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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+       A Mystery
+
+Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+Release Date: July 12, 2013 [EBook #43198]
+Last Updated: August 16, 2015
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by
+Google Books. (New York Public Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+     1. Page scan provided by:
+        Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=FwQoAAAAMAAJ
+        (New York Public Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             SAMUEL BOYD
+
+                         OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE
+
+                             _A MYSTERY_
+
+
+
+
+                           By B. L. FARJEON
+                     Author of "The Iron-Master"
+
+
+
+
+
+                              _NEW YORK_
+                      NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+                               _LONDON_
+                          HUTCHINSON AND CO.
+                                 1899
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
+_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, London and Aylesbury, England_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              CONTENTS.
+
+                           *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+     CHAP.
+
+         I. ABEL DEATH AT WORK.
+
+        II. SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.
+
+       III. A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.
+
+        IV. SILENCE REIGNS.
+
+         V. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.
+
+        VI. IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.
+
+       VII. IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.
+
+      VIII. AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A
+            PRINCE.
+
+        IX. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.
+
+         X. UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.
+
+        XI. DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.
+
+       XII. DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE SERVICE OF
+            SAMUEL BOYD.
+
+      XIII. A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.
+
+       XIV. THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND PICKED UP IN
+            CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+        XV. DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.
+
+       XVI. LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.
+
+      XVII. THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.
+
+     XVIII. DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.
+
+       XIX. DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+            OPERATIONS.
+
+        XX. DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+       XXI. THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.
+
+      XXII. DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE WORD.
+
+     XXIII. FLORENCE AND REGINALD.
+
+      XXIV. DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.
+
+       XXV. LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.
+
+      XXVI. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.
+
+     XXVII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.
+
+    XXVIII. THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.
+
+      XXIX. A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.
+
+       XXX. REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.
+
+      XXXI. SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+     XXXII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XXXIII. SCENES IN COURT.
+
+     XXXIV. GATHERING CLOUDS.
+
+      XXXV. LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.
+
+     XXXVI. THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XXXVII. DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.
+
+   XXXVIII. DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+            IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.
+
+     XXXIX. GRACE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+        XL. THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.
+
+       XLI. HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.
+
+      XLII. A FAMILY COUNCIL.
+
+     XLIII. AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.
+
+      XLIV. IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE.
+
+       XLV. CROSS PURPOSES.
+
+      XLVI. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION OF THE
+            INQUEST.
+
+     XLVII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XLVIII. THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.
+
+      XLIX. LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.
+
+         L. EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.
+
+        LI. A DEAD LOCK.
+
+       LII. ARRESTED FOR MURDER.
+
+      LIII. GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.
+
+       LIV. EXTRACTS FROM "THE BUSY BEE" OF FRIDAY, THE 15TH OF MARCH,
+            1896.
+
+        LV. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.
+
+       LVI. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT, DETECTIVE
+            OFFICER.
+
+      LVII. DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.
+
+     LVIII. THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.
+
+       LIX. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
+
+        LX. FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.
+
+       LXI. FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF THURSDAY, MARCH 21ST.
+
+      LXII. AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.
+
+     LXIII. CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.
+
+      LXIV. A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.
+
+       LXV. FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."
+
+      LXVI. JOY.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             SAMUEL BOYD
+                         OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+                              *  *  *  *
+                             _A MYSTERY_.
+                              *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I.
+
+                         ABEL DEATH AT WORK.
+
+
+At six o'clock in the evening of the first day of March, in the year
+of Grace, 1898, Abel Death, a man of middle age, with a face
+appropriate to his name--which should never be given to any living
+human being--was sitting at his desk, employed in the task of writing
+the last of a number of letters, in accordance with the instructions
+of his employer, Mr. Samuel Boyd, of No. 6, Catchpole Square, in the
+North district of London. The letters all referred to Money: to Money
+due for principal and interest, and to warnings and threats of what
+would be done in case prompt payment was not made at such and such an
+hour on such and such a day. Uncompromising and relentless to the
+point of cruelty, debtors were told in plain terms that ruin was their
+portion if Mr. Boyd's demands were not complied with.
+
+Abel Death appeared to be just the kind of man for the task he was
+executing, being hollow cheeked and sunken eyed; his hands were long
+and lean, his movements eager and restless. Clad in shabby and badly
+fitting clothes, he did not belie the position he occupied, that of an
+ill paid drudge working long hours for a hard taskmaster.
+
+The room in which he sat, and in which his daily duties were
+performed, could scarcely be called an office. From the number of
+singular articles it contained it might have been a curiosity shop, or
+the store-room of a dealer in the miscellaneous goods of the earth to
+whose net everything that presented itself was more or less marketable
+fish. Here was a massive safe fast bedded in the wall and securely
+locked; here a grand piano, locked; here weapons and armour of all
+nations, and pictures in which lay dumb stories of fruitless genius
+and disappointed ambition; here pieces of valuable china and
+_bric-à-brac_; here some dozens of wine of a rare vintage; here
+hangings of old tapestry; here (the oddest feature in the
+heterogeneous collection) a waxwork figure, holding in its
+outstretched hand a cane stick of the reign of Charles the Second;
+and, scattered in all directions, but still with some kind of method
+in the order of their disposal, a great variety of other oddments: all
+taken for debt, and all representing, in different degrees, despairing
+hopes and reckless extravagance and prodigality which had come to a
+bad end.
+
+The apartment was large and lofty, with panelled walls and doors of
+oak. The ceiling was covered with paintings of flying angels, and
+nymphs, and festive landscape-scenes after the style of Watteau,
+barely discernible through the accumulated dust of years; the mantel
+and fireplace were richly carved in many a quaint and curious device,
+the beauty of which was defaced by smoke and ill usage and neglect.
+The house itself was very old, and these evidences of decay forcibly
+illustrated how low it had fallen from its once high estate. For
+assuredly in years long since passed by it had been inhabited by
+persons of wealth and fashion and good taste. Time was, indeed, when
+these walls resounded to gay music and revelry, when satin-slippered
+feet glided over the polished floor, and bright eyes smiled, and bold
+lips murmured into beauty's ears. Here shone the sunny aspects of
+life; here gladness reigned; here all the luxurious ways of fortune's
+favourites were in their outward show at their best and bravest.
+Nothing of this was apparent now. The men and women who had trod these
+flowery paths were dust and ashes, and the dwelling was the abode of
+one who held fashion and good taste in contemptuous disregard, and
+whose principal aim in life was the driving of hard bargains and the
+making of money.
+
+Having finished the last letter Abel Death descended from his stool to
+stretch and refresh himself. From the pocket of a threadbare coat
+which hung upon a nail he took a paper containing a couple of
+sandwiches, and cast a longing look at the bottles of wine, a thirsty
+movement of his lips betokening the nature of his thoughts. But he did
+not venture to lay his hand upon them, knowing full well that strict
+account was kept, and that if he appropriated but a single bottle the
+offence would be detected the moment his employer entered; so he took
+his fate in his hands by extracting from his coat a twisted paper of
+tea and another twisted paper of brown sugar which he emptied into a
+teapot. A very small fire was burning, and he stood and watched the
+boiling of a tiny kettle of water. As he poured the water into the
+teapot he heard a knock at the street door, which he did not take the
+trouble to answer.
+
+"A trap," he muttered, pouring the tea into a chipped cup. "No, no,
+Mr. Boyd. You don't get me to open the door for you."
+
+He suspected a ruse. He had received instructions not to answer a
+knock, nor to admit any person into the house during Mr. Boyd's
+absence, and the conditions of his engagement were strict and onerous,
+the most trifling transgression of the rules laid down being visited
+with a fine. When, therefore, the knock was repeated a second time he
+shook his head with a smile, and proceeded with his scanty meal.
+
+It did not take him long to get to the end of it; and presently, when
+he heard the opening and the shutting of the street door, followed by
+steps on the stairs, he mounted to his stool, and bent his head over
+the books.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Death?"
+
+He almost fell off his stool, for it was not the voice he expected to
+hear.
+
+A young man of gentlemanly appearance confronted him with an
+ingenuous, open countenance; with an honest eye and a graceful manner.
+In the teeth of these advantages there was an expression of anxiety on
+his face which denoted that his errand was one upon which grave issues
+depended.
+
+"You, Mr. Reginald!" exclaimed Abel Death, staring open mouthed at the
+visitor.
+
+"As you see, Mr. Death," replied Mr. Reginald. "You are still in the
+old place."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Reginald, yes, still in the old place."
+
+Mr. Reginald's eyes travelled round the room. "Where's my father?" he
+asked.
+
+Abel Death answered in Irish fashion.
+
+"How did you get in?"
+
+Mr. Reginald held up a key.
+
+"You don't mean to say----" stammered Abel Death.
+
+"That I stole it?" said Mr. Reginald. "No. It is the old key which I
+took away with me when I left this house----"
+
+"For ever," interposed Abel Death.
+
+"Not exactly, or I should not be here now."
+
+"That is what he told me."
+
+"That is what he told _me_."
+
+"His word is law in this house, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"We will not discuss the subject. I ask you again, where is my
+father?"
+
+"Out."
+
+"When will he be back?"
+
+"I don't know--I can't tell you. He has his ways. He likes to leave
+people in uncertainty."
+
+"Is he well?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Reginald. As well as ever. There is no change in him--no
+change!" He said this in the tone of a man who would not have grieved
+at a change for the worse in his employer's health.
+
+Mr. Reginald drew a silver watch from his pocket. "It is six o'clock.
+My time is my own. I will wait."
+
+"I earnestly beg you not to, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It would be difficult for me to get another situation."
+
+"I understand. I have no wish to injure you. I will call later."
+
+"I should not advise you. Earnestly, I should not advise you."
+
+"I don't ask your advice. I must see him, I tell you. I intend to see
+him."
+
+"Then I give it up. I am sorry you have come down in the world, Mr.
+Reginald."
+
+The young man looked at the clerk with a curious contraction of his
+brows. "How do you arrive at that conclusion?"
+
+Abel Death tapped his waistcoat pocket. "It used to be a gold one."
+
+"Now I call that clever of you," said Mr. Reginald, half merrily, half
+lugubriously, "but _your_ lines have not been cast in pleasant places;
+you should know something of the process."
+
+"I do," said Abel Death, in a dismal tone.
+
+"If the watch I now wear is an indication of my having come down in
+the world, why, then, I _have_ had a tumble. Am I interrupting your
+work?"
+
+"I have the books to make up."
+
+"I'll leave you to them. Would it be unfair to ask you to tell my
+father that I will call again at ten o'clock? He is sure to be
+disengaged at that hour."
+
+"Very unfair, Mr. Reginald. I wouldn't venture to tell him that I'd
+seen you."
+
+"In that case I'll not trouble you."
+
+"And if you do call again, Mr. Reginald, I beg you, as a particular
+favour, not to mention your present visit."
+
+"You have my promise." He turned to go, but paused to glance at the
+strange collection of goods in the room. "My father gets plenty of odd
+things about him. I see stories of wreckage in them."
+
+"Not our wreckage, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"No," said Mr. Reginald under his breath as he left the room, "other
+people's."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER II.
+
+               SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.
+
+
+Abel Death experienced a feeling of relief when he heard the street
+door slammed in token that Mr. Reginald was gone. Whatever his
+thoughts may have been with reference to that young gentleman he did
+not give audible utterance to them, but an occasional shake of his
+head as he worked at the books, and an occasional pause during which
+he rested his chin upon the palm of his hand in reflection, were an
+evidence that though Mr. Reginald was out of sight he was not out of
+mind. At first he worked rapidly to make up for lost time, but at the
+end of an hour or so his pen travelled more slowly over the paper, his
+task being nearly completed. He had lighted two candles stuck in
+common tin candlesticks, and had pulled down the blind, for night was
+coming on. The feeble glimmer of these candles, which were long and
+thin, threw light only upon the desk at which he was working; the
+distant spaces in the room were in deep shadow, and an occasional
+shifting of a candle seemingly imbued many of the objects by which he
+was surrounded with a weird and fitful life. This was especially the
+case with the wax figure, which was that of a Chinaman who might have
+come straight from the Chamber of Horrors, so ghastly was its face in
+this dim light. Being not quite firm on its legs any hurried movement
+in its direction caused it to quiver as though it were set on wires;
+and once, when Abel Death threw a heavy ledger from his desk on to the
+table, the oscillation of the figure was sufficiently fantastic to
+have engendered the fancy that it was preparing to leap upon the
+living man and do him violence. Neither Mr. Samuel Boyd nor Abel Death
+could have informed a curious inquirer who the figure was intended to
+represent. It came from the house of a modeller in wax, to whom Mr.
+Boyd had lent a small sum of money, and who, when he was pressed for
+payment, himself brought it to Catchpole Square as the only asset he
+could offer in discharge of the debt. "It is all I possess," said the
+man mournfully, who had hoped to soften the heart of his creditor by
+his tale of distress. "Then I'll take it," said Mr. Samuel Boyd.
+"You'd take my blood, I believe," cried the man savagely. "I would,"
+retorted Mr. Boyd, "if there was a market for it." "Keep it, then,"
+said the man, flinging himself from the room. "It's brought me nothing
+but bad luck all the time I have been at work on it. May it bring the
+same to you!" Mr. Boyd laughed; he did not believe in omens, nor in
+sentiment, nor in mercy to any person in his debt. He believed only in
+Money.
+
+The day's work over, Abel Death sat awhile so deep in thought and so
+still and quiet that he might have been taken for one of the inanimate
+objects in this strangely furnished apartment. He had removed the
+candles from the desk to the table, where they flickered in the
+draught of a broken window, into which some rags had been thrust to
+keep out the wind. Within the radius of the flickering light the
+shadows on the walls and ceiling grew more weird and grotesque, each
+gust of air creating insubstantial forms and shapes as monstrous as
+the fancies of a madman's brain. Catchpole Square was a blind
+thoroughfare--being, as has been elsewhere described, like a bottle
+with a very narrow neck to it--and was therefore undisturbed by the
+tumult of the city's streets; and the prevailing silence, in which
+there was something deathly, was broken only by the sobbing and
+moaning of the rising wind which, having got into the Square, was
+making despairing efforts to get out. These sounds were in unison with
+the spectral life within the house, which seemed to find
+interpretation in the mystic voices of the air. It might have been so
+in very truth, for what know we of the forces of the invisible world
+through which we move and play our parts in the march from the cradle
+to the grave? Unfathomable mystery encompasses and mocks us, and no
+man can foretell at what moment he may be struck down and all his
+castles overturned, and all his plans for good or evil destroyed.
+
+Abel Death started to his feet. A stealthy step was on the stairs. The
+man coming up paused three or four times either to get his breath or
+for some other purpose; and presently he entered the room.
+
+Mr. Samuel Boyd was a tall man, and bore a close resemblance to his
+son in certain expressions of countenance and in certain little
+mannerisms of gesture which in the younger man were indications of an
+open-hearted nature, and in the elder of a nature dominated by craft
+and cunning.
+
+"You're back in time, sir," said Abel Death, in a cringing tone.
+
+Mr. Boyd made no immediate reply, being employed in looking
+distrustfully around to convince himself that nothing had been removed
+or disturbed. Even when he was assured of this the look of distrust
+did not die out of his eyes.
+
+"Are the letters all written?" he inquired, seating himself at the
+table.
+
+"They are, sir."
+
+"Have you posted up the books?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Everything is done."
+
+"Has any one called?"
+
+"No one, sir," promptly replied Abel Death.
+
+"Any knocks at the street door?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You lie! There was a letter in the box."
+
+Abel Death's lips shaped themselves into the word, "Beast!"
+
+"What did you say?" demanded Mr. Boyd, upon whom no movement on the
+part of his servant, however slight, was lost.
+
+"I was going to say that the postman was no business of mine."
+
+"You are getting too clever, Abel Death--too clever, too clever! The
+men I employ must do their work without spying, without blabbing,
+without lying."
+
+"You have never found me unfaithful."
+
+"I have only your word for it. When did you know me take a man's
+word?"
+
+"Never, sir."
+
+"And you never will. So--you did not go down to the postman when he
+knocked?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And you have not been out of the house during my absence?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Nor out of this room?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Ah! Is that so--is that so? You have your office coat on, and your
+office slippers. Had you not better change them?"
+
+"I was going to do so, sir," said Abel Death. Mr. Boyd's keen eyes
+were upon him while he made the change. "May I hope, sir, that you
+will grant the request you kindly promised to consider? It may be a
+matter of life or death, it may indeed. It means so much to me--so
+much! I humbly beg you, sir, to grant it."
+
+"Let me see. You asked me for a loan."
+
+"A small loan, sir, of ten pounds. I have trouble and sickness at
+home, I am sorry to say."
+
+"It is inconceivable," said Mr. Boyd coldly, "that a man in regular
+employment should need a loan unless it is for the gratification of
+some unwarrantable extravagance. Your wages are paid regularly, I
+believe."
+
+"Yes, sir. I don't complain, but it is not an easy task to keep a wife
+and family on twenty-two shillings a week. I don't know how it is,"
+said Abel Death, rubbing his forehead as though he were endeavouring
+to rub some problem out of it, or some better understanding of a
+social difficulty into it, "but when Saturday comes round we have
+never a sixpence left."
+
+"Very likely. It is the old story of improvidence. Thrift, Abel,
+thrift. That is the lesson the poor have to learn, and never will
+learn."
+
+"Ten pounds, sir, only ten pounds," implored Abel Death.
+
+"Only ten pounds!" exclaimed Mr. Boyd. "Listen to him. He calls ten
+pounds a small sum. Why, it is to millions of men a fortune!"
+
+"It is truly that to me, sir."
+
+"And if I lend it to you," said Mr. Boyd, with a sneering smile, "you
+will call down heaven's blessing upon me, you will remember me in your
+prayers?"
+
+"Yes, sir, yes," replied Abel Death confusedly.
+
+"There is the question of security, Abel."
+
+"I am a poor man, sir, but I will do anything you wish. I will give
+you a bill--I will sign any paper you write out--I will pay you any
+interest you like to charge. You can deduct five shillings from my
+wages every week till the debt is cancelled. I shall be eternally
+grateful to you, sir." His agitation was so great that he could not
+proceed.
+
+"Gratitude is no security," said Mr. Boyd, still with the sneering
+smile on his lips. "Prayers and heaven's blessing are no security. No
+business man would lend a shilling on them. They are not Property. You
+remarked a moment ago that I had never found you unfaithful. I will
+put it to the test. Let me see the slippers you have taken off."
+
+"My slippers, sir!" stammered Abel Death.
+
+"Your slippers. I wish to see them." Puzzled by the singular request,
+and with inward misgivings, Abel Death lifted the slippers from the
+floor. "Lay them on the table before me, soles upward."
+
+Ruefully wondering what connection there could possibly be between his
+frayed and worn slippers and the question of unfaithfulness which Mr.
+Boyd had raised, he obeyed the order. His wonder increased when Mr.
+Boyd proceeded to examine the soles through a magnifying glass.
+
+"That will do," said Mr. Boyd, leaning back in his chair. "You can
+pack them up with your office coat, and take them home with you."
+
+"But I shall want them to-morrow, sir."
+
+"Not in my office, Abel Death. I discharge you."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"I discharge you. Here are your wages for a half week. You can claim
+no more. The conditions of your engagement with me were that in the
+event of the slightest violation of my orders you were to be
+immediately discharged without further notice."
+
+"In what way have I violated your orders, sir?" cried Abel Death,
+despairingly. "Good heavens! This will be the ruin of me!"
+
+"You have brought it on yourself. It is an ungrateful world, Abel, an
+ungrateful world. Robbery on all sides of us, treachery whichever way
+we turn. Do not send to me for a character; it will not assist you to
+obtain another situation." Abel Death gazed at the hard taskmaster in
+speechless consternation. "I have suspected you for some time past,
+Abel----I beg your pardon, you were about to speak."
+
+"I was not."
+
+"You were. Come, come--be honest, Abel, be honest. It is the best
+policy. I have found it so."
+
+"It was in my mind to say, sir," said Abel Death, in a shaking voice,
+"that you suspect everybody."
+
+"It is the only way to protect oneself from being robbed. Keep this
+axiom before you; it is as good as capital, and will return you good
+interest. Suspecting you as I have done I laid a trap for you this
+afternoon--a simple, artless trap. Observe this thin piece of brown
+paper, observe this little piece of wax which I place upon it. Any
+person treading on it will carry away with him on the sole of his shoe
+both the paper and the wax. Do you follow me?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Abel Death, staring at the paper and moving his
+tongue over his dry lips.
+
+"Before leaving the house this afternoon," continued Mr. Boyd, "I
+deposited on the stairs eight very small pieces of this paper, each
+with a very small piece of wax on the top of it, and placed them on
+those parts of the stairs which a person coming up or going down would
+be most likely to tread. Is this quite clear to you?"
+
+"Quite clear, sir."
+
+"It is a singular thing, Abel, that upon the soles of your slippers I
+do not see one of those pieces of paper or any trace of wax."
+
+"It proves, sir," interposed Abel Death eagerly, "that I spoke the
+truth when I declared that I had not left the room during your
+absence, and that I did not go down the stairs."
+
+"But it does not prove, you dog, that no person came up the stairs
+during my absence!" Abel Death fell back, confounded. "Upon my return
+a few minutes ago I examined the stairs, and found only two of the
+eight pieces of paper I deposited there so carefully--so very
+carefully! Six pieces of the eight I placed there had affixed
+themselves to the soles of the shoes or boots worn by the person who
+entered this room while I was away. I asked you if any one had called.
+You answered no. It was a lie, a deliberate lie, a lie not to be
+explained away."
+
+"If you will listen to me, sir," said Abel Death, reduced to a state
+of abject fear, "I think it _can_ be explained away."
+
+"I am listening, Abel Death."
+
+"I made a mistake, sir--I confess it."
+
+"Oh, a mistake, and by such a clever man as you are!"
+
+"I am not clever, sir--far from it. Every man is liable to error. A
+person _has_ been in this room, but I did not open the door to him. He
+opened it himself."
+
+"What!" cried Mr. Boyd, starting from his chair in mingled anger and
+alarm.
+
+"Yes, sir, he opened it himself. How could I help that, sir--I ask
+you, how could I help that?"
+
+A few moments elapsed before Mr. Boyd spoke; and during the silence he
+took a revolver from a drawer, which he unlocked for the purpose. Then
+he said slowly, "Who was the man?"
+
+"Your son, sir, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"My son! He was forbidden the house!"
+
+"I can't help that, sir. He knocked three times at the street door,
+and bearing your instructions in mind I did not answer the knocks.
+When he came into the room I asked him how he had got in, and he
+produced the key he was in the habit of using when he lived here. He
+wanted to see you, and I told him you were not in. He said he would
+wait, and I begged him not to, because I knew you would be angry if
+you saw him here. Then he said he would call to see you later, and I
+begged him not to mention that he had been here; he gave me the
+promise and left the house. That is the whole truth of the matter,
+sir."
+
+"Why were you so anxious that this visit should be kept a secret from
+me?"
+
+"I feared you might suspect that we were in--in----" He could not hit
+upon the right word.
+
+"In collusion," said Mr. Boyd, supplying it in accordance with his
+humour to place the worst construction upon the interview. "In league
+to rob me. A fair and reasonable suspicion which the explanation I
+have dragged out of you does not remove. Have you anything more to
+say?"
+
+"Nothing more," replied Abel Death, in a hopeless tone.
+
+"Take up your money. You can go."
+
+"But you will withdraw the discharge, sir--I entreat you to withdraw
+it. Think what it means to me--what it means to my family! Starvation,
+sir, starvation!" He wrung his hands in despair.
+
+"You have lied deliberately to me. Go--go and starve!--and never set
+foot inside this house again."
+
+Convinced now that any farther appeal would be unavailing, the look of
+misery in Abel Death's face changed to one of fury. He made a step
+towards the man who had doomed him to ruin, and who, thus threatened,
+held the revolver straight before him, with his finger on the trigger.
+Muttering, "God help me!" Abel Death took up the few shillings which
+Mr. Boyd had placed upon the table, and backed out of the room,
+followed by his employer, still armed with the revolver, and holding a
+candle above his head. Thus they went down to the street door, which
+Abel Death slowly opened. But before he left the house he turned and
+said,
+
+"Do you believe in God?"
+
+"No," snarled Mr. Boyd, "I believe in nothing!"
+
+"Men have been struck dead for less," said Abel Death, pointing a
+shaking finger at him. "Remember that, Samuel Boyd!" And went his way
+with misery in his heart.
+
+Mr. Boyd, undisturbed and with a smile of self-approval on his lips,
+closed the door and put up the chain. Then, with deliberate steps, and
+with no misgivings, he returned to his room.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III.
+
+             A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.
+
+
+A close and crafty face, masking a soul which knew no mercy and gave
+none. The grave holds its secrets, and holds them no less securely
+than Mr. Samuel Boyd, in his outward presentment to his fellow man,
+believed he held his. Whether the pursuit of pleasure for the
+delights--be they fair or foul--that pleasure brings, or the pursuit
+of wealth for the power it confers, was the dominant principle of this
+man's life, no human being could truthfully say, for no human being
+was admitted into his confidence. But one thing was certain. By
+whatever motive he may have been guided he held his way with absolute
+dependence on his own resources to triumph easily over every obstacle
+that might present itself. As to the manner in which these triumphs
+were obtained it mattered little to him whether he merely brushed
+aside the persons who opposed him, or trampled them into the dust.
+Their mortification, their sufferings, their destruction, concerned
+him not and did not trouble him. There are men who, in the
+contemplated execution of a crime, or in the pursuance of a base
+desire, listen to the voice of conscience before it is too late. Not
+so Mr. Samuel Boyd. He was harassed by no troubled dreams, by no weak
+fears of consequences, by no whisperings of an inconvenient
+conscience, by no spiritual warnings of Divine punishment for sinful
+deeds. For him, the entire range of the moral affections and of moral
+sentiments and conditions was expressed in one word: Self. It was for
+Self he lived and for Self alone.
+
+Such being the man it was not to be supposed that he was in any way
+affected by the sentence he had pronounced upon Abel Death, or that he
+gave a moment's thought to the poor clerk who was trudging home almost
+broken-hearted at the loss even of the miserable wage he received for
+duties faithfully performed.
+
+The letter he had taken from the letter box was from a lady who stated
+that she would call upon him at eight o'clock this evening. He had not
+long to wait, for by his watch he saw that it wanted but two minutes
+to eight; and punctually to the hour there came a rat-tat-tat at the
+street door.
+
+With no indication of haste he went down, and laughed slyly to himself
+when the knocking was repeated, more impatiently and peremptorily the
+second time than the first. He drew the door ajar leisurely, still
+keeping it on the chain.
+
+"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" he inquired.
+
+"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" answered a lady's voice. "Upon my word! To
+keep a lady waiting in such a dreadful place as this, the entrance to
+which is so narrow that a carriage can't get into it! Open the door at
+once, man, and let me in!"
+
+"As quickly as I can, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, fumbling at the chain.
+"It is Lady Wharton, is it not?"
+
+"Who else should it be, pray?" replied the lady. "And if Lady Wharton
+had known what kind of thoroughfare this was she would have thought
+twice before she'd have ventured into it." There was nothing querulous
+in the voice; it was hearty and bluff, with a cheerful ring in it very
+pleasant to the ear.
+
+"Might a man so humble as Samuel Boyd inquire whether it is too late
+now for Lady Wharton to think better of it?" asked Mr. Boyd,
+continuing to fumble at the chain.
+
+"Man alive! Of course it is. Oh, you've got it opened at last. Well,
+that's a blessing. If it takes as long to get out of the house as to
+get in I sha'n't be home till midnight. Remain where you are, John,
+and wait for me. If I don't make my appearance before ten o'clock
+shout for help at the top of your voice." These last words were
+addressed to a footman, who, holding a large green umbrella over her
+ladyship's head, had accompanied her from her carriage to the door of
+Mr. Boyd's dwelling. "John is my confidential man," she was now
+addressing Mr. Boyd. "I don't put my trust in women. They're a pack of
+artful, designing creatures. What men see in us to marry us passes my
+comprehension. If I were a man I'd want a sackfull of diamonds before
+I'd marry the handsomest among them."
+
+"If your ladyship will kindly follow me," said Mr. Boyd, ascending the
+stairs.
+
+"Bless my soul!" she exclaimed. "The passage is as dark as a railway
+tunnel, and that parody of a candle in your hand makes matters worse.
+The stairs are safe, I hope? There are no trapdoors in them through
+which a defenceless woman might suddenly disappear?" These words were
+accompanied with a ringing laugh which awoke the echoes in the almost
+deserted house.
+
+"They are quite safe, my lady, quite safe. Permit me to welcome you to
+my poor abode."
+
+They were now in the room, around which Lady Wharton stared in
+amazement. She was a large-framed woman, well proportioned and with a
+perfect figure. There was a hearty good nature in her face which
+matched well with her brisk voice. Her eyes were bright, her movements
+quick and decided. Eminently a woman of management, of kindly heart,
+and one whose healthy physique and amiable disposition guided her to
+take a cheerful view of difficulties.
+
+"Heaven and earth, Mr. Boyd!" she exclaimed. "This is the oddest abode
+a man of means could select." Here she caught sight of the wax figure
+of the Chinaman, which caused her to retreat a step or two and to give
+utterance to a little scream.
+
+"Don't be frightened, my lady, he's only wax. I took him for a debt;
+he was better than nothing, if only for melting down. All these things
+have been taken for debt. That is the way we are robbed; and the law
+gives us no redress, no redress."
+
+"Poor Mr. Boyd!" said Lady Wharton, with twinkling eyes "How very sad!
+Shall I lend you a five pound note?"
+
+"I should be very grateful, my lady."
+
+She burst into a merry laugh. "Singular creature! Shall we proceed to
+business?"
+
+"Yes, my lady. Time is money. You will be comfortable in this chair."
+
+A strange contrast did they present as they sat on opposite sides of
+the table, the crafty, cringing face of the man looking into the
+cheery, good-humoured face of the lady.
+
+"Now, Mr. Boyd, I am going to be quite frank with you." She placed her
+satchel on the table, and took some papers from it. "My husband owes
+you a large sum of money. Look over these figures and tell me if they
+are correct."
+
+"Quite correct, my lady, but calculated only up to the last day of
+February, which was yesterday. One day's interest has to be added if
+you are prepared to pay to-night. Strictly speaking, it is two days'
+interest, it being now past the hour of business."
+
+"Of course you know I am not prepared to pay to-night, and of course
+you know that I have come in the place of my husband because in
+matters of business he is a mere child."
+
+"I have not found him so, my lady," said Samuel Boyd. "In my
+experience of his lordship I have seen nothing in him to cause me to
+think he is weak-minded. He came to me to borrow money, and I lent it
+to him on bills signed in his name. It was a risk, and I took it."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, cheerfully. "We have not met
+to contradict each other, or to raise up difficulties, but to come to
+such an arrangement as may be agreeable to you."
+
+"If your ladyship pleases," said Mr. Boyd.
+
+"At the same time," she continued, "I wish to state how far my
+understanding went, when, Lord Wharton being ill in bed, I opened up a
+correspondence with you. I am very fond of my husband, Mr. Boyd."
+
+"His lordship is to be envied."
+
+"Indeed I think he is," said Lady Wharton, with a little laugh, "and I
+am to be envied, too, for having a husband so amiably inclined. But he
+is altogether too easy and careless in money matters; when he wishes
+for a thing, he will promise anything, consent to anything, sign
+anything, so long as he gets it. He is really like a child in these
+matters, and having made up my mind that he was not to be worried, I
+opened a letter which you wrote to him, and I replied to it. Now, Mr.
+Boyd, it was from that letter that I learned, for the first time, that
+Lord Wharton was in your debt."
+
+"Indeed, my lady."
+
+"Yes, indeed. I was not astonished. Nothing that Lord Wharton does
+astonishes me. He can get through a great deal of money. So can I. He
+is extravagant. So am I. What are you to do, Mr. Boyd, when you have
+been brought up to it?"
+
+"Nothing but spend," said Samuel Boyd.
+
+"You are a man of sense. We can do nothing but spend--and between you
+and me, Mr. Boyd"--here she laughed long and heartily--"we _do_ spend.
+Why not, when we can afford it?"
+
+"Why not, indeed?" murmured Mr. Boyd, in ready acquiescence.
+
+"But rich as people may be they are sometimes in need of ready money,
+and that, I suppose, is where gentlemen of your profession come in.
+Having now, in a manner of speaking, cleared the ground, we can go on
+easily. There are bills coming due."
+
+"There are, my lady."
+
+"I asked you in a letter what they amounted to; you answered, twelve
+thousand pounds. Now, Mr. Boyd, I should not like you to think that I
+want to take advantage of you."
+
+"Thank you, my lady. I have been taken in so often that I am almost
+beginning to despair of human nature."
+
+"Don't, Mr. Boyd, don't. There is a great deal of good in human
+nature, and we can get a lot of fun out of life if we set about it the
+right way. I have consulted another person in this business, and he
+has advised me. My brother, Lord Fairfax. You have heard of him,
+perhaps. Yes? I thought you must; he is almost a celebrity, with his
+indolent and easy ways. It is in our blood; we object to be troubled.
+All we ask is that the world should go round as usual, and that our
+little wishes should be gratified. Lord Fairfax suggested that I
+should put the business into the hands of a lawyer." Mr. Boyd, with a
+scarcely perceptible motion, lifted his eyebrows. "I said, no. We have
+a rooted objection to lawyers in our family; they make your head ache.
+'Quite right,' said Lord Fairfax. 'Have nothing to do with lawyers.'
+He never disputes, Mr. Boyd. The moment you say a thing he agrees to
+it. Then he said, 'Find out how much it amounts to.' I wrote to you,
+and you told me. You also sent me some bills, for the purpose of doing
+away with the old obligations, and putting the whole of the business
+on a new footing. These bills were to be accepted by Lord Wharton, and
+you strongly urged me to get another responsible name at the back of
+them. Lord Wharton signed the bills when I put them before him. The
+dear man hardly as much as looked at them. Then I went to Lord
+Fairfax, and _he_ put his name on the back. _He_ hardly as much as
+looked at them. And to cut a long matter short, Mr. Boyd, I have
+brought them with me."
+
+She took them from her satchel, and handed them to Mr. Boyd, who
+examined them carefully, and jotted down figures on a piece of paper.
+Satisfactory as the transaction was to him no sign of satisfaction
+escaped him.
+
+"Are they in order, Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Yes, they appear to be in order. I am making a great sacrifice for
+you, my lady."
+
+"We are under a great obligation to you. And now, Mr. Boyd, for a
+little piece of business on my own account. I want a thousand pounds
+for my private purse."
+
+"A thousand pounds, my lady, a thousand pounds!" murmured Mr. Boyd.
+
+"I will _not_ worry Lord Wharton with my dressmaker's bill, and she
+has begged me to let her have something on account. There are also one
+or two other little bills I wish to pay. Don't be alarmed; I am going
+to give you security. I have been looking through my jewellery, and I
+found some things that have gone out of fashion. I will not sell them,
+but I am willing to deposit them with you. Here they are. Oblige me by
+looking over them. Some of the cases would not go into my satchel, so
+I took them all out, and wrapped them in paper. I hope you won't
+mind."
+
+"Not at all, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, opening the papers, which
+contained jewels of various kinds, bracelets, necklaces, ear-rings,
+brooches, and other gewgaws. Many of the precious stones were in old
+settings, and he saw at a glance that they were worth considerably
+more than the thousand pounds which this reckless lady of fashion
+wished to raise upon them. Among them were two ornaments of
+conspicuous beauty--a pearl necklace, and a device for the hair in the
+shape of a peacock's tail.
+
+"I am reposing a great confidence in you," said Lady Wharton. "The
+pearl necklace and the peacock's tail were presents from my
+father--they cost a great price, I believe--and I would not part with
+them for any consideration. In a few months I shall--shall--what is
+the word for it? Oh, yes, redeem them."
+
+"You don't want the thousand pounds immediately, my lady?" said Mr.
+Boyd.
+
+"My good man, I want it now, this minute."
+
+"Impossible, my lady. I could not get it together in less than five or
+six days. If that will suit you----"
+
+Lady Wharton beat an impatient tattoo on the table with the tips of
+her fingers. "Are you sure you could not get it earlier?"
+
+"Quite sure, my lady."
+
+"It _must_ suit me, then, but it is really very provoking. Lord
+Wharton is ordered into the country, and we are going to-morrow."
+
+"I can send you a cheque through the post."
+
+"I should prefer to receive it personally from you, and in bank notes.
+You can bring it to me in the country, I suppose?"
+
+"There will be no difficulty, my lady. To what part of the country?"
+
+"We are going to our place in Bournemouth, The Gables. We give a ball
+there every year on the 7th of March. Of course I may rely upon having
+the money before that date."
+
+"Pardon me a moment, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, pretending to make
+certain calculations on paper, and presently adding, "I can't
+positively promise, but you shall be sure to have it _on_ that date."
+
+"Oh, very well, very well," said Lady Wharton, "I see that I am
+expected to agree to everything. And now, Mr. Boyd, our business is
+over, I think. Bless my soul, how dismally the wind sounds in this
+house! If I don't get out of it quickly John will think I've been
+spirited away. Don't trouble to come down; one of your servants can
+see me to the door."
+
+"I keep no servants, my lady," he replied. "A charwoman comes when I
+send for her. That is my life."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that you live here quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone, my lady, quite alone, and safer and more secure than if
+my house was full of servants."
+
+"Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, tapping him lightly on the arm, "you
+should marry."
+
+"What did your ladyship say yourself about women when you entered the
+house," he answered slyly.
+
+She laughed heartily at this retort, and following him down the stairs
+as he led the way with a light, bade him good night at the street
+door.
+
+"John," she said to her confidential man as he conducted her to her
+carriage, "the house is like a grave."
+
+"I was thinking that myself, my lady," said John.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IV.
+
+                           SILENCE REIGNS.
+
+
+Was it indeed a grave, and were the phantom shapes thrown upon the
+walls and ceiling by the flickering light the phantoms of the dead
+that were buried there? How easy to imagine this--how easy to imagine
+that, animated by a spirit of revenge for past wrongs and injuries,
+they moved and shifted, and glided hither and thither, and took
+fantastic and monstrous form, for the purpose of striking terror into
+the heart of the enemy who had filled their lives with suffering and
+brought them to an untimely end!
+
+Silence reigned.
+
+Were those shapes and forms the only phantoms in the lonely house? Or,
+in the spaces that were unlighted--say in the passages and on the
+stairs leading to the room in which its owner transacted his business,
+and into another room in which he slept--were other phantoms moving,
+as dumb as they, as silent as they, with thoughts as murderous and
+with power more sure? This phantom, now, unseen by reason of the
+darkness, pausing with finger at its lips, all its senses merged in
+the sense of hearing as it listened for a sound to warn it that the
+time was not yet ripe? Had this phantom escaped from the lighted room
+in fear lest, were it visible to mortal eyes, its dread purpose would
+be frustrated, and that a frenzied cry ringing out upon the air, might
+reach some chance and aimless wanderer, and thus mar the murderous
+design lurking in its breast? Even of this the risk was small, for
+rarely indeed did any such wanderer find himself in Catchpole Square,
+or any man, who, being there without design, did not gladly and
+quickly grope his way out of it. The very guardians of the night
+avoided it, and contented themselves with the slightest and swiftest
+scrutiny, as of a place which bore an evil reputation and had best be
+left alone. It happened at odd times that some houseless and homeless
+vagrant, slinking in, curled himself up in a dark corner and dozed
+till daylight came, creeping away then with no feeling of gratitude
+for the shelter it had afforded him. Once a hapless child, sleeping
+there during a fierce snowstorm, had been found dead in the morning,
+covered with a white shroud. But that was long ago.
+
+But this one phantom was in the house--now pausing, now creeping
+slowly along, now pausing again, now crouching with its head against a
+panel, and so remaining for many dumb minutes. And another phantom was
+at its heels.
+
+And when the lights were out, and the rooms, like the stairs and
+passages, were in darkness and the master in his bed, they were still
+there. So stealthy were their movements that no sound proceeded from
+them; their breathing was so faint that it would scarcely have
+disturbed a wintry leaf.
+
+Silence reigned.
+
+The sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued. Could it have
+carried the news to the wider thoroughfares, trodden by men and women
+whose business or pleasure kept them out so late, what message would
+it have conveyed? In its whispering voices would the word MURDER have
+found a place?
+
+At no great distance from the Square stood Saint Michael's Church, its
+clock proclaiming the hour.
+
+Ten!
+
+Eleven!
+
+Twelve!
+
+How long these hours took to strike! A measured pause between each
+stroke, and in that pause the passing away of a life in the life of
+the great city, or the ushering in of one. This life at an end, this
+with a feeble cry at the journey before it.
+
+One o'clock!
+
+Samuel Boyd was asleep. No prayer on his lips, no prayer in his heart,
+before he retired to rest. He slept in peace, undisturbed by fear or
+remorse.
+
+Suddenly he awoke. His heart beat wildly, a cold perspiration broke
+out on his forehead.
+
+With a powerful hand pressed upon his mouth, and another at his
+throat, no man can cry aloud. But while strength remains he can gasp,
+and moan, and fight for dear life--and may struggle out of bed, still
+with the hand upon his mouth, and another at his throat--and may
+summon to his aid all the despairing forces of his body--nay, even
+while thus imprisoned, succeed in dragging his adversaries this way
+and that--and may in his agony prolong the execution of the ruthless
+purpose. Though not avert it.
+
+The door between the two rooms is open while this muffled struggle is
+going on. Furniture is overturned and displaced, tapestry torn from
+the walls, and smaller articles tossed in all directions. On the part
+of one of the men there is displayed a cold, cruel, relentless method
+in the execution of his design; on the part of the other a wild,
+despairing effort to obtain possession of a weapon. He succeeds. A
+pistol is in his hand.
+
+A shot rings out! Another!--and the wax figure of the Chinaman
+collapses into a chair with a bullet in its heart.
+
+Again Saint Michael's Church proclaims the hour.
+
+Two o'clock!
+
+Silence reigns.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V.
+
+          CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.
+
+
+In the course of the next few days the weather exhibited its vagaries
+in a more than usually astonishing fashion. On the night of the 1st of
+March the sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued till early
+morning, when it pleased the air to become mild and balmy, almost
+promising the advent of spring. A few bold buds awoke and peeped out
+of their little brown beds, and over the atmosphere hung a hazy veil
+of dim, delicious sapphire. On the following day this promise was
+destroyed, and another change took place; and on the night of the 5th
+a fog which had been overlooked in the early winter took its revenge
+for the neglect by enveloping the City of Unrest in a mist so dense
+that Mrs. Pond, in a conversation with Mrs. Applebee the next day was
+driven to the use of a familiar illustration.
+
+"If you'll believe me, Mrs. Applebee," she said, "it was that thick
+you could have cut it with a knife. I could hardly see my hand before
+me."
+
+"But what took you out in it, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Applebee.
+
+"I couldn't help thinking of Pond," replied Mrs. Pond, a young woman
+of two and twenty, whose wifely experiences were tame in comparison
+with those of Mrs. Applebee, the mother of eight, "trapesing up and
+down in the cold while I was setting before a blazing fire as
+comfortable as you please. 'A cup of hot coffee 'll put life in him,'
+says I to myself, and I was soon on my way outside with a bottleful
+tucked under my cloak. It took me a good hour to get to him."
+
+"And by that time the coffee was cold," Mrs. Applebee remarked.
+
+"No, it was just lukewarm. Thinking of Pond I cuddled it close; but I
+don't mind confessing I was almost giving him up."
+
+"How did you find him at last, my dear?"
+
+"I'll tell you a secret," said the young wife, with a little blush.
+Mrs. Applebee, who dearly loved a secret or anything mysterious,
+pricked up her ears. "When Pond was put on the night beat we agreed
+upon a signal. It was his idea; he's that clever you wouldn't
+believe."
+
+"May it ever continue," ejaculated Mrs. Applebee.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Your opinion of him."
+
+"Oh, it will," said Mrs. Pond, nodding her head confidently. "What
+Pond thinks of is a bird-call, and he buys two, and gives me one. 'If
+it should chance to happen,' says Pond, 'that you're my way--say about
+ten o'clock--when I'm on duty, just you give a soft blow. When I hear
+it out comes my bird-call, and I give a soft blow. Only one, Polly,
+because it might be noticed and against the regulations.' It does
+often chance to happen that I'm Pond's way on a dark night," added
+Mrs. Pond, with a sly look, "and I give a soft blow and he gives
+another. He says it's like company when he hears it, and he resooms
+his tread with a light heart. As for me, I go home as happy as happy
+can be. Thankful I was last night when Pond answered my call, and
+thankful _he_ was for the coffee. 'Polly,' he says, 'you're a angel.'"
+
+"How many kisses did he give you, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Applebee," said Mrs. Pond, archly, "against the regulations,
+you know."
+
+"I've heard of it being done," said Mrs. Applebee, pensively, "even by
+policemen on night duty. It was a dreadful night for our men to be
+out, but duty's duty and the pay's regular. It's a good thing you got
+home safe. Is your room let yet?"
+
+"No, the bill's still in the window. Twenty-five pounds is a lot to
+pay for a house, but Pond says, 'Don't you fret, Polly; we'll soon get
+a lodger, and there's half the rent paid.' I must run home now in case
+he wakes up."
+
+Mrs. Applebee's lord and master was at that moment in his bed,
+dreaming of fogs and shadows. Mrs. Pond's lord and master was also
+enjoying repose. They lived in adjoining streets, and their husbands
+being in the Force and at present on the night beat, it was their
+habit to foregather for a social gossip while their good men were in
+the arms of Morpheus.
+
+There had been forewarnings of this visitation of the heaviest fog of
+the season. When people woke up on the morning of March 5th they
+thought it was the middle of the night. The comfortable illusion being
+dispelled by a consultation of watches and clocks they found that the
+sky was not visible, and that they could not distinguish the houses on
+the opposite side of the way. They crawled to their places of business
+in a discontented frame of mind, through a white blinding mist which
+made them uncertain of the direction they were taking. To add to their
+perplexities the trams and omnibuses were not running, and jubilant
+cabmen, bent (paradoxically) on making hay while the sun shines,
+walked at their horses' heads, holding the bridles, and demanded gold
+instead of silver for taking a fare anywhere. These creeping shadows,
+the muffled cries that fell upon the ear, and the lighted links which
+seemed to move through space without the aid of hands, were more like
+a scene in the infernal regions than a representation of the anxious,
+throbbing life of our modern Babylon.
+
+As the day wore on the fog lifted a little, but at night it became
+worse. Theatrical managers were sad and low-spirited, for their
+patrons were not disposed to leave their firesides in such weather,
+and the actors performed their ghostly parts to indistinct and scanty
+audiences, upon whom the brightest flashes of comedy fell with
+depressing effect. The fairies in the pantomimes which were still
+running were shorn of bright fancies, and even the bad spirits derived
+no pleasure from the perpetration of evil deeds. The few monomaniacs
+who believed that the end of the world was coming, were on their
+knees, waiting for the blast of Michael's trumpet. Topers standing at
+the bars of their favourite publichouses drank their liquor with a
+distinct absence of conviviality, and the verbal and visual inanities
+between barmaids and their admirers were shorn of that vacuous
+vivacity which generally distinguishes the intercourse of those
+parties. Dejection and dulness reigned in all the waking world.
+
+In no part of the city were matters quite so bad as in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square, North district, where, an hour after midnight,
+Constable Pond was cautiously feeling his way towards the border-line
+of his beat, hoping there to meet with human companionship in the
+person of Constable Applebee, who, himself animated by a similar hope
+in respect of Constable Pond, was advancing from an opposite
+direction. On this miserable night one crumb of comfort--oh, but it
+was more than a crumb; it might have been called a whole loaf--had
+fallen to the share of Constable Pond. He had not thought it likely
+that his wife would have ventured from the house, nor, lonely as he
+was, did he wish it; but when, an hour or so before midnight, he heard
+the familiar bird-call, he joyfully responded.
+
+"Why, Polly, Polly!" he exclaimed, passing his arm around her. "My
+senses don't deceive me, do they?"
+
+"I hope they don't," said Polly, drawing his arm tighter. "You
+wouldn't do this to another woman, I'm sure of that."
+
+"You may be, Polly, you may be. Not to Queen Victoria herself with her
+gold crown on. Well, this _is_ a surprise! Such a surprise, Polly, as
+makes up for all."
+
+He gave her a great hug. He did not consider the regulations--not he!
+
+"I'm afraid it's cold," said Polly, putting the bottle of coffee into
+his hand, and paying good interest for the hug. "It was boiling hot
+when I started."
+
+"What a brick you are!" said Constable Pond, extracting the cork with
+his teeth, and applying himself to the refreshment. "It's ever so much
+better than three-star. Here, take a pull yourself." She did. "Polly,
+you're a angel!"
+
+She laughed, but did not dispute it, and they remained a short time in
+fond dalliance. A strange hour for Cupid's pranks, but that urchin has
+no conscience. Polly proposed to walk the beat with her husband all
+through the night, but this was such an alarming infringement of the
+regulations that he would not listen to it. So he escorted her to the
+end of his beat, and would have escorted her farther, but _she_ would
+not listen to that.
+
+"Can you find your way home?" he asked, in doubt.
+
+"Blindfold," she answered promptly.
+
+"You may as well have the empty bottle," he said. "Hold it by the
+neck, and if anybody comes up to you give him a crack on the head with
+it. Another kiss, Polly!"
+
+As she walked away she blew on her bird-call every few yards, to which
+her husband did not fail to respond; and if desolation did not fall
+upon him when he could hear it no longer it was because of the
+impression which Polly's thoughtful love had produced upon him. "Good
+little woman," he said. "A regular trump, that's what she is." But a
+couple of hours' loneliness sent his spirits down again, and now he
+was seeking his brother-constable Applebee to cheer him up with the
+friendly word. With the advance of the night the fog continued to
+deepen, and he got into a state of muddle as to his whereabouts. His
+progress was painfully slow. The white mist blinded and deceived him;
+his footsteps were noiseless; and but for the striking of the hour
+from a neighbouring church he might reasonably have fancied that he
+was traversing a city of the dead.
+
+"Saint Michael's Church," he soliloquised, with a feeling of relief.
+"I didn't hear it when it struck last. Where could I have been--and
+where am I now? It can't be fur off, though whether it's to the right
+of me or the left of me, or before me or behind me, I'll be hanged if
+I can tell. What street am I in--Riley Street or Silver Street? If
+it's Riley Street I ought to come upon Applebee in a minute or two,
+unless he's at the other end of the beat. If it's Silver Street I'll
+have to tack."
+
+That he should be puzzled was not to be wondered at, for the streets
+he named were so precisely alike in every detail and feature that they
+might have been turned out of one mould. Their frontage was the same,
+their height was the same, their depth was the same, and each had the
+same number of rooms of exactly the same shape and dimensions, and the
+same number of chimney pots placed in exactly the same positions. When
+this mathematical demon of architecture receives its death-blow a joy
+will be added to existence.
+
+While Constable Pond stood debating whether to tack or creep straight
+on he saw in the distance what might be likened to a dead star--the
+misty glimmering of a despondent light; and on the chance of its
+indicating the presence of Constable Applebee he boldly challenged it.
+
+"Hallo, there!" he cried.
+
+"Hallo, there!" came the echoing answer.
+
+There was little life in their voices; they seemed to linger, as
+though they had not sufficient power to effectually pierce the thick
+air.
+
+"Is that you, Applebee?"
+
+"Yes, it's me. Is it Pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Your voice sounds strange. Come slow."
+
+Each advancing with caution, a friendly grasp of hands presently
+united them.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VI.
+
+                IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.
+
+
+"What a night!" then exclaimed Constable Pond.
+
+"The worst _I_ ever saw," responded Constable Applebee. "It's a
+record, that's what it is. We had a bad spell in December--lasted two
+days--you remember it, Pond?
+
+"Should think I did."
+
+"It was nothing compared to this. I'd sooner walk through a foot and a
+half of snow than through such a fog. It gets into the eyes, and into
+the chest, and into the head; you can squeeze it through your fingers.
+When it's snow you know where you are; there it is, at your feet; it
+don't mount. It gives a man fair play; this don't. I've been looking
+for you everywhere. Where did you get to?"
+
+"Hard to say. As fur as I know I haven't been off my beat."
+
+"Same here. Anything to report?"
+
+"No. Have you?"
+
+Constable Applebee gave no direct reply, but branched off into what,
+apparently, was another subject. "Look here, Pond. Are you a nervous
+man?"
+
+"Not particularly," answered Constable Pond, with a timid look around.
+
+"But you don't like this sort of thing?"
+
+"Who would?"
+
+"Ah, you may say that. If fog was fog, and nothing else, I'd put up
+with it. And why? Because we've got to."
+
+"A true bill," said Constable Pond, assenting.
+
+"But it brings something else along with it. That's what I complain
+of--and what I mostly complain of is shadders."
+
+"What do you mean?" inquired Constable Pond.
+
+"What I say. Shadders. I don't call _my_self a nervous man, but when
+you see something stealing along a yard or two ahead of you, and you
+go to lay hold of it and it vanishes--yes, Pond, vanishes--it's enough
+to give a man the creeps."
+
+"It'd give _me_ the creeps."
+
+"Very well, then," said Constable Applebee, as though a matter which
+had been in dispute was now settled. "Put a substantial body in my way
+and I'll tackle it. But how _can_ you tackle it when it melts and
+disappears? You call out, 'Now, then, what are you up to?' and you
+don't get a whisper in reply. Ain't that enough to aggravate a man?"
+
+"More than enough; I know how I should feel over it. But look here,
+Applebee, it ain't imagination, is it?"
+
+"Imagination!" exclaimed Constable Applebee, in a voice of scorn.
+"What! Me! Why, I don't suppose, from the day I was born to this
+blessed night of white fog, that if it was all reckoned up I've had
+imagination enough to fill a two-ounce bottle."
+
+This new view of the quality of imagination in relation to quantity
+seemed to impress Constable Pond, who turned it over in his mind
+without feeling himself equal to offer an opinion on it.
+
+"A fog like this always serves me the same way," said Constable
+Applebee. "There was a black fog when I was born I've heard my mother
+often say. That's why, perhaps."
+
+"But what happened?" asked Constable Pond. "You haven't told me that."
+
+"This happened. I see a shadder creeping along the wall. I foller it
+till I'm within half-a-dozen yards. Then I stop and hail it. The
+minute it hears my voice it gives a start, and when I run forward to
+lay hands on it, it vanishes."
+
+"You've got," said Constable Pond, admiringly, "the heart of a lion. I
+don't bring to mind that there's any orders about taking up shadders.
+Bodies, yes. Shadders, no."
+
+"I ain't exactly a mouse," said Constable Applebee, stiffening
+himself. "It happened a second time. There it was, creeping ahead of
+me. This time I don't give it a chance. I run after it and call out,
+'Stand up like a man!'"----
+
+"It might have been a female shadder," suggested Constable Pond.
+
+"Perhaps you know more about it than I do," said Constable Applebee,
+testily.
+
+"No, Applebee, no. Go on."
+
+"'Stand up like a man!' I call out. What's the consequence? It
+vanishes again, and there I stand, dumbfoundered."
+
+"Does it come a third time, Applebee?"
+
+"No, it don't come a third time. When I was a little boy my mother
+took me to the Polytechnic to see 'Pepper's Ghost.' You saw it, and it
+wasn't there. You run a sword through it, and it grinned in your face.
+I was that scared I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. It's my
+belief, if I'd got close enough to run a knife into the shadder, it'd
+have served me just the same. Step up, we're in the gutter."
+
+"It's singular, that's what it is. It's singular. Shall you report
+it?"
+
+"I'm doubtful of it. They might think I was off my head. Let it be
+between us, Pond."
+
+"It don't pass my lips, Applebee."
+
+They entered a hooded court, and halted there.
+
+"Where are we?" asked Constable Pond.
+
+"In Deadman's Court." Constable Pond shivered. "Leading to Catchpole
+Square, and leading nowhere else. You wouldn't catch _me_ living in a
+cooldersack."
+
+"What may be the meaning of that, Applebee?" asked Constable Pond.
+
+"You couldn't have been much of a dab at school to ask that question.
+Now, me!--but I won't boast. Cooldersack is French for blind
+thoroughfare. A man that sleeps as sound as I do 'd find himself in a
+trap, with a entrance like this. Suppose you live in the end house
+where Mr. Samuel Boyd lives, and there's a fire in the middle of the
+night. How's the fire engines to get to you? You wouldn't have half a
+chance. A man might as well be shut up in a bottle. Do you know the
+Square at all, Pond?"
+
+"No. Never been in it to my knowledge."
+
+"Couldn't have been in it without," said Constable Applebee, chuckling
+at his wit. "It's the rummiest built place _you_ ever saw. Just step
+in a minute. Not that you can see much of it with this fog on, but I
+could describe it blindfold. Six houses with the street doors in front
+of us--we're standing facing 'em now--and only one of 'em let, the one
+at the end corner, Mr. Samuel Boyd's. The others have been empty I
+don't know how long. Now right about face, and what do you see?"
+
+"As fur as I can make out," said Constable Pond, peering before him,
+"it's a blank wall."
+
+"It _is_ a blank wall, the backs of six houses, without any back
+entrance to 'em."
+
+"Where's the front entrance?"
+
+"In Shore Street. If we had Samuel Boyd's money we'd do better with
+it, wouldn't we, Pond? We'd have a house with a bit of garden in front
+and a bit of garden at the back, with a rose tree or two, and flowers
+in the winder--because what's the use of money if you don't enjoy it?"
+
+"That's what I say. Life's short. Only tempery."
+
+"Temporarily, Pond, temporarily," said Constable Applebee, in
+correction. "You _must_ have made a mess of it at school. My missis'd
+go wild with delight if she had a house like that. She's as fond of
+flowers as bees of honey."
+
+"So's mine," said Constable Pond, standing up for his own like a man.
+
+"They all are. And if I had my wish I'd never leave the house in the
+morning without one in my buttonhole. It mellers a man, Pond, that's
+what it does, it mellers him, and whether you're rough or whether
+you're smooth it shows you've got a good heart. I never saw Samuel
+Boyd with a flower in _his_ buttonhole, and if I lived to a hundred I
+never should. And I never had a civil word from him."
+
+"Nor anything in the way of a tip, I'll bet," remarked Constable Pond.
+
+"You'd win it. It was a different pair of shoes with his son, Mr.
+Reginald. There he was, as handsome and free a young chap as you'd set
+eyes on in a day's march, with a flower in his coat and a smile or a
+cheery word to brighten you up. 'A wild night, constable,' he'd say,
+'have a cigar?' And he'd slip one in my hand, and sometimes the price
+of a pint. It's nigh upon two years since I set eyes on him--wus
+luck!" These reminiscences came to a sudden stop. Constable Applebee
+clutched his comrade's arm, and whispered hoarsely, "Look there! The
+shadder!"
+
+A figure was creeping along the wall, as though in the endeavour to
+escape observation. They darted forward, and Constable Applebee laid
+his hand upon it, crying, "Now, then, give an account of yourself!" It
+was not a shadow, for shadows have no substance. It was not a shadow,
+for shadows have no voice. The sound of a sob escaped from the figure.
+Constable Applebee's grasp was nerveless rather than vigorous, and a
+less powerful effort than it made would have enabled it to escape. It
+was gone! Through Deadman's Court!
+
+"Quick, Pond, quick!" cried Constable Applebee. In a state of
+confusion they scrambled out of Catchpole Square, and came into
+violent collision. Ruefully rubbing their heads they looked about
+them, and saw nothing but the thick white fog.
+
+"Vanished!" exclaimed Constable Applebee. The collision had knocked
+Constable Pond's helmet off. Stooping to recover it he saw something
+white beneath it--a lady's handkerchief, trimmed with lace. With a sly
+glance at Constable Applebee he put it into his pocket.
+
+"It'll do for the missis," he thought. "She's fond of a bit of lace."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII.
+
+                   IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.
+
+
+Availing itself of the privilege to creep through every chink and
+crevice, to steal up backstairs and take advantage of every keyhole,
+and to make its dismal presence felt equally within the habitations of
+man as without, the white fog had insinuated itself into the Bishop
+Street Police Station, where it lay in the form of a semi-transparent
+shroud, and where Inspector Robson looked more like the ghost of a man
+than the man himself. In the brightest of weather the office was not a
+cheerful apartment; under the thrall of the white fog, an hour after
+midnight, it assumed a funereal aspect inexpressibly depressing.
+
+Busily employed in making out the charge sheet for the following day,
+Inspector Robson still found time to cast an occasional eye upon
+another ghostly form who, with one foot resting on the end of a wooden
+bench, was leaning against the wall in a negligent attitude, engaged
+in the insubstantial occupation of chewing a ghostly straw. The
+Inspector wrote a fine copperplate hand, and his steel pen neither
+scratched nor spluttered. On the present occasion he was taking
+extraordinary care over his task, as though more than usually
+important issues hung upon the perfect outlines of his pothooks and
+hangers. The absence of sound within the office and the shroud which
+lay upon it, rendering objects within a few yards of him indistinct,
+imparted so strong an air of unreality to the scene, that his slow and
+measured movements bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. The other ghostly person in the office chewed his straw and
+moved his lips with so regular and unintelligent a motion that _his_
+movements, also, bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. But for the difference in their ages these two men might
+have been posing to an invisible artist for a picture of the
+Industrious and the Idle Apprentices.
+
+That there was something in the negligent figure that discomposed the
+Inspector was evident from the expression on his face when he raised
+his head from the charge sheet and glanced in that direction, and it
+was quite as evident that his discomposure was powerless to arouse the
+cause of it from his apparent insensibility to all external objects
+and impressions. He was young and good-looking, his age probably
+twenty-four or five; Inspector Robson was old enough to be his father,
+and on his features were stamped the effects of long years of official
+responsibilities and steady application to duty. In this relation of
+the Idle and the Industrious Apprentices the marked contrast they
+presented was capable of a dramatic interpretation.
+
+"Do you intend to remain much longer?" inquired the Inspector, goaded
+at length into breaking the oppressive silence. "Because I'd like you
+to know I'm pretty well tired of you."
+
+"I'm pretty well tired of myself," replied the young man, in a
+listless tone. "As to remaining much longer I can't exactly say."
+
+"You have no right to be in this place, you know, unless you are here
+upon business. Now, the question is, are you here upon business? If
+you are, I'm ready to take it down."
+
+The young man turned the straw in his mouth, and appeared to reflect.
+Coming to a conclusion he languidly said, "I can't think of any
+particular business."
+
+"That's a pity," said the Inspector.
+
+"That's a pity," echoed the young man, with distinct indifference.
+
+"Well, then," said the Inspector, bracing himself up for a great
+effort, "as you have no business to be here unless you have business
+to be here----" This was so involved that it brought him to a full
+stop; scratching his head with whimsical perplexity he extricated
+himself from the difficulty by adding, "The best thing you can do is
+to clear out."
+
+The young man, deciding that he had sufficiently rested one foot,
+lowered it, and lifted the other upon the bench. This was the only
+movement he made.
+
+The Inspector resumed his writing with the manner of a man driven to a
+helpless pass. A peculiar feature of the defeat he had met with was
+that it did not seem to anger him. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"I don't often get into a temper, Dick."
+
+"Not often."
+
+"But when I do," said the Inspector, with an anticipatory chuckle,
+"it's a thing to remember."
+
+"When you do, uncle, I'll remember it."
+
+The Inspector finished the charge sheet, tidied up his papers, and
+looking over his shoulder at Dick, suddenly burst out laughing.
+
+Dick's face cleared; a light stole into his eyes; his lips quivered.
+These tokens of serious emotion were like the passing of a cloud. The
+next moment he joined the Inspector in the laugh, and the storm was at
+an end.
+
+"Where are you going to sleep, Dick?"
+
+"Let me see," Dick answered. "Buckingham Palace sounds tempting; there
+must be several beds unoccupied there. Could a fellow get between the
+sheets of one? Do you think it might be managed? I hope they keep a
+fire in the rooms and the sheets well aired."
+
+"Don't be a fool."
+
+"Can I help it?"
+
+"No, Dick, no," said the inspector, advancing and laying his hand
+kindly upon Dick's shoulder. "Upon my soul I don't believe you can."
+
+Dick lifted his eyes, with an implied suggestion that the Inspector,
+by the barest possibility, might be mistaken; but he did not put this
+into words.
+
+"I can't take you home with me," said the Inspector. "Aunt Rob won't
+have it. She's put her foot down, and when she puts her foot down,
+why, there it is."
+
+The comic helplessness expressed in this obvious statement seemed to
+amuse Dick, but he said, gravely enough, "Yes, there it is."
+
+"And there's Florence."
+
+At the introduction of this name a look of sad tenderness stole into
+Dick's eyes, but he said calmly, "Ah, and there's Florence."
+
+"Now, Dick, let us have this out, once and for all."
+
+"I'm agreeable."
+
+"It's altogether too bad," exclaimed the Inspector. "What with you and
+Florence, bless her! _and_ Aunt Rob, I haven't a moment's peace of my
+life. What Aunt Rob says is this. 'Here's Dick Remington,' she says,
+'that you've behaved as a father to, and that I've behaved as a mother
+to. Ever since he was left an orphan, having lost his father, then his
+mother--you were three years old when my poor sister died--he's lived
+with us as one of our own, and so we've treated him. He had a claim
+upon us, and that claim we've met.' And she says--her foot being
+down--'It's time Dick looked after himself.' She gave you a hint,
+which you took pretty quick. I'll say that of you; you took it almost
+too quick."
+
+"What else could I do?"
+
+"It was a mistake, Dick, to get into a huff as you did. The minute she
+began to speak you took her up sharp--and if there's one thing more
+than another that puts her back up it is to be took up sharp. You see,
+Dick, it's a delicate matter. Aunt Rob says, 'We must think of
+Florence. She comes first.' And she's right, Dick."
+
+"She is, uncle. Florence comes first--always first!"
+
+"'Here's Dick,' says Aunt Rob, 'that I'm as fond of as if he was my
+own son, what is he good for? What prospects has he got? He's been in
+one situation and another, and never keeps to one thing for more than
+a few weeks at a time. Here he is, a grown man, and here is Florence,
+almost a grown woman.' To think of it!" said Inspector Robson,
+pensively, breaking off. "It was only yesterday that she was in short
+frocks, going backward and forward to school, and climbing up on my
+knee to pull my whiskers, and cuddling up in my arms, and singing her
+little songs in a voice as sweet as music. And now! a grown woman! To
+think of it--to think of it!"
+
+"Loving you no less as a woman, uncle, than she did as a child."
+
+"I know it, my lad, I know it, but it sets a man on the think."
+
+And Inspector Robson fell forthwith into a brown study which lasted
+quite five minutes, during which the image of his only child, most
+tenderly and dearly beloved, presented itself to him in its sweetest
+and most engaging aspects.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A PRINCE.
+
+
+Dick Remington waited patiently to hear the full sum of the reproaches
+which Aunt Rob brought against him. He, too, saw with his mind's eye
+the image of the young girl for whom he would have laid down his life,
+and if his thoughts of her brought a pang to his heart they were at
+the same time charged with exceeding tenderness.
+
+Inspector Robson shook himself free from dreams, and returned to his
+subject.
+
+"That is what Aunt Rob says. 'Here is Dick a grown man, and here is
+Florence almost a grown woman. When Dick comes down in the morning he
+kisses Florence and she kisses him; and when he bids her good night he
+kisses her again. And,' says Aunt Rob, 'I don't know that this is a
+thing that ought to be allowed to go on.' I dare say it's puzzled
+other people as well as us when kissing ought to be left off. So long
+as you were little it was as natural as natural could be. You were
+playmates and chums, and you rolled on the floor together and played
+coach and horses and London Bridge is Falling Down, and you'd carry
+her on your shoulder and lift her as high as the ceiling, and throw
+her up and catch her, she screaming with delight and crying, 'Again,
+Dick, again!' You grew up, Dick, and when you were eighteen Florence
+was only twelve, and the kissing went on, and there was nothing to
+object to. But you got to be twenty and Florence fourteen, and the
+kissing went on. Then her frocks were lengthened, and the pair of you
+continued to grow up till she was nineteen and you twenty-five--and
+all this time the kissing went on. Now, Dick, there _must_ come a
+time when, even between cousins, kissing must stop. Sometimes it's
+done gradual, sometimes all of a sudden, which makes things a bit
+awkward--but one way or the other it's got to be done. You must see
+that yourself, Dick."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, uncle."
+
+"And Aunt Rob has got an eye to the future. Pretty girls like Florence
+don't grow on every gooseberry bush. Show me the girl that can compare
+with her. Do _you_ know of one, Dick?"
+
+"Not one in all the wide world," replied the young man. "God bless
+her, and make her happy!"
+
+"She's been brought up sensible," said Inspector Robson. "She can make
+a beef steak pudding and play the piano; there's nothing she can't
+turn her hand to, and the man that gets her will be a lucky chap. Aunt
+Rob thinks a gentleman born would not be too good for her. 'Why not
+say a marquis, or a prince?' says I to her, speaking sarcastic like.
+And she bridles up and answers, 'Why not? He might do worse; he
+couldn't do better.'"
+
+"No gentleman in the land," said Dick, with a tremor in his voice,
+"could be too good for Florence. She's equal to the best, and could
+hold her own among the best, even if they were born in a palace."
+
+"That's what Aunt Rob thinks," said Inspector Robson, his eyes glowing
+with loving pride, "and that's what we all think, and who that knows
+Florence could think differently? But let's come back to you, Dick,
+for that's the main point. Why don't you stick to one thing, my lad?"
+
+"Perhaps because it won't stick to me," Dick replied.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, lad, it's the other way about. Do you recollect
+the morning you went to your first situation, and how we all stood at
+the street door to see you off? There was Florence and Aunt Rob waving
+their handkerchiefs and kissing their hands to you till you were out
+of sight. You kept that situation seven months, and then you threw it
+up. You didn't like the place, you said. All right. You got another
+situation, as traveller on commission in the sewing machine line. You
+commenced well, and was earning your fifteen shillings a week. What
+was our surprise when you came home one night and told us you'd left
+because it wouldn't suit you? The next thing you took to was the
+stage, and you gave us tickets to come and see you act. We rehearsed
+at home, and Florence gave you the cues. As for your make-up as you
+call it, you did it so cleverly that we didn't know you when you come
+on the stage. 'That's what he's cut out for,' I said. 'One of these
+days he'll have a theatre of his own.' But Aunt Rob shook her head.
+You wrote a little piece in one act, and got it played--actually got
+it played. We thought it beautiful, and the way Florence laughed and
+cried over it--well! But it wasn't a success for all that. Still, you
+know, Dick, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. You didn't
+try again. You gave up the stage----"
+
+Dick interposed with, "Or it gave up me."
+
+"Anyway you left it. Your next move was clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square."
+
+"Ah!" said Dick, and there was a look of inquiry in his eyes as he
+fixed them upon the Inspector.
+
+"You may well say 'Ah,' for from what's known of him he's not the kind
+of man one would be proud to serve. What made you go to him?"
+
+"I was hard up, and had been trying for a couple of months to get in
+somewhere. I was curious about him, too: thought he would do for a
+character that I could make up like if I ever went on the stage, or
+could use if ever I wrote another play." He spoke with apparent
+carelessness, but with a covert observance of the Inspector while he
+gave this explanation.
+
+"It didn't surprise me that you remained with him only three months.
+When you left him you took to writing for the papers, and we read your
+paragraphs and articles with wonder at your cleverness. You don't do
+much in that way now, Dick?"
+
+"Not much," said Dick, with a smile, "but I haven't given it up
+entirely. There is always the future."
+
+"Ah, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, very seriously, "we don't
+live in the future, we live in the present. When we're hungry a future
+dinner won't satisfy our stomachs. Aunt Rob sums it up in three or
+four words. 'Dick's got no stability,' she says, and, against my will,
+I've come round to her way of thinking. I suppose, Dick, all this time
+you haven't saved a penny--eh?" The young man made no reply, and
+Inspector Robson cried, half angrily, half admiringly, "What business
+had you to be making us presents and bringing things home for Aunt Rob
+and me and Florence when you ought to have been looking after
+yourself? What did you do it for? 'Here's Dick brought home an immense
+turkey,' says Aunt Rob to me at Christmas; and at other times, 'Here's
+that stupid Dick brought home a couple of chickens, or a veal and ham
+pie,' and I don't know what all. 'I wish,' says Aunt Rob, 'that you'd
+tell him to stop it, and put his money into the savings bank.' But not
+you! At the least mention of such a thing you fired up and wanted to
+know what we meant by it."
+
+"I could not have acted differently," said Dick. "I was living upon
+you--yes, I was. You wouldn't take anything for my board and lodging,
+and I had to try and make it up in some way. It was little enough I
+did, but if I hadn't done that little I should have been ashamed to
+look you in the face. Besides, how many times have you said to me,
+'Dick, you must be in want of a bit of pocket money,' and forced a
+half sovereign upon me, and sometimes more?"
+
+"Welcome you were to it," said Inspector Robson, in his heartiest
+tone, "though it's my firm belief if you had a thousand a year you'd
+never have a shilling in your purse, you're that free with your money.
+A sailor come ashore after a two year's cruise is a fool to you." He
+paused a moment. "Dick, my lad, I've been too hard on you, in what
+I've said: I'm downright ashamed of myself."
+
+"It isn't in you, and it isn't in Aunt Rob, to do anything of which
+you need be ashamed. I have been thoughtless and inconsiderate----"
+
+"No, no, Dick!"
+
+"Yes, yes, uncle. I've been too much wrapped up in myself, and given
+no thought to the best friends a young ne'er-do-well ever had. If I
+could only make it up to you!" He turned his face to the wall, so that
+the Inspector should not see the tears that rushed into his eyes.
+
+"Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "have you got yourself into any
+money difficulty? Say the word, and I'll see what we can do to get you
+out of it."
+
+"What a trump you are!" exclaimed Dick. "No, uncle. I owe no one a
+shilling except you and Aunt Rob."
+
+"Don't keep on harping on that string or you'll get my temper up. If
+it isn't money, is it a woman?"
+
+"If you mean whether I've entangled myself with a woman, or done
+anything wrong that way, I can answer honestly, no."
+
+"I knew it, my lad, I knew it," said Inspector Robson, triumphantly.
+"Whatever your faults may be I was sure there wasn't a bit of vice in
+you. And now I tell you what it is; you shall come home with me
+to-night, your room's ready for you, and I'll make it all right with
+Aunt Rob. Make it all right! It _is_ all right. 'The place isn't the
+same, father,' she says to me, 'with Dick out of it.' If you knew how
+we've missed you, my lad, you'd grow an inch taller."
+
+"Who is it that has kept my room ready for me?"
+
+"Aunt Rob and Florence, to be sure."
+
+"And Florence," whispered Dick to himself, a wave of exceeding
+tenderness flowing over him.
+
+"Florence it was who said to Aunt Rob, 'Mother, we mustn't let Dick
+think when he comes back that we've been neglectful of him.' 'Of
+course not,' said Aunt Rob, and up they go to see that everything is
+sweet and clean. You know the pride that Aunt Rob takes in the house.
+You might eat off the floor. And there's Florence of a morning
+sweeping out your room, and looking in every corner for a speck of
+dust. There's the canary and the cage you gave her, _and_ the
+goldfish--why, if they were her own little babies she couldn't look
+after them better. So home we go together, and we'll let bygones be
+bygones and commence afresh."
+
+"No, uncle, I can't come home with you," said Dick, shaking his head.
+"I thank you from my heart, but it can't be."
+
+"Not come home with me!" exclaimed Inspector Robson, in great
+astonishment. "Why, what's the matter with the lad? You don't mean it,
+Dick, sure_ly!_"
+
+"I do mean it, uncle."
+
+"Dick, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, shaking a warning
+forefinger at the young man, "pride's a proper thing in the right
+place, but a deuced ugly thing when it makes us take crooked views. I
+say you _shall_ come home with me. Do you know what kind of a night it
+is, lad? I wouldn't turn a dog out in such weather, unless it was a
+blind dog, and then it wouldn't matter much. Come, come, Dick, think
+better of it."
+
+"Nothing can alter my resolution, uncle--nothing. I did not come here
+to-night to annoy you; I wanted a shelter, and I hoped the fog would
+clear; but it seems to have grown thicker. However, it can't last for
+ever. In three or four hours it will be morning, and then----"
+
+"Go on. And then?"
+
+"The night will be gone, and it will be day," said Dick, gaily.
+
+"And to-morrow night?"
+
+"It will be night again."
+
+"And you'll sleep in Buckingham Palace, for it stands to reason a man
+must sleep somewhere, and they don't charge for beds there that I'm
+aware of. How's the treasury, lad?" Dick laughed. "It's no laughing
+matter. Here's a sovereign; it'll see through the week at all events."
+
+"I'm not going to rob you, uncle," said Dick in a shaking voice.
+
+Inspector Robson caught Dick's hand, forced it open, forced a
+sovereign into it, and closed the young man's fingers over it, holding
+the hand tight in his to prevent the money being returned. In the
+execution of a ruthless action the Inspector's muscles were of iron.
+
+"If you drop it, or try to give it me back," he said, "I'll lock you
+up and charge you with loitering for an unlawful purpose. What will
+Florence think when she sees your name in the papers and my name
+charging you? Be sensible for once, Dick, if you've any feeling for
+her."
+
+The blood rushed up into Dick's face, and he staggered as if he had
+been struck; but he recovered himself quickly, and was the same
+indolent, easy-mannered being as before.
+
+"Thank you, uncle; I'll keep the sovereign. Before the week's out I
+daresay I shall get something to do. The mischief of it is, there's
+nothing stirring; stagnation's the order of the day. If I could hit
+upon something startling and be first in the field, I should get well
+paid for it. Would you object to my dashing on the colour in an
+article headed, 'A Night in an Inspector's Office.'? I think I could
+make it lurid."
+
+Before the laughing Inspector could reply a constable entered, holding
+by the arm a poorly dressed woman of woebegone appearance. Her
+gestures, her sobs, the wild looks she cast around, were those of a
+woman driven to distraction. Clinging to her skirts was a little girl
+as woebegone and white-faced as her mother.
+
+Inspector Robson instantly straightened himself; he was no longer a
+private individual, but an officer of the law prepared for duty in
+whatever complicated shape it presented itself.
+
+"She's been here half-a-dozen times to-night, sir," said the
+constable, "and last night as well, and the night before. She's lost
+her husband, she says."
+
+"My husband--my husband!" moaned the woman. "Find him for me--find him
+for me! He's gone, gone, gone! Merciful God! What has become of him?"
+
+Inspector Robson saw at a glance that here before him was no woman
+maddened by drink, but a woman suffering from terrible distress; and
+by a motion of his hand he conveyed an order to the constable, who
+instantly took his hand from the woman's arm.
+
+"What is your husband's name?" asked the Inspector in a gentle tone.
+
+"Abel Death, sir. Oh, for God's sake find him for me--find him for
+me--find him for me!"
+
+Tears rolled down her face and choked her voice. Every nerve in her
+body was quivering with anguish.
+
+"How long has he been gone?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"Five days, sir, five long, long days."
+
+"Was he in employment?"
+
+"Yes, sir, yes. Oh, what can have become of him?"
+
+"What is the name of his employer?"
+
+The agony the woman had endured overcame her, and she could not
+immediately reply.
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole Square," said the child.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IX.
+
+                   THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.
+
+
+She spoke in a hoarse voice, and very slowly, a scraping, grating
+cough accompanying her words. "Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole
+Square," might, according to her utterance, have lain in a
+charnel-house among the bones of the dead when she fished him up for
+the information of Inspector Robson. Such a rasping cough, forcing
+what little blood she had in her poor body up into her pallid face,
+where it stood out in blotches of dull, unhealthy red! Such a wearing,
+tearing cough, as though some savage, malignant beast, lurking in her
+chest, was clawing at it in sheer devilry, and scraping it clean to
+the bone! But she did not seem to mind it, nor, by her manner, did she
+invite pity for it. The cough was an old companion, "and goes on so,"
+she said to a juvenile friend, "when it takes me unawares, that it
+almost twists my head off." This was not said in a tone of
+complaining; it was merely a plain statement of fact.
+
+The name of Samuel Boyd had scarcely passed the girl's lips, when
+Inspector Robson darted forward to catch the woman, who, but for his
+timely help, would have fallen to the ground. Assisted by Dick he bore
+her to a bench, and there they succeeded in restoring her to
+consciousness.
+
+The attitude of the child was remarkable for its composure, which
+sprang from no lack of feeling, but partly from familiarity with
+suffering, and partly from a pitiful strength of character which
+circumstances had brought too early into play. Too early, indeed, for
+she was but twelve years of age, and had about her few of the graces
+which speak of a happy child-life. How different is the springtime of
+such a child from that of one brought up in a home of comparative
+comfort, where the pinching and grinding for the barest necessaries of
+life are happily unfelt! What pregnant lessons are to be learned from
+a child so forlorn--say, for instance, the lesson of gratitude for the
+better fortune and the pleasant hours of which we take no account!
+
+But Gracie Death did not murmur or repine. She simply suffered, and
+suffered in dull patience. It was her lot, and she bore it.
+
+The introduction of the name of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+brought a startled look into Dick's eyes, and he glanced at Inspector
+Robson to see if it made any impression upon him. The Inspector gave
+no indication of this, but devoted his whole attention to the woman,
+who, the moment she revived, was in full possession of her senses.
+
+"My husband!" she moaned. "My husband!"
+
+"Has he run away from you?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"No, sir, no," replied Mrs. Death. "He was too fond of us for that.
+The best husband, the best father! If you have any mercy in you, find
+him for me! What shall I do without him? What will the children do
+without him?"
+
+"We shall starve," said Gracie, answering the question, coldly and
+impassively.
+
+Inspector Robson coughed behind his hand, and his cough awoke the
+demon in Gracie's chest to emulation so strong that it straightway set
+to work, and the spectators had a practical illustration of her
+statement that it was "enough to twist her head off."
+
+"The child has a bad cough," said Inspector Robson, with a look of
+pity; "she oughtn't to be out on such a night."
+
+"I _would_ come with mother," said Gracie. "It ain't her fault, it's
+mine."
+
+The Inspector coughed again, and Gracie's demon followed suit.
+
+"Did your husband drink?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"No, sir, no," said the woman, reproachfully. "How can you ask it?
+Gracie will tell you. Did father drink, Gracie?"
+
+"Yes," she answered. "Tea. Very weak. I like it strong," and added,
+"when I can get it."
+
+"I wish I had a cup to give you," said Inspector Robson.
+
+"So do I," said Gracie, "and a cup for mother."
+
+"If there's anything you wish to tell me," said the Inspector,
+addressing the woman, "I will see what can be done. Take your time,
+and don't hurry. He was employed by Mr. Samuel Boyd, you say."
+
+"Yes, sir, of Catchpole Square. He was Mr. Boyd's clerk, and a hard
+time he had of it. We did the best we could upon his miserable salary,
+but what with one thing and another we were worried out of our lives."
+
+"Did I worry you, mother?" asked Gracie. "I'd stop coughing if I
+could, but I can't. If it didn't worry mother, gentlemen, I wouldn't
+mind. It ketches me that tight that I can't hold it if I try ever so.
+I _do_ try, mother!"
+
+"You do, my dear. A little while ago"--to the Inspector again--"we
+borrowed three pounds of a money-lender and signed a paper, and though
+we've paid it twice over he makes out that we owe him more than we did
+at the beginning. Our bits of furniture aren't worth much, but it's
+all we have, and every time he comes he threatens to sell us up."
+
+"I wish he'd sell my cough up," said Gracie, with a queer little
+laugh, "I'd let it go cheap. It wouldn't fetch much, I reckon, but he
+can have it and welcome, because it worries mother."
+
+"That's the way she talks of it, sir. She never thinks of herself."
+
+"Oh, don't I, though? You mustn't believe everything mother says,
+gentlemen."
+
+"Let me go on, dear, and don't interrupt, or you'll make the gentlemen
+angry."
+
+"I'd be sorry to do that. You _will_ help mother won't you, please!"
+
+"We'll try," replied Inspector Robson, kindly and patiently.
+
+"Then I won't say another word till she's done," said Gracie.
+
+"Last Friday night he came home in a terrible state," continued the
+woman, fondling Gracie's cheek with her trembling hand. "He hoped to
+get the loan of a few pounds from Mr. Boyd, so that we could pay the
+money-lender off, and buy a chest protector for Gracie, and a little
+warm clothing for the other children."
+
+It was as much as Gracie could do to refrain from protesting that she
+didn't want a chest protector, or any nonsense of that sort, but when
+she passed her word she was not in the habit of breaking it, so she
+contented herself with shutting her thin white lips tight, and looking
+defiantly at the mist that filled the room. Which revenged itself by
+tickling her throat to such a degree that she almost choked.
+
+"He went out in the morning full of hope," said Mrs. Death, when the
+fit of coughing was over, "and came home full of despair. Instead of
+getting the loan which was to set us free and give the children a
+chance, he had been discharged. Discharged, gentlemen, discharged, at
+a moment's notice! It came upon me like a thunder-clap, and when I saw
+my husband sitting at the table with his face hidden in his hands, I
+wondered what we were sent into the world for. Look at my little
+Gracie here, gentlemen. She doesn't weigh half her proper weight, and
+she hasn't an ounce of flesh on her bones. She's more like a skeleton
+than anything else, and so are we all. Look at her, and look at me,
+and think of our little children at home almost at the point of death,
+and you'll understand why my poor dear husband was filled with
+despair. Oh, it's bitter cruel, bitter, bitter cruel! One tries, and
+tries, and tries, and never a spark of light to comfort us. Nothing
+but misery, nothing but misery, nothing but misery!"
+
+It was terrible to hear the repetition of her words, terrible to
+witness her agony and her just rebellion against her cruel fate.
+Gracie did not speak, but slid her little hand, cold as ice, into the
+hand of her mother, who clasped it convulsively. Quietly and
+impassively the child watched the faces of the listeners to note the
+effect the appeal had upon them.
+
+"Would it be a breach of duty to introduce a mug of hot tea into a
+police station?" asked Dick of the Inspector.
+
+"No, it would not," said Inspector Robson. "There's a can in the
+cupboard there. Here's a shilling. Get it filled."
+
+"I must stop and hear the end of this story," said Dick. "I've a
+reason for it. The constable can go, can't he?"
+
+Inspector Robson nodded, and the tin can and the shilling being given
+to the constable, he departed on the errand.
+
+By this time the woman had sufficiently recovered to proceed.
+
+"There my poor husband sat, the picture of misery, and never said a
+word, and I hadn't a word of comfort to give him. To tell him to bear
+up--what would have been the use of that? I put before him what little
+food there was in the cupboard, but he pushed it away and wouldn't
+touch it. All at once he started up and said, 'I'm going out.' 'Where
+to?' I asked, and I put my hand on his arm to keep him at home, for
+his face was dreadful to see, and I was afraid of--I don't know what.
+He guessed what was in my mind. 'No,' he said, 'don't think that of
+me. You've got enough trouble to bear as it is; I won't bring more on
+you. I'll fight on to the bitter end.' You know what was in my mind, I
+dare say."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+The woman resumed. "'Where are you going?' I asked him again. 'To
+Catchpole Square,' he answered. 'I'll make another appeal to Mr.
+Boyd.' I didn't think there was any hope for us, but I knew it would
+dishearten him if I said as much, and I let him go. As near as I can
+remember it was half past nine, and I expected him back before eleven,
+but at eleven there was no sign of him. I did not dare to leave the
+house, for the children hadn't got to sleep yet, and if he returned
+while I was away it would put everything in confusion. I waited and
+waited till I could bear it no longer, and then I went out to look for
+him, thinking that perhaps Mr. Boyd had relented, and had given my
+husband work to do which kept him in the office all night. It was past
+two when I reached Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows.
+There's never any life to be seen there, and I didn't see any then.
+There was a bell-pull at the door that wouldn't ring, so I knocked and
+knocked and kept on knocking without any one coming. I hung about the
+Square for an hour and more, and knocked again and again as loud as I
+could, and at last I came away and ran home, hoping to see my husband
+there. Gracie was awake, and said nobody had come while I was away.
+Can you understand my feelings, sir?"
+
+"I can," replied Inspector Robson, as the constable entered the office
+with an empty cup and the can of hot tea. "Take a drink of this before
+you go on. It'll warm you up." He filled the cup with the steaming
+liquid and gave it to her.
+
+Gracie's eyes glittered, but she did not move, and when her mother
+offered her the mug she said, "No, mother. After you's manners," in
+quite an elegant way, as though their mission to the police station
+was to take afternoon tea with the Inspector. Mrs. Death, too well
+acquainted with her child's character to attempt any persuasion,
+therefore drank first, deep sighs of satisfaction betokening her
+gratitude. Refilling the cup Inspector Robson handed it to Gracie,
+who, before she put it to her lips, said, in her best society manner,
+
+"To you and yours, sir, and gentlemen all, and may none of you ever
+feel the want of it. The Lord make us truly thankful! Hallelujah!"
+
+A form of grace which, but for the pathetic side of the picture, might
+have caused some amusement to those who heard it.
+
+Nothing of Gracie's face could be seen except her coal black eyes
+glittering like dusky stars above the white rim of the mug as she
+tilted it, and though the tea scalded her throat she made no pause
+till the last drop was finished. Then she sidled up to her mother and
+stood quietly there, her child-soul filled with thankfulness which was
+not expressed in her thin, sallow face.
+
+"Saturday passed, sir," said the woman, pressing Gracie to her side
+and resuming her story, "and he didn't come home, and nobody could
+tell me anything about him. It was the same all day Sunday and all
+yesterday; I was never off my feet. Half-a-dozen times every day have
+I been to Catchpole Square, knocking at the door without being able to
+make anybody hear. What am I to do, what _am_ I to do? If somebody
+don't help me, I shall go mad!"
+
+"The only thing I can suggest just now," said Inspector Robson, "is
+that your husband's disappearance should be made public. Come to the
+magistrate's court to-morrow morning at twelve or one o'clock. I will
+be there, and will see that you get a hearing. Some of the reporters
+will take notice of it, and it will get into the papers. It's the best
+advice I can give you."
+
+"I'll follow it, sir," said the woman, but it was evident that she had
+given up hope. "Thank you kindly for listening to me so patiently.
+Come, Gracie, we'll go home. Will it be sure to get into the papers,
+sir, if I come to the magistrate's court?"
+
+Inspector Robson looked at Dick, who nodded. "I think I can promise
+that. Now get home as quickly as possible, and put your little girl to
+bed. Her cough is dreadful."
+
+In a voice as hoarse as any raven's, and quite composedly, as if the
+Inspector were the object of compassion, Grace said, "Don't let it
+worry you, please. _I_ don't mind it, not a bit." She drew her breath
+hard as she added without any show of feeling, "You _will_ find
+father, won't you? Mother'll never forget you for it. You've been ever
+so good to us. I never tasted such tea, and, oh my! wasn't it hot
+neither? Come along, mother.
+
+"You had better leave your address," said Dick, who had listened to
+the woman's story with absorbed attention.
+
+"We live at Draper's Mews, number 7, second floor back." While Dick
+was writing it down Inspector Robson slipped a sixpence into Gracie's
+hand. Then, patting her shoulder, he gave her an encouraging smile,
+which she acknowledged, as she did the sixpence, though her fingers
+closed quickly and tightly over the coin, with the same gravity as
+distinguished all her movements. Emerging into the street she began to
+cough with great violence, and gasped and fought with her little
+fists, as though the demon in her chest, now that he had got her
+outside, was bent upon tearing her to pieces. The men in the police
+station listened compassionately until the child and her cough were
+lost in the fog through which she and her mother were slowly creeping.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X.
+
+                   UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.
+
+
+"Is that in your line, Dick?" said Inspector Robson. "You were wishing
+for something startling, and I should say you've got it."
+
+"It is hardly startling enough yet," Dick replied, "but there's no
+telling what it may lead to. Have you formed an opinion?"
+
+"I haven't heard lately of any dead bodies being found that couldn't
+be identified, but it looks to me as if the man has made away with
+himself."
+
+"No, uncle. I'll take his own word for it that he'd do his duty and
+fight it out to the bitter end."
+
+"Mightn't he have said so to his wife to quiet her? And even if it
+wasn't in his mind then, it might have come suddenly afterwards. When
+a man's in the state he was, there's no telling what he might do on
+the spur of the moment. I don't throw doubt on Mrs. Death's story,
+though I've heard some queer stories in my time and believed in them
+at the time they were told, only to find out a little later that there
+wasn't one word of truth in them. The lengths that people'll go to
+whose minds are unsettled is astonishing. Astonishing!" he repeated
+reflectively. "How often do you hear of men giving themselves up as
+murderers when they're as innocent as the babe unborn!"
+
+"Suppose we try and follow Mrs. Death's story out, uncle," said Dick.
+
+"Go ahead. Upon my word, Dick, I almost fancy I hear that poor child's
+cough now--the ghost of a cough travelling through the fog. It will
+make a ghost of her, I'm afraid, before she's many weeks older."
+
+"Poor little mite!" said Dick, and paused a moment. "Uncle Rob, you've
+the kindest heart that ever beat."
+
+"Pooh, pooh, my lad, the fog's got into your foolish noddle."
+
+"You don't deserve," pursued Dick, very earnestly, "to have trouble
+come upon you unaware----"
+
+"Dick!" cried Inspector Robson, startled by the unusual earnestness
+with which the words were spoken no less than by the words themselves.
+"Trouble come upon me unaware! Do you know what you are saying, my
+lad?"
+
+"I was thinking," said Dick, in some confusion, "of the trouble that
+comes unexpectedly to many people without their being prepared for
+it."
+
+"Oh, that! Well, when such trouble comes we've got to bear it and meet
+it like men."
+
+It was in Dick's mind, though not upon his tongue, "But if it comes
+upon you through the one you hold most dear, through Florence, dear to
+me as to you, how will you bear it then?"
+
+"Go on with the story of Abel Death, Dick. The last we see of him is
+when he sits at the table in his lodgings with his head in his hands,
+and starts up to make one more appeal to Samuel Boyd. The first
+question is, does he go straight to Catchpole Square, or does he go
+into a public and get drunk?"
+
+"He goes straight to Catchpole Square, and knocks at Samuel Boyd's
+door."
+
+"Admitted--for the sake of argument."
+
+"The next question is, does he get into the house?"
+
+"And there," said the Inspector, "we come to a full stop."
+
+"Not at all. Let us consider the possibilities. There are a dozen
+doors open."
+
+"All opening on different roads, and leading to confusion. Better to
+have one strong clue than a dozen to distract your mind."
+
+"Granted," said Dick; "but in the absence of that one strong clue I
+shall leave all the doors open till I see what is behind them. Let us
+suppose that Abel Death gets into the house."
+
+"Openly or secretly, Dick?"
+
+"Openly. Samuel Boyd admits him. He takes delight in playing with
+those whom he oppresses, in worrying and torturing them, in leading
+them on to hope, and then plunging them into despair. Abel Death being
+in the house, the question arises did he ever get out of it?"
+
+"What are you thinking of, Dick? Murder?"
+
+"The man is gone, and left no trace behind. If he had committed
+suicide it is a thousand to one that his body would have been found
+and identified."
+
+"True."
+
+"How do men commit suicide?" continued Dick. "I will confine myself to
+four methods: by poison, by hanging, by shooting, by drowning. It
+would have been difficult for Abel Death to purchase poison; his
+nerves were unstrung, and an inquiry for poison across the counter
+would have caused suspicion; the state of agitation he was in would
+have prevented the invention of a plausible explanation. We put poison
+aside. A pistol he could not have possessed, because of his poverty.
+We put shooting aside. Hanging comes next; but if he had resorted to
+that means of ending his life a very few hours would have sufficed to
+make the matter public. There would be no mystery to clear up. This
+reduces us to drowning. The water-ways of London do not hide many
+secrets of this nature, and had he sought death in the river his body
+would have been washed ashore."
+
+"Therefore, Dick," said Inspector Robson, looking at his nephew in
+admiration, "not suicide."
+
+"Therefore, uncle, not suicide."
+
+"He may have run away."
+
+"With what object? His pockets were empty, and the idea of
+unfaithfulness to his wife is preposterous."
+
+"Very well. Let us get back to the main point. What has become of Abel
+Death. We left him in Samuel Boyd's house, and we decide that he did
+not come out of it. I am going to have my say now."
+
+"Fire away."
+
+"The man not coming out of the house, the natural conclusion is that
+he is dead, and if he did not meet his death by suicide there has been
+murder done. To be sure," he said, reflectively, "there are other
+probabilities. He might have had heart disease--might have fallen down
+in a fit which put an end to him. Assuming this, what course would
+Samuel Boyd, or any sensible person, pursue? He would give
+information--his own safety depended upon it. A doctor's certificate
+as to the cause of death would clear him. He does nothing of the sort.
+He keeps himself locked up in the house, and refuses to answer the
+repeated knocks at his street door. I have heard you say he lives
+alone, and that no servant sleeps in the house."
+
+"That is so."
+
+"Catchpole Square leads to nowhere. It is, in a certain sense, out of
+the world. Can you tell me, of your own knowledge, whether Samuel Boyd
+keeps sums of money in his house?"
+
+"Of my own positive knowledge I cannot tell you; but I am convinced
+that he does."
+
+"What we've got to look to in these cases," said Inspector Robson,
+sagely, "is motive--motive. The mainspring in a watch keeps it going;
+motive is the mainspring in a man, and it keeps _him_ going. Now, what
+motive had Samuel Boyd for murdering Abel Death--always supposing,
+Dick, that there was a murder? He had nothing to gain by it, and it
+was not he who went to Abel Death's house, but Abel Death who went to
+his. And went with anger and despair in his heart. Put it the other
+way----yes, by the Lord!" he cried, as if a light had suddenly broken
+upon him. "Put it the other way. There was a motive for Abel Death
+murdering Samuel Boyd. He was poor, and in desperate need of money;
+his master was rich, and had refused to give it to him. The motive was
+robbery, by fair means or foul. If this is what occurred Abel Death's
+disappearance is explained. He's in hiding somewhere, or has managed
+to get on board a ship bound for foreign parts." He broke off with a
+laugh. "What nonsense am I talking? My wits are going wool-gathering.
+You've fairly muddled me, Dick, by the serious way you've spoken of
+this affair, in which, after all, I don't see anything mysterious.
+I've known scores of cases where people have disappeared, and have
+come back after a few days or weeks, or months even, in the most
+natural manner possible. Be careful of what you do, my lad, or you're
+likely to get yourself in a tangle."
+
+"I'll be careful, uncle. You will see me at the magistrate's court in
+the morning. Good night."
+
+"Can't I persuade you to come home with me?" said Inspector Robson, in
+his kindest tone.
+
+"No; my mind's quite made up on that point."
+
+He walked towards the door, Inspector Robson looking ruefully and
+affectionately after him, when he turned and said,
+
+"By the way, uncle, have you seen Mr. Reginald lately?"
+
+"Not since last Sunday week, when he dropped in, as usual. Him and
+Florence went out for a walk together."
+
+"As usual," said Dick, lightly.
+
+"As usual," said Inspector Robson, gravely. "He's a gentlemanly young
+fellow."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Been to France and Germany, and to good schools for education."
+
+"Did he tell you that himself?"
+
+"Florence told us."
+
+"Dear little Florence!" Such wistful tenderness and regret in his
+voice!
+
+"Aunt Rob thinks all the world of him," said Inspector Robson, his
+voice also charged with tenderness and regret.
+
+"I know she does."
+
+Inspector Robson stepped to Dick's side, and laid his hand caressingly
+on the young man's shoulder. "Dick! Dick!"
+
+"No nonsense of that sort, uncle," said Dick, gently shaking himself
+free. "I've been going to ask you once or twice whether you put any
+other name to Reginald."
+
+"Now you mention it, Dick, I never have."
+
+"Has Aunt Rob, or Florence?"
+
+"Not that I'm aware of. We've always called him Mr. Reginald. It's not
+a bad name, Dick."
+
+"Not at all a bad name, but most people have two. Good night, uncle."
+
+"Good night, Dick, if you _must_ go." Other words were struggling to
+his lips, but before he could utter them Dick was off.
+
+"It never struck me before," mused Inspector Robson, sadly. "Can that
+be the reason----" He did not say the reason of what, and his
+cogitation ended with, "Poor Dick! I hope not--I hope not!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XI.
+
+                   DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.
+
+
+Dick Remington also mused as he made his way through the white mist.
+His thoughts, put into words, ran in this wise:
+
+"Come, old man, let us review the past, and see how we stand. If I'm
+not mistaken Aunt Rob has hit the nail straight on the head, and Uncle
+Rob made a clumsy blow at it. But my secret is mine, and I will guard
+it jealously.
+
+"Dear little Florence! My chum, my comrade, almost from the day of her
+birth. Boys aren't generally fond of babies, but I was of her from the
+first; and when as a child she promised to be my wife when she grew up
+I did not think of it as a thistledown promise that time would lightly
+blow away. At that age we do not think; our hearts, our souls, are
+like a prism which leaps into light and colour when light and colour
+shine upon it. Had I been wiser I might have believed that a more
+enduring flower than thistledown would grow up in its place, a flower
+that would bloom and shed its sweetness and fragrance upon me through
+all the years to come. Thank God I was not wiser, for we were very
+happy then. It was only when graver responsibilities forced themselves
+upon me that I knew, as I know now, that she and she alone could bring
+happiness into my life. Fate willed it otherwise. It can never be.
+
+"Would it have been otherwise had I myself been different from what I
+am, been firmer of purpose, had won respect and esteem for sterling
+qualities that are not in my nature? Who can tell? We are the sport of
+circumstance, and drift, and drift, and drift--as I have drifted. You
+are quite right, Aunt Rob. Your nephew, Dick Remington, has no
+stability--but he can keep his secret.
+
+"Does Florence suspect it? Sometimes I have thought she has a fear
+that the love I bear for her is not the love a brother bears for his
+sister; sometimes I have thought there was a dumb pity in her eyes as
+she looked at me. And when, with this impression upon me, I have
+launched into light speech and manner, as though I were incapable of
+deeper feeling, I have noticed the relief it gave her to learn that
+she was mistaken. Of one thing she may be sure. That there is no
+sacrifice I would hesitate to make to secure her happiness--that she
+may rely upon me and trust me with implicit confidence--that I am
+her faithful watchdog, ready to die in her service without hope of
+reward. Yes, dear Florence--so dear that my heart aches when I think
+of her--be sure of that.
+
+"She grew into beauty incomparable, and to observe this was a daily
+delight to me. But I love her chiefly for her gentleness, her purity,
+her dear womanly ways which find their best expression in her kindness
+and sweetness to all around her. We lived our quiet life, disturbed
+only by my harum-scarum habits, and then Mr. Reginald stepped into the
+picture--Mr. Reginald Boyd, son of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square.
+That was before I took service with the old hunks, and it was because
+of the son that I sought and obtained a situation in the father's
+office. For I said to myself, 'Here is this young gentleman
+introducing himself simply as Mr. Reginald, when I, from my previous
+knowledge of him (of which he was not aware) know him to be the son of
+that man. What reason has he for the suppression?' There was no
+acquaintance between us. Happening to be in conversation one day with
+a constable in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square a young gentleman
+passed with a flower in his coat. There was something in him that
+struck me as bearing a resemblance to myself, the advantage being on
+his side. A free and easy manner, a certain carelessness of gesture,
+an apparent disregard of conventionality, a bright smile (which I have
+not), a grace (which I have not). He gave the constable a friendly
+word and walked on without looking at me. 'Who is that gentleman?' I
+inquired. 'Mr. Reginald,' the constable answered, 'son of Samuel Boyd,
+though you would hardly believe it if you knew the pair of them.' I
+thought no more of the matter, and saw no more of Mr. Reginald, till
+he made his appearance one evening in Aunt Rob's house. He did not
+recognise me, but I knew him immediately.
+
+"We were introduced by Florence. 'My cousin, Dick Remington,' she
+said, 'Mr. Reginald.' There was a blush on her cheek, a shy look in
+her eyes. I waited for his other name. Why did it not come? Because
+the name of Samuel Boyd was held in general detestation? It was a fair
+inference that that was his reason for concealing it.
+
+"He became a regular visitor to the house, and I perceived that his
+visits were eagerly looked forward to by Florence. Have I delayed too
+long? I thought. Have I been foolishly silent as to the real feelings
+I entertain for the dear girl, and given another man the chance of
+occupying the place in her heart which it was my dearest wish to fill?
+The thought was torture; I seemed to awake from a dream. For had I
+spoken in time my love for her might have awakened a responsive echo
+in her breast. I cannot speak with certainty as to this, but it might
+have been. One day I saw Florence and Mr. Reginald walking out
+together, he speaking with animation, she listening modestly with head
+cast down. I was careful that they should not see me. They passed from
+my sight through the garden of hope and love, I pursued my way through
+an arid waste."
+
+Some spiritual resemblance between the arid waste of his hopes and the
+arid waste of white mist through which he was walking seemed to strike
+him here. It brought a sudden chill to his heart. Love that was
+hopeless could have found no more emphatic illustration than the
+silence and desolation by which he was surrounded. The light of heaven
+had died out of the world. No star shone, no moon shed its peaceful
+rays upon the earth, and for a few moments he allowed the deathlike
+lethargy of nature to overpower him. Through the silence stole a
+muffled voice:
+
+"Lost, lost for ever is the love you hoped to gain. Not for you the
+tender look and word, the sweet embrace, love's kiss upon your going
+and returning, the prattle of children's voices, the patter of little
+feet, the clinging of little arms. Not for you the joys of Home!"
+
+So powerfully was he affected by these melancholy thoughts that he
+involuntarily raised his hand, as if to avoid a blow.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII.
+
+             DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE
+                       SERVICE OF SAMUEL BOYD.
+
+
+But Dick's nature was too elastic for morbid reflections such as these
+to hold possession of him for any length of time.
+
+"Come, come, old man," ran again the tenor of his musings, "this sort
+of thing won't do, you know. What's the use of crying for the moon?
+Leave that to children. Now where did I leave off? Ah--where Mr.
+Reginald was a regular visitor at Aunt Rob's house. All that time the
+name of Boyd was not mentioned by Florence or her parents. Nor did it
+pass my lips.
+
+"I took service with Mr. Samuel Boyd in order to obtain a clue to his
+son's suppression of his name. Before I had been with him a week I
+gauged his character. Devoid of the least sign of generous sentiment,
+crafty, tricky, mean, overbearing to those in his power, fawning
+to those above his station from whom he hoped to obtain some
+advantage--such is the character of this odious man, whose son was
+then winning, or had won, his way into Florence's heart. If there is
+any truth in the adage, 'Like father, like son,' what a fate is in
+store for her! Fervently do I trust that this is not so, though there
+are tricks of inheritance from which it is impossible to escape.
+
+"Not once did I see Mr. Reginald in his father's house, nor did Mr.
+Boyd make the slightest reference to him. Had Mr. Boyd any other
+residence in which he and his son were in the habit of meeting? No--he
+lived in Catchpole Square, had his meals there, slept there,
+transacted his business there. Yet his son was in London, within easy
+distance of him. It was obvious that they were not on friendly terms.
+I set my wits to work to ascertain the cause, but cautious as I was, I
+found myself baffled at every turn. Convinced that Mr. Boyd would turn
+me out of the house the moment his suspicions were aroused, the task I
+had undertaken proved more difficult than I had anticipated. If I kept
+secret watch upon him he kept secret watch upon me. That he had no
+confidence in me is not strange, for he has no confidence in any man.
+And the cunning tricks he played! He would leave me alone and go
+downstairs and slam the street door, to make me believe that he had
+left the house. Then, though not another sound had reached my ears, he
+would suddenly enter the room, treading like a cat, and with a sly
+smile on his lips, and his cunning eyes would wander around to assure
+himself that not an article had been shifted or removed.
+
+"I remained with him three months, and discovered--nothing. During the
+first two months I did not tell them at home where I was employed, and
+they teazed me about making a secret of it. A week or so before I left
+Mr. Boyd's service I fired a shot straight at Mr. Reginald. It was on
+a Sunday, and we were sitting together, chatting as usual, when I said
+suddenly, 'I don't see, Aunt Rob, why I should continue to make a
+mystery of the work I am doing. I am clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square.' Mr. Reginald flushed up, but I took no notice, and
+went on to say that I had resolved not to stay much longer in the
+place--that the pay was miserable, that the kind of business done
+there was disreputable and execrable, and that Samuel Boyd was one of
+the trickiest and cunningest fellows in all London; in fact, I gave
+him the worst of characters, and my only excuse is that he thoroughly
+deserved it. 'That's another situation thrown up,' said Aunt Rob. 'Oh,
+Dick, Dick, a rolling stone gathers no moss.' 'Would you advise me to
+stop with such a man, and gather dirt?' I asked. 'No, I would not,'
+she answered emphatically. 'That Samuel Boyd must be an out-and-out
+rascal.' 'He is,' I said. 'You would hardly believe the things I've
+seen in his office, the pitiless ruin he brings upon people.' Mr.
+Reginald said never a word; the flush died out of his face, and it
+turned white. I looked at Florence--no sign upon _her_ face that she
+knew anything of the man we were speaking of. Here was proof positive
+that Mr. Reginald had introduced himself under false colours.
+
+"As all Mr. Boyd's other clerks had done, _I_ left at a moment's
+notice, but I did not give him the opportunity of discharging me. I
+discharged him. He had played me one of his usual tricks, pretending
+to leave the house and sneaking in noiselessly behind my back and
+looking over my shoulder. It happened that, with my thoughts on
+Florence and Mr. Reginald, I had idly scribbled his name on a piece of
+paper, Mr. Reginald Boyd. Before I could put the paper away he had
+seen it. 'Ah,' he said, without any show of passion, 'I have found you
+out at last, you scoundrel!' 'Scoundrel yourself,' I cried. 'Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, I discharge you. I've had about enough of you.' 'I've had
+more than enough of you,' he snarled. 'You came here to spy upon me,
+did you? You and your Mr. Reginald are confederates, are you, and you
+wormed yourself into my service in pursuance of some plot against me.
+I'll prosecute the pair of you for conspiracy.' 'You are a fool as
+well as a knave, Mr. Samuel Boyd,' I said, laughing in his face. 'As
+for prosecuting me, shall I fetch a policeman, or will you go for one?
+I shall have something to tell him that will get into the papers. It
+will make fine reading.' He turned white at this. 'Go,' he said,
+throwing open the door. And I went, without asking for the five days'
+pay due to me, to which, perhaps, I was not entitled as I left him
+without giving him notice.
+
+"Now, Dick, old man, what is to be done? The straight thing is to
+speak first to Mr. Reginald himself, and that I'll do before I'm many
+days older."
+
+Here Dick's meditations came to an end. There were no indications that
+the fog was clearing, but his service with Samuel Boyd had made him
+familiar with the neighbourhood, and he threaded his way towards
+Catchpole Square without much difficulty. He had not met a soul on the
+road; the streets were quite deserted. "A man could almost fancy," he
+thought, "that he was walking through the vaults of death." In Shore
+Street--the backs of the houses in which faced the fronts of the
+houses in Catchpole Square--he stumbled against a human being who
+caught him by the arm.
+
+"Who are you when you're at home?" demanded the man. "Here--let's have
+a look at you. I've had a large dose of shadders to-night; it's a
+relief to get hold of bone and muscle."
+
+He pulled out his bull's-eye lamp and held it up to Dick's face, who
+laughingly said, "Well, what do you make of my face? You're cleverer
+than I am, Applebee, if you can distinguish features on such a night
+as this."
+
+"Why, if it ain't Mr. Dick Remington!" cried Constable Applebee. "Beg
+your pardon, sir, but I've been that put out to-night that I can't be
+sure of anything. If anybody was to say to me, 'Applebee, that head on
+your shoulders don't belong to you,' I'd half believe him, I would
+indeed, sir. What with shadders that wouldn't give you a civil answer
+when you spoke to 'em, and that you could walk right through, and
+taking hold of flesh and blood that slipped through your fingers
+like a ghost, to say nothing of the fog, which is a pretty large
+order--well, if all that ain't enough to worry a night policeman, I'd
+like to know what is."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XIII.
+
+                   A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.
+
+
+"Worry enough, in all conscience," said Dick, "and you've got a level
+head, too, if any member of the force has. You're the last man I
+should have expected to be scared by shadows."
+
+"Not what you might call scared," replied Constable Applebee,
+unwilling to admit as much to a layman; "put out, sir, put out--that's
+the right word. A man may be put out in so many ways. His wife may put
+him out--and she often does--an underdone chop may put him out--a
+fractious child may put him out--likewise buttons. It's what we're
+born to."
+
+"Well, say put out," said Dick with a hearty laugh. "And by shadows,
+too, of all things in the world! Still, one might be excused on such a
+night as this. The mist floats, shadows rise, and there you are. All
+sorts of fancies crept into my head as I walked along, and if I'd been
+employed on duty as monotonous as yours I have no doubt I should have
+heard sounds and seen shapes that have no existence."
+
+"You talk like a book, sir."
+
+"What was the nature of the flesh and blood that slipped through your
+fingers like a ghost, Applebee?"
+
+"Human nature, sir. I'll take my oath it was a woman. I had her by the
+arm, and presto! she was gone!"
+
+"A woman," said Dick, thinking of Mrs. Death. "Did she have a child
+with her, a poor little mite with a churchyard cough?"
+
+"I don't call to mind a child. It was in Catchpole Square it happened.
+I shall report it."
+
+"Of course you will," said Dick, convinced that it was Mrs. Death, but
+wondering why she should have been so anxious to escape. "Talking of
+Catchpole Square, have you seen anything this last day or two of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Haven't set eyes on him for a week past. To make sure, now--is it a
+week? No, it was Friday night that I saw him last. I can fix the time
+because a carriage pulled up at Deadman's Court, and a lady got out.
+She went through the court, followed by the footman."
+
+"Did she stop long, do you know?"
+
+"Couldn't have stopped very long. I hung about a bit, and when I come
+round again the carriage was driving away. All sorts of people deal
+with Samuel Boyd, poor and rich, high and low. That house of his could
+tell tales."
+
+"So could most houses, Applebee."
+
+"True enough, sir. There's no city in the world so full of mystery as
+London. We're a strange lot, sir. I read in a book once that every
+house contains a skeleton. The human mind, sir," said Constable
+Applebee, philosophically, "the human mind is a box, and no one but
+the man who owns that mind knows what is shut up in it."
+
+It was a pregnant opening for discussion, but Dick did not pursue it.
+He returned to the subject that was engrossing his thoughts.
+
+"Samuel Boyd kept a clerk,----"
+
+"And I pity the poor devil," interjected the constable.
+
+"So do I. The name of his last clerk is Abel Death. You've noticed
+him, I dare say."
+
+"Oh, yes, I've noticed him. A weedy sort of chap--looks as it he had
+all the cares of the world on his shoulders. I didn't know his name,
+though. Abel Death! If it was mine, I'd change it."
+
+"Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Let me think, now. It was Friday night when I saw him last. I noticed
+him particularly, because he staggered a bit, walked zig-zag like, as
+if he'd had a glass too much. That was what I thought at first, but I
+altered my opinion when I caught sight of his face. It wasn't so much
+like a man who'd been drinking, but like one who was fairly demented.
+Any special reason for asking about him, sir?"
+
+"No special reason," replied Dick, not feeling himself justified in
+revealing what had passed in the police station, "You would call Mr.
+Death a respectable person, I suppose?"
+
+"When there's nothing against a man," said Constable Applebee, "you're
+bound in common fairness to call him respectable. From the little I
+know of him I should say, poor, _but_ respectable. If we come to that,
+there's plenty of poor devils in the same boat."
+
+"Too many, Applebee. I can't help thinking of that woman you caught by
+the arm. It was a curious little adventure."
+
+"It was, sir, and I don't know that I was ever more nonplussed.
+There's nothing curious in her being in Catchpole Square. She might
+have slipped in there to sleep the night out, not having money enough
+to pay for a bed. Pond and me happened to meet on the boundary of our
+beats, and we strolled into the Square. I could have swore that she
+was creeping along the wall; perhaps she was scared at the sight of
+us, and had a reason for not wanting to fall in the hands of the law."
+
+"That will hardly hold water," said Dick. "She could have had no
+clearer a sight of you than you had of her. There have been too many
+bad deeds committed in dark places in the dead of the night, and
+seeing something moving that she couldn't account for, she was
+frightened and ran away. Did you call out to her?"
+
+"I did. 'Now, then,' I cried, 'what are you up to?' Not a word did she
+answer. Then I caught hold of her; then she vanished. Which goes to
+prove," said Constable Applebee, contemplatively, "that she wasn't one
+of the regular ones. If she'd been a regular one she'd have cheeked
+us. Not being a regular one, what business did she have there? Anyway
+Catchpole Square ain't exactly the place _I_ would choose for a
+night's lodging."
+
+"Beggars can't be choosers," remarked Dick.
+
+"Right you are, sir. They can't."
+
+The conversation slackened, and the men walked slowly along Shore
+Street, the constable, like a zealous officer, trying the doors and
+looking up at the windows.
+
+"The people inside," he said, "are better off than we are. They're
+snugly tucked up between the sheets, dreaming of pleasanter things
+than tramping a thick fog."
+
+"There's somebody there," said Dick, pointing to a first floor
+window, where, through the mist, a light could be dimly seen,
+"who isn't between the sheets. See how the light shifts, like a
+will-o'-the-wisp."
+
+"That's Dr. Pye's house, where the midnight oil is always burning.
+Yes, he's awake, the doctor; it's my belief he never sleeps. A clever
+gentleman, Dr. Pye, as chockful of science as an egg is of meat. Do
+you happen to be acquainted with him, sir?"
+
+"No."
+
+"A strange character, sir. The things they tell of him is beyond
+belief. I've heard say that he's discovered the secret of prolonging
+life, and of making an old man young."
+
+"But you haven't heard that he has ever done it."
+
+"No, or I might have asked him what his charge was for taking ten or
+twenty years off. Perhaps it's as well, though, to fight shy of that
+sort of thing. What they say of Dr. Pye may be true, or it mayn't, but
+you may make sure that he's always at his experiments. Pass his house
+at any hour of the night you like, and you may depend upon seeing that
+light burning in his window."
+
+"Those are the men who make the wonderful discoveries we hear of from
+time to time. Think of what the world was and what it is. How did
+people do without reading? How did people do without gas? How did they
+do without steam? How did they do without electricity? That little
+light burning in Dr. Pye's window may mean greater wonders than ever
+was found in Aladdin's cave. As Shakespeare says, Applebee, 'What a
+piece of work is man!'"
+
+"Ah," observed Constable Applebee, with a profound shake of his head,
+"he might well say that, sir."
+
+"Putting a supposititious case," said Dick, and as Constable Applebee
+remarked to his wife next day when he gave her an account of this
+conversation, "the way he went on and the words he used fairly
+flabbergasted me"--"Putting a supposititious case, let us suppose that
+you and I fell asleep as we are standing here, and woke up in fifty
+years, what astounding things we should see!"
+
+"It won't bear thinking of, sir."
+
+"Then we won't think of it. Applebee, I am surprised that you have not
+asked me why I am wandering through the streets on such a night and at
+such an hour, when _I_ ought to be snug in bed, dreaming of--angels."
+
+"Who am I, sir, that I should be putting a parcel of questions to
+you?"
+
+"You exhibit a delicacy for which you deserve great credit. I will
+make a clean breast of it, Applebee. The fact is, I am looking for a
+lodging."
+
+"You always _was_ a bit of a wag, sir," said Constable Applebee, with
+twinkling eyes.
+
+"Was I? But I assure you I am not wagging now. Do you know of a room
+to let in a decent house in the neighbourhood, where they would give
+their young man lodger a latchkey?"
+
+"Now, _are_ you serious, sir?"
+
+"As a judge."
+
+"Well, then, there's Constable Pond, sir. He's taken a house in
+Paradise Row, and there's a room to let in it; he mentioned it to me
+only to-night. If you're really in earnest he'd jump at you."
+
+"From which metaphor," said Dick, with mock seriousness, "I judge that
+he would consider me an eminently fit person to be entrusted with a
+latchkey."
+
+"That's the ticket, sir," said Constable Applebee, bursting with
+laughter. "Upon _my_ word, you're the merriest gentleman I've ever
+known. It's as good as a play, it is."
+
+"Better than many I've seen, I hope," said Dick, still with his mock
+serious air, which confirmed Constable Applebee in his belief that the
+young fellow was having a joke with him. "Am I mistaken in supposing
+that there is a Mrs. Pond?"
+
+"To be sure there is, and as nice a woman as ever breathed. No family
+at present, but my missis tells me"--here he dropped his voice, as
+though he were communicating a secret of a sacred nature--"that Mrs.
+Pond has expectations."
+
+"May they be realised in a happy hour! I'll pay a visit to the Ponds
+to-morrow, and if the room is not snapped up in the meantime by
+another person you will hear of me as their young man lodger. Good
+night, Applebee."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Constable Applebee looked after him till he was swallowed up in the
+prevailing gloom, and then resumed his duties.
+
+"What a chap that is!" he ruminated. "You can't mention a subject he
+ain't up in. That notion of his of falling asleep and waking up in
+fifty years ain't half a bad one. He does put ideas into a man's head.
+It's an education to talk to him."
+
+Dick did not hesitate as to his route. Turning the corner of Shore
+Street he walked to Deadman's Court, and through it into Catchpole
+Square, where he paused before the house of Samuel Boyd.
+
+"No midnight oil burning there," he mused, his eyes searching the
+windows for some sign of life. "The place is as still as death itself.
+I'll try Mrs. Death's dodge. If Mr. Boyd comes down I'll ask him if he
+has a room to let."
+
+He smiled at the notion, and applied himself to the knocker. But
+though he knocked, and knocked vigorously again and again, and threw
+stones at the upper panes of glass, and listened at the door, he heard
+no movement within the house.
+
+"There's a mystery inside these walls," said Dick, "and I'll pluck out
+its heart, or know the reason why. But how to obtain an entrance? The
+adjoining houses are empty. Is there a door loose in one of them?"
+
+There was no door loose; even if there had been, Dick, upon
+reflection, did not see how it would have been of assistance to him.
+There was a dead wall at the back of the house.
+
+"That way, perhaps," said Dick.
+
+He left the Square, and groped in the direction of the dead wall. It
+was about ten feet in height--a smooth expanse of cement, with not a
+foothold in it by which he could mount to the top. A rope with a
+grapnel at the end would meet the case, and Dick determined to procure
+one, and pay another visit to the place the following night.
+
+He lingered in the neighbourhood, sitting down on a doorstep now and
+again, and closing his eyes for a few minutes' doze. During these
+intervals of insensibility the strangest fancies presented themselves.
+He was with Mrs. Death and Gracie in the police station, listening to
+the story she had told, which now was exaggerated and distorted in a
+thousand different ways. "My husband, my husband!" she moaned "What
+shall I do without him? What will the children do without him?" The
+police station was instantly crowded with a great number of ragged
+little elfs, who, with misery in their faces, wailed, "What shall we
+do without him? What shall we do without him?" And then, in the midst
+of a sudden silence, Gracie's hoarse voice, saying, "You _will_ find
+father, won't you?" An appeal immediately taken up by the horde of
+children, "You _will_ find father, won't you? You _will_ find father!
+You _will_ find father!" The vision faded, and he saw Abel Death
+staggering through a deserted street in which only one sickly yellow
+light was burning. He was talking to himself, and his face was
+convulsed with passion. Behind him slunk the figure of Samuel
+Boyd--and behind him, Mr. Reginald and Florence. Good God! What
+brought _them_ into the tragic mystery? What possible or impossible
+part had _they_ played in it? The torture of the dreamer's mind was
+momentarily arrested by the ringing out of one dread word, clear and
+shrill as from the mouth of a clarion!
+
+"MURDER!"
+
+Dick started to his feet, his forehead bathed in perspiration. Had the
+word really been uttered, and by whom? He stood in the midst of
+silence and darkness.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV.
+
+             THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND
+                    PICKED UP IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+
+"The Little Busy Bee" was an afternoon newspaper with a great
+circulation, which took for its motto the familiar lines:--
+
+
+              "How doth the Little Busy Bee
+                 Improve each shining hour,
+               And gather honey all the day
+                 From ev'ry opening flow'r."
+
+
+To this journal Dick had been an occasional contributor, and he was
+responsible for a paragraph which appeared in its columns on the day
+following Mrs. Death's visit to the police station:
+
+"BISHOP STREET POLICE COURT.--A respectable woman, in great distress
+of mind, accompanied by her little daughter, begged permission to make
+a statement to the magistrate. It appears that her husband, Mr. Abel
+Death, residing at 7, Draper's Mews, and employed as a clerk in the
+office of Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, quite suddenly received
+his discharge last Friday night, and came home greatly distressed by
+the dismissal, as well as by pecuniary difficulties and by sickness in
+his family. Later in the night, at about ten o'clock, he went out,
+with the intention, as he stated, of making an appeal to his employer
+to reinstate him. He did not return home, and from that night his wife
+has heard nothing of him. Mrs. Death has been several times to
+Catchpole Square, in the hope of obtaining some information from Mr.
+Boyd, but as her knocking at the door has met with no response the
+presumption is that that gentleman is out of town. The magistrate said
+he was sure the press would give publicity to her husband's
+disappearance, and there was no doubt, if the paragraphs in the papers
+came to Mr. Boyd's notice, that he would write and tell her what he
+knows of the movements of his late clerk. Compassion was aroused by
+the evident ill health of the child, who appears to be suffering from
+bronchial trouble, and whose efforts to restrain herself from
+coughing, in order that the court should not be disturbed, were very
+pitiable. The magistrate awarded the poor woman ten shillings from the
+poor box, and she left the court in the deepest distress, her little
+girl clinging to her gown."
+
+Dick was surprised not to see his uncle in court. Inspector Robson had
+promised to be present, and it was seldom that he broke a promise.
+Ascribing his absence to official duties elsewhere, Dick parted with
+Mrs. Death at the police court door, and promising to call and see her
+next day, he wrote his paragraph for "The Little Busy Bee," and
+leaving it at the office, went to Paradise Row to secure the room
+which Mrs. Pond had to let.
+
+It was that little woman's washing day, and, like the maid in the
+nursery rhyme, she was hanging up clothes in her back yard. Hearing
+the knock she hurried to the door, with her sleeves tucked up to her
+shoulder, and wiping her hands on a towel. She wore an apron with a
+bib, and tucked in the bib was the lady's handkerchief which Constable
+Pond had picked up the previous night. She had been about to plunge it
+into the washtub when she heard the knock, and she had hastily slipped
+it in there as she hurried to the door.
+
+"Constable Applebee tells me you have a room to let," said Dick.
+
+"Yes, we have, sir," replied Mrs. Pond, her rosy face, which was of
+the apple-dumpling order, glowing with delight, "and very good it is
+of him to recommend us. I hope you won't mind the state I'm in. I'm
+doing the washing." She said this very simply; there was no false
+pride about Mrs. Pond.
+
+"I shall ask you to do mine," said Dick, "if the room suits me."
+
+"I shouldn't mind, sir. I'll show you the room if you'll be good
+enough to follow me."
+
+She preceded him up the narrow flight of stairs, and opened the door.
+It was a small room, but it was clean and tidy, and sufficiently
+furnished for Dick's requirements.
+
+"The rent?" asked Dick.
+
+"Would three-and-six a week be too much, sir?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Not a bit," replied Dick, "if you'll give me a latchkey."
+
+"We can do that, sir. Pond had an extra one made on purpose. 'If it's
+a gentleman,' he said, 'let him have it. If it's a lady she can't have
+a latchkey, no, not if she begged for it on her bended knees.'"
+
+"I'll take the room, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, with a genial smile, "and
+I'll give you a week's rent in advance, if it's only for the
+confidence you place in me."
+
+Nervously plucking at her bib as she received the money, she displaced
+the handkerchief, which fluttered to the ground. Dick stooped to pick
+it up, and his face grew white as he saw, written in marking ink in a
+corner, the name of "Florence." He recognised Florence's writing; at
+that moment he had one at his breast, bearing the same inscription.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XV.
+
+          DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.
+
+
+"Dear me, sir!" said Mrs. Pond, who had noticed that he had turned
+pale. "Are you taken ill?"
+
+"It is nothing, nothing," replied Dick, hurriedly, and contradicted
+himself by adding, "It must be the perfume on this handkerchief. There
+are perfumes that make me feel faint."
+
+"I don't think there's any scent on it, sir," said Mrs. Pond,
+"leastways, I didn't notice any. Some scents do have that effect upon
+people. There's a cousin of mine who faints dead away at the smell of
+a hot boiled egg. There's no accounting for things, is there, sir?"
+
+"No, there's not. May I ask if you got this handkerchief from the lady
+whose name is marked on it?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. Pond gave it me."
+
+"Did _he_ obtain it from the lady?"
+
+"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Pond. "That's just what I said to him. We had
+a regular scene. 'You're jealous, Polly,' he said, laughing, and he
+worked me up so that I as good as threw it in the fire. Then he told
+me that he knew no more about the lady than I did, and that he picked
+it up in the street."
+
+"Whereabouts, Mrs. Pond?"
+
+"He didn't say, sir. It's pretty, ain't it? Quite a lady's. I
+shouldn't have minded if he'd picked up a dozen of 'em. I've got an
+aunt who is always picking up things. It commenced when she was a
+little girl. She found a farthing that had been sanded over, and
+thinking it was a golden sovereign she went into a milk-shop and asked
+for change. She cried her eyes out when they told her what it was,
+There's hardly a week she don't find something. Some people are made
+that way, sir."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Dick, rather impatiently, "is your husband in the
+house? I should like to see him."
+
+"I expect him home every minute, sir. Why, there he is, opening the
+street door just as we're talking of him. If you'll excuse me, sir,
+I'll run down to him."
+
+"Do. And ask him to be kind enough to come up and speak to me."
+
+She nodded, and ran from the room with a light step, leaving the
+handkerchief behind her in her haste to tell her husband that she had
+got a lodger; and presently Constable Pond's heavier step was heard on
+the stairs. His face beamed with satisfaction when Dick, stepping into
+the passage, invited him into the room.
+
+"Can I believe my eyes, sir!" he exclaimed. "This is what I call a
+downright piece of good luck. Well, I _am_ glad to see you here, sir!"
+His eyes fell upon the handkerchief in Dick's hand. "If I don't
+mistake, that's the handkerchief my missis left behind her. She asked
+me to fetch it down to her."
+
+"It is about this handkerchief I wish to speak to you," said Dick;
+"and for the sake of all parties, Constable Pond, it is as well that
+our conversation should be private and confidential."
+
+"Certainly, sir," said Constable Pond, his countenance falling at the
+unusual gravity of Dick's voice and manner.
+
+"She told me you picked it up in the street."
+
+"She told you true, sir."
+
+Now did Constable Pond feel the sting of conscience; now did it
+whisper that he had been guilty of a breach of duty in not depositing
+the handkerchief at the police station, with an account of how he came
+by it; now did the thought of certain penalties afflict him. Here was
+Dick Remington, Inspector Robson's own nephew, opening up a case with
+the unuttered words, "From information received."
+
+"I have a particular reason for wishing to know where, and when, and
+under what circumstances, you found it," said Dick.
+
+"It won't go beyond this room, I hope, sir. You won't use the
+information against me?"
+
+"I give you my word I will not."
+
+"I ought to have handed it in and made my report," said Constable
+Pond, with a rueful air, "but I didn't think there was any harm in my
+giving it to the missis. Applebee and me were in Catchpole Square last
+night, and he was talking of shadders when he thought he saw one. He
+run across and caught hold of it, but it slipped from him and was gone
+like a flash. He called to me and we ran after it through Deadman's
+Court; we couldn't see which way we were going, so we knocked our
+heads together, and my helmet fell off. I stooped to pick it up, and
+there was the handkerchief underneath it. If I had considered a moment
+I shouldn't have put it in my pocket, but we don't always do the thing
+we ought."
+
+"You did not tell Applebee that you had found anything?"
+
+"No, sir, I did not, and sorry enough I am for it now. It sha'n't
+occur again, I promise you."
+
+"As the matter has gone so far without anybody knowing anything about
+it but ourselves, I don't see the necessity of mentioning it to
+anyone."
+
+"If such is your wish, sir," said Constable Pond, gaining confidence,
+"it sha'n't be."
+
+"And tell your wife not to speak about it."
+
+"I'll tell her, sir."
+
+"Because you see, Mr. Pond, as it is too late to undo what's done, it
+might get you into trouble."
+
+"I see that, sir," said Constable Pond, ruefully.
+
+"So there's an end of the matter. As for the handkerchief I'll take
+possession of it, and if it should happen that any question is raised
+concerning it--of which there is not the least probability--I will say
+that _I_ found it. That will clear you entirely."
+
+"I'm ever so much obliged to you for getting me out of the mess," said
+Constable Pond.
+
+Shaking hands with him, Dick accompanied him downstairs, and after
+receiving the latchkey and exchanging a few pleasant words with Mrs.
+Pond, he left the house greatly troubled in his mind.
+
+"There's more in this than meets the eye, Polly," said Constable Pond,
+when he had explained to her what had passed between him and Dick.
+"That young fellow spoke fair and square, but he's got something up
+his sleeve, for all that."
+
+"Oh, you silly!" answered Mrs. Pond. "_I_ know what he's got up his
+sleeve."
+
+"Do you, now?" said Constable Pond, refreshing himself with a kiss.
+"Well, if that don't beat everything! Give it a name, old girl."
+
+"Why, a sweetheart, you goose, and her name's Florence. He's going
+straight to her this minute."
+
+"Is he? Then I hope she'll be able to satisfy him why she was in
+Catchpole Square last night--always supposing that it was her as
+dropped the handkerchief there."
+
+Mrs. Pond was not far wrong, for Dick was now on his way to Aunt Rob's
+house, in the hope of seeing Florence, over whom some trouble seemed
+to be hanging. He tried in vain to rid himself of the belief that it
+was Florence whom Constable Applebee had surprised in Catchpole
+Square; all the probabilities pointed that way. In heaven's name what
+took her there at that hour of the night? Search his mind as he might,
+he could find no answer to the question. The handkerchief was hers,
+but there were a hundred ways of accounting for its being in the
+possession of another woman. Still, the longer he thought the heavier
+seemed to grow the weight of circumstantial evidence. Fearing he knew
+not what he accelerated his steps, as if swiftness of motion would
+ward off the mysterious danger which threatened the woman he adored,
+the woman who could never be his, but for whose dear sake he would
+have shed his heart's blood.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI.
+
+                        LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.
+
+
+Aunt Rob, a healthy, homely woman of forty-five, was standing at the
+door of her house, looking up and down the street for the form of one
+she loved, looking up to heaven for a message to ease her bruised
+heart. A terrible blow had fallen upon her home, and the grief, the
+fear, the tortured love in her eyes, were pitiable to see. Before Dick
+was near enough to observe these signs of distress she had caught
+sight of him and was running towards him, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks.
+
+"Oh, Dick, Dick!" she cried. "You have come to tell us about Florence!
+Where is she? What message has she sent? Is she safe, is she well? Why
+don't you speak? Can't you see that I'm heartbroken, heartbroken? For
+God's sake, speak!"
+
+In truth he could not. The overwhelming terror and surprise that fell
+upon him deprived him for a time of the power of speech; he could do
+nothing but stare at her in dismay and alarm. When speech was restored
+to him he said, in a voice as agitated as her own.
+
+"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Rob. I have brought no message from
+Florence. I came to see her." Involuntarily his hand wandered to his
+breast, where Florence's handkerchief lay.
+
+"You are deceiving me," she said, her limbs trembling, her face
+convulsed; "you are punishing me because I said it was time you looked
+after yourself! Perhaps I was as unhappy as you were when you left the
+house. If you had been a little more patient with me you would never
+have gone away." She turned from him, her body shaking with grief.
+
+"Dear Aunt Rob," he said, passing his arm around her, "indeed, indeed
+there is no thought in my mind that is not charged with love for you
+and Uncle Rob and Florence. I would lay down my life for you. I see
+that something terrible has occurred. What is it--where is Florence?
+But, no, don't answer me in the street. Come inside--come, come!"
+
+His heart beat fast and loud as he led the sobbing woman into the
+house.
+
+"Don't shut the door, Dick," she sobbed. "It shall never be said that
+I shut my door against my child. Day and night it shall be open to her
+if she comes back as she went away, a good and innocent girl. But if
+she comes back with the loss of her good name---- Oh, my God! What am
+I saying--what am I saying?"
+
+"Ah," said Dick, in a tone of stern reproof, "what are you saying,
+indeed, Aunt Rob, when you couple Florence's name with thoughts like
+those? You, her mother, who have had daily proofs of her purity and
+goodness! My life upon her innocence--my life, my life! Though all the
+world were against her I would stand by her side, and strike down
+those who dared defame her. For shame, Aunt Rob, for shame!"
+
+"Oh, Dick, you comfort me--you comfort me!" She took his hand, and
+kissed it, and he bent forward and kissed her lips. "I would not have
+said it, but I am torn this way and that with doubt and despair. It's
+the suspense, Dick, the suspense! Oh, Florence, Florence, the best,
+the sweetest, the dearest! Where are you, my dear, where are you?"
+
+"Attend to me, Aunt Rob," said Dick, holding himself in control in
+order that he might the better control her. "You must not go on like
+this--you must calm yourself--for Florence's sake, for your own and
+Uncle Rob's. If I am to be of any assistance--and I am here for that
+purpose, heart and hand--I must know what has happened. Try and be
+calm and strong, as you have always been, and we shall be able to work
+our way through this trouble--yes, we shall. That's right--dry your
+eyes"----
+
+"I have been unkind to you, Dick," she said, with an imploring look at
+him.
+
+"You have never been unkind--to me or to anyone. It isn't in your
+nature. Whatever happens to me I've brought upon myself and I'm going
+to reform and become a pattern to all young fellows who want to be
+Good (with a capital G, please, Aunt Rob) and don't exactly know how
+to set about it."
+
+"You'd put heart in a stone, Dick," said Aunt Rob, checking her sobs.
+"Let me be a minute, and I shall be all right."
+
+The room in which they were conversing looked out upon the street, and
+turning his back upon his aunt while she was battling with her grief,
+he peered this way and that, as she had done, and listened for the
+sound of a familiar footstep in the passage. He raised up a picture of
+Florence running suddenly in, laughing, with her hair tumbling over
+her shoulders, as he had often seen it, and throwing her arms round
+her mother's neck, crying, "Why, what is all this fuss about? Can't a
+girl go out for a walk without turning the house upside down? Oh, you
+foolish people!" And then throwing her arms round _his_ neck in her
+sisterly way, and asking, in pretended anger, what he meant by looking
+as serious as if the world was coming to an end? He could almost hear
+her voice. The room was filled with little mementoes of her, dumb
+memorials with a living spirit in them. There was a framed picture of
+her on the wall, a lovely face, bright and open, brown eyes in which
+dwelt the spirit of truth, dark brown hair with a wilful tendency to
+tumble down and kiss the fair neck--(the most distracting, teasing,
+bewitching hair; in short, Florence's hair)--smiling mouth in which
+there was innocent gaiety, but no sign of weakness; the typical face
+of a young girl of an ingenuous, trustful nature. A close observer
+would have detected in it an underlying earnestness, indicating
+tenacity and firmness of purpose where those qualities were required,
+and would have judged her one who would go straight to her duty and
+brave the consequences, whatever they might be. Gazing at that
+embodiment of happy, healthy springtime Dick said inly, "Florence do
+anything that is not sweet, and pure, and womanly! I would not believe
+it if an angel from heaven came down and told me!"
+
+Aunt Rob turned to him, calmer and more composed. "Tears have done me
+good, Dick," she said. "It would ease a man's heart if he could cry as
+we can."
+
+"We feel as much, Aunt Rob," he replied.
+
+"I don't doubt it, Dick. Uncle Rob went away with dry eyes in a state
+of distraction; he is flying everywhere in search of Florence."
+
+"She has gone?" His voice was strange in his ears. Prepared as he was
+for the news it came as a shock upon him.
+
+"She has gone," said Aunt Rob, covering her face with her hands.
+
+"Don't give way again, aunt. Pull yourself together, and tell me all."
+
+"I will, Dick, as much as I know. You haven't been in the house for a
+fortnight, or you would have noticed that Florence was changed. She
+seldom smiled, she neither played nor sang, her step had lost its
+lightness. She wouldn't let me do anything for her, and I settled it
+in my mind that it was a lover's quarrel. I _must_ speak about Mr.
+Reginald, Dick."
+
+"Yes, aunt, go on."
+
+"We had seen for some time that they were fond of each other. There
+was no regular engagement; it hadn't come to that, but we were young
+ourselves once, and we knew the ways of young people. So we made Mr.
+Reginald welcome, and we saw how happy Florence was to have him with
+us. It was on the tip of my tongue more than once to ask him to tell
+us more about himself than we knew, but Uncle Rob stopped me. 'All in
+good time,' he said, 'a few months, or even a year or two, won't make
+much difference. I'm not in a hurry to get rid of Florence.' More was
+I, but I was beginning to wish that things were settled, whether it
+was to be a long engagement or a short one. There was a change in Mr.
+Reginald, too, I couldn't tell in what way, but there it was in his
+face. He came and dined with us Sunday week, and since then I haven't
+set eyes on him. You know what last night was--the most dreadful fog
+we have had for years. It was at about five o'clock that I saw
+Florence with her hat and mantle on. 'Why, child,' I said to her, 'you
+are never going out in this thick fog!' 'Yes, I am, mother,' she
+answered. 'Don't fear that I shall be lost; I'll soon be back.' She
+was as good as her word, for she was home again before Uncle Rob went
+to the Station, and the three of us had tea together. She helped him
+on with his coat, and I recollected afterwards how she kissed and
+clung to him when he wished her good night. It was in her mind then to
+run away. At eight o'clock there was a knock at the street door, and
+Florence ran out to answer it. She often did so when she expected a
+letter from Mr. Reginald. She kept in the passage a little while and I
+heard the rustling of paper, but she had nothing in her hand when she
+returned to the room. Her face was very white, and she said she had a
+headache, and would go to bed early. I asked her if she had received a
+letter, and she answered, yes, she had, and said, 'Don't ask me any
+questions about it, please, mother.' 'Do answer me only one,' I
+begged. 'Have you and Mr. Reginald quarrelled?' 'Oh, no,' she
+answered, and I knew she was speaking the truth, or she wouldn't have
+answered at all. She was very gentle and quiet, and I thought to
+myself, 'Oh, my dear, my dear, why don't you confide in your mother
+who loves the ground you tread on?' But _you_ know what Florence is,
+Dick. She takes after me in a good many ways. Nothing will make me
+speak if I make up my mind not to, and it's the same with her. See,
+now, how we put our own faults into our children. So we sat at the
+fireside, and I felt as if there was a wall between us. She had some
+sewing in her lap, but not a stitch did she do. There she sat, staring
+into the fire. Ah, I thought, if I could see what you see I should
+know! Suddenly she knelt down and laid her head in my lap, and it was
+as much as I could do to keep back my tears. I could have cried
+easily, but I knew that my dear was in trouble, and that my crying
+would make it worse. Presently she raised her head and said, 'Mother,
+you love father very much.' 'With all my heart, darling,' I answered.
+'And you have always loved him,' she said again, 'and would have
+endured anything for him?' My heart fell as I said that I had always
+loved him, and would do anything in the world for him. She was quiet a
+few minutes, and then she said, 'You mustn't think I have done
+anything wrong, mother.' 'I don't, my dear child, I don't,' I said.
+'It is only,' she said, 'that sometimes we are pulling two ways at
+once.' Then she rose, and sitting by my side, laid her head upon my
+breast. I was nursing my baby again, and would you believe it? I sang
+an old nursery song and kissed and kissed her, and smoothed her
+beautiful hair, and we sat so for quite half an hour almost in
+silence. It was striking nine when she said she would go to bed, and
+as I didn't feel inclined to sit up alone I went to bed, too. We have
+been to bed much earlier, Dick, since you went away. Soon after nine
+all the lights were out and the house was quiet. In the middle of the
+night I woke and went to her room, and called softly, 'Florence!
+Florence!' She didn't answer me, and I was glad to think she was
+asleep. She always keeps her bedroom door locked, or I would have gone
+in. I get up earlier than she does, and I was down before eight; and
+there on the mantelshelf was an envelope addressed, 'For Mother,' in
+Florence's handwriting. There was a key inside, and my heart beat so
+that I thought it would jump out of my body as I flew upstairs and
+opened the door with it. Florence was not in the room, and her bed had
+not been slept in. But on the dressing table, was another envelope
+addressed to me. I tore it open, and this is what I found inside."
+
+She handed a sheet of notepaper to Dick, and he read:
+
+
+"Darling Mother and Father,--I have gone away for a little while
+because it is my duty to go. Do not be uneasy or unhappy about me. I
+am quite safe, and very soon--as soon as ever I can--I will let you
+know where I am, and what it is that took me away. It grieves me
+sorely to give you a moment's pain, but I am doing what I believe is
+right. With a heart full of love for you both, my dear, dear Mother
+and Father,
+
+         "Your Ever Loving and Devoted Daughter,
+
+                                       "Florence."
+
+
+"What do you make of it, Dick?" asked Aunt Rob, her fingers twining
+convulsively.
+
+"I make so much good out of it," he replied, handing the letter back
+to her, "that I wonder at your going on in the way you've done. She
+says she is quite safe, and will let you know soon what took her away.
+What more do you want to convince you that before long the mystery
+will be cleared up? Upon my word, I've a good mind to be downright
+angry with you."
+
+He spoke with so much confidence that she brightened up, but this
+cheerful view of Florence's flight from home was not the genuine
+outcome of his thoughts. Had he not disguised his feelings in his
+desire to comfort Aunt Rob, he would have struck terror to her heart.
+Every incident that presented itself deepened the shadows which
+threatened Florence's safety and the peace and happiness of the home
+of which she was the pride and joy. The latest discovery, that of her
+flight, pointed almost to the certainty of her having been in
+Catchpole Square last night, and to her having dropped the
+handkerchief which Constable Pond had given to his wife. Thankful
+indeed, was Dick that the man had been guilty of a breach of duty. Had
+he delivered up the handkerchief at the Bishop Street Police Station,
+with an account of how he came by it, Florence's father would have
+recognised it as belonging to his daughter, and he would have had an
+agonising duty before him. Perplexed and bewildered as Dick was by
+these developments he succeeded in concealing his anxiety from Aunt
+Rob's observation.
+
+"Have you any idea, Dick, what she means when she speaks of her duty?"
+she asked.
+
+"None whatever," he replied. "Can you give me Mr. Reginald's address?"
+
+"No. I never heard where he lived, and never asked him. He has written
+Florence a good many letters, and now and then she has read me a bit
+out of them, but she never gave me one to read outright myself. She
+has left her desk behind her. Would I be justified in breaking it
+open?"
+
+"No, you would not. It would be showing a sad want of confidence in
+her. At what time do you expect uncle home?"
+
+"I can't say with certainty. He may come in at any minute, or he
+mightn't come home till late. He's hunting high and low for Florence,
+and there's no knowing where he may be. He's got leave for a day's
+absence from the office. You're not going, Dick?" For Dick had put on
+his hat, and was buttoning up his coat.
+
+"I must. I've a lot of business to attend to, and I've an idea of a
+clue which may lead to something."
+
+"You'll be back as soon as you can, won't you? Your room is all
+ready."
+
+"I know. Uncle Rob told me. But I can't come back to-night."
+
+"Oh, Dick, haven't you forgiven me for the hard words I said to you?
+Don't harbour animosity, lad, don't! My temper got the better of
+me----"
+
+"My dear Aunt Rob," said Dick, interrupting her, "no son could love a
+mother more than I love you. If I were base enough to harbour
+animosity towards you or yours I shouldn't deserve to live. There's
+the postman's knock!"
+
+They both ran out for the letter. "It's from Florence--from
+Florence!" cried Aunt Rob.
+
+
+"My Darling Mother and Father" (Florence wrote)--"I am writing a
+hurried line to relieve your anxiety, only to let you know that I am
+safe and well, and that I will write again to-morrow. When you know
+all I am sure you will forgive me. Never forget, dear Mother, what I
+said to you last night, that I have done nothing wrong. God bless you
+both. With my dearest, fondest love,
+
+         "Ever your faithful and affectionate daughter,
+
+                                              "Florence."
+
+
+"If you see Dick, give him my love, and tell him all."
+
+"That ought to satisfy you, Aunt Rob," said Dick. "She is safe, she is
+well. My love to Uncle Rob."
+
+He kissed her, waved his hand, and was gone.
+
+The fog had entirely disappeared, and the contrast between the weather
+of yesterday and that of to-day struck him as no less marked than the
+contrast between himself of yesterday and himself of to-day. Yesterday
+he was one of the idlest of young fellows, lounging about with his
+hands in his pockets, with no work to do, and no prospect of any.
+To-day the hours were not long enough for the work he had to perform.
+As there are sluggish horses which need but the whip to make them go
+like steam, so there are men who cannot work without a strong
+incentive. Dick was of this order, and the incentive which had
+presented itself was in its nature so stirring as to bring into play
+all his mental and physical resources. Thus spurred on, you might have
+searched London through without meeting his match.
+
+The immediate object he had in view was to gain an entrance into the
+house of Samuel Boyd, and this must be done to-night. Whatever
+discoveries he made there, or if he made none, the ground would to
+some extent be cleared. To accomplish his purpose he required a rope,
+with a grapnel at the end of it, strong enough to bear a man's weight.
+His funds were low. Of the sovereign Uncle Rob had given him, 3s. 6d.
+had gone for a week's rent, and 2s. for food; he had 14s. 6d. left.
+Knowing that there was a chance of picking up in some second-hand shop
+a rope and grapnel for half the money which they would cost new, he
+turned down the meanest streets, where humble dealers strove to eke
+out a living. He passed a wardrobe shop in which male and female
+attire of the lowest kind was exposed for sale; a rag and bone shop,
+stuffed with articles fit for the dunghill, and over the door of which
+an Aunt Sally in a perpetual slate of strangulation was spinning round
+and round to the tune of a March wind; a fried fish shop through the
+window of which he saw a frowzy, perspiring woman frying penny pieces
+(heads), three halfpenny pieces (tails), and two penny pieces
+(middles); more wardrobe shops, more fried fish shops, more rag and
+bone shops, with black dolls spinning and strangling. In one of these
+he chanced upon the very thing he needed, and after a heated
+discussion with a dirty-faced old man in list slippers and a greasy
+skull cap, he issued from the fetid air within to the scarcely less
+fetid air without, with the rope and grapnel wrapped in the torn copy
+of an evening paper.
+
+Congratulating himself on his purchase he hurried along, and
+finding himself no farther than half a mile from Draper's Mews, he
+determined--having an hour or two to spare--to go to No. 7, where poor
+little Gracie and her mother resided, for the purpose of ascertaining
+whether anything had been discovered relating to the disappearance of
+Abel Death.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVII.
+
+                       THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.
+
+
+Had Dick timed his visit to Draper's Mews a couple of hours earlier he
+would have had a second instance in one day of female hands at the
+wash-tub--in this case not a wash-tub but a cracked and leaky basin,
+from the sides of which the soapy water dripped upon a very thin pair
+of female legs. In the second instance it would not have been a woman
+whom he would have seen, but a child--none other than little Gracie,
+who, with all the importance of budding washerwoman thick upon her
+(although, humanly speaking, her prospects of arriving at that stage
+of distinction appeared to be remote) was washing her brothers' and
+sisters' clothes. The garments were few and in woeful condition, the
+brothers and sisters were many, more or less in a state of nudity.
+There were Eddie, nine years of age, Bertie, eight, Nellie, six,
+Connie, five, Louie, three, Geordie, eighteen months. Six children,
+who, with Gracie, the eldest, comprised the young shoots of the
+genealogical tree belonging to the family of the Deaths. Their home
+comprised two small rooms, with holes in the wall that divided them.
+
+All the children, with the exception of Gracie, were in bed, huddling
+together for warmth, and waiting for the drying of their clothes,
+which Gracie hung upon a line stretching from wall to wall, after
+wringing them out. The youngsters were not unhappy; the ten shillings
+from the poor box which the benevolent magistrate had given to Mrs.
+Death dropped upon her like manna from heaven. On their way home she
+and Gracie had spent fifteen pence, and the children had had a full
+meal. What cause for unhappiness when their little stomachs were
+filled? That is the test stone. Think of it, comfortable ones of the
+earth. Fifteen pence to make seven children happy!
+
+Gracie alone recognised what was meant by the disappearance of their
+father, the breadwinner, their father with his anxious face and
+threadbare clothes. The other children could not understand. It was
+merciful. Father had gone away; he would come back again with a little
+paper bag of brandy balls for them to suck. Abel Death was fond of his
+children, and once a week he gave them this treat. How they looked
+forward to it--how they watched for his coming--how their faces would
+light up when he pulled the bag out of his pocket! Brandy balls are an
+economical sweet; there is a magic in the very name. Brandy balls!
+They are hard, not to say stony, and if they are sucked fair they last
+a long time. Eddie once bolted one whole. He never forgot it; the
+taste of the physic he was made to swallow, the shaking and the
+slapping, made him very repentant; but he thought of it ever
+afterwards with a fearful joy, as of one who had performed a rash and
+daring deed, and came out of it alive. Sometimes the children were in
+rivalry as to which brandy ball would last the longest. Sad to relate,
+the exultation of the victor made the others cry. The way of
+conquerors is always watered with tears.
+
+On this afternoon Gracie was the mistress of the house. Mrs. Death had
+heard of a half day's washing-up of plates and dishes at a German club
+in the neighbourhood where a festival was being held; and she dared
+not neglect the opportunity of earning ninepence. She left careful
+instructions that if father _should_ happen to come back during her
+absence Gracie was to run like lightning to the club and fetch her
+home. She had no hope of it, but she had read of miracles in the
+Bible.
+
+So the child stood at the wash-tub, soaping poor little petticoats and
+stockings with zeal and diligence, holding each garment up to the
+light and criticising its condition with the eye of an expert. Now and
+then she shook her head, as though in answer to a question whether
+this or that tattered article of clothing could be mended; and, the
+point being settled, plunged it into the wash-tub again for an extra
+soaping to make up for tatters. And the marvellous patience with which
+she pursued her task, the absence of anything in the shape of
+rebellion or protest that she, so young in years, should be set to it!
+If ever suffering mortal deserved a medal for duty done in the teeth
+of adverse circumstance, against odds so terrible that the coldest
+heart must have been moved to pity to witness it, Gracie surely had
+earned it. But there is no established order on earth for the bestowal
+of honours in such a cause. Crosses and broad ribbons and sparkling
+stars are for deeds far different from the devoted heroism she
+displayed. But a record is kept in Heaven, Gracie, and angels are
+looking down upon you. How astonished would she have been to know it!
+She suffered--ah, how she suffered! Every few minutes she was
+compelled to stop and fight the demon in her chest that scraped and
+scraped her brittle bones with fiendish cruelty--tearing at her,
+choking her, robbing her of breath, while she stamped her feet and
+beat her hands together.
+
+"Oh, I say! Gracie's going it," observed Bertie, the low comedian and
+mimic of the family, and as is the case with better known low
+comedians when they give utterance to nothing particularly witty, the
+young audience began to laugh.
+
+"Show us, Bertie," they cried. "Do it!"
+
+Whereupon, with his own vocal organs, Bertie reproduced Gracie's
+racking cough. The other children attempted the imitation, but none
+with success, and he accompanied the cough, moreover, with such an
+expression of woe upon his face, that the children were lost in
+admiration. Spurred to greater efforts by their approval he wound up
+with so faithful a reproduction of Gracie in the last exhausting stage
+of a paroxysm that it brought down the house.
+
+"Is that like it, Gracie?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she answered, with unmoved face, "that's like it."
+
+One of the children, burning with envy at her brother's histrionic
+triumph, expressed her feelings with her legs.
+
+"Connie's kicking me, Gracie," cried Bertie, at the same time
+returning the kicks beneath the bedclothes.
+
+"If you don't leave off," said Gracie, impassively, "I'll come and
+slap you."
+
+She had to be very careful with the children's underclothing. So full
+of holes and rents were they that the least violence would have
+wrought irremediable havoc among them--and where was mother to get the
+money from to buy new ones?
+
+"There," she said, hanging the last garment on the line, and wiping
+her hands and arms on her wet apron, "that job's done."
+
+The children raised a cheer, and simultaneously sat up in bed in a
+state of eager expectation. Six little heads nestling close, six eager
+faces turned towards Gracie. They had not a clear view of her, because
+night was coming on.
+
+"Wait a bit," she said, "we must have a light, and I must make up the
+fire."
+
+It was a very small fire, the capacity of the stove being
+circumscribed by a large brick on either side, placed there for the
+sake of economy. Gracie put on half a dozen little pieces of coal with
+miser-like care, taking as much pains to arrange them as if they were
+precious stones, as indeed they were. A tiny flame shot out and shone
+upon her face; with her black eyes and black hair she looked like a
+goblin beneath this fitful illumination. Then she rose and lighted a
+tallow candle, placing it on a deal table, which she drew close to the
+bed. The table was bare of covering, and presented a bald white space,
+Gracie having given it a good scrubbing before she commenced her
+washing. Seating herself on a wooden chair she took from a drawer some
+broken ends of chalk of different colours, yellow, green, and
+vermilion being the predominant hues. The excitement of the children
+grew to fever height.
+
+Gracie had a gift which comes by nature. She was magnetic, and could
+tell a story in such a manner as to absorb the attention of her
+hearers. It is true that she only told stories to her brothers and
+sisters, who might have been considered a partial audience, but that
+she was capable of taking their imaginations captive and leading them
+in any direction she pleased--through gilded hall or dismal dungeon,
+through enchanted forest or dark morass--may be accepted as a token
+that, grown to womanhood and appealing to a more experienced audience,
+her success would be no less complete. To look at that apparently
+insensible face and at that coal black eye, unillumined by the fire of
+fancy, and to listen to that listless voice when she discoursed upon
+mundane affairs, no one would have imagined that it was in her power
+to rivet the attention, to fascinate and absorb. It is, however, just
+those faces which go towards the making of a great actor. A blank
+space waiting to be written upon, ready for the kindling of the spark
+which unlocks the gates of imagination and lays all the world of fancy
+open to the view. Then do merry elves peep out from beds of flowers,
+and fairy forms dance in the light of moon and stars; then do
+enchanted castles gleam in the eye of the sun, and gloomy caverns open
+wide their jaws and breathe destruction on all who venture within
+their shadowed walls.
+
+Many such romances had Gracie told the children, with appropriate
+pictorial illustration in colours, but she came down to earth
+occasionally, and condescended to use materials more modern; but even
+these familiar subjects were decorated with flowers of quaint fancy
+and invested by her with captivating charm. Sometimes she mingled the
+two together, and produced the oddest effects.
+
+The secret of the coloured chalks was this. Not long ago there lived
+in the house an artist who strove to earn a living by painting on the
+pavements of the city the impossible salmon and the equally impossible
+sunset. But though he used the most lurid colours he did not find
+himself appreciated, and, taking a liking to Gracie, he poured into
+her ears tales of disappointed ambition and unrecognised genius, to
+which she listened with sympathetic soul. Emulous of his gifts she
+coaxed him into giving her a few lessons, and in a short time could
+also paint the impossible salmon and the equally impossible sunset.
+One day he said, "Gracie, I am leaving this wretched country, which is
+not a country for artists. I bequeath to you my genius and my stock of
+coloured chalks. But do not deceive yourself; they will bring you only
+disappointment, and do not blame me if you die unhonoured, and unwept,
+and unsung." With these despairing words he bade her an affectionate,
+if gloomy, farewell. Gracie did not share his despair, and had little
+understanding of the words in which it was expressed. The legacy was a
+God-send to her and to the children whom she would enthral with her
+flights of imagination, with coloured illustrations on the deal table.
+
+She related to them now some weird tale of a beautiful young
+princess--(behold the beautiful young princess, with vermilion lips
+and cheeks, green eyes starting out of her head, and yellow hair
+trailing to her heels)--and a gallant young prince--(behold the
+gallant young prince, with vermilion lips and cheeks, staring green
+eyes, and yellow hair carefully parted in the middle)--mounted on a
+fiery steed--(behold the fiery steed, its legs very wide apart, also
+with green eyes, vermilion nostrils, and a long yellow tail)--who,
+with certain wicked personages, went through astounding adventures,
+which doubtless would all have come right in the end had Gracie not
+been seized with a fit of coughing so violent that she fell back in
+her chair, spasmodically catching and fighting for her breath.
+
+Two persons mounted the stairs at this crisis, a man and a woman, and
+both hastened their steps at these sounds of distress. Mrs. Death
+flung the door open and hastened to Gracie's side not noticing Dick,
+who followed her.
+
+"My dear child--my dear child!" said Mrs. Death, taking her clammy
+hand and holding the exhausted girl in her motherly arms.
+
+"I'm all right, mother," gasped Gracie, presently, regaining her
+breath. "Don't you worry about me. There--I'm better already!" She was
+the first to see Dick, and she started up. "Mother--look! The
+gentleman from the police station! Have you found father, sir?"
+
+"I beg your pardon for intruding," said Dick to the woman. "I came to
+speak to you, and when I was wondering which part of the house you
+lived in I heard your little girl coughing, and I followed you
+upstairs." He gazed in amazement at the astonishing pictures on the
+table. "Did Gracie draw these?"
+
+Six little heads popped up from the bed, and six young voices piped,
+"Yes, she did. Ain't she clever? And she was telling us such a
+beautiful story!"
+
+"Be quiet, children," said Mrs. Death; and turning anxiously to Dick,
+"Have you any news of my husband, sir?"
+
+"I am sorry to say I have not," he replied; "but your visit to the
+magistrate is in the papers, and good is sure to come of it. Have you
+got a teaspoon?"
+
+With a pitying remembrance of Gracie's cough he had purchased a bottle
+of syrup of squills, a teaspoonful of which he administered to the
+child, who looked up into his face with gratitude in her soul if not
+in her eyes.
+
+"It's nice and warm," she said, rubbing her chest. "It goes right to
+the spot."
+
+"Let her take it from time to time," said Dick to Mrs. Death. "I will
+bring another bottle in a day or two. Now can I have a few words with
+you about your husband?"
+
+"Yes, sir, if you'll step into the next room."
+
+"I like brandy balls," cried Connie.
+
+"So do I--so do I!" in a clamour of voices from the other children.
+
+"And so do I," said Dick. "You shall have some."
+
+"Hush, children!" said Mrs. Death. "I'm ashamed of you! I hope you'll
+excuse them, sir. Keep them quiet, Gracie, while the gentleman and I
+are talking. It doesn't do, sir,"--this in a low tone to Dick as he
+followed her into the adjoining room--"to speak too freely before
+children about trouble. It will come quickly enough to them, poor
+things!"
+
+Dick nodded. "I wish you to believe, Mrs. Death, that I earnestly
+desire to help you out of your trouble, and that I may be of more
+assistance to you than most people. I say this to satisfy you that I
+am not here out of mere idle curiosity."
+
+"I am sure you are not, sir, and I'm ever so much obliged to you for
+the kindness you've shown. The syrup of squills has done Gracie a lot
+of good already; but I don't see how you can help us."
+
+"It may be in my power, if you will give me your confidence."
+
+"I'd be sorry to throw away a chance, sir. What is it you want to
+know?"
+
+"I want you to tell me the reason why Mr. Samuel Boyd discharged your
+husband."
+
+"There's not much to tell, sir. Where shall I commence?"
+
+"On Friday morning, when your husband went to the office: and don't
+keep anything back that comes to your mind."
+
+"I won't, sir. He went away as usual, and it was our belief that he
+had given Mr. Boyd every satisfaction. I told you at the police
+station how we had hopes that Mr. Boyd would lend us a few pounds to
+get us out of our difficulty with the moneylender. I'm afraid every
+minute of the home being sold over our heads. We've only got a few
+bits of sticks, but we shouldn't know what to do without them. Mr.
+Boyd's a hard master, sir, and regularly every Saturday, when he paid
+my husband his wages, he grumbled that he was being robbed. My poor
+husband worked for him like a slave, and over and over again was kept
+in the office till ten and eleven o'clock at night without getting a
+sixpence overtime. It wasn't a bed of roses, I tell you that, sir;
+nothing but finding fault from morning to night, and he was always on
+the watch to catch my husband in some neglect of duty. On Friday
+afternoon, when he went out of the house on some business or other,
+his orders to my husband were that he was not to stir out of the
+office; if people knocked at the street door let them knock; he wasn't
+to answer them, but to keep himself shut up in the office. Those were
+the orders given, and my husband was careful to obey them. Two or
+three hours after Mr. Boyd was gone there came a knock at the street
+door, and my husband took no notice. The knock was repeated two or
+three times, but still he took no notice. Presently he heard a step on
+the stairs, and he thought it was Mr. Boyd come back, and who had
+knocked at the door to try him. It wasn't Mr. Boyd, sir. The gentleman
+who came into the room was Mr. Reginald."
+
+Taken by surprise at this unexpected piece of information, Dick cried,
+"Mr. Reginald!"
+
+"Mr. Boyd's son, sir. He and his father had a quarrel a long while
+ago, and Mr. Boyd turned him out of the house."
+
+"But if the street door was not opened to Mr. Reginald, how did he get
+in?"
+
+"He had a latchkey, which he told my husband he had taken with him
+when his father turned him off."
+
+A light seemed to be breaking upon Dick; all this was new to him. "At
+what time did you say Mr. Reginald entered his father's house?"
+
+"It must have been about six o'clock. When he heard that his father
+was not at home he said he would wait; but my husband begged him not
+to, and asked him to go away. He seemed so bent upon seeing his
+father--he used the word 'must,' my husband told me--that it was hard
+to persuade him, but at last he consented, and said he would call
+again at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be alone."
+
+The light grew stronger, and it was only by an effort that Dick was
+able to suppress his agitation. He recalled the conversation he had
+had with his uncle the previous night at the police station, and the
+remark that towards the elucidation of the mystery there were many
+doors open. Here was another door which seemed to furnish a pregnant
+clue, and it terrified him to think that it might lead to a discovery
+in which all hopes of Florence's happiness would be destroyed.
+
+"Yes," he said, "at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be
+alone."
+
+"Then my husband, remembering the caution given him by Mr. Boyd that
+nobody was to be allowed to enter the house during his absence, asked
+the young gentleman not to mention to his father that he had already
+paid one visit to the house. You see, sir, my husband feared that he
+would be blamed for it, and be turned away, as the other clerks had
+been, for Mr. Boyd is of that suspicious nature that he doesn't
+believe a word any man says. The young gentleman gave the promise and
+went away."
+
+"Did Mr. Reginald say why he wanted to see his father?"
+
+"Not directly, sir; but my husband gathered that the young gentleman
+had come down in the world, and was in need of money."
+
+"Ah! Go on, please."
+
+"When Mr. Boyd came back he asked if any one had called; my husband
+answered no. 'Then no person has been in the house while I was away?'
+he said, and my husband said no person had been there. Upon that my
+husband was surprised by his being asked to put his office slippers on
+the table, and was still more surprised to see Mr. Boyd examining the
+soles through a magnifying glass. Oh, but he is a cunning gentleman is
+Mr. Samuel Boyd! And when the examination was over he gave my poor
+husband his discharge, without a single word of warning. My husband
+was dumbfounded, and asked what he was being sent away in that manner
+for. Then the hardhearted gentleman said he had set a trap for him;
+that before he left the house he had put on the stairs eight little
+pieces of paper with bits of wax on the top of them, so that any one
+treading on them would be sure to take them up on the soles of his
+boots; and that when he came back six of the eight pieces were gone.
+It was an artful trick, wasn't it, sir? My poor husband did then what
+he ought to have done at first; he confessed the truth, that Mr.
+Reginald _had_ been there. When Mr. Boyd heard that his son had been
+in the house he got into a fearful rage, and said that Mr. Reginald
+and my husband were in a conspiracy to rob him, which, of course, my
+husband denied. He begged Mr. Boyd to take back the discharge, but he
+would not listen to him, and the end of it was that he came home
+brokenhearted. You see our home, sir; wasn't the prospect of not being
+able to earn bread for us enough to break any man's heart?"
+
+"Indeed it was," said Dick. "And that is all you can tell me?"
+
+"It is all I know, sir."
+
+"I think you said last night that it was about half-past nine when Mr.
+Death went to Catchpole Square the second time."
+
+"As near as I can remember, sir."
+
+"Within half an hour," he thought, "of Mr. Reginald's second visit."
+"Thank you, Mrs. Death," he said; "you may depend upon my doing my
+best to clear things up, and you shall soon hear from me again. I may
+call upon you without ceremony."
+
+"You will be always welcome, sir, but it's a poor place for you to
+come to."
+
+"I don't live in a palace myself," he said, with an attempt at gaiety.
+Taking his rope and grapnel, still wrapped in the evening paper, he
+held out his hand to wish her good-night (with the kind thought in his
+mind of sending a doctor to Gracie), when a man's voice was heard in
+the passage, inquiring in a gentle voice whether Mrs. Death lived
+there.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+               DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.
+
+
+They went out together to ascertain who it was, and the man repeated
+his question, and observed that it was very dark there.
+
+"I'll get a light, sir," said Mrs. Death in an agitated tone. "I hope
+you haven't brought me bad news."
+
+"No," the man answered, "good news I trust you will find it. I have
+come to attend to your little girl, who, I hear, has a bad attack of
+bronchitis."
+
+"Are you a doctor, sir?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I am a doctor," he answered. "Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"It's very good of you, sir, and Gracie is suffering awfully, but I am
+afraid there is some mistake. I didn't send for you."
+
+"Now why did you not send for me," he said, in a tone of gentle
+banter. "In the first place, because you don't know where I live.
+In the second place, because you can't afford to pay me; but that
+will not matter. Why should it? Dear, dear, dear! What is money?
+Dross--nothing more. Never mind the light; I can see very well--very
+well."
+
+They were now in the room where the children were, who, sitting up in
+bed, stared open-mouthed at the gentleman with his glossy silk hat and
+his yellow kid gloves, and his double gold watchchain hanging across
+his waistcoat. He was a portly gentleman, and when he took off his hat
+he exhibited a bald head, with a yellow fringe of hair round it, like
+a halo. His face was fleshy and of mild expression, his eyes rather
+small and sleepy, and there was, in those features and in his general
+appearance, an air of benevolent prosperity.
+
+"Pictures," he said, looking at the coloured drawings on the table.
+"Most interesting. And the artist?"
+
+"My little girl, sir," said Mrs. Death, looking anxiously at him; "she
+does it to amuse the children."
+
+"Remarkably clever," he said. "_Re_-markably clever. Dear, dear, dear!
+A budding genius--quite a bud-ding ge-nius. But time presses. Allow me
+to explain."
+
+"Won't you take a chair, sir?" said Mrs. Death, wiping one with her
+apron, and placing it for him.
+
+"Thank you. The explanation is as follows--as follows. A friend of
+mine reading in the evening papers an account of your application at
+the Bishop Street Police Court this morning--pray accept my sympathy,
+my dear madam, my sym-pathy--and of the evident illness of the little
+girl who accompanied you, has asked me to call and see if I can do
+anything for you--anything for you." His habit of repeating his words,
+and of occasionally splitting them into accented syllables, seemed to
+fit in with his gentle voice and his generally benevolent air.
+
+"May I inquire the name of your kind friend?" asked Mrs. Death.
+
+"Certainly--cer-tainly," replied Dr. Vinsen. "It is Dr. Pye, of Shore
+Street."
+
+"The scientist," said Dick.
+
+"The scientist," said Dr. Vinsen. "A man of science and a man of
+heart. The two things are not incompatible--not incom-patible. He
+asked me also to ascertain whether you have heard anything of your
+husband."
+
+"I have heard nothing of him, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sob in her
+throat.
+
+"Sad, sad, sad! But have hope, my dear madam. There is a special
+providence in the fall of a sparrow, and you may depend upon it that
+this special providence is watching over you, and will bring your
+husband back--your husband back." He turned to Dick. "Related to the
+family, I presume?"
+
+"No," said Dick, "I am here simply as a friend, to assist Mrs. Death
+in her search for her husband."
+
+"A very worthy endeavour. Would it be considered impertinent if I
+inquired the name of the gentleman who evinces so deep an interest in
+this very distressing matter?"
+
+"My name is Dick Remington. I've grown so accustomed to Dick that I
+should hardly know myself as Richard."
+
+Dr. Vinsen's eyes gave faint indications of amusement--eyes so sleepy
+could do no more than that--and he passed his hands over and over each
+other, as though, like Miss Kilmansegg's father, he was washing them
+with invisible soap in imperceptible water. At this point Gracie, who
+had been trying with all her might and main to hold herself in, burst
+into a furious fit of coughing. "Dear, dear, dear!" said Dr. Vinsen.
+"Let us see what we can do for you, my child."
+
+Taking a stethoscope out of his hat he proceeded to make an
+examination of Gracie's lungs and chest, a proceeding which Gracie
+viewed with indifference and the other children with awe. In the
+course of his examination he made such comments, under his breath,
+as--
+
+"Dear, dear, dear! Nothing but skin and bone--but skin _and_ bone!
+Sad, very sad! Neglected another week the result would have been--but
+I will not distress you. Wrap yourself up, child. My dear madam, you
+must keep little Gracie--sweet name--in bed for a few days. Doubtless
+you have a bronchitis kettle."
+
+"No, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a forlorn look.
+
+"Don't you worry, mother," protested Gracie. "I don't want any
+kettles. What's the use of kettles? _I'm_ all right, I am."
+
+"No, my dear child," said Dr. Vinsen, "allow _me_ to know. You must
+have a linseed poultice on--your mother will see to it--and when I
+come again I will bring you some medicine. Permit me, Mrs. Death--a
+few words in private--a corner of the room will do."
+
+They withdrew into a corner, and Dick heard the chink of coin.
+
+"I will call to-morrow," said Dr. Vinsen, the private conference
+ended, "to see how we are getting on--how we are get-ting on. Nay, my
+dear madam--tears!--summon your fortitude, your strength of mind--but
+still, a gratifying tribute--a gra-ti-fy-ing tri-bute." Hat in hand,
+he shook hands with all in the room, a ceremony attended by
+considerable difficulty in consequence of the shyness of the children,
+but he would not let them off. "Dear, dear, dear! One, two, three,
+four, five, six, and our little Gracie makes seven--really, my dear
+madam, really! Good evening, Mr.--Mr.--dear me, my memory!"
+
+"Dick Remington," said Dick.
+
+"To be sure. Mr. Dick Remington. Good evening." Mrs. Death, candle in
+hand, waited to light him down. "So kind of you, but the passages
+_are_ rather dark." Those left in the darkened room heard his voice
+dying away in the words, "_Are_ ra-ther dark."
+
+When Mrs. Death re-entered the room, her face was flushed. Beckoning
+Dick aside she said in an excited tone, "He has given me two
+sovereigns. God bless him! It is like a light shining upon me. If only
+I could find my husband! Children, be good, and you shall have
+something nice for supper."
+
+"I'll run and get the linseed for you," said Dick, "while you put
+Gracie to bed."
+
+He was soon back, and Mrs. Death met him in the passage.
+
+"I can manage now, sir, thank you," she said, "but Gracie wants to wish
+you good night."
+
+Gracie coming to the door with an old blanket round her, he bent down
+and put his lips to her white face.
+
+"_That's_ what I wanted," she whispered, and kissed him. "You're a
+good sort, you are." He slipped a paper bag into her hand. "What's
+this for?"
+
+"Brandy balls for the young 'uns," he answered, and scudded away.
+
+"Oh, you _are_ a one!" she shouted hoarsely.
+
+"God bless you, Gracie!" he shouted back.
+
+"That's a windfall for Mrs. Death," he muttered when he was clear of
+Draper's Mews, "and may be the saving of Gracie. Dear little mite!
+Almost a skeleton, and the heart of a lion. Learn a lesson from her,
+Dick, and meet your own troubles like a man, and do your work, my lad,
+like one. It's brutal to be ungrateful, but still
+
+
+              "I do not like thee, Dr. Fell,
+               The reason why I cannot tell,
+               But this I know, and know full well,
+               I do not like thee, Dr. Fell."
+
+
+Now, who could Dick have been referring to as he repeated these lines
+with a thoughtful face? Certainly not to Dr. Fell. He was not
+acquainted with that gentleman.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX.
+
+           DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+                             OPERATIONS.
+
+
+The night was well on by this time, and though he did not intend to
+commence operations in Catchpole Square before midnight, there was
+plenty for him to do in the meantime. He made his way, therefore, with
+all expedition to his lodgings, fortifying himself on the road with a
+substantial meal at a cheap restaurant, and purchasing candles,
+matches, and half a pint of brandy. His spirits rose at the prospect
+of adventure; there is nothing like the uncertain to keep the blood at
+fever heat.
+
+Mrs. Applebee was keeping Mrs. Pond company when he put his latchkey
+in the street door. Mrs. Pond had told Mrs. Applebee of her good
+fortune in securing so eligible a lodger, and Mrs. Applebee had
+narrated the conversation which Dick and her husband had had on the
+previous night.
+
+"Applebee said he never did hear a young man go on so," said Mrs.
+Applebee. "All I hope is he won't give you any trouble."
+
+"What makes you say that?" inquired Mrs. Pond.
+
+"Well, my dear, it was a queer time for a young man to be looking for
+lodgings on a night like that, when he couldn't see a yard before
+him."
+
+"That was only his joke," responded Mrs. Pond; "he's as nice a
+gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I do believe that's him coming in
+now. I must give him a candle."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, taking the candlestick from
+her.
+
+"Can I do anything for you, sir?" she asked.
+
+"Well, yes. Perhaps you can oblige me with an empty bottle, a large
+one with a cork."
+
+She had one in the cupboard, and she brought it out to him.
+
+"It's had vinegar it, sir."
+
+"That won't matter. Many thanks."
+
+In the room above Dick set about his preparations for an invasion of
+Samuel Boyd's house. He made a careful examination of the rope and
+grapnel, and was satisfied that the rope would bear his weight and the
+grapnel catch on the top of the wall. Everything being ready, he
+waited for midnight, deeming it advisable not to go out till then, for
+there was no object in his roaming about the streets. He heard Mrs.
+Applebee bid Mrs. Pond good night, which was only preliminary to a
+long chat between the ladies, first in the passage, afterwards at the
+street door. Then he heard the door closed, and listened to hear if
+his landlady locked it. No sound of this reached his ears, and shortly
+afterwards all was silent in the house, Mrs. Pond having retired to
+rest. For a reason which he could not have explained he tumbled the
+bedclothes about, as if they had been slept in. He did not possess a
+watch, and he had to judge the time as well as he could. When he
+believed it to be near the hour he softly left the room, locked it,
+pocketed the key, and stepping like a cat, went downstairs and opened
+the street door. Hoping that it would not alarm Mrs. Pond he shut it
+as quietly as was possible, and, with the rope round his waistcoat and
+concealed by his coat, he turned his face in the direction of
+Catchpole Square. "I'm in for it now," he thought. "I feel like a
+burglar, out on his first job."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XX.
+
+                       DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+
+His familiarity with the regulations and movements of the police
+hailing from the Bishop Street Police Station was of assistance to
+him. He knew that one end of Constable Applebee's beat was close to
+Catchpole Square, and his design was to watch for that officer's
+approach, and to remain hidden till he turned in the opposite
+direction. This would ensure him freedom of action for some fifteen or
+twenty minutes, time sufficient to enable him to mount the wall. He
+experienced little difficulty in the execution of this design.
+Constable Applebee sauntered to the end of his beat, lingered a moment
+or two, and then began to retrace his steps. Dick now prepared for
+action. "I really think," he mused, "that I should shine as a
+burglar."
+
+There were few persons in the streets, and none in the thoroughfare on
+which the dead wall abutted. The first step to be taken was to
+ascertain if any person was in the house. He turned, therefore, into
+Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows. There was no light in
+them, and from the position in which he stood he could discern no
+signs of life within. No long neglected cemetery could have presented
+a more desolate appearance. He knocked at the door, and his summons,
+many times repeated, met with no response. Dick did all this in a
+leisurely manner, being prepared with an answer in case an explanation
+was demanded. So absolutely imperative was it that he should be
+convinced that the house was uninhabited before he forced an entrance
+that he kept in the Square fully a quarter of an hour, at the
+expiration of which he passed through Deadman's Court, and was once
+more in front of the dead wall. Stealing to each end of the
+thoroughfare to see that no person was in view, he unwound the rope
+from his body, and fixed upon the spot to fling the grapnel. The first
+throw was unsuccessful; and the second; but at the third the grapnel
+caught, and Dick pulled at it hard in order to be sure that it was
+fast. Then, moistening the palms of his hands, and muttering, "Now,
+then, old Jack and the beanstalk," he commenced to climb.
+
+It was not an easy task, partly in consequence of his inexperience at
+this kind of work, and partly because of the bulging of the large
+bottle of water under his waistcoat. But Dick was not to be beaten;
+not only were all the latent forces of his mind in full play, but all
+the latent forces of his body, and though his hands were chafed in the
+execution of the task, and the perspiration streamed down his face, he
+reached the top of the wall in safety, and with the bottle unbroken.
+
+"Bravo, Dick," he gasped, pausing to recover his breath. "Humpty
+Dumpty sat on a wall, I hope Humpty Dumpty won't have a bad fall. Take
+care of yourself, Dick, for my sake."
+
+Drawing up the rope he reversed the grapnel, fixed it tight, let the
+rope drop on the inner side of the wall, and slid nimbly down.
+
+He looked around. There were windows at the back, most of them masked
+with inside shutters, as they had been for years. To each of the six
+houses there was a back yard, and each yard was separated from its
+neighbour on either side by a wall as nigh as high as that which
+enclosed them all in the rear. Thus Dick found himself shut out from
+the world, as it were, with little likelihood of his movements being
+detected from any of the houses except the one he intended to break
+into--and that was as still and lifeless as death itself.
+
+"Now, my lad," he said, "just to put life into you, for this desert of
+Sahara is enough to give any man the blue devils, I'll treat you to a
+drink. Is it agreed to? Passed unanimously."
+
+Then came the difficult task of unhooking the grapnel, for it would
+never do to leave it on the wall. He made several futile attempts to
+loosen and bring it down, and had he not discovered in a corner a
+forked pole which at some remote period had probably been used as a
+clothes' prop, there would have been nothing for it but to leave it
+there and run the risk of discovery. With the aid of the pole,
+however, he succeeded in unhooking it, so suddenly that it fell to the
+ground with a crash and nearly gave him a crack on the head.
+
+Gathering up the rope and slinging it over his arm, Dick searched for
+a means of effecting an entrance into the house. From the evidences of
+decay all around he judged that no use had been made of the back of
+the premises for a considerable time past; during his service with
+Samuel Boyd he had had no acquaintance of the rooms which looked out
+upon the yard, his duties confining him to the office in which the
+secretarial work was done. Above a door, which he tried in vain to
+open, was a small window which seemed less secure than the others; and
+when he reached up to it (standing on a rickety bench against the
+wall), this proved to be the case; but though the frame rattled when
+he shook it he saw no means of getting out of the difficulty except by
+breaking a pane of glass. Half measures would not serve now, and he
+adopted this bold expedient, pausing to listen, when the shattered
+glass fell upon the floor within, whether the crash had raised an
+alarm. There was no indication of it.
+
+Passing his hand through the aperture he managed to unfasten the
+window and to raise the sash. Much more difficult was it to raise his
+body to the level of the window; he had no safe foothold, the rickety
+bench upon which he stood threatened every moment to fall to pieces,
+and indeed in his violent efforts this actually happened, and he was
+left clinging to the window-sill by his fingers and nails; by a
+desperate effort he got his knees upon the sill, and tumbled or
+scrambled into a small dark room. He could not now proceed without a
+light, and he congratulated himself again on his forethought in
+bringing candles and matches, for Dick was not a smoker, and these
+articles might easily have been overlooked.
+
+Having obtained a light he took a survey of the room. The walls were
+bare, and there was no furniture in it. Casting his eyes upon the
+floor he was horrified to see it stained with fresh red blood upon
+which he was treading. He was so startled that he involuntarily
+pressed his left hand upon his heart, and raised his right hand, in
+which he held the lighted candle, in anticipation of a sudden attack.
+Then he discovered that he had cut that hand, and that the blood on
+the floor was his own. In his excitement he had not felt the pain of
+the wound. Wrapping his handkerchief round it, and drawing a deep
+breath of relief, he opened a door at the end of the room, and emerged
+into a passage, with a staircase leading to the rooms above.
+Ascending, he passed through another door which shut off this
+staircase from the better parts of the house, and found himself on a
+landing with which he was familiar, for on this floor was situated the
+office in which he used to work, another staircase at the end of the
+landing leading down to the front entrance. He knew now where he was,
+and in which direction to proceed.
+
+All his movements had been made with extreme caution, and almost at
+every step he took he paused and prepared for a surprise. But he was
+not interrupted in any way, and there was nothing to indicate that he
+was not master of the situation. It troubled him to observe that his
+footsteps left traces of blood behind them; these dark stains conveyed
+a suggestion that he had been engaged in a guilty deed. "Do I look
+like a murderer?" he thought. "I feel like one."
+
+Before he entered the office he descended to the ground floor passage
+to ascertain if the street door was fast, and he was surprised to see
+the key lying on the mat. It was a sign of some significance, for had
+Samuel Boyd left his house for any length of time he would most
+certainly have locked the door from the outside and taken the key with
+him. But, assuming that this was not the case, why was not the key in
+the lock, and assuming, further, that Samuel Boyd had retired to rest,
+why was not the door bolted and chained?
+
+Confused by the thought, Dick turned the key in the lock, opened the
+door an inch or two, and looked out upon Catchpole Square. All was
+silent and still. Dark clouds were scudding across the sky, with a
+heavy-hearted presage in them; such was the impression the gloom of
+night produced upon Dick. He reclosed and locked the door, and
+returned to the passage above.
+
+When he turned the handle of the office door and entered the room in
+which he used to work he could hear the beating of his heart. In the
+dim light he could almost fancy that his skeleton was sitting on the
+old stool at the desk; but no being, human or spectral, with the
+exception of himself was there. Against the walls and in the corners
+lay the strange medley of articles which gave so singular a character
+to the apartment. There were no signs of confusion or disturbance;
+everything was in order. The drawers in desk and tables were closed,
+the safe in its old position, and to all appearance untampered with;
+beneath a paperweight of Japanese metal, representing a hideous mask,
+lay some papers which Dick did not stop to examine. Some of the
+articles in the collection had not been there during his term of
+service. The wine and the grand pianoforte were new to him. But who
+was that sitting in a chair, dressed in a flowered gaberdine?
+
+"I beg your pardon," stammered Dick.
+
+The figure did not answer him, and approaching nearer with stealthy
+steps he beheld the wax figure of the Chinaman, in an attitude of
+collapse, as it had fallen into the chair on the night of the 1st of
+March, when it was shot through the heart.
+
+"In heaven's name how came _you_ here?" muttered Dick. "Speak up like
+a man, in pigeon-English if you like."
+
+He could scarcely have been more amazed had the figure lifted its head
+and addressed him. A sense of tragedy weighed heavily upon his
+spirits, and the air seemed charged with significance and dreadful
+import. The occurrences of the last twenty-four hours: the
+disappearance of Abel Death, his wife's agonised appeal at the police
+station, Florence's flight from home, the discovery of her
+handkerchief in Catchpole Square, even--unreasonable as was the
+inclusion--the visit of Dr. Vinsen to the Death family--all seemed to
+converge to one point in this room, with its deathlike stillness, and
+to the strong probability of their explanation being found there. It
+partook more of a fancy from a madman's brain than that of a sane
+person, and yet Dick, candle in hand, peered in all directions for a
+clue to the elucidation of these mysteries. That he saw none did not
+weaken the impression under which he laboured. The dusky figures of
+knight and lady in the hangings of tapestry, the quaint carvings of
+man and beast on the mantel and fireplace, the paintings of flying
+angels on the ceiling, mocked and gibed at him whichever way he
+turned, and tended to increase the fever of his blood.
+
+There were three communicating doors in the apartment--one leading to
+the passage, one to Mr. Boyd's bedroom, one to a room which had always
+been kept locked. Against the wall between that room and the office
+the grand piano was placed, and Dick recollected that in his time a
+large screen had been there, covering the space now occupied by the
+back of the piano. Very cautiously and slowly he opened the door of
+the bedroom. Wrought to a pitch of intense excitement it was not
+surprising that his hand shook--to such an extent, indeed, had he lost
+control of himself that the candle dropped to the ground and was
+extinguished. He was plunged in darkness.
+
+In the brief glance he had directed to the bed he fancied he had seen
+the outline of a sleeping form, and as he knelt to search for the
+candle he called aloud, "Mr. Boyd!" and trembled at the sound of his
+voice. "Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!" he called again in louder tones, and his
+heated fancy created a muffled echo of the name, "Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!"
+Finding the candle he relighted it, and rising to his feet, slowly
+approached the bed.
+
+A dumb form was there, its back towards him. The bed was in the middle
+of the room, the head against the wall. Treading very gently he passed
+to the other side, and bending forward, with the candle in his
+upstretched hand, he saw a man's face--the face of Samuel Boyd, cold
+and dead!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                        THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.
+
+
+He reeled back in horror, but even in that one moment of discovery the
+necessity of preserving self-control forced itself upon him, and he
+became calm. The first real step in the mystery was taken, and all his
+powers of sober reason were needed to consider what would follow, and
+in what way the dread discovery would affect the beings he held most
+dear. Fortifying himself with a sip of brandy, and putting into a
+candlestick the candle he had held in his hand, he turned down the
+sheets to ascertain how the hard master he had served--the man in
+whose breast had dwelt no spark of compassion for any living
+creature--had met his death. There was no blood on the bedclothes, no
+stab or bullet in the dead man's body. On his face was an expression
+of suffering, as of one who had died in pain, and his neck was
+discoloured, as though a hand had tightly pressed it. But this might
+have been his own act in the agony of the death struggle, and his
+presence in his bed went far to prove that his end had been a natural
+one. A closer examination, however, dispelled this theory. The marks
+on his throat could scarcely have been made by himself, for his arms
+lay by his side in a natural position. Undoubtedly there had been
+violence done. By whom?
+
+The first person whose image came to Dick's mind was Abel Death. The
+image immediately suggested a train of circumstance which, in the heat
+of the moment, proclaimed the absent man guilty. Abel Death had made
+his appeal to Samuel Boyd, and had made it in vain. In a paroxysm of
+fury he had fallen upon his master, and had strangled him. Then,
+searching for money and finding it, he had fled from the house and
+taken passage in some outgoing vessel for a foreign land. Presuming
+that the murder had been committed on the night of the 1st of March
+there had been ample time to make his escape, but not sufficient time
+to communicate with his wife. Or, perhaps the man, overwhelmed by
+terror, was afraid to write.
+
+But upon further reflection this train of circumstance fell apart, and
+Dick perceived how false it was. It was hardly probable that Samuel
+Boyd had received Abel Death while he was abed, and still less
+probable that in his sleeping attire he would open his street door to
+such a visitor. By no other means than through the door could Abel
+Death have obtained access to the house. No, it was not he who had
+committed the crime. But the man was gone, and the mystery of his
+disappearance was still unexplained.
+
+But if Abel Death could have obtained access to the house only by
+permission of Samuel Boyd, there was another man who had no need to
+ask for it. That man was Mr. Reginald Boyd. He possessed a key to the
+street door, and could obtain admittance at any hour. At any hour? No.
+Not after Samuel Boyd had chained and bolted the door from within
+before he went to bed. What was the presumption? That Reginald had
+quietly entered before the door was fastened, and had secreted himself
+until his father had retired to rest. Easy to imagine what followed:
+his appearance in the bedroom when his father was half asleep, his
+demands for money, the stern refusal and the taunting exchange of
+angry words, the hot blood roused, the clutching his father by the
+throat, the murder committed, the disposal of the limbs to make it
+appear that he had died a natural death, the unbolting and unchaining
+of the street door, and, finally, the frantic flight. But how to
+account for the key being upon the mat? As Dick mentally asked this
+question his eyes fell upon a key hanging by a cord at the head of the
+bed. Was it Samuel Boyd's own private key to the street door? So much
+depended upon this that Dick hastened downstairs to settle the point.
+Yes, it was Samuel Boyd's key. And the second key which Dick had
+picked up? Dropped by Reginald in his frenzy as he flew out of the
+house.
+
+Dick's heart sank within him. This plausible chain of circumstance
+fitted the theory that Reginald was the murderer. Horrible! Most
+horrible! And Florence loved this guilty man. He it was who was
+responsible for her flight from her peaceful, happy home; he it was
+who, for some sinister reason, had imposed secrecy upon her! It seemed
+to Dick as if he held the fate of Florence's lover in his hands. He
+returned the second key to its place at the head of the bed, and
+mechanically--but yet in pursuance of some immature thought--put the
+key he had found on the mat into his pocket. Then he quitted the room
+of death, and closing the door, sank into a chair, and rested his head
+on his hand.
+
+How should he act? What clear line of action did his duty point out to
+him? His duty! What if in pursuance of this moral obligation he
+wrecked Florence's life, and brought upon her despair so poignant as
+to drive her to her grave? No, a thousand times, no! Anything but
+that.
+
+Why should it be incumbent upon him to proclaim the murder? Let others
+do it. But even then, would that save Reginald? The finger of
+suspicion would be pointed at him, and a clever lawyer would wind
+around him a chain of circumstantial evidence so firm and strong that
+it would be impossible for him to break through it. What were the
+links in this chain?
+
+The quarrel between father and son some time since, which ended in
+Reginald being turned out of the house, with the stern injunction
+never to enter it again. Proof would surely be discovered to establish
+this, and it would be vain for Reginald to deny it.
+
+Reginald's first visit to the house in Catchpole Square on the evening
+of the 1st of March. Abel Death had disappeared, but Mrs. Death was
+alive to testify to the fact. In this connection the pitiful image of
+little Gracie presented itself to Dick's mind, and he heard her
+plaintive appeal, "You _will_ find father, won't you?" He had been
+anxious to do this, but he recognised now that Abel Death's appearance
+in court might be fatal to Reginald.
+
+The next link was Reginald's second visit to Catchpole Square an hour
+or so before midnight, admitting himself to the house on that
+occasion, as on the first, with his own private latchkey. Who was to
+prove this? Remote as the Square was from public observation there was
+little doubt that Reginald had entered unseen. No witness existed,
+except Reginald himself, who could state what took place on this
+second visit, but it was a strong link in the chain that he had "come
+down in the world," and was in need for money.
+
+The murder being made public, Constables Pond and Applebee would be
+questioned as to whether they had observed any suspicious circumstance
+in the neighbourhood on the night of the 1st. Applebee would recall
+the visit to Samuel Boyd of a lady in her carriage. Who was the lady,
+and what was her business with him? This would be traced. Doubtless
+the lady herself would come forward. The constables would further
+recall the appearance of a woman lurking in Catchpole Square on the
+night of the 5th, her evident alarm on being challenged, and her
+escape from the clutches of Constable Applebee.
+
+Then came the question of the identity of the woman, in the answering
+of which Florence's handkerchief would furnish a clue. But if
+Constable Pond confessed how he had found and concealed the
+handkerchief it would, in all probability, lead to his dismissal from
+the force. It was therefore to his interest to say nothing about it.
+Dick had imposed silence upon him and his wife, and the chances were
+that secrecy would be preserved.
+
+He carried this point farther. It appeared certain that the murder was
+committed on the night of the 1st of March. Now, Florence's visit to
+Catchpole Square--assuming that it was she--was paid on the night of
+the 5th, five days after. What connection, then, could there be
+between this visit and the murder? He argued it out. She was in
+communication with Reginald; since his last visit to Aunt Rob's house,
+nearly a fortnight ago, letters had passed between them, and there was
+little doubt that, without the knowledge of her parents, she had seen
+and conversed with him. Fearful of venturing himself into the Square,
+had he sent her to ascertain whether there was any appearance of the
+house having been entered? That would imply her knowledge of the
+crime. Every pulse and nerve in Dick's body throbbed in revolt against
+the cruel suggestion.
+
+"No!" he cried aloud, starting to his feet. "No--no--no!"
+
+But earnest as he might be on behalf of Florence he could not deny
+that the evidence, circumstantial as it was, formed a serious
+indictment against Reginald. In the midst of his agitation he noticed
+that in his starting from his chair he had swept off the table the
+Japanese paperweight and the documents which had lain beneath it.
+Stooping to pick them up and put them in their original order he saw
+the name of Reginald on one of the sheets, in Samuel Boyd's writing,
+with which he was familiar. Re-seating himself he immediately
+proceeded to read what was written thereon:
+
+
+"_Memoranda for my guidance. March 1st, 9.30 p.m_."
+
+
+"I jot down certain memoranda respecting my unworthy son, Reginald
+Boyd, to assist my memory in my application to the police to-morrow
+morning. Things slip my mind sometimes. This shall not. To the police
+I go early in the morning. I do not consider myself safe. My son and
+my clerk, Abel Death, whom I discharged from my service this evening,
+are in a conspiracy to rob me, and I must take measures against them.
+
+"It is two years since I turned my son out of my house in consequence
+of his misconduct and disobedience. I forbade him ever to darken my
+door again, or ever to address me.
+
+"In defiance of this command he stole into the house this afternoon
+during my absence, and though Abel Death endeavoured to keep it from
+me, I forced the information from him that this scamp of a son of mine
+intends to come again late to-night.
+
+"Impress strongly upon the police that these men are conspiring to rob
+me. Reginald has in his possession a key to the street door. It is my
+property. He stole it from me. If he does not get in through the front
+door he will find some other way. He is better acquainted with the ins
+and outs of this house than I am myself. He is an ungrateful,
+worthless scoundrel. They are a pair of scoundrels.
+
+"To-morrow I will draw out my will. Reginald knows that it is not made
+yet. If I were to die to-night all that I possess would fall to him as
+heir at law, and I am determined he shall have not have a shilling of
+my money. Not a shilling. He is reckoning, I dare say, upon coming
+into a fortune. He will find out his mistake.
+
+"_Shall_ I see him? I should like to tell him to his face that he will
+be a beggar all his life, and to tell him, too, that I intend to put
+the police upon him.
+
+"Notation, 2647. S.B."
+
+
+The reading of this document filled Dick with consternation. It
+supplied, not one, but several new links in the chain of
+circumstantial evidence. Were it to fall into the hands of the police
+Reginald's doom would be sealed. There would be only one chance for
+him--his being able to prove that he had not visited his father's
+house on the night of March 1st. His bare word would not be
+sufficient; he must produce witnesses, to show how and where he passed
+his time on that night. Failing this, the evidence, in the murdered
+man's own handwriting, would be fatal.
+
+It could not be that the murder would remain much longer undiscovered.
+Mrs. Death's application to the magistrate and the publicity given to
+the disappearance of her husband, clerk to Samuel Boyd of Catchpole
+Square, in conjunction with the silence and non-appearance of Samuel
+Boyd himself, would be sure to direct attention to the house, not only
+on the part of the mystery-mongers who have a passion for such
+matters, but on the part of the general public. The probability was
+that in a very short time, perhaps in a few hours, all London would be
+ringing with this new mystery. He saw, in fancy, the show-bills of the
+newspapers, and heard the cries of the newsboys as they ran through
+the streets with successive editions.
+
+Again he had to consider his course of action, and he was not long
+undecided. He would be silent. It was not Reginald he was championing,
+it was Florence. Until he saw and spoke with her he would do all that
+lay in his power to divert suspicion from the man she loved. Animated
+by this resolve, and with a dogged disregard of consequences, he
+folded the incriminating document and put it in his pocket. He made no
+attempt to justify himself; at all hazards he was determined to
+protect Florence, and, right or wrong, he would do what he had
+determined to do. The knowledge he had gained he would keep locked in
+his breast. Let others make the discovery of the murder. He would not
+move a step towards it.
+
+All this time he had not given a thought to his own safety, to the
+peril in which he would be placed if his presence in the house of
+death became known. It was easy enough to devise a train of argument
+which would cast such suspicion upon himself as to cause most people
+to believe that he was the guilty man. Having no wish to court this
+danger he determined to leave the house as quickly as possible, and to
+postpone further reflection till the morning.
+
+A last look into the death-chamber, a swift glance at the awful form
+lying there, a hurried examination of the papers to see if there were
+any other incriminating documents among them--which to his relief
+there were not--a pause before the wax figure of the Chinaman and a
+weird fancy that it also had met its death at the hand of a murderer,
+the careful gathering together of all the articles he had brought with
+him into the house, and he was ready to go.
+
+He had a thought of leaving the house by the front door, but there was
+greater risk in that than in going back the way he had come; so he
+scrambled out of the window at the back, finding it much more
+difficult to scramble out than to scramble in, and was once more in
+the yard. He listened for sounds of voices or footsteps in the
+thoroughfare on the other side of the dead wall, and, hearing none,
+flung his grapnel up. It caught at the first throw, and climbing the
+rope he cautiously peeped over the wall to see if any wayfarers were
+about. No person was in sight. Detaching the grapnel he hung by his
+hands and dropped to the ground, thinking how foolish he had been in
+the first instance not to have adopted this means of reaching the
+inner ground. Tying the rope round his waist, and buttoning his coat
+over that and the large bottle, half the water in which he had drank
+during his investigations, he proceeded in the direction of his
+lodgings, nibbling a biscuit as he walked along.
+
+The faint light of early morn was in the sky. A new day was dawning,
+to bring joy to some, despair to some, to raise this toiler up, to
+dash this toiler down. No warning of these issues in the peaceful grey
+light of morn. Majestic nature rolls its allotted course heedless of
+the fret of life. The yellow gas in the street lamps had a ghastly
+glare; at the end of a street a cat with green eyes gleaming like evil
+jewels stood in the middle of the road, and scampered off at his
+approach. A wretched man who seemed to start out of the ground cried,
+"Hi!" and flung a stone after it, and then, with folded arms and head
+sunk low on his breast, slinked off with a scowl, as though he had
+struck at the world for its treatment of him; two or three blear-eyed
+human night-birds, shivering in the grey light which, in its promise
+of a fair day, brought no solace to them, slouched close to the walls
+and houses, and cast lowering glances upon Dick as he passed; a
+forlorn woman, who had better have been in her grave, said, "Good
+morning, my dear," in a voice so false and hollow in its horrible
+gaiety that he shuddered as he heard it, and hurried on. But he turned
+and threw the degraded creature a sixpence. In his state of mind all
+forms of misery appealed strongly to him.
+
+He reached Paradise Row in safety, and got into the house without
+disturbing his landlady. Locking the door of his room, he threw off
+his clothes and went to bed, deeming it wiser to seek three or four
+hours' rest in a natural way than to sleep with his clothes on. He was
+wearied and exhausted, but so excited that sleep did not come readily
+to him. Drowsily courting it he found himself dwelling upon the last
+words in the document he had stolen--there was no mincing the matter;
+he _had_ stolen it: "Notation 2647." What could be the meaning of
+those words? Notation 2647--notation 2647. He repeated it dozens of
+times, and dreamt that the wax figure of the Chinaman was pursuing him
+over mountain and field, through fire and water, shouting after him,
+"Notation 2647!" Youth and a healthy physique, however, triumphed over
+these disordered fancies, and after awhile he sank into a dreamless
+sleep, and arose, refreshed and full of vigour, at half past eight. He
+heard the snoring of Constable Pond, and the soft footsteps of Mrs.
+Pond outside his door. He stepped into the passage, and it was like
+the breath of spring to his senses to meet her smiling face.
+
+"Good morning, sir," she said. "I hope you slept well."
+
+"Capitally," he replied. "The bed is very comfortable. Did I disturb
+you at all last night?" He waited in anxiety for her answer.
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I'm asleep the minute I put my head on the pillow. Pond
+says I should be a blessing to burglars. Can I get you anything for
+breakfast?"
+
+"Nothing, thank you," he said. "I take my meals out."
+
+The next moment he was on his way to Aunt Rob. She was expecting his
+arrival, and ran to open the door for him.
+
+"I've been waiting for you, Dick. Have you had breakfast?"
+
+"Wouldn't stop for it, Aunt Rob," he answered, "I thought you would
+give me a bite."
+
+"It's ready laid for you, my dear. I had a letter from Florence this
+morning, and one has come for you."
+
+"From Florence?" he cried.
+
+"No, it's not her writing." She gave him both letters, and said that
+Uncle Rob had gone out early in the morning to seek for her. "We
+haven't had a wink of sleep all night," she said.
+
+He read Florence's letter first. It was to the same effect as her
+letters of yesterday. She was quite well and safe, and begged them not
+to be anxious about her. Her dear love to darling mother and father,
+and to Dick. She would write twice every day, and hoped with all her
+heart that everything would soon be all right.
+
+"It is a happiness to know that she is safe and well," said Dick. "We
+must have patience, Aunt Rob."
+
+"But what does she mean by her 'duty,' Dick?"
+
+"We shall hear that from her own lips by-and-by," he replied.
+
+"And isn't it strange," said the anxious mother, "that she doesn't
+say a word of Mr. Reginald?"
+
+"Yes, it _is_ strange." But in his heart he did not think so. He
+believed he knew why the name was not mentioned.
+
+"What is your letter about, Dick?"
+
+He opened it, read it hurriedly, and did not betray the agitation it
+caused him. "A private letter, aunt, from an old friend. Has Uncle Rob
+got another day's leave of absence from the office?"
+
+"No; he must go back to his duty to-night. He wanted to see you
+badly, but he couldn't stop at home, he's that restless. I wish you'd
+have a talk with him."
+
+"I'll manage it. If I don't catch him here, I'll drop in at the
+station."
+
+He was itching to read his letter more carefully, but he would not
+arouse her suspicions by running away too suddenly, so he remained
+with her a few minutes longer, and then, saying he would see her again
+in the course of the day, took his leave.
+
+"Are you going anywhere particular, Dick?" she asked, accompanying him
+to the door.
+
+"I am going to look for Florence," he replied, kissing her. "It will
+be hard if we don't soon get some good news. Keep up your heart, dear
+aunt."
+
+He did not take the letter from his pocket till he was in a quiet
+street.
+
+
+"My Dear Dick" (it ran), "The reason that I have had the address on
+the envelope written in a strange hand is that I do not want mother to
+know I am writing to you. You must not tell her. I feel sure you will
+get my letter this morning, because you will have heard of my going
+away, and will go to mother's to get some news of me. I need your
+help, dear Dick. I am at 16, Park Street, Islington, first floor. Come
+at 2 o'clock; I shall be looking out for you; and let it be a secret
+between us. I know how true and faithful you are, and I have no fear
+that you will betray me. With constant love, my dear Dick,
+
+                        "Your affectionate Cousin,
+
+                                        "Florence."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXII.
+
+           DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE
+                                WORD.
+
+
+"At last!" said Dick. "At last a ray of light! What's the time?" He
+looked at a clock in a baker's shop. "Five minutes past ten. Ought I
+to go to her at once? No, I think not. Had she wanted me earlier she
+would have said, 'Come to me the moment you get this letter.' Four
+long hours to wait. What am I to do with myself till two o'clock?"
+
+With the idea of making time fly faster he began to count his steps--
+ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred. He made
+a calculation. A step a second, three hundred steps three hundred
+seconds, five minutes, and five minutes more employed in thought and
+calculation. Ten minutes gone, ten minutes nearer to Florence. He came
+to another shop with a clock in it; it marked eight minutes past ten.
+He had done all this in three minutes. He had walked too quickly, and
+was fast working himself up to fever heat. "Keep cool, my lad," he
+muttered; "you'll mar instead of mend if you don't keep cool."
+
+But the events of the last few hours, with their tragic issues,
+pressed so heavily upon him that he found it no easy matter to keep
+cool. Much easier was it to conjure up the feelings of a murderer,
+who, oppressed with the weight of his undiscovered crime, fancies he
+discerns in every face the knowledge of his guilt--turning his head
+over his shoulder every minute to see if he was being dogged--starting
+at familiar sounds, especially at the sound of bells and clocks
+striking the hour, every peal proclaiming to all the world that a
+Murderer was passing that way--tortured by the devilish temptation to
+leap into the middle of the road, and flinging up his arms to scream
+aloud, "Stop, you grinning fools! _I did it!_" Then running to a
+bridge, with a mob at his heels, and flinging himself into the river.
+
+For some minutes Dick was under a spell of this nature. He looked
+nervously at the head-lines on the newspaper bills, and listened for
+the shouting of the newsboys, "Murder! Murder! Frightful Murder in
+Catchpole Square!" But no such words reached his ears. Passing the
+shop in which he had purchased the rope and grapnel, he was almost
+prepared to see the dirty-faced old man, in his list slippers and
+greasy skull cap, run out and cry, "Stop that man! Ask him what he did
+with the rope he bought of me last night. Stop him--stop him!"
+
+"I am losing my senses," said Dick, "indulging in these fancies. I
+shall be deluding myself presently into the belief that it was I who
+murdered Samuel Boyd. I'll go and see little Gracie. I may get some
+news of Abel Death."
+
+Gracie was in bed, and Mrs. Death was in the adjoining room, preparing
+a linseed poultice for her. She looked into Dick's face, and dropped
+her eyes.
+
+"You've heard nothing, sir?"
+
+"Nothing," he replied. "I have come to see Gracie. Is she any better?"
+
+"She's no worse, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sigh, "but I can hardly
+keep her in bed, and the trouble I have to put a poultice on her is
+beyond description; I have almost to go on my bended knees. She's the
+dearest child, sir; she never thinks of herself."
+
+Upon Dick's entrance Gracie sat up in bed and put out her hand; it was
+hot and clammy, and Dick patted it kindly, and held it in his. The
+faces of the other children, who were all sitting on the floor,
+playing shop with stones and broken pieces of crockery, became
+illumined at sight of Dick.
+
+"It's good of you to come," said Gracie. "I thought you would. You
+mustn't mind my coughing a bit. I'm ever so much better, but mother
+_will_ worry about me. I want to whisper to you. Do you think father's
+dead?"
+
+"No, Gracie," he said, to comfort her. "I don't think that."
+
+"Then what's keeping him away? Is he afraid of somebody? Father never
+did anything wrong. We'll look for him together when I'm well. Shall
+we?"
+
+"Yes, Gracie; and so that you may get well soon and find him, you
+mustn't sit up in bed." He put her head gently on the hard pillow, and
+arranged the scanty coverings over her. She made no resistance, but
+kept her eyes upon him, gravely and steadily.
+
+"I've been dreaming of you all night long," she said.
+
+"Now, what do _you_ want?" said Dick to Connie, who was standing at
+his knee.
+
+"Here's two ounces of tea," said Connie, giving him a stone, "and some
+scrag of mutton" (giving him another), "and a silk dress" (giving him
+another), "and a pound of sugar, and a penn'orth of brandy balls, and
+a pair of boots, and four pounds of potatoes, and a pint of beer"--all
+represented by stones, which Dick accepted with an air of great
+enjoyment. "If you haven't got any money we'll trust you." Having
+effected which sale upon these unbusinesslike conditions, the child
+trotted back to her brothers and sisters, who put their heads together
+and whispered.
+
+Mrs. Death entered with the poultice, and was about to put it on, when
+a soft tapping was heard on the passage door. Before any one could
+answer it the handle was turned and Dr. Vinsen presented himself.
+
+Gracie lay back in bed, and clutched Dick's hand tight.
+
+As Dr. Vinsen glanced around the room, Dick thought his eyes were
+smaller and sleepier than on the first occasion they had met; his
+heavy white lids hung low, and partially veiled them; but this aspect
+of languor was more than counterbalanced by the fringe of yellow
+hair round his bald head, which gave him a luminous, not to say a
+saint-like appearance.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Dick Remington," he said, in the pleasantest of voices, "good
+morning, _good_ morning. Are you also here on a mission of kindness to
+our little patient--our lit-tle pa-tient? Permit me." He disengaged
+the clammy hand which clasped Dick's, and timed Gracie's pulse by his
+large gold watch, at which the children stared in awe. "Rather
+feverish, but an improvement. What do you say? It's nothing to
+worry about? Then we'll not worry about it. Why should we? Life
+brings a peck of worries in its train--why should we make the peck
+overflow--o-ver-flow?" With his head on one side, like a large
+yellow-fringed bird, he smilingly invited an opinion from Dick.
+
+"Why, indeed?" said Dick.
+
+"True--true. Why?" As though not he, but Dick, had made the inquiry.
+"We are getting along nicely, Mrs. Death, I am happy to say. In a
+short time we shall have our little patient running about again,
+playing with her companions, as well as ever. The troubles of
+children, eh, Mr. Remington?"
+
+"Yes," said Dick, vaguely.
+
+"A private word in your ear. Have we heard from our missing friend?"
+
+"I believe not," replied Dick.
+
+"Sad--sad--sad! But there is time--there is always time; and
+hope--there is always hope. She bears up."
+
+"What else can she do? Knocking your head against a stone wall is not
+an agreeable diversion."
+
+"_Your_ head, my young friend, _your_ head," said Dr. Vinsen,
+jocosely. Then turning to Mrs. Death, "What is this? A linseed
+poultice? Very proper. Let it be very hot. Our little patient makes a
+face. If she never has a worse trouble than a linseed poultice she is
+to be envied. Here is a bottle of medicine--a tablespoonful every four
+hours. I will call again to-morrow. You will not shut your door
+against me, eh?"
+
+"No, indeed, sir. We don't shut the door against our best friends."
+
+"So kind of you to say so." He paused to contemplate the group of
+children on the floor. "This"--with a comprehensive wave of his hand,
+so as to take in the whole of the room--"is a scene for an artist, and
+on the walls of the Academy would attract attention, even from the
+aristocracy."
+
+"That wouldn't help them much," observed Dick.
+
+"I don't know--I really don't know. It enlarges the scope, widens the
+sympathies--wi-dens the sym-pa-thies. Be happy, children, be happy."
+He went through the ceremony of shaking hands with Dick and Mrs.
+Death, and with an amiable smile, in which his halo seemed to take
+part, left the room.
+
+"Dick," whispered Gracie. He bent towards her. "May I call you Dick?"
+
+"Yes, Gracie."
+
+"Wait a bit till my cough's over." She almost choked herself in her
+effort to finish the sentence before the cough commenced. It lasted a
+long time, but Dick, supporting her in his arms, was glad to hear that
+it was looser. Then she whispered to him again, "Don't let 'em hear
+us, Dick. Say Damn!"
+
+"Damn!" said Dick, without the least hesitation.
+
+She sank back and smiled. It was the first time Dick had seen her
+smile, and it brought a wonderful light into her sallow face. Whatever
+may have been the reason for the singular request, she was evidently
+much relieved.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                        FLORENCE AND REGINALD.
+
+
+The hands of all the clocks in Islington that kept correct time marked
+the hour of two as Dick stood before the door of 16, Park Street. His
+hand was on the knocker, when the door was opened, and Florence drew
+him into the house.
+
+"Come upstairs, Dick," she said, panting as if she had been running.
+"I saw you from the window, and ran down. Oh, Dick, I am so glad to
+see you--so glad, so glad!"
+
+On the landing of the first floor she stopped and kissed him. "Come
+in, Dick, come in."
+
+They entered a comfortably furnished room, and by the aid of the
+better light he saw that she was struggling to keep back her tears.
+
+"Are you well, Florence?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"In health? Oh, yes," she answered. "But I am in trouble. That is why
+I sent for you."
+
+"You did right. I am here to help you. You may rely upon me,
+Florence."
+
+"I do, dear. Tell me first. How is my dear mother--and my dear
+father--how are they, Dick?"
+
+"You know how they must be, Florence, loving you as they do. They are
+in the most terrible trouble about you. Uncle Rob has been hunting all
+over London for you. I don't wish to distress you, but they have not
+had a moment's rest. It is right that I should tell you this."
+
+"You are quite right, dear. Poor mother and father! It cuts me to
+the heart, but I could not act in any other way. You shall judge,
+Dick--you shall judge--and if you condemn me----"
+
+"Don't give way, Florence."
+
+"I won't. I will be brave. I have been brave to do what I have done.
+Such a cruel thing, such a cruel, cruel thing!--but it was my
+duty--my duty! Oh, Dick, if you knew what love was, you would know of
+what it was capable. I may speak to you, dear, as a sister to a
+brother, may I not?"
+
+"Yes, Florence, as a sister to a brother," he said, quietly.
+
+"I can understand now so many things to which I was blind a year
+ago--what love will lead a woman to do, how it can harden the
+heart----"
+
+"Harden the heart!" he cried.
+
+"Was my heart not hardened," she said, piteously, "when I stole away
+like a thief from the parents who loved and cherished me, knowing, as
+I knew, that I was bringing misery upon them? Was my heart not
+hardened when, at the call of love, I trod love under my feet? My
+prayer was that my separation would not be long, and that, when I was
+free to speak, they would forgive me and take me to their hearts
+again. But what can repay them for the suffering I have inflicted upon
+them--how shall I atone for the wound my own hand has dealt?"
+
+"They will not think of it, Florence, if all is well with you, if,
+when you are free to speak, they approve of what you have done."
+
+"Do you doubt it, Dick?" she asked, her hand at her heart.
+
+"No--on my soul, no!" he cried. "I could never doubt it--I----" He
+came to a sudden stop as his eyes fell upon the hand that lay at her
+breast. She saw the earnest gaze, but did not remove her hand. "That
+ring, Florence!"
+
+"My wedding ring, Dick," she said, and pressed her lips upon it.
+
+"You are married!"
+
+"I am married, dear."
+
+"To Mr. Reginald?"
+
+"Yes; but that is not the name I bear."
+
+He covered his face with his hands. He had long known that she was
+lost to him, but only at this moment did he fully realise it. And not
+alone that. He was overwhelmed by the thought of the damning evidence
+in his pocket, a virtual accusation of murder made by the murdered man
+himself against his son, against Florence's husband! An ashen face
+confronted her as he took his hands from his eyes.
+
+"Dick!" she cried.
+
+"It is nothing, dear, nothing." His eyes wandered around the room.
+"You are not living here alone?"
+
+"No, Dick. My husband is in that room. Come and see him. Tread softly,
+softly!"
+
+She opened the door, and he followed her into the room, and there, in
+bed, lay the son of Samuel Boyd, the man lying dead in his house in
+Catchpole Square.
+
+"The doctor has given him a sleeping draught," said Florence, in a low
+tone. "He has been very ill, and no one to nurse him but I." With
+tender care she smoothed the pillow, and drew the counterpane over his
+shoulders, then stooped and kissed him. When she raised her face it
+was illumined. Love shone there, and a divine pity. There are memories
+which dwell in the mind till the hour of death, and this revelation of
+devoted love would dwell in Dick's mind till his life was ended.
+
+"Is he changed much?" she asked.
+
+"He is worn and thin," Dick replied. "Has he been ill long?"
+
+"A good many days, but thank God! the doctor says he will get well. If
+he sleeps till eight or nine o'clock it will help his recovery
+greatly."
+
+They re-entered the sitting room. Dick took a chair with its back to
+the light, and each looked at the other in silence awhile. Florence
+was the first to speak.
+
+"Where shall I commence, Dick?"
+
+"At the beginning," he replied. "Hide nothing from me if you are sure
+you can trust me."
+
+"I _am_ sure. There is no shame in an honest love, dear."
+
+"None, Florence.
+
+"It is eighteen months ago that Reginald and I first met. Mother and I
+were spending an evening with a friend when he came in and was
+introduced to us as Mr. Reginald, A few days afterwards we met him in
+the street, and he walked a little way with us, and asked if he might
+call and see us; and soon he became a regular visitor. How does love
+come, Dick? It is a mystery, but I know I used to think a great deal
+of him when he was away, and once or twice when we expected him and he
+did not come I felt unhappy. When I heard his voice I was happy again,
+and then I knew I loved him. One day he spoke to me, and my heart was
+filled with happiness when he told me he loved me. He said he feared
+he was wrong in speaking to me of love, for there was a secret in his
+life which he did not wish to disclose for a time; and he asked, if we
+entered into an engagement, that I should say nothing of it to my
+parents without his consent. I loved him, Dick, and trusted him, and I
+consented to everything he proposed. So I had a lover, and no one at
+home knew anything of it. Do not misjudge Reginald; he is the soul of
+honour, and I would as soon doubt the goodness of God as I would doubt
+the good faith and honour of the man I love. Do I hear him moving?"
+
+She rose, and stepped softly to the bedroom. Returning, she said,
+
+"No, he is sleeping peacefully. Oh, Dick, dear, you would pity him if
+you knew how he has suffered, and how little he deserves it. It is two
+months to-day that he spoke very seriously to me, in consequence of
+something you said. You will remember it, Dick. You were in a
+situation as clerk, and one night you told us that you were acting as
+clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, and that you intended to
+give up your situation because of the bad character he bore. He was a
+money-lender, you said, and had brought ruin on a number of poor
+people. Mother didn't like the idea of your throwing up your
+situation, but when you asked her if she would advise you to stop with
+such a man she said, no, she wouldn't, and that Mr. Samuel Boyd was a
+rascal. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that I was
+sorry for you. Reginald recalled that conversation, and warned me to
+prepare for a disclosure that might cause me to shrink from him. He
+had kept his name concealed, he said, because he was ashamed of his
+father, who was no other than the Mr. Samuel Boyd of whom such hard
+words were spoken at home. He told me of his life; how during his
+boyhood he was kept at school, and then sent abroad to learn
+languages; how he knew nothing of his father's doings, who described
+himself as a financier; how, his education being completed, his father
+summoned him home, and how, while he lived in Catchpole Square, he was
+shocked at the discovery of the kind of business his father was
+engaged in. It was so revolting to Reginald that he spoke his mind
+freely; they had quarrels, and the end of it was that he left his
+father's house, determined to get his own living in a more honest way.
+Wasn't it noble of him, Dick?"
+
+"It was what an honourable man would do."
+
+"When Reginald had told me all this, he said he was sure that if it
+came to the knowledge of mother and father that he was Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's son they would forbid him the house; and he begged me to give
+him a proof of my love by consenting to a marriage at a registrar's
+office, and to keep it a secret till he was in a position to furnish a
+home for me. I loved him so that I consented, and I promised, too, to
+keep it secret till he gave me permission to speak to mother and
+father. So we went one morning to a registrar's office, and were
+married. I wasn't absent from home more than two hours, and no one
+suspected the step we had taken. I can't say I was happy; keeping a
+secret of that kind from parents so kind and dear made me appear in my
+own eyes very ungrateful, but Reginald was so hopeful that I bore up,
+and prayed for the day to arrive when we could ask forgiveness. Do you
+condemn me, Dick? Do you condemn Reginald? Put yourself in his place,
+and say whether, if you loved a girl as he loves me, you could bear
+the idea of losing her?"
+
+"I would lose my heart's blood first," said Dick. "But it was hard for
+Uncle and Aunt Rob."
+
+"Yes, it was hard, and it often made me very wretched, but I couldn't
+break my promise to Reginald; that would have been a bad commencement
+for a young wife. The worst of it was that he wasn't getting along
+very well. 'I shall be getting desperate presently,' he said, 'unless
+things take a turn for the better. Our little home seems farther off
+than ever.' I cheered him up, and said there was plenty of time before
+us, and that I was sure there was some good luck in store for him. So
+things went on till a fortnight ago, when he said he was afraid he had
+done wrong in persuading me to a secret marriage. 'But I've an idea,'
+he said, 'and whatever comes of it I'll carry it out. Don't ask me
+what it is; it's something I must keep to myself.' Dick," said
+Florence, breaking off, "that night at home when you and mother were
+speaking against Mr. Samuel Boyd, did you do so purposely because
+Reginald was with us?"
+
+"Yes, I spoke purposely," he answered.
+
+"Reginald said you did, and that you looked as if you had a suspicion
+of him. But you didn't know he was Mr. Boyd's son?"
+
+"I did know it," said Dick.
+
+"Why did you keep it to yourself?" she asked, with a troubled look.
+
+"It was for your sake, Florence," he answered quietly. "It wasn't for
+me to pry into your secrets."
+
+"Thank you, dear," said Florence, putting her hand into his with a
+tender smile, "it was like you."
+
+"Did Reginald carry out his idea, Florence?"
+
+"I can't tell you; he said nothing more about it to me. Last Saturday
+I received a letter from him saying he wasn't very well, and couldn't
+come to mother's on Sunday, and asking me not to call and see him till
+I heard from him again. What day of the month is this, Dick?"
+
+"The 7th. Last Saturday was the 2nd," said Dick, and thought, "The day
+after he went to his father's house late at night, the day after Abel
+Death went there in the night in the hope that Samuel Boyd would take
+him back again, _the day after the murder!_"
+
+"Yes, Dick, the 7th. I didn't go to Reginald either on that day or on
+Sunday. You can imagine how miserable I was. On Monday morning I
+received another short letter, in which he asked me again not to come
+and see him. The next letter came on Tuesday night when mother and I
+were sitting together."
+
+"That was the night of the great fog. Aunt Rob told me you went out in
+the afternoon in the thick of it. What did you go out for?"
+
+"I came here to inquire after Reginald. The landlady said he wasn't
+well, and that she had just posted a letter to me from him. 'May I go
+up and see him?' I asked, and she answered, calling me 'miss,' that he
+had given orders that no one was to be allowed up, and that when I had
+read the letter I might know what to do. I was far from happy, Dick,
+as I walked home through the fog, and a great deal unhappier when the
+night postman brought the letter, for there was something in it--I
+hardly know what--that made me feel I ought to go to him. I couldn't
+ask advice of mother because of my promise to Reginald, which I
+wouldn't break; and even if anyone had advised me against what I
+believed was right I shouldn't have listened to it. I went to my
+bedroom early, and so did mother, and I got out of the house at ten
+o'clock and came straight here. In the streets I put on my wedding
+ring, which I had not worn at home, of course, only putting it on and
+looking at it when I was alone in my room, and I took care that the
+landlady should see it when I told her I was a relation of Reginald's
+and had come to nurse him. It was time I did, for he was wandering in
+his mind, and hadn't called in a doctor because he couldn't afford to
+pay for one. Thank God I had a little money in my purse, and I've got
+thirty pounds in the Post Office Savings Bank which I've given notice
+to take out. Reginald didn't know me, and I was in the most dreadful
+trouble about him. All his wandering thoughts were about me and his
+father, and I thought what a shocking thing it would be if he were to
+die without seeing him. Oh, Dick, my heart was breaking, but I wanted
+to do what was right, and I thought it likely, if Mr. Boyd saw
+Reginald in the state he was, that his heart would soften towards the
+poor boy. I tried to get at his wishes. Bending over him I said, 'Do
+you want to see your father?' I said it three or four times, and then
+he said, 'Yes, yes, my father, Catchpole Square. The end house in
+Catchpole Square. My father--my father!' I called the landlady in, and
+asked her if she would stop up with Reginald while I went to fetch
+some one he wanted to see. She consented, and I went out. It was very
+late when I got to the house in Catchpole Square, and I knocked and
+knocked without anyone answering me. 'He can't be there,' I thought,
+and I was creeping out of the Square when two men came into it. One of
+them had a bull's eye lamp in his hand, and I saw they were policemen.
+My anxiety then was to get away from them, but they saw me and called
+out to me to stop, and laid hands on me. How I escaped I don't know,
+but I tore myself away and ran for my life, and in a minute or two I
+was alone and free. Then I managed to find my way back here, and sent
+the good landlady to bed, telling her that the person I had gone to
+fetch was out of town. Yesterday morning early I sent for a doctor,
+and he said that Reginald would have died if he hadn't been called in,
+but that there were hopes for him. Oh, how I thanked God for the good
+news! and how grateful I was when Reginald last night opened his eyes
+and recognised me! He didn't blame me, poor boy, but spoke so sweetly
+of everybody! I told him how I had run away from home, and I begged
+him to allow me to end this mystery and to make things right with
+father and mother. He thought a little, and said, 'Send for your
+cousin Dick, and do what he advises.' I cried for joy, and I sat down
+at once and wrote to you. Now you know all, dear. Will you go and tell
+them everything, and ask them to forgive poor Reginald and me?"
+
+"I will, Florence," said Dick, "the moment I go from here. It will be
+a happiness to me to relieve their suspense. But I want to ask you a
+question or two first."
+
+"Yes, Dick."
+
+"How long has Reginald been ill?"
+
+"Since Saturday."
+
+"Has he been in bed all the time?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"May I go into his room?"
+
+"What for? If he's asleep"--she opened the door and peeped in--"yes,
+he's asleep. You won't disturb him, Dick?"
+
+"No, I will not speak to him. I've got my reasons, Florence."
+
+"Very well, dear," she said, her eyes following him as he stepped
+softly to the bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
+
+His purpose was to examine Reginald's boots, and he saw them the
+moment he entered the room. Reginald having been in bed since Saturday
+they could not have been worn since his visit to Catchpole Square on
+Friday night. Dick took them up, and discerned on the soles traces of
+the waxed paper which Samuel Boyd had set as a trap. With his penknife
+he carefully scraped off these tell-tale evidences of the visit, and
+returned to Florence.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "when Reginald saw his father last?"
+
+"No," she answered, "it must have been a long time ago."
+
+He did not disabuse her. "He is sleeping quite calmly," he said. "Did
+the doctor say when he would be able to get up?"
+
+"In two or three days, he told me, if the opiate he gave him had the
+desired effect. It _is_ having it, Dick."
+
+"No doubt of that. By the way, Florence, in your haste to escape from
+the policemen in Catchpole Square did you lose or drop anything?"
+
+"How clever you are to think of it, Dick! I lost a handkerchief."
+
+"With your name on it?"
+
+"Yes. All my handkerchiefs are marked. I think I had it in my hand
+when I was in the Square, but I can't be sure. It is of no
+consequence. There are plenty of girls named Florence. How did you cut
+your hand?"
+
+"With some broken glass. _That's_ of no consequence. It is only a
+scratch." The exertion and haste he had made in scraping the wax off
+Reginald's boots had started the blood.
+
+"Let me bind it up. Oh, Dick, you are our good angel! Dear Dick!
+Reginald likes you so much! But he had an idea that you didn't care
+for him."
+
+"I care for him very much, Florence."
+
+"And do you know," she said, almost gaily, so happy was she in the
+prospect of Reginald's speedy recovery, and of removing the cloud of
+misery she had brought upon her parents, "he had another idea--but I
+won't mention that."
+
+"Yes, do, dear. Remember, you are to hide nothing from me."
+
+"Well, he had an idea that you were fond of me."
+
+"He is right. I am very fond of you, Florence."
+
+"I know that, dear. But in another way, he meant. You understand."
+
+"Yes, dear cousin, I understand."
+
+"I told him that we had been brought up together, and that he wasn't
+to be jealous of my dear cousin Dick. Foolish of him, wasn't it?"
+
+"Very foolish. How could such an idea have got into his head?"
+
+"Well--perhaps--it--was--natural," she said, with an arch pause
+between each word. Ah, if she could have read his heart at that
+moment! But he did not betray himself. "There! I am sure your hand
+must feel more comfortable. I hope your feelings won't change towards
+me now that I'm a married woman."
+
+"My feelings will never change, Florence, dear."
+
+"A married woman! How strange and beautiful it sounds! To think of the
+time when we were playing together as little children! Such changes,
+Dick, such changes! It is almost as if we were not ourselves. My dear
+cousin! Do you think dear mother and father will come to me?"
+
+"I will answer for them. Now, I must go. Every moment saved is a
+moment of happiness gained to them."
+
+"Go, Dick, go quickly."
+
+They kissed, and he was gone. When he was in the street he looked up
+at the window, and saw her standing there, looking out after him. She
+threw the window open, and kissed her hand to him. He returned the
+fond sign and hurried on.
+
+"Steady, Dick, steady," he said.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.
+
+
+The admonition was needed, for his brain was in a whirl. The
+disclosure of Reginald's movements made by Florence, his statement to
+her that he had an idea for improving his circumstances which he
+intended to carry out "whatever came of it," his silence regarding his
+visits to the house in Catchpole Square, his fevered ravings about his
+father--were, as Dick said with a groan, "so many nails in his
+coffin."
+
+"No doubt can exist," he argued, "that Samuel Boyd was murdered either
+by his son Reginald or by Abel Death. If what I know were made public
+Reginald would be immediately arrested and charged. Poor Florence! She
+little knows what is in store for her, and what can't be hidden much
+longer. But where, where is Abel Death? Is it possible that he also
+has been murdered? That would make things worse for Reginald. I'll
+search the house from top to bottom to-night in the hope of not
+finding his body, for then the chance of his being the murderer would
+still be open. If Florence's husband is put in the dock we'll make a
+fight for his life."
+
+Having thus relieved his mind he struck a bee-line for Aunt Rob's
+house, and his knock at the door was instantly answered by her and
+Inspector Robson.
+
+"I bring good news," said Dick, in a cheery tone.
+
+"You have found her!" cried Aunt Rob, quivering with excitement.
+
+"Yes, I have found her."
+
+"Thank God--oh, thank God!"
+
+Inspector Robson, pale as death, grasped Dick's hand, and in a husky
+voice asked, "Is she well?"
+
+"Quite well--and waiting to see you."
+
+Aunt Rob threw on her bonnet and mantle. "Here's your hat, father,"
+she said, almost breathless, "we must go to her at once. Come, Dick,
+come."
+
+"Stop a minute," he said, laying his hand on her arm, "I have
+something to tell you first."
+
+"I don't want to hear anything," she cried, sternly. "I want my
+child!"
+
+"Let Dick speak," said Inspector Robson.
+
+Then Dick related all that Florence had told him, and their joy at
+recovering their daughter was so great that they had no word of
+reproach for her. The dear child was found, and they would be once
+more re-united. What more could they desire?
+
+"They must come here this very day, father," said Aunt Rob. "This is
+their home till they get one of their own."
+
+He nodded, and the fond parents, accompanied by Dick, hastened to the
+dear one, with love and forgiveness in their hearts. When they were
+all together in Florence's room he stood apart, a silent witness of
+the joyful meeting. How the parents embraced and wept over their
+child, how she clung to them and kissed them, and entreated them to
+believe that her love for them was stronger than it had ever been!
+Aunt Rob's tearful eyes shone with gladness; her one ewe lamb was
+restored to her; a sacred joy stirred their hearts at this re-union.
+
+Then, when their agitation had somewhat subsided, and they had stepped
+in softly to see Reginald, who was still asleep, came the question of
+his removal.
+
+"It must be left to the doctor," said Uncle Rob. "When do you expect
+him, Florence?"
+
+"He is coming to-night, between eight and nine o'clock," she answered,
+and added, with a wistful look, "we are very poor, father."
+
+"You share with us, my dear," was his ready response. "All we have is
+yours. Mother, it is hardly likely he can be removed for a day or two.
+You will stay with Florence to-night."
+
+"And every night," said Aunt Rob, "till we get her home. I don't let
+her out of my sight. Dick, what are you looking so glum for?"
+
+"Am I looking glum?" he said, striving to speak cheerfully. "I was not
+aware of it."
+
+"Dear Dick!" said Florence, stepping to his side. "How can we thank
+you?"
+
+"That will do, that will do," he said. "As if anybody in my place
+wouldn't have done the same! I must be off now--a thousand things to
+attend to."
+
+"Pop into the office between eight and nine for a chat," said Uncle
+Rob.
+
+"All right, uncle, I'll be there," answered Dick, waving goodbye to
+the happy group.
+
+He was glad to get away, to think of the work before him. The search
+in Samuel Boyd's house for the body of Abel Death must be made
+to-night; it might be the last opportunity he would have to do so
+secretly.
+
+"I must dodge the police, and I must get in early," he thought. "At
+nine I will have a chat with Uncle Rob, at ten I'll be in Catchpole
+Square. My mind is in a state of muddle. Let me see how the case
+stands in respect of dates and the consecutive order of events. To
+save confusion I will jot them down."
+
+Taking a small memorandum book from his pocket he halted at a street
+corner, and made the following entries:
+
+"_Friday, 1st March_.--Abel Death discharged by Samuel Boyd. He pays a
+visit to Catchpole Square at about ten o'clock to beg Boyd to take him
+back into his service. Reginald's two visits to the house, the first
+in the afternoon, the second late at night, hour unknown. In his haste
+to get away on the second occasion he drops in the passage the key of
+the street door. Samuel Boyd murdered. Query--Did Abel Death and
+Reginald meet? Would it be advisable, when Reginald is in his right
+senses, to ask him about this?
+
+"_Saturday, 2nd March_.--Mrs. Death goes to Catchpole Square to obtain
+news of her husband. Unsuccessful. Good reason for it. Dead men tell
+no tales. Reginald back in his lodgings, in bed, delirious. The events
+of the previous night being fresh in his mind, it is likely he raved
+about them. Query--Who attended to him? His landlady. Did she hear
+anything that would furnish a clue, and will this occur to her when
+the murder is discovered?
+
+"_Sunday, 3d March_.--Mrs. Death repeats her visits to Catchpole
+Square. Same result. Same reason for it.
+
+"_Monday, 4th March_.--Mrs. Death continues her visits to Catchpole
+Square.
+
+"_Tuesday, 5th March_.--The day of the great fog. My conversation with
+Uncle Rob in the police station. Mrs. Death and Gracie are brought in.
+Her story. Florence leaves home secretly to nurse Reginald. Fearing
+that he is dying, and gathering from his ravings that he wishes to see
+his father, she goes to Catchpole Square after midnight. She is seen
+by the police and drops her handkerchief, which Constable Pond picks
+up. My conversation with Applebee. He tells me that Pond has a room to
+let. I reconnoitre Samuel Boyd's house, and determine to force an
+entrance next night. Only one way of getting in, by means of rope and
+grapnel.
+
+"_Wednesday, 6th March_.--At the police court with Mrs. Death and
+Gracie. I write par. for 'L. B. B.' I take lodgings in Pond's house,
+and obtain possession of Florence's handkerchief. Visit Aunt Rob, and
+learn particulars of Florence's flight. I purchase rope and grapnel. I
+visit Mrs. Death. No news of her husband. Make the acquaintance of Dr.
+Vinsen. He gives Mrs. Death two pounds. Why should he be so generous?
+At one in the morning I get over dead wall, and into Samuel Boyd's
+house. Discovery of the murder. Find Samuel Boyd's written accusation
+of his son. Pocket it. Find Reginald's key to street door. Pocket it.
+Things look black.
+
+"_Thursday, 7th March_--Visit Aunt Rob. Receive letter from Florence.
+Go to her. Fetch Aunt and Uncle Rob. Leave them together. Things look
+blacker."
+
+Replacing the memorandum book in his pocket he became conscious that
+he was being observed. Looking up he saw the sleepy eyes of Dr. Vinsen
+fixed upon him.
+
+"My dear young friend," said the doctor, with an amused smile, "I
+have been observing you for quite three minutes, and wondering what
+engrossing task you were engaged upon to make you oblivious of
+passers-by. An effort of literature--a poem--an inspiration? I envy
+the literary character. So free, so untrammelled by the ordinary
+circumstances of our prosaic existence! It soars on the wings of
+imagination into fairy realms--in-to fai-ry realms. Who knows that
+you have not in your pocket"--he tapped Dick's breast with a light
+finger--"something that will open our minds to noble truths? Who
+knows--who knows?"
+
+"_I_ know," said Dick. "If an account of how many socks, and collars,
+and handkerchiefs I have sent to the wash will elevate mankind I am
+sure I have no objection."
+
+"A washing account," said Dr. Vinsen, with a gentle laugh. "Dear,
+dear, dear! But romance and mystery may be found even in commonplace
+matters. Look around. Observe the men and women who are passing us.
+What secrets are hidden in their breasts? In yours? In mine? It occurs
+to me at this moment to inquire whether mystery is the offspring of
+romance, or romance the offspring of mystery?"
+
+"You can take your choice," said Dick, attempting to shake Dr. Vinsen
+off.
+
+"_Can_ one take one's choice?" said Dr. Vinsen, walking by Dick's
+side, and ignoring his companion's distaste for his society. "Is it
+open to us to do so? Are we free agents? Are we not rather like boats
+on a strange sea, with hidden currents that whirl us on, and
+occasionally bring destruction upon us--des-truc-tion up-on us? Do you
+happen to be aware if the missing man has returned to the bosom of his
+family?"
+
+"I am not aware of it. I should consider it very unlikely."
+
+"Then you have a theory concerning his mysterious disappearance." Dick
+shook his head sullenly. "No? Perhaps you are right not to trouble
+yourself. I perceive that you are not in the mood for conversation. My
+dear young friend, I take my leave. If I can be of any service, pray
+command me."
+
+So saying, Dr. Vinsen raised his hat, affording the world a view of
+his bald head and his halo, and slowly ambled away.
+
+"Confound you!" said Dick, looking after him. "Why did you raise your
+hat to me? I am not that kind of man, you know."
+
+His mind was in a state to magnify and distort the simplest matters.
+To such an extent that the voice of a newsboy shouting in an adjoining
+street caused him to hurry in that direction to buy a paper. There was
+nothing in it touching the murder, and he crumpled it up and threw it
+into the road So he idled away the time until a few minutes before
+nine, when he entered the Bishop Street Police Station, where his
+uncle expected him.
+
+"Well, Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "things have taken a turn
+since our talk the night before last."
+
+"They have, indeed," returned Dick, and thought, "If you knew all!"
+
+"It has been a terrible time," said the inspector, "and we owe you
+what we can never repay."
+
+"You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when
+she asked me? Did you stop long with her?"
+
+"Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's
+over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that
+Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard
+lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen
+Mrs. Death and her little girl?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dick, "I have been twice to their lodgings, and
+they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great
+poverty--there are seven little children----"
+
+"Poor creature! How's the little girl?"
+
+"There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly
+turned up, and a doctor is attending her."
+
+Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"Have you ever heard of him, uncle?"
+
+"Never; he must be a kind gentleman, and I'm glad such a piece of good
+fortune has fallen to Mrs. Death's share. I wish we could find her
+husband for her. Dick, now that Reginald is connected with us, a watch
+ought to be kept on the house in Catchpole Square. Constable Applebee
+says it looks as if it was quite deserted. If it remains so a day or
+two longer I shall consider what is best to be done. Abel Death and
+Mr. Boyd are mixed up together in my mind, and some steps should be
+taken to clear the mystery. You remember what you said about
+murder--do you still hold to it?"
+
+It was an awkward question, and Dick gave an evasive reply.
+
+"You might have a look round Catchpole Square yourself, Dick."
+
+"I will do so," said Dick, and soon afterwards took his departure.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                    LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.
+
+
+A fine starlight night, and the weather fair all over England,
+especially in Bournemouth where, in their beautiful estate, The
+Gables, Lord and Lady Wharton are giving their yearly ball. The air is
+soft and balmy in this favoured southern retreat, and though it is too
+early yet for the rhododendrons, the gardens are bright with flowers.
+Guests are riding to The Gables from all parts of the county, for this
+annual function is eagerly looked forward to by the belles and beaus
+of Hampshire. At eleven o'clock they begin to arrive, and by midnight
+the nineteenth century revelry is at its full height; at which hour my
+Lady Wharton, deeming that she has done her society duty, ceases to
+receive at the top of the grand staircase, and strolls into the
+grounds to welcome her tardy friends. Lord Wharton, happily
+convalescent, but still weak, and, as some whisper, not so strong in
+his intellect as he might be, is in the card room, where, propped up
+by cushions, he is entertaining a few choice guests by dropping his
+guineas to them. My lady's brother, Lord Fairfax, has also contributed
+to their entertainment, and, feeling that he has done _his_ duty, he
+also strolls into the grounds, and flirts. He is in his fourth decade,
+a handsome gentleman with a blonde moustache, and has not yet made his
+choice in the matrimonial market; therefore he is gladly welcomed by
+all the spring beauties here assembled. But he is not an assiduous
+cavalier, and being weary of most things, is soon weary of languishing
+glances. Standing by a tiny fountain my lady watches him until he
+joins her there.
+
+"They do these things better on the Continent," he says languidly.
+
+Some hostesses would have misunderstood him, but she knows he refers
+to the fountain, and she nods assent. His conversational powers are
+not remarkable, so he allows her to rattle on for his amusement,
+putting in an occasional monosyllable as his contribution.
+
+"Did you leave Wharton in the card room?" she asks.
+
+"Yes," he drawls, and hazards three consecutive words. "Your friend
+arrived?" It is not a question in which he seems to take more than a
+momentary interest. He does everything languidly; even when he raises
+his white fingers to caress his moustache, which has been the business
+of his life, it is done as though the effort were a tax upon his
+physical powers. This, to many of the opposite sex, is one of his
+charms.
+
+"Not yet," my lady answers.
+
+"By the way," he says, and either forgets what he was going to say, or
+finds the effort of a long sentence too great.
+
+"You were going to speak about the old bills?" she asks.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wrote to him to bring them to-night. I can't imagine how I forgot
+to ask him for them when I gave him the new acceptances you and
+Wharton signed."
+
+"Not--business--woman," he observed, with a pause between each word.
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Fairfax," she protested, with a merry laugh.
+"Not a business woman? I should like to know what would become of
+Wharton if I were not."
+
+"Floored," said Lord Fairfax.
+
+"Indeed he would be. And don't I manage _you?_"
+
+"Difficult?" he asked.
+
+"Not at all. You are the dearest fellow! I shall be almost ashamed to
+ask you for another cheque to-morrow."
+
+"Don't. Stumped."
+
+"Next week, then?" He nods. She casts a critical look around. "Our
+most brilliant gathering, I think."
+
+"Jolly," he says, and, being by this time exhausted, he leaves her at
+the fountain, where, presently, she is joined by other guests, with
+whom she carries on an animated conversation.
+
+The grounds, with their thousands of coloured lights, are dotted with
+the attractive dresses of the ladies and the soberer costume of the
+gentlemen. Pleasure shows its smiling face, and doors are shut upon
+black care. No face brighter than that of Lady Wharton, none more free
+from the least suspicion of anxiety. Her hearty voice rings out, an
+invitation to mirth and gaiety. And yet as time wears on there is an
+anxious thought in her mind. "Why does the man not come?" she thinks.
+"He promised to be here faithfully, and it must be now nearly one
+o'clock." She consults a jewelled watch. "Yes, it is--one o'clock."
+The fact is, my lady is pressed for money, and she is expecting to
+receive a thousand pounds to-night in ready cash, half of which must
+go to her dressmaker in the morning. For, come what may, my lady must
+be dressed. So she stands at the fountain, and taps her foot
+impatiently. Soft gleaming lights, fair sky with its panoply of stars
+and bright moon shining, sounds of rippling laughter, gay forms
+gliding and flitting through the lacework of the trees: a fairy scene,
+made not less beautiful by the dark spaces wherein the pines, their
+topmost branches silvered by the moon, stand apart, picturesque
+sentinels of the night.
+
+To my lady a liveried footman, who presents a card. She moves into the
+light to read it.
+
+"At last!" she says. "Where is the man?"
+
+"He is waiting to see you, my lady."
+
+She follows the servant, and steps into the shadow of a cluster of
+trees.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+What connection is there between that gay scene in Bournemouth and
+this more sombre scene in Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square,
+where, an hour after midnight, Dick moves in search of the body of
+Abel Death? The invisible links are in the air. Will they ever be
+brought to light and united to form another chain in the mystery?
+
+Dick's search has lasted two hours, and has been conducted with care
+and patience. It is not alone traces of Abel Death he seeks for; he
+searches for anything in the shape of incriminating evidence against
+Reginald, his intention being to take possession of it, and by-and-by,
+perhaps, destroy it. That by so doing he will be committing a
+felonious act and frustrating the course of justice does not trouble
+him. He is working for Florence.
+
+The first room he lingers in is that in which Samuel Boyd lies. No
+change there. The bed is still occupied by that silent, awful figure,
+cold and dead. Incapable of aught for good or evil as it is, it
+exercises a powerful influence over him. He dreads to approach it, and
+it draws him to its side. He steals from the room, shuddering, and,
+closing the door, breathes more freely at the barrier between them;
+but ever and anon, for some time afterwards, he casts a startled look
+over his shoulder, as though expecting to see a phantom standing
+there.
+
+The ghostly moon shines through the windows which are unshuttered, and
+knowing now, from what Inspector Robson said, that an intermittent
+watch is being kept upon the house, he dare not in those rooms carry a
+light. In the rooms with shuttered windows he risks a lighted candle,
+but holds it close to the floor and moves it warily from spot to spot,
+and shades it with his hand, in order to lessen the chance of its
+glimmer being seen from without. This makes his task more difficult,
+and there are moments when he almost regrets having undertaken it.
+
+The wax figure of the Chinaman is still in its chair, holding in its
+hand the stick of the reign of Charles the Second. The chair is
+old-fashioned, too, having a grandmother's hood to it, so that the
+Chinaman sits, as it were, in a cosy alcove, only those standing in
+front of the figure being able to obtain a full view of its face.
+
+Dick finds no further incriminating evidence against Reginald than
+that which he appropriated on his last visit. He makes, however, a
+curious discovery. He has examined every room with the exception of a
+small room on the same floor as the office, against the outer wall of
+which is placed the grand piano. The door of this room opens into the
+passage, and it is locked. His diligent search is rewarded by finding
+the key of the door, which he opens. The room is simply furnished, a
+table and two wooden chairs being all that it contains. A large
+cupboard with folding doors is fixed to the wall, and by pressing a
+spring he loosens one of these doors. The cupboard is bare of shelves,
+and affords ample space for a man to stand upright in. There is a
+sliding panel at the back, about three feet from the floor, and just
+wide enough for a man to squeeze through. He is surprised to see that
+the sliding panel leads to the interior of the grand piano, which is
+quite hollow and contains no wire or wood-work of any kind. The open
+space is large enough for a man to lie down in, though not without
+discomfort. The key of the piano is in the inner part of the lock, and
+by removing this any person concealed there could see into the office,
+and could certainly hear any sounds of voices or movements made
+therein, the watcher being so shrouded in darkness as to be quite safe
+from observation. "Another of Samuel Boyd's tricks," thinks Dick, "for
+spying upon his clerks." To verify this he returns to the office, and
+satisfies himself that he has arrived at the correct explanation.
+
+As he stands pondering over this curious discovery, which in the end
+he dismisses from his mind as of no importance, he finds himself
+mechanically counting the bottles of wine stacked against another part
+of the wall. It is done idly, and without meaning, but he does not
+forget that there are seventy-six bottles, with the crusted dust of
+years upon them. "Port wine, I should say," he thinks. "I should like
+half a pint." But he does not yield to the temptation.
+
+At three in the morning his search is at an end. He can do nothing
+more. He has met with no traces of Abel Death, and he has not found an
+additional clue.
+
+"I must keep my own counsel," he mutters. "If Abel Death turns up will
+it be for good or ill? His absence lays him open to suspicion, but it
+is altogether a case of circumstantial evidence. Supposing him to be
+caught, tried, and convicted, and he an innocent man----!"
+
+He cannot pursue this supposition to its just conclusion. The image of
+Florence presents itself, her hands stretched out, appealing to him to
+save Reginald.
+
+With a sinking heart, and using every precaution to escape
+observation, he succeeds in getting out of the office by the front
+entrance. Oppressed by the conviction that he must now wait for the
+course of events, and that he is powerless to direct them, he is
+walking out of Deadman's Court when the voice of Constable Applebee
+falls upon his ears.
+
+"I thought it was you, sir," said the constable. "Have you been
+looking at the house?"
+
+"Yes," replies Dick, pulling himself together, "from the outside."
+
+"Of course from the outside, sir," says Constable Applebee. "I should
+like to have a look at it from the inside. People are beginning to
+talk about it. It's seven days now since anybody's set eyes on Mr.
+Boyd, and seven days since Mr. Abel Death disappeared. That's what I
+call a coincidence. I hope it's nothing more than that. Hope you're
+comfortable in your new lodgings, sir."
+
+"Quite comfortable, thank you. I must be off to them now. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Dick is by this time thoroughly tired out, and when he reaches his
+room is glad to tumble into bed.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+           "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.
+
+
+Two days afterwards, that is, on the 9th of March, some hours after
+the morning papers were in circulation, all London was ringing with
+the news of the mysterious murder in Catchpole Square. The name of
+Samuel Boyd was on every tongue; the newsboys shouted it out raucously
+and jubilantly, with the full force of their lungs, and the wind
+carried it into all the highways and byeways of the vast metropolis;
+it was printed on the variously coloured waybills of the newspapers in
+scarlet letters, green letters, yellow letters, as large as the width
+of the sheets permitted; it was read aloud and discussed in omnibuses,
+in public-house bars, in the workshops and places of business; it was
+bandied about, tossed in the air, caught up and passed on,
+embellished, illustrated and exaggerated, and rolled over the tongue
+as the most tempting of tempting morsels. Editorial offices were alive
+with it, their swing doors had not a moment's rest, the whole of the
+staff were on the _qui vive_, reporters hurried this way and that in
+their hunt for facts, fanciful or otherwise, that had the remotest
+connection, or no connection at all, with the name of the murdered man
+and the circumstances of the murder, as far as they were known. Now
+was the chance for the descriptive writer, for the youthful aspirants
+for journalistic fame, for the enterprising interviewer. Things had
+been rather dull lately. There had been no stirring crime, no
+bloodthirsty deed, no sensational trial, no tremendous conflagration,
+no awful shipwreck, no colliery explosion, no terrible railway
+collision, for quite a week, and circulation was languishing. But here
+at last was a dish of hot spice to stir the blood, to set tongues
+wagging, to fire the imagination, to make the pulses glow. A murder!
+And such a murder! Dark, thrilling, impenetrable, inscrutable,
+enveloped in delicious mystery. What is one man's meat is another
+man's poison, and Samuel Boyd, who had never in life given a beggar a
+penny or the price of a meal to a starving man, was the means, in
+death, of filling many a platter and frothing up many a pewter pot.
+Trade revived. People spent more, drank more, smoked more, went to the
+music-halls and theatres more, for it was impossible to keep still
+with such an excitement in the air. See the radiant faces of the
+ragged street urchins as they shout it out and dispose of their
+sheets, and are not asked for change of a penny--see the journalistic
+scouts as they follow the trail, true trail, false trail, any
+trail--see the crowds in Fleet Street and the Strand and all the
+narrow thoroughfares leading riverwards--see the smart newspaper
+carts, with their dapper ponies flying north, south, east, and west
+with their latest editions--see the travellers on the tops of
+omnibuses throwing down their coppers and bending over to seize the
+papers--see the railway bookstalls besieged by eager buyers, who,
+rushing to catch a train, pick up half a dozen different journals, in
+the hope of finding in one of them two or three lines of different
+import from those contained in all the others--see the men standing at
+street corners, running their eyes down the columns, animated by a
+similar hope--see the telegraph wires, blind and deaf to human
+passion, carrying the message of murder, murder, murder, on their
+hundreds of miles of silent tongues--see the envy of the hawkers of
+wax matches, penny toys, and bone shirt studs, as they watch the
+roaring trade that is being done by the busy armies of tag, rag, and
+bobtail, who form the distributing street agency of journalistic
+literature, and wish that heaven had sent them such a bit of luck.
+Sold out again, Jack! Hurrah! Fly off for another quire. As good as a
+Derby Day, Bill! As good? Ten times better! Where are "all the
+winners" now? Shorn of their glory they sink into the background, and
+no small punter so poor to do them reverence? What are "all the
+winners" to a rattling spicy murder?
+
+Never had "The Little Busy Bee" more fully justified its title than
+on the present occasion. A daring scheme had suggested itself to one
+of the members of the staff, which had been crowned with success.
+Ahead of all its rivals it was the first to publish the exciting news,
+and needless to say it made the most of its golden opportunity. The
+office was besieged; it was like a Jubilee Day. Men and boys fought
+and scrambled for the copies as the steam presses belched them forth,
+and selling them out before they reached the wider thoroughfares,
+rushed back for more. The day was Saturday, and the whirling tumult
+lasted till midnight.
+
+The manner of "The Little Busy Bee's" buzzing in its preliminary
+editions was as follows: First, a quotation in large type from
+"Macbeth." And one cried, "Murder!" Then half a column of the usual
+sensational headings. Then the account of the daring scheme and the
+discovery in the following fashion:
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+             "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.
+
+
+"Special and exclusive information has just reached us of
+
+
+                  _A Remarkable and Ghastly Murder_
+
+
+in the North of London, and we hasten to lay the particulars before
+the public. It will be fresh in the recollection of our readers that
+in our Tuesday's editions we drew attention to a blind thoroughfare in
+that neighbourhood, known as Catchpole Square, to which the only
+access is through a hooded passage, bearing the ominous and
+significant designation of Deadman's Court. On that morning a poor
+woman, accompanied by her little daughter, whose pallid face and
+emaciated appearance evoked general sympathy, made an application to
+the magistrate at the Bishop Street Police Court respecting the
+mysterious disappearance of her husband, Mr. Abel Death. It appears
+that this man was a clerk in the employ of Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square, and that on Friday evening last he was summarily
+discharged by his employer. He was in needy circumstances and he came
+home to his lodgings in a very desponding frame of mind, for the loss
+of his situation spelt ruin to his family. In this desperate strait he
+left his wife at between nine and ten o'clock on the same night, with
+the intention, as she stated, of making an appeal to Mr. Boyd to take
+him back into his service. From that hour to this nothing has been
+heard of him. Neither has anything been heard of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who,
+it may be premised, is supposed to be a man of great wealth, and is
+described by some of his neighbours as a money-lender, by others as a
+miser. Credence is given to the latter description by the fact that he
+lived quite alone, and kept no servants in his house, such domestic
+services as he required being performed by a charwoman who attended
+only when she was sent for.
+
+"Mrs. Death's application at the police court having been made public
+through the medium of our columns it was a reasonable presumption that
+it would have come to the notice of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and that he would
+have sent a communication either to the distracted wife or to the
+newspapers, stating if Abel Death visited him on Friday night, and if
+so, at what hour he left. But Mr. Boyd made no sign. The woman said
+that she had been several times to the house in Catchpole Square, and
+had received no response to her knocking at the street door. Nothing
+was seen of either of the men, and it is probable that nothing would
+have been known for a considerable time had it not been for the bold
+action taken by a valued member of our staff, to whose love of
+adventure we have been frequently indebted.
+
+"We may state at once that this gentleman acted entirely upon his own
+initiative, and that we accept the full responsibility of his
+proceedings, and are prepared to defend them. It may be objected in
+some quarters that he took upon himself duties which did not fall
+within his province. We will not at present argue the point. There was
+a dark mystery; there were rumours of foul play; hidden from public
+gaze stood a house which contained the evidence of
+
+
+                        _A Terrible Tragedy;_
+
+
+futile endeavours had been made to obtain entrance into this house;
+the police did not act, probably because they had no authority to act.
+What followed? That the press stepped in, and by a bold stroke
+
+
+                      _Laid a Foul Crime Bare_.
+
+
+"History records how officers high in command on land and sea, but not
+invested with complete authority, have disobeyed orders and won great
+victories. Success justified them. Success justifies us.
+
+"We come now to details.
+
+"In his endeavour to ascertain whether a search of Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house would afford a clue to the silence of its proprietor and to the
+disappearance of Abel Death, our reporter ran the risk of being
+arrested for burglary. Except that he did not get in by the front door
+we do not propose just now to disclose how he obtained an entrance
+into the open space at the back; sufficient that he did obtain it, and
+that at ten o'clock this morning he found himself in an enclosed yard
+at the rear of the house. The merest examination of this part of the
+premises satisfied him that some person, probably a more experienced
+burglar, had been before him. The back door was locked and bolted, but
+a window sill and the panes of glass above had been smashed in, and
+there were signs that the person who had done this had entered the
+house through the window. To reach the sill the first burglar had
+stood upon a rickety bench which had apparently given way beneath him.
+Our reporter managed to put this together in a sufficiently firm
+manner to afford him a temporary foothold. Then, with an upward
+spring, he got his hands upon the sill, and scrambled through the
+window into a small unfurnished room. He did not effect this violent
+entrance without noise, but there were no indications that his
+movements had disturbed any person in the house, which was silent as
+the grave. His next task was to examine the rooms, all the doors of
+which were unlocked. He proceeded with great caution, and at length
+reached an apartment which, from the fact of its containing a writing
+table, desk, and safe, he concluded was the office in which Mr. Boyd
+conducted his business affairs, although, from the singular collection
+of articles scattered about, it might have been the shop of a dealer
+in miscellaneous goods, comprising as they did several dozens of wine,
+old tapestry and armour, pictures, valuable china, a grand piano, and,
+strangest of all, the wax figure of a Chinaman which might have come
+straight from Madame Tussaud's exhibition. Our reporter confesses to a
+feeling of alarm when he first saw this figure, the back of which was
+towards him, and, while it did not lessen his surprise, it was with
+relief he ascertained its real nature. Up to this point, however,
+strange as were the objects which met his eyes, he had seen nothing to
+warrant his breaking into the house. The safe was locked, and there
+was no appearance of its having been tampered with; with the exception
+of the broken window at the back of the house, there were no signs of
+disorder in any part of it, and he began to doubt the wisdom of his
+proceedings. He was not to remain long in doubt; he was on the
+threshold of
+
+
+                      _An Appalling Discovery_.
+
+
+"There are three doors in the apartment in which he stood. One leading
+to the passage, one on the left, and one on the right. This last door
+opened into a bedroom, which he entered. Seeing the form of a human
+being in the bed he retreated, uncertain how to act. Then he called
+softly, and receiving no answer spoke in a louder tone, and still
+received no answer. Mustering up courage he approached the bed,
+stepping very gently, and laid his hand on the man's shoulder. The
+silence continuing he turned down the bedclothes. The man was dead!
+
+"In view of the proceedings he had determined to take our reporter
+last night obtained from a policeman a personal description of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, and he had no difficulty in identifying the features of
+the dead man. They were those of Abel Death's employer, and from
+certain marks on his throat he came to the conclusion that Mr. Boyd
+had been murdered by strangulation. The position of the furniture did
+not denote that a struggle had taken place on the floor of the
+bedroom, and the reasonable conclusion is that Mr. Boyd had been
+strangled in his sleep. After the deed was done the murderer must have
+composed the limbs of his victim, and arranged the bedclothes over the
+body, in order, probably, to make it appear that Mr. Boyd had died a
+natural death. The shortsightedness of this proceeding is a singular
+feature in this ruthless crime, for it is scarcely possible that the
+marks on his throat could escape detection, or that the strangulation
+could have been effected without some violent efforts on the part of
+the victim to save himself, whereby the bedclothes must have been
+tossed about.
+
+"The silence of Mr. Samuel Boyd on the subject of the disappearance of
+Abel Death is now accounted for; the disappearance of Abel Death has
+yet to be explained. We make no comment. From this hour the matter is
+in the hands of the police, who will doubtless set all the machinery
+of Scotland Yard in motion to discover the murderer and bring him to
+justice.
+
+"A circumstance remains to be mentioned which may furnish a clue.
+Before he left the house to give information to the police our
+reporter's attention was attracted by certain dark stains on the floor
+of the bedroom and the office. They bear the appearance of having been
+made by a man's feet. Our reporter traced these dark stains from the
+office into the passage, and from the passage down a staircase leading
+to the small room which our reporter first entered through the broken
+window. There they end. The mystery is deepened by the fact that there
+are no marks of blood on the clothes of the bed in which the murdered
+man lies. Our reporter scraped off a portion of the stains, which we
+have placed in the hands of an experienced analyst, in order to
+ascertain whether they are stains of human blood.
+
+"An important question, yet to be decided, is, when the murder was
+committed. Our reporter is of the opinion that it was perpetrated
+several days ago. The evidence of doctors will be of value here. We
+understand that no person in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square has
+seen Mr. Boyd since last Friday evening. From Mrs. Death's evidence at
+the Bishop Street Police Court we gather that her husband has not been
+seen since that day. The presumption is that the murder was committed
+on Friday night. Much depends upon the discovery of Abel Death and
+upon the explanation he will be able to give of his movements. It is
+understood that Mr. Boyd leaves one son, his only child, who is now in
+London.
+
+"We shall continue to issue editions of 'The Little Busy Bee' until
+midnight, in which further particulars will be given of this strange
+and most mysterious murder."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                     THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.
+
+
+Inspector Robson, being on night duty, was not present at the Bishop
+Street Police Station when the reporter of "The Little Busy Bee" gave
+information of the murder. Aunt Rob had had a busy day; while
+admitting that her son-in-law was very weak, she insisted that he
+would have a greater chance of getting well in a short time if he were
+removed from his lodgings to their home. "It's his proper place," she
+said, "and I won't rest till I get him there." She argued with the
+doctor, one of the old school, who shook his head; she continued to
+argue with him, and he continued to shake his head. This exasperated
+her.
+
+"I suppose, doctor," she said, with freezing politeness, "you won't
+allow that women ought to have opinions."
+
+"Not medical opinions," he replied.
+
+"He may shake his head till he shakes it off," she said privately to
+Uncle Rob, "but he won't convince _me_." He smiled an admission of
+this declaration. "And look at Florence," she continued; "the poor
+girl is being worn to skin and bone. We shall have her down
+presently."
+
+"But is it safe to move him, mother?" asked Florence, who, next to
+Reginald's recovery to health, desired nothing so much as a return to
+the dear old home.
+
+"My darling child," said Aunt Rob, "when did you know me to be wrong?
+Ask father how much I've cost him for doctors since we've been
+married. I nursed you through the whooping cough and scarlatina
+without a doctor, and are you any the worse for it? I know as much as
+a good many of them by this time. There are some doctors who won't
+allow you to suggest a single thing. The moment you do they're up in
+arms. 'What business have _you_ to know?' they think. This is one of
+that kind. Reginald is my son now, and I'm doing by him as I'd do by
+you."
+
+The upshot was, all preparations being made, that Reginald was moved
+on Saturday morning, and bore the removal well. When Florence saw him
+sleeping calmly in her own room she cried for joy.
+
+"It's like old times, mother," she said, tenderly.
+
+Aunt Rob smiled a little sadly; when a daughter is married it can
+never be again quite like old times in the home in which she was born
+and reared. Something is missing, something gone. It is not that the
+old love is dead, but that a new love is by its side, with new hopes,
+and mayhap new fears, to make up the fulness of life. The mother looks
+back upon her own young days, and realises now what she did not think
+of then, that the child she nestled at her bosom is going through the
+changes she has experienced; and so, if her daughter is happily mated,
+she thanks God--but now and then a wistful sigh escapes her.
+
+In the afternoon Dick came to see them, and they chatted in the
+sitting room in which they had passed so many happy hours. He was not
+in a bright mood; dreading every minute that the murder would be
+discovered and made public, he felt that it would be almost a relief
+when the cloud burst, as burst it must before long. Knowing what he
+knew, the suspense was maddening.
+
+"Now, Dick," said Aunt Rob, "I've got something to say to you.
+Reginald and Florence are here, as you know, but that doesn't make any
+difference in your room. There it is, ready for you, as it has been
+all through, and I shall begin to think there's some secret reason for
+your keeping away from us if you don't occupy it at once. I'll take no
+denial, Dick."
+
+"Let us wait a bit, aunt," said Dick. "I'll sleep here now and then,
+and take my meals here, but it wouldn't be fair to Mrs. Pond for me to
+run away after having been in her house only a few days. So, like the
+kind dear soul that you are, let it remain as it is for a little
+while. What's that?"
+
+It was a newsboy shouting at the top of his voice, and selling copies
+of "The Little Busy Bee" as fast as he could hand them out.
+
+"It's a murder!" cried Aunt Rob. "And do you hear that? Hark!
+'Horrible discovery!' Merciful heavens! 'Catchpole Square!' Where
+Reginald's father lives!"
+
+The two men ran out of the house like mad, and were just in time to
+tear the last copy from the boy's hands. A glance at the headlines was
+sufficient.
+
+"You were right, Dick, you were right," said Uncle Rob. "Samuel Boyd's
+murdered!"
+
+They looked at each other with white faces.
+
+"Found dead in his bed! Strangled! We must keep it from them at home,
+Dick."
+
+"Impossible, uncle. Listen--there's another boy shouting it out.
+Let's get back to the house."
+
+They read as they walked, Uncle Rob holding the paper, and Dick
+looking over his shoulder.
+
+"What is it--what is it?" cried Aunt Rob, meeting them in the passage.
+
+"If it's true, it's murder," said Uncle Rob. "Come into the room, and
+shut the door. Speak low. Is Florence upstairs?"
+
+"Yes. Wait a minute." She stepped softly to the room above, and
+quickly returned. "Reginald is dozing, and Florence has fallen asleep
+in her chair. The poor child is tired out. Murder! Where? In Catchpole
+Square?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Reginald's father?"
+
+"Yes." She uttered a cry of horror. "I must go to the office at once."
+
+"Dick! You're not going, too?"
+
+"I can't stop, aunt. I must go with uncle."
+
+He was in a fever of impatience to get out of the house.
+
+"Do what you can, mother, to keep it from Florence," said Uncle Rob,
+hurriedly. "If it comes to her ears tell her we've gone to see about
+it. Now, then, Dick."
+
+"Leave me the paper, father. How horrible! How horrible!"
+
+"Here it is; don't let Florence see it. We'll get another as we go
+along." As they hastened to Bishop Street Station he said, "This is a
+bad business, Dick."
+
+"A frightful business."
+
+"I wonder if Mr. Boyd made a will."
+
+"Ah, I wonder."
+
+"If he hasn't his money falls to Reginald. The chances are, though,
+that there's a will, disinheriting him."
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Dick.
+
+"Don't you?" his uncle asked, in return.
+
+"I don't know what to think. Time will show."
+
+"It will show a good many things. It's got to show what has become of
+Abel Death. I'm sorry for his wife and that poor little girl."
+
+"I'm sorry for a good many people," said Dick. His uncle cast a
+hurried look at him. "I don't mean anything. My head's in a whirl."
+
+"No wonder. There's another boy shouting the news. Run after him and
+get a paper."
+
+They both raced, and bought two copies. The boy's face was beaming.
+
+"He's happy enough," said Inspector Robson.
+
+At the police station they learned that two constables had been sent
+to Catchpole Square to ascertain whether the news was true.
+
+"I've given them instructions," said the day inspector, "if they can't
+get into the house by the front door, to scale the wall at the back. I
+can't say I like the way this case has been got up. Those newspaper
+men are getting too meddlesome altogether."
+
+"But if it's true," suggested Inspector Robson.
+
+"That will make it all the worse for us," grumbled the day inspector.
+"The next thing the papers will do will be to start a Scotland Yard of
+their own. The fact is, the police haven't got power enough; we
+daren't move without proof positive. It's all very well to talk of the
+liberty of the subject, but it's my opinion the subject's got more
+liberty than it has a right to have. I'll give you an instance. I know
+a man who is as mad as mad can be--a dangerous chap, with a
+bloodthirsty eye, carries knives, and looks at you as if he'd like to
+murder you. But we daren't touch him. Why? Because nobody charges him.
+When he sticks a knife into somebody we can lay our hands on him, but
+not till then; so we've got to wait till mischiefs done. Then they'll
+prove him mad, and he'll be made comfortable for life. There's this
+affair; the public will be down on us for not being the first to make
+the discovery. _We_ can't move, but a newspaper man can. It's like
+taking the bread out of our mouths."
+
+Inspector Robson made no comment, but offered advice.
+
+"If I were in your place I should send three or four more constables
+to Catchpole Square. Deadman's Court is a narrow thoroughfare, and
+there'll be a rush of people to stare at the house. There should be a
+guard back and front. I'm going there now to have a look round."
+
+"I'll send the men after you," said the day inspector, "instanter."
+
+Off they hurried to Catchpole Square, where they found that a great
+many sight-seers had already gathered, of whom only a few at a time
+were allowed to enter to stare up at the windows of Samuel Boyd's
+house, a constable being stationed at the entrance of Deadman's Court
+to guard the passage. Inspector Robson asked this officer where the
+other constable was.
+
+"Gone to the station, sir, for further instructions," replied the
+constable, whose name was Filey.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Simmons, sir. We was detailed together."
+
+"Have you been in the house?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you get in?"
+
+"Over the wall, at the back. We borrowed a ladder, and Simmons mounted
+and got over, while I kept watch outside."
+
+"What did he find?"
+
+"The body, sir, just as the paper describes."
+
+"Did you get into the house the same way as Simmons?"
+
+"No, sir. He found the key of the street door hanging on a cord in Mr.
+Boyd's bedroom, and he came out that way and let me in."
+
+At this point four constables from the station appeared on the scene,
+Applebee among them.
+
+"Who has the key of the street door?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"Give it to me. I knew Mr. Boyd by sight, and so did you, Applebee."
+
+"Could pick him out of a thousand, sir."
+
+"And you, Dick, were intimately acquainted with him. We'll go in and
+see the body. By the way, Filey, was the street door chained and
+bolted when Simmons unlocked it?"
+
+"I never asked him. Here he is, sir; he can answer for himself."
+
+Constable Simmons joined the group, and Inspector Robson repeated the
+question.
+
+"Neither locked _nor_ bolted, sir," he replied.
+
+Inspector Robson drew Dick aside, and said, "That's a suspicious
+circumstance, Dick. The murderer got in by the back entrance, and got
+out by the front. I argue it this way. He gets in, he kills the man,
+he finds the key of the street door in the bedroom, he goes down,
+unchains, unbolts, and unlocks the door. He then returns to the
+bedroom and fastens the key on the cord, goes down again and lets
+himself out. It seems to prove that the murder was committed by a
+novice."
+
+Dick made no remark. He recollected that Mrs. Death had not said
+anything in the police station of Reginald's visit to his father in
+the afternoon, and of his having a second key to the street door. That
+information had been given exclusively to Dick by Mrs. Death in
+Draper's Mews; it would come out presently, of course, but he would
+not utter a word to throw the shadow of a suspicion on Reginald. "A
+nice treacherous part I'm playing," he thought, "but I must go on with
+it. God knows how things will turn out."
+
+There were some twenty or thirty persons in the Square; a few were
+airing theories concerning the murder, and recalling other crimes as
+mysterious and thrilling; one man was boasting that he had seen every
+house in London in which a murder had been committed during the last
+forty years; the majority were silent, and appeared to derive a creepy
+enjoyment by simply staring at the walls and windows. A journalist was
+jotting down everything he heard that could be incorporated into an
+article. Two newspaper artists were sketching, and one of these came
+forward and asked Inspector Robson if he would kindly point out the
+window of the room in which the body was lying. He replied that he did
+not know. The other artist, observing that the Inspector had a key in
+his hand, inquired if it belonged to the house.
+
+"Key of the street door," said the inspector, whereupon the artist
+immediately took a sketch of it, and wrote beneath, "Key of the Street
+Door by which the Murderer Made his Escape."
+
+"We go in for realism," he said, as with a few skilful touches he
+limned the faces of Inspector Robson, Constable Applebee, and Dick on
+his sketching pad. "Nothing tickles the public so much as sketches
+from real life in pen and pencil. We live in a melodramatic age, and
+must go with the times. I belong to 'The Illustrated Afternoon.' Now I
+call these speaking likenesses. I take it you belong to the force, and
+are here upon official business. May I inquire your name, or shall I
+call it the Portrait of a Gentleman who Carried the Street Door Key?"
+
+With no good grace Inspector Robson gave his name, which was placed
+beneath his portrait. Then Applebee was asked for _his_ name, and it
+was given more willingly. The worthy constable had no objection to his
+features appearing in "The Illustrated Afternoon"; the picture would
+be preserved in the family as an heirloom.
+
+"And yours?" inquired the artist, of Dick.
+
+"Private person," said Dick.
+
+"Thank you," said the artist, and wrote beneath the portrait, "Private
+Person who, for Unexplained Reasons, Declined to Give his Name."
+
+The insertion of the key in the lock caused much excitement, and all
+the artillery of the press was brought to bear upon the inspector. The
+industrious journalists advanced cogent reasons why they should be let
+into the house; they begged, they clamoured, but they could not
+convince the obdurate inspector.
+
+"Very sorry, gentlemen," he said, "but it can't be allowed."
+
+He could not, however, prevent them from obtaining a glimpse of the
+dark passage, and this glimpse was quite sufficient to enable them to
+give a vivid description of the walls, the staircase, and the umbrella
+stand with one umbrella in it, which the eagle eye of the smarter of
+the artists transferred like lightning to his pad. It was an
+interesting feature in his article, "The Murdered Man's Umbrella."
+There was great disappointment among the group outside when the door
+was closed upon them.
+
+"You've been up these stairs often enough, Dick," said Inspector
+Robson. "Take us to the room."
+
+His eyes opened wide when they reached the office, and both he and
+Constable Applebee stared around in amazement.
+
+"Did you ever see anything like this, Applebee?"
+
+"Never, sir, out of a play."
+
+They spoke in hushed voices.
+
+Dick could not have explained why he counted the bottles of wine. It
+was done mechanically, and without motive, but it gave him a surprise.
+"Seventy-five bottles," he thought. "I'll take my oath that when I
+counted them the night before last, there were seventy-six."
+
+"Where's the bedroom, Dick?" whispered the inspector.
+
+Dick opened the door, and creeping in, they stood looking down upon
+the dead face. In this awful presence they were dumb. Stepping very
+softly they returned to the office. Then Inspector Robson spoke.
+
+"It's Samuel Boyd. What do you say, Applebee--do you recognise the
+features?"
+
+"I'll swear to the man, sir."
+
+"And you, Dick?"
+
+"There can be no doubt of it."
+
+"The coroner must be informed. Go and see who's knocking at the street
+door, Applebee. Don't let any one in." The constable departed on his
+errand. "It's a clear case, Dick. I wouldn't say so to any one but
+you, and we must keep our own counsel. The name of the murderer of
+Samuel Boyd is Abel Death. Now we know why he's keeping out of the
+way. He's got a long start of us. Here's Applebee coming back. Not a
+word. Who is it, Applebee?"
+
+"Mrs. Death and her little girl, sir. She's half distracted, and tried
+to force her way in."
+
+"We've seen what we came to see," said Inspector Robson, "and no
+person must be admitted into the house. You will keep in the Square
+to-night, Applebee. I'll put another man on your beat."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+The moment they emerged into the Square Gracie ran to Dick and took
+his hand. An infinite pity filled his heart as he looked down at her
+pallid, mournful face.
+
+"It's all right now, mother," she said, hoarsely. "Dick'll stand up
+for us."
+
+"Is it true, sir, is it true?" cried Mrs. Death, a wild terror in her
+eyes. "We've run here as fast as we could."
+
+"It is unhappily true," he answered.
+
+"Then where's my husband? Do you know what they're saying? That he
+murdered Mr. Boyd! They lie--they lie! Oh, my God! Is there any
+justice in the world?"
+
+"Don't make a disturbance, Mrs. Death," said Inspector Robson, very
+kindly. "I am truly sorry for you, but you can do no good by coming
+here."
+
+"Where else should I come, sir?" she asked, her tears falling fast.
+"Mr. Boyd is the only man who can tell me what has become of my
+husband, and he's dead, you say. Who killed him? What a wicked
+world--oh what a wicked, wicked world! Haven't I enough to bear
+without this being thrown in my teeth?"
+
+"Don't take on so, mother," said Gracie, in a dull, apathetic voice,
+but Dick understood how great her inward suffering was by the
+convulsive twining of her little fingers round his. "It's all right
+now we've got Dick. You're our friend, ain't you, Dick?"
+
+"May they be struck down dead for their lies!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "How
+dare they, how dare they accuse my poor husband, who never raised his
+hand against a living creature!"
+
+"Do these people live in your neighbourhood?" asked Inspector Robson.
+
+"Yes, sir; they do."
+
+"They should be warned not to be so free with their tongues, or they
+may get themselves in trouble. Can you point them out?"
+
+"I can show them you," said Gracie, answering for her mother.
+
+"Go with her," said Inspector Robson to Dick, in a low tone, "and give
+her neighbours a caution. The poor woman has something yet worse in
+store for her. Then go home to Aunt Rob and Florence, and remain there
+to-night. They need a man's support and sympathy, and my duties will
+chain me to the office."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Gracie, whose sharp ears caught every word,
+"you're ever so good to us." A sudden tightening of her hand on Dick's
+caused him to look up, and he saw Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"I have heard what has passed," said the doctor, addressing himself to
+Inspector Robson, "and shall be glad to offer my services in the
+interests of humanity--the in-te-rests of hu-ma-ni-ty."
+
+"Who may you be, sir?" inquired Inspector Robson.
+
+"I am Dr. Vinsen. Our friends here have some knowledge of me, I
+believe." He shed a benevolent smile around. "This is a most shocking
+murder. It would be worth your while, Mr. Remington, if you could
+discover the perpetrator of the frightful crime, and so relieve this
+unfortunate woman's distress. It shall be done, madam, it shall be
+done. Rely upon me. Let not the criminal hope that his guilt can be
+for ever hidden. There is an All-seeing Eye--Divine justice will
+overtake him--will o-ver-take him. Is that the house in which the
+victim lies?"
+
+"Yes," said Dick.
+
+"A singular place for a man to live in--and die in. Now, my dear
+madam, if you wish me to admonish these slanderers I am ready to
+accompany you."
+
+"Dick's going to speak to 'em," said Gracie.
+
+"Oh, Dick's going to speak to them. And you would rather Dick did it?"
+
+"Yes, if you please, sir."
+
+"Well, then, Dick it shall be. I have no doubt he will do it as well
+as myself--better, perhaps, he being a literary character." There was
+a faint twinkle in his sleepy eyes. "But you have no objection to my
+walking a little way with your mother, I hope? Mr. Inspector, have you
+any opinion----"
+
+"Don't ask me for opinions," interrupted Inspector Robson.
+
+"Pardon my indiscretion, but one's natural curiosity, you know. There
+will be an inquest?"
+
+"Of course there will be an inquest."
+
+"Of course--_of_ course. Good day, Mr. Inspector, I am greatly obliged
+to you. Now, my dear madam."
+
+They walked out of Deadman's Court, Mrs. Death and Dr. Vinsen in
+front, Dick and Gracie in the rear, at whom now and then the doctor,
+his head over his shoulder, cast an encouraging smile.
+
+"Do you like him, Dick?" asked Gracie.
+
+"No, I don't," he replied, "and I don't know why."
+
+"_I_ do," said Gracie. "He's so slimy."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                     A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.
+
+
+Draper's Mews and its purlieus were on fire with excitement, raised by
+a spark dropped by a vicious beetle-browed coster, whose chronic state
+for years past had been too much beer, and liquor of a worse kind.
+Mrs. Death's neighbours were by no means unfavourably disposed towards
+her and her family. The kindness of the poor to the poor is
+proverbial, and there is much less friction in the way of social
+scandal among the lower classes than among those of higher rank. This
+was exemplified in Draper's Mews, where the Death family had long
+resided, and had fought life's bitter battle in amity with all around
+them. Now and then, of course, small differences had cropped up, but
+they were soon got over, and there was no serious disturbance of
+friendly relations. To this happy state of things there was, however,
+an exception. It happened in this way.
+
+Two or three years ago, on a bright summer day, the beetle-browed
+coster wheeled his barrow through the poor neighbourhood, disposing of
+his stock of early cherries at fourpence the standard pound. Children
+who had a halfpenny or a penny to spare, beggared themselves
+incontinently, and walked about with cherry ear-rings dangling in
+their ears, while some made teapots with fruit and stalks, and
+refreshed themselves with imaginary cups of the finest leaf of China.
+Abel Death stood by, and looking at the children thought of his own,
+and fingered the few loose coppers in his pocket. Strange that fruit
+so tempting and young--the cherries were whitehearts, with the
+daintiest blush on their innocent cheeks--should have been destined to
+bring sorrow to the hearts of those who were dear to the poor clerk!
+But in this reflection we must not forget the apple in the Garden of
+Eden.
+
+Unable to resist the temptation Abel Death bought half a pound of the
+pretty things, and had received and paid for them, when he noticed an
+ugly piece of lead at the bottom of the scale in which the fruit was
+weighed. What made the matter worse was that on the coster's barrow
+was displayed an announcement in blazing letters of vermilion, "Come
+to the Honest Shop for Full Weight." Which teaches a lesson as to the
+faith we should place in boisterous professions. Abel Death
+remonstrated, the coster slanged and bullied, there was a row and a
+growling crowd, some of whom had been defrauded in like manner, and
+among the crowd an inspector of weights and measures, who, backed by a
+constable, forthwith brought before the magistrate the cheat, the
+barrow (the coster wheeling it), the innocent cherries, and the scales
+with the piece of lead attached to the wrong balance. The moving
+scene, with its animated audience laughing, babbling, explaining at
+the heels of the principal actors in the drama, was almost as good a
+show as a Punch and Judy. With tears in his eyes, which he wiped away
+with his cuff, the coster declared that he'd take his oath he didn't
+know how the piece of lead could have got on the bottom of the scale,
+all he could say was that some one who had a down on him must have put
+it there to get him in trouble, he'd like to find out the bloke, that
+he would, he'd make it hot for him; and, despite this whining defence,
+was fined, would not pay the fine, and went to prison for seven days,
+whimpering as he was led from the court, "Wot's the use of a cove
+tryin' to git a honest livin'?"
+
+The result of this swift stroke of justice was a mortal enmity against
+Abel Death. He proclaimed a vendetta, and waited for his chance,
+meanwhile avenging himself by kicking and cuffing the younger members
+of the Death family when he met them, and encouraging his children to
+do the same. The chance came with the disappearance of Abel Death and
+the discovery of the murder of Samuel Boyd. Forthwith he set light to
+a fire which spread with startling rapidity, and he went about
+instilling his poison into the ears of Mrs. Death's neighbours. Hence
+her agony of mind.
+
+Dick traced the rumours to their fountain head, found the man, talked
+to him, argued with him--in vain. It was a public matter, and the
+usual crowd collected.
+
+"Look 'ere," cried the coster, to Dick, "we don't want none o' _your_
+cheek, we don't. Who are you, I'd like to know, puttin' _your_ spoke
+in? A innercent man, is 'e? Looks like it, don't it? Wot's the
+innercent man a-keepin' out of the way for? Why don't 'e come 'ome?
+Tell me that? 'Ere, I'll wait till you've made up somethink, somethink
+tasty, yer know. Take yer time. Wot! Ain't got a bloomin' word to say
+for yerself? Wot do you think?" Appealing to the people surrounding
+them. "'E's a nice sort o' chap to come palaverin' to me, ain't 'e?"
+
+The listeners were not all of one mind, many of them, indeed, being
+mindless. Some took one side, some took another, while Mrs. Death and
+Gracie stood by, pitiful, white-faced spectators of the scene.
+
+"Why, it's as clear as mud," continued the coster. "The sneakin' thief
+killed 'is master, and then laid 'ands on everythink 'e could collar,
+and cut away. Put them things together, and there you are, yer know."
+
+"I know where _you'll_ be," said Dick, speaking in his best judicial
+manner, "if you're not careful. It won't be the first time you've got
+yourself in trouble." The shot told, and the listeners wavered. "We're
+Englishmen, I believe," said Dick, following up his advantage. "We
+don't carry knives like the Italians, or fight with our legs like the
+French, and we're not made in Germany." This cosmopolitan reference
+was an immense hit, and two or three politicians said "Hear, hear!"
+Dick went on. "We fight with our fists, and we don't hit a man when
+he's down. What we insist upon is fair play; that's what we wave our
+flag for--fair play. Look at Mrs. Death, a hard-working, respectable
+woman, that's lived among you all these years, and never done one of
+you an ill turn. Look at her innocent children that this great hulking
+brute is flinging stones at. It's cowardly, sneaking work. Oh, I'm not
+afraid of you, my man; if you lift your hand against me I'll give you
+something to remember me by. You haven't the pluck to hit one of your
+own size; you only hit women and children. I don't believe you've got
+a drop of English blood in your cowardly carcase." With sparkling eyes
+and glowing face he turned to the crowd. "I appeal to a jury of
+English men and women. Is what this brute is doing manly, is it fair,
+is it English--that's the point, is it English?"
+
+There was no doubt now as to the sympathy. It went out full and free
+to Mrs. Death and Gracie, who stood, as it were, in the dock, with the
+beetle-browed, sodden-faced coster accusing them, and this generous,
+bright-eyed, open-faced young fellow defending them. A woman who had a
+good recollection of the cherry incident, called out, "Cherries!" and
+they all began to laugh. This laughter completely settled the matter;
+the victory was won. The coster slunk off.
+
+Dick was overwhelmed with congratulations, and Mrs. Death cast
+grateful glances at him, and wistful glances at her old friends and
+neighbours. They answered the mute appeal by thronging about her. To
+her they said, "Never you mind, my dear, we'll see you righted." And
+to Dick, "You spoke up like a man, sir, and we're proud of you." Which
+he capped, rather vaguely, by retorting, "I'm proud of _you_. You're
+the sort of women that have made England what it is. Wives and
+mothers, that's what _you_ are." A shrill voice called out, "Not all
+of us, sir," amid shouts of laughter, which caused Dick to add, "Then
+I hope you soon _will_ be." This happy rejoinder won him the admiring
+glances of all the single women, many of whom (as yet unattached)
+breathed silent aspirations that heaven would send them such a man. At
+the worst of times Dick was a good-looking young fellow; seen now at
+his best, glowing with fervour, and espousing the cause of the weak,
+he was positively handsome. What wonder that maiden hearts were
+fluttering! He could have picked and chosen.
+
+Dr. Vinsen had been an amused witness of the encounter.
+
+"My young friend," he said, "my dear young friend, victorious again,
+always victorious; and in eloquence a Demosthenes. Accept my
+congratulations. Mrs. Death, take your little girl home and put her to
+bed, then apply a hot linseed poultice. I will call upon you to-morrow
+morning. Mr. Dick Remington--pardon the familiarity, but Dick is so
+appropriate--I salute you--sal-ute you."
+
+Dick nodded good-day, and turned off with Gracie.
+
+"Oh, Dick," she said, fondling his hand, "you're splendid, splendid!"
+No knight of chivalry in "the good old times" (which were much worse
+than the present) ever inspired deeper admiration in the breast of
+lady fair than Dick did in the breast of this poor little waif. "I
+told you, mother, it would be all right if we had Dick with us."
+
+"Yes, you did, dear."
+
+"Don't I wish I was old enough to walk out with you!" said Gracie.
+
+"How do you know I'm not a married man, Gracie?" he asked.
+
+"Go along!" she replied, with a touch of scorn. "As if I don't know
+the married ones by only looking at 'em!"
+
+"You mustn't mind her foolishness, sir," said Mrs. Death. "She says
+the silliest things! We're very grateful to you, sir."
+
+"Oh, nonsense," he said, "anyone else would have done the same."
+
+"They wouldn't," said Gracie. "They couldn't."
+
+With a kind pressure of their hands he turned in the direction of Aunt
+Rob's house, where a very different task awaited him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                     REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.
+
+
+As it was in Draper's Mews so was it in other parts of the metropolis.
+The murder was talked of everywhere, and in some mysterious way the
+disappearance of Abel Death was associated with it. The wildest
+speculations were indulged in. He had gone to Australia, he had gone
+to America, he had never left England at all, he had taken with him an
+enormous sum of money which he had found in the house in Catchpole
+Square, he had so disguised himself that his own wife and children
+would not have known him, he had been seen in various parts of London.
+He was generally condemned, and had no defenders. Had his fate, if
+caught and in the clutches of the law, depended upon the public vote,
+his doom would have been sealed.
+
+So was it with Mrs. Pond and Mrs. Applebee, who could talk upon no
+other subject.
+
+"Applebee says that when Inspector Robson saw the body he turned as
+white as a ghost."
+
+"Why should he?" asked Mrs. Pond. "It's not the first body he's seen
+by many."
+
+"Why, don't you know, my dear," said Mrs. Applebee, "that his
+daughter's married to Mr. Boyd's son?"
+
+"No, I never heard of it."
+
+Mrs. Applebee bristled with importance. "They were married only a few
+weeks ago, and they do say it was a runaway match. Off they went one
+morning, arm in arm, to the registrar's office, and she comes home
+half an hour afterwards, and says, 'Mother, I'm married to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd.' 'Married, Florence!' cries Mrs. Robson, and bursts
+into tears.
+
+"Florence!" said Mrs. Pond, in dismay, thinking of the handkerchief.
+
+"That's her name, my dear, and a pretty girl I'm told. She's a lucky
+one. Applebee says if Mr. Boyd hasn't made a will her husband'll come
+in for everything. Mr. Boyd must have been worth piles of money. Let's
+hope it'll do somebody good; it never did while he was alive. It's
+curious that your lodger, Mr. Remington, is mixed up in it, too. He's
+Inspector Robson's nephew, you know; him and Miss Florence was brought
+up together. He's been hanging about Catchpole Square a good deal the
+last week or two; in the dead of night, too. Applebee says he'd like
+to get hold of that woman that slipped through his hands on the night
+of the fog. He's got an idea that she must have something to do with
+the murder."
+
+"But doesn't he think Abel Death did it?" asked Mrs. Pond, faintly.
+
+"Oh, yes, he thinks that, as everybody does, but the woman might be
+mixed up with it somehow. Just listen to those boys shouting out
+another edition. What are they calling out? Fresh discoveries! I must
+get a paper; that'll be the third I've bought to-day. Perhaps they've
+caught Abel Death. The man on 'The Illustrated Afternoon' took
+Applebee's portrait, and I'm dying to see it. I wouldn't miss it for
+anything."
+
+There was, of course, but one subject in Aunt Rob's mind when Dick
+presented himself. She told him that Reginald was in a terrible state.
+
+"I couldn't stop the boys coming into the street," she said, "and
+Reginald heard them. Florence ran down to me all in a flutter, and
+asked if I didn't hear them calling out something about a murder in
+Catchpole Square, and what was it? Then she caught sight of the paper
+that I was trying to hide, and when she looked at it she was
+frightened out of her life. We did all we could to keep it from
+Reginald, but he couldn't help seeing from our faces that there was
+something serious the matter. At last there was nothing for it but to
+tell him, and we did it as gently as we could. But the shock was
+dreadful; he sobbed like a little child. Then he cried that he must go
+to the house, and we had almost to use force to prevent him leaving
+his bed. Florence threw her arms round him, and begged and implored so
+that he had to give in. We tried to comfort him by saying that it
+mightn't be true, that it might be another man who was murdered, and
+that you and Uncle Rob had gone to see about it. I'm afraid to ask you
+if it's true, Dick."
+
+"It is too true," he replied, and rapidly related all that had passed
+since he and Uncle Rob had left her. She listened horror-struck, and
+when he finished could hardly find voice to ask who he thought was the
+murderer.
+
+"I don't know what to think," he said.
+
+"There can be only one man," she said, but he stopped her from
+proceeding.
+
+"Don't let's talk about it just now, aunt. There are a dozen men who
+would rather see Samuel Boyd dead than alive. He had plenty of
+enemies, and he deserved to have. If Reginald knew I was here he would
+want to see me."
+
+"He made me promise the moment either of you came back to bring you up
+to him."
+
+"We'll go at once. There must be no further concealment."
+
+Reginald was sitting up in bed, very white and haggard.
+
+"I thought I heard voices," he said when they entered the room. "Have
+you been there?"
+
+"Yes, I have been there," said Dick.
+
+"Did you see him? Speak--speak!"
+
+"I saw him."
+
+"You saw him! Well--well?"
+
+"He is dead."
+
+"My God! My God! My father!--Dead! And he died at enmity with me!"
+groaned Reginald, sinking down in bed, and turning his face to the
+wall. They did not disturb him--did not dare to speak. "Is it certain
+that he was murdered," he said presently in a broken voice, "that he
+did not die a natural death?"
+
+"I fear there is no doubt."
+
+"Strangled, the paper says--strangled!" Dick was silent. "Strangled in
+his sleep! Without having time to think, to pray! Oh, Florence, what
+shame, what misery I have brought upon you!"
+
+"It is an awful misfortune, Reginald, dear," said Florence, her arms
+round his neck, her face nestled close to his, "and it makes us all
+very unhappy. But there is no shame in it, dearest."
+
+"There is, there is," he moaned. "Shame, shame--misery and disgrace!"
+
+Dick, observing him closely, strove to arrive at some conclusion,
+apart from the evidence in his possession, with respect to his
+complicity in the terrible deed. Innocent or guilty, the shock of the
+news could have produced no other effect than was shown in the white
+face, the shaking body, the sobbing voice. There was another interval
+of silence, which, again, Reginald was the first to break. "Tell me
+everything."
+
+"You know the worst," said Dick, "let us wait till you are stronger."
+
+"No," cried Reginald, "I cannot wait. You must tell me
+everything--now, here! Wait? With those cries ringing in my ears?
+Don't you hear them? Hark!" They listened, and heard nothing. It was
+the spiritual echo of the ominous sounds that was in Reginald's ears.
+"Is anyone suspected? Is there any clue? Are not the people speaking
+about it in the streets?"
+
+"There are all sorts of rumours," said Dick, reluctantly. "When Uncle
+Rob and I went into the house we found everything as the papers
+describe. Nothing seems to have been taken away, but of course we
+can't be positive on that point yet. There were no signs of a
+struggle."
+
+"The paper speaks of bloody footprints," said Reginald, a white fear
+in his eyes.
+
+"There are signs of them," said Dick, with a guilty tremor.
+
+"And no blood on my--my father's body, nor in the bed?"
+
+"None."
+
+"The house has been broken into?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The man who broke into it did the deed," said Reginald, in a low,
+musing tone; then, after a pause, "But the blood--the blood! How to
+account for that? How did you get into the house?"
+
+"Through the front door."
+
+"But--the key!" exclaimed Reginald, and Dick fancied he detected signs
+of confusion. "Where did you get the key from?"
+
+"A policeman scaled the wall at the back of the house, and entered
+through the broken window. He found the key in your father's room, and
+he came down and let us in."
+
+"He had to draw the bolts?"
+
+"The door was not bolted, and the chain was not up."
+
+"Then my father couldn't----," said Reginald, and suddenly checked
+himself. "Go on."
+
+"When Uncle Rob and I left the house Mrs. Death and her little girl
+were in the square; she had tried to force herself into the house, but
+the policeman kept her back. You know from the papers that her husband
+has not been seen since Friday week."
+
+"Until I read it in this paper an hour ago," said Reginald, pointing
+to the copy of "The Little Busy Bee" that lay on the bed, "I was in
+ignorance of it. I cannot understand his disappearance; it is a
+mystery. The last I saw of him was on the afternoon of that very
+Friday, when I went to see my father in Catchpole Square."
+
+"Yes?" said Dick, eagerly, greatly relieved at this candid confession.
+It was a gleam of comfort.
+
+"My father was not at home, and I came away." He pressed his hand upon
+his eyes, and a long silence ensued. They looked at him anxiously, and
+Florence, her finger at her lips, warned them not to speak. Removing
+his hand, he proceeded: "I ought to tell you now why I went to see my
+father. Had I been well I should have spoken of it before. Even you,
+Florence, have not heard what I am about to say. Dick, I can trust you
+not to speak of this to any one."
+
+"You may trust me thoroughly, Reginald."
+
+"I know, I know. In my dear wife's eyes you are the soul of honour and
+faithfulness, and in my eyes, also, Dick. It is my hope that we shall
+always be firm friends."
+
+With but one thought in his mind, the peace and happiness of the woman
+he loved, Dick answered, "And mine."
+
+"Thank you," said Reginald, gravely. "What I wish to tell you
+commences with my child-life. My mother, when she married my father,
+brought him a small fortune, and she had money, also, in her own
+right. Young as I was, I knew that she was not happy, and that there
+were differences between her and my father, arising partly from his
+endeavours to obtain the sole control of every shilling she possessed.
+There were probably other causes, but they did not come to my
+knowledge. My mother's refusal to comply with his demands was prompted
+by her solicitude for my future. She was the best of women, and never
+uttered one word of reproach against my father; she suffered in
+silence, as only women can, and she found some solace in the love she
+bore for me and in the love I bore for her. We were inseparable, and,
+occupying the home with my father, we lived a life apart from him. He
+had but one aim, the amassing of money, and there was no sympathy
+between us. I hope there are not many homes in which such estrangement
+exists. She died when I was ten, and I lost the one dear friend I had
+in the world. In our last embrace on her deathbed she said to me, in a
+whisper, 'Promise me that when you are a man--a happy man, I fervently
+pray--you will not become a money-lender.' I gave her the promise, and
+an abhorrence of the trade my father practised took deep root in me,
+and has grown stronger every year of my life. Over an open grave there
+should be no bitterness, and though my heart is sore I will strive to
+avoid it. My mother left me her little fortune, and appointed a
+trustee over whom, by ill chance, my father subsequently obtained
+great influence, and in the end had him completely in his power. This
+trustee died when I was twenty-two, and before then my inheritance was
+in my father's hands to deal with as he pleased. My mother's will was
+very precise. A certain sum every year was to be expended upon my
+education until I came of age, when the residue was to be handed to me
+to make a practical start in life. She named the schools and colleges
+in which I was to be educated, and when I was nineteen I was to spend
+the next two years in France and Germany and Italy, to perfect myself
+in the languages of those countries. It was at my option whether I
+remained abroad after I came of age, and, in point of fact, I did,
+returning home a year after the death of my trustee. You will see by
+these provisions that I was cut off entirely from the domestic and
+business life of my father, and I understood and appreciated her
+reasons when I became intimately acquainted with it--as I did when, my
+education completed, I returned to his home in Catchpole Square. I
+lived with him between two and three years, and during that time his
+one endeavour was to induce me to share the business with him, to obey
+his orders, to carry out his directions, to initiate myself into a
+system which I detested, into practices which I abhorred. We had
+numberless discussions and quarrels; he argued, he stormed, he
+threatened, and I steadily resisted him. At length matters came to a
+head, and I finally convinced him that I would not go his way, but
+would carve out a path for myself. 'Upon what kind of foundation will
+you carve out this path?' he asked. 'You will want money to keep
+yourself in idleness till you establish a position, and are able to
+pay for your livelihood.' 'I have it,' I replied. 'Indeed,' he said,
+'I was not aware of it. Have you some secret hoard of wealth which you
+have hidden from me?' 'I have my inheritance,' I said. He laughed in
+my face. 'Your inheritance!' he exclaimed. 'You haven't a shilling.
+Every penny of it, and more, has been spent upon your education and
+riotous living since your beautiful lady mother died.' The sneering
+reference to my dear mother angered me more than his statement that I
+was a beggar, and hot words passed between us, in the midst of which I
+left the room. The next day I returned to the subject, and said I had
+understood from my trustee that when I was twenty-one years of age I
+should come into a fortune of eight thousand pounds. 'He lied,' my
+father said. 'I have the papers and the calculations here in my safe.
+You can look them over if you like. I deal fair by every man, and I
+will deal fair by you, ungrateful as you have proved yourself to be. I
+could refuse to produce the papers for your private inspection, but I
+am honest and generous, and though all is at an end between us unless
+you consent to assist me in my business, I will satisfy you that your
+father is not a rogue. You are indebted to me a large sum of money,
+and I shall be happy to hear how soon you intend to pay it.' I replied
+that I would choose the humblest occupation rather than remain with
+him, and he took from his safe a mass of documents and said I must
+examine them in his presence. I did examine them, but could make
+nothing of them, the figures were so confusing. There were records of
+transactions into which my trustee had entered on my behalf, losses
+upon speculations, of charges for my education, of sums of money which
+had been sent to me from time to time for my personal expenses, of
+interest upon those advances, of interest upon other sums, of the cost
+of my board and lodging during the time I had lived at home with my
+father, of the small sums he had given me during the last two or three
+years, and of interest upon those sums. At the end of these documents
+there was a debit upon the total amount of twelve hundred pounds,
+which my father said I owed him. All this I saw as in a mist, but
+cunning as the figures were, there was no doubt in my mind that I had
+been defrauded, and by the last man in the world who should have
+inflicted this wrong upon me. What could I do but protest? I did
+protest. My father, putting the papers back in his safe, retorted that
+I was reflecting upon his honesty, that I was his enemy and had better
+go to law, and that he renounced me as his son. We had a bitter
+quarrel, which ended in my leaving his house, a beggar, to begin the
+world; and so strong were the feelings I entertained towards him, and
+so sensitive was I to the opprobrium which, in the minds of many
+people, was attached to the name of Boyd, that I determined to
+renounce it, as he had renounced me. Thus it was that you knew me only
+as Mr. Reginald; it caused me many a bitter pang to deceive you, and I
+was oppressed with doubts as to the wisdom of my resolve. All that is
+now at an end, however, and I ask your pardon for the deceit. Perhaps
+you have heard from Florence of the struggle I made to provide a home
+for her, and of my disappointment and despair at not seeing the way to
+its accomplishment. I thought much of the fraud of which I had been
+the victim, and the more I thought the more was I convinced that my
+father was retaining money which rightly belonged to me. At length it
+seemed to me that it was my duty to see him again upon the subject,
+and to make an earnest endeavour to obtain restitution. For my own
+sake, no. Had I not my dear Florence I think I should have left
+England, and have striven in another country to carve my way; but
+having seen her I could not, could not leave her. It was in pursuance
+of this resolution that I went to Catchpole Square last Friday week,
+and saw Abel Death, who informed me that my father was not at home.
+Now you know all."
+
+It was with almost breathless interest that Dick listened to this
+confession, and it was with a feeling of dismay that he heard the last
+words, "Now you know all." Did they know all? Not a word about the
+key, not a word about the second visit to his father late on that
+fatal Friday night!
+
+"Are people speaking about Abel Death?" asked Reginald, turning to
+Dick.
+
+"Yes. They are coupling his disappearance with the murder. A strong
+suspicion is entertained. His poor wife is nearly mad with grief."
+
+"Do you tell me he is suspected of the crime?" cried Reginald, in an
+excited tone.
+
+"Many suspect him."
+
+"What cruelty to defame an innocent man--what cruelty, what cruelty!"
+
+"Do you know for a certainty that he is innocent?" asked Dick.
+
+"That is a strange question, Dick. How can I be certain? Until the
+truth is known, how can any man be certain? I speak from my knowledge
+of his character. A drudge, working from hand to mouth. Alas! what
+misery and injustice this dreadful deed brings in its train!"
+
+"Reginald, dear," said Florence, gently, "you are exhausted. Do not
+talk any more. Rest a little. Dick will remain here, and will come up
+when you want him."
+
+"Yes, I am tired. You are a true friend, Dick. You will assist us, I
+know. Do all you can to avert suspicion from Abel Death. I must rest
+and think. There are so many things to think of--so many things!"
+
+He held out his hand to Dick, and then sank back in his bed and closed
+his eyes. There was nothing more to be said at present, and Dick and
+Aunt Rob stole softly to the room below.
+
+"Now, Dick," she said, "I am going to open my mind to you."
+
+"Do, aunt."
+
+"Has it occurred to you that in this trouble that has fallen upon
+Reginald he needs a man of business to act for him." Dick looked at
+her for an explanation. "A man of business," she repeated, "and a
+devoted friend, rolled into one. I am a practical woman as you know,
+Dick, and we mustn't lose sight of Reginald's interests--because his
+interests are Florence's now, and ours. He stands to-day in a very
+different position from what he did when he married Florence without
+our knowledge. Mr. Boyd's death is very shocking, and it will be a
+long time before we get over it; but after all it's not like losing
+one we loved. He's dead and gone, and the Lord have mercy upon him.
+The longer he lived the more mischief he'd have done, and the more
+poor people he'd have made miserable. It sounds hard, but it's the
+honest truth. I'm looking the thing straight in the face, and I feel
+that something ought to be done without delay."
+
+"What ought to be done, aunt?"
+
+"Well, Reginald is Mr. Boyd's only child, and there's that house in
+Catchpole Square, with any amount of valuable property in it, and no
+one to look after it. It mustn't be left to the mercy of strangers."
+
+"It ought not to be."
+
+"Reginald won't be able to stir out of the house for at least three or
+four days. Now, who's to attend to his interests? You. Who's to search
+for the will, supposing one was made--which with all my heart and soul
+I hope wasn't? You. Even if there is a will, leaving the money away
+from him, he can lay claim to the fortune his mother left him, for
+there isn't a shadow of doubt that he has been robbed of it. There's
+no one else with time on their hands that will act fair by him. You
+must be Reginald's man of business, Dick."
+
+"Some person certainly should represent him," said Dick, thoughtfully,
+"and I shall have no objection if he wishes it. But it must be done
+legally."
+
+"Of course it must. Do you know a solicitor?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"And I don't, but I think I can put you on the scent of a gentleman
+that will do for us. In High Street, about a dozen doors down on the
+left hand side from here, there's a brass plate with 'Mr. Lamb,
+Solicitor,' on it. Just step round, and ask Mr. Lamb if he'll be kind
+enough to come and see me on very particular business. While you're
+gone I'll say just three words to Reginald; I'll answer for it he'll
+not object."
+
+"You _are_ a practical woman, aunt," said Dick, putting on his hat.
+
+"Have you lived with us all these years without finding it out? Cut
+away, Dick."
+
+Away he went, and soon returned with Mr. Lamb, a very large gentleman
+with a very small practice; and being a gentleman with a very small
+practice he brought with him a capacious blue bag.
+
+"This is professional, Mr. Lamb," said Aunt Rob.
+
+"So I judge, madam, from your message," he answered, taking a seat,
+and pulling the strings of his blue bag with the air of a gentleman
+who could instantly produce any legal document she required.
+
+Aunt Rob then explained matters, and asked what Reginald's position
+was.
+
+"If there is no will, madam, he is heir at law," said Mr. Lamb.
+
+"Until a will is found can he enter into possession of the house?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"And being too ill to leave his bed, can he appoint some one to act
+for him?"
+
+"He has an indisputable right to appoint any person he pleases."
+
+"Then please draw up at once a paper to that effect, in as few words
+as possible."
+
+"At once, madam!" exclaimed Mr. Lamb, with a professional objection to
+a course so prompt and straightforward.
+
+"At once," said Aunt Rob, with decision. "This is an unusual case.
+There is the house with no one to take care of it, and here is my
+son-in-law upstairs, unable to leave his bed. If you cannot do what
+you want I must consult----"
+
+"Madam," said Mr. Lamb, hastily, "there is no occasion for you to
+consult another solicitor. I will draw out such an authority as you
+require, and it can be stamped on Monday. Favour me with the name of
+the attorney."
+
+"The attorney?" she said, in a tone of inquiry.
+
+"The gentleman whom Mr. Reginald Boyd appoints to act for him?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dick Remington. My nephew."
+
+The solicitor, recognising that Aunt Rob was not a woman to be trifled
+with, even by a solicitor, accepted the situation with a good grace,
+and set to work.
+
+"I have spoken to Reginald, Dick," said Aunt Rob, "and he consented
+gladly. It is to be a matter of business, mind that. We can't have you
+wasting your time for nothing."
+
+In due time the solicitor announced that the document was ready, and
+read it out to them, not quite to Aunt Rob's satisfaction, who shook
+her head at the number of words, and was only reconciled when Dick
+said it was all right.
+
+"It is in proper form and order," said Mr. Lamb, "though shorter than
+it should be."
+
+"The shorter the better," said Aunt Rob.
+
+He smiled sadly. "There is another thing Mr. Reginald Boyd should do,
+madam. He should take out letters of administration."
+
+"Is that a long job?" she asked.
+
+"No, madam, it is very simple, very simple."
+
+"Then let it be done immediately."
+
+"There are certain formalities, madam. With Mr. Reginald Boyd's
+permission we will attend to it on Monday. To this present power of
+attorney the signatures of two witnesses are necessary."
+
+"I'm one, and my nephew's another."
+
+"Your nephew, madam, being an interested party, is not available. Your
+signature will be valid, and there is probably a servant in the
+house."
+
+"Of course there is," said Aunt Rob, resentfully. "The law seems to me
+to be nothing but going round corners and taking wrong turnings
+purposely. Such a fuss and to-do about a signature I never heard."
+
+Mr. Lamb gave her a reproachful look. "It is for the protection of the
+individual, madam. The law is a thing to be thankful for."
+
+"_Is_ it?" she snapped.
+
+"Without law, madam," he said, in feeble protest, "society could not
+exist. We should be in a state of chaos."
+
+The formalities were soon concluded. Reginald signed, Aunt Rob signed,
+and the servant signed, though at the words, "This is your hand and
+seal," she trembled visibly. Then instructions were given for the
+taking out of letters of administration, and Mr. Lamb took his
+departure.
+
+"Your worthy aunt," he said, as Dick opened the street door for him,
+"is a very extraordinary woman. The manner in which she has rushed
+this business through is quite unique, and I am not sure, in the
+strict sense of the term, that it is exactly professional. I can only
+trust it will not be accepted as a precedent."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                     SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+
+From time to time there had been murders committed in London with
+details dismal and sordid enough to satisfy the most rabid appetites,
+but it was generally admitted that the great Catchpole Square Mystery
+outvied them all in just those elements of attraction which render
+crime so weirdly fascinating to the British public. Men and women in
+North Islington experienced a feeling akin to that which the bestowal
+of an unexpected dignity confers, and when they retired to bed were
+more than ordinarily careful about the fastening of locks and bolts.
+Timid wives woke in the middle of the night, and tremblingly asked
+their husbands whether they did not hear somebody creeping in the
+passages, and many a single woman shivered in her bed. Shopkeepers
+standing behind their counters bristled with it; blue-aproned
+butchers, knife in hand, called out their "Buy, buy, buy!" with a
+brisk and cheery ring; crossing sweepers touched their hats smartly to
+their patrons, and preceding them with the unnecessary broom as they
+swept nothing away, murmured the latest rumour; the lamplighters,
+usually a sad race, lighted the street lamps with unwonted alacrity;
+and the Saturday night beggars took their stands below the kerb in
+hopeful anticipation of a spurt in benevolence. Naturally it formed
+the staple news in the newspapers on Sunday and Monday, and all agreed
+that the excitement it had created was unparallelled in the records of
+the criminal calendar.
+
+"On Saturday evening," said "The Little Busy Bee" in its Monday's
+editions, "numbers of people wended their way to Catchpole Square from
+every part of the metropolis. Up till late the usually quiet streets
+resembled a Saturday night market, and there was an extraordinary
+demand for the literature of crime, with which the vendors of
+second-hand books had provided themselves. Towards midnight the human
+tide slackened, but even during the early hours of the morning there
+were many fresh arrivals. On Sunday the excitement was renewed, and it
+is calculated that seven or eight thousand persons must have visited
+the Square in the course of the day, many of whom seemed to regard the
+occasion as a picnic.
+
+"In our columns will be found picturesque accounts of incidents that
+came under the notice of our reporters, not the least amusing of which
+is that of the mother and father who brought with them a large family
+of children, and had come provided with food for a day's outing. They
+arrived at eleven in the morning, and at eleven at night were still
+there. They had been informed that when a murdered man was lying in
+his own bed unburied on the Day of Rest he was ordered to get up and
+dress himself when the church bells rang, and go to church to pray for
+his sins. If he disobeyed his soul was lost, and his ghost would
+appear on the roof at midnight, surrounded by flames and accompanied
+by the Evil One. 'Did he go to church?' asked our reporter, who, in a
+conversation with the woman late on Sunday night, elicited this
+curious piece of information. 'No,' replied the woman, 'and it's a bad
+day's work for him. I shouldn't like to be in his shoes.' The woman
+furthermore said that she would give anything to see the ghost at
+midnight on the roof, thus evincing small regard for Samuel Boyd's
+salvation. 'It would be a better show, wouldn't it?' she observed,
+with an eye to theatrical effect. 'I've never seen the Devil.' It is
+deplorable that in this age such silly superstitions should obtain
+credence, and that with numbers of people in different parts of the
+country the belief in witchcraft and in demoniacal demonstrations
+should still exist.
+
+"Secondary only in importance to the murder is the disappearance of
+Samuel Boyd's clerk, Abel Death. To suggest anything in the shape of
+complicity would be prejudging the case, but whatever may be the fate
+of Abel Death his poor family are to be commiserated. The theories and
+conjectures respecting the disappearance of this man are perfectly
+bewildering, and many are the excited discussions concerning it. Such
+licence of speech cannot be commended, and we suggest to those persons
+indulging in it the advisability of suspending their judgment.
+
+"A full report of the inquest held this morning appears in our
+columns. In view of the burial of the body of the murdered man, which
+will take place to-morrow, it was deemed necessary to open the inquiry
+to-day, although it was anticipated that little progress would be
+made; but although the Coroner stated that the proceedings would be of
+a formal character, it will be seen that matters were introduced the
+development of which will be followed with the keenest interest. The
+appearance of an eminent barrister for Lord and Lady Wharton, whose
+names have not hitherto been associated with the mystery, aroused
+general curiosity, which was intensified by the conduct of Lady
+Wharton herself. The Court was crowded, and numbers of persons could
+not obtain admittance. Among the audience we noticed several famous
+actors and actresses."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+            "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+This morning, at the Coroner's Court, Bishop Street, Mr. John Kent,
+the Coroner for the district, opened an inquiry into the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square, who was found dead in his house on
+Saturday, the 9th inst., under circumstances which have already been
+reported in the newspapers.
+
+The coroner, addressing the jury, said the initial proceedings would
+be chiefly formal. Their first duty would be to view the body of the
+deceased; after that certain witnesses would be examined who would
+testify to the finding of the body, and others who would give evidence
+of identification. The inquiry would then be adjourned till Wednesday,
+on which day medical and other evidence would be forthcoming. He
+refrained from any comment on the case, and he advised the jury to
+turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and reports which were in
+circulation; it was of the utmost importance that they should keep an
+open mind, and be guided only by the evidence which would be presented
+to them. Much mischief was frequently done by the prejudice aroused by
+injudicious public comment on a case presenting such singular features
+as the present. Comments of this nature were greatly to be deplored;
+they hampered, instead of assisting, the cause of justice.
+
+The jury then proceeded to Catchpole Square to view the body, and upon
+their return to court Mr. Finnis, Q.C., rose and stated that he
+appeared for Lord and Lady Wharton, who had a close and peculiar
+interest in the inquiry.
+
+The Coroner said the inquiry would be conducted in the usual manner,
+without the aid of counsel, whose assistance would be available in
+another court, but not in this, where no accusation was brought
+against any person, and where no person was on his trial.
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Our desire is to render material assistance to you and
+the jury. Lady Wharton----"
+
+The Coroner: "I cannot listen to you, Mr. Finnis."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Lady Wharton has most important, I may say most
+extraordinary evidence to give----"
+
+The Coroner: "Her evidence will be received, but not to-day. Pray be
+seated."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Her ladyship is in attendance."
+
+The Coroner: "She is at liberty to remain; but I repeat, her evidence
+cannot be received to-day. Only formal evidence will be taken to
+enable the body to be buried."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Evidence of identification, I understand?"
+
+The Coroner: "Yes."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Lady Wharton's evidence bears expressly upon this point."
+
+The Coroner: "It must be tendered at the proper time."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "With all respect, Mr. Coroner, I submit that this is the
+proper time."
+
+The Coroner: "I am the judge of that. I ask you not to persist. I
+shall conduct this inquiry in accordance with my duties as Coroner."
+
+The first witness called was Mr. Robert Starr.
+
+"You are a reporter?"
+
+"A special reporter and descriptive writer for 'The Little Busy Bee.'"
+
+"Were you the first person to enter the house in Catchpole Square
+after the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I cannot say. Some person or persons had been there before me, as is
+proved by a broken window at the back of the house through which I
+obtained entrance, but whether after or before the death of Mr. Boyd
+is unknown to me."
+
+"It appears, however, to have been a recent entrance?"
+
+"It appears so."
+
+"You have no knowledge of these persons?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+"Having obtained entrance into the house, what next did you do?"
+
+"I went through a passage, and up a staircase to another passage which
+leads to the street door. In this passage are doors opening into
+various rooms. I looked into these rooms without making any discovery,
+until I came to one which seems to have been used as an office. There
+are two doors in this office, one opening into a small room in which I
+saw nothing to arouse my suspicions, the other opening into a larger
+room which I found was a sleeping apartment."
+
+"Examine this plan of the rooms, and tell us whether it is accurate?"
+
+"Quite accurate, so far as my memory serves."
+
+"The room on the right is the sleeping apartment?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd's bedroom?"
+
+"I do not know. There was a bed in it, and the usual appointments of a
+bedroom. I stepped up to the bed, and saw it was occupied. Examining
+closer, I discovered that the person in it was dead."
+
+"By the person you mean Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I do not. I have never seen Mr. Boyd in his lifetime, and I could not
+therefore identify the body. But from the fact of the house being his,
+and from certain rumours of foul play which had reached me, I assumed
+that it was he."
+
+"You examined the body?"
+
+"Yes, and I observed marks on the throat which favoured the
+presumption that the man had been murdered."
+
+"In his sleep?"
+
+"I cannot vouch for that."
+
+"Were there any signs of a struggle?"
+
+"None. The limbs were composed, and what greatly surprised me was the
+orderly condition of the bedclothes."
+
+"How long did you remain in the house?"
+
+"About two hours."
+
+"During that time were you quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Were there any indications of a robbery having been committed?"
+
+"I observed none. The clothes of the deceased were on a chair, and
+there was no appearance of their having been rifled. There is a safe
+fixed to the wall; it did not seem to have been tampered with."
+
+"Having completed your examination, what next did you do?"
+
+"I left the house, and proceeded to the Bishop Street Police Station
+to give information of my discovery."
+
+"And after that?"
+
+"I went to the office of 'The Little Busy Bee,' and wrote an account
+of what I had seen and done, which, being published, was the first
+information the public received of the murder--if murder it was."
+
+"Had any orders been given to you to take action in this matter?"
+
+"None. I acted entirely on my own initiative."
+
+"What impelled you?"
+
+"Well, there seemed to me to be a mystery which should be unravelled
+in the public interests. I pieced three things together. The
+disappearance of Mr. Boyd's clerk, as reported in our paper, the
+silence of Mr. Boyd respecting that disappearance, upon which, had he
+written or spoken, he could probably have thrown some light, and the
+house in Catchpole Square sealed up, so to speak. These things
+required to be explained, and I set about it."
+
+Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: "Now, Mr. Starr, at what time in the morning----"
+
+The Coroner: "No, no, Mr. Finnis. I instruct the witness not to answer
+any questions you put to him."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Will you, then Mr. Coroner, ask him at what hour in the
+morning he made the discovery? I assure you it is a most important
+point."
+
+The Coroner: "At what hour in the morning did you enter the house?"
+
+"At a little after ten."
+
+"And you left it?"
+
+"At a few minutes before twelve. I went straight to the police
+station, where, no doubt, the time can be verified."
+
+"Have you any other information to give bearing on this inquiry?"
+
+"One thing should be mentioned. In my printed narrative I state that I
+noticed dark stains upon the floor of the office and the bedroom, and
+that I traced these stains to the window at the back. I scraped off a
+portion of the stains, which I gave to my chief, who handed it to an
+analyst. His report is that they are the stains of human blood."
+
+"Were they stains of old standing?"
+
+"No. I scraped them off quite easily."
+
+"Did you observe any blood on the bedclothes?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+The next witness was Constable Simmons, who stated that he and
+Constable Filey were instructed by the day inspector at the Bishop
+Street Police Station to enter the house for the purpose of
+ascertaining whether there was any truth in the information given by
+Mr. Starr.
+
+"At what time were those instructions issued?"
+
+"Somewhere about three o'clock."
+
+"So that three hours elapsed before any action was taken?
+
+"I am under orders, sir."
+
+The witness then gave an account of how he got into the house by means
+of a ladder over the wall at the back, and through the window.
+Corroborating in every particular the evidence of the reporter, he
+went a step farther. In the bedroom of the deceased he found the key
+of the street door, which he opened to admit Constable Filey, who was
+keeping watch in the Square outside. The street door was neither
+chained nor bolted. He did not see any stains of blood on the floor;
+he did not look for them.
+
+Constable Filey, who was next examined, gave evidence to the same
+effect. Neither of these officers was acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd,
+and could not therefore speak as to the identification of the body.
+
+Inspector Robson was then called. His appearance caused some
+excitement, it being understood that his daughter was married to the
+son of the deceased.
+
+"You are an inspector of police?"
+
+"Yes. At present on night duty at the Bishop Street Station."
+
+"You were acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Not personally. I have seen him several times, but have never spoken
+to him."
+
+"You are sufficiently familiar with his features to identify him?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"When did you first hear of his death?"
+
+"On Saturday afternoon, when I was sitting at home with my wife and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington. The boys were calling out news of a
+murder in Catchpole Square, and we went out and bought a paper."
+
+"Before Saturday afternoon had your attention been directed in any way
+to the house in which the deceased resided?"
+
+"Yes. Last Tuesday night a woman was brought into the office who made
+a statement respecting the disappearance of her husband, who had been
+in the service of the deceased."
+
+"What is the name of the woman?"
+
+"Mrs. Abel Death. I advised her to apply to the magistrate on the
+following morning, in order that it might be made public."
+
+"After reading the news in the paper on Saturday afternoon what did
+you do?"
+
+"I went to the Bishop Street Station, and learned that constables had
+been sent to enter the house, for the purpose of ascertaining if the
+statement made by the reporter was correct."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I went to Catchpole Square, accompanied by Constable Applebee and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington--both of whom were acquainted with the
+deceased--I entered the house and saw the body. I identified it as the
+body of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"Is there any doubt in your mind on the point?"
+
+"Not the slightest. I have seen him scores of times, and his features
+were quite familiar to me."
+
+"You saw the marks on his throat?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you any idea as to the cause of his death?"
+
+"It appeared to me to have been caused by strangulation."
+
+"Now, Inspector Robson, I wish to ask you if you formed any idea as to
+how long he had been dead. You cannot, of course, speak with the
+authority of an expert, but we should like to hear what your
+impression was?"
+
+"My impression was that he had been dead several days."
+
+At this answer considerable commotion was caused by a lady exclaiming
+"Impossible! Impossible!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+                          SCENES IN COURT.
+
+
+The Coroner: "I cannot allow the proceedings to be interrupted by any
+of the spectators, and I must request the person who spoke to preserve
+silence."
+
+The Lady (rising): "My name is Lady Wharton, and I know what I am
+saying. It is not in the nature of things to be silent when so
+monstrous a statement as that is made. I say again, it is impossible."
+
+The Coroner: "The witness has given his impression----"
+
+Lady Wharton: "He cannot be in his right senses, or he must have some
+motive----"
+
+The Coroner: "You are impeaching the witness and delaying the
+proceedings. Unless you resume your seat it will be my duty to have
+you removed----"
+
+Lady Wharton (indignantly): "Have me removed! Is this a court of
+justice?"
+
+The Corner: "I hope so. Kindly resume your seat."
+
+Lady Wharton: "I insist upon being heard."
+
+The Coroner: "You compel me to do what will be disagreeable to you."
+(To a Constable.) "Officer----"
+
+Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: "One moment, I beg." (To Lady Wharton.) "Please
+observe the Coroner's directions. At present you can be heard only
+through me." (Lady Wharton, who was accompanied by her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, resumed her seat in great agitation.)
+
+Mr. Finnis: "It is a point of vital importance, and I ask
+the witness--upon whom neither Lady Wharton nor I cast any
+imputation--whether he positively swears that the body is that of
+Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+The Coroner (to the witness): "Do not reply to any question except
+those put to you by me or the jury."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "You will understand, Mr. Coroner, when Lady Wharton is
+examined, why the statement of the witness appears to her incredible.
+Our desire is to prevent a miscarriage of justice."
+
+The Coroner: "It is the desire of all of us."
+
+A Juror: "There can be no harm in asking the question again. With your
+permission, Mr. Coroner, I will put it. Inspector Robson, do you
+positively swear that the body you saw is that of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "So far as a human being can be positive, I swear
+it."
+
+"And that you formed the idea that he had been dead several days?"
+
+"That is certainly my impression."
+
+The Coroner (after listening to a whispered communication from the
+juror): "It has been suggested to me to ask whether you have any
+personal interest in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+Inspector Robson (with warmth): "I do not understand you."
+
+The Coroner: "We are aware, Inspector Robson, of the high character
+you bear, and of the deserved estimation in which you are held. It is
+probable that in the course of this inquiry questions may be asked
+which may not seem to have any direct bearing upon the investigation,
+but which may eventually lead to issues of more or less importance."
+
+Inspector Robson: "I am giving my evidence as inspector of police."
+
+The Coroner: "Not entirely. You are a witness in this case, and are
+here both as an official and a private citizen. If you have an
+objection to answer the question I will not press it; but I would
+point out to you that your refusal may leave an unfavourable
+impression on the minds of the jury."
+
+Inspector Robson (after a pause): "Will you put the question in more
+direct terms, Mr. Coroner? I would prefer my private affairs not being
+imported into this case, but I should be sorry to lay myself open to
+misconstruction."
+
+The Coroner: "In plainer terms, then, is there any relationship
+between you and the deceased?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "He is my son-in-law's father."
+
+The Coroner: "You were, of course, aware of this when Mrs. Abel Death
+reported the disappearance of her husband?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "No, Mr. Coroner, I was not aware of it."
+
+The Coroner: "Was the marriage between your daughter and Mr. Reginald
+Boyd quite recent?"
+
+Inspector Robson (with evident reluctance): "No, they have been
+married two months."
+
+The Coroner: "There is a strange discrepancy here. How could you have
+been ignorant of the relationship when Mrs. Death came to the Bishop
+Street Police Station?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "At that time I did not know that my daughter was
+married. As what passes in this court will be reported in the
+newspapers, I wish to add that no blame attaches either to her or her
+husband, for whom my wife and myself have the highest regard."
+
+The Juror: "He is the only son of the deceased?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "In point of fact the heir-at-law, unless he is
+dispossessed by will?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "Has any will been found?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Not to my knowledge."
+
+The Juror: "Has search been made for it?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "It is now being made."
+
+The Juror: "By whom?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "By my son-in-law's attorney, Mr. Richard
+Remington."
+
+The Juror: "Your nephew?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Juror (to the Coroner): "Will Mr. Reginald Boyd be called?"
+
+The Coroner: "Not to-day. It appears, from a letter I have here, which
+is accompanied by a doctor's certificate, that he went yesterday to
+his father's house in Catchpole Square to identify the body, that he
+has been very ill, and that the exertion was too much for him. It is
+hoped that on Wednesday, to which day the inquiry will be adjourned,
+he will be well enough to give his evidence."
+
+The Juror: "How long has he been ill?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Since last Saturday week."
+
+The Juror: "The day following that on which Mr. Abel Death
+disappeared?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "Can you inform us whether Mr. Reginald Boyd was on good
+terms with his father?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "I do not think it is a question I should be called
+upon to answer."
+
+The Juror: "Very well, Inspector Robson."
+
+The next witness was Mr. Richard Remington, who gave his answers
+generally with rapidity; but occasionally there was a slight hesitancy
+before he replied, as though he were considering the form of words in
+which he should reply. Asked if Inspector Robson was his uncle, he
+answered that he was proud to own it. Asked if he followed any
+occupation, he described himself as a Jack of all trades. "And master
+of none?" queried a juror jocosely. "I won't say that," replied the
+witness, quickly. "There are some things I can do thoroughly."
+
+"You accompanied Inspector Robson when he entered the house of the
+deceased on Saturday?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"You saw the body?"
+
+"Yes. It is the body of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"You were acquainted with him?"
+
+"Intimately. I was in his service nearly three months, and saw him
+daily."
+
+"So that you can speak with confidence on the point?"
+
+"With perfect confidence."
+
+"Can you inform us whether the room in which the body was found was
+Mr. Boyd's regular bedroom?"
+
+"It was. He always slept there."
+
+The Juror: "Is it the only bedroom in the house?"
+
+"No; there is another bedroom on the second floor."
+
+The Juror: "Occupied by any person?"
+
+"By no person during my service with the deceased."
+
+The Juror: "But at some time or other occupied by another person?"
+
+"I believe by Mr. Reginald Boyd when he lived in the house."
+
+The Juror: "Under what circumstances did he leave his father's house?"
+
+"It is hardly a question that should be put to me."
+
+The Juror: "You think it would be better to ask Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"That is for you to decide."
+
+The Coroner: "You were in the house yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We understand you are searching for a will?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And have found none?"
+
+"None."
+
+The Coroner: "I am now going to put a question to you which I put to
+Inspector Robson. When you saw the body did you receive any impression
+as to the length of time Mr. Boyd had been dead?"
+
+"Yes. He must have been dead four or five days at least."
+
+Lady Wharton: "They are stark staring mad!"
+
+The Coroner: "I assure Lady Wharton that if she persists in these
+interruptions she cannot be allowed to remain in Court."
+
+The evidence of Constable Applebee, who was the next witness, was then
+taken. Catchpole Square is within the radius of his beat, and not a
+week passed without his seeing Mr. Samuel Boyd two or three times. He
+was positive that the body was that of Samuel Boyd, and he would not
+admit the possibility of his being mistaken.
+
+"Did you see any suspicious persons about on the night of the 1st?"
+
+The witness answered "No," and happened to glance in the direction of
+Lady Wharton, upon which another scene occurred. Her ladyship
+exclaimed, "Gracious Powers! I am in a hornet's nest! Does the man
+suspect _me?_" It was with difficulty that she was calmed, and it was
+only upon her giving her promise that she would not speak again that
+an order for her removal was not carried out.
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Her ladyship visited Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of the
+1st upon a matter of business, and the witness probably saw her."
+
+The Coroner: "That is no excuse for these interruptions, Mr. Finnis."
+(To the witness.) "On any subsequent occasion did you see any
+suspicious persons about?"
+
+"Yes, on the night of the great fog something occurred. The fog was so
+thick that I missed my way, and by accident I stumbled upon Constable
+Pond, whose beat joins mine. We were close by Catchpole Square, and we
+went into it. As we were moving away I saw a woman trying to steal
+from the Square into Deadman's Court. I ran and caught the person by
+the arm, but somehow or other she slipped through my hands and
+escaped."
+
+"Did you see her face?"
+
+"No, she was too quick for me."
+
+"At what time did this take place?"
+
+"I can't say exactly, but it was past midnight."
+
+"Is it usual for people to be in the Square so late?"
+
+"Quite unusual."
+
+"That is all you can tell us?"
+
+"That's all, except----" Here the witness hesitated.
+
+"Except what?"
+
+"Well, it has nothing to do with the case, but it come into my mind
+that two nights last week I met Mr. Richard Remington near the
+Square."
+
+"You must have met many persons. What is there special in your meeting
+Mr. Remington?"
+
+"Only that both times it was two or three o'clock in the morning. It
+isn't worth mentioning."
+
+"The smallest incident in connection with a case of this description
+is worth mentioning. Did you have any conversation with him?"
+
+"Oh, yes. The first time we had a long talk together."
+
+"Did he say what brought him out so late!"
+
+"Well, he said he was looking for a lodging."
+
+"What! At two or three in the morning?"
+
+"Yes, that is what he said."
+
+"It sounds like a joke; he can hardly have been serious."
+
+A Juror: "Perhaps Mr. Remington would like to explain."
+
+Mr. Richard Remington (from the body of the Court): "I am quite ready
+to explain."
+
+The Coroner (to Constable Applebee): "We have nothing further to ask
+you."
+
+Mr. Richard Remington was recalled.
+
+"You have heard what the last witness said in reference to yourself?"
+
+"Yes; he spoke the truth. I met him on two occasions last week, in the
+middle of the night, and we had a chat. Of course it is absurd to
+suppose I was looking for lodgings at that time, but I intended to do
+so next morning, and I mentioned it to Constable Applebee, thinking it
+likely he might know of a place to suit me. In point of fact he did
+know, and it was upon his introduction that I took a room next day in
+the house of Constable Pond in Paradise Row. You might like to hear
+why I went in the direction of Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog. Well, I was in the Bishop Street Station at about midnight when
+Mrs. Abel Death reported the disappearance of her husband and asked
+the assistance of the police. As I had been in the employ of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd I took an interest in her story, and, my time being my
+own, I thought I would have a look at the old house."
+
+The Coroner: "Thank you, Mr. Remington."
+
+The last witness called was Mrs. Jewel, a charwoman, whose evidence
+was mainly interesting from the insight it afforded of the singular
+domestic habits of the deceased. She was the only female servant
+employed by Mr. Boyd, and her services were not requisitioned for more
+than two half-days every week. The witness described the deceased as
+the hardest master she ever had. When she swept out a room or made a
+bed he grumbled at the way it was done, and made it an excuse for
+beating her down to the last farthing. She did no cooking for him; he
+took his dinner at some cheap eating house, and prepared his own
+breakfast and tea. "He'd skin a flint," the witness remarked. The
+value of Mrs. Jewel's evidence lay in her intimate familiarity with
+the personal appearance of the deceased. She swore positively to the
+body, and laughed at the idea of her being mistaken. Some amusement
+was caused by her being hard of hearing, and she resented this by
+giving short snappy replies to the questions put to her, and declining
+to be moved by so much as a hair's breadth from any statement she
+made. The last of these questions were put by the juror who had taken
+so prominent a part in the proceedings, and who resisted every effort
+made by the Coroner to abbreviate his inquiries.
+
+The Juror: "You worked for the deceased during the time his son, Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, lived in the house?"
+
+Mrs. Jewel: "Of course I did, and Mr. Reginald's a gentleman."
+
+"Were they on good terms with each other?"
+
+"No," she answered, "old Mr. Boyd was always quarrelling with Mr.
+Reginald. He stormed a lot, but Mr. Reginald was very quiet, and
+hardly answered his father. At last he went away, and I don't blame
+him."
+
+Nothing further was elicited from the witness, and the inquiry was
+adjourned till Wednesday, when, the Coroner said, important evidence
+would be laid before the jury.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+                          GATHERING CLOUDS.
+
+
+"There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming." This was the
+dominant thought in Dick's mind as he emerged from the court.
+Reporters, hurriedly gathering their sheets of notes and sketches,
+were hastening to their respective offices, and persons who had been
+unable to obtain admission were eagerly asking for news of what had
+taken place. The jurymen filed out, with a judicial weight on their
+brows, and the man who had put and prompted so many questions gave
+Dick a searching look as he passed. "I beg your pardon, Mr.
+Remington," said a cheery interviewer, "I belong to 'The Hourly
+Inquirer,' and if you would give me a few minutes----" "No time for
+interviewing--nothing to say," interrupted Dick, and hurried on. Of
+which the interviewer made a quarter of a column. Dick was not in the
+mood to impart information or impressions; he had more serious matters
+to think of. It seemed to him as though sinister forces were at work
+inimical to Florence and Reginald. "I wonder," he thought, "what kind
+of evidence Lady Wharton has to give--she seems terribly in earnest."
+
+Clear of the crowd he felt a light touch upon his arm; looking down he
+saw it was Florence.
+
+"Reginald sent me," she said; "he is very anxious. Is it over?"
+
+"Not by a long way," he replied. "People are staring at us. Let us
+walk on."
+
+"What has been done, Dick?"
+
+"Evidence of identification has been taken, and a lot of stupid and
+unnecessary questions asked. You will read all about it in the papers,
+one part true, and three parts fiction." He spoke with a light air to
+relieve her mind. "Reporters make the most of everything; it is their
+business to lay on colour pretty thickly. There is one rather
+vexatious thing--your visit to Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog."
+
+"Has my name been mentioned?" asked Florence, in alarm.
+
+"No, but it may be, and we must consider what we ought to do. Don't
+look distressed; a straightforward explanation will set it right. Does
+Uncle Rob know you went there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Aunt Rob?"
+
+"No. There was no harm in my going----"
+
+"None whatever, dear."
+
+"And none in my not speaking of it. There has been so much else to
+think of."
+
+"Indeed there has, and you have done everything for the best; but in
+this unfortunate matter Uncle Rob is very delicately and peculiarly
+placed; he is not only privately but officially connected with it. You
+see that, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, Dick."
+
+"People are so uncharitable that a false step, though taken quite
+innocently, may lead to trouble. I am afraid you will read many
+unpleasant thing in the papers, and I want you to be prepared for
+them." She gave him a startled look. "You must have courage,
+Florence."
+
+"I will."
+
+"That's right. Now go home and tell them about your visit to Catchpole
+Square, and why you went. I will be there in an hour or so. And don't
+for one moment lose heart. There are some unhappy days before us, but
+before long the clouds will clear, and all will be well."
+
+She left him at the entrance to Deadman's Court, and he gave her a
+bright smile to cheer her; but when she was out of sight he murmured
+again, "There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming." He feared he
+knew not what; every hidden danger seemed to grow, and the dark clouds
+to deepen. How to ward this danger from Florence? This was his aim and
+hope, and to this end he was continually nerving himself.
+
+Up to the present nothing but perplexity and mystery had attended his
+search in the house of the murdered man. There were the bottles of
+wine. On the first occasion he had mechanically counted seventy-six
+bottles, on the second occasion seventy-five, and now there were but
+seventy-four. "Either I am out of my senses," he thought, "or some
+person has been twice in the house since I forced an entrance into
+it." Wildly improbable as was the suggestion he found it impossible to
+reject it. True, he was not the only person who had been there these
+last two days. Scotland Yard was astir, and had sent detectives and
+policemen, to whom free access was granted by Dick. These officials
+made themselves very busy, but for the most part kept a still tongue.
+Plans of the room were drawn, and every inch of the walls and floors
+and staircases was examined. When it was proposed to photograph the
+blood-stained footprints made by Dick, he looked on calmly, and
+assisted in the preparations.
+
+On this Monday afternoon the undertaker's men were waiting for Dick in
+the Square, and they followed him upstairs with the coffin. It had
+been a gruesome task, and he felt as if he could not breathe freely
+till the body was taken to its last resting place.
+
+Then there was the safe, of which he had found the key. During his
+service with Samuel Boyd this safe had been the receptacle of all the
+documents of value and of all the record books belonging to the dead
+man--bank book, bill book, ledger, mortgage deeds, undue bills, etc.;
+he expected to see these articles in the safe, but to his astonishment
+it contained only a few unimportant papers.
+
+At five o'clock the undertaker's men had departed, and Dick with a
+last look around also took his departure. As he pulled the street door
+behind him he heard a familiar cough, and a little hand was slid into
+his. Gracie's hand.
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad to see you, Dick," she said, clinging to him. "I've
+been everywhere to find you."
+
+"Has your father come back?" he asked, in sudden expectation that she
+brought him news of the missing man.
+
+"No such luck. You didn't come to see us yesterday."
+
+"I was too busy, Gracie. Are you any better?"
+
+"Ever so much." Her pallid face and the sunken rims round her large
+black eyes did not confirm the statement. "I can't rest, Dick, I can't
+rest. Is he caught?"
+
+"Who, Gracie?"
+
+"The man that murdered Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"No; and God knows when he will be."
+
+"If God don't catch him," said Gracie, slowly, "and you don't, _I_
+will. You just see if I don't. I've got to, because of what they're
+saying of father. Dick, if I was a man I'd tear 'em to pieces. Poor
+father! It's too bad, ain't it?"
+
+"Altogether too bad."
+
+"There's mother fretting herself to skin and bone. She gets up in the
+night, and goes down to the Mews, and when she thinks nobody sees her
+she cries and cries fit to break her heart; but _I_ see her, and I
+feel like killing somebody!"
+
+Not a trace of emotion in her dark little face; no kindling light in
+her eyes; no tremor in her voice. The passion which agitated her was
+expressed only in the clinging of her fingers to the hand of the
+friend in whom she trusted and believed.
+
+"I dreamt of father last night, Dick," she continued. "He was running
+as hard as he could, and there was a mob of people after him. I kept
+'em back. 'If you dare,' I cried, 'if you dare!' So we got away
+together, and where do you think we got to?"
+
+"Couldn't say for my life, Gracie, dreams are such funny things."
+
+"Yes, they are, ain't they? We got into Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole
+Square, and we went all over it, into every room, creeping up and down
+the stairs, looking for the murderer. 'You didn't do it, father?' I
+said. He swore a big oath that he was innocent, and he cried to me to
+save him and catch the murderer. I'm going to. I promised I would, and
+I'm going to."
+
+"It was only a dream, Gracie."
+
+"It was real. I can hear him now, I can see him now. I've promised to
+catch the murderer, and I'm going to."
+
+They had reached Aunt Rob's house, and Dick stopped.
+
+"I must leave you now, Gracie. My friends live here."
+
+"You won't throw us over, will you? You'll come and see us?"
+
+"Yes, I will come."
+
+She raised her face; he stooped and kissed her and she went away with
+a lighter heart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+                 LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.
+
+
+When the jury re-assembled on Wednesday the excitement created by the
+mystery had reached fever heat, and long before the Court was opened a
+crowd of people had gathered round the doors. Numbers of influential
+persons had applied for admission, and as many of these were
+accommodated as the limited space at the disposal of the Coroner would
+permit. The first day's proceedings had whetted curiosity, and many
+members of the aristocracy were present to hear the evidence which
+Lady Wharton was to give, the nature of which had been kept a profound
+secret. The learned professions were adequately represented; the stage
+sent some of its best actors and actresses, and literature some of its
+most famous authors. Never in the history of crime had a gathering so
+notable assembled at the initial inquiry into the circumstances of a
+mystery murder.
+
+The murdered man had been buried the previous day, and a vast
+concourse of people had attended the funeral. Reginald--still very
+weak--and Florence were the chief mourners, and in their carriage were
+Inspector Robson and his wife. There was but one other mourning
+carriage, and this was occupied by Dick and the poor charwoman who had
+been fitfully employed domestically by the deceased. The newspapers
+devoted columns to descriptions of the funeral and to those pictorial
+sketches of personages and incidents which have become almost a craze
+in up-to-date journalism. Standing by the grave, Dick, looking over
+the heads of the people, saw Gracie and her mother and Dr. Vinsen,
+side by side. Mrs. Death was in tears, Gracie wore her accustomed
+impassive expression, and Dr. Vinsen bared his halo to the skies.
+
+"My young friend, my dear young friend," he said, sidling up to Dick,
+"this is the end of a crafty life, but let us extend our pity--ex-tend
+our pi-ty. The grave, like charity, covereth a multitude of sins. We
+will be clement; we will soften our judgment; it is the least we can
+do in the presence of death, in the solemn presence of death. If it
+teaches us a lesson, Mr. Samuel Boyd will not have lived in vain."
+
+"What lesson?" asked Dick, half angrily; the voice, the manner, jarred
+upon him.
+
+"The lesson of humility, of charity--sweet charity--of justice."
+
+"You call the life that ends here," said Dick, pointing to the grave,
+"a crafty life. Where does justice come in?"
+
+"Ah, my young friend," responded Dr. Vinsen, shaking his head
+remonstrantly, "ah, my dear young friend!"
+
+"Meaning--what?" demanded Dick.
+
+"Meaning that you are young, that you have much to learn, much to
+unlearn."
+
+"You speak in enigmas," said Dick. "Good day."
+
+"Not in anger," said Dr. Vinsen, gently, "not in anger, my dear young
+friend, lest the dead rise to reproach you."
+
+"He is better where he is," said Dick, cynically. "I knew him--did
+you?"
+
+"I had not the privilege. In life we never met."
+
+"But you take it very much to heart. Why?"
+
+"My heart is large; it bleeds for all." He laid his hand upon the
+shoulder of Mrs. Death, and repeated, "It bleeds for all."
+
+"More enigmas--more platitudes," said Dick, scornfully.
+
+Dr. Vinsen looked at him with a pitying smile. "I fear I do not find
+favour in your eyes."
+
+"To speak plainly, you do not."
+
+"To speak plainly is commendable. But give a reason for it."
+
+"I cannot. You have a scientist for a friend."
+
+"Dr. Pye? Yes."
+
+"He will tell you that there are certain chemicals that will not mix."
+
+"I do not need to be told. I know it."
+
+"Well, then, Dr. Vinsen, _we_ don't mix; and there's an end of it."
+
+"No, my young friend, not an end of it. The end is there, for him, for
+you, for all. Better for some of us if we were in our graves." There
+was no change in his voice; it was mild, benignant, reproachful.
+"Better, far better, for some of us if we were in our graves. Come,
+Mrs. Death; come, Gracie, my child."
+
+They turned away, but not before Gracie had taken Dick's hand and
+kissed it.
+
+And now, on Wednesday morning, the Coroner took his place, and
+addressed the jury in the following terms:
+
+"Upon the opening of this inquiry I advised you to keep an open mind
+respecting it, and to turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and
+reports which were in circulation. I feel it necessary to repeat this
+caution. The extraordinary statements which have appeared in the
+public press may or may not have a foundation of fact, but with these
+statements we have nothing to do, and I beg you to dismiss them. You
+are here to give your verdict in accordance with the evidence which
+will be presented to you, and not in accordance with unauthorised and
+unverified rumour. If you do this without fear or favour you will have
+performed your duty. Before medical evidence is taken Inspector Robson
+has requested permission to make a statement, to which, as he is an
+important witness in the case, I see no objection."
+
+Inspector Robson was then called.
+
+The Coroner: "Does the statement you wish to make, Inspector Robson,
+relate to the present inquiry?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "It does, Mr. Coroner, though it has no direct
+bearing upon it. A matter has come to my knowledge since Monday which,
+although it is purely of a private nature, I consider it my duty to
+make public. Constable Applebee, in his evidence on that day,
+mentioned that on the night of the 5th, when he was in Catchpole
+Square, he saw a woman there whom he challenged, and who escaped from
+him. The incident was reported at the Bishop Street Station, and note
+was taken of it. I wish to state that the lady he challenged is my
+daughter."
+
+"You were not aware of the fact when Constable Applebee was under
+examination?"
+
+"I was not. My daughter, hearing on Monday that the incident had been
+mentioned in court, informed me that it was she who had visited
+Catchpole Square on the night in question."
+
+"Is there any special reason why she did not inform you of it before?"
+
+"None. Had the matter been of importance she would have spoken of it
+earlier."
+
+"Perhaps we had better hear from her own lips the reason of her visit.
+Is she in court?"
+
+"She is."
+
+"Let her be called."
+
+Florence came forward. She was sitting between Reginald and her
+mother, who gave her an encouraging smile as she left them.
+
+The Coroner: "You have heard what your father has said. There is no
+obligation upon you to state why you went to Catchpole Square at such
+an hour on such a night; but we are ready to listen to any explanation
+you may desire to make."
+
+Florence: "I will answer any questions you ask."
+
+"Previous to your visit where were you on that night?"
+
+"At my husband's lodgings in Park Street, Islington. He was very ill,
+and I was nursing him."
+
+"Did he send you for his father?"
+
+"No, he was delirious. He spoke of his father several times, and it
+appeared to me to be my duty to make him acquainted with his son's
+dangerous condition. There was no one else to go but myself, and I
+went to Catchpole Square because I considered it right to do so."
+
+The Juror (who had taken so conspicuous a part in Monday's
+proceedings): "When he spoke of his father, what were his precise
+words?"
+
+The Coroner: "I do not think the witness should be asked that
+question."
+
+Florence: "Oh, yes, there is nothing to conceal. He simply said, 'My
+father, my father!' and I gathered from that that he wished to see
+him. It was natural that I should think so."
+
+The Coroner: "Quite natural. You arrived at Catchpole Square, and
+knocked at the door of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, I knocked a good many times, but no one answered me. As I was
+about to leave the square I heard voices, and saw, very dimly, two men
+very close to me. I did not know they were policemen, and one of them
+called out to me to stop, and caught hold of me. I was so frightened
+that I tore myself away, and ran out of the Square as quickly as I
+could."
+
+The Juror: "Did you know at that time that your husband was not on
+good terms with his father?"
+
+The Coroner: "You need not answer that question."
+
+"I wish to answer every question. I did know it, and I knew that there
+was no fault on my husband's part. It was my hope that his illness
+would lead to a reconciliation between them. I thank God that my
+husband is spared to me, but if he had died I should never have
+forgiven myself if I had not made the attempt to bring his father to
+him."
+
+"Thank you, Mrs. Boyd; that is all we have to ask."
+
+A buzz of admiration ran through the court as Florence returned to her
+seat by Reginald's side.
+
+Dr. Talbot Rowbottom, of Harley Street, a member of the Royal College
+of Surgeons and a doctor of medicine, was then called.
+
+"You examined the body of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, on Sunday, at the request of Mr. Reginald Boyd, who wrote me a
+note to that effect. I had read of the discovery of the body in the
+newspapers, and, anticipating an inquest, I called first upon you, as
+coroner of the district, and received your permission to make the
+examination."
+
+"Did the deceased die a natural death?"
+
+"No. He met his death by strangulation."
+
+"You have no doubt upon the subject?"
+
+"Not the slightest."
+
+"He could not have strangled himself?"
+
+"From the condition of the body that is impossible."
+
+"Does your examination of the body warrant you in saying that there
+was resistance on the part of the deceased?"
+
+"Great resistance. There is every indication of a violent struggle
+having taken place."
+
+"So that the orderly state of the bed and bedclothes was unnatural?"
+
+"Most unnatural. After the deed was done singular care must have been
+taken to compose the limbs and arrange the bedclothes."
+
+"Do you consider it likely that, during the struggle, the deceased
+succeeded in getting out of bed?"
+
+"More than likely. I observed upon the body traces of bruises which
+could not have been produced had the deceased remained in bed. There
+was a bruise upon the shin of the right leg, another on the head, and
+another on the right shoulder. These must have been caused by the
+deceased coming into violent contact with heavy pieces of furniture.
+Above the left eye there was an abrasion from a similar cause."
+
+"Was there any wound on the body such as might have been caused by a
+knife or a pistol?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Is the furniture in the bedroom of a sufficiently heavy character to
+cause the wounds and abrasions you spoke of?"
+
+"There is no heavy furniture in the bedroom. My impression is that the
+deceased was first attacked in his sleep, that he awoke, that in the
+course of the struggle he succeeded in getting out of bed, and
+dragged, or was dragged by his assailant or assailants, into the
+adjoining apartment, where the furniture is of a much more substantial
+description."
+
+"Do you consider it likely that the deceased could have called for
+help during the struggle?"
+
+"Not to any appreciable extent. The compression of the windpipe was
+remarkable, and under such compression the capacity of the vocal
+chords must have been considerably weakened. Even had he succeeded in
+releasing himself for a few moments he could not in that brief time
+have regained control of his voice. The exhaustion would have been too
+great."
+
+"Now, Dr. Rowbottom, you examined the body on Sunday, the l0th. Can
+you state with some degree of precision on what approximate date the
+deceased met his death?"
+
+"He must have been dead at least eight days."
+
+"That takes us back to Sunday, the 3rd?"
+
+"Yes. And it is probable that he died the day before, on the
+Saturday."
+
+At these words, which were uttered with decision, there was a
+commotion in the part of the court in which Lady Wharton was sitting,
+but the Coroner looking with some severity in that direction, her
+ladyship, who had risen to her feet, obeyed the injunction of her
+counsel not to speak. She sank back in her seat, and evinced her
+agitation by a vigorous fluttering of her fan. When the excitement
+caused by this interruption had subsided, the Coroner continued.
+
+"The deceased being in his night attire, we may take it that he died
+either on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, or on the night of
+Saturday, the 2nd?"
+
+"Certainly on one of those nights."
+
+"Absolutely certain?"
+
+"Absolutely certain."
+
+Dr. John Webster, of Canonbury Square, and Dr. Lipman, of Wimpole
+Street, who were next examined, corroborated in every respect the
+evidence of Dr. Rowbottom, and agreed with the conclusions at which he
+had arrived. They spoke positively to the fact that the deceased had
+been brutally murdered, and to the presumption that the murder had
+taken place either on the Friday or the Saturday night.
+
+At this stage of the inquiry Mr. Finnis, Q.C., requested the Coroner
+to take Lady Wharton as the next witness. Her ladyship, he said, had
+evidence of an extraordinary nature to give which would throw an
+entirely new light upon the inquiry, and it was most important that
+there should be as little delay as possible in hearing what she had to
+say.
+
+The Coroner: "Before Lady Wharton is examined there is official
+information to lay before the jury. An officer from the detective
+department in Scotland Yard is present, and we will hear him first. He
+has duties elsewhere, and is anxious to be relieved from a longer
+attendance in this court than is absolutely necessary. His evidence
+will open up matter which may have a bearing on the verdict. Call Mr.
+Lambert."
+
+This gentleman, whose name is well known in association with many
+celebrated criminal cases, stepped forward and was sworn.
+
+"You are a detective in official service?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"You have visited the house of the deceased in Catchpole Square?"
+
+"On three occasions. The first on Sunday, the second on Monday, the
+third yesterday."
+
+"Whom did you find in charge there?"
+
+"Mr. Richard Remington, who gave me every facility for a thorough
+examination of the premises."
+
+"Describe what steps you took, and their result."
+
+"I first examined the bedroom and the adjoining office. On the floor
+of both rooms I observed the marks of a man's footsteps, with stains
+of blood which had been trodden upon. In three places the footmarks
+were partially outlined in these stains, and I took photographs of
+them."
+
+"Are these the photographs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Coroner passed the photographs to the jury.
+
+"How do you form the conclusion that they are the footsteps of a man?"
+
+"The boots are those of a man, and the size, No. 8, is an unusual size
+for a woman."
+
+"Were there marks of other footsteps?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Could these footsteps have been made by the deceased?"
+
+"No. The deceased was flat-footed; the man who wore the boots had a
+defined arch in his soles. Here are photographs of the soles of
+deceased's boots; you will see a marked difference in the size and
+shape."
+
+The photographs were produced, and examined by the Coroner and the
+jury.
+
+"After searching the bedroom and the adjoining office you proceeded to
+another part of the premises."
+
+"With your permission I will first finish with these two rooms."
+
+"Very well. Proceed."
+
+"The walls of the office are partially hung with old tapestry, and I
+observed in one place that a hand had clutched it. The finger marks
+are still discernible, and the tapestry has not returned to its
+original folds. This indicates that, during a struggle, one of the men
+had caught hold of it. Upon parts of the wall not covered with
+tapestry are scratches which seem to have been made by finger nails."
+
+"Recent scratches?"
+
+"Made within the last two or three weeks."
+
+"Do you consider it certain that there was a struggle between the
+deceased and his assailant?"
+
+"I am positive there was."
+
+"In that case would there not have been, in addition to the defined
+blood stains of footmarks, smears of blood upon the floor?"
+
+"I was coming to that. There is no doubt that a prolonged struggle
+took place, but the absence of blood-smears, such as would have been
+caused by the naked feet of the deceased, proves that the wound from
+which the blood proceeded could not have been inflicted during the
+struggle."
+
+"Before or after?"
+
+"After. If blood had dropped upon the floor before the struggle it
+would have taken some time to dry, and signs of dragging feet would
+have been observable. Besides, there would have been blood-stains on
+the naked feet of the deceased. There were none. Examining farther I
+discovered a bullet in the wall, which I extracted, and which must
+have been fired within the last two or three weeks. The bore is .320,
+the barrel of the pistol, four inch. The weapon used was probably a
+Colt's ejector revolver."
+
+"Probably, you say. Did you not find the pistol?"
+
+"No. I inquired of Mr. Remington whether he had found one. He had
+not."
+
+"So that you cannot say whether the shot was fired by the deceased or
+his assailant?"
+
+"I cannot say."
+
+"Was that the only bullet you found?"
+
+"The only one. My examination of these two rooms concluded, I turned
+my attention to other parts of the house. On the stairs leading from
+the street door to the bedroom I picked up two pieces of brown paper,
+with small pieces of wax adhering to them."
+
+"Did you examine the back of the premises?"
+
+"Yes. Over the basement rooms, which had not been used for a
+considerable time, was a window which had been broken from without,
+and broken by an unskilled hand."
+
+"How do you arrive at the conclusion that the window was broken from
+without?"
+
+"By the splinters of glass on the floor of the room, and by the broken
+pieces remaining in the panes, the jagged edges of which are a
+verification of my statement."
+
+"We should like to hear your reason for saying that the hand that
+broke the window was unskilled?"
+
+"A regular burglar would have been provided with tools which would
+have enabled him to cut the glass without running the risk of personal
+injury."
+
+"But might not such a man have adopted these rougher means for the
+purpose of averting suspicion?"
+
+"I have never known it done by a skilled burglar. It was through this
+window that the man effected an entrance. Continuing my investigation
+I came to the wall which surrounds the back of the house, and there I
+received confirmation of the theory I had formed. The man had brought
+with him a rope to which a grapnel was attached. This rope he had
+thrown up from the outside until the grapnel caught in the mortar at
+the top of the wall. Then he climbed up; the rest was easy. The marks
+of the grapnel are plainly discernible, and the freshness of the
+loosened mortar proves that but a short time has elapsed since he paid
+his last visit."
+
+"Is it your opinion that there was more than one visit?"
+
+"As to that I have formed no opinion."
+
+"All this must have taken some time?"
+
+"Yes, and was done at night when there were few people about. The
+street on which the dead wall abuts is but little frequented. The
+movements of the policeman on the beat were doubtless carefully
+noted."
+
+"Should you say that robbery was the object of this burglarious
+entrance?"
+
+"It is a fair presumption."
+
+"Did you search the clothes of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Remington had gone through the pockets before I came, and
+had replaced what he found in them."
+
+The Juror who had asked previous questions: "How do you know that?"
+
+"He told me so. The watch and chain had not been taken, and there was
+money in his purse, a £5 note and some gold and silver, £9 18s. in
+all. I opened the safe; there were no articles of value in it. If
+there had been any before the death of the deceased they had been
+removed, and the key put back in its original place."
+
+"You found no burglars' tools about?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Nor tools of any kind?"
+
+"No."
+
+"There were desks and drawers in the room adjoining the bedroom. Did
+any of the locks appear to have been forced?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I have no further questions to ask you, Mr. Lambert. Call Lady
+Wharton."
+
+Expectation ran high at this summons. The scenes in Court in which her
+ladyship had played a principal part, and her excited comments upon a
+vital point in the inquiry, had caused her evidence to be looked
+forward to with intense interest.
+
+The Coroner: "We understand that you have a communication of
+importance to make to the jury, and we are now prepared to hear what
+you have to say. You were acquainted with the deceased?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "Whom do you mean by the deceased?"
+
+The Coroner: "You are here to answer questions, Lady Wharton, not to
+ask them."
+
+Lady Wharton: "But I do ask them. I want to know whom you mean by the
+deceased."
+
+The Coroner: "Mr. Samuel Boyd, of course. You were acquainted with
+him?"
+
+"I was very slightly acquainted with him. As a matter of fact I saw
+him only twice in my life. The first time was on the evening of
+Friday, the 1st of March. Lord Wharton had entered into certain
+financial transactions with Mr. Boyd, which did not come to my
+knowledge till a week or two before that date. Some settlement had to
+be made respecting these transactions, and Lord Wharton being ill, I
+undertook the business, having also a little business of my own to do
+with him. So far as I am aware there was no person in the house except
+Mr. Boyd when I called upon him in Catchpole Square. The business
+being of a private nature I entered alone, and ordered my servant to
+wait outside for me in the Square."
+
+"At what hour was this visit paid?"
+
+"At eight o'clock, and I remained with him thirty or forty minutes. I
+had brought with me some bills signed by Lord Wharton and endorsed by
+my brother, Lord Fairfax. In return for these bills I should have
+received bills not then due. It slipped my mind at the time, and I
+wrote to him about them, and about another matter as well. In his
+reply he promised to bring the old bills to our place in Bournemouth
+on Thursday night, the 7th."
+
+"A moment if you please. Do you say that you received a letter from
+the deceased on a date subsequent to Friday, the 1st of March?"
+
+"I say that I received a letter from Mr. Samuel Boyd on the 6th of
+March, and that I saw him on the night of the 7th."
+
+So great was the commotion in the Court at this statement that it was
+two or three minutes before order was restored.
+
+The Coroner: "Do you seriously assert this, Lady Wharton, in the teeth
+of the medical evidence that Mr. Samuel Boyd met his death on the
+night of the 1st or the 2nd of March?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "A fig for the medical evidence! Mr. Samuel Boyd was
+alive last Thursday night, and it is my belief that he is alive at
+this moment!"
+
+The Coroner: "Surely, surely, Lady Wharton----"
+
+Lady Wharton (interrupting excitedly): "And surely, surely, Mr.
+Coroner! Am I to believe the evidence of my senses? I tell you I saw
+the man last Thursday night, and had a conversation with him; and as
+his body has not been found, Mr. Samuel Boyd is alive now, and is
+keeping out of the way, like the thief and scoundrel he is, for the
+purpose of robbing me!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+                   THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+These words, spoken loudly and emphatically, acted like a spark upon
+gunpowder, and it was not until the Coroner threatened several times
+to clear the Court that order was again restored. From Lady Wharton
+the attention of the audience was turned to Reginald, whose head was
+bowed in shame. Some pitied him, some condemned him, and all were
+feverishly curious to hear the outcome of Lady Wharton's disclosures.
+The only crumb of comfort Reginald received was expressed in the close
+clasp of Florence's hand. Fearlessly and indignantly the young girl
+faced the eyes that were directed towards her and her husband; her
+cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, as though crying shame upon
+those who seemed to be mutely accusing the man she loved. Dick looked
+contemptuously upon these silent accusers, and Aunt Rob glared at
+them; it was with some difficulty that Uncle Rob prevented her from
+addressing Lady Wharton in terms of indignant reproach. "Keep still,
+mother, keep still," he whispered, "you will only make matters worse."
+So she held her tongue, and nursed her wrath in bitterness of spirit.
+During the course of this drama of human passion and emotion Mr.
+Finnis, Q.C., rose and addressed the Court.
+
+"Lady Wharton," he said, "has suffered a grievous wrong, and however
+strongly she may express herself, it cannot for one moment be doubted
+that she is speaking what she believes to be the truth. An endeavour
+has been made to prove that Mr. Samuel Boyd was murdered on the Friday
+or Saturday night of the week before last. We do not impeach the
+witnesses, we do not say that they have spoken from interested
+motives. What we do say is that they are in error. That Mr. Samuel
+Boyd did not meet his death at the time mentioned is proved by the
+fact that Lady Wharton saw and conversed with him five or six days
+afterwards. Her testimony is supported by that of her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, who is now in Court, and who also saw and conversed with him.
+As you may gather from her evidence we go farther than that; we say
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd has not been murdered. Her ladyship, as you will
+presently learn, has had, unfortunately for herself, some business
+transactions with Mr. Samuel Boyd, and in view of the strange mystery
+which surrounds the case, I have advised her to make these
+transactions public. I ask you now, Mr. Coroner, to permit her to
+relate her story with as little interruption from yourself as
+possible; and I would also ask Lady Wharton to control her feelings,
+and to refrain from strong language. There are persons in Court
+related to Mr. Samuel Boyd, to whom such epithets as she has applied
+to him must be extremely painful."
+
+The Coroner: "The extraordinary turn this inquiry has taken renders it
+imperatively necessary that a full disclosure be made of all that has
+passed between Lady Wharton and Mr. Samuel Boyd. Now, if your ladyship
+pleases."
+
+Lady Wharton: "And kindly do not interrupt me. I have mentioned that I
+paid Mr. Samuel Boyd a visit on the evening of Friday, the 1st of
+March. On that occasion I gave him bills for a considerable amount in
+renewal of bills shortly to fall due, and I foolishly forgot to ask
+him for the return of the old bills. In the course of the interview I
+requested him--(it is perfectly abominable that I should be compelled
+to speak of it, but I suppose it cannot be prevented)--I requested him
+to advance me a thousand pounds for my personal use, quite apart from
+the business between him and Lord Wharton. With some idea of the
+character of the man I was dealing with, I had brought with me as
+security for the loan certain articles of jewellery of great value,
+for which I had no immediate use, and which I handed over to him.
+After inspecting them he consented to advance the money, but said he
+could not let me have it immediately--which, of course, was a trick
+and subterfuge. I told him that I was going out of town, to our place
+in Bournemouth, and he said he would bring the sum to me there on
+Thursday night--last Thursday, you know--in bank notes. With that
+understanding I left him. Two days afterwards it was brought to my
+recollection that Mr. Boyd had not returned the old bills, and I wrote
+to him about them. At the same time I mentioned that I needed a much
+larger sum for my private personal use than we had arranged for, and I
+requested him to bring £1,500, promising to give him further security
+in the shape of additional jewels, for there is only one way of
+dealing with these Shylocks: they _must_ have their pound of flesh. He
+replied that he would bring the money and the old bills on Thursday
+night. We were giving a ball on that night, and as I did not wish such
+a person to mix with our guests I decided to finish the business with
+him in a retired part of the grounds, and I instructed my servants to
+that effect. He had the assurance not to present himself till one in
+the morning, when a servant brought me his card. I went to the spot I
+had appointed, and there I saw Mr. Samuel Boyd. I asked him if he had
+brought the money; he answered that he had, and he produced a small
+packet, which he declined to part with till I gave him the additional
+jewels I had promised as security. The scoundrel assumed an air of
+saucy independence which completely deceived me. The jewels were in the
+house, and Lord Fairfax happening to be passing at that moment I
+called to him and requested him to remain with Mr. Boyd while I went
+to fetch them. When I returned I gave them to Mr. Boyd, who then
+handed me the packet, saying that it contained the £1,500 in bank
+notes and the old bills. As I could not count the money in the grounds
+I went to the house again, accompanied by Lord Fairfax, and opening
+the packet, discovered that I had been robbed. There were no bills
+inside, and no money, nothing but blank paper cunningly folded to make
+it feel like bank notes. I hurried back, with the intention of giving
+the thief into custody, but though search was made for him in every
+direction he was not to be found. I want to know what has become of
+him and of my property."
+
+The Coroner: "This is a strange story, Lady Wharton, and is in direct
+conflict with the evidence that has been tendered."
+
+Lady Wharton: "The evidence that has been tendered is in direct
+conflict with the facts of the case. In all my life I have never heard
+such a tissue of misrepresentations and delusions."
+
+"May you not yourself be labouring under a delusion?"
+
+"You had better say at once that I am not in my right senses."
+
+"Pray do not speak so excitedly. May you not have been deceived by an
+accidental likeness to Mr. Samuel Boyd in the person who presented
+himself?"
+
+"It is an absurd suggestion. There is no possibility of my having been
+mistaken. I tell you it was the man himself."
+
+The Coroner: "Did you keep a copy of the letter you wrote to Mr.
+Boyd?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "I am not in the habit of keeping copies of my letters.
+I leave that to tradesmen."
+
+"Have you the letter you received from him?"
+
+"I have brought it with me."
+
+Lady Wharton handed the letter to the Coroner, who read it aloud:
+
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd presents his compliments to Lady Wharton, and will
+have the pleasure of waiting upon her ladyship on Thursday night with
+the bills which he forgot to return last Friday evening, and with the
+additional advance her ladyship requires. Mr. Boyd hopes that her
+ladyship will be prepared with the jewels she speaks of, and that they
+will be adequate security for the increase in the loan.
+
+"Catchpole Square, N., 5th March, 1896."
+
+
+Lady Wharton: "And people come here and swear that at the time the man
+wrote that letter he had been dead five days! Can anything be more
+preposterous?"
+
+The Coroner: "We shall have witnesses before us who are familiar with
+Mr. Boyd's handwriting, and this letter will be submitted to them.
+Have you the visiting card Mr. Boyd gave your servant in Bournemouth?"
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"Could you identify the jewels?"
+
+"I can swear to them, if they are fortunately recovered."
+
+"That is all I have to ask you at present, Lady Wharton. If Lord
+Fairfax is present perhaps he will come forward."
+
+Lord Fairfax (advancing from the body of the Court): "No objection."
+
+"You have heard the account given by Lady Wharton of the visit of a
+person last Thursday night who announced himself as Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Quite true."
+
+"You saw that person?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you had any dealings with Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Happy to say, no."
+
+"Then you are not acquainted with him?"
+
+"Not the pleasure."
+
+"Then you cannot say it was Mr. Boyd."
+
+"Take Lady Wharton's word for it. Her ladyship presented him. She
+said, 'Mr. Samuel Boyd, Catchpole Square.' I said, 'Ah.'"
+
+"You conversed with him?"
+
+"He conversed with me. Fifty words to my one."
+
+"What was the subject of the conversation?"
+
+"Money. Asked if I wanted it. I said every fellow wanted it. Said he
+would be happy to oblige. I said, 'Ah.'"
+
+"When Lady Wharton returned did you remain with them?"
+
+"At her request. Saw her give him jewels. Saw him give her packet. Saw
+her dismiss him. Glad to be rid of fellow."
+
+"You went back to the house, and was present when she opened the
+packet?"
+
+"Yes. Blank paper. Infernal scoundrel."
+
+"Was information given to the police?"
+
+"Wanted to. Lady Wharton said no, go to lawyer. Went to Mr. Finnis
+Saturday. Then, surprising report in papers. Man murdered, or supposed
+to be."
+
+"That is all you know, Lord Fairfax?"
+
+"All I know."
+
+The Coroner (to the jury): "Before we call Mr. Reginald Boyd I wish to
+ask Mr. Richard Remington a question or two, arising out of Lady
+Wharton's evidence."
+
+The profound amazement with which Dick had listened to this evidence
+was not reflected in his countenance as he stepped airily forward.
+Never in his life had he so strongly felt the need for dissimulation
+as at the present time. It was forced upon him--by the discoveries he
+had himself made and by the testimony of the witnesses who had been
+examined--that in this mystery another agency was at work the
+existence of which he had hitherto only dimly suspected. The person
+who had presented himself to Lady Wharton as Samuel Boyd and had
+committed the fraud upon her must have been intimately familiar with
+the business operations of the murdered man, and must have had free
+access to the house in Catchpole Square. He must also have a talent
+for disguise to have so imposed upon Lady Wharton. He could think of
+but one person who had the knowledge requisite to carry out the
+deception--Abel Death. But to do what Lady Wharton had described
+needed courage, coolness, skill, and an evenly balanced brain; none
+but a master of resource, and one who had perfect command over
+himself, could have brought to a successful issue a task so difficult.
+Dick could hardly believe that Abel Death was equal to a man[oe]uvre
+so daring, a scheme so full of peril, in which a single false step
+would bring destruction upon him. Dick felt as if every hour added a
+new mystery to those that lay unsolved. He had one cause for deep
+gratitude, and he gladly welcomed it. These disclosures helped to
+dispel the cloud of suspicion that hung over Reginald. Whatever else
+he might have done, he could have had no personal part in the
+duplicity and in the robbery of the jewels. How far this would help to
+clear him in the minds of others who might suspect him had yet to be
+seen. They might argue that he was in league with another man, and
+that the imposition practised upon Lady Wharton was part of a
+cunningly laid scheme, all the details of which had been carefully
+considered and mapped out beforehand. There was, indeed, but little
+light in the cloud that hung over Florence's husband.
+
+This was the state of Dick's mind when he submitted himself for the
+third time to the Coroner.
+
+The Coroner: "Since you were examined on Monday, have you continued
+your search in Mr. Samuel Boyd's house?"
+
+Dick: "Yes, I have carefully searched every room, every cupboard,
+every drawer."
+
+"Have you found any jewels?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Any bills of acceptance?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Nothing of any value?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Look at this visiting card which was presented to Lady Wharton on
+Thursday night in Bournemouth. Do you recognise it as one of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's regular visiting cards?"
+
+"It is exactly like. There are thirty or forty similar cards in a
+drawer in the writing table."
+
+"You are doubtless familiar with Mr. Boyd's handwriting?"
+
+"I was very familiar with it, but that is some time ago. I may err in
+my recollection of it."
+
+"So far as your recollection serves is this letter received by Lady
+Wharton on the 6th of March, and dated the 5th, in his writing?"
+
+"It cannot be his writing because on the 5th of March he was dead."
+
+"Confine yourself strictly to answering the questions put to you.
+Should you say it was in Mr. Samuel Boyd's handwriting?"
+
+Dick examined the letter with great care. He had in his pocket at that
+very moment proof positive in the shape of the incriminating document
+written by Samuel Boyd only a few hours before he was murdered, the
+production of which would have caused Reginald's instant arrest. The
+writing on the letter was like it, and he would have given much to be
+able to compare them. After a long pause he said, "It looks like his
+writing, but I am not an expert in caligraphy."
+
+The Coroner made a gesture as if he had exhausted his questions, and
+Dick was about to step back, when the Juror interposed.
+
+The Juror: "Have you found a pistol of any kind in the house?"
+
+"Now, who is prompting you?" thought Dick, as he confronted the Juror,
+a sallow-faced, pock-marked man, with an aggressive voice. "No," he
+answered aloud, "I found no pistol."
+
+The Juror: "The detective officer who has been examined spoke of a
+recently fired bullet which he extracted from the wall of the office.
+How is it that in your evidence on Monday you said nothing of this
+bullet?"
+
+Dick: "In the first place, because I was not asked. In the second
+place, because on Monday nothing was known about it."
+
+There was a titter in Court at this, and the juror flushed up and was
+silent.
+
+The Coroner: "When was the bullet found?"
+
+Dick: "Yesterday."
+
+"It had escaped your notice before the detective officer pointed it
+out?"
+
+"It was I who first pointed it out. We were examining the wall
+together when I said, 'What is this?' My question led to the discovery
+of the bullet."
+
+The Coroner: "Call Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+A firm pressure of Florence's hand, and Reginald faced the jury. Dick
+moved a little nearer to the young wife, whose heart was throbbing
+violently. Reginald was very pale, and traces of the sickness he had
+passed through were visible in his face, though he bore himself with
+composure.
+
+The Coroner: "You have been ill, and probably would like to be
+seated."
+
+Reginald: "Thank you, Mr. Coroner, I prefer to stand."
+
+"As you please. We understand that you went to your father's house in
+Catchpole Square to see the body of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, I went there on Sunday."
+
+"You saw the body?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And identified it?"
+
+"Yes. It was my father's body."
+
+"In the teeth of the conflicting evidence that has been given, you are
+positive?"
+
+"I am positive. I wish with all my heart and soul that there was room
+for doubt."
+
+"We recognise that your position is a painful one, and we should, of
+course, wish to hear all the evidence it is in your power to give, but
+I consider it right to say that you are not compelled to answer every
+question put to you."
+
+"There is no question that I shall decline to answer. I am a willing
+witness in a most unhappy tragedy."
+
+"When did you last see your father alive?"
+
+"On Friday the 1st of March."
+
+"Before that day were you in the habit of visiting him regularly?"
+
+"Before that day I had not seen him for two years. I regret to say we
+were not on friendly terms."
+
+The Juror: "What was the cause of the disagreement between you?"
+
+The Coroner: "We cannot have that at this point of the inquiry."
+
+The Juror: "The witness states that there is no question that he will
+decline to answer, and the inquiry will be incomplete unless we arrive
+at all the facts of the case."
+
+Reginald: "I am willing to answer everything."
+
+The Coroner: "We will proceed in something like order. The last time
+you saw your father alive was on Friday the 1st of March. Did the
+interview take place in his house in Catchpole Square?"
+
+"Yes, on that day I paid two visits to the house, the first in the
+afternoon, the second at night."
+
+The Juror: "How did you obtain admittance in the afternoon?"
+
+The Coroner (to the Juror): "I must request you not to make these
+frequent interruptions; they tend to confuse the issue."
+
+The Juror: "With all due respect, sir, it is the jury who have to
+return the verdict"----
+
+The Coroner: "Under my guidance and direction."
+
+The Juror: "Not entirely. We are not simply machines. You can advise
+us, and clear up knotty points, but you cannot dictate to us.
+Otherwise you might as well hold this inquiry without our aid. The
+question I put to the witness is a very simple one."
+
+The Coroner: "Very well." (To Reginald.) "Did you obtain admission
+into your father's house on Friday afternoon in the usual way?"
+
+Reginald: "No. I knocked at the door two or three times, and receiving
+no answer, admitted myself with a private latchkey I had in my
+pocket."
+
+The Juror: "You see, Mr. Coroner, I had an object in asking the
+question."
+
+The Coroner: "How did you become possessed of the latchkey?"
+
+Reginald: "It was one I used when I lived in Catchpole Square with my
+father. When I left the home I took it with me."
+
+"Having let yourself in, what then did you do?"
+
+"I went upstairs to the office in the expectation of seeing my father.
+He was not at home. The only person in the house was his clerk, Abel
+Death."
+
+"You were personally acquainted with Abel Death?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And on friendly terms with him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why did he not open the street door for you?"
+
+"He had been instructed not to admit anyone during my father's
+absence."
+
+"Not even to go down to the door to see who it was who sought
+entrance?"
+
+"Not even that. He was ordered not to stir out of the office."
+
+"Was your father a very strict man?"
+
+"Very strict."
+
+"Had you a definite object in view when you paid the visit, apart from
+the natural desire to see him?"
+
+"I had. My circumstances were not good, and I went to see if I could
+not improve them. My mother had left me a small fortune, and had
+appointed a trustee to administer it. This trustee had given me to
+understand that when I was of age I should come into possession of
+£8,000. I spent my youth and early manhood abroad, and when I returned
+home my trustee was dead, and my father had the disposition of my
+inheritance. He wished me to join him in his business, but I had a
+distaste for it, and we had many arguments and discussions on the
+subject."
+
+The Juror: "Quarrels?"
+
+"I suppose they would be considered so. We were equally firm, and the
+consequence of our disagreement was that there was a breach between
+us, which ended in my leaving his house."
+
+"Voluntarily?"
+
+"He sent me away. Before I left he asked me what I intended to live
+upon, and I answered that I had my inheritance. Greatly to my surprise
+he informed me that all the money had been spent upon me during and
+three or four years after my minority. He showed me a statement of
+accounts which I did not understand."
+
+"Interrupting you here, has that statement of accounts been found
+among your father's papers?"
+
+"No statement of accounts has been found. Shall I proceed?"
+
+"If you wish."
+
+"It is hardly my wish, but I certainly desire to anticipate questions
+which might be put to me by the jury."
+
+The Juror: "Quite right. It will save trouble."
+
+Reginald: "I questioned the correctness of these accounts, and my
+father said he was ready to prove their correctness in a court of law.
+Such a course was repugnant to my feelings, and we parted, my resolve
+being to carve out a path for myself. I was not fortunate, and on the
+day I visited my father I was practically penniless. I was then
+married, and I desired to make a home for my wife, which in my then
+circumstances was not possible. It was this which drove me to making
+another appeal to my father to restore money which I believed was
+rightfully mine. On the occasion of my afternoon visit I remained only
+a short time with Mr. Abel Death, and before I left I informed him of
+my intention to come again at night. I paid my second visit at about
+ten o'clock, which I thought was the best time to find my father
+alone. I knocked at the door, and he came down and asked who was
+there. He recognised my voice when I answered him, and he refused to
+admit me. I told him from without that I was determined to see him, if
+not that night, the next day or night, and if not then, that I would
+continue my efforts until I succeeded. Upon that he unlocked and
+unbolted the door, and I entered and followed him upstairs into the
+office, where I explained the motive for my visit. I informed him that
+I was married, and that it was necessary I should provide for my wife.
+We were together half an hour or so, and he refused to assist me, and
+denied that any money was due to me. I offered to accept a small sum,
+and to sign a full quittance, but he turned a deaf ear to all my
+appeals, and at length I left him. Mr. Coroner, I am aware that in
+this disclosure I have touched upon matters which do not come strictly
+within the scope of your inquiry. I have done so because I wish to
+avoid the suspicion of any reluctance on my part to make known to you
+and the jury all my proceedings with respect to my father. Private
+matters have already been introduced which affect me closely, and
+while I dispute the justice of the direction which this inquiry has
+taken I recognise that more mischief may be done by silence than by a
+frank and open confession."
+
+The Coroner: "Your statement is a voluntary one, and much of it is not
+pertinent to the inquiry. You say that you visited your father at
+about ten o'clock?"
+
+"At about that hour."
+
+"You left the house before eleven o'clock?"
+
+"Certainly before that hour."
+
+"Were you and your father quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Did any one apply for admission while you were with him?"
+
+"No one."
+
+"There was no other person except yourselves in the house?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge."
+
+"Did your father accompany you to the street door?"
+
+"I do not think he did."
+
+"Cannot you say with certainty?"
+
+"No. I regret that, as regards the last few minutes of the interview,
+I cannot entirely depend upon my memory. I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. I have endeavoured in vain to recall every
+incident and word, and it has occurred to me that the fever from which
+I immediately afterwards suffered, and which kept me to my bed for
+several days, may have been upon me then. I have a recollection--not
+very clear--that as I went downstairs I felt in my pocket for the
+latchkey."
+
+"For what reason? You did not need the key to open the door from
+within?"
+
+"I cannot say why I did it. I can only tell you what is in my mind."
+
+"Have you the latchkey now?"
+
+"No, I have lost it."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I do not know where."
+
+"Have you searched for it?"
+
+"Yes, without success."
+
+"Between your two visits to your father on that Friday did you come
+into communication with Mr. Abel Death?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did you not see him in Catchpole Square, or in its vicinity?"
+
+"I repeat that I did not see him, and had no communication with him."
+
+The Juror: "Angry words passed between you and your father?"
+
+"I am afraid so."
+
+"Threatening words?"
+
+"Not on my part."
+
+"On his?" (A momentary pause.) "I do not insist upon a reply."
+
+"Oh, I will reply. My father threatened to bring an action against me
+for a balance of £1,200, which he said was due to him on the account."
+
+"You disputed the correctness of the account?"
+
+"Certainly I disputed it."
+
+"Did you accuse your father of fraud?"
+
+The Coroner: "Order, order!"
+
+The question was not answered.
+
+The Juror: "Is it true that during these last two years you have been
+living under an assumed name?"
+
+"I have been passing as Mr. Reginald. Reginald is my Christian name."
+
+"Was it as Mr. Reginald you introduced yourself to the family of
+Inspector Robson?"
+
+"I was introduced to them by that name."
+
+"They did not know you were the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"They did not."
+
+"And you did not inform them?"
+
+"Not for some time--not, indeed, till I was married."
+
+"That is quite lately?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you any objection to inform us why you suppressed the name of
+Boyd? Were you ashamed of it?"
+
+"You are pressing me rather hardly."
+
+The Coroner: "I quite agree. Many of these questions are totally
+irrelevant."
+
+The Juror: "Surely, Mr. Coroner, it is of importance that we should be
+made acquainted with the true state of the relations existing between
+Mr. Samuel Boyd and his only child. Putting aside Lady Wharton's
+statements and impressions, and assuming that the medical evidence is
+correct, the witness is the last person who saw the deceased alive."
+
+Reginald: "That is not so. Some person or persons must have seen him
+after I left him on Friday night."
+
+The Juror: "Well, the last person who has given evidence in this
+Court?"
+
+Reginald: "Yes."
+
+"Have you taken out letters of administration?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"As matters stand at present you are the only person who has benefited
+by the death of your father?"
+
+The Coroner: "I will not allow questions of this nature to be put to
+the witness, who has given his evidence very fairly, and has shown
+every disposition to assist the Court."
+
+Reginald: "I should like to explain that I did not know my father had
+not made a will. My impression was that he had made one, disinheriting
+me. Even now, although no will has yet been found, one may be
+forthcoming."
+
+The Juror: "Extremely unlikely. There has been plenty of time for its
+production."
+
+The Coroner: "You have heard the evidence respecting the bullet in the
+wall. Is it within your knowledge that your father kept a pistol by
+him?"
+
+Reginald: "During the time I lived with him he always had a loaded
+pistol. It was a Colt's revolver. I do not know whether, during the
+last two years, he continued to keep it."
+
+"Did your father ever fire the pistol?"
+
+"Never, to my knowledge."
+
+"On what day were you taken ill?"
+
+"On the day following my visit to my father. I recollect feeling giddy
+and light-headed when I returned home that night. I went to bed about
+midnight, and the next morning I was too ill to rise. The
+circumstances of my marriage have been made public in the course of
+this inquiry. I was living alone in Park Street, Islington, and I had
+intervals of consciousness during which I wrote from time to time to
+my wife, who was living with her parents. Eventually she came to nurse
+me, and then the secret of our marriage was at an end. She has related
+how, being alarmed at my condition, she went to Catchpole Square last
+Tuesday night to inform my father, and, if possible, to bring him to
+me. I am deeply, deeply grateful to her for the love and devotion she
+has shown towards me, and to her parents for their kindness and
+consideration."
+
+"Where were you on Thursday night?"
+
+"Ill in bed. For a week, from Saturday to Saturday, I did not leave my
+room."
+
+Reginald's loving look towards Florence, and his tender accents in
+speaking of her, made a strong impression upon the spectators as, his
+examination concluded, he retired to his seat by her side.
+
+The Coroner (to the jury): "An hour ago I received a communication
+from a gentleman who stated that he had evidence of importance to
+tender which he thinks we ought to hear with as little delay as
+possible. This gentleman, I understand, is in waiting outside. It may
+be a convenient time to examine him. Call Dr. Pye."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+                      DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.
+
+
+There was an interval of almost breathless suspense as, upon the
+Coroner's instructions, an officer left the Court. Dick looked forward
+to the entrance of Dr. Pye with no less curiosity than the other
+spectators, but mingled with this curiosity was an element of alarm.
+Dark forebodings crossed his mind; he feared he knew not what, but
+still he smiled confidently at Florence when she turned imploringly to
+him, for she also was in that state of tension which made every fresh
+feature of the inquiry a terrifying presage. Presently the officer
+returned, followed by Dr. Pye.
+
+The new witness was tall, with a slight stoop in his shoulders, his
+face was ashen grey, his brows knit and concentrated, his eyes
+habitually downcast, but, when raised, irradiated with a keen steady
+light, giving one the impression that the pupils might be of steel,
+which was indeed their colour, his mouth with its thin long lips
+compressed, his hands long and nervous, his voice calm, clear, and
+deliberate, his manner altogether that of a man of supreme moral
+strength and self-possession, who could hold his passions in control,
+and make them subservient to his will.
+
+"In volunteering a communication which may have some relation to your
+inquiry," he said, addressing the Coroner, without bestowing a glance
+upon the spectators, "I am impelled simply by a sense of public duty.
+As to its value you will be the best judge. What I have to offer to
+the Court is merely the narration of an occurrence which came under my
+observation on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when I was
+making some experiments in chemistry in a room at the back of my house
+in Shore Street, the window in which looks out upon Catchpole Square,
+and commands a front view of the house in which Mr. Samuel Boyd
+resided. It is my habit to work late, and it was not till three in the
+morning that my labours were at an end. At that hour I was standing at
+the window, gazing aimlessly into the solitude of Catchpole Square,
+when my attention was arrested by movements at Mr. Boyd's street door.
+It was gradually opened, and the form of a man emerged from the house.
+The night was dark, and what I saw was necessarily dim and uncertain
+in my sight, but it appeared to me that the man, halting on the
+threshold, lingered in the attitude of a person who wished to escape
+observation. This impression impelled me to a closer scrutiny of the
+man's movements. I have in my room a device of my own construction in
+the shape of a small box containing a coil of magnesium wire. By
+withdrawing the curtain from a glass globe set in this box, and by
+pressing a spring, I can, upon lighting the wire, throw a powerful
+light upon objects at a great distance, remaining myself in darkness.
+There appeared to me to be something so suspicious in the shadowy
+movements of the person at Mr. Boyd's door at such an hour that I
+brought my box to the window, and threw the light upon the Square. It
+was the work of a moment, but in that moment I had a clear view of the
+man's features. They were of deathlike paleness, and seemed to be
+convulsed by fear, but, I argued inly, this might have been caused
+by the fright occasioned by the sudden glare of light falling upon
+him--resembling in some respects a flash of lightning, and calculated
+to startle the strongest man. In his attitude of watchfulness--which I
+may call the first stage of my observation of him--he stood holding
+the street door partially open, thus providing for himself a swift
+retreat into the house in the event of a policeman entering the
+Square. The second stage was his fear-struck appearance, from whatever
+cause it proceeded. The third stage--occurring when the light was
+extinguished--was the shadowy movement of a man gliding out of the
+Square. Then his final disappearance."
+
+The Coroner: "You say, Dr. Pye, that you had a clear view of the man's
+features. Did you recognise them?"
+
+Dr. Pye: "No, sir, the man was a stranger to me."
+
+"There appears to be some kind of connection between the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd and the disappearance of a clerk in his employ, Mr. Abel
+Death? Have you any knowledge of this clerk?"
+
+"No, I never saw the man."
+
+"Were you acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Very slightly."
+
+"If you saw the man again, could you identify him?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Have you ever seen any other man in Catchpole Square leaving Mr.
+Boyd's house in the middle of the night?"
+
+"Never. It was the unusualness of the incident that attracted my
+attention."
+
+As he uttered these words he raised his eyes and slowly looked around.
+When they reached the spot where Inspector Robson and his family were
+seated his gaze was arrested. The eyes of all the spectators,
+following his, were now fixed upon the group. A wave of magnetism
+passed through the Court, and, to a more or less degree, affected the
+nerves of every one present. Aunt Rob clutched her husband's sleeve,
+and Florence's eyes dilated with a nameless fear. The long pause was
+broken by Dr. Pye, who murmured, but in a voice loud enough to be
+heard by all,--
+
+"It is a very strange likeness."
+
+"To whom do you refer?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"To that gentleman," replied Dr. Pye, pointing to Reginald. "He bears
+a singular resemblance to the man I saw leaving Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night."
+
+Reginald started to his feet with an indignant protest on his lips,
+and there was great confusion in Court, in the midst of which Dick
+gently pulled Reginald down to his seat. "It is easily disproved," he
+said, in a low tone. "You were home and in bed before midnight. Be
+calm, Florence, there is nothing to fear, nothing to fear." But his
+heart fell; he saw the net closing round those he loved.
+
+The Coroner (to Dr. Pye): "The gentleman you are pointing to is Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's son."
+
+Dr. Pye: "I did not know. I say he resembles the man."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Who can be sure of anything? In hundreds of my experiments all my
+calculations have been overturned at the last moment. I have been sure
+of success, and the crucial test has given me the lie. It is the same
+in human affairs, and in this case I can do no more than record my
+impressions. In spite of the conditions under which I saw the man his
+likeness to this gentleman is very striking; but I would impress upon
+you that great wrongs have been committed by accidental likenesses,
+and there are cases on record in which men have been condemned to
+death, the proof of their innocence coming too late to save them."
+Florence shuddered and closed her eyes. To her fevered mind her
+beloved husband was on his trial, surrounded by pitiless judges. Dr.
+Pye continued: "There is a notable instance of this in Charles
+Dickens's story, 'A Tale of Two Cities,' where, happily, a life is
+saved instead of being sacrificed. The incident, strangely enough,
+occurs also in a court of justice."
+
+The Coroner: "That is fiction. This is fact."
+
+Dr. Pye: "True. If you have nothing more to ask I shall be glad to
+retire. The atmosphere of this Court is unpleasant to me."
+
+The Coroner intimating that he had no further questions to put, Dr.
+Pye retired, and the inquiry was adjourned till the following day.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+            DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+         IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.
+
+
+In great agitation Reginald and his party left the Court and turned in
+the direction of home, followed at a short distance by a few persons,
+whose appetite, whetted by what had transpired, thirsted for more.
+Those whose fate seemed to hang upon the result of the inquiry
+exchanged but few words on the way. Dick was plunged in thought, and
+Florence clung more closely to Reginald. Inspector Robson and Aunt Rob
+exchanged disturbed glances; she was wildly indignant, but his
+official experience warned him that Reginald was in peril.
+
+With respect to the evidence given by Dr. Pye the one chance for the
+young man lay in his being able to prove that he had returned to his
+lodgings before twelve o'clock on that fatal Friday night, and did not
+leave them again. This proof would not only clear him of the suspicion
+which naturally attached to him through Dr. Pye's evidence, but would
+clear him in other respects. But was the proof obtainable? Reginald's
+silence on the point rendered it doubtful. Could he have brought it
+forward he would have been eager to speak of it.
+
+When the little party reached the street in which Aunt Rob's house was
+situated Inspector Robson, turning, saw Mr. Lambert, the detective who
+had given evidence about the finding of the bullet. Telling his people
+to go into the house, and saying he would join them presently, he
+crossed over to the detective, and gave him good day, to which the
+inspector responded. Then they stood a moment or two without saying
+anything further.
+
+"On duty?" asked Inspector Robson.
+
+"Partly."
+
+"Anything new stirring?"
+
+"Nothing new."
+
+"I won't beat about the bush," said Inspector Robson, "you have been
+following us."
+
+The detective rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"Come, come, Lambert," continued Inspector Robson, "you and I have
+been friends this many a year, and friends I hope we'll remain. Be
+frank with me."
+
+"Is it fair to put it that way, Robson?" said the detective. "When
+duty calls does friendship count?"
+
+"Perhaps not, perhaps not," replied Inspector Robson, hurriedly, "but
+you see the close personal interest I have in this unfortunate affair.
+Are you shadowing my son-in-law?"
+
+The detective rubbed his chin again. It was a habit with him when
+there was anything unusually grave in his mind, and Inspector Robson
+understood the meaning it conveyed.
+
+"Now, I ask you, Lambert," he said, "could any man in the world have
+given his evidence more fairly?"
+
+"No man," answered the detective; "but there's the outside of a man,
+and the inside of a man. We've had some experience of that, I think.
+If it's intimated to me to take up a case, I take it up. I won't go
+farther than that, so don't press me. It isn't often that a case so
+full of mystery crops up, and there'll be a lot of credit for the man
+who manages to get to the heart of it. It's something more than bread
+and butter: it's cake, and I don't want another man to get that cake.
+Now, mind you, I don't offer an opinion, but so far as this case has
+gone there are two or three parties to it."
+
+"My son-in-law for one?" asked Inspector Robson, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, your son-in-law for one. I don't say that he's not as innocent
+as the babe unborn, but you've got to convince people. Just you ask a
+hundred men and women, and half of 'em 'll wag their heads at mention
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd's name. The other half 'll wag their heads at
+mention of Mr. Abel Death's name. I'd give a lot to lay hands on that
+chap. He's the second party in the case. That's a queer story Lady
+Wharton told, and of course a true story, only it wasn't the real
+Samuel Boyd she saw. Somebody made up for him. If it wasn't Abel
+Death, it was the third party in the case. What a nerve!" said the
+detective, admiringly. "I couldn't have done it better myself."
+
+"That ought to remove the suspicions against my son-in-law," said
+Inspector Robson. "There are three or four witnesses who can prove he
+never left his bed for a week."
+
+"That's all right, but lawyers will say collusion, conspiracy. We're
+speaking confidentially, you know."
+
+"Yes, and I'm obliged to you, Lambert."
+
+"No need to be. We've been long in the service, you and me--boys
+together, weren't we?--and we can take credit for keeping one thing
+steady before us. Duty. The case, you see, doesn't hang only on what
+took place in Bournemouth last Thursday night; it hangs quite as much
+upon what took place in Catchpole Square the Friday before. A man is
+accountable for his actions, and if there's a mystery that's got to be
+cleared up, as this has got to be, and Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned
+in it--which there's no denying--the law calls upon him to explain his
+actions."
+
+"There's many a man held responsible and accountable for what, in the
+absence of witnesses, he finds it out of his power to explain, and
+which, in the nature of the circumstances, he couldn't reasonably be
+expected to explain. But that doesn't prove him guilty."
+
+"I don't say it does. The hardship to that man is that the law is the
+law, and, in the absence of an explanation that can be proved to be
+true, refuses to be satisfied. 'Guilty or not guilty?' says the law.
+'Not guilty,' says the man. Does the law accept it? No. It proceeds to
+open the case. Robson, you've my best wishes, and I hope you and yours
+will come well through it. Let us leave it there. We've had a
+comfortable chat; let us leave it there."
+
+"Very well," said Inspector Robson, rather stiffly, "we'll leave it
+there. If any charge is brought against my son-in-law he will be ready
+to meet it. I pledge you my word that he'll not run away. Perhaps, if
+any decided step is resolved upon you will give me timely notice, for
+old friendship's sake, in return for my promise that you will meet
+with no obstruction in the performance of your duty. It will help me
+to soften the shock to my dear daughter--our only child, Lambert, the
+sweetest girl!"----
+
+He turned his head, to hide his emotion. Lambert pressed his hand, and
+said,
+
+"You shall be the first to hear of it, Robson. Cheer up. Things mayn't
+be so bad as some people suspect."
+
+Inspector Robson nodded and left him, and rejoined his family in the
+house. Aunt Rob had seen him talking to the detective from the window,
+and had been so successful in instilling courage into Florence and
+Reginald that cheerful faces greeted his entrance; the cloud left his
+own at this unexpectedly bright reception.
+
+"We've been talking about things, father," said Aunt Rob in a brisk
+voice, "and have made up our minds not to mope and mourn because a bit
+of trouble seems to be coming on us. If it passes all the better, but
+if we've got to fight it we'll fight it bravely."
+
+"Bravo, mother," said Uncle Rob, "that's the right spirit to show.
+Here's my hand, Reginald."
+
+"And here's mine," said Aunt Rob, "with my heart in it."
+
+"Thank you both," said Reginald. "I can bear anything rather than that
+you should doubt me."
+
+"No fear of that, my dear. You've behaved like a man, from first to
+last. Never speak ill of the dead, they say, and I'm not going to. He
+was your father, and if his ways were not our ways, we're the better
+for it, and while he lived he was the worse for it. You were right in
+refusing to take up his business, right in trying to carve out an
+honourable career for yourself, right in going to see him that Friday,
+and trying to get the money you were entitled to. Not that you _would_
+have got it--but, there, I won't say anything against one that's gone
+to where I hope he'll be forgiven. You were right in everything,
+Reginald."
+
+"God bless you, mother," said Florence.
+
+"Right even in falling in love with our dear Florence?" said Reginald,
+tenderly.
+
+"Who could help it, bless her sweet face! Give me a kiss, my son, and
+you, too, Florence, and you, too, Dick, and you, too, father. And mind
+you, lad, I'm as glad as glad can be that you gave your evidence as
+you did to-day, and made a clean breast of it. You spoke the truth,
+the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, with love and innocence in
+your heart. Now, father, what did the detective have to say to you?
+Don't be afraid to tell us. Is he keeping an eye upon Reginald?"
+
+"He is, mother; and I said if any charge is brought against him he'll
+be ready to meet it."
+
+"Of course he will, and we'll stand by him, shoulder to shoulder.
+Father, you've been thirty years in the service, and you ought by this
+time to be pretty well used to the ways of witnesses. What is your
+opinion of Dr. Pye as a witness?"
+
+"He gave his evidence in a straightforward manner," replied Uncle Rob,
+guardedly. "What one has to consider in reckoning up a witness is the
+effect he produces upon judge and jury, whether they put faith in what
+he says, or throw doubt upon it."
+
+"Which way would it be with Dr. Pye?"
+
+"They'd believe every word he spoke."
+
+"What do you think, Dick?" asked Aunt Rob.
+
+"I don't trust him," Dick replied.
+
+"Give your reason."
+
+"Can't. Haven't any?"
+
+"Prejudice, then, Dick," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"Perhaps. Call it that. Aunt, have you never seen a man you disliked,
+without being able to account for it?"
+
+"It's happened more than once."
+
+"And you've found him out afterwards to be a bad lot?"
+
+"That has happened, too."
+
+"A kind of instinct, you see," said Dick.
+
+"What gets over me," said Aunt Rob, shaking her head, as though she
+had not made up her mind, "is the way he stood up for Reginald. All he
+seemed to want was fair play."
+
+"Yes, seemed to want," said Dick, doggedly.
+
+"At all events it was honest in him not to be too positive about the
+resemblance to the man he saw. Do you know anyone, Dick, that answers
+to the description and that might be mistaken for Reginald?"
+
+"No one, aunt."
+
+"Not Abel Death?"
+
+"Not a bit like Reginald."
+
+"In the name of all that's mysterious, what is he keeping out of the
+way for? Did you ever know a case in such a tangle?"
+
+"Never. I don't wonder that Lambert is keen upon it. It would make his
+fortune to unravel the tangle."
+
+"I mean to unravel it," said Dick. "Oh, you may shake your head, aunt.
+I've certain ideas I'm not going to speak of just now; you would think
+me mad if I were to tell you what they were. If you keep your mind
+upon a thing it's wonderful how ideas crowd upon you."
+
+"Leading too often to confusion," observed Uncle Rob. "The main thing
+is a starting point."
+
+"I've a dozen," said Dick.
+
+"That's the mischief of it. You put a bloodhound on the track. What's
+the consequence unless he gets a scent? He flounders; he might as well
+be a mongrel for all the use he is. Coming back to the evidence that
+was given in Court to-day, might not the man who presented himself to
+Lady Wharton as your father, Reginald, be the same man Dr. Pye saw,
+who made himself up to resemble you in case any one caught sight of
+him. Such things have been done, you know."
+
+"Look out!" cried Dick, starting forward, and catching Reginald, who
+was swaying forward.
+
+"We'll talk no more of this miserable business to-day," said Aunt Rob,
+in a tone of stern decision. "Take him up to bed, Florence, and keep
+him quiet. If we're not careful he'll be having a relapse."
+
+Reginald, indeed, had overtaxed his strength, and the caution did not
+come too soon.
+
+"I must be off," said Dick, when Florence and Reginald were gone. "If
+I'm not back before nine o'clock you need not expect to see me again
+to-night."
+
+In point of fact he had made up his mind to sleep in Catchpole Square,
+and to keep secret vigil there. But first he must go to Reginald's old
+lodgings in Park Street to speak to the landlady. So much depended
+upon proof being forthcoming that Reginald's account of his movements
+after leaving his father's house was true that Dick could not rest
+until he had questioned her.
+
+When Dick said to his uncle that he had ideas which would be
+considered mad if he revealed them, it was no mere figure of speech.
+So weird and grotesque was one of these ideas that, even in the midst
+of his gloomy forebodings, he could not resist a smile as he pondered
+upon it. "It's a game that two can play at," he muttered, "and my
+short experience on the stage ought to carry me successfully through.
+It may be time wasted, but it's worth the trying. We'll see whether
+that flashlight invention of Dr. Pye will come upon the scene again.
+If it does he'll see something that will astonish his weak nerves."
+
+He brightened up when he presented himself to the landlady, who not
+only welcomed him because he was a favourite with every one, but
+because he might be able to impart something new relating to a mystery
+with which, through the fact of the son of Samuel Boyd being her
+lodger, she was indirectly connected. Mrs. Weevil was one of those
+women to whom a gossip is one of the most enjoyable things in life,
+and she gave Dick good day with glad anticipation in her voice.
+
+"And 'ow's the poor young gentleman, sir," she said, "after 'is day at
+the inkwich? I've been readin' about it in the papers, but wot I say
+is, if it wos the last word I spoke, it ain't no more like 'im than
+chalk is to cheese."
+
+"What is not like him?" inquired Dick.
+
+"''Is pictcher, sir, and yours, too, sir,' I ses to Mrs. Porter, the 'am
+and beef shop across the road, 'It's a shame,' I ses, 'that sech
+things is allowed. If a portrait it is, a portrait it ought to be.
+Actions 'ave been brought for less.' 'Wot you say, Mrs. Weevil, I
+say,' ses Mrs. Porter, 'but we're obliged to put up with it. Them
+newspaper men don't mind wot liberties they take.'"
+
+Dick listened with patience to this and to much more to the same
+effect, and then approached the object of his visit.
+
+"I've come to ask you," he said, "whether you recollect what occurred
+last Friday night week."
+
+"Ah," she said, abstractedly, running her eye along the hem of her
+apron, "there's them as 'as cause to remember; there's them as won't
+forget to their last hour."
+
+"Meaning?" he asked.
+
+"Mr. Abel Death, sir, and Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"His last hour has gone by; he's past remembering."
+
+"A truer word you never spoke, sir, and it's wot we must all come to.
+But Mr. Abel Death ain't past remembering, and wot 'e's got on 'is
+conscience I shouldn't like to 'ave on mine."
+
+"That is one of the things that has yet to be settled," said Dick,
+ambiguously.
+
+"And settled I 'ope it will be, sir, and better sooner than later, for
+Mr. Reginald's sake. You see, sir, I speak of 'im as Mr. Reginald
+because that's the name he went by when he first come to me. 'A
+reference, is usual, sir,' I ses to 'im, 'if so be as you'll egscuse
+me for mentionin' of it.' 'Mrs. Weevil,' he ses, 'I can't give you a
+reference, but I can give you a month in advance.' Wot gentleman could
+say more? A month in advance 'e paid, from first to last, and never a
+word between us when I give 'im the book on Monday mornin'--puncchual,
+because 'e said 'e liked to be. When I 'eard 'e wos Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+son you might 'ave knocked me down with a feather. I ses to Mrs.
+Porter, while she wos spreadin' mustard on a sangwitch for a gent as
+eats six every afternoon of 'is life as the clock strikes three,
+'Well,' I ses to 'er, 'of all the strange things!' 'That's _my_
+opinion, Mrs. Weevil,' she ses."
+
+"Last Friday week," said Dick, taking up the threads of the subject.
+"I wish you to tell me at what hour of the night Mr. Reginald came
+home."
+
+"And you ain't the first as wishes me to tell you. There's been two
+detectives 'ere, and three newspaper men. 'Do you recollec',' they
+ses, 'wot time Friday night young Mr. Boyd come 'ome?' Your own words,
+sir, as if they wos turned out of a mould. 'No, I don't,' I ses to
+them. 'I went to bed at ten, when Mr. Reginald was out. I knocked at
+his door,' I ses, 'to see if 'e wanted anythink, but he didn't answer,
+and I jest peeped in to make sure 'e was out. Which he wos.' 'Oh,' ses
+they, 'did 'e keep 'is door unlocked?' 'Yes, 'e did,' I ses, 'and
+everything else as well. 'E wos always as open as open can be. I wish
+all wos like 'im, but that can't be egspected, because it takes all
+sorts to make a world.' They wanted to go up to 'is rooms, but I ses,
+'No, you don't. I know my duties as a landlady,' I ses, 'and I won't
+'ave no pokin' and pryin' in a gentleman's private apartments.' Would
+you believe it, sir, they orfered me money to let 'em go in, but they
+couldn't wheedle me. I ain't one of that sort."
+
+"Try and remember," urged Dick, earnestly, "whether, after you were in
+bed you didn't hear him come in on Friday night."
+
+"If I tried ever so 'ard, sir, I couldn't recollec' wot I don't
+remember. Why should a gentleman be spied upon when 'e pays 'is rent
+reg'lar? Mr. Reginald 'ad 'is own street door key, and wos free to
+come and go. 'E might 'ave come 'ome any time in the night without me
+knowin' it.
+
+"It is a very important matter," said Dick, greatly disheartened.
+"Perhaps your servant may recollect something."
+
+"I'll ring for 'er, sir, and you can arsk 'er yourself."
+
+In answer to the bell the servant came up, a heavy lumbering girl of
+twenty, in a chronic state of sulks, with whom Dick fared no better
+than he had with her mistress. She did not know what time she went to
+bed, nor what time she got up. Sometimes she awoke in the middle of
+the night, and sometimes she didn't; she generally didn't, and if she
+did she did not know what time it was. She did not recollect when
+Friday night was, she could not think so far back as the week before
+last. All she knew was that it wasn't her night out, and if the
+gentleman kept talking to her all day long how could she get her work
+done? So Dick reluctantly let her go, and took his departure himself,
+no wiser than when he came. 'Reginald's statement that he had returned
+to his lodgings before midnight was of no value in the absence of
+corroborative evidence. Thicker and blacker grew the clouds around
+him.
+
+From Park Street he proceeded to Draper's Mews, and there he met with
+another disappointment. Mrs. Death opened the door for him, and he saw
+a change in her. She was embarrassed, suspicious, sorrowful, angry.
+The old cordiality was gone.
+
+"Is Gracie at home?" he asked, looking around without seeing the
+sallow, wistful face.
+
+"No, she isn't," answered Mrs. Death, in a constrained voice, "and I
+don't know where she is. I haven't had misfortune enough, I suppose,
+that my own child should go against me."
+
+She dashed away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, and Dick
+gazed at her in pity and surprise.
+
+"Go against you, Mrs. Death!" he exclaimed. "No, no. It isn't in
+Gracie's nature."
+
+"It wasn't," she retorted, "till you stepped between us."
+
+"You are labouring under some grievous error," he said, sadly. "I have
+not seen Gracie. I came to ask how she was--as a friend, Mrs. Death,
+as a true friend."
+
+"Oh, yes," she cried, bitterly, "as a true friend! I'm learning the
+meaning of that word. It's time, it's time. Hush children!" For one or
+two, alarmed at their mother's loud voice, began to cry. They were all
+huddled together on the floor, and had looked up eagerly when Dick
+entered. "If you're not quiet I'll give you a beating all round." She
+turned to Dick. "Come into the next room; it isn't right that they
+should hear us. There, children, there, be good."
+
+With compressed lips, and eyes that seemed to be inwardly searching
+for an explanation, Dick accompanied her to the adjoining room. Night
+was coming on, but there was still light enough for them to see each
+other's face.
+
+"Be fair to me, Mrs. Death," he said, in a gentle tone. "Whatever you
+may think of me now, think of me for a moment as I was, and tell me
+first about Gracie."
+
+"There isn't much to tell," she returned; and she, also, seemed to be
+searching inwardly for something she could not understand. "She does
+nothing but talk of you. Dr. Vinsen walked home with us from the
+funeral yesterday, and Gracie wouldn't keep by our side; she walked
+behind. Two or three times he beckoned to her, but she was rebellious.
+'What have you been thinking of, child?' he asked when we got home.
+'I've been thinking of Dick,' she answered. 'Always of Dick, Gracie?'
+he said. 'Yes,' she answered, 'always of Dick.' 'Never of me?' he
+asked, and no one in the world could have spoken more kindly. 'Oh,
+yes,' she said, 'I think of you a lot, but in another way.' 'Now, tell
+me, child,' he said, 'what you think of me?' 'You'd best not ask,' she
+answered, and ran away. When we were alone I asked her what she meant
+by behaving so to our best friend. I will not tell you what her reply
+was; I was shocked and grieved that a child of mine could be so
+ungrateful. She looked out for you yesterday afternoon and evening,
+and this afternoon, too. 'Why doesn't Dick come?' she kept on saying.
+'Where's Dick?' It's three hours now that she went away, and I don't
+know what's become of her. That's all I've got to tell you about
+Gracie, if you didn't know it before. I want my child, I want my
+child! Do you hear, Mr. Remington. I want my child! I have lost my
+husband--am I to lose my Gracie, too?"
+
+"I sincerely hope not," said Dick; "I honestly believe not. She will
+come back presently. But there is something else in your mind against
+me, Mrs. Death."
+
+She stepped close to him, and looked fiercely into his eyes.
+
+"Who killed Mr. Samuel Boyd?" she said, in a hissing whisper. "Tell me
+that."
+
+"I wish to God I could!" he replied.
+
+"I wish to God _I_ could!" she retorted, still speaking in a low,
+fierce whisper, so that the children in the next room should not hear.
+"But though we don't know, we have our suspicions. I know what mine
+are. What are yours? Tell me, if you dare!"
+
+He did not answer her. In the presence of misfortune so undeserved, of
+suffering so keen, how could he breathe a word against her husband?
+
+"No, you do not dare," she continued. "You haven't the courage to say
+to my face that you believe my poor husband to be guilty of the crime;
+but you can say so behind my back, you can go about poisoning people's
+minds against him, and then come to me smiling in pretended
+friendship. Oh, Mr. Remington," she said, with a remorseful sob, and
+her changeful moods showed how her heart was torn, "I would not have
+believed it of you. You make us trust you, you make us love you, and
+then you turn against us. See here!" She pulled up the sleeve of her
+gown, and bared her emaciated arm to his pitying gaze. "As this is, so
+my whole body is, and my soul is on the rack. You have seen us in our
+poverty, you know the state to which we have been driven, you have
+witnessed how we live. Is it the work of an honest man to oppress and
+malign us?"
+
+"It would be the work of a coward," he answered, "if I had done a
+hundredth part of what you bring against me. I have done you no wrong,
+no injustice. I think I know who has instilled these thoughts into
+your mind, but I will not ask you for his name. Doubtless he has laid
+the seal of silence on your lips----"
+
+"He has not," she interrupted. "What he has said to me he would say to
+you if you stood before him."
+
+"I think not," said Dick.
+
+"He would. He has been kind and generous to us; if it had not been for
+him my children would have starved."
+
+"I would have done as much if I could have afforded it," said Dick,
+with set teeth. "Has it not crossed your mind, Mrs. Death, that you
+are being deceived?"
+
+"How, deceived?" she asked, and despite the warmth of her championship
+there was doubt in her face.
+
+"In being led to believe that those who are your friends are your
+enemies?"
+
+"I speak as I find."
+
+"No," said Dick, firmly, "you speak from ideas which have been put
+into your head, heaven knows for what purpose. What that man's motive
+may be----"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," she interrupted again. "Motive, motive, motive. I've
+heard enough of motive. What is yours, Mr. Remington? Who is more
+deeply interested in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who is more
+directly connected with it, who has more to gain from it, than you and
+your friend. You speak of motive. What motive brings you here?"
+
+"I have told you."
+
+"You have not told me," she said, violently. "You come to seek
+information about my poor husband."
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "partly."
+
+"And," she said, very slowly, "to cast suspicion upon him, if the poor
+dear is alive, and so avert it from yourself and Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+Dick was too startled to reply. No need to ask the source of this
+insidious suggestion.
+
+"If it happened that you found him here," she continued, "would you
+give information to the police? Would you say, 'Go into that house and
+arrest the murderer of Mr. Samuel Boyd?' Oh, I know, I know! But we do
+not fear the truth, and we have a friend who will see that justice is
+done. That is all we want, and I pray that I may live to see the day."
+
+She had worked herself into a white heat of passion, and Dick saw that
+no good would result from prolonging his visit. "May there come a
+happier day for all of us," he said, and passed from her presence.
+
+Night was coming on as he took his way to Catchpole Square, but he did
+not heed the falling shadows nor the soft drizzling rain that now
+began to fall. "This is Dr. Vinsen's work," he thought, "and he does
+not work without a purpose. What motive can he have in fixing
+suspicion upon me and Reginald, what motive in taking so deep an
+interest in Mrs. Death? The mystery seems impenetrable, but I will
+pierce it till light comes. I will, I will, I will!" He did not hear
+pattering feet behind him, and was not conscious that anyone was by
+his side till his hand was clutched.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Gracie!" he cried. "I am glad you are here. Your mother is terribly
+anxious about you. Let me take you to her."
+
+"No," she said, panting, "not yet, Dick. I've been looking for you
+everywhere. I've got something to tell you first. Come, come, come!"
+
+She dragged him in the direction he had been taking, towards Catchpole
+Square.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+                      GRACIE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+
+He did not resist. The enterprise to which he was pledged had so
+fastened itself upon his imagination that the least thing appertaining
+to it claimed first place. Except that her breath was short there
+were no symptoms of excitement in Gracie, but Dick was sufficiently
+conversant with her peculiar manner to know that she had something of
+importance to communicate.
+
+"Tell me as we go along," he said.
+
+"No," she answered, "you must see for yourself."
+
+"Don't walk so fast, then. We must not attract attention."
+
+There were only two or three loungers in Catchpole Square. Now that
+Samuel Boyd was buried the general interest in the house had waned,
+and public attention was chiefly devoted to the proceedings in the
+Coroner's Court, in consequence of which there had been intervals
+during this day when the Square was bare of sight-seers. The two or
+three idle persons who were staring aimlessly at the walls as Dick and
+Gracie came near regarded the appearance of the new-comers as an
+agreeable diversion, and gazed at them instead.
+
+"Now, Gracie, what is it?" asked Dick.
+
+She cast a sharp glance at a little iron gate at the side of the next
+house to Samuel Boyd's, and replied, "Not while they're here, Dick.
+Stare them out."
+
+Nothing loth, Dick stared so sternly at the idlers that they became
+nervous, shifted their gaze, to see him still staring at them when
+they looked at him again, made awkward movements, and finally strolled
+away, and left the Square to him and Gracie.
+
+"Let's talk inside the house," she said, with a nod of approval.
+
+"No, Gracie, here. I don't care about taking you in."
+
+"I've been in," she said calmly.
+
+"You've been in!" he exclaimed, hastening to the door. "Is anybody
+inside now? Ah!" with a sudden thought. "Your father!"
+
+"I didn't see a living soul when I was in the place," she said,
+mournfully.
+
+"Who opened the door for you?"
+
+"Nobody. I won't talk in the Square, Dick; people'll be coming and
+interrupting us. I'll show you all about it when we're inside. You'll
+be glad to know."
+
+Recognising the imprudence of running the chance of being overheard,
+he unlocked the door, and they stood in the dark passage.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Gracie. What has happened within these walls is
+eerie enough to send the shivers through one."
+
+"I ain't frightened a bit, Dick."
+
+"Very well, then. Remain here while I go and get a light. The candles
+and matches are upstairs."
+
+"I'll come with you. You do like me a little, don't you, Dick?"
+
+"I like you a good deal. You're the queerest and bravest little girl
+I've ever met."
+
+She nestled close to him. They reached the office, and he fumbled
+about for the matches.
+
+"Where are we, Dick?"
+
+He hesitated a moment, and answered gently, "In the office where your
+father used to work."
+
+"Father?" she sighed. "Dick, what do you see when you are in the
+dark?"
+
+"Darkness."
+
+"I see more than that."
+
+"Do you see anything now?" he asked, still groping for the matches.
+
+"I see father. There he stands. He looks so white and thin, and he's
+holding out his arms to me to save him."
+
+"From what? Ah, here they are at last." He struck a match, and lighted
+a candle.
+
+"I don't know from what, but I'm going to. Now he's gone. No, no! He's
+there, he's there! Father, father!"
+
+She darted forward to the hooded chair in which the wax figure of the
+Chinaman was seated.
+
+"Hold hard, Gracie," said Dick, catching her by the arm. "That's not a
+man; it's a wax figure."
+
+"Let me go, let me go!" It was not a scream, but a fierce whisper that
+issued from her lips. She twisted herself out of Dick's grasp, and ran
+to the chair. She stood awhile before she spoke again, and Dick
+watched her curiously. "Is he dead?"
+
+"Wax images generally are," said Dick, endeavouring to speak lightly.
+
+She gazed earnestly at the dead white face.
+
+"Has he been here long?"
+
+"A pretty long time, I should say."
+
+"Was he here when Mr. Boyd was murdered?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If he could only speak, Dick!"
+
+"Ah, if he only could!"
+
+She crept to the bedroom door. "Is this the room?"
+
+"Yes. I wouldn't go in, Gracie."
+
+"Why not? He's dead and buried; and if his ghost is there it can't do
+me any harm."
+
+Her black eyes travelled over the walls and ceiling and floor, as
+though in search of a clue to her father's fate. She evinced a
+disposition to linger there, but Dick pulled her back into the office.
+
+"Now, Gracie, how did you get into the house?"
+
+"I'll show you. Come downstairs."
+
+Taking the candle with them they descended to the lower part of the
+premises. There were three small rooms in the basement, in addition to
+the kitchen, all in a state of ruin. He was filled with wonder when
+Gracie informed him that there was a cellar underneath the kitchen,
+for neither he nor the officials who had searched the place knew
+anything of it.
+
+"Pull up the trap door, Dick. There it is, under that old chair."
+
+The wonder still upon him he removed the chair, and, kneeling, lifted
+the trap door, beneath which was a short fixed ladder.
+
+"I'll go first," said Gracie, "then you can give me the candle, and
+come after me." It was done as she directed, and he found himself in a
+dungeon-like room, about ten feet square, without window or door in
+it.
+
+"I got in through that wall, Dick."
+
+It was the wall that divided the two houses. Dick looked and saw no
+means of entrance.
+
+"Can't you see how, Dick?"
+
+"No. You are a spirit."
+
+"Can a spirit do things that we can't?"
+
+"It is what people believe," replied Dick, doubtfully.
+
+"And see things that we can't?"
+
+"So they say."
+
+"If I was a spirit I'd soon find out where poor father is. I ain't a
+spirit, Dick. Look here."
+
+Stepping to a part of the wall which bore traces of crumbling away,
+Gracie pushed a brick into the cellar of the adjoining house; she
+pushed another, and that fell; another, and that fell. A rat scampered
+past, and gave Dick a shock. Gracie laughed. Then she wedged her small
+body through, and stood apart from him, he being in one house, and she
+in another.
+
+"Wait a bit, Gracie," he cried excitedly. "Hold the candle."
+
+There were other loose bricks which yielded to his pressure, and in a
+few moments he had made a hole large enough for a man to creep
+through. Dick and Gracie were now side by side.
+
+"Easy, ain't it, Dick? We'd best put up the bricks, in case of
+accidents."
+
+"You ought to have been a detective," said Dick.
+
+"I shouldn't have made a bad one, I don't think," she answered, with
+unemotional complacency, proceeding to replace the bricks, which she
+did very carefully, even fixing the loose mortar about them. The work
+was done so neatly that nothing but the closest scrutiny would have
+led to the discovery of the unlawful communication between the houses.
+
+"Dick," said Gracie, "Mr. Samuel Boyd was as artful as they make 'em.
+Do you think he went in and out through this hole?"
+
+"He'd have been in a rare mess if he did," replied Dick, brushing the
+dust from his clothes. "The puzzle is what he wanted in an empty
+house. Supposing he did not wish to go back, how did he get out of
+it?"
+
+"This way."
+
+He followed her out of the cellar up a short, narrow flight of rickety
+stairs. At the end of the passage was a door, the lock of which was
+broken. This door opened upon half a dozen stone steps, and at one
+time had probably been used as a kitchen entrance for tradesmen. A
+little rusty gate at the top opened into the Square. Only two of the
+houses had an entrance of a similar description, and Dick inwardly
+railed at his own lack of foresight in overlooking this means of
+getting into Samuel Boyd's residence. Upon further reflection,
+however, he thought it hardly likely that he would have succeeded in
+carrying his investigations to the point which Gracie's shrewdness and
+pertinacity had enabled her to reach.
+
+"It's a good job for me the place is empty," said Gracie. "I had to
+get into Mr. Boyd's house somehow, you know, even if I had to climb
+the wall at the back, the way the murderer and the newspaper man did.
+As I was looking at the houses I saw these steps, and when nobody was
+in the Square I crept down. It was all a job to push the door open,
+but I did, and there I was, without anybody seeing me. Then I tried to
+get into the backyard, but couldn't. I knew there was only a wall
+between me and the next house, and I thought of the way prisoners make
+their escape from prison. They made holes in walls--why couldn't I? I
+found a bit of old iron in the cellar here, and I poked at the bricks
+with it till I came across one that was looser than the others. It
+didn't take me long to push it through, and when I got that out the
+rest was easy. That's the way of it, Dick."
+
+"You were in the dark all the time."
+
+"That didn't matter. I've got cat's eyes."
+
+"You're a clever girl."
+
+"Thank you, Dick. When you say anything like that to me I feel warm
+all over."
+
+"What made you so anxious to get into Mr. Boyd's house? Surely you did
+not expect to find your father there?"
+
+"I don't know what I didn't expect. I thought I might find a bit of
+paper with his writing on it that'd tell me where to look for him. I
+told you about my dream the night before last, and how I promised
+father I'd catch the murderer. I dreamt of him again last night.
+'Don't forget your promise,' he said. 'Look for me in Catchpole
+Square.' 'You ain't dead, are you, father?' I asked. 'No,' he said,
+'look for me in Catchpole Square, and catch the murderer.' It's a
+large order, ain't it, Dick?"
+
+There was nothing humorous in the question; her voice was perfectly
+passionless, but Dick had a clear sense of the absorbing earnestness
+and the pitiful pathos which lay beneath, unexpressed though they were
+in tone or gesture.
+
+"Poor little Gracie!" he said. "The body of a mouse and the heart of a
+lion."
+
+"I _am_ small, ain't I? But I shall grow. Did I do right, Dick, in
+coming to tell you about the hole? Don't say you're mad with me."
+
+"I won't. You did quite right, and I only wish you were a man. You and
+I together would get at the bottom of a mystery that is making many
+innocent people unhappy."
+
+"We'll do it as it is, Dick. It's made mother unhappy--oh, so unhappy!
+The worst of it is"--she paused, and with a grave look added, "Dr.
+Vinsen. What does he mean by speaking against you?"
+
+"Passes my comprehension, Gracie. There's no love lost between us,
+that's clear. It is a case of mutual antipathy. But I don't want to do
+him an injustice. He has been very kind to you."
+
+"Yes," she said. "I wonder why."
+
+"Ah, I wonder."
+
+"I tried to get in at the inquest to-day, but couldn't get near the
+door. Was he there?"
+
+"I did not see him. His friend was."
+
+"His friend?" she queried.
+
+"Dr. Pye, and he made it hot for us."
+
+"What did he say, Dick, what did he say?"
+
+"Too long to tell you now; you'll hear all about it by and by."
+
+"Give me a ha'penny to buy a paper, Dick, will you?"
+
+"Here's a penny. So, Dr. Vinsen speaks against me?"
+
+"Yes, and smiles and pats me when I stick up for you. He ain't angry,
+you know; he speaks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 'You'll
+know better, my child,' he says, 'before you are much older, and then
+you'll stick up for me.' He'll have to wait a long time for that.
+Mother's wild with me because I don't like him, but I can't, I can't!
+I feel sometimes as if I could stick a knife in him. I'm sure he'd do
+you a mischief if he could, so just you take care of him, Dick."
+
+"I will; and I dare say I shall be a match for him in the end. We've
+talked enough about him, Gracie, my girl. Now we'll get back to the
+house, and I'll take you to your mother, who is fretting her heart out
+about you."
+
+"I'd sooner go by myself, Dick, and I'll tell her you found me and
+sent me home."
+
+"That will do as well. I know you will not break a promise you give
+me."
+
+"Never, Dick, never! I'd die first!"
+
+They returned to the house the way they came, and she lifted her face
+to his.
+
+"Kiss me, Dick," she said.
+
+He kissed gladness into her, and they parted at Samuel Boyd's street
+door.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XL.
+
+                   THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.
+
+
+At ten o'clock on this night, Dr. Pye was employed looking over a
+number of manuscripts, setting some aside and burning others, keeping
+a jealous eye upon the fire as he watched them moulder to ashes. Upon
+the table were a bottle of wine and two glass goblets of ancient
+manufacture and design. There were quaint stems to these goblets, one
+representing a serpent, the other a satyr, whose upraised face seemed
+to be trying to reach the rim. Priceless treasures of the antique.
+That the wine was precious, and that Dr. Pye so considered it, was
+evidenced by the disposition of the bottle, which lay in a basket
+lined with thick blue felt; the glasses were Venetian. These and the
+wine were in harmony with the taste displayed in the gathering
+together the costly and unique collection of articles which adorned
+the room. One might have expected to see such an apartment in an old
+palace, for the beautifying of which centuries of treasure had been
+collected through many generations, but scarcely in a street in
+Islington where wealth was not abundant, and where the residents, for
+the most part, were toilers of the humblest kind. Secluded as was the
+room--its door closed, its one window so closely shuttered that not a
+chink of light could be discerned from without--the hum of crowded
+life from the outer street penetrated it and droned like an exhausted
+bee. Dr. Pye listened, smiled contemptuously, and gazed around upon
+the precious bronzes and ivories, the rare _bric-à-brac_, the
+exquisite enamels, the books with jewelled bindings, which were so
+arranged that their beauties were seen at a glance. Not one of these
+examples was of the new school of art; all belonged to times when form
+and colour were either better understood and valued than now, or
+received from the artist that whole-souled and loving labour which
+in this age of hurry-scurry no artist dreams of bestowing upon his
+work--and thus misses perfection and immortality. In the world of art
+to-day it is the merchant-author who displays his wares and touts for
+patronage.
+
+His task completed, Dr. Pye put into a drawer the papers he had set
+aside, and with extreme care poured out a glass of wine and held it up
+to the light. His anticipated enjoyment of the precious draught was
+heightened by the deep ruby colour which shone through the delicate
+glass, and he gazed long at it, and at its almost living reflection in
+a jewel on his white hand. He drank it slowly, and drank a second and
+a third in the same leisurely manner. Then he rose and went to the
+window, in the closed shutter of which was a small revolving panel. On
+a bracket within reach of his right hand was the box containing the
+flashlight, of which he had spoken in his evidence at the Coroner's
+Court, and within reach of his left was a tap which controlled the
+gas. This tap he turned, and the room was in darkness. Then he turned
+the revolving panel, and through the exposed circle of glass looked
+out upon the night. All was dark in Catchpole Square. Its silence, its
+gloom, the utter absence of movement, were in keeping with the tragedy
+which had made its name a household word.
+
+Lifting the box from the bracket he opened it, and, pressing a spring
+which ignited the magnesium wire, threw a flashlight on the house of
+Samuel Boyd. For one brief moment the walls and windows were
+illuminated, as though lightning had struck them. Then all was
+darkness again.
+
+With thoughtful brows Dr. Pye closed the revolving panel and turned up
+the gas. Placing the box on the table, he took from it a film which he
+laid flat on a square of sensitised paper, and poured a liquid over
+it. Holding it up to the light a photograph of the walls and windows
+of the house he had illuminated appeared. No living face or form was
+visible in the picture, nothing but lifeless stone and wood and glass.
+
+As he was replacing the box on the bracket, the sound of footsteps on
+the stairs caused him to look towards the door, which presently opened
+and admitted Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"According to my promise, my friend," said the visitor; "always
+faithful, always a man of my word." His eyes fell upon the bottle of
+wine, and without invitation he filled a glass, and was about to drink
+when he paused, as if a sudden suspicion had crossed his mind. Dr. Pye
+smiled, and refilling his own glass, drank, his example being followed
+by Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"A rare wine," he said, smacking his lips, "but too
+seductive----altogether too seductive. Am I mistaken in supposing that
+you have been testing the flashlight?"
+
+"You are not mistaken," said Dr. Pye.
+
+"Without result, of course?"
+
+"Without result."
+
+Dr. Vinsen stepped to the shuttered window, and Dr. Pye, lowering the
+gas almost to the vanishing point, turned the revolving panel, and
+peered through the exposed glass at the windows of the house opposite.
+
+"Look!" he whispered, clutching his visitor's arm. "What do you see?"
+
+"Nothing but a mass of shadows," replied Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"Look again--closer, closer!"
+
+"I see nothing," said Dr. Vinsen, testily. "What do you see?"
+
+Dr. Pye did not answer, but bringing forward the small box, opened it,
+and sent a flashlight straight into the opposite window.
+
+"God in heaven!" he cried, falling back affrighted.
+
+In that brief moment of light he had seen at the window the face and
+form of Samuel Boyd!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLI.
+
+              HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.
+
+
+Dr. Vinsen vainly seeking in the darkness for the cause of Dr. Pye's
+alarm, could not utter a word. In his listening attitude, with the
+white fear depicted on his countenance, he presented a terror-struck
+appearance, and seemed to be waiting for advancing footsteps, or for
+the sound of voices in the street without, demanding admittance. But
+the silence was not broken.
+
+"Can't you speak?" he then said in a whisper to his companion. "What
+is it? Is there anybody in the Square? Turn up the light."
+
+His hand was groping for the tap that controlled the gas when Dr. Pye
+seized his arm and held him back. Dr. Vinsen winced and impatiently
+endeavoured to free himself, but the fingers that had fastened
+themselves upon his muscles were more like rods of steel than flesh
+and bone.
+
+"Let go!" he muttered. "You are crushing my arm."
+
+"Do not stir," replied Dr. Pye, releasing him. Then he masked the
+shutter, and brought light into the room.
+
+It was characteristic of this man that, short as had been the interval
+between his startled exclamation and the lighting up of the apartment,
+he had regained his self-control, and that on his features no trace of
+his recent agitation was visible. There are moments of unexpected
+surprise when the fixed habits of a carefully trained life slip their
+hold, and the mind becomes as unquestioningly receptive as that of a
+child. Such a moment had come to Dr. Pye when he beheld the vision of
+the man the mystery of whose death was on every tongue. It held him
+only for the moment; before the passing of another his dominant will
+had reasserted itself, and his face resumed his impenetrable calm.
+
+"Now, what is it?" again demanded Dr. Vinsen. His eyes travelled round
+the room, and colour came into his cheeks when he saw they were alone.
+
+"You did not see it?" replied Dr. Pye.
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The figure of Samuel Boyd standing at his window?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen stared incredulously at his host, and then a long deep
+breath of relief escaped him. "Only that!" he exclaimed. "I thought it
+was something worse."
+
+Dr. Pye repeated his question. "You did not see it?"
+
+"I saw nothing. The dead do not rise from their graves. Dead once,
+dead for ever. But you can convince me by producing ocular proof. Your
+ingenious device takes an instantaneous picture of any object upon
+which it flashes its light. Produce me the picture of the dead and
+buried Samuel Boyd."
+
+"I cannot. The last film has been used, and I omitted to put in
+others."
+
+"Very unfortunate," said Dr. Vinsen, dryly. "Suppose you supply the
+omission, and try again."
+
+Dr. Pye acted upon the suggestion. He placed an automatic arrangement
+of films in the little machine, again turned down the gas, again
+opened the circular lid in the shutter, again threw the flash light
+upon the house of Samuel Boyd. The blank walls and windows confronted
+them, and no sign of life, physical or spiritual, was visible; and
+when the film was removed and developed it showed no face of man or
+spirit.
+
+"I did not expect a result," said Dr. Pye; "there was no form at the
+window."
+
+"You saw none on the first occasion."
+
+"As clearly as I behold you now I saw the shadow, spirit, or
+reflection of Samuel Boyd. I was not under the spell of a delusion; my
+senses did not deceive me. My pulse beats steadily; there is no fever
+in my blood. I saw it."
+
+"And I refuse to believe it. My friend, you do nothing without design,
+and if I doubt your protestation I but follow the excellent example
+you set me. I have no faith in _diablerie_, nor am I a child to be
+influenced by a goblin tale. Who thinks me so, mistakes my
+character--mis-takes my cha-rac-ter; and that might lead to more
+serious mistakes."
+
+There was no indication that Dr. Pye paid heed to these words, or that
+they produced any impression upon him; he seemed to be absorbed in a
+train of thought which he was endeavouring to follow to a logical end.
+
+"I recall a singular case," he said, musingly, "of a man who was
+brutally murdered in his own apartments while he was engaged in making
+experiments in photography. It occurred in a foreign country, and the
+police, investigating the case, had their suspicions directed to a
+person who had had dealings with the murdered man, and who had been
+seen entering his apartments within an hour or two of the murder. They
+followed up the clue, and arrested the suspected man, who
+energetically proclaimed his innocence. The evidence at the trial was
+entirely circumstantial, but it was considered conclusive, and the man
+went to the scaffold, protesting his innocence with his dying breath.
+Some years afterwards business of a private nature brought me into
+contact with a man who had but a short time to live, and on his
+deathbed he confessed to me that he was the murderer. In proof of this
+he had, by a strange fatuity, carried about with him during all these
+years a certain piece of evidence which, had it been presented to a
+jury, would have been fatal to him. The circumstances were these: On
+the day of the murder he had entered the apartment of his victim at
+the moment that a prepared plate had been placed in the camera. A
+quarrel took place between them, which culminated in the murderer
+suddenly plunging a knife into the heart of the student photographer.
+Death was instantaneous, and as he fell to the ground his eyes were
+fixed upon the face of his murderer. There he lay upon the ground,
+dead, his eyes wide open. The murderer was himself a photographer, and
+a whimsical fancy seized him to take a picture of those staring eyes,
+in which a wild horror dwelt. He acted upon it. Focussing the dead
+face he exposed the plate, and, the picture taken, stole away from the
+house with the negative in his possession. He subsequently developed
+the picture and enlarged it, and there, under the lens of a powerful
+microscope, was the portrait of the murderer upon the pupils of the
+dead man's eyes. It had been his last living vision, which had fixed
+itself upon the retina. I have the picture by me now, and since that
+day have been much interested in the photographic art, in which I have
+made some curious experiments. Later researches have proved that we
+can photograph what is invisible to the eye, what is even concealed in
+a box. The photographs of shadows and the spirits of the dead can be
+taken. The image of Samuel Boyd being in my mind, found its reflection
+in a window in a moment of light. Why should we not be able to
+photograph a vision created by the imagination?"
+
+"Or," said Dr. Vinsen, with a touch of sarcasm, "the thoughts of men."
+
+"Or," said Dr. Pye, with an assenting nod, "the thoughts of men. It
+will be done; and when it is accomplished it will open the road to
+greater discoveries."
+
+"Ah," said Dr. Vinsen, shrugging his shoulders, "great
+discoveries--_your_ great discoveries, ending in visions."
+
+"To you, visions; to me, reality. The age of miracles is not yet past.
+It is my intention to get out of this country, and return to Italy,
+where there is light, where the sun shines. This atmosphere, these
+leaden skies, these black nights, are fatal. I must release myself. My
+purpose is fixed."
+
+"And mine."
+
+Both spoke in a tone of decision, and both had a motive-spring which
+had yet to be revealed.
+
+"Let us come back to earth," said Dr. Vinsen, "and above all,
+let us be practical. There are accounts between us which must be
+settled--pray do not forget that."
+
+"I will not."
+
+"You were at the inquest to-day," said Dr. Vinsen, rather uneasily,
+for there was a menace in Dr. Pye's tone. "The papers report you
+fully. Your warning to the jury not to be led away by a resemblance
+that might be accidental was a masterstroke. It produced a good
+effect, but will it assist Mr. Reginald Boyd? We shall see--we shall
+see. Justice is slow. Were you to formulate a code you would make it
+swifter, surer--eh, my friend?"
+
+"I would make it swift as sudden death to all who stood in my path,"
+said Dr. Pye, and now there was a cold glitter in his eyes as he
+looked at his visitor.
+
+"No doubt, no doubt, and no feeling of mercy would restrain you; but
+we cannot break through the meshes. Sentinels stand at every corner,
+and slow as justice is in these mean streets, of which you have so
+poor an opinion, its eyes are never closed. It is fortunate for some
+that it can occasionally be hoodwinked by a master mind, to which"
+(here he bent his head, half in mockery, half in sincerity) "I pay
+tribute. That poor woman, Mrs. Abel Death, has had no news of her
+husband--singular, is it not? Her strange little child Gracie, I
+regret to say, views me with disfavour. It is some compensation that
+her mother regards us as her benefactors; and in some respects we
+deserve to be so regarded. The expenditure of money in that quarter
+has not been entirely thrown away--not en-tire-ly thrown a-way. It has
+assisted me to direct public opinion, and to keep watch upon my friend
+Remington, whom I would like to plunge to the bottom of the Red Sea,
+to rot with the bones of the Egyptians."
+
+That a man so mild in voice and so bland in manner should break into
+sudden malignity was surprising.
+
+"He is better where he is," said Dr. Pye; "his living presence is
+necessary. People shoot wild when there is no target to aim at, and a
+chance shot might hit the mark."
+
+"Always profound," said Dr. Vinsen, admiringly, "always, always
+profound. A target--yes, a target. It is a thousand pities, my dear
+friend, that you are not in all things more practical and less
+imaginative. Take, for instance, these gewgaws by which you are
+surrounded, these flasks and vases, these jewelled trifles, this
+curiously wrought work from some Eastern country--of what avail are
+they for the true pleasures of life?" Dr. Pye was silent. "You may
+say, perhaps, they feed the artistic sense. As I believe only in what
+I see, so do I believe only in what I feel. Better to feed the
+material senses--far more rational. If what you have presented to my
+view in your character is genuine, and not the outcome of a deliberate
+intention to deceive--in-ten-tion to de-ceive--it is composed of
+singularly contradictory qualities. In a certain sense, unique, for
+who would expect to find Alnaschar dreams floating among the fleshpots
+of Egypt? Your taste in wine is not to be excelled--I approve of it;
+it is a passion you carry to an excess which I consider as ridiculous
+as it is unwise--still, in the main, I approve of it. Good wine
+nourishes the tissues, helps to prolong life. Hippocrates and many
+long-headed ancients have something to say on this head. But these
+lifeless memorials of a dead past, in which there is no vitality,
+which are eternally the same, dumb and expressionless----My dear
+friend, I fear you are not listening."
+
+"My thoughts are elsewhere," said Dr. Pye, rising and approaching the
+window. Dr. Vinsen followed him, with suspicion and discontent on his
+face. For the fourth time on this night the room was plunged in
+darkness; for the fourth time the circular lid of the shutter was
+drawn aside.
+
+"There, there!" whispered Dr. Pye. "What do you see?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen peered into the night. "I see nothing."
+
+"Stand back."
+
+Swift as thought he threw the flash-light upon the windows of Samuel
+Boyd's house. Then he masked the shutter and turned on the gas.
+Accompanied by Dr. Vinsen, who jealously watched his every movement,
+he stepped to the table, withdrew the film from the little machine,
+and developed it. And there before them came gradually into view the
+pictured presentment of the face and form of Samuel Boyd, standing at
+the window of his house in Catchpole Square.
+
+Dr. Vinsen's face was pallid, his eyes dilated, his teeth chattered.
+Dr. Pye's face was thoughtful, introspective.
+
+"Do you believe now?" he asked in an undertone.
+
+Dr. Vinsen passed his hand confusedly across his brows.
+
+"We had certain plans," continued Dr. Pye; "are they to be carried out
+to-night?"
+
+"Not to-night; not to-night," replied Dr. Vinsen, turning towards the
+door.
+
+The next moment Dr. Pye was alone.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLII.
+
+                          A FAMILY COUNCIL.
+
+
+On the following morning Aunt and Uncle Rob and Florence and Reginald
+sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Dick, who had not been home
+all night. Although they had had no word from him since he left them
+on the previous evening, they knew that he would join them at the
+earliest possible moment. It had been an anxious night with them, and
+they had had but little sleep. There were dark rims round Aunt Rob's
+eyes, and signs of unrest were on Uncle Rob's countenance. Singularly
+enough, the invalid of the party, Reginald, had gathered strength; his
+voice was firmer, his step more confident, and there was an expression
+on his face which denoted that he had prepared himself to meet the
+worst that fortune had in store for him.
+
+"Florence and I have been considering the straight and honest course
+to pursue," he said, "and we have decided. She wished me at first to
+be guided by your advice; but she is beginning to find out that she
+has married a wilful man."
+
+She gave him a tender smile, and put her hand in his.
+
+"It is not that I don't value your advice; but what would be the use
+of asking for it if I hadn't made up my mind to take it?"
+
+"No use, my dear," said Aunt Rob. "What have you decided to do?"
+
+"To offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of my father."
+
+Aunt Rob nodded her approval, and would have expressed it had she not
+observed the grave look on her husband's face. So she held her tongue,
+and waited for him to speak.
+
+"It is not a plan we generally approve of," he remarked, after a
+pause, "and it seldom meets with success."
+
+"Has it ever?" asked Reginald.
+
+"Yes. A fifty to one chance."
+
+"If it were a thousand to one chance it would be wrong to throw it
+away. Much of the evidence that has been given can be so construed as
+to cast suspicion upon me. How shall I protect myself except by
+showing the world that I court the most searching inquiry? Lady
+Wharton's story is true, and some villain, personating my father,
+succeeded in imposing upon and robbing her. The offer of a substantial
+reward will not only quicken the efforts of the police, but will set a
+hundred people on the hunt. God forbid that I should do anyone an
+injustice. I cannot conceive that Abel Death is the murderer, and yet
+in the eyes of the public it lies between him and me. It would be the
+height of folly to ignore that fact. Here in this paper"--he took up a
+newspaper, glanced at it, and flung it indignantly aside--"is a veiled
+allusion to Abel Death and me as accomplices. No names are mentioned,
+but the inference can hardly be missed. On my way home from the
+funeral on Tuesday, and yesterday from the Coroner's Court, I saw some
+of the newspaper bills with their cruel headlines accusing _me!_ I saw
+the silent accusation in the eyes of the people as I passed. Is it in
+nature that I should sit idly down under such imputations? They are
+enough to drive a man mad, and I shall go mad if I do not do something
+quickly to repel them. The wretch who went down to Bournemouth must
+have purchased a railway ticket; the clerk who sold it him may have
+seen his face; passengers travelling the same way must have seen him:
+he must have been seen by other persons in Bournemouth; he may have
+taken a carriage there to drive to the Gables; if he went on foot he
+may have asked his way to the house; when he left Lady Wharton he
+could scarcely have walked about the town till the trains started in
+the morning; he must have slept somewhere; a waiter or a chambermaid
+may have noticed him; there may have been something in his speech or
+manner to attract attention, however slight. There are a thousand
+things from which a clue may be obtained and which may be brought to
+the recollection by the hope of earning money. The offer of a reward
+will stir people's memories, will cause them to come forward with
+scraps of information which otherwise would be thought of no
+importance. Uncle Rob, Aunt Rob--I dare not, and will not, call you
+father and mother till I am cleared of these vile suspicions--do you
+not see that I _must_ do this for dear Florence's sake, that it is my
+duty to make her less ashamed of the name I gave her?"
+
+The sobs in his throat prevented him from continuing. Trembling in
+every limb, shaking with passion and excitement, he turned appealingly
+to his wife.
+
+She clasped him in her loving arms, crying, "I am not ashamed of it; I
+am proud of it, and of you, my dear, dear husband! If there is a stain
+upon our name you shall wipe it away; you shall make it bright and
+clean and pure, and men and women shall say, 'The son has atoned for
+his father's faults, and stands before the world an honourable
+gentleman who has met misfortune bravely, and silenced the slanderers
+who dared to breathe a word against him.' Oh, my dear, my dear! I
+never loved you as I love you now, I never honoured you as I honour
+you now. Mother, father, stand by us--comfort him, strengthen him!"
+
+She glowed with heavenly pity, with indignant pride, with devoted
+love. The type of a true, brave, honest English girl, she stood
+embracing the man whose heart, whose life, were linked with hers,
+ready to defend him, to suffer for him, to fling back the words of
+scorn flung at him--if need were, to die for him. It is beneath the
+stress of a heavy stroke of misfortune that men and women such as she
+show their noblest qualities.
+
+A great peace stole into Reginald's heart; the sobs in his throat died
+away.
+
+"I will try to prove myself worthy of you," he said huskily. "I pray
+to God that I may live to prove it."
+
+Aunt Rob's heart throbbed with exultation.
+
+"Our daughter, father, that I nursed at my breast," she murmured to
+her husband. "God love and preserve her!"
+
+"Amen!" he answered.
+
+So in that humble home those sweet flowers bloomed in the midst of the
+darkness, and through the lowering clouds one bright star shone--the
+star of love and hope and mutual faith.
+
+When the excitement had subsided, and they were all seated again,
+Uncle Rob said,
+
+"Let it be as you have decided, Reginald, my lad. As an inspector of
+police I might argue with you; as a man and a father I agree with you.
+And in the nick of time, here comes Dick."
+
+To Dick, with his cheerful face and voice, that bore no traces of his
+night's anxious vigil, all was explained. He shook hands with
+Reginald, and said,
+
+"A good move. I'll go a step farther. Let there be two bills put out
+and posted all over England, one offering a reward for the discovery
+of the murderer, the other for giving such information of Abel Death
+as will lead to his being found. You can tell us, perhaps, Uncle
+Rob--would that be against the law?"
+
+"I don't think the law can touch it," he replied. "It might not be
+approved of in some quarters, but the law don't apply, so far as I
+know anything of it."
+
+"If the law," said Aunt Rob, with fine disdain, "can prevent a son
+from offering a reward for the discovery of his father's murderer the
+less we have of it the better. Why, instead of one man looking for the
+monster, there 'll be a hundred! Dick, you must see to the printing of
+the bills, and they should be got out at once."
+
+"I will attend to everything; but before we go into details I've
+something to tell you. I should have been here earlier if I hadn't met
+little Gracie Death. What a brick that mite is! Just listen to what
+she discovered yesterday, Reginald--that there's a way of getting into
+your father's house without getting through the front or the back
+door. You may well look startled; it nearly took _my_ breath away. Do
+you remember that pitiful hoarse voice of hers, uncle, on the night of
+the fog, when she said, 'You _will_ find father, won't you, sir?'"
+Uncle Rob nodded. "Well, as nobody has been able to find him, she has
+made up her mind to find him herself, heaven knows how, but somehow.
+She thinks of nothing else, she dreams of nothing else, and she's got
+it into that clever little head of hers that he's to be found in
+Catchpole Square, the very place, one would imagine, that he'd be
+likely to avoid. If faith can move mountains, as they say it can, the
+thing is as good as done. There is such magnetism in her little body
+that when she speaks she almost makes you believe what she believes.
+Now, I'm not going to tell you how she got into the house while Uncle
+Rob is here. As inspector of police he would consider it his duty to
+make use of the information."
+
+"I certainly should," said Uncle Rob. "I'd best make myself scarce."
+
+"Don't go yet, uncle. I want you to hear something you ought to know.
+Gracie, talking to me this morning, tells me of a man she saw Dr.
+Vinsen speaking to last night. She hates that doctor--so do I; and
+it's because she hates him that she creeps behind them without their
+seeing her, and hears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise.' That's all she does hear,
+because the doctor, turning his head over his shoulder, sends her
+scuttling away; but she's certain he doesn't suspect that he'd been
+followed and overheard. There isn't much in that, you'll say; but
+listen to what follows. Gracie had just finished telling me this when
+a man passes us. 'There,' she says, 'that's the man.' I catch sight of
+his face, and who do you think it was?"
+
+"Out with it, Dick," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"It was the juryman that's been putting all those questions at the
+inquest about our private affairs, and that's been doing his best to
+throw suspicion upon Reginald and me and all of us. Queer start, isn't
+it?"
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+                AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.
+
+
+"There's villainy at the bottom of it," cried Aunt Rob. "Dick, you're
+our guardian angel, and that poor little girl, that I'd like to hug,
+is another. I knew that wretch on the jury was against us from the
+first. There was a sly, wicked look in his eyes every time he turned
+towards us, and when he began to speak I felt as if some one was
+cutting a cork; he set all my teeth on edge. Ought such a monster to
+be allowed to sit on a jury?"
+
+"Who's to prevent it?" said Uncle Rob, thoughtfully. "He's there, and
+has to be reckoned with, though I doubt whether we can do any good.
+Likes and dislikes, when there's nothing tangible to back them up,
+count for nothing; and feelings count for nothing. When people shiver
+and grate their teeth at the squeaking of a cork other people who
+don't mind it only laugh at them."
+
+"There's nothing to laugh at here, father," said Aunt Rob,
+impatiently.
+
+"I know that as well as you do, mother; I don't think any of us are in
+a laughing humour. I'm trying to reason the matter out, and to do that
+fairly you must take care not to let prejudice cloud your judgment.
+When little Gracie Death overhears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise,' what proof have we that it
+has anything to do with the juryman's duties on the inquest?"
+
+"No proof at all," said Dick, "but doesn't it look like it?"
+
+"Such an inference may be drawn, but an inference won't help us. It's
+no good mincing matters. Dr. Vinsen is on the right side of the hedge,
+and we are on the wrong, and that makes all the difference; he has the
+advantage of us. Reginald has put it clearly, and we must be prepared.
+Every hour a fresh complication crops up, and there's no telling what
+the next will bring forth. You see a man with an open newspaper in his
+hand; peep over his shoulder to find out what he's reading. It's the
+Catchpole Square Mystery, and he's running his eyes eagerly down the
+columns to see if anybody's caught, if anybody's charged. It scares me
+to think of it."
+
+"What do you mean, father?" asked Aunt Rob.
+
+"Have you ever seen a bull-baiting without the bull?" said Uncle Rob,
+gravely. "The public's waiting for the bull, and they won't rest
+satisfied till he's in the ring. That's where the danger is. They
+don't care a straw whether it's the right bull or the wrong bull; they
+want something to bait."
+
+Reginald compressed his lips; he understood the drift of Uncle Rob's
+remarks.
+
+"Do you mean to say that they don't want to see fair play?" said Aunt
+Rob.
+
+"I don't mean that. What I'm driving at is that Dick's prejudice
+against Dr. Vinsen, whatever it may be worth, won't help us."
+
+"It will," said Dick, in a positive tone, "and I'm going to follow it
+up. Just answer me this. Do you consider that the inquest is being
+properly carried on? Do you consider it fair that private family
+affairs should be dragged before the public in the way they have
+been?"
+
+"I don't consider it fair."
+
+"Well, then, who is chiefly responsible for it? Who but the juryman
+that little Gracie catches conspiring with Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Conspiring!"
+
+"That's the word, conspiring, and I don't care who hears me. The jury
+on the inquest are sworn, like any other jury, and if it can be proved
+that, before the inquiry is opened, before any evidence is taken,
+there is on the part of one of them an arrangement with an outside
+party to return a certain verdict, that I should imagine is a
+conspiracy, and the law can be made to touch them." Uncle Rob shook
+his head doubtfully. "Well, anyway, there's a free press, and the
+making of such a conspiracy public would influence public opinion, and
+there would be no baiting of the wrong bull, even though he was in the
+ring. 'Hold hard a bit,' the public would cry, 'let us see fair
+play!'"
+
+"Not badly put, Dick," said Uncle Rob, and Florence pressed the young
+man's hand.
+
+"As things stand," he went on with enthusiasm, "it looks very much
+like a match between me and Dr. Vinsen--or, at all events, that's the
+way I view it, and if he were standing before me this present moment
+I'd fling my glove in his face, and be glad if it hurt him. How does
+that juryman fellow become so familiar with our private affairs? It's
+through him you're compelled to tell all about Florence's marriage.
+It's through him that it's been drummed into the public ear that
+Reginald is the only man who benefits by his father's death.
+Bull-baiting is nothing to the way some of us have been treated in
+court; and the prime mover of it all is Dr. Vinsen, who stands behind
+and pulls the strings."
+
+"But what has Dr. Vinsen to gain by it?" asked Uncle Rob, bewildered,
+and yet half convinced by Dick's intense earnestness.
+
+"That's to be found out, and I'm going to, as little Gracie says. If
+he has given me something to ponder over I've given him something
+that'll set his wits at work, unless I'm very much mistaken; and I
+haven't half done with him, nor a quarter. Don't ask me what my
+plans are; it would be the spoiling of them if I let you into the
+secret--and I mustn't forget that an inspector of police is in the
+room, who would do his duty though it should break the hearts of those
+who are dearest to him." These words were spoken with exceeding
+tenderness, and caused more than one heart in the room to throb. "If
+cunning is to be met with cunning, watching with watching, spying with
+spying, trickery with trickery, Dr. Vinsen will find that I am ready
+for him. Look here. What makes him start up all at once and go to Mrs.
+Death, and on the very first night he sees her give her a couple of
+sovereigns? Benevolence? Charity? That for his benevolence and
+charity!" Dick snapped his fingers contemptuously. "What makes him
+tell Mrs. Death a parcel of lies to poison her ears against me? What
+makes him tell me at your father's funeral, Reginald, that his heart
+is large, that it bleeds for all, and that it would be better for some
+of us if we were in our graves? What do I care for his bleeding heart,
+the infernal hypocrite? I'd make it bleed if I had my will of him,
+with his fringe of hair round his shining bald head! As for Dr. Pye,
+that mysterious gentleman keeps himself in the background till he
+sends a letter to the Coroner, saying he has evidence of great
+importance to give. We heard what that evidence was, and we've a lot
+to thank him for, haven't we? Did you notice him as he looked round
+the court till he stopped at Reginald? Accident? No! Premeditation!"
+They started. "I repeat--premeditation. I don't know for what reason,
+but I _will_ know. I don't know what tie there is between Dr. Pye and
+Dr. Vinsen, but I _will_ know. There's black treachery somewhere, and
+I'll ferret it out. Uncle, Aunt, Florence, Reginald, don't think I'm
+mad. I give you my word I am in my sober senses when I say that behind
+the mystery of this dreadful murder that has brought so much sorrow
+into this happy home there is another mystery which I'm going to solve
+if I die for it! I'll leave no stone unturned--for your dear sakes!"
+
+His earnestness, his sincerity, the fervour of his voice, the loving
+glances he cast upon them, sank into their hearts--but it was upon
+Florence's face that his gaze lingered, and he trembled when,
+murmuring, "Dear Dick, you fill us with hope!" she gave him a sisterly
+kiss.
+
+"Dick," said Aunt Rob, tearfully, "there was a time when I thought you
+had no stability, and when I said as much to Uncle Rob. I take it
+back, my lad, I take it back!"
+
+"Don't be too hasty, aunt," he said, with a light attempt at gaiety.
+"Wait and see if anything comes of it. Reginald, I've something more
+to say. There's no mistake, is there, about your having got to your
+lodgings last Friday night week before twelve o'clock?"
+
+"I am certain it must have been before that hour," replied Reginald.
+"As I told them at the inquest yesterday, I cannot entirely depend
+upon my memory. It frequently happens that when there's an important
+subject in one's mind--as there was that night in mine--a small
+incident which has no relation to it impresses itself upon the memory.
+That was the case with me. I can distinctly recall taking out my watch
+when I was in my bedroom, winding it up, looking at the time, and
+putting it back into my waistcoat pocket."
+
+"Did any person see you enter the house? Think hard, Reginald."
+
+"No person, in my remembrance."
+
+"When you put the latchkey in the door the policeman might have been
+passing?"
+
+"He might have been. I did not see him."
+
+"No one saw you go upstairs?"
+
+"Not that I know of. The house is always very quiet at that hour."
+
+"I paid your landlady a visit last night," said Dick, "and she does
+not know what time you came home; neither does the servant, who
+doesn't seem blessed with a memory at all. It is most unfortunate that
+we cannot get a witness who could testify to the hour of your return
+to your lodgings. It would effectually dispose of Dr. Pye's evidence,
+so far as you are concerned, for he says he threw his flashlight at
+three in the morning. By Jove!" Dick exclaimed, looking at the clock
+on the mantelpiece, "it's ten o'clock, and the Coroner's Court opens
+at eleven. I sha'n't be there till late, unless there's a warrant out
+against me"--Dick laughed lightly, as though a warrant were the least
+thing they had to fear. "There's the printing to see to; I don't
+intend to leave the printing office till the reward bills are out. Now
+let's settle how they're to be drawn up; we've got just half-an-hour.
+Aunt Rob, I wish you'd do a kind action for once in your life."
+
+"What is it, Dick?"
+
+"Little Gracie is just round the corner, waiting for me; you won't see
+the tip of her nose unless you turn the street, for I told her to keep
+out of sight. She's my shadow, you know, and I haven't the heart to
+order her not to follow me about. What the child sees in me to haunt
+me as she does is more than I can understand."
+
+"What we all see in you," said Aunt Rob, tenderly.
+
+"Oh, of course. Well, it's my opinion little Gracie came away from
+home this morning without any breakfast----"
+
+Aunt Rob broke in upon him. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
+letting a hungry child stand alone in the cold streets all this time."
+Out she ran to pounce upon Gracie.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," said Dick, gazing after her, "that the Lord
+will allow any harm to come to a woman like that, or trouble that
+can't be cleared away to come to anyone she loves? No, no; the world
+wouldn't be worth living in if that were so. Where she is, sunshine
+is, and love, and charity, and hope--and justice. God bless Aunt Rob!"
+
+And "God bless Aunt Rob!" they all said, with something shining in
+their eyes.
+
+Back she came, holding Gracie by the arm. They all looked kindly at
+the child.
+
+"Any trouble to get her here, aunt?" asked Dick, cheerily.
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"It's all right, you know, Gracie," he said.
+
+"Yes, Dick, I know," she answered, solemnly.
+
+There was something so patient and uncomplaining, so piteous and
+brave, in the child that hearts less susceptible than theirs could not
+have failed to be touched. Florence stooped and kissed her, and there
+was a little trembling of her bloodless lips; it was the only sign of
+emotion she displayed, and it was gone in a moment. The dry, hoarse
+cough had not left her, and she was not successful in keeping it back.
+Every time it sounded through the room Aunt Rob shivered.
+
+"You men had best go into the next room and settle your business," she
+said; "you haven't too much time to spare, and we don't want you
+meddling with women's affairs." Away they went, meekly. "Gracie, you
+sit here, and don't be shy with us, my dear, we're only homely people,
+the same as yourself. Florence, put another spoonful of tea in the
+pot, and there's the kettle boiling, just in the nick of time. Now, my
+dear, you make a good breakfast--I want you to drink your tea as hot
+as you can, it will ease your cough--it's Dick's cup you're drinking
+out of, you won't mind that, _I_ know--he's told us such a lot about
+you, and everything that's good--cut some more bread and butter,
+Florence--are you fond of jam, Gracie?--but what a question!--when I
+was a little girl I could eat a pot, only they wouldn't give me so
+much at a time--this is Dick's favourite jam, raspberry----" And all
+the time the good woman chattered she was putting food before Gracie,
+and coaxing her to eat, shaking her head at the child's attempts not
+to cough violently, and shaking her head more when she put her hand on
+the bosom of the poor little frock, and discovered how thinly she was
+clad. And all the time Gracie sat quiet at the table and ate, not
+greedily but gratefully, her eyes fixed now on Aunt Rob, and now on
+Florence, with the sweet thought in her mind, "Dick's told 'em a lot
+about me, and everything that's good!"
+
+Breakfast over, they took Gracie upstairs, Aunt Rob saying, "Dick 'll
+be here when we come down, my dear"; and in the bedroom above they
+took off her frock and slipped a warm undervest over the bony chest,
+and another over that, and found a pair of thick stockings that had
+once been worn by a child, and a child's flannel petticoat, and other
+things to match--and there stood Gracie, clothed more comfortably and
+warmly than ever she had been from her birth. And where did Aunt Rob
+find these garments so suitable and fitting for Gracie? They had been
+laid aside in a drawer, with many others, and had once clothed her own
+darling when she was no bigger than the poor little waif to whom they
+had been so ungrudgingly presented. To listen to the mother's wistful
+prattle, to witness the tender handling of this and that garment, to
+see the fond way she put them to her cheeks and kissed them, to note
+the loving looks she cast upon them as memory brought back the day and
+hour when Florence first wore them--true motherhood was never more
+beautifully expressed. And Gracie submitted without uttering a
+word--no sign of emotion on her sallow face, no sighs of delight, no
+tears. But when all was done and Aunt Rob sat down to rest, Gracie
+knelt before her and laid her head in her lap. Florence sat down too,
+and her hand rested lightly on the child's shoulder. Somehow or other
+these sweet offices of sweetest humanity seemed to soften the trouble
+that hung over their heads. Aunt Rob and Florence thought, "God will
+protect dear Reginald. He will hold His shield before us. Upon His
+mercy we will rely. He will see justice done, and we shall all be
+happy once more." While in Gracie's mind was the thought, "I shall
+find father, I shall find father, and mother won't be angry with me
+much longer." For quite two or three minutes there was silence in the
+room, and when Gracie raised her tearless eyes to Aunt Rob's face the
+good woman stroked the thin cheek and said,
+
+"There, that's done, and now we'll go down to Dick. He'll be wondering
+what has become of us."
+
+It was then that Gracie spoke.
+
+"Don't you think mother ain't good to us," she said. "There never was
+a better mother than she's been--and there's such a lot of us," she
+added, wistfully. "I'd rather starve than have you think mother ain't
+good to us!"
+
+"Bless your loving heart, my dear," Aunt Rob returned, kissing her.
+"I'm sure she must be the best mother in all the world to have a
+loving daughter like you."
+
+"Oh, me!" said Gracie. "_I_ ain't much good. But, mother!--she worries
+over my cough so that sometimes I wish I was dead, so that she
+couldn't hear it, and she sets up all night mending our clothes. I've
+caught her at it over and over agin. She'd starve herself for us she
+would. You'd believe me if you knew her."
+
+"I believe you now, my dear. We are all very, very sorry for her!"
+
+"You've been ever so good to me, and so's mother, but she can't do
+what she can't, can she?"
+
+"No one can, Gracie."
+
+"She'll be glad when she sees me with these things on. There's nobody
+like her, nobody. I wish I could pick up a pursefull of money to give
+her; but it'll be all right, you know, when we find father."
+
+"The sooner he's found the better it will be for a good many people,"
+said Aunt Rob, with a pitying glance at the loyal child, and yet with
+a kind of anger in her heart. Tenderly disposed as she was towards
+Gracie, deep as was her compassion for her miserable state and her
+admiration for the noble qualities she displayed, Aunt Rob believed
+Abel Death to be the cause of all this trouble, believed that he had
+murdered Samuel Boyd, and had basely deserted his family with the
+proceeds of his crime.
+
+Meanwhile the men of the family had been having a discussion below
+which had led to the withdrawal of Uncle Rob from the council. The
+first point discussed was the amount of the rewards to be offered.
+Reginald wished it to be large, and, supported by Dick, suggested £500
+for the discovery and conviction of the murderer, and £200 for the
+discovery of Abel Death. Uncle Rob opposed this, and contended that
+much smaller sums would be sufficient, bringing forward instances
+where the offer of disproportionate rewards had been the cause of
+innocent persons being accused. His views not being accepted, he had
+reluctantly given way. Then they came to the manner in which the bills
+were to be worded, and Dick had gone to his clothes trunk and had
+fished therefrom a miscellaneous collection of literature, which he
+placed before them.
+
+"I once tried my hand at writing a sensation novel," he said, "and I
+got together a lot of stuff to assist me. I made a muddle of the
+story, and when I was in the middle of it I gave it up. Do you
+remember this case, uncle?"
+
+He held up a poster offering a reward of £100 for the discovery of a
+murderer. At the top of the bill was the Royal Coat-of-Arms, beneath
+it, in large type, the word MURDER, and beneath that "£100 Reward."
+
+"I remember it well," said Uncle Rob. "That was the Great Porter
+Square Mystery. It caused great excitement at the time, and the papers
+were full of it. A long time elapsed before the truth came out."
+
+"And then it wasn't due to Scotland Yard," said Dick; "they made
+rather a mess of it there. There is one curious point of resemblance
+between that case and ours."
+
+"I wouldn't speak of that now," said Uncle Rob, with an uneasy glance
+at Reginald.
+
+"Why not? Reginald is prepared for anything that may happen."
+
+"Quite prepared," said Reginald. "Go on, Dick."
+
+"You were abroad when all England was ringing with it, and that, I
+expect, is the reason that it didn't reach your ears. I saw in one
+paper yesterday a comparison between the cases. The curious point of
+resemblance is that the son of the murdered man was arrested by the
+police as the murderer----"
+
+"They did not know at the time that he was the son," interrupted Uncle
+Rob, hurriedly.
+
+"That didn't justify them. The beauty of it is that after going
+through no end of trouble and persecution he was proved to be
+innocent."
+
+"I see," said Reginald, composedly.
+
+"What do you want the bill for?" asked Uncle Rob.
+
+"As a literary guide. We will word our bill exactly like it."
+
+"But it is an official bill."
+
+"Couldn't have a better pattern."
+
+"Can't you word it some other way, Dick?"
+
+"No, uncle," replied Dick, almost defiantly. "This is the model I
+intend to use."
+
+Uncle Rob rose. "God forbid that I should do anything to prevent the
+truth being brought to light----"
+
+"Why, uncle!----"
+
+"But the position I hold," continued Uncle Rob, firmly, "will not
+allow me to sanction by my co-operation the use and form of official
+documents. Besides, if it got to be known it would do more harm than
+good. My dear lads, I'll wait outside till you've done. I doubt my own
+judgment in this matter; my heart and my head are at odds."
+
+So saying, he left them. He was not the only one whose heart and head
+were in conflict during this crisis; Dick alone could be depended upon
+to pursue a certain course with calm, unshaken mind, and now, when he
+and Reginald were together, he met with no opposition. The
+preliminaries, therefore, were soon arranged, and they returned to the
+breakfast room at the moment that Aunt Rob and Florence and Gracie
+entered.
+
+"Why, Gracie," exclaimed Dick, his face flushing with pleasure at the
+improvement in her attire, "you look like a princess."
+
+"She did it," said Gracie, pointing to Aunt Rob; "and oh, Dick, I do
+feel so nice and warm underneath!"
+
+"Never was a fairy godmother like Aunt Rob," said Dick, and was going
+on when she stopped him abruptly.
+
+"Where's father?"
+
+"Walking up and down outside till you're ready. He didn't agree to
+something I proposed, and between you and me he ought not to have a
+hand in what I'm about to do."
+
+"He's in a cruel position. Florence, its half-past ten; we must get
+ready. You do what you've got to do, Dick, and don't talk so free
+before Uncle Rob about your plans; it only upsets him."
+
+"All right, aunt." He hesitated a moment, then went up to Florence,
+who was putting on her hat. "Florence, dear, you must be brave."
+
+"I'll try to be, Dick."
+
+"Keep a stout heart, whatever the verdict may be. It was very dark
+last night, and I kept my eyes on a star that was trying to break
+through the clouds. I put a great stake on that star, Florence. I said
+to myself, 'If it breaks through and I see it shining bright,
+Florence, after a little while, will be the happiest woman in
+England.' A great stake, Florence."
+
+"Yes, dear Dick."
+
+"It glimmered and glimmered. A cloud passed over it, another, another,
+but its light was never quite obscured. Remember that."
+
+"I will."
+
+"And then at last, when there seemed to be no hope for it, the clouds
+cleared away, and it shone as bright, as bright!--and the stake was
+won. That is how it's going to be with the trouble that's upon us. You
+see, Florence, it wasn't only your happiness that was at stake; it was
+mine as well."
+
+"Yours, Dick!" And now there was a look of pain in her eyes.
+
+"Yes, mine, for if, working with all my heart and soul, I can realise
+my dearest wish, you will have a long life of happiness with the man
+you love." He looked brightly around. "Good luck, my dears. Come,
+Gracie."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+                       IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE
+
+
+"Now Gracie," said Dick, as they wended their way to a small "jobbing"
+printer with whom he was acquainted; he himself had spent a few weeks
+in a printing office, and, as a Jack of all trades, could do something
+in the way of picking up stamps. "Now, Gracie, pay particular
+attention to what I'm going to say."
+
+"_I'd_ like to have a word first, please," she said.
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"Who is that young gentleman with the white face that the young lady's
+so fond of?"
+
+"The young lady's husband, the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"Mr. Reginald. I thought so. He don't look as if he could have done
+it."
+
+"Done what?"
+
+"You know. The murder."
+
+"He did not do it, Gracie. I suppose you heard Dr. Vinsen say he did."
+
+"He was talking to mother, but he didn't say it outright----"
+
+"Ah, the coward! I hope you don't believe a word that drops from his
+lips."
+
+"_I_ don't; but mother does. Don't blame her, Dick; she can't help
+it."
+
+"No, poor thing. I pity her from my heart, torn this way and that as
+she is. But she's not the only one whose heart is aching over this
+affair. There's care and sorrow yonder." He pointed over his shoulder
+in the direction of Aunt Rob's house. "Gracie," he said energetically,
+"I'd pour out my heart's blood, drop by drop, if by doing so I could
+clear that trouble away!"
+
+"You're fond of her, Dick."
+
+He glanced furtively at the sallow impassive face raised to his. "She
+is my cousin, and Aunt Rob has been a mother to me. I've lived with
+them longer than I can remember. The last words I said to her just now
+were that I wanted to see her happy with the man she loved. That's
+what I'm working for, her happiness--that, and justice. Shall we go
+into partnership, you and I?"
+
+"Yes, Dick, please."
+
+"Your hand on it."
+
+They shook hands, and he resumed his old bright manner.
+
+"There never was a successful partnership without implicit confidence
+between the partners. Do you understand?"
+
+"They mustn't be suspicious of one another."
+
+"That's it. There must be perfect trust between them. I believe in
+you, Gracie, and I'd trust you with my life." Gracie's black eyes
+gleamed. "You're what I call thorough, and you've got the pluck of
+twenty men. We're sailing, you and I, in the ship Endeavour for the
+port Safety. There's only one captain in that ship, as there must be
+in all properly commanded ships when they're sailing through dangerous
+rocks. Now, who's the captain?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Good. I'm captain, and you're first mate, and no captain could desire
+a better. Says the captain to the first mate, 'Mate,' says he, 'I hear
+as how your father's disappeared, and as how they're saying hard
+things of him. That's what oughtn't to be, and we'll mend it. He's got
+to be found, your father is, and brought for'ard,' says the captain,
+'so that he may knock them hard words down their con-founded throats.'
+'That's so,' says the mate--it's you that's speaking now, you know"--
+Gracie nodded--"'that's so,' says the mate, 'and that's what I've made
+up my mind to do, and what I'm going to do. I've had a dream where
+he's to be found,' says the first mate----"
+
+"More than one, Dick--captain, I mean," said Gracie.
+
+"Right you are, my hearty, and there's many a dream that's come true,
+and likewise many that haven't. 'But it isn't because you've had a
+dream,' says the captain, 'that _I_ shouldn't have a shy at the
+discovery of him, and that's what I've set _my_ mind on, if so be as
+you've no objections,' he says. 'Objections!' says the first mate,
+'_I've_ no objections'"--Here Dick broke off. "I suppose he hasn't,
+Gracie?"
+
+"No, Dick, he hasn't. He thinks it more than kind of the captain."
+
+"Love your heart, I knew you wouldn't have. 'And how are you going to
+set about it?' says the first mate. 'Why,' says the captain, planting
+his wooden leg firmly on the deck--did I tell you he had a wooden
+leg?"
+
+"No, you didn't," said Gracie, quite gravely.
+
+"Well, I just remember that he had. 'Why,' says he, planting his
+wooden leg firmly on the deck, 'seeing as how that good woman, Mrs.
+Abel Death, and Gracie, and all the other little ones, are more
+unhappy than words can express because father doesn't come home, and
+as how it may be to some persons' interests to keep him _from_ coming
+home, I'm thinking of offering a reward to anybody that can give
+information as to his whereabouts--in point of fact to find him and
+restore him to the bosom of his family.' That's what the captain says
+to the mate--because he wants to act fair and square by him, and not
+do anything behind his back as might make him doubt that he _wasn't_
+acting fair and square--and he asks the mate what he thinks of the
+idea."
+
+"To _find_ him, captain, not to _catch_ him," said Gracie, slowly,
+with a strong accent on the two words.
+
+"That is how the captain puts it. To find him, and restore him to the
+bosom of his family."
+
+Gracie nodded, and pondered before speaking. "If the mate--that's me,
+Dick--found father, would _he_ have the reward?"
+
+"As a matter of course."
+
+"Who'd pay it to him?"
+
+"It would be paid through the captain."
+
+"Through you?"
+
+"Through me."
+
+"Then there'd be sure to be no cheating, and the mate could give it to
+mother."
+
+"Could do what he pleased with it," said Dick, dropping his nautical,
+and coming back to his original, self, "and we're going straight to
+the printer to get the bill printed."
+
+"How much is the reward, Dick?"
+
+"Two hundred pounds."
+
+"Oh, my!" Gracie caught her breath. "I don't believe father was ever
+worth as much as that in all his life. That's a big lot of money,
+ain't it?"
+
+"A tidyish sum. You don't object?"
+
+"You can't do nothing wrong, Dick."
+
+"Then the partnership goes on swimmingly, and you won't mind seeing it
+on the walls. There will be another bill, offering a larger reward for
+the conviction of the murderer. All we want to get at is the truth, so
+that the innocent may be cleared and the guilty punished. I'm of the
+opinion it will surprise Dr. Vinsen. The slimy reptile! I'd like to
+twist his neck for him."
+
+"I'd like to see you do it," said Gracie, not a muscle of her face
+moving.
+
+"You're something like a partner. Have you any idea where the reptile
+lives?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You could find out, I dare say."
+
+"Oh, yes, I can find out if you want me to," said Gracie, quite
+confidently.
+
+"That's your sort. Only don't look for him in the reptile house at the
+Zoo, where his relations live. I want to know ever so many things
+about him. Whether he lives alone, or has a wife. Whether he has any
+children, and whether they have little bald heads with halos round
+them like their venerable parent. Whether he practises as a doctor,
+and what his neighbours think of him, etc., etc., etc. It's a large
+order, Gracie."
+
+"I'll do it, Dick."
+
+"You're a brick. Here we are at the printer's. But you mustn't go away
+without the needful for current ex's. You might want to jump into a
+bus, and if you keep out all day you'll want something to eat. Hold
+out your hand--one shilling, two shillings, a sixpence, and some
+coppers. If you've anything to tell me come to Aunt Rob's house any
+time between six and eight. I've a particular reason for not wanting
+to be seen with you in Catchpole Square to-night. Here are a couple
+more coppers for brandyballs for the babies at home. Now, off with
+you, my little detective. No sleeping partners in our firm. You and I,
+working together, will make Scotland Yard sit up. We'll beat the
+Criminal Investigation Department, even if it has a dozen Dr. Vinsens
+to back it up. Here's a kiss for good luck, Gracie."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," said Gracie, and away she scudded, proud of the
+task entrusted to her.
+
+Neither of them had noticed that they had been followed in a shambling
+sort of way by an old man in list slippers with a skull cap on his
+head, sucking at a pipe which, in his close observance of them, he had
+allowed to go out. He was blear-eyed, and was cursed with a spasmodic
+twitching on the right side of his face, which imparted to his
+features a ghastly mirth; and close as was his observance of them he
+had so managed as not to draw their attention upon him. During the
+last moment or two he had shuffled so near to them as to brush their
+clothes as he passed, and had heard the concluding words of their
+conversation.
+
+"'Thank you, Dick,'" he echoed, with a half-tipsy lurch, as Gracie
+flew away and Dick entered the printing office. "Dick! It's the man
+himself. Who'll give _me_ a kiss for good luck?"
+
+He laughed and twitched, and with his eye on the door through which
+Dick had passed, proceeded with trembling fingers to refill his pipe.
+
+There was a fair stock of "jobbing" type in the printing office, and
+the master, a working printer himself, was the very man Dick needed
+for the job in hand, trade being rather slack. In imitation of the
+official announcement of a reward in the Great Porter Square murder
+Dick had placed a Royal Coat of Arms at the top of his bill, but the
+printer argued him out of it, being doubtful whether a private
+individual had the right to use it for the detection of the
+perpetrator of a criminal offence. But for the better publicity of the
+reward Dick was bent upon a pictorial illustration, and out of a lot
+of old woodcuts they fished a rough wood-block of the figure of
+Justice, blindfold, holding the scales, which suggested the line
+beneath, "In the Cause of Justice." Within an hour the type was set
+up, corrected, locked in its chase, and on the press, the paper was
+damped, the "devil," a young apprentice, was wielding his roller, and
+the master printer, his sleeves tucked up to his shoulders, was
+pulling off the posters, which read thus:
+
+At the top the figure of even-handed Justice; then--
+
+
+                      _IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE_.
+
+                              _MURDER_.
+                            _£500 REWARD_.
+
+
+_Whereas, on the Morning of Saturday, the 9th of March, the Dead Body
+of Mr. Samuel Boyd was Found on his Premises in Catchpole Square under
+such circumstances as prove that he was Murdered, and Medical
+Testimony has been given to the effect that the Murder must have been
+Committed either on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March. The
+above Reward will be paid to any Person who shall give such
+Information as shall lead to the Discovery and Conviction of the
+Murderer or Murderers_.
+
+_Evidence may be given to Mr. Lamb, 42, High Street, N., Solicitor to
+Mr. Reginald Boyd, Son of the Murdered Gentleman, who will pay the
+Reward, or at any Police Station in the United Kingdom_.
+
+
+The services of a bill-sticker not being immediately procurable, a
+large tin of paste had been mixed while the bills were being printed.
+Begging the loan of a pasting brush, and begging also the loan of the
+"devil" to carry the paste tin, Dick, now more than ever a Jack of all
+trades, issued forth to stick the bills himself, leaving behind him
+the copy of the poster offering a reward for the discovery of Abel
+Death. He was pasting the first of the bills on a dead wall when he
+saw the figure of the old man in list slippers and skull cap standing
+by his side.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, peering down at the twitching face, with its
+expression of ghastly mirth.
+
+"Hallo!" said the old man, peering up at the flushed, handsome face of
+the bill-sticker.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLV.
+
+                           CROSS PURPOSES.
+
+
+Dick recognised him instantly, and scented danger. The man who peered
+up at him, with all the leering muscles of his face at work, was the
+man of whom he had bought the rope and grapnel. With assumed
+carelessness he said,
+
+"You'll know me when you see me again, old fellow."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder," said the old man. "My name's Higgins. What may
+your'n be?"
+
+Dick had not quite finished sticking the first bill. Whether from not
+being used to the business, or from inward perturbation, he was making
+rather a bungle of it. Under any circumstances, however, he would have
+been ready to admit that there is an art even in bill-sticking.
+
+"Let's make a guess, shall us?" said Mr. Higgins, with a cunning look,
+plunging into doggerel. "Riddle-me-riddle-meriddle-me-ree, first comes
+a, then b c d; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rye, the letter we stop
+at next is i; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rick, a c and a k will
+make it spell Dick." Mr. Higgins was so enamoured of this impromptu
+that he chuckled to himself, "Will make it spell Dick, will make it
+spell Dick."
+
+"Look here," said Dick, an uncomfortable feeling spreading over him,
+"what do you want?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum," replied Mr. Higgins, suddenly descending from the
+heights of Parnassus.
+
+"All right," said Dick, "at the first pub we come to."
+
+"Pub over there," said Mr. Higgins, twitching his head at the opposite
+side of the road. "Throat dry as a bit o' rusty iron."
+
+The bill was stuck, and people were stopping to read it. Even in these
+days of huge and startling advertisements on the walls--not the least
+conspicuous of which are the lank figures of blue or scarlet females
+in outrageous costumes and impossible postures, the product of a
+mischievous school of impressionists--even amidst these monstrous
+parodies of art a double-demy poster offering a reward of £500 for the
+discovery of a Murderer is certain to command an audience. So it was
+natural enough that a little crowd should gather, and that eager
+comments and opinions should be exchanged.
+
+"That's a big reward. £500!" "Ought to have been offered before.
+What's that picture on the top? Justice, eh, holding the scales? If
+she's anything like that, _I_ don't think much of her. Anyway I wish I
+knew where to lay hands on the man that murdered Samuel Boyd. Set me
+up for life it would." "Murderers you mean. When the truth comes out
+you'll find there's a regular gang, with Abel Death at the head of
+'em." "Well, _I_ don't believe he's in it. I heard a detective say
+yesterday----" "Oh, a detective. Much good _they_ are!" "I say, don't
+you consider it a rum go that Mr. Reginald Boyd should be offering the
+reward? Why, there's any number of people says _he_ did it." "How can
+that be when he says he's willing to pay £500 for the discovery and
+conviction?" "Ah, but that might be a plant, you know. They've been
+that cunning from first to last that there's no saying what they
+mightn't be up to." "What comes over me is what they've done with Lady
+Wharton's jewellery. Nice lot the ladies of the upper suckles,
+borrowing money secretly of such a cove as Samuel Boyd. I s'pose it's
+their gen-teel way of putting things up the spout. Now, what are they
+going to do with it when she can swear to every bit of it?" "Do with
+it? Take it to Amsterdam or New York. Easy to get rid of it there."
+"Why go so fur? Ain't there plenty of fences in London?" "Never catch
+'em, never! There's no clue." "No clue! How about that bullet in the
+wall, and the blood-stains on the floor?" "But the old man wasn't shot
+or stabbed. What d'yer make of that?" "Why, that they had a barney
+among theirselves when they was dividing the swag. Another man
+murdered, most likely." (Delicious suggestion.) "What did they do with
+his body?" "Carried it to the river, tied a big stone to it and sunk
+it. When the reward gets known they'll be dragging the water from
+Greenwich to Windsor." "Well, of all the mysterious murders _I_ ever
+heard of this Catchpole Square one takes the cake." "Queer move, ain't
+it, offering a reward before the inquest's over? What's the verdict
+going to be? There's a cove on the jury seems to know as much about it
+as most people."
+
+To this and a great deal more Dick listened, and Mr. Higgins listened,
+without either of them saying a word. Dick lingered because he wished
+to find out what would be the probable effect of these bills on the
+walls; and Mr. Higgins, pulling at his under lip, listened because
+Dick listened, and watched the young man's face cunningly to see what
+impression the various arguments made upon him. There was malice in
+his bloodshot eyes, and Dick did not like the look of things. While
+thus ruminating and listening, Mr. Higgins touched him on the arm with
+his empty pipe.
+
+"Fine day, Mr. Higgins," he said, in his free and easy way.
+
+"Beastly day," growled Mr. Higgins. "I'm shaking all over."
+
+"What's good for the complaint?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum, to commence with."
+
+"I have to work for my living," said Dick, brightly, "and if you
+insist upon my standing you a quartern of rum you'll have to carry the
+paste pot."
+
+"See you--hanged first," said Mr. Higgins, with a mirthless laugh.
+
+"Think better of it," said Dick, insinuatingly, holding out the paste
+pot.
+
+After a moment's hesitation Mr. Higgins thought better of it, and took
+the paste pot, with a grimace, to the imminent risk of the contents.
+Then Dick dismissed the printer's boy, and with the bundle of damp
+bills under his arm walked over to the publichouse, Mr. Higgins,
+carrying the shaking paste pot, and following close at his heels.
+
+"Where will you have your rum," he asked, "at the bar, or in a private
+room?"
+
+"Private room," said Mr. Higgins. "Better for all parties."
+
+They were soon accommodated, and liquor supplied, bitter ale for Dick,
+and rum for the old man, which he disposed of in one gulp. He then
+demanded another quartern, which Dick called for, and disposed of it
+in an equally expeditious manner.
+
+"You've got a swallow," said Dick. "Now, my Saint Vitus friend, what's
+your little game? Leave off your damnable twitchings, and begin."
+
+Mr. Higgins fumbled in his pockets, and produced three crumpled
+newspapers which, after much difficulty, he straightened out upon the
+table, a corner of his eye on Dick all the time he was thus employed.
+With tremulous forefinger, long a stranger to soap and nail brush, he
+pointed to a sketch portrait in an account of the inquest, which Dick
+recognised as intended for himself. It being evident that Mr. Higgins
+expected him to offer an observation on the libel, he said,
+
+"Who may this individual be? It's only a head and shoulders. Is it
+supposed to be a man or a woman?"
+
+"Yah!" was Mr. Higgins's sarcastic comment. "What are you giving us?
+Can't you read what's underneath?"
+
+"Can't you?" retorted Dick.
+
+"No," snarled Mr. Higgins, twitching, not with shame, but resentment.
+"Neglected as a kid, jumped upon as a man. But a worm'll turn when
+it's trod on, won't it?"
+
+"Not being a worm, can't say. Take your word for it."
+
+"And even a man that's been jumped on all his life can see a bit o'
+luck when it's ahead of him. Look here, young fellow; take the advice
+of a man old enough to be your father."
+
+"Say great grandfather," interrupted Dick, saucily, "and get it over
+in once."
+
+"Smart you are, you think--smart; but you'll find that cheek don't pay
+in this shop, Mr. Dick Remington. D'ye twig the name printed
+underneath this portrait. 'That's a face I've seen afore,' says I to
+myself when it meets my eye. I looks at another paper." Mr. Higgins
+turned over the sheet and brought into view another portrait of
+Dick--"and strike me straight!' Why, there it is agin,' I says. 'And
+here it is agin,' I says." He turned over the third sheet, "and
+underneath 'em all the name of Dick Remington. 'What luck!' says I to
+myself. 'What a slice o' luck for a second-hand dealer in odds and
+ends as tries hard to get a honest living, and as everybody puts
+upon--with trade that bad that it couldn't be wus--taking down your
+shutters and putting 'em up agin to the tune of two and sevenpence,
+which won't as much as half pay your rent.'"
+
+"Stop your whining," said Dick, "and cut it short. What is it you
+want?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum."
+
+The answer seemed to be so settled a formula when a question of this
+kind was put to him that it mechanically popped out like a bullet from
+a gun. Pending compliance with his demand, as to which Dick did not
+hesitate, and the pouring of the liquor down his throat, as if it were
+the mouth of a vat, there was an interval of silence. Then, with a
+wandering finger on the portrait, Mr. Higgins "cut it short" in two
+words.
+
+"True bill?"
+
+"True bill," replied Dick, with an assenting nod, "and what of it?"
+
+"What of it?" cried Mr. Higgins, with venom in his voice. "Rope and
+grapnel of it!" He thrust his twitching face forward to within an inch
+or two of Dick's.
+
+"Oh, that's the game," said Dick, concealing his uneasiness. "And what
+a game it is--oh, what a game it is! Says I to myself, when I gets
+detective Lambert's evidence read out to me--'there's a man for you!
+with eyes all over him, and one to spare'--says I to myself when I
+hears that evidence, 'rope and grapnel over the wall--by the Lord,
+he's hit it!' Then I asks the boy that's reading the paper to me, 'And
+who may that be the picture of?' 'That,' says he, 'is the picture of
+Mr. Dick Remington, nephew of Inspector Robson, and cousin of the
+young lady as goes and marries the son of Samuel Boyd on the sly.'
+He's a sharp little boy, almost as sharp as you, Mr. Dick Remington.
+'O-ho!' says I to him, 'and does Mr. Dick Remington give evidence at
+the inquest?' 'Yes, he does,' says the boy, and he reads it out to me.
+'You've missed something,' I says. 'You've missed what Mr. Dick
+Remington says about the rope and grapnel.' 'He don't say nothing at
+all about it,' says the boy. 'It must be in another paper,' I says,
+and I buys 'em all, and has 'em all read out to me, word for word, and
+if you'll believe me there ain't a word in one of 'em about the use
+that Mr. Dick Remington makes of the rope and grapnel he bought of a
+honest tradesman as sweats hisself thin to get a living, and then
+can't get it. That's what I call a coinci-dence. What do _you_ call it?"
+
+"I call it a coinci-dence, too," said Dick, with a searching gaze at
+the disreputable figure, "especially when it happens to an honest
+tradesman like Mr. Higgins." There was a gleam of suspicion and doubt
+in Mr. Higgins's eye as he twitched up his head at this remark, which
+caused Dick to add, with meaning emphasis on the words, "To such a
+very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Something got in your throat?"
+
+"Caught my breath," gasped Mr. Higgins, choking and glaring.
+
+At any other time the contortions he made to recover it would have
+amused Dick, but just now he was not in the mood for any kind of light
+diversion. Still it was with a mocking air that he contemplated Mr.
+Higgins, and in a mocking tone that he repeated for the second time,
+
+"Such a very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Get on, will you? You
+left off where you'd been having all the papers read to you."
+
+That the doubt as to the success of his enterprise which Dick's
+independent manner had introduced was not lessened was apparent, for
+though what he said was pregnant enough his tone lost something of its
+confidence.
+
+"Yes, I gets 'em all read out to me, and it sets me thinking. 'What
+call has Mr. Dick Remington got to keep it dark?' says I to myself.
+'Why don't he say nothing about it? There's something in the wind. He
+comes to my shop, and buys a rope and grapnel in a secret sort o'
+way'--"
+
+"Wrong, my honest tradesman," interrupted Dick, and Mr. Higgins
+shifted uneasily in his chair, "I bought it openly. Did I ask you to
+keep it dark?"
+
+"No, you didn't, but did you go out of my shop with the rope hanging
+over your arm?' O-ho!' says I, 'here's a working man ashamed to carry
+a rope. He asks for a bit of paper to wrap it up in, he does, and he
+puts it under his coat, he does. That's a rum sort o' working man,'
+says I."
+
+"Clever Mr. Higgins," said Dick, patronisingly, "clever Mr. Higgins!"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," said that worthy, driven to exasperation by
+Dick's coolness, "that you didn't use it to get over the wall at the
+back of Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square, that it wasn't you as
+broke the kitchen winder, that you didn't break open the safe--"
+
+"Hold hard," said Dick, "you've had the papers read wrong. The safe
+was not broken open."
+
+"What does that matter?" snarled Mr. Higgins. "Broke open, or opened
+with a key, it's all the same. The man as did it helped hisself to the
+money and jewels, and made off with the swag--with _my_ rope and
+grapnel that cost me its weight in gold--how does that strike you, Mr.
+Dick?"
+
+"You old fool," said Dick, with a broad smile, "if you knock your head
+against that brick wall you'll knock out the few brains you possess.
+If you think I can't reckon up an honest tradesman like you, you were
+never more mistaken in your life." And with the forefinger of his
+right hand he tapped the side of his nose, and winked at Mr. Higgins.
+
+But though he spoke and acted thus boldly he fully recognised the
+seriousness of this new danger. Say that this man laid information
+against him at the first police station; say that it got to the
+knowledge of Detective Lambert who was searching everywhere for a clue
+to the mystery. What would be the consequence? A warrant would be
+immediately issued for his arrest, and a search warrant as well. The
+rope and grapnel, tied up in brown paper, was now under the bed of his
+room in Constable Pond's house, and the key of that room was in his
+pocket. How could he explain away his possession of the rope? He would
+be asked why he made no mention of it at the inquest; his silence
+regarding it would be a piece of damning evidence against him. And not
+the only piece. His prowling about in the neighbourhood of Catchpole
+Square at an early hour of the morning, as testified by Constable
+Applebee, was in the highest degree suspicious when taken in
+connection with his possession of the rope and grapnel. His knowledge
+of the habits of Samuel Boyd, gained during his employment as clerk in
+the house, would be against him. One thing was certain. He would be
+deprived of his liberty, and the contemplation of this contingency
+filled him with dismay. Everything depended upon his being free to
+carry out the plans he had formed, and therefore upon his turning the
+tables upon the old vagabond who sat leering into his face.
+
+And in the event of his being arrested, what would be said of him in
+Aunt Rob's home? Was it not probable, aye, more than probable, that
+they would suspect _him_ to be the murderer? He had woven a net for
+himself, and if he were not careful he would drag down Reginald with
+him. Press and public would say "collusion," and the chain of
+circumstantial evidence be too strong for him to break through.
+
+Admitting all this, he felt that any sign of weakness in the presence
+of Mr. Higgins would be fatal. There was nothing for it but to play
+the bold game.
+
+"I've a good mind," he said, slowly and sternly, "to go and give
+information against you."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Higgins, his features twitching more
+hideously than ever. Dick hailed these signs of discomposure with
+delight, and encouraged by the impression his sarcastic references to
+Mr. Higgins as an honest tradesman had produced he was quick to take
+advantage of it. He resembled the gambler who stakes his whole fortune
+upon the last throw.
+
+"Did you ever see the secret books of the police," he said, "with the
+names of certain men with black marks against them? Why, we can lay
+our hands upon every thief and fence in London when we want to--do you
+hear? when we want to." Mr. Higgins winced. "There are some things
+that lick us for a time, like this Catchpole Square Mystery, but we
+don't go to sleep over them, though some people may think we do. And
+when we're playing a high game we don't show our cards. What I mean
+is, that we'll have your place searched for stolen goods. How will
+that suit you, my honest tradesman? We can bring one or two things
+against you that you'll find it hard to explain when you're in the
+dock. If we let you alone it's because you're not worth the powder and
+shot, but get our dander up, Mr. Higgins, and we'll make short work of
+you. How does that suit your book? Take care of your precious self, my
+man, and let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+It was vague, but effective, and it was Dick's good fortune that the
+hazardous shot told. Indeed, it had gone straight to the bull's eye.
+Many were the questionable transactions in which, from time to time,
+Mr. Higgins had been engaged. Petty thieves in the neighbourhood were
+in the habit of selling their small spoils across his counter; this
+modern Fagin was always ready to buy, and no questions asked. He had
+been in trouble more than once, and was in mortal dread of getting
+into trouble again. This, of course, was unknown to Dick, and it was
+only from his familiarity with the nature of much of the business
+transacted in some of these second-hand shops in mean streets that he
+had ventured upon the bold attack. He could have hugged himself when
+he saw the effect it produced upon Mr. Higgins.
+
+"There is nothing like a good understanding in these matters, Mr.
+Higgins," he continued, "and I've no wish to be hard on you. I've got
+my own game to play, and it's keeping me pretty busy. Between
+ourselves--don't be frightened, there's nobody by--I did purchase a
+rope and grapnel of you, but is it for you to say whether I purchased
+it for myself or for another person, and what use I made of it? I
+might deny it if I chose, and then, my honest tradesman, who would
+take your word against mine? Is there any magistrate's court in London
+where your oath would be believed, much less your word? What a blind
+fool you are! Upon my word I gave you credit for more sense. Perhaps
+the reporter of 'The Little Busy Bee' used a rope and grapnel, perhaps
+he didn't. Perhaps it was the one I bought of you, perhaps it wasn't.
+I'm not going to let you into the know, Mr. Higgins. How would you
+like to have the papers down on you as well as the police? How do you
+know I'm not acting under instructions to track and catch the murderer
+or murderers of Samuel Boyd? How do you know"--here he leaned forward,
+and tapped Mr. Higgins confidentially on the breast--"that I'm not in
+the secret service myself? Would you like to hear what is in these
+bills that you are going to help me stick on the walls? I've just come
+from the printing office where I've had them printed. You can't read,
+you say; it is a pity you should be left in the dark, so I'll read it
+to you." Dick spread one out, and read it aloud, with unction. "It
+reads well, doesn't it? I'm rather proud of it. That's a figure of
+Justice on the top. My idea. Rather a good idea, I flatter myself. A
+pretty fellow you are to come and threaten me with your rope and
+grapnel! I'll tell you what your game is, Mr. Higgins. Blackmail. That
+is it--blackmail. A dangerous game, old man, and you've got hold of
+the wrong end of the stick--perhaps you see that now. If I had
+anything to fear is it likely that I'd be going about in open daylight
+sticking up these bills? More likely to be sailing on the open seas
+for some foreign port. Where are your wits, you clumsy idiot?"
+
+To judge from Mr. Higgins's appearance, they had gone wool-gathering.
+He literally gasped beneath the volley which Dick had poured upon him,
+at the end of which he was sitting in his chair in a state of helpless
+collapse. Dick had turned the tables upon him with a vengeance.
+
+"Now, what have you got to say?" he asked, triumphantly.
+
+"Quartern o' rum," gasped Mr. Higgins.
+
+"When we've finished our confab you shall have it, and another one or
+two on the top of it as we go along. Lord bless you, Mr. Higgins, I'm
+not an ill-natured chap, if you take me easy, and I have the credit of
+generally being freehanded when I'm not interfered with. Pull yourself
+together, and listen to what more I've got to say. What we want to
+do--the secret service, the detectives, the Criminal Investigation
+Department, and all of us--is to keep this matter as quiet as possible
+till the thieves and murderers are nabbed. We're working on the strict
+q.t., and we've got something up our sleeve, I can tell you. And I'll
+tell you something more. If any outsider interferes with our game by
+blabbing about ropes and grapnels it will be the worst day's work _he_
+has ever done, and he'll live to rue it. We'll wipe him out, that's
+what we'll do. We'll have no mercy on him."
+
+This was the finishing stroke. Mr. Higgins lay helpless at the foot of
+the conqueror.
+
+"I made a mistake," he whined. "Quartern o' rum."
+
+"You would sell your own mother for drink, I believe."
+
+"No, no," protested Mr. Higgins, feebly, "not so bad as that, not so
+bad as that. Good for my liver. Keeps me alive."
+
+"A nice state your liver must be in," said Dick, laughing. "I think we
+understand each other. Take up the paste pot, and carry it steady. You
+shall be paid for your day's work. Tenpence an hour, so look sharp."
+
+Mr. Higgins, completely subdued, had his fourth quartern at the bar,
+and shortly afterwards the British public had the privilege of seeing
+Dick Remington stick up the murder bills, assisted by an old man in
+skull cap and list slippers, in that stage of palsy from his recent
+experiences that his course was marked by a dribble of paste spilt
+from the pot he carried in his trembling hands. At every fresh
+stoppage a crowd gathered, arguing, disputing, airing theories. These
+chiefly consisted of conjectures as to who the murderer was, how the
+murder had been committed, how many were in it, who the man was who
+had been seen by Dr. Pye coming out of the house in Catchpole Square
+at three in the morning, whether he was the same man who had imposed
+upon Lady Wharton, how the blood-stained marks of footsteps on the
+floor were to be accounted for, whether there was any chance of the
+jewels being recovered, and so on, and so on. At one place there was a
+conversation of a different nature.
+
+"What I find fault with in that there bill," said an onlooker, a man
+with a forbidding face, dressed in corduroy, "is that no pardon is
+offered to any accomplice as didn't actually commit that there murder.
+Where's the indoocement to peach on a pal, that's what I want to
+know?"
+
+"A white-livered skunk I'd call him whatever his name might be,"
+remarked a second speaker. "Honour among thieves, that's what I say."
+
+"Oh, come," said a third, "let's draw the line somewhere."
+
+"It's what they put in the bills," grumbled the man in corduroy,
+offering no comment on these expressions of opinion, "and I don't see
+no mention of it in that there blooming bill."
+
+"It's what they put in the Government bills," said the second man,
+"but this ain't a Government bill. It's a reward of £500 offered by a
+private individual."
+
+"A private individual!" sneered the first speaker. "You don't call Mr.
+Reginald Boyd a private individual in this here case, do you? He's a
+interested party, that's what _he_ is. What I say is--and anybody can
+take it up as likes--where's the indoocement to peach on a pal?"
+
+"Well, don't take it to heart, mate," said another. At which there was
+a general laugh. "Do you know how it runs in the Government bills?"
+
+"No, I don't; but I know it's alias there, and allus should be there."
+
+"I can give you the words, if you wish to hear them," said a quiet
+onlooker, who, meditatively rubbing his chin, was watching the crowd
+and the billsticker.
+
+Dick repressed a start. It was the voice of Detective Lambert, with
+whom he was acquainted. He turned and accosted the officer, who put
+his finger to his lips, thus indicating that they were not to address
+each other by name.
+
+"Good morning," said Dick.
+
+"Good morning," said Lambert. "I did not know you were in this line of
+business."
+
+"Anything to turn an honest penny, said Dick, cheerfully.
+
+"Give us the words, mate," said the man in corduroy.
+
+"They run in this way. 'And the Secretary of State for the Home
+Department will advise the grant of her Majesty's gracious Pardon to
+any accomplice not being the person who actually committed the murder,
+who shall give such evidence as shall lead to a like result.'"
+
+"You seem to be well up in it, guv'nor."
+
+"Fairly well. I did a turn in a Government printing office once."
+
+"Then you could inform us, perhaps, as a matter of general interest,"
+said an elderly man, "whether the accomplice, who would be Queen's
+evidence----"
+
+"Yes, Queen's evidence."
+
+"Would get the reward as well as the pardon?"
+
+"In course he would," said the man in corduroy, answering for Lambert.
+"That's the beauty of it. Only wish _I_ was an accomplice in this here
+blooming murder, with them words in that there bill orfered by the
+Government. I'd touch, mates, pretty quick, that's what _I'd_ do. But
+as it stands, where's the indoocement? It ain't 'arf a bill without
+the indoocement."
+
+This insistence of the implied merit attaching to an act of treachery
+did not seem to meet with the approval of many in the crowd, who edged
+away, with distrustful looks at the speaker. Dick also walked off, and
+Detective Lambert walked by his side awhile, Mr. Higgins shambling
+humbly in the rear.
+
+"A bold move," remarked Lambert.
+
+"A proper move," said Dick. "Anything new stirring?"
+
+Lambert rubbed his chin for two or three moments without replying, and
+few persons would have supposed that he was paying much visual
+attention to the man at his side or the man in the rear; but Dick knew
+better. He knew that detective Lambert was one of the shrewdest and
+the most observant officers in the service, and that nothing escaped
+his attention.
+
+"Five hundred pounds is a good round sum," he said.
+
+"It is," said Dick. "Why not earn it?" Lambert gave him a curious
+look, surprised, for one brief moment, out of himself. "If it was a
+Government reward," continued Dick, who also had his eyes about him,
+"there wouldn't be a chance for you, for the words would run, 'the
+above reward will be paid to any person (other than a person belonging
+to a police force in the United Kingdom) who shall give such
+information,' etc. Now, this reward doesn't apply in this way. The
+reward will be willingly and gladly paid to any person, whether he
+belongs to the police or not. Is it worth considering?"
+
+"Yes," said Lambert, thoughtfully, "it is worth considering. You asked
+me whether there's any thing new stirring. Well----" But he paused
+suddenly, as if he were about to say too much. "One of these days,
+perhaps, there will be a case in the papers that, for daring and
+mystery, will beat even the Mystery of Catchpole Square."
+
+"Can't imagine one," said Dick. "It wouldn't be fair to ask if there's
+any connection between the two cases." He paused; Lambert was silent;
+Dick turned the subject. "What do you think of my new apprentice? A
+modern species of Ganymede, carrying the pastepot instead of the wine
+cup. Nothing like novelty in these days; people run crazy after it.
+Only you must keep it well advertised; everything depends upon that.
+Drop your advertisements, and youth grows wrinkled in an hour. Now,
+what we're aiming at in this mystery"--he flourished his paste
+brush--"is that, until we get at its heart, people shan't
+forget it. We'll keep it before them morning, noon, and night. No
+hole-in-the-corner business. Step up, old man." This to Mr. Higgins,
+who came shambling forward, his features twitching twenty to the
+dozen. With the eyes of so sharp an officer as Lambert upon him Dick
+was not stupid enough to dream of keeping the old man in the
+background. He knew that any such attempt would end in Lambert's
+finding means of making himself thoroughly acquainted with Mr.
+Higgins's business and character before the day was out, so he took
+the bull by the horns, and introduced his companion by name, giving
+also his trade and address. "There's a specimen of an honest tradesman
+for you. Queer sort of assistant for me to pick up?"
+
+"There's no denying it," said Lambert.
+
+"There's a little story attached to the way Mr. Higgins and I struck
+up a friendship. What's the best thing in life worth living for, old
+man?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum," replied Mr. Higgins. The answer seemed to be jerked
+out of him by force of magnetism.
+
+Dick laughed; Lambert made a movement of departure.
+
+"Are you off?" asked Dick.
+
+"Off I am. Take care of yourself."
+
+"I'll try to."
+
+Dr. Pye's countenance during his late interview with Dr. Vinsen was
+not more inscrutable than that of Detective Lambert. The trained habit
+of concealing one's thoughts is part of the stock in trade of more
+than one class of men, and shrewd as Dick was he would have found it
+beyond his power to divine what was passing in Lambert's mind as he
+strolled leisurely away, but a quiet smile on the younger man's lips
+denoted that he was not dissatisfied with the problem he had presented
+to the detective. "I've given _him_ something to puzzle over," was
+Dick's thought, "and I'm a Dutchman if I haven't thrown him off the
+scent in regard to my friend Higgins."
+
+"There's a man for you," he said, as he gazed admiringly after the
+vanishing figure of the detective. "Have you the pleasure of knowing
+the gentleman?"
+
+"Can't say as I have," was the answer.
+
+"That's the famous Detective Lambert, who gave evidence at the
+inquest. And what a ferret he is! Search France and England through,
+and you won't meet his match. He had his eye on you, I noticed." Mr.
+Higgins shivered. "If ever you get into his clutches look out for
+snakes. It's a pleasure to work with a man like that. He and I are on
+the same lay."
+
+Another hour's steady work, and the last bill was pasted on the walls
+and the last quartern of rum disposed of. Then he reckoned up what was
+due to Mr. Higgins, paid and dismissed him, and repeated his caution
+about looking out for snakes if it should be his bad fortune to fall
+into the clutches of the famous detective.
+
+"I've about settled _your_ hash," mused Dick, as he saw Mr. Higgins
+plunge into the nearest beershop. "But how do I stand with Lambert?
+That's a different pair of shoes. What did he mean about another case
+of mystery? I thought he was going to let it out, but he pulled
+himself up short. Never mind, Dick. You've had a narrow squeak to-day,
+and you've got out of it with flying colours. Go ahead, my lad, and
+stick at nothing."
+
+Had Detective Lambert followed Dick to the neighbourhood of Covent
+Garden and overheard what passed between him and certain well known
+tradesmen therein he would have had another problem to solve, in
+addition to those which were already occupying his attention.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+              "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION
+                              OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+The inquiry into the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd was resumed at the
+Coroner's Court in Bishop Street this morning before Mr. John Kent.
+Long before eleven o'clock the usual crowd of persons had gathered
+round the doors, but so numerous had been the application for seats
+from privileged and influential quarters that very few of the general
+public succeeded in gaining admittance. Intense as has been the
+interest evinced in this extraordinary case, the startling and
+unexpected revelations made by witnesses who have voluntarily come
+forward to give evidence have raised it to a level reached by no other
+murder mystery in our remembrance. It would be idle to deny that the
+evidence of the last witness examined yesterday has given a
+significant turn to the proceedings.
+
+So far as we have been able to ascertain, the police have obtained no
+clue to the man who personated Samuel Boyd and who so successfully
+imposed upon Lady Wharton in Bournemouth. We understand that it is the
+intention of her ladyship's advisers to offer a substantial reward for
+the recovery of her jewels, and a list of them, with detailed
+descriptions, has been sent to every pawnbroker in the kingdom. To
+this course we ourselves see no objection, although we are aware that
+many of the Scotland Yard officials are strongly of the opinion that
+the offer of a reward in such cases only serves to put the guilty
+parties more carefully on their guard. For the same reason they may
+object to the bills that are now being posted in London offering
+rewards for the discovery and conviction of the murderer or murderers,
+and for the discovery of Abel Death, of whom no news whatever is as
+yet forthcoming. The bills are appropriately headed "In the Cause of
+Justice," and it is to be hoped that they will assist the cause of
+justice. We make no comment upon the circumstance that Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, at whose instance this step has been taken, has made himself
+responsible for the payment of £500 in the one case and £200 in the
+other. The argument that it will stimulate persons to recall
+apparently insignificant details in connection with the movements of
+the guilty parties, and to make them public, is sound, for important
+results have been known to spring from the revelation of details which
+in ordinary circumstances would be considered too trivial to mention.
+In the course of the next few days further developments may be
+expected.
+
+It was understood that this morning's proceedings would be opened with
+the examination of Mrs. Abel Death, but before she was called Mr.
+Reginald Boyd rose and addressed the Coroner.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I ask permission to say a few words."
+
+The Coroner: "You have already been examined, Mr. Boyd, and I am
+desirous not to subject the jury to the inconvenience arising from an
+inquiry unduly protracted."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I can assure you, Mr. Coroner, and you, gentlemen
+of the jury, that I do not wish to waste your time, but you must see
+that what has transpired in the course of this inquiry affects me most
+deeply. In common justice I ask to be heard."
+
+The Juror: "Let us hear what Mr. Reginald Boyd has to say."
+
+The Coroner: "I am in your hands, gentlemen."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "After the evidence given by Dr. Pye--or rather I
+should say, after the statement he has made affecting myself--my
+desire is to declare even more positively than I did yesterday that I
+reached my lodgings on Friday night within a few minutes of midnight,
+that I went to bed, and did not arise from it for a week in
+consequence of my illness. I fear that it is not in my power to offer
+corroborative evidence. My landlady and her servant went to bed, I
+understand, between ten and eleven o'clock, and have no recollection
+of hearing anybody come into the house after they retired. It is my
+misfortune, also, that I was the only lodger in the house. I let
+myself in with my latchkey. I have no remembrance of meeting with
+anyone nor of speaking to anyone, but I can swear to the time because
+I looked at my watch, and wound it up in my bedroom."
+
+The Coroner: "Very well. Perhaps you had better not say anything
+more."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "Why not, Mr. Coroner? I desire it to be widely
+known that I court the fullest and most searching inquiry. I cannot
+avoid seeing that Dr. Pye's statement that the man he saw bore a
+striking resemblance to myself throws a grave suspicion upon me. I do
+not impugn his evidence, but I contend that it is only fair that equal
+consideration should be given to my statement as to his. I will
+endeavour to make myself clearer. I affirm upon my oath that I was in
+my bed within a few minutes of midnight, and did not leave it again.
+Dr. Pye affirms that three hours afterwards he saw a person resembling
+me leave my father's house in a suspicious manner. To the truth of my
+statement I can bring forward no witnesses. Can Dr. Pye bring forward
+any witnesses to the truth of his? If uncorroborated evidence given by
+me is open to doubt, so should uncorroborated evidence given by him be
+viewed. A man's honour--to say nothing of a son's innocence or guilt
+of so awful a crime as the murder of his father--is not to be judged
+by a stranger's unsupported word. In the sacred name of justice I
+protest against it."
+
+These words, spoken with manliness and deep emotion, made a marked
+impression upon the audience, which was deepened when they turned to
+the glowing face of the witness's wife. A murmur of sympathy ran
+through the Court.
+
+The Juror (referring to his notes): "But in your account of the
+incidents of that night you informed us that you could not depend upon
+your memory. Quoting your own words: 'I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. The fever from which I immediately afterwards
+suffered, and which kept me to my bed several days, may have been upon
+me then.' Do you adhere to that?"
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I do. In describing my condition my endeavour was
+to speak the honest truth, and to offer no excuse which could not be
+accepted by an impartial mind, nor to take advantage of any. But that
+does not affect my distinct recollection as to the time I wound up my
+watch in my bedroom."
+
+The Juror: "We must not, however, lose sight of the fact that no
+suspicion attaches to Dr. Pye, and that it is not his veracity that is
+here in question."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd (with warmth): "Is that a fair remark from one of
+the jury?"
+
+The Coroner: "It is a most improper remark, and should not have been
+made in open Court. Call Mrs. Abel Death."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+          "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE
+                               INQUEST.
+
+
+The public are by this time acquainted with much of the evidence Mrs.
+Death had to offer. After narrating the circumstances of her husband's
+dismissal from the service of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and of his going late
+at night to Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square to beg to be taken
+back, the examination proceeded as follows:
+
+"What salary did your husband receive from Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Twenty-two shillings a-week, with deductions for imaginary faults."
+
+"Did he work long hours?"
+
+"From nine in the morning till eight at night. Occasionally he worked
+overtime, but was never paid anything extra."
+
+"He was not happy in his situation?"
+
+"How could he be, sir, with such a master?"
+
+"They had frequent disagreements?"
+
+"I'm sorry to say they had; but it wasn't my husband's fault."
+
+"Did he ask Mr. Boyd for a loan of ten pounds?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He hoped it would be granted?"
+
+"We fully expected it, sir."
+
+"The refusal to grant the loan must have been a great disappointment
+to your husband?"
+
+"It almost broke his heart, sir."
+
+"May that not have exasperated him, and caused him to speak words to
+Mr. Boyd which might have been construed into a threat?"
+
+"I am sure that could not have happened. My husband was most
+particular in telling me everything that passed between them, and he
+didn't use a threatening word. He did ask Mr. Boyd if he believed in
+God, and Mr. Boyd said no, he didn't."
+
+"Then there was bad blood between them when they parted?"
+
+"I suppose there was, sir."
+
+"To what do you attribute Mr. Boyd's unexpected refusal to lend the
+money?"
+
+"To Mr. Reginald's visit in the afternoon. It made his father
+furious."
+
+"Now, as to the object of Mr. Reginald Boyd's visit in the afternoon.
+Was it to obtain money from his father?"
+
+"That was what my husband believed."
+
+"And was this the object of his second visit late at night?"
+
+"My husband said of course it must be that, but that he wouldn't get a
+penny out of the old man."
+
+"After your husband's dismissal, are you aware whether he and Mr.
+Reginald Boyd met?"
+
+"They couldn't have met, sir, or my husband would have told me."
+
+"No doubt you have heard many of the theories that have been advanced
+to account for his absence from his home?"
+
+"Well, sir, I have. Some say--the wretches!--that he murdered Mr.
+Boyd, and has run off with the money. Some say that he has made away
+with himself, but it isn't possible he could have thought of such a
+thing. I _was_ a bit afraid of it the last night I saw him when he
+started up to go to Catchpole Square, but he saw what was in my mind,
+and he said, 'Don't you think that of me. You've got trouble enough to
+bear; I'm not going to bring more upon you. I'll do my duty, and fight
+on to the bitter end.' And that's what he would have done."
+
+"Have you any idea at all as to the cause of his absence?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Foul play."
+
+"Did he have any enemies?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge, sir. He wasn't of a quarrelsome disposition."
+
+"Were there any money transactions between him and Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"Not exactly transactions, sir. Once, when we had sickness at home,
+Mr. Reginald saw that my husband was worried, and he asked him if he
+was in any trouble. Hearing what it was, and that we were frightened
+to send for a doctor because of the expense, he gave my husband two
+sovereigns. We thought it was a loan, but afterwards, when we offered
+to pay it off at a shilling a week, Mr. Reginald said it was only a
+friendly little present, and that he would be vexed if we didn't look
+upon it as such. I remember my husband saying, 'I wish I was working
+for Mr. Reginald instead of for his father.' We were very grateful to
+him, and I always looked upon him as a model young gentleman till old
+Mr. Boyd was murdered, and then----"
+
+"Why do you pause? Go on."
+
+"No, sir, I won't. It wouldn't be fair."
+
+The Juror: "But we should like to hear, Mrs. Death?"
+
+"I'm not going to say anything more about it, sir, unless you force me
+to it. Every man ought to have his chance."
+
+The Juror (to the Coroner): "I think, Mr. Coroner, the witness should
+be directed to finish the sentence."
+
+The Coroner (to Mrs. Death): "You would rather not say what is in your
+mind?"
+
+Mrs. Death: "I would rather not, sir."
+
+"Then I shall not ask you to disclose it."
+
+The Juror: "But, Mr. Coroner----"
+
+The Coroner: "I am conducting this inquiry, and I have given my
+decision." (To the witness). "How long did you remain up on Friday
+night after your husband went to make a last appeal to his employer?"
+
+"I did not go to bed at all that night. I waited for him till nearly
+two in the morning, and then I went to Catchpole Square, on the chance
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd would be able to give me some information of him.
+I knocked at the door, and hung about the Square a goodish bit, but I
+couldn't get anyone to answer me. Then I came home again, and waited
+and waited."
+
+"You went from your house at two in the morning?"
+
+"About that time, sir."
+
+"How long did it take you to reach Catchpole Square?"
+
+"It was a dark night, and I should think it took me half an hour or
+so."
+
+"So that you would be in front of Mr. Boyd's house at about half past
+two?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You knocked more than once?"
+
+"Several times, sir."
+
+"And waited between each fresh summons for an answer?"
+
+"For the answer that never came, sir."
+
+"And after that, you hung about the Square. Can you say for how long a
+time?"
+
+"I can't speak with certainty, but I should say I must have been there
+altogether quite an hour."
+
+"That brings us to half past three?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The Juror: "I see your point, Mr. Coroner, but the witness did not
+probably possess a watch."
+
+The Coroner: "Have you a watch or a clock in your rooms?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Then your statement as to the time is mere guesswork?"
+
+"No, sir. When I was in Catchpole Square I heard a church clock strike
+three."
+
+The Coroner (to a constable): "Do you know if there is an officer in
+Court who lives near Catchpole Square?"
+
+The Constable: "I do myself, sir."
+
+The Coroner: "Is there a church close by that tolls the hour?"
+
+The Constable: "Yes, sir, Saint Michael's Church."
+
+The Coroner: "It can be heard in Catchpole Square?"
+
+The Constable: "Quite plainly, sir."
+
+The Coroner: "Thank you." (To Mrs. Death). "You heard the hour strike
+when you had been some time in the Square?"
+
+"I must have been there half an hour."
+
+"And you remained some time afterwards?"
+
+"For as long again."
+
+"Are you certain that the church clock struck three?"
+
+"I am, sir. I counted the strokes."
+
+"You did not move out of the Square?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"During the whole time you were there was the door of Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's house opened?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You did not see any man come from the house, and linger on the
+threshold of the door?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"At about that hour of three did you observe a sudden flash of light
+from an opposite house?"
+
+"No, sir, it was quite dark all the time I was there."
+
+"You are quite positive?"
+
+"Quite positive, sir."
+
+While these questions were asked and answered the spectators in Court,
+many of whom had been present while Dr. Pye was giving his evidence
+yesterday, held their breath, as it were, and an expression of intense
+relief was observable in the countenances of Mr. Reginald Boyd and his
+wife and her parents.
+
+The Juror: "Do you think, Mr. Coroner, that the evidence on the point
+of time is reliable?"
+
+The Coroner: "As reliable as the evidence of witnesses on other
+points."
+
+The Juror: "It is uncorroborated."
+
+The Coroner: "So is the evidence of Dr. Pye, as Mr. Reginald Boyd
+remarked."
+
+The Juror: "So is Mr. Reginald Boyd's evidence."
+
+The Coroner: "Exactly." (To Mrs. Death.) "I have no further questions
+to ask you."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+                      THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.
+
+
+"We have now," said the Coroner, addressing the jury, "arrived at the
+end of the inquiry, so far as the examination of witnesses is
+concerned, and the duty devolves upon you of carefully considering the
+evidence, and of giving your verdict. At the opening of this inquiry I
+made a strong appeal to you to keep an open mind, and not to be
+influenced by the rumours and theories which have been freely broached
+by press and public. It is in this way that the interests of justice
+will be best served. The case is one of the gravest import, and your
+task one of unusual difficulty. For this reason I feel it my duty to
+address you at greater length than is usual in inquiries of this
+nature.
+
+"There are leading points in the case which we may take as established
+beyond dispute. One is that a murder has been committed, a murder of
+extreme brutality, and distinguished by features of extreme cunning.
+Another, that the man murdered is Mr. Samuel Boyd. Another, that the
+murder was committed on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March.
+
+"That the crime should have remained undiscovered so long is due to
+the peculiar domestic habits of the deceased, and to the facts that he
+kept no servants in his house, that he lived quite alone, and that on
+the evening of the 1st of March he dismissed the only person whom he
+kept regularly employed. Had this dismissal not been given, and had
+Mr. Abel Death, his clerk, gone to his work as usual on the following
+morning, the discovery of the murder would have been made within a few
+hours of its perpetration, and the task before you would have been
+rendered far less difficult. I would not have you attach too much
+importance to the apparent connection between the perpetration of the
+murder and the disappearance of Mr. Abel Death. Coincidences as
+strange are not uncommon in matters less serious, and it is not
+because this matter is serious that the coincidence should be
+construed to the disadvantage of a man who is absent. Up to Friday,
+the 1st of March, his relations with his employer were as fairly
+satisfactory as could have been expected from the miserable stipend he
+received and from the character of the murdered man, and, unpleasant
+as those relations became on that last day, there was nothing in them,
+so far as we are aware, to supply a reason for the committal of a
+deliberate and dastardly murder, all the details of which must have
+been carefully planned. If Mr. Abel Death had been a party to this
+plan he would hardly have asked his employer for a loan of ten pounds,
+a small sum for a rich man to grant to his confidential clerk.
+
+"For the purpose of arriving, as far as possible, at a clear
+comprehension of this part of the mystery let us for a moment follow
+the probable movements of Mr. Death on that night.
+
+"He is dismissed from his employment, and he leaves the office, a
+disappointed and unhappy man; he relates to his wife all that passed
+between him and his employer, and subsequently informs her that he is
+going to Catchpole Square to make another appeal to his employer. I
+gather that the time of his arrival at the house would be about ten
+o'clock, at which hour we may assume that Mr. Samuel Boyd had not
+retired to rest. At about nine o'clock Lady Wharton left Mr. Samuel
+Boyd at the door of his house, and from that moment all is mystery. We
+know, however, that he must have had matters to attend to which would
+keep him up a couple of hours. Lady Wharton had deposited with him a
+number of valuable jewels, to which, when she was gone, he would
+naturally devote attention, appraising them, and probably taking a
+list of them. The dismissal of his clerk would most likely cause him
+to pay some attention to the state of the books and accounts, and the
+jewels had to be put in a place of safety.
+
+"All this would occupy him a couple of hours, and this brings us to
+eleven o'clock, when he would be ready to seek his bed. But before
+this hour Mr. Abel Death, according to the theory we are following
+out, has paid his visit, or rather, has made his attempt to see his
+employer. He knocks at the door, and in response to the summons Mr.
+Boyd goes down to see who is there. A man living alone in a house so
+safely removed from public observation would be scarcely likely to
+open his street door to casual visitors at ten o'clock at night, nor,
+the business of the day being over, would he neglect to put the chain
+on the street door. His probable course of action would be to go down,
+and, opening the door as far as the chain would allow, inquire who is
+there. He is answered by Mr. Death, who begs to be admitted to make
+his appeal; is refused; while standing in the square implores to be
+taken back; is listened to, laughed at, ordered to go away, and the
+door shut in his face.
+
+"I do not see how we can carry the matter farther as regards Mr.
+Death. To assume that he is admitted to the house, and that Mr. Boyd
+went to bed in his presence, is so wildly improbable that we may at
+once reject it. If anything can be said to be ridiculous in so awful a
+tragedy it would be to suppose that Mr. Boyd thus placed himself in
+the power and at the mercy of a man whom he knew to be embittered
+against him, and who was in a sense desperate. As to Mr. Abel Death's
+subsequent movements we are left in mystery. His wife suggests foul
+play. That a man left in the position to which my argument has carried
+him should deliberately conceal himself without a distinct motive is
+not to be thought of, and for this reason I consider the suggestion of
+foul play tenable. From whom, or from what quarter, who shall say? But
+we are not here to inquire into this matter; it is not the fate of Mr.
+Death we have to deliberate upon, and I advise you therefore to narrow
+the issue, which is sufficiently wide and perplexing, by setting him
+aside. There is nothing whatever to connect him with the crime beyond
+the merest conjectures, and were he alone concerned the only verdict
+that could be returned would be one of 'Murder by some person or
+persons unknown.'
+
+"We will now turn to another branch of the subject. In reply to a
+question I put to Mrs. Death she expressed her belief that her husband
+had no enemies: but a man carrying on such a business as Mr. Samuel
+Boyd transacted must have had many. However harsh it may sound, there
+is in my mind very little doubt that he must have inflicted great
+wrongs upon a number of persons. The tactics pursued by moneylenders
+of his class are so tricky and unscrupulous--they are so entirely
+oblivious of the claims of common humanity--that they must perforce
+breed animosity and resentment in the breasts of those whom they
+entrap. I am referring, understand, to that class of moneylenders
+whose nefarious practices have made them a danger to society, and I am
+happy to see that the strong arm of the law is being stretched forward
+to protect the unwary and unsuspecting victims who fall into their
+clutches. On the other hand, there are, of course, among such a man's
+customers some crafty borrowers who would trick the moneylender as he
+would trick them, men with doubtful reputations whose characters are
+no better than his own. It is for your consideration whether Mr.
+Samuel Boyd has fallen a victim to a cunningly laid plot on the part
+of a band of these men; the abstraction of the books and papers in
+which their names would appear favours this presumption. We have no
+evidence presented to us that affords a clue to the discovery of such
+a plot, but it will be as well not to lose sight of its probable
+existence.
+
+"Returning to my argument concerning Mr. Samuel Boyd's movements
+within his house on the night in question, we behold him still alone
+at about eleven o'clock, his office business finished, the visit of
+Mr. Abel Death disposed of, and he preparing for bed. And here Mr.
+Reginald Boyd comes into the picture.
+
+"We have heard from his lips his account of what took place during his
+interview with his father, and we have to accept or reject it. They
+were alone together, there were no witnesses, and we have only Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's word to go upon. You must not allow this to militate
+against him. In the circumstances of the case it is hardly possible
+that there could have been witnesses to corroborate the account he
+gave, and I have no hesitation in declaring that his bearing in the
+witness box bore the impress of truth. It has been objected to that in
+the course of this inquiry private domestic affairs have been dragged
+into the light which seemingly had no connection with it, but painful
+as this must have been to certain of the witnesses, it has established
+more than one point which, in the opinion of some of you, may be of
+importance--such, for instance, as the nature of the relations which
+existed between Mr. Samuel Boyd and his son, and the fact that the
+latter was in extremely straitened circumstances. I do not think that
+any blame is to be attached to the son for having renounced the name
+of Boyd two years ago, when the strained relations between him and his
+father led to his leaving, or being turned from, his home in Catchpole
+Square. It is not an instance without parallel; men have changed their
+names for motives less powerful than this. Mr. Reginald Boyd's bearing
+while giving his evidence here, was that of a high-spirited,
+independent young gentleman, who held in abhorrence the business
+tactics and practices of his father, and it is not unnatural, when the
+connection was severed, that he should resolve to be quit of a name
+which carried with it a disreputable stigma.
+
+"Nor was it unnatural that Mr. Reginald Boyd should have believed
+himself to have been tricked out of the fortune his mother left him,
+and that, being now a married man, anxious to provide a home for his
+wife, he should have made an effort to obtain restitution. In my
+reference to these matters I am not wandering from the issue, for what
+you have to consider is, not one incident, circumstance, or act, apart
+from the others, but all the incidents, circumstances, and acts in
+relation to each other. What in the former case may seem suspicious
+may, in the latter case, be robbed of its suspicious complexion.
+
+"And do not forget that there was not a single question put to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, whether pertinent to this inquiry or not, which he
+refused to answer. He evinced, indeed, an anxiety to disclose
+everything within his knowledge which cannot be regarded in any other
+than a praiseworthy light. He even went so far as to voluntarily
+mention small incidents leading to the asking of questions, his
+answers to which may be unfavourably construed. I observed him
+narrowly while these questions were being asked and answered. There
+was no confusion in his manner; he answered unhesitatingly and
+frankly. His demeanour was entirely that of a man who was giving his
+evidence with honest intention."
+
+"Interrupting you here, Mr. Coroner," said the Juror, "was not the
+evidence of Dr. Pye given in a manner which invited entire belief in
+his honesty and straightforwardness?"
+
+"I was coming to Dr. Pye," said the Coroner. "Yes, there was nothing
+in his conduct in the witness box that would warrant a belief that he
+was not speaking truthfully. It cannot be denied that the evidence he
+gave threw a startling suspicion on Mr. Reginald Boyd, and were it not
+for the evidence of Mrs. Abel Death which, in point of time, is in
+direct conflict with that of Dr. Pye, I should be addressing you in
+different terms, so far as Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned. Here we are
+confronted with a most singular discrepancy. Dr. Pye states that he
+saw a man issue from Mr. Samuel Boyd's house at three o'clock in the
+morning. Mrs. Abel Death states that she was in Catchpole Square from
+half past two till half past three on the same morning, and that
+during the whole of that time the door of Mr. Boyd's house was not
+opened. I do not see how these conflicting statements can be brought
+into reconcilement. The presumption that Mrs. Death may have been
+mistaken as to the time of her visit to, and her departure from,
+Catchpole Square is disposed of by her further statement that, while
+she was in Catchpole Square, she heard the hour of three struck from a
+neighbouring church clock. And we have evidence that the chimes of
+Saint Michael's Church can be heard in the Square."
+
+The Juror: "Might she not have been mistaken, Mr. Coroner? It may have
+struck two. If Mrs. Death reached Catchpole Square at half past one
+and remained till half past two, the discrepancy would vanish."
+
+The Coroner: "Just so; but it is not for us to alter the statements of
+witnesses in order to make them fit in with one another. We have to
+take the evidence as it is presented to us, and draw our conclusions
+from them. I asked Mrs. Death if she was certain that the church clock
+struck three, and she answered that she was, and that she counted the
+strokes. However, gentlemen, there is the discrepancy, and you must
+place your own construction upon it.
+
+"With respect to the night on which the murder was committed we may
+safely assume that it was Friday night. Mrs. Death's repeated knocking
+at the street door would surely have aroused the inmate had he been
+living. Mr. Boyd was in the habit of going out daily, but from that
+fatal Friday night he was not seen alive.
+
+"So much of the morbid interest attaching to this case has been
+centred upon Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Abel Death, that there is a
+danger of matters being overlooked which have an important bearing
+upon the inquiry. The disposal of the body in bed and the composing of
+the limbs after a violent life and death struggle had taken place, the
+orderly condition of the rooms after the confusion into which this
+violent struggle must have thrown their contents, direct our minds to
+a consideration of the kind of men responsible for the murder and the
+robbery. That so much trouble should have been taken to remove and
+obliterate all signs of the struggle, and to make it appear that a
+ruthlesss and brutal deed had not been committed, would seem to point
+to the probability that the men are not experienced members of the
+criminal classes; while the skill and cunning of the plot, and the
+cool and deliberate way in which it was carried out, denote that they
+are men of infinite resource and daring. I use the plural because I
+share the belief that the deed and all that followed it were not the
+work of one hand. A master mind there certainly must be, and I can
+conceive no greater danger to society than that such a man should be
+at large, watching this case and guarding against its consequences.
+
+"Undoubtedly the leading motive was robbery, but behind this leading
+motive were others as to the nature of which we have no clue. For what
+reason were the books of accounts and the private papers of the
+murdered man removed? Valueless in a commercial sense, why should the
+robbers have encumbered themselves with articles of considerable bulk,
+the carrying of which, by night or by day, would have drawn attention
+upon them? Some ulterior motive there must have been. The close and
+secret manner in which the deceased conducted his business, the
+circumstance that he admitted no man into his confidence, serve, in
+the present aspect of the case, as a stumbling block to justice. The
+criminals must have been familiar with the premises and with the
+habits of the deceased. They must have known where the key of the safe
+was kept, they must have known that it contained property of value. It
+is difficult to understand why a sum of money was left in the pockets
+of Mr. Boyd, but it is only one of many circumstances which it is
+difficult to understand.
+
+"And mark the hardihood, confidence, and patience with which the plot
+was carried to issues not included in the original plan of the crime.
+On Saturday morning Mr. Boyd lies dead in his bed, and the criminals,
+if not still in the house, have free access to it. I am following this
+out now because it is quite likely to have escaped you in the
+multitudinous incidents and circumstances of the mystery which it is
+necessary for you to bear in mind. On Monday Lady Wharton recollects
+that Mr. Boyd, when he received the fresh acceptances signed by Lord
+Wharton and endorsed by Lord Fairfax, omitted to hand back the old
+bills for which the new ones were given in exchange. She writes to Mr.
+Boyd, she being then in Bournemouth and he lying dead in London. In
+her letter she requests him to bring the old bills to Bournemouth, and
+also requests that the loan of £1,000 already arranged between them,
+for which she had deposited jewels as security, should be increased to
+£1,500, promising, for the additional £500, to hand him other jewels
+as security when they meet in Bournemouth. The letter written and
+posted, is left by the postman in the post box of Mr. Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square. And here we are brought face to face with the
+unparallelled audacity of the criminals. Having access to the house
+they obtain possession of the letter, and they conceive the idea of
+personating the dead man for the purpose of getting hold of these
+additional jewels. No illiterate, uneducated criminals these;
+past-masters in forgery as well as in murder, who shall say what
+undiscovered crimes may be laid at their door? I have no hesitation in
+declaring that no parallel exists in criminal records to the expedient
+they adopted and carried to a successful end. You have heard the
+astonishing story from Lady Wharton's own lips, you have heard it
+corroborated by her brother, Lord Fairfax. It is an extraordinary
+revelation, more like a chapter from the dark pages of romance than a
+chapter from real life. The closer the attention we devote to the
+many-sided aspects of this mystery, the longer we consider it and turn
+it this way and that in the endeavour to grasp a tangible clue, the
+more bewildering does it become. One moment suspicion rests upon one
+person, the next moment upon another, the next our suspicions fade
+away; while behind those whom we already know as being connected--and
+bear in mind, as likely as not innocently connected--with the awful
+tragedy lurk others whose identity up to the present moment is a
+sealed mystery.
+
+"It has been my desire to place the matter before you in as clear a
+light as possible, and I am fully sensible of the difficulty of your
+task. Justice demands that this mystery shall be cleared up, but be
+careful that you do not take a false step, for at the same time
+justice demands that you do injustice to no man because of some theory
+or prejudice you may have in your mind."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+                  LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.
+
+
+While her mother was being examined in the Coroner's Court, little
+Gracie Death, glowing with gratitude to Aunt Rob and her family, and
+solemnly impressed with a sense of the importance of the task she had
+undertaken, set out on the trail of Dr. Vinsen. She clearly understood
+that she was serving Dick's friends as well as Dick himself, but it
+was of Dick she thought most, and it was him she most ardently wished
+to serve. The attachments formed by children, and the ideals they
+create, are often stronger and more binding than those of men and
+women; and no stronger attachment was ever formed by a child, and no
+more lofty and beautiful an ideal created than those which reigned in
+Gracie's soul for Dick. Her heart throbbed with pride to think that
+the man she loved best in the world next to her father had taken her
+into partnership, and had entrusted her with a mission. There was no
+indication of this on her quiet, sallow face, or in her black eyes.
+When passion is demonstrative it is far less enduring than when it
+lies hidden in the soul.
+
+Gracie intended to fulfil the mission entrusted to her. Dick had said
+that between them they would make Scotland Yard sit up. Well, they
+would. Inspired not only by the kiss which he had given her for good
+luck, but by an absolute reliance upon herself, Gracie pondered upon
+her course of action. She must go somewhere. Where? She had no idea in
+which direction Dr. Vinsen lived, and she was not the kind of girl to
+flounder about without something to guide her. Once she set eyes upon
+him she would stick to him like a limpet to a rock till her purpose
+was achieved. She turned her face homeward; he might by chance be
+there.
+
+He was there. She heard his voice as she was ascending the stairs, and
+she paused to listen. He was asking the children for their mother, and
+a chorus of voices informed him that Mrs. Death had gone to the
+"inkage," which was the nearest approach the little ones could make to
+"inquest." Gracie thought it was a curious question for him to ask,
+because she had heard him and her mother speaking of Mrs. Death being
+a witness in the inquiry. She crept up a step to hear what further he
+had to say.
+
+"And Gracie," he said, "where's our little Gracie--our lit-tle
+Gra-cie? Has she gone to the 'inkage' too?" Who could doubt that it was
+out of mere playfulness he gave their pronunciation of the word?
+
+"Oh, no," answered the most forward of the children, "she can't get
+in, she can't. And mother didn't want her to."
+
+Other questions of no importance were asked and answered, and then the
+door of the room was opened, and Gracie saw Dr. Vinsen's legs on the
+landing. Down she slid, as noiselessly as a cat, out into the mews she
+sped, and from the recess of a neighbouring front door watched him
+issue from the house. He stopped and exchanged words with a woman whom
+Gracie knew, and with whom she was a great favourite; they were close
+to her hiding place, and Gracie heard what passed. He was very
+gracious, he smiled blandly, spoke in a smooth voice, and pushed his
+hat to the back of his head to wipe his brow, thereby affording a
+glimpse of his halo. To Gracie's surprise he was inquiring for her
+again, and the woman could not inform him where she was.
+
+"She's a busy little thing, sir," said the woman; "she runs in and out
+as if all the world and his wife was depending on her. We all like
+little Gracie Death."
+
+"I trust she is deserving of it," said Dr. Vinsen, with a number of
+amiable nods. "Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a
+thankless child."
+
+"If that's a dig into little Gracie," said the woman, with spirit,
+"it's what she don't deserve. Beggin' your pardon, sir, I won't have
+little Gracie run down."
+
+"One for him," thought Gracie, with a chuckle. "Give it him hot.
+You're a good sort, Mrs. Thomson."
+
+"Dear me, dear me!" said Dr. Vinson. "Run our little Gracie down--our
+lit-tle Gra-cie down! No, no, indeed! The sweetest child, the sweetest
+child!"
+
+"That she is, sir," said the woman, "and I beg your pardon again for
+speaking so hasty."
+
+"No offence, my good creature, no offence," said Dr. Vinsen; "where
+none is meant, none should be taken. Is this your little one?" A
+sturdy blue-eyed toddlekins was tugging at her apron strings, and he
+stooped and patted the curly head. "Here's a penny for lollypops. Good
+day--_good_ day!"
+
+He raised his hat, which caused the woman to stare, and strolled out
+of Draper's Mews. She gave a start when Gracie glided from behind the
+door.
+
+"I didn't want him to see me," said Gracie. "Thank you ever so much
+for sticking up for me."
+
+And she, also, strolled out of Draper's Mews, and followed Dr. Vinsen
+at a distance so carefully and warily, and apparently with so much
+unconcern, that no one would have suspected that she was engaged upon
+the most important task she had ever undertaken. "Now I've got you,"
+was her thought, "and I don't let you go." She kept her sharp eyes
+fixed upon him. When he stopped she stopped, when he lingered she
+lingered, when he walked slowly she walked slowly, when he quickened
+his steps she quickened hers. It appeared as if he were undecided as
+to the course he should pursue, for now and then he looked about him,
+and seemed to debate which way to turn. It was evident that he had no
+definite business to attend to, and no definite goal to reach. Passing
+a public house of a superior kind, he had gone a dozen yards beyond it
+when he turned back and entered the private bar. Grace made a rapid
+survey, to see how many doors there were by which he could leave. In
+point of fact, although of course it was a corner house, there was
+only one, but of this she was not aware, so she posted herself on the
+opposite corner and watched all the doors, and if there had been twice
+as many she would have had eyes for them all. He remained a long time
+in the private bar, and when he made his reappearance he was still as
+undecided as to his course. It may have been out of mere idleness that
+he entered a chemist's shop and purchased something, which he put into
+his pocket as he came out. In this aimless way he and Gracie strolled
+on through Park Street, Islington, at one part of which he crossed the
+road and looked up at the windows of a house. It was the house in
+which Reginald had lodged. Gracie noted the number, and would not
+forget it. So they strolled on, past the Grand Theatre, past Sadler's
+Wells, through Clerkenwell into Holborn, where he hailed a bus for
+Charing Cross, and got inside. "It's a good job Dick gave me some
+money," thought Gracie, as she scrambled to the top without being
+observed by the gentleman she had been following.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER L.
+
+                     EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.
+
+
+At Charing Cross Dr. Vinsen alighted, and Gracie descended from the
+roof in the manner generally adopted by females, with her back instead
+of her face to the horses, which is by far the more dangerous way of
+the two to climb down from an omnibus. But, Gracie being a girl of
+unusual sharpness and penetration, it may be that she got down that
+way for the purpose of keeping her eye upon Dr. Vinsen, and if this
+were so she was quite successful, for she did not lose sight of him
+for a single moment, despite the busy throng of people hurrying in all
+directions, and the bewildering entanglement of vehicles of every
+description, which render this part of London at mid-day one of the
+most marvellous demonstrations of the civilised life of a great city
+that can be met with all the world over.
+
+It was now one o'clock, and the newsboys were shouting out the early
+editions of the evening newspapers, for if there is one thing upon
+which modern journalism especially prides itself, it is that it can
+take time by the forelock and can hurry the rising and the setting of
+the sun. In these shouts and cries Dr. Vinsen--still lingering with
+the uncertain air upon him by which his previous movements had been
+distinguished--appeared to take great interest, listening to them
+intently and scanning such portions of the contents-bills carried by
+the boys as were visible in the midst of the hurly-burly. The familiar
+cry of "The Great Catchpole Square Mystery!" was as potent a bait as
+ever to purchasers, among whom Dr. Vinsen was not the least eager.
+Gracie saw on the contents-bills such headlines as "Emphatic Statement
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd," "The Coroner's Reproof to the Juryman," and
+"Mrs. Abel Death under examination," and she herself expended a
+halfpenny in literature, but did not stop to read the paper, her whole
+attention being required to watch her game and to elude detection.
+
+At the corner of Parliament Street Dr. Vinsen entered a bus that
+crossed Westminster Bridge. There was no room on the roof for Gracie,
+and she dared not get inside, so she ran along the pavement, her
+breath coming thick and fast; there was plenty of space in this wide
+thoroughfare for the vehicle to put on a spurt, and the horses
+galloped smartly on. Luckily for Gracie there was a stoppage at the
+top of Parliament Street to enable passengers to get in and out, and
+she could recover her breath; and when the omnibus started again the
+traffic on the bridge was crowded, so that she trotted along quite
+comfortably, and had no difficulty in keeping her game in view. At the
+end of the bridge Dr. Vinsen got out and sauntered on past St.
+George's Hospital and the shabby old site of Astley's Theatre, haunted
+by memories of Ducrow and Ada Menken--names strange to the rising
+generation, though once upon a time they made all London ring--and
+past a medley of mean shops, till, on the opposite side of the road,
+he called a halt before a warehouse where portmanteaus and travelling
+trunks were manufactured.
+
+Under a verandah in front of this warehouse were a number of trunks, a
+few of which bore on their lids the names or initials, newly painted
+in white, of the customers for whom they had been made. Two bore the
+same name, Signor Corsi, and it was these which had the greatest
+attraction for Dr. Vinsen. They were of large size and special make,
+far superior to the ordinary travelling trunk. Entering the warehouse,
+he came out presently accompanied by a man, either the proprietor or
+one of his salesmen, who opened one of the trunks and pointed out its
+exceptional features. It was of peculiar construction; the interior
+was padded, and there were receptacles lined with soft material, in
+which articles could be deposited with little fear of breakage. The
+interest which Dr. Vinsen took in the trunks and the long conversation
+between him and the salesman, whetted Gracie's curiosity, and she
+burned to know the why and the wherefore; but being compelled to keep
+at a safe distance, she could not hear a word that was spoken.
+Finally, Dr. Vinsen entered the warehouse again, and did not make his
+reappearance for twelve minutes by a clock in the shop near which she
+was lingering. He and the salesman stood chattering at the door for
+another minute or two, and it seemed to Gracie as if he had given an
+order, for he made an entry in his pocketbook; then he turned his face
+Kennington way and hailed a tramcar. Gracie scrambled up to the roof,
+where she opened her paper and read the report of the inquest up to
+the time of going to press. Folding the paper carefully, she put it in
+the bosom of her frock.
+
+Dr. Vinsen did not leave the tram till it had reached its terminus.
+This part of London was new to Gracie, and they were now some miles
+from Draper's Mews. "If he lives here," she thought, "it's a long way
+for him to come to us." That he did live there was proved by his
+stopping before a house of decent pretensions and opening the door
+with his own private latchkey. There was a little brass plate attached
+to the side of the door, and creeping past it Gracie read on it the
+name, "Ezra Lynn," and beneath it in smaller letters the announcement,
+"Sums of from £5 to £15,000 advanced at a low rate of interest on
+promissory note alone, without any sureties or security whatever, and
+without any beforehand charges. The strictest privacy and secrecy
+observed." Gracie's eyes dilated at the magnitude of the sum, £15,000,
+and for a moment her idea was that Dr. Vinsen had gone into the house
+to borrow that amount; the next moment she fell to speculating upon
+the strange circumstance that Dr. Vinsen should possess a private
+latchkey to such an Aladdin's Cave. "I wonder!" she said to herself.
+It was sufficiently expressive for her understanding, but it went no
+farther in speech.
+
+She felt hungry, it being now past three o'clock, and she went into a
+baker's shop nearly opposite the house of Ezra Lynn and asked for a
+penny loaf. Behind the counter was a motherly woman with a baby in her
+arms. She gazed kindly at Gracie, and passed the crummiest penny loaf
+in her stock across the counter.
+
+"You seem tired, child," she said, stopping in the middle of a little
+nursery song she was singing to her baby.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am," said Gracie, digging a piece out of the loaf and
+smiling at the baby. Gracie was fond of babies.
+
+"And hungry," said the woman.
+
+"Yes, I _am_ hungry."
+
+"Wouldn't you like a bun better?"
+
+"This is more filling," said practical Gracie.
+
+"Dear heart, what a sensible little mite! And how dusty! You don't
+look very strong."
+
+"Ah, but I am; you mustn't go by looks," said Gracie, and encouraged
+by the woman's kind voice, she asked if she could have a glass of
+water.
+
+"You shall have a glass of milk," said the woman, going to an inner
+room and returning with it.
+
+"It's good of you," said Gracie, simply, "I'm ever so much obliged to
+you. May I eat my loaf here?"
+
+"Certainly, child, and sit down and rest."
+
+The chair she pointed to had its back to the window from which Ezra
+Lynn's house was visible; Gracie turned it round, so that she faced
+it. There she sat awhile, munching her bread and drinking her milk. A
+man came into the shop, poorly dressed, haggard, with distress in his
+face, and yet with a certain defiant independence in his manner.
+
+"Will you trust me half-a-quartern, missis?" he said, abruptly.
+
+The woman shook her head. "You're deep enough in my books already, Mr.
+Mildew, and I can't afford to let you get deeper. Charity begins at
+home."
+
+"And stops there," said the man. "All right. I thought I'd try. My
+heart's fairly broke trying to get work. It doesn't much matter. The
+kiddies must starve!" He turned to leave the shop.
+
+This touched Gracie's heart. She knew what poverty was; she knew what
+it was to want bread. "The kiddies must starve" fell upon her like a
+blow.
+
+Of the money which Dick had given to her she had only spent twopence
+in fares and a halfpenny for a paper, and she had more than
+half-a-crown left. "The kiddies must starve!" Not if she could help it.
+The price of bread was marked up in the shop window, "Fivepence per
+quartern, full weight." She put twopence halfpenny on the counter.
+
+"Please let him have the bread, ma'am."
+
+The man stared at her; the woman's face flushed.
+
+"Take your money back, child," she said. "You shall have the bread,
+Mr. Mildew: it won't break me."
+
+She weighed the loaf, which was short of two pounds; it needed a piece
+for make-weight, and, the fount of kindness open, she was not
+particular to an ounce.
+
+"Thank you, missis," said the man, "I'll pay you the first money I
+earn, though God knows where I'm to get work. And thank _you_, little
+'un; you don't live on the fat of the land, from the looks of you.
+I've got a girl about your size and weight at home." He repeated the
+word with savage emphasis. "Home! There'll be none to-morrow. Rent
+owing, money owing. Out into the streets we go. That's the law."
+
+"It's got to be obeyed, Mr. Mildew," said the woman. "It's hard lines,
+I own, but it's got to be obeyed. What does Mr. Lynn say? Won't he
+give you time?"
+
+"Not an hour, not a minute. He's sucked me dry, and sucked the last
+drop out of me. Him give time!--with the law on his side! I'd like to
+grind my heel into his face!"
+
+"You're not the only one," said the woman.
+
+"That's no comfort. Look here, missis, just cast your eye over
+this"--he pulled out a tattered penny account book--"it's all set down
+in plain figures. Twelve months ago--here's the date--he lent me four
+pounds, and took a bill of sale on my bits of sticks. I didn't get the
+four pounds--it was eighteen shillings short, for expenses and
+inquiries and interest in advance. Three pound two, that's as much as
+I got, and I had to pay half-a-crown a week for fifty-two weeks. If I
+was a week behindhand there was a fine of sixpence, which kept on
+being charged and put down against me till that week was paid up. It
+was all a muddle, and I don't pretend to understand it, but a mate of
+mine that's quick at reckoning has figured it out, and he says it
+comes to more than six hundred per cent, interest. All I know is that
+I've paid five pound ten for that three pound two I got from him, and
+now he makes out I owe him twice as much again. And the law gives him
+right. What I say is, damn the law, and them that made it, and them
+that fatten on it!"
+
+It was pitiable to witness the passion and the helplessness of the
+man.
+
+Gracie, listening to this tale of wrong-doing, and never losing sight
+of Ezra Lynn's door, saw it opened, and saw a man come from the house,
+a thin, slinking, sly-faced man in rusty black, whom she supposed to
+be Ezra Lynn; but she was presently undeceived.
+
+"There's his jackal," said the man in the baker's shop, "that collects
+for him, and grinds the poor chaps down that's drawn into his mill.
+Grinds 'em down, blood, bones, heart, and soul. Mr. Lynn's too grand
+now to do the small dirty work himself. It was different once I've
+been told, missis."
+
+"Yes," said the woman, "I remember when Mr. Lynn first set up as a
+money-lender in the neighbourhood; they say he started with a hundred
+pounds, but a man like that, who wouldn't step aside to save a human
+creature's life, soon grows rich."
+
+"He's worse than the lowest pickpocket," said the man "I've heard he
+could set up his carriage, if he liked. He's got big fish to look
+after now; he leaves his jackal to look after the sprats."
+
+"I warned you, you know," said the woman, "when you told me you were
+getting a loan from him."
+
+"I know you did, but I had a child to bury, and I couldn't get the
+money anywhere else. Then my missis fell ill----"
+
+He broke off suddenly. "I've had my share of trouble, I think."
+
+"That you have, and I'm sorry for you. You're not the first by many a
+score that that man's ruined. And to talk to him you wouldn't believe
+that he'd pull a leg off a fly."
+
+"If it wasn't for the law," said the man, morosely, "I'd have his
+blood!"
+
+The door on the opposite side of the road opened again, and Dr. Vinsen
+appeared on the threshold, buttoning his glove; a look of hate and
+fear darkened the man's features.
+
+"You'd hardly believe there was so much wickedness under that smooth
+face of his," said the woman.
+
+"Smooth face, black heart," muttered the man, leaving the shop
+hurriedly, and crossing over to Dr. Vinsen.
+
+Gracie rose and made a step towards the door; she dared not leave the
+shop, for Dr. Vinsen stood immediately facing it. Her heart was
+beating violently, but her face was quite composed.
+
+"Who is that gentleman, ma'am?" she asked.
+
+"That's the man we've been speaking of," the woman replied, "Mr. Ezra
+Lynn. I don't call him a gentleman myself."
+
+"Would you mind telling me," continued Gracie, "if you know Dr.
+Vinsen?"
+
+"Vinsen--Vinsen," said the woman, considering. "I never heard the
+name. I don't think he lives in this neighbourhood. Bless my soul!
+What's the child after?"
+
+Gracie had dashed out of the shop. She had seen Mr. Mildew approach
+Dr. Vinsen and accost him; she had seen Dr. Vinsen smile and shake his
+head; she had seen the man raise his fist, as if he were about to
+strike, and then, afraid that his passion might carry him too far,
+turn quickly upon his heel and walk away; she had seen Dr. Vinsen hail
+a hansom cab and get into it; and it was then that she ran out of the
+shop. Off rattled the cab, and Gracie after it. A couple of hundred
+yards, and her breath was gone, and the cab out of sight.
+
+"It's a good job I didn't catch up to it," said Gracie, panting on the
+kerb. "He might have seen me, and all the fat would be in the fire.
+I've got something to tell Dick. We'll make Scotland Yard sit up. But
+what does it all mean--what does it all mean?"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LI.
+
+                            A DEAD LOCK.
+
+
+"The Little Busy Bee" and the other evening papers were kept very busy
+that afternoon. So far as the examination of the witnesses and the
+Coroner's address were concerned, the inquest was over, and it had
+been expected that the verdict would soon be delivered; but although
+the jury had been deliberating (some persons declared squabbling)
+since three o'clock, and it was now past five, no verdict was yet
+returned. It was rumoured that there was a serious difference of
+opinion between them on more than one point, and it was certain that
+they had obstinately refused to be guided by the Coroner, whose
+authority they set at naught. In vain did he argue, remonstrate, and
+expostulate with them; in vain did he draw up the form of verdict
+which he said it was their duty to deliver; they refused point blank
+to sign the paper.
+
+Animated discussions took place as to what the verdict would be, and
+so keen is the love of sport in the British mind that odds were laid
+on this or that conclusion. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd was first favourite; two to one on it. A verdict of Murder
+against some person or persons unknown was second favourite, six to
+four against it. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Abel Death, fifty to
+one against it. The names and the odds were freely bandied about, and
+there were many persons who discussed them with a light, not to say
+jovial, air; while Reginald and Florence, and Aunt and Uncle Rob
+awaited the result with feelings it is not difficult to imagine.
+Quick to take advantage of opportunity, the newspapers poured out
+edition after edition, seizing upon the most trivial incidents as
+headline-pegs upon which to hang their ingenious vapourings.
+
+"At half-past four," records "The Little Busy Bee," "the Coroner again
+asked the jury whether there was any special or knotty point upon
+which they needed information or direction. The foreman replied that
+they did not need direction in matters of fact, but that there was a
+difference of opinion among the jury, who held such strong views upon
+certain aspects of the case, that it was doubtful whether any definite
+verdict would be arrived at.
+
+"The Coroner: 'There must be a verdict of some kind. I presume there is
+no doubt in your minds that a murder has been committed?'
+
+"The Foreman: 'None whatever. We are agreed upon that.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'You know the common form. A verdict of Murder against
+some person or persons unknown would obviate the difficulty.'
+
+"The Juror: 'It would not. I have followed the case very carefully,
+and have come to a conclusion.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'You are open to reason, I hope.'
+
+"The Juror: 'As open as yourself, Mr. Coroner, and, strange as you may
+think it, I claim to possess an average intelligence. Throughout the
+whole of this inquiry it has been forced upon me that there has been
+far too much dictation.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'At whose hands, sir?'
+
+"The Juror: 'At yours, Mr. Coroner. You have treated us like a flock
+of sheep, and I, for one, object to be driven.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'I pass over the want of respect you show in your manner
+of addressing me. Gentlemen, in my long service as Coroner this is an
+entirely new experience, and I greatly regret it. In view of the
+serious differences of opinion between you, it is advisable that you
+take your law from me.'
+
+"The Juror: 'I shall not. I stand upon common sense.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'Gentlemen, this is foreign to the duty you are called
+upon to perform. Continue your deliberations, and arrive at your
+verdict as expeditiously as the interests of justice will allow.'
+
+"It would be obviously improper," said "The Little Busy Bee," "at this
+stage of the inquiry, to make any comments upon this very unusual
+scene. When the verdict is given we shall have something to say upon
+the rights and privileges of coroners and juries, which seem to be
+imperfectly understood."
+
+One of the most conspicuous headlines in the journals now was,
+"Deadlock among the Jury on the Catchpole Square Murder." It was weary
+waiting for the parties vitally interested in the result. Florence and
+Aunt Rob entreated Reginald to leave the Court, but he refused, and
+Uncle Rob upheld him. "Reginald must remain till it is over," he said.
+He suspected that Reginald would be followed by the police if he went
+away.
+
+Meanwhile, news of the rewards offered by Reginald for the discovery
+of the murderer and of Abel Death had become widely known, and was
+freely discussed. And upon the top of this came another piece of news.
+All over London billstickers were pasting offers of another reward
+offered by Lady Wharton's lawyers for the discovery of her jewels, of
+which a detailed list was printed in the bills. Advertisements were
+also inserted in the evening journals to the same effect. So the
+excitement was fed and kept up.
+
+Once, when Uncle Rob went from the court to get a little fresh air,
+Detective Lambert came up and spoke to him.
+
+"A long job," he said.
+
+"A wickedly long job," responded Uncle Rob.
+
+"I saw your nephew this morning," said Lambert, "sticking up the
+reward bills. He's the kind of chap that nothing comes amiss to; an
+all-round sort of chap; can turn his hand to anything. Just think of a
+young fellow like that turning bill-sticker. Not at all a bad move.
+It's a lumping reward, £500. Do you know what he said to me? 'Why not
+earn it?' says he, and says it as if he meant it."
+
+"He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it."
+
+"Will it be paid?"
+
+"If it's earned," replied Uncle Rob, "and I hope to God it soon will
+be!"
+
+"Ah," said Lambert, and gave his brother officer a covert, sidelong
+look. "See here, Robson. We had a private talk together, and I made
+you a promise."
+
+"Yes, you did," said Uncle Rob, and accustomed as he ought to have
+been, as an inspector of police, to strange surprises, there was a
+flutter at his heart. But then it was a beloved daughter's happiness
+that was at stake.
+
+"I promised to give you timely notice," continued Lambert, "when
+something was going to happen."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I never go from my word. Something _is_ going to happen. I'm only
+waiting here till the verdict's given, and then----"
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Your son-in-law's in Court, facing it like a man," said Lambert,
+branching off, "and I admire him for it. Supposing the verdict runs,
+'some person or persons unknown,' he'll be coming out with the ladies
+on his way home when the sheet's signed."
+
+"Yes, he will; and if it runs the other way?"
+
+"Meaning if it's brought against him by name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, of course he'll be prepared."
+
+"He's prepared for anything, Lambert; he's made up his mind to it: so
+have we all." Uncle Rob spoke in a sad tone; these two men perfectly
+understood each other, though the meaning of what they said would not
+have been clear to a stranger.
+
+"Step aside, Robson," said Lambert, and his voice was friendly, "and
+let us talk as if it was the weather we were interested in. Cloudy
+to-day, fine to-morrow; there's no telling what changes to expect in
+such a blessed climate as ours. So it is with human nature; up to-day,
+down to-morrow, and the other way round. All's well that ends well,
+eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Rob, mechanically.
+
+"Prepared for anything he is," Lambert went on. "I call that sensible
+and manly; but he's been that all through. So what I say is, to save a
+scene, wouldn't it be a good thing to get your wife and daughter out
+of the way?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, by letting them go home by themselves. When two women are
+together like that, with trouble ahead, they're a comfort to each
+other. They must be tired out of their lives sitting in that stuffy
+court all day. A pair of bricks I call them; I should be proud, I
+should indeed, Robson, if they were my wife and daughter. Proud you
+must be of them--in a melancholy way, as things are, but that's
+natural under the circumstances. Wheedle them home, Robson, and let us
+get the business over quietly."
+
+Uncle Rob knew what was meant by "the business." "It's decided upon,
+then," he said.
+
+"Yes, and I've got the warrant in my pocket."
+
+"Whatever the verdict is?"
+
+"Whatever the verdict is."
+
+"Is there anything against him," asked Uncle Rob, with a sinking
+heart, "beyond what has come out in the inquest?"
+
+"Nothing; but that is supposed to be enough to commence with. Get the
+ladies away quietly, just whisper a word to him, and we'll walk along
+as comfortably as possible, and no one the wiser. I've kept it snug on
+purpose for your sake."
+
+"It's kind of you, but there's no getting the women away; they'll not
+make a scene," said Uncle Rob, huskily; he was thinking of Florence.
+"We've talked it over among ourselves, and I think it would alter your
+opinion if you could have heard my son-in-law this morning."
+
+"How do you know what my opinion is?" asked Lambert, in his most
+leisurely manner.
+
+"I _don't_ know. We couldn't help seeing the way the case was going,
+and if it could be done in a lawful and legal way, Reginald would not
+wait to be brought before a judge. He would go himself and say, 'What
+have you got against me? Here I am, ready to answer it.'"
+
+"But it can't be done that way. There's a settled form to go through,
+and we must abide by it. Well, I've given my advice, and it's a pity
+the ladies should be present, but if you say it can't be helped, well,
+it can't be, and there's an end of it. What do you think about giving
+them a hint beforehand. It'll break the shock."
+
+"Yes, I might do that," said Uncle Rob.
+
+He looked up into Lambert's face; he could do that, being the shorter
+man by two inches. He was well acquainted with Lambert's character,
+and knew that he was kindly disposed towards him, but there was so
+much more consideration evinced for his feelings than he could
+reasonably have expected that it seemed to him as if Lambert was
+keeping something in the background. Lambert returned his gaze
+steadily and impenetrably, and passed his hand over his chin with more
+than his customary thoughtfulness, but there was nothing in that
+action to enlighten Uncle Rob as to what was passing in his mind.
+Still he was emboldened to say,
+
+"Speaking as we are in confidence, is there anything behind this,
+Lambert, that would bring hope and comfort to my wife and daughter?"
+
+Lambert's hand travelled from his chin to his under lip, which he
+softly pinched as caressingly as if he were smoothing a favourite cat.
+
+"Why shouldn't she hope?" he said. "What's going to be done is only
+what might be expected. If her husband wasn't prepared for it of
+course it would be different, but as it is----" He seemed to think the
+uncompleted sentence sufficiently expressive, for he did not finish
+it.
+
+"You'll wait till the verdict's given?" said Uncle Rob.
+
+"I'll wait a reasonable time; I can't say more than that, because I
+shouldn't be surprised--and don't you be--if something happens that I
+can't call to mind has ever happened before in a murder inquest, and
+that is, that the jury will either give no verdict at all, or will
+give one that the Coroner will refuse to accept. There's a man among
+them who's bent upon having his own way, and that will stick out like
+grim death if he can't bring the others to his way of thinking. He's a
+kind of animal not often met with on juries, but there he is, and has
+to be reckoned with. A curious point, isn't it? But you can make up
+your mind to one thing. So far as justice is concerned there will be
+no dead lock. I've got hold of the reins, and I'll see to that."
+
+Uncle Rob searched his mind for a clue, and did not find it. Lambert's
+voice was resolute and stern, and he was about to arrest a man to save
+whose life Uncle Rob would have laid down his own; and yet here he was
+unbosoming himself in a friendly and confiding way to the very person
+against whose happiness he was conspiring. It would have taken a wiser
+head than Uncle Rob's to solve the enigma. What Lambert said next did
+not help to make matters clearer.
+
+"And don't take it too much to heart," he said, with a soothing pat on
+Uncle Rob's shoulder. "I know what I'm about, so don't take it too
+much to heart. It's the advice of a friend, Robson."
+
+"There's cold comfort in it when the charge is murder, and a man's
+life is hanging to it," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"Perhaps so, perhaps so, if you look at it only from the outside; but
+there's another view."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"That's _my_ secret. When I let it out you'll see what I'm driving at.
+I've done one or two things in my time, and this will be the climax."
+He smacked his lips with a relish, and repeated, "The climax. I put it
+to you, Robson, old man, whether it isn't better that the arrest
+should be made by a friendly hand than by the hand of a stranger? I'm
+not the only one who's itching to get the credit of clearing up a
+mystery that's set all London ringing; and we're not half done with it
+yet, not half done. It's a feather in one's cap to be mixed up with
+it." He rubbed his hands. "No wonder others are keen upon it, but
+there's only one man in England that's got his finger on the pulse of
+the mystery, and that's the man that's talking to you now, and taking
+you, in a manner of speaking, into his confidence."
+
+"And that is why you are going to arrest my son-in-law," said Uncle
+Rob, rather bitterly.
+
+"And that is why," said Lambert, cheerfully, "I am going to arrest
+your son-in-law on the charge of murdering his father, Mr. Samuel
+Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Before long you'll be shaking me by the
+hand, and thanking me for what I'm doing."
+
+"Then you don't believe him guilty?" said Uncle Rob, eagerly.
+
+"Don't ask me for opinions. I've been open with you for old times'
+sake, but my opinions, for the present, I keep to myself." He looked
+at his watch. "What time are you due at the station, Robson."
+
+"I must be there within the hour. I wish I'd resigned, or asked to be
+suspended."
+
+"The worst move you could have made. Duty's duty. There was a Roman
+father once--I don't remember his name--that sent his own son to
+execution, and looked on while it was done."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Uncle Rob. His voice trembled, his fingers
+twined convulsively.
+
+"It's plain enough," said Lambert, half roughly. "You're on night duty
+at Bishop Street Station."
+
+"And the charge will be laid there!" cried Uncle Rob, a cold
+perspiration breaking out on his forehead.
+
+"It's in the district; it's the nearest station. There's no help for
+it; I wish there was."
+
+"They'll never forgive me, never!" said Uncle Rob. "My own child,
+Lambert, my own child! To strike a death blow at my own child!"
+
+"Who's talking of death blows? Pull yourself together. It's better so;
+you can make things easier for him. As for forgiveness, they're not
+the women I take them for if they harbour a thought against you.
+They're true grit, that's what they are."
+
+"There's something going on in Court."
+
+They hurried in together, and were present at another altercation
+between Coroner and jury, the leading actors in it being, as before,
+the Coroner and the recalcitrant juror. From the flushed faces of the
+jurymen it was evident that there had been a heated discussion.
+Finally the Coroner proposed to take the verdict of the majority, and
+another difficulty presented itself.
+
+"There's no majority," said the foreman, who appeared to be the most
+helpless of the party. "As a matter of fact we are split into three
+camps of equal numbers, and no one will give way."
+
+"Is there no possibility of your agreeing?" inquired the Coroner.
+
+"If we were locked up for a week," replied the foreman, "I don't
+believe we should agree."
+
+"Well," said the Coroner, with a motion as if he were giving up the
+thing in despair, "let me know in plain terms how the matter stands,
+and I will see what can be done."
+
+"We will put it down in writing," said the foreman.
+
+Thereupon the jury retired, and after a lapse of twenty minutes or so
+returned with three documents, which were handed to the Coroner. They
+revealed an extraordinary state of affairs.
+
+The first, signed by four jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful Murder
+against some person or persons unknown.
+
+The second, signed by four other jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful
+Murder against Abel Death.
+
+When this was read out a shriek rang through the court, and Mrs.
+Death, starting to her feet, screamed in wild tones,
+
+"You wicked liars! You liars! You wicked liars!"
+
+With great difficulty she was silenced, and restrained from rushing to
+the spot where the jurymen were clustered together.
+
+The third document, signed by other four jurymen, was a verdict of
+Wilful Murder against Reginald Boyd.
+
+"Do you present these to me in all seriousness?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"They are the conclusions arrived at by the jury," replied the Juror.
+"With eight of my colleagues I do not agree, but for all that I have
+not hectored them."
+
+"Your conduct during this inquiry is open to severe censure," said the
+Coroner, "and you strangely misapprehend your duty. Gentlemen, you
+have presented me with three separate verdicts, which you must have
+known I cannot accept. The dissensions which have arisen amongst you
+are deeply regrettable, and I tell you plainly you have not served the
+cause of justice. I have placed before you a form of verdict which
+would meet the general view of the case, and leave the matter open to
+the proper authorities. You have declined to be guided by me, and I am
+afraid it would be useless to argue any longer with you. What do you
+say, Mr. Foreman?"
+
+"From the differences that exist between us, sir, quite useless,"
+replied the foreman.
+
+"The position is a difficult one, and I must take time to consider it.
+I regret, gentlemen, that I cannot discharge you from your labours,
+but that is no fault of mine. You will attend this court next Thursday
+morning at eleven o'clock. By that time, perhaps, something may
+transpire which will settle your doubts--which I trust," he added,
+"are conscientious doubts."
+
+The announcement that their labours were not at an end was received by
+the jury with murmurs of dissatisfaction.
+
+"The remedy lies with yourselves," said the Coroner. "In a criminal
+court where the jury disagree, the case may be put back and tried
+again before a fresh jury, but this cannot be done in a Coroner's
+Court. Before I finally discharge you, you will have to return a
+verdict. You will be here this day week punctually at eleven o'clock
+in the morning."
+
+The court then broke up.
+
+There were still a great many spectators who had waited in the
+expectation that a verdict would be delivered, and they filed out
+slowly, eagerly discussing the position of affairs, one man declaring
+that the Catchpole Square Mystery, from first to last, was nothing but
+a series of the most startling sensations, adding, "And I'm greatly
+mistaken if there's not more to come." He rolled this round his
+tongue, as if it were a delectable morsel. Detective Lambert, without
+seeming to notice Reginald, was almost the first to leave the court,
+and he stood outside, smoothing his chin, a target for all eyes, for
+his fame had travelled far and wide, and it was already rumoured that
+he had "taken up" the Catchpole Square Mystery. Two or three of the
+jurymen still lingered within the court, and glanced with curiosity at
+the Robson group and at Mrs. Death, whose state of agitation it was
+pitiable to witness. Now she beat the air with her trembling hands,
+now she clasped them convulsively, while inarticulate words of protest
+dropped from her quivering lips. All these persons moved slowly to the
+door of the courthouse.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LII.
+
+                         ARRESTED FOR MURDER.
+
+
+"A moment, Reginald," said Uncle Rob, in a low tone, laying his hand
+on the young man's arm.
+
+As the men fell back a pace or two they came face to face with Mrs.
+Death. In his heart Reginald believed Abel Death to be innocent, and
+even in the midst of his own trouble he would have addressed a word of
+comfort to her, but she, distracted by grief and indignant horror,
+held up her hands as if to ward him off, and brushed past him into the
+open. She had been present during the whole of the inquest, but her
+mind was in too agitated a state to pay close attention to any of the
+evidence except those parts which affected her husband, and she had
+therefore, until she heard the Coroner's address to the jury, missed
+the significance of the contradiction she had given to the statement
+of Dr. Pye as to the hour he had seen a man come from Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square. In justice to her it must be said that even
+if she had recognised it when she was under examination she would not
+have withheld it, for she was a fair-minded woman, and was still
+grateful for the kindness the young man had once shown them. But it
+seemed to her now that in weakening the case against Reginald she had
+strengthened it against her husband, and it was this that caused her
+to reject with horror the advances which Reginald had made towards
+her.
+
+"She believes me guilty," thought Reginald, as she disappeared through
+the door of the court; and then, turning to Uncle Rob, he said, "What
+is it?"
+
+"Detective Lambert is waiting outside," said Uncle Rob in a low tone.
+
+"For me?"
+
+"For you."
+
+Reginald could not help being startled, though he had been all day
+inwardly preparing himself. Stepping to Aunt Rob's side he said, in a
+tone of assumed lightness, "We are full of secrets just now. I have
+one for you; Florence won't mind." Drawing her away he whispered,
+"Take Florence home."
+
+He had not time to say more, for Florence, although she had not heard
+what had passed had caught its sense, and she now glided swiftly to
+his side, and clung close to his arm.
+
+"Go home, dearest," he said. "I am going to walk with your father to
+the station."
+
+"We will walk with you," said Florence, and then in an imploring tone,
+"Do not send me away from you till the last moment!"
+
+"Why, Florence, my love," said Reginald, as if in surprise, but here
+Aunt Rob interposed.
+
+"There must be no more secrets. Don't keep anything from us, father.
+Tell us the worst; we can bear it."
+
+Uncle Rob looked at Reginald, who nodded, and passed his arm round
+Florence's waist.
+
+"Lambert has been talking to me," said Uncle Rob; "he has behaved very
+considerately, and asked me to break it to you." His voice faltered.
+"He has a warrant for Reginald's arrest. Courage, my dears, courage!"
+
+This little party, at whom so terrible a blow was dealt, now stood
+apart and alone, and what they said could be heard only by themselves.
+Aunt Rob drew a long breath.
+
+"It's what we've been waiting for," she said, "and it had to come.
+Reginald will face it like a man, and will fling the lie into their
+faces. Keep a stout heart, my lad."
+
+"If I suffer," he replied, "it is because of the grief I have brought
+into my dear Florence's life."
+
+"It is not a grief of your creating, dear," said Florence, "and you
+have brought nothing into my life which has not strengthened my love
+for you. I put my trust in God." She bent down, and pressed her lips
+upon his hand; the night had fallen, and those at a distance could not
+see the action. "Oh, my dear, my dear! He will not allow the innocent
+to suffer."
+
+"Be brave, for my sake, dearest."
+
+"I will be. I am." And in her heart was the prayer, "God shield my
+beloved! God protect him!"
+
+They issued into the open air, and stood by Lambert's side in silence.
+The only movement he made was to beckon to a constable, and,
+whispering a few words to him, to point somewhat conspicuously to the
+juror who had shown himself so inimical to Reginald. All the other
+jurymen had taken their departure; this man alone was waiting.
+
+If Lambert's aim was to arouse in him the aggressive spirit of which
+he had given frequent instances during the inquest, it was gained, for
+the juror walked up to the detective, and inquired if he had pointed
+at him with any particular design, and if so, what it was and what he
+meant by it. Lambert stroked his chin and did not answer.
+
+"The road's free to all, I suppose," pursued the man, nettled at
+Lambert's silence; his voice was loud and offensive.
+
+"Now you mention it," observed Lambert, slowly considering the
+proposition, "it is."
+
+"I thought so," said the man, and was at a loss what next to say, for
+Lambert had fallen into a meditative mood, and to feel for a pimple on
+his chin seemed to be of assistance to him.
+
+The appearance of another person upon the scene, who halted, however,
+at a distance of a dozen yards or so, with her black eyes fixed upon
+the juror, was not noticed by any of them, except perhaps by the
+meditative detective.
+
+"Move on," said the constable whom Lambert had addressed, and some
+idlers, who had shown a disposition to linger, sauntered away. The
+juror held his ground, but was not at his ease, for he felt that
+Lambert's eye was on him, and to be thus meditatively observed by an
+imperturbable detective was enough to make any man uneasy. Presently
+Lambert roused himself from his brown study.
+
+"Which direction are you going to take?" he said to the Juror.
+
+"Why do you want to know?" asked the man.
+
+"Because I will take the other, and I've a hundred things to attend
+to."
+
+"Who's hindering you?"
+
+"You, Mr. Rawdon. That's your name, I believe."
+
+"I'm not ashamed of it," said Mr. Rawdon, with a slight start.
+
+"Why should you be?" remarked Lambert quietly. "It's the name you were
+born to. I'm not ashamed of mine; to tell you the truth, I'm rather
+proud of it. What we've got to do with our names, whether we like 'em
+or not, is to make 'em a credit to ourselves and our families. And
+we're born, not only to names that stick to us, but to tempers that
+stick to us. Now, when I see a man showing a nasty temper, I cast
+about in my mind for something that will soothe his ruffled feelings.
+That's what I've been thinking about. 'What can I do,' says I to
+myself, 'that will soothe Mr. Rawdon's ruffled feelings?' And it's
+come over me to put it in the shape of a question, if you've no
+objection."
+
+"Let's hear what it is," said Mr. Rawdon, upon whom the detective's
+words did not seem to have a soothing effect.
+
+"It's a question," continued Lambert, "that I wouldn't put to you
+publicly if it wasn't that we're playing a sort of game, you and me, a
+sort of trying to tire one another out, because, you know, Mr. Rawdon,
+there's many a thing in a man's life he'd prefer to keep to himself.
+As for tiring me out, you couldn't do it, Mr. Rawdon. It's well known
+that Detective Lambert is the most patient man in the whole police
+force, and it's well known, too, that he never mixes himself up with
+other people's private affairs unless he has the best of reasons for
+it."
+
+"Aren't you losing sight of your question?" asked Mr. Rawdon sullenly.
+
+"No, I'm not; I'm coming to it; but I'm naturally a slow man--slow
+_and_ sure. It's happened on occasions that I've been a long time
+taking aim; but then I never miss; and I never do anything
+definite--anything definite, mind--or say anything definite (which is
+what I'm going to say now), without a motive. Now, _do_ you understand
+that?" No voice could be more persuasive than that in which he
+explained himself to Mr. Rawdon.
+
+"Oh, I understand it," said that individual.
+
+"And so could a blind dog, if it was put to him forcible. It eases my
+mind; I give you my word, it eases my mind. Pay particular attention
+to the question, Mr. Rawdon: there's a lot hanging to it that the
+present company--my friend Inspector Robson and his good wife, and my
+friend Mr. Reginald Boyd and _his_ good wife--haven't the slightest
+understanding of. Which makes it all the more comfortable for you and
+me, because it's between us. Are you ready, Mr. Rawdon?"
+
+"Quite ready, Mr. Lambert."
+
+"Well, then. What is the amount of the judgment obtained against you
+by Mr. Ezra Lynn, how much do you owe him altogether, and what
+arrangement has lately been made between you? And if that's three
+questions instead of one I hope you'll excuse me."
+
+So saying, Detective Lambert rubbed his chin, and shed a genial smile
+upon Mr. Rawdon, whose perturbation was so great that he seemed to be
+deprived of the power of speech.
+
+"If you want time to chew it over," continued Lambert, "take time.
+There's been many a knotty point raised in this inquiry into the
+Catchpole Square Mystery; one or two more or less won't matter much.
+Take your time, Mr. Rawdon, take your time. Go home and chew it over."
+
+In obedience to a motion of his eyebrows imperceptible to all but the
+constable, that official bustled forward with his "Move on, please,
+move on"; and as though he were glad of an excuse to set his limbs in
+motion Mr. Rawdon moved slowly away, in the opposite direction to the
+Bishop Street Police Station. The other person, little Gracie, who had
+been watching the group, moved stealthily after him, and in a moment
+or two the man and the girl had turned the corner of the street.
+
+Lambert smiled in self-approval, and the next moment became grave as
+he touched Reginald on the arm. "Now, Mr. Boyd."
+
+Florence quivered as though she had been stung, but instantly
+recovered herself.
+
+"I am at your disposal, Mr. Lambert," said Reginald. "You have a
+warrant for my arrest."
+
+"I have; and I'll read it to you at the Bishop Street Police Station.
+I would take you to another, but as I've already explained to the
+Inspector it is the proper station to take you to, as the charge will
+have to be heard at the Bishop Street Police Court."
+
+"Will it be heard to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow. It will be merely formal, and there'll be a remand, for a
+week I should say. That is what will be asked for. I am acting under
+instructions." He turned to Florence and Aunt Rob. "I hope you'll not
+take it amiss, ladies. Duty's duty, and it's hard to do sometimes. Mr.
+Boyd and I will walk quietly to the station with Inspector Robson.
+I'll keep people off while you say good-bye." He turned his back to
+them, from motives of delicacy, and to serve as a screen.
+
+"Would there be any objection, Mr. Lambert," said Aunt Rob, "to our
+walking with him as far as the station?" She spoke stiffly and
+severely: despite the manifest friendliness of the detective she could
+not forgive him.
+
+"None in the world, if you wish it."
+
+"We do wish it," said Florence, timidly.
+
+"Give an arm to the ladies," said Lambert to Reginald. "The Inspector
+and I will walk on behind. You would hardly believe it, but at this
+time every Thursday night I get a singing in my ears that makes me
+quite deaf. An old complaint; had it from childhood; it comes on
+suddenly; I've got it now."
+
+He fell back with Uncle Rob, and no person meeting them would have
+supposed that a man was being arrested for murder. Within two or three
+hundred yards of Bishop Street Dick ran up to them, and he saw
+immediately what was transpiring.
+
+"You have come in good time, Dick," said Reginald, pressing the
+friendly hand. "Florence and Aunt Rob have no one to take them home.
+You see what is going on." Dick nodded. "Now that the suspense is over
+I feel relieved. I have something to face, and I can speak out
+boldly."
+
+"He must have a lawyer, Dick," said Aunt Rob.
+
+"It is being attended to, aunt."
+
+"I would have preferred to defend myself," said Reginald, "but I
+suppose it would be unwise."
+
+"It would be folly," said Dick. "I saw your solicitor this afternoon,
+and we have agreed upon the barrister, Mr. Edward Pallaret. He ranks
+high, and is generally on the right side."
+
+"On the just side, Dick."
+
+"That is what I meant, aunt."
+
+"Did you expect this, that you have gone so far?" she asked.
+
+"I have been expecting it all along. Is Lambert acting on his own
+responsibility?"
+
+"No, under instructions, he says."
+
+"Ah. Do you approve of Mr. Pallaret, Reginald?"
+
+"Yes. He is an honourable man."
+
+"He is; and a man that judges and magistrates listen to with respect.
+That is not the case with all lawyers. There are black sheep among
+them that damn a case the moment their names appear in it. I have a
+pair of solicitors in my mind now, a couple of sharp, sneaking
+scoundrels who never yet have had the handling of a reputable case.
+Mr. Lamb is not a very eminent solicitor, but he is a respectable man,
+and it was he who suggested Mr. Pallaret. Don't be faint-hearted,
+Reginald; we'll pull you out of this with flying colours. Have any of
+you seen little Gracie Death to-day?"
+
+No, none of them had seen her.
+
+"She'll be at your house to-night, aunt, with news, perhaps. Here we
+are at the station."
+
+He made a secret motion to his uncle as they entered, and saying to
+the others that they would join them presently, he and the Inspector
+retired to a small room at the back of the office, where the latter
+kept his accoutrements, which he now proceeded to put on for the sad
+duties of the night.
+
+"Do you remember the talk we had together, Dick," said the Inspector
+mournfully, "on the night of the fog, when Mrs. Abel Death came in
+with her little girl, and told us of the disappearance of her husband.
+We argued it out together, and the thought of a murder done was in our
+minds. It's little more than a week ago, and it seems a year. We
+didn't think it would come to this."
+
+To Dick, also, it seemed as if months had passed instead of days, and
+as if he himself were a different being. Aimless, purposeless, then,
+with no object in life to lift him out of the lethargic state into
+which he had fallen, the hours now were all too short for the strange
+and desperate task to which he had set his hand, the strangest and
+most hazardous part of which had yet to be performed.
+
+"Lambert speaks fair," continued the Inspector, "but you are the rock
+upon which we must lean for safety. Oh, Dick, my lad, save my Florence
+if you can from life-long misery!"
+
+"I'm bound to do it, uncle," said Dick, "or sink. Something whispers
+to me that I shall succeed. And now let me tell you--I may not have
+another opportunity. I'm going to see Florence and Aunt Rob home,
+where I've asked little Gracie to come and have a chat with me. After
+to-night it's on the cards that I shall disappear----"
+
+"Disappear!" cried the Inspector, catching his nephew by the arm.
+
+"Hush! They must not hear us. I mean that neither you nor they will
+know where I am for a few days. There will be a notice stuck up on the
+house in Catchpole Square to the effect that all inquiries for me are
+to be made at your house, and that all letters for me are to be left
+there. If any inquiries are made, tell Aunt Rob and Florence that
+they're to say they are expecting me home at any moment, and don't
+know where I have gone to. Nothing more than that. I must leave this
+to you, for I cannot confide in them. I am bound to keep my secret,
+and I could not answer the questions they would put to me in their
+anxiety."
+
+"But, Dick----"
+
+Dick held up his hand. "There isn't a step I've taken in this affair
+that hasn't been taken with only one end in view, the end we are all
+praying for, and perhaps there are things I've kept from you because
+it would never have done to tell them to a police inspector. There was
+your duty as a public officer, and there were your feelings as a
+father. Would it have been right of me to bring these into conflict?"
+
+"I see that, my lad, I see that, and it has been a torture to me."
+
+"Look me in the face, uncle." He moved into the light, so that it
+could be clearly seen. "Is it an honest face?"
+
+"Yes, my lad."
+
+"A face you can trust?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then trust it, and act as I desire. You ask me to save Florence from
+misery, and, with God's help and my own wits, that's what I feel I
+_shall_ do if I'm left free to follow out my plans. If I am hampered
+in any way Reginald will lose his best defender. I've been in danger
+once to-day, and my wits saved me. We must get back to them, or
+they'll be suspecting something. If you are satisfied with what I've
+said, uncle, give me your hand."
+
+They clasped hands, and returned to the front office. Inspector Robson
+stiffened himself, and walked to his desk. Then Lambert, who held the
+warrant in his hand, read it aloud, but in a low tone, and advised
+Reginald to say nothing.
+
+"I am not afraid to speak," Reginald answered, with a proud, defiant
+look. "Until my innocence is proved I will proclaim it to all the
+world."
+
+"Well said, my son," said Aunt Rob.
+
+Inspector Robson did not utter a word, but with a set face entered the
+charge. Then Detective Lambert bade the Inspector good night, and
+passed out of the scene. He offered no good-bye greeting to the
+others, and seemingly took no notice of Aunt Rob's action when she
+held her skirts aside, so that he should not touch them. It was not in
+her heart to forgive him for the part he had played.
+
+When all the formalities were concluded Florence and Reginald, clasped
+in each other's arms, exchanged tender words of comfort and hope.
+
+"God bless you, my beloved husband," said the girl-wife. "He will make
+your innocence clear."
+
+"I have no fears," said Reginald. "God preserve you?"
+
+"Good night, my son," said Aunt Rob.
+
+There was not a tear in their eyes; each strove by outward calmness to
+sustain the other in this bitter trial. Inspector Robson never raised
+his eyes from the charge sheet.
+
+"Take care of her, Dick," said Reginald.
+
+"Trust to me, Reginald," said Dick, with a bright smile.
+
+So they left him, and proceeded through the dimly lighted streets to
+Aunt Rob's house, and there they found Gracie waiting outside for
+Dick.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LIII.
+
+             GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.
+
+
+"Any news, Gracie," asked Dick.
+
+"Lots," replied Gracie.
+
+"About which one?"
+
+"Both of 'em."
+
+Aunt Rob, with an air of determination, seized Gracie's hand. "Come
+in, child, and tell us all about it," she said.
+
+Gracie made no resistance, but looked at Dick for instructions.
+
+"The fact is, aunt," he said, "Gracie and I have started on a voyage
+of discovery, and this is a little matter of business between us."
+
+"The fact is," said Aunt Rob, sternly, "that there's been too many
+little matters of business between this one and that one, and too many
+secrets that are kept from them who have the best call to know them,
+and whose hearts are pretty nigh broken by being kept in the dark.
+It's time it came to an end. What do you mean by your voyage of
+discovery? Perhaps you think, because we're quiet and still, and don't
+break into fits of crying, that we're happy and contented with things
+as they are. We look like it, don't we?"
+
+"Dear aunt," he expostulated, but was not allowed to proceed.
+
+"No, Dick, I'll not listen to your evasions, and I'm not going to
+stand this any longer. What is it all about, and what does everybody
+mean by holding conversations behind our backs, and saying things we
+mustn't hear, while we're expected to sit mum-chance on our chairs,
+eating our hearts away? Because we're women, I suppose, and aren't fit
+to be trusted! Mystery, mystery, mystery, nothing but mystery, and
+we're to hold our tongues. I wouldn't have believed it of you, Dick.
+Do you mean to tell me that this little matter of business, and this
+voyage of discovery, as you call it, doesn't concern us?"
+
+"It does concern you, but I give you my word, aunt, I don't know yet
+in what way."
+
+"Let us help you. As it concerns us, you've no right to keep it from
+us. Now, child, tell us your news."
+
+Gracie shook her head, and still looked at Dick for her cue.
+
+"You little brick!" he said, patting her sallow cheek. "Aunt, if you
+were to beat her black and blue I don't believe she would say one word
+without my permission.
+
+"I wouldn't," said Gracie.
+
+"That's a nice thing to say to me," said Aunt Rob, sarcastically. "I'm
+in the habit of beating children black and blue--everybody who knows
+me knows that."
+
+"Everybody who knows you knows you to be staunch, and brave, and
+true," said Dick, kissing her, "and to have the kindest heart that
+ever beat in a woman's breast. You'll bear witness to that, won't you,
+Gracie?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"I'm not to be put off with a kiss," said Aunt Rob. "Let us hear what
+concerns us." The latter part of this conversation took place while
+they entered the house, and they were now in the sitting-room, with
+the gas turned up. "Look at that white face." She pointed to Florence,
+who was standing tearless, with her hand at her heart. Dick's own
+heart sank at the mute misery in her face. "Do what you can to relieve
+her anxiety, Dick."
+
+"Let Dick act as he thinks best, mother," said Florence, but she still
+kept her hand at her heart, and Dick felt that it would be worse than
+cruel to offer any further opposition to Aunt Rob's wishes.
+
+"You shall hear what Gracie has to tell," he said, "but not a word
+must pass out of this room. There's a prologue to it."
+
+He spoke of his impressions concerning Dr. Vinsen, and of his
+conviction that there was a sinister motive to Reginald's prejudice
+behind that gentleman's unsolicited kindness to Gracie's family; after
+which he related how he and Gracie had entered into partnership that
+morning to track Dr. Vinsen and the vindictive juryman down, in the
+hope of discovering something that would be of service to them.
+
+"It was an odd fancy of mine to call myself the captain and Gracie the
+first mate of the ship that was going on this voyage of discovery, and
+it's my opinion there will be high jinks if we succeed in bringing
+that ship to anchor. Now, mate, for your news. Have you seen Dr.
+Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes, Dick, I've seen a lot of him," said Gracie, "but his name ain't
+Vinsen, and he ain't a doctor."
+
+"By Jove!" said Dick, under his breath. "Who and what is he, Gracie?"
+
+"He's a money-lender, and his name is Ezra Lynn."
+
+"That's the first trick to us," said Dick. "Begin at the beginning,
+mate, and go right through it."
+
+She did, and did not pause till she came to that part of her story
+where Dr. Vinsen hailed a hansom cab, and drove off at too swift a
+pace for her to follow.
+
+They listened in breathless interest. Gracie's skill in the weaving of
+stories of the imagination for the entertainment of her little
+brothers and sisters served her in good stead in this story of real
+life, and, quite unconsciously to herself, she imparted a dramatic
+touch to the narrative which lifted it above the level of its sordid
+details.
+
+"Talk of your detectives!" exclaimed Dick, in wonder and admiration.
+"Here's a little girl that can show them the way to go. Why, the man
+could be prosecuted for practising without a diploma. But, the motive,
+the motive, the motive? We're getting hold of the ends of loose
+strings. How to tie them, how to tie them?" He paced the room in his
+excitement. "Is that all, Gracie?"
+
+"Oh, no, there's ever so much more. When he was gone I went back to
+the baker's shop, to see if I could find out anything more about him.
+I _did_ hear a lot! Oh, Dick, he's a regular bad 'un. He's lived there
+ever so many years, and there ain't a living soul that's got a good
+word for him. I saw the man again they called a jackal, and I got his
+name and where he lives. Here it is. I bought a sheet of paper and a
+bit of pencil for a ha'penny, and I put all the names and addresses
+down, for fear I might forget 'em. Here's the man's name that's going
+to be sold up to-morrow, and here's the baker woman's name and
+address, and here's the trunk shop, and here's the number of the house
+in Park Street that he looked so long up at the windows of."
+
+"Reginald's lodgings," said Dick, looking at the paper. "What do you
+think now of my first mate? Anything more, Gracie?"
+
+"When I got all I could out of 'em I thought I'd come and try to find
+you, Dick, and I took a tram and two busses to Catchpole Square, but
+you weren't there. Then I came here, and you weren't here. Then I went
+back to Catchpole Square again, and who should I see but Dr. Vinsen
+going into a house in Shore Street. It's down on the paper."
+
+"Dr. Pye's house," explained Dick. "We're getting warm."
+
+"He kept there an hour and more, but I never budged, When he came out
+he didn't look pleased, and he looked worse when he bought some more
+special editions of the papers, and read what was in 'em."
+
+"Wanted the inquest over," interposed Dick, "and a verdict of wilful
+murder against Reginald. Go on, partner."
+
+"It was getting night, and I thought I might have a chance of catching
+the man Dr. Vinsen was talking to last night, so I went to the place
+where the inquest was held, and there I saw him. I saw you, too,
+ma'am, and the young lady, and a good many others, all talking
+together. I didn't see you, Dick."
+
+"I wasn't there."
+
+"But where were you, child?" asked Aunt Rob. "I didn't set eyes on
+you."
+
+"I took care you shouldn't. When this man went away--oh, what a black
+face he had, Dick!--I followed him home. He doesn't live fur off, and
+he keeps an ironmonger's shop. You'll see the name on the paper, Dick;
+it's the bottom name."
+
+"I see it, Gracie. P. Rawdon, ironmonger, 24, Wellington Street."
+
+"There's a lot of things outside the shop window on the pavement,
+pots, and pans, and pails, under a verandah, and a boy was taking 'em
+into the shop. I sneaks up to the boy, and says, 'Is that the master?'
+'Yes,' the boy says, 'that's the guv'nor.' 'Mr. Rawdon?' I says.
+'Yes,' he says, 'Mr. Rawdon.' And with that he goes inside with his
+arms full, and I walks away, for I didn't know what else I could do,
+when up comes Dr. Vinsen again, almost at the top of me. Lucky for me
+he didn't catch sight of me. I cut across the road, and watched him go
+into the shop. I waited a little while, but it was past seven o'clock,
+and you said I was to be here before eight. That's all, Dick."
+
+"And enough," said Dick, "more than enough for one day. There isn't a
+man or woman in all England who could have done as much in so short a
+time. I'm proud of you, Gracie. Now, my girl, you mustn't breathe a
+word of all this to another living soul in the world."
+
+"I won't," said Gracie, her heart swelling with pride at being
+addressed by Dick as "my girl."
+
+"I begin to see light, aunt. That man, Vinsen, sham doctor and
+philanthropist, alias Ezra Lynn, real scoundrelly money-lender, and
+Dr. Pye have been hatching a plot against us, and have drawn the other
+scoundrel Rawdon into it. Light--yes, light! And there's more behind
+it that I'll get at before I'm many days older. You don't like
+secrets, aunt, but this _must_ be kept from Uncle Rob. He might
+consider it his duty to make a move, and if he does we are done for.
+You can't see as well as I can what is hanging to this discovery of
+Gracie's. I pledge you both to secrecy--for Reginald's sake. We must
+keep this before us. All that we have done, all that we are doing, is
+for Reginald's sake. Promise, promise!"
+
+They were aglow with excitement, and they replied simultaneously,
+
+"We promise, Dick."
+
+"That's right. We'll draw those ferrets out of their hole, and it will
+not be long before Reginald is a free man--freely and honourably
+acquitted, with every one who knows him, and every one who doesn't,
+ready and eager to shake hands with him, and give him a word of
+sympathy."
+
+"Dear Dick!" said Florence, giving him both her hands.
+
+"Dear Florence, dear aunt, I would go through fire and water for you."
+He turned suddenly to Gracie. "What have you had to eat to-day?"
+
+"A penny loaf at the baker shop," replied Gracie, who was fainting
+with hunger.
+
+"Nothing more?" cried Aunt Rob.
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Florence, lay the tablecloth; and you, Dick, run down to the kitchen,
+and fetch the bread and butter--and you'll find a cake in the larder.
+And bring up the kettle--I'll make the tea here. Tell the servant to
+cook four large rashers and poach half-a-dozen eggs. Draw up to the
+table child--why, you must be starving!"
+
+"I'm all right, ma'am. It ain't worth while worrying about me."
+
+"You dear little mite!" Aunt Rob's heart was overflowing with pity,
+and she bent down and kissed her. Dick was back, loaded with a
+steaming kettle and bread and butter and cake, and though Aunt Rob was
+no fairy, the tea was made and a cup placed before Gracie, and bread
+and butter cut, as quickly as any fairy, though she were light as
+gossamer, could have accomplished it. "Don't wait for us, Gracie, the
+bacon and eggs will soon be here--why, here they are! Now, my dear,
+make a good meal, and you sit down, Florence, and eat. It's easier to
+meet trouble with a full stomach than an empty one. Here's your cup,
+Dick; you look famished, too. Things look ever so much brighter, don't
+they?"
+
+And thus she rattled on to put Gracie at her ease, and under the
+influence of a spirit so buoyant and hopeful a fuller meal was eaten
+than would otherwise have been the case, and they were all the happier
+for it. Then Gracie arose, and thanking them quietly said that her
+mother would be worrying about her, and if they would excuse her she
+would like to go home. There was a grave look on Aunt Rob's face at
+mention of Gracie's mother, for she thought of Mrs. Death's conduct an
+hour or two ago at the Coroner's Court, but she said nothing except
+that Gracie ought to go home at once. She would have liked to wrap up
+what was left of the cake, and give it to the child to take to her
+little brothers and sisters, but she felt that the kindly act might be
+misconstrued, and might get Gracie into trouble.
+
+"I will walk a little way with you," said Dick. "Aunt Rob, I have a
+great deal to do, and I sha'n't be able to come back to-night. Get to
+bed early, you and Florence, and try to sleep. It will brighten
+Reginald up to-morrow if he sees you with cheerful faces, which you
+can't show him without proper rest."
+
+So the good nights were exchanged, and the mother and daughter were
+left alone. Before Florence went to bed she wrote a long and loving
+letter to Reginald, and Aunt Rob also wrote a letter, which Florence
+enclosed in hers; and then the young wife, so sorely tried ran out to
+post it, and kissed it passionately before she dropped it into the
+box. She and her mother were to sleep together that night, and Aunt
+Rob sent Florence up to bed first. Household duties had fallen into
+arrear in consequence of her long attendance at the Coroner's Court,
+and these must be attended to before she retired; she was not the
+woman to neglect her domestic affairs, and she knew that her husband
+would feel the happier for seeing a tidy home when he came from his
+office. She was occupied nigh upon two hours, and then there was a
+little note to be written to her husband, and laid open on the table,
+telling him that she was sleeping with Florence, and that he was to
+sleep in Dick's room. Aunt Rob was not what would be considered a very
+religious woman, but she had an underlying and unconscious religion of
+her own which she steadily practised--the religion that lies in kind
+thoughts and deeds, in upright conduct and duties conscientiously
+performed; and she was not in the habit of reading her Bible
+regularly. But this night, when all her household work was done, she
+took the Book of Consolation from the shelf, and reverently read
+therein till nearly midnight.
+
+During these hours of work and prayer she had not been unmindful of
+her daughter; every now and then she stepped softly up to the bedroom
+and listened at the door; she would not open it, lest the creaking
+should disturb the young girl. She stood there in the dark, and
+listened. "My darling is asleep," she whispered to herself as she went
+quietly downstairs.
+
+For an hour and more she read in the Holy Book, and when she closed it
+a deep calm rested on her face and a look of peace in her eyes. The
+feeling that possessed her was the feeling of a woman in affliction
+who had heard the voice of God. Balm was in her heart. Truly her house
+was a house of sorrow, but it was also a house of faith and hope. Who
+shall say that the spiritual links of love that join heart to heart,
+though miles of space lie between, did not pulse with a sweet and
+tender message to the innocent man lying in his cell?
+
+Turning down the gas in the sitting room and the passage, and placing
+her note to her husband in such a position that it would be sure to
+meet his eye when he entered, Aunt Rob stole upstairs to bed, carrying
+the candle with her. She started when she saw a white-robed form
+kneeling by the bedside. It was Florence, who had been lifting her
+heart to God, and who had fallen asleep with a prayer on her lips.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIV.
+
+            EXTRACTS FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF FRIDAY,
+                       THE 15TH OF MARCH, 1896.
+
+
+The intense interest taken by the public in the progress of the
+mystery of Catchpole Square was markedly shown this morning by the
+enormous concourse of people assembled in the vicinity of the Bishop
+Street Police Court, where Mr. Reginald Boyd was brought before the
+magistrate, charged with the murder of his father, Mr. Samuel Boyd, on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. In these times of fever and
+unrest, when scarcely a day passes without some new sensation cropping
+up to overshadow the sensation of yesterday and drive it from the
+minds of newspaper readers, it is rare indeed that any one startling
+incident should continue for so long a time to engross public
+attention. For this reason, if for no other, this extraordinary
+mystery will be long remembered; but, quite apart from the morbid
+curiosity which all murder cases bring into play, there are in this
+case elements of perplexity and bewilderment which entitle it to the
+first place in the annals of great crimes. It is not our purpose to
+offer any opinion as to the probable guilt of this or that person; the
+matter is now in the hands of justice, and it would be manifestly
+improper to try the case in our editorial room, but this does not
+prevent our columns being open to the discussion of abstract matters
+which may or may not have a bearing upon it.
+
+To the disappointment of the sight-seers in the adjoining wider
+thoroughfares the accused man was driven to Bishop Street through side
+streets but little frequented, and so skilfully were the police
+arrangements carried out that he was conducted into the court by the
+rear entrance before the general public were aware that he had started
+from the station. The Court was crowded, and among those assembled
+were the wife and mother-in-law of the prisoner, who it was understood
+had had an interview with him before the commencement of the
+proceedings.
+
+Mr. Marlow represented the Public Prosecutor, and Mr. Pallaret
+appeared for the prisoner.
+
+Mr. Marlow, addressing the magistrate, stated that it was not his
+intention to do more than formally open the case, after which, without
+taking any evidence beyond proving the arrest of the prisoner, he
+should ask for a remand until that day week. The police had not yet
+concluded their preliminary investigations, and the interests of
+justice would be best served by the course he proposed to adopt.
+Having briefly narrated the circumstances which led to the accused
+being charged with so horrible a crime, he called Mr. Lambert,
+detective officer in the police service, who gave evidence of the
+arrest.
+
+Mr. Marlow: "That is as far as I propose to go, your worship. I now
+ask for a remand till this day week."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I do not oppose the remand, but I have a question or
+two to put to the witness, and a remark to make to the Court." To the
+witness: "When you arrested the accused did he offer any resistance?"
+
+The Witness: "On the contrary. Suspecting, or having heard, that I had
+a warrant for his arrest he came up to me voluntarily, and said he was
+at my disposal."
+
+"He walked quietly with you to the station?"
+
+"Quite quietly."
+
+"Did he make any statement?"
+
+"No. I advised him to say nothing."
+
+"What was his reply to that?"
+
+"He said, 'I am not afraid to speak. Until my innocence is proved I
+will proclaim it to all the world.'"
+
+"I have no further questions to ask you." To the magistrate: "The
+observation I desire to make is this. No one can be more anxious than
+the accused that the fullest light should be thrown upon this sad
+affair, and that the murderer of his father shall be brought to
+justice. He himself has offered a reward of £500 for the discovery of
+the murderer. But we enter a strong protest to any unnecessary delay
+in the disclosure of the evidence we have to combat. To arrest a man
+on a charge so serious without sufficient evidence to support it, and
+merely because the police deem it necessary that some person should be
+put on his trial, would be monstrous. I make no complaint against the
+police, but there have been occasions on which they have erred, and
+have inflicted cruel injustice upon innocent persons. There was the
+Great Porter Square case, in which a son, accused of the murder of his
+father, was brought up at the magistrate's court no fewer than seven
+times. The police had nothing against him, and he was eventually
+proved to be innocent. I trust similar tactics will not be pursued in
+the present case. To any unnecessary delay we shall offer the most
+strenuous opposition. Will bail be allowed?"
+
+The Magistrate: "No. I have no doubt the police will do their duty.
+The case stands adjourned till this day week, at eleven in the
+morning."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LV.
+
+                   CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.
+
+
+A man may be an easy-going man all his life, and go down to his grave
+without anything occurring to take him, as it were, out of himself, or
+to make him, either suddenly or by gradual stages, a different being
+from that which those most intimate with him believe him to be. We
+have seen this exemplified in Dick Remington, who, from an easy-going,
+irresponsible being, with no definite or serious aim in life, and with
+an apparently conspicuous lack of industry and application, has
+suddenly become an earnest, strong-minded, strong-willed man, bent
+upon a task which would tax the most astute intellect.
+
+An experience of this nature, but in a different way, had come to
+Constable Applebee, in whose mind certain agitating visions had been
+conjured up by the appearance of the reward bills. The usually calm
+depths were stirred, and the peaceful current of his daily duties
+became convulsed. If he could earn only one of the rewards he was a
+made man, let alone the chances of promotion. The prospect was
+alluringly disturbing, and it made Constable Applebee restless and
+watchful. When a dull man gets an idea into his head it becomes a
+fixture; to argue with him is time thrown away; it is there, and he
+sticks to it, perhaps because of its novelty; and when that idea
+carries with it the prospect of a lump of money all the logicians in
+the world are powerless to remove it until the sterner logic of fact,
+proves it to be false. And even then he doubts and shakes his head.
+
+Applebee's idea, which had created these visions of fame and a golden
+future, was that the man who had committed the murder and who had the
+jewels in his possession, was no other than Mr. Dick Remington.
+Whether he alone was the culprit, or in collusion with Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, time would show.
+
+He kept his counsel; not even in the wife of his bosom did he confide.
+He knew that Detective Lambert had the case in hand, the great
+detective who had brought so many mysterious crimes to light. What if
+he, Applebee, could succeed in proving himself Lambert's equal and
+snatching the prize from him? The prospect of such a triumph was
+dazzling. Dick met Applebee at the entrance of Deadman's Court, and
+gave him good evening.
+
+"Good evening," said Constable Applebee.
+
+He was not a man of overpowering intellect, and with this weighty
+matter in his mind he had not the wit to say good evening in his usual
+cordial manner. Dick noticed the change of tone, but attached no
+importance to it.
+
+Now, the duller-witted a man is, the more suspicious he is, and while
+Dick noticed a change of manner in Applebee which really existed, and
+attached no importance to it, Applebee noticed a change of manner in
+Dick which did not exist, and to which he attached immense importance.
+"He sees that I suspect him," thought Applebee, "and is afraid. What
+makes him afraid? Guilty conscience. That proves it." Thus do we jump
+at conclusions when we have all the argument to ourselves.
+
+He saw nothing more of Dick that night, and great was his chagrin the
+following day to see pasted on the door of Samuel Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square the following notice:
+
+"Absent on business. All communications for Mr. Remington to be
+addressed to Inspector Robson."
+
+"He's cut and run," was Applebee's first thought. His second thought
+was that this was a move on Dick's part to put him off the scent. "But
+I'll be a match for him," he thought.
+
+"He's sure to come back, and the next time I lay hands on him off he
+goes with me to the station. I'll charge him, and chance it. The
+thing's as clear as mud. What a fool I was not to have seen it all
+before! Why did he keep hanging round Catchpole Square night after
+night while Samuel Boyd was laying dead in bed? Where did he go on the
+night of the great fog after I parted with him at three in the
+morning? He didn't keep in the streets all night, I'll take my oath on
+that. Where was he? Why, where else but in Samuel Boyd's house,
+packing up the things? He was clerk there once, and knows all the ins
+and outs of the place. Pond tells me he keeps his room locked, and
+that his missis is not allowed to go into it even to make the bed.
+What does he keep it shut up for? Is the property there? A search
+warrant would settle that, but as things stand there's no chance of my
+getting one. I shouldn't be surprised if he keeps the jewellery about
+him. It must be worth a heap of money. I asked Mrs. Pond this morning
+whether he slept there last night. No, he hadn't, nor the night
+before. He used to live with Inspector Robson, but he doesn't live
+there now. Then what has he been doing with himself of a night all
+this last week? I'll be hanged if I don't go to Mrs. Robson, and ask
+for him!"
+
+Screwing up his courage he presented himself at Aunt Rob's house, and
+his knock at the door was answered by that lady herself.
+
+"Is Mr. Dick Remington in?" he asked.
+
+"No, he isn't," replied Aunt Rob.
+
+"Can you tell me where to find him, Mrs. Robson?"
+
+"No, I can't."
+
+"Will he be back soon?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Applebee scratched his head; he had come to the end of his resources
+in that quarter.
+
+"Do you want him for anything particular?" inquired Aunt Rob,
+anxiously.
+
+"Not for anything very particular."
+
+"Perhaps you'll leave a message."
+
+"No, thank you," said Applebee, feeling as if he was being badgered,
+and repeated, "It's nothing very particular." Then he walked away.
+
+"They're all in a plot together," he mused. "I don't half like the way
+she answered me. She never took her eyes off my face. He's gone off to
+get rid of the jewellery. I'll keep my eye on Catchpole Square.
+There's a chance of his coming back for something he left behind. If
+he does, I'll nab him."
+
+The longer he brooded upon it the stronger grew his conviction of
+Dick's complicity in the crime, and the more firmly was he resolved to
+make the arrest when he had the chance. Little did he dream of the
+kind of success that was to attend his zealous efforts and the
+startling developments which were to follow.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LVI.
+
+              EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT
+                          DETECTIVE OFFICER.
+
+
+                    _Thursday, March 15th_, 1896.
+
+
+Arrested Mr. Reginald Boyd this evening for the murder of his father,
+Mr. Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Arrest made at the door of the
+Coroner's Court. Had a little scene with Mr. Rawdon, the juryman who
+has been making all this fuss during the inquiry.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd bore his arrest very well. So did his good little
+wife, who agreeably disappointed my expectation that she would break
+down. So did not Mrs. Inspector Robson, a brick of a woman, who showed
+me very plainly what she thought of me. I may say emphatically that
+her feelings are the reverse of friendly, and from a woman of strong
+opinions it is just what might be expected. But then she doesn't know
+what is good for her; she would have to be gifted with second sight
+before she would give me a civil word just now. Poor women! I pity
+them. They will have a weary night of it.
+
+If things turn out as I anticipate this arrest will be about the
+cleverest move I have ever made. Reason why? Because I believe Mr.
+Reginald Boyd to be as innocent as I am myself.
+
+Why arrest him, then?
+
+In the first place, because he had to be arrested, and if I had not
+done it another officer would. Indeed, it is I who am indirectly
+responsible for the issuing of the warrant. More correct, perhaps, to
+say for expediting its issue. I could name half-a-dozen men who were
+burning to make the arrest. They would have to rise very early to get
+ahead of me.
+
+In the second place, because I wasn't sorry to be able to do Inspector
+Robson a good turn. A queer way of setting about it, he would say. But
+it's true, for all that. And it's as good a thing as could have
+happened to the young fellow.
+
+In the third place, because, had the arrest not been made by me, I
+should have no excuse for interviewing Dr. Pye. I hope to have
+something to tell my French brother-in arms, Joseph Pitou, that will
+astonish his weak nerves. He writes to me from Milan, where he is
+making inquiries, he says. Is sorry he can't come over to London, he
+says. I am not. I don't want him yet awhile. Keep away, friend Joseph,
+keep away, till I send for you. There's plenty to puzzle over in this
+Catchpole Square Mystery without having the other mystery of Louis
+Lorenz piled on the top of it--that's what most men would think. I'm
+not one of them. It needs something big in the way of sensation to
+wake people up in this year of grace. If all turns out well, they'll
+get it. Besides take Louis Lorenz out of the case, and what becomes of
+Dr. Pye?
+
+Dick Remington has a plan of operations already cut and dried--I'll
+take my oath of that. It's humiliating to have to confess that I
+haven't a notion what it is. Never mind. I'll back what I know against
+what he knows, and we'll see who'll get to the winning post first. If
+I had a leisure hour I'd ferret out the connection between him and
+that old fence Higgins; as it is, I haven't a leisure minute.
+
+Let me see. What have I to do to-morrow? First, the magistrate's
+court, to give evidence of the arrest. Shall have to remain till the
+remand's granted. There is sure to be a sharp lawyer on the other
+side. If they're wise they will engage one of the highest standing.
+
+I don't expect to be free till two or three o'clock, and then I must
+see if I can hunt up the case of Louis Lorenz. There was a description
+of the man in the papers, but I doubt if I shall be able to lay hands
+on it, as there was no suspicion of the man coming our way. Then there
+was a report that he was found dead in a wood in Gallicia, shot
+through the heart. It was in Gallicia he was tried and condemned to
+death, and three days afterwards escaped from gaol. Some said he
+bribed the gaolers. The property was never traced. Friend Joseph Pitou
+promises to send a portrait of him, and full personal particulars.
+
+At eight o'clock I present myself at Dr. Pye's house in Shore Street,
+and send in my card. A welcome visitor? Not much of an open question
+that. Then will commence the tug of war. Strange that I have never set
+eyes on him. I was not in the Coroner's Court when he gave evidence.
+Very good of him to come forward, wasn't it, to drive a nail in Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's coffin.
+
+One o'clock. I must get to bed.
+
+
+                      _Friday, March 16th_, 1896.
+
+
+A busy day. I must set things down, or they will get muddled. Nothing
+like system. Order is nature's first law. It is also mine.
+
+By the first post a letter from friend Joseph. I passed it across the
+table to my wife to translate. She shook her head. "Why," I said, "you
+translated his other letters." "They were in French," she replied;
+"this is in Italian. I don't understand Italian." And there the
+rubbish lay on my table, and me staring helplessly at it, exasperating
+me to that degree----!
+
+Wasn't it enough to put a man out? What the devil does Joseph Pitou
+mean by writing to me in all the languages under the sun? English is
+good enough for me; isn't French good enough for him? Does it to crow
+over me, I dare say, to show how superior the foreign detective
+service is to ours. But I think we could teach you a trick or two,
+friend Joseph. Off went a telegram to him in French (written, of
+course, by my wife), requesting him to send me that letter again in
+his own native language. And though it is now eleven o'clock at night
+there is no reply. Do you call that business, Joseph Pitou? And where
+is the portrait you promised to send?
+
+There is a word in the letter that my wife says means patience. It is
+repeated three times. Friend Joseph, no one knows the value of
+patience better than David Lambert; he has exercised it to good
+purpose in times gone by. But when a man that you would take your oath
+is innocent is in a prison cell on a charge of murder it isn't easy to
+exercise it, especially when you get letters written in foreign
+languages.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd's people have engaged the soundest and best counsel
+in London in a case of this kind--Mr. Pallaret. None of your bullies
+or cockchafers, but a man that knows the law and will stand no
+nonsense, and a man that the bench listens to with respect. They could
+not have done better, and he made it pretty plain that he did not mean
+to allow this case to drag on at the pleasure of the police. They were
+all in the magistrate's court, Inspector Robson and his wife, and Mrs.
+Reginald Boyd, and, of course, the prisoner. Upon my word, it looks
+like injustice to set the word against him, believing what I believe,
+and knowing all the time that the case of the prosecution is as weak
+as water. I did not give them a glance, but I felt Mrs. Robson's eye
+upon me, and I was downright sorry for them. However, it was soon
+over. Remanded for a week. That gives us breathing time, but to the
+devil with your patience, friend Joseph.
+
+I make a mistake when I say they were all there. Dick Remington was
+absent, and it rather surprised me. So when I left the court I made my
+way to Catchpole Square, just to give him the time of day and see how
+he took it. There I met with another surprise. On the door of Samuel
+Boyd's house is a written notice, saying that Dick Remington is absent
+on business, and that all communications for him are to be addressed
+to Inspector Robson.
+
+Now, what is the meaning of that? On my way to Dr. Pye's to-night I
+met Constable Applebee, on night duty there. When I see there's
+something on a man's mind that's as likely as not to be of service to
+me if I can get at it, I encourage that man to talk. I saw there was
+something on Applebee's mind--you can see through him with half an
+eye--and I encouraged _him_ to talk. Glad enough he was, and willing
+enough. And what do you think he asked me? Why, if I knew where Dick
+Remington was hanging out? "In Catchpole Square, of course," I
+answered, quite innocently. "That he isn't," said Applebee, as
+triumphantly as if we were playing a hand at cards and he had won a
+trick by fine play. "There's a notice pasted on the door that he's not
+to be found there; he's gone away on business it says." "Well," said
+I, "if he's not to be found in Catchpole Square you'll find him at
+Inspector Robson's house." "No, I sha'n't," he answered, thinking he'd
+scored another trick. "I've been there, and from what Mrs. Robson said
+it's my belief she doesn't know where he is." "That's singular," I
+said, "what do _you_ make of it?" "What do you make of it, Mr.
+Lambert?" he asked. I considered a moment, and then said I gave it up.
+"But _you've_ an opinion," said I, insinuatingly. "Let's have it."
+Upon which he volunteered his conviction that Dick Remington had cut
+and run. "Why should he cut and run?" I asked, as innocent as any
+baby. "That," he answered, solemnly shutting himself up, "I must keep
+to myself." I laughed in my sleeve. _He_ wants to discover the
+murderer of Samuel Boyd, and collar the reward, and he has come to the
+conclusion that Dick Remington's the man. It's comic. I give you my
+word, it's comic.
+
+But I ask again, what is the meaning of Remington's disappearance? It
+means something. What? Is he hunting for the tiger, and has he got a
+clue? It seems to me that I mustn't lose time. That £500 belongs to
+me, and I intend to have it.
+
+At eight o'clock I knocked at Dr. Pye's door, and a young woman opened
+it, a fine upstanding animal from the country. "Norfolk," said I to
+myself when she asked me what I wanted in the sing-song voice peculiar
+to the county. "I want to see Dr. Pye," I said. "Not at home," she
+answered, without a moment's hesitation. "I think he is," I said. She
+stared at me helplessly. "That is the answer you've been told to
+give," I said. "Yes," she said. "To every one?" I asked. "Yes," she
+said. I slipped my card and a sixpence into her hand. "Put the
+sixpence in your pocket," I said, "and take my card up to Dr. Pye."
+Willing as she was to pocket the sixpence I think she would have shut
+the door in my face if I had left it free, but one leg was inside and
+one out. "You will get in trouble if you don't do as I tell you," I
+said. "I am an officer of the law--a policeman." I knew the magic
+there was in the word to a Norfolk village girl. "Take the card this
+instant to Dr. Pye," I said, in a tone of authority. She vanished, and
+I waited five minutes by my watch before she came down again. "You can
+come up," she said, and I noticed that she had been crying. We went
+upstairs together, and she opened a door.
+
+A man was standing at a table, holding a glass containing a liquid up
+to the gas light. Two other glasses containing liquid were on the
+table; the glasses were long and thin, and the liquid of different
+colours. With the exception of these glasses, the table, and two
+wooden chairs, the room was bare of furniture. The mantelshelf had not
+an article upon it, there was not a picture on the walls. The house is
+double-fronted, and must contain a great many rooms; the one I was in
+faced Shore Street; there was a shutter to the window, partly closed.
+
+"Dr. Pye?" I said.
+
+"I am Dr. Pye," he answered. "Do not interrupt me; I am making an
+experiment."
+
+I stood still and silent, and waited.
+
+From inquiries I have made no person in the neighbourhood is more than
+casually acquainted with Dr. Pye. He has a reputation as a scientific
+man, but I have been unable to ascertain on what precise grounds. It
+is supposed that he is always experimenting with chemicals and gases,
+and ignorant people go as far as to declare that he is searching for
+the elixir of life. He is not on visiting terms with any of his
+neighbours; all that is known and said of him is hearsay.
+
+A remarkable looking man. There is a stoop in his shoulders, and at
+the first glance he gives one the impression that he has passed all
+his life in study. His eyes are the colour of steel, and I should
+judge him to be possessed of great mesmeric power. His voice is slow
+and deliberate; his manners, also. A man less given to impulsive
+action I never gazed upon. I must not omit to mention that his hair is
+iron grey, and his face clean shaven.
+
+Holding one glass in his left hand he lifted another with his right,
+and mixed the liquids. Then he placed the glasses on the table, and
+fixed his eyes upon them.
+
+He had not once looked steadily at me, but I recognised in his actions
+a magnetic power which, had I been a man of weak nerve, would have
+compelled me to follow the result of this experiment with an interest
+as keen as his own appeared to be, and to the exclusion of every other
+subject. To put it more plainly, he would, in a manner of speaking,
+have emptied my mind of its own thoughts and replaced them with his.
+This is what did _not_ occur. I followed the experiment with simple
+curiosity.
+
+After a silence which lasted two or three minutes he lifted his eyes
+from the glasses, and they met mine. I smiled and nodded at him. He
+did not return my salutation, and there was no change in his grey
+face.
+
+In the matter of expression I never met a man who seemed so utterly
+devoid of it as Dr. Pye. His features might have been carved in wood,
+his eyes might have been steel balls, for all the indication they gave
+of what was passing in his mind. When you have any business on hand
+with a man of that kind, beware. I had no need of the warning, having
+all my wits about me, and having come prepared for possible squalls;
+and whatever were my feelings regarding Dr. Pye, admiration was
+certainly one of them. The prospect of a battle royal with such an
+antagonist exhilarated me.
+
+We continued to gaze at each other for a few moments, and I was
+careful not to change my expression. That he was disappointed in my
+manner I did not doubt; I was not exactly the kind of man he would
+have liked me to be. My mind was my own; he had no power over it.
+
+Presently he turned his attention again to the glasses on the table,
+timing with his watch some expected change in the liquids he had
+mixed. If he was the party I was searching for I needed to look to my
+safety, so, though I showed no fear, and felt none, I did not move
+from the spot upon which I had taken my stand on entering the room.
+The handle of the door was within reach of my hand, so was my pretty
+little revolver, which I can hold in my palm without anyone being the
+wiser.
+
+Opening a cupboard which, in my swift observation of it, contained
+nothing but a few sticks and glasses, he took a slender cane from a
+shelf, and stirred up the liquid. As he did so it burst gradually into
+flame, in which shone all the colours of the rainbow. Tiny streams of
+fire ascended fountainlike into the air, and dropped back into the
+glass; it burnt, I should say, for the space of three minutes, the
+colours all the time glowing and changing. In a small way I have
+seldom seen anything prettier. At first I was inclined to regard this
+little performance as a kind of hanky-panky, but I soon corrected
+myself, for any person less resembling a vulgar showman than Dr. Pye
+it would be difficult to find.
+
+The coruscations of colour died away, the spiral threads of fire had
+spent themselves, the liquid had disappeared, and at the bottom of the
+glass was a small sediment, which Dr. Pye carefully emptied into a
+piece of white satin tissue paper, which he carefully folded and put
+into his pocket. Then he spoke.
+
+"I gave the maid instructions that no person was to be admitted to see
+me, as I was engaged upon an exceedingly delicate experiment which it
+has taken me some days to prepare."
+
+"I hope it has been successful," I said, politely.
+
+"I cannot tell," he answered. "The small modicum of powder I have
+collected is in its present state valueless except as a destroyer."
+
+"As a destroyer?"
+
+"Yes. The minutest portion of it dissolved in a glass of water is
+sudden death. But these are matters in which you cannot be expected to
+take an interest."
+
+"Pardon me, doctor. To all men of intelligence such matters are of the
+deepest interest"--I was proceeding when he waved the subject away.
+
+"It is not of my scientific experiments you have come to speak. I see
+by your card"--he referred to it--"that you are a detective officer."
+
+"My name is tolerably well known," I said, and he stopped me again.
+
+"To members of the criminal classes, no doubt. I am behind the age, I
+am afraid."
+
+If he thought to mortify me by implying that he had never heard of me
+he did not succeed. "It is known to others outside those classes. You
+have read my evidence in the case?"
+
+"In what case?"
+
+"The Catchpole Square case."
+
+"No," he said, "such cases have no attraction for me. I used to take
+in the daily newspapers, but I found that they distracted my attention
+from my pursuits, so now I read only scientific papers."
+
+"But you gave evidence at the inquest, doctor!"
+
+"I know I did. A friend mentioned the matter to me, spoke of incidents
+connected with it, and said that the murder must have taken place on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. I recollected that I was up
+late that night, and that, as I stood at my window at three in the
+morning, some unusual movement in the Square forced itself upon my
+attention; I recollected that I had used an insignificant little
+invention of mine, a new kind of flash-light, to ascertain precisely
+the details of the movement. I spoke of this to my friend, who said it
+was my duty to come forward and relate what had come under my
+observation. In consequence of that remark I tendered my evidence, and
+was glad to be rid of the affair."
+
+"But you are not rid of it, doctor," I said.
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Have you not heard that Mr. Reginald Boyd has been arrested for the
+murder?"
+
+"No, I have not seen a newspaper this week, and you are the first
+visitor I have had. The young man has been arrested, has he? I trust
+he will be able to clear himself. When did the arrest take place?"
+
+"Yesterday evening. I made it. It is news to you, then, that he was
+brought before the magistrate this morning?"
+
+"Yes, it is quite new to me. What was the result?"
+
+"He is remanded for a week. It takes some time to get up a case of
+this kind, and when we take one in hand we don't like to be beaten.
+I've had to do with many, Dr. Pye, and I've never been beaten yet. I
+don't mean to be beaten now."
+
+There was the faintest show of interest on his countenance. "Do you
+believe, in the young man's guilt, Mr. Lambert?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered. "Don't you?"
+
+"How is it possible for me to have an opinion?" he said, and I looked
+upon it as an astonishing remark for him to make after the evidence he
+had given at the inquest.
+
+"But you saw him leave the house on the night of the murder, doctor,
+and under most suspicious circumstances, as if he were mortally afraid
+of being caught. Is not that enough to base an opinion upon?"
+
+"I must be just, Mr. Lambert. When my eyes fell upon Mr. Reginald Boyd
+in the Court I was startled by the resemblance he bore to the man I
+saw in the Square. If attention had not been called to my feeling of
+astonishment, which I suppose was expressed in my face, I am not sure
+whether I should have spoken of the resemblance."
+
+"But consider, doctor. You came forward in the interests of justice."
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Of your own accord. Without being summoned."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would it have been in the interests of justice that you should
+conceal this startling resemblance?"
+
+"It is a fair question. It would not. But still I say I might have
+reflected upon the matter before I gave my suspicion tongue."
+
+"You would have left the Court without revealing the secret?"
+
+"Secret!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Well, it was a matter known only to yourself. May we not call such a
+knowledge a secret?"
+
+"You argue skilfully, and have drawn me into a conversation which I
+would have perferred to avoid. My time is valuable, Mr. Lambert."
+
+"So is mine, Dr. Pye."
+
+There was a pause; each was waiting for the other to speak, and I was
+determined he should be the first.
+
+"May I inquire," he said, "your reason for evincing so extraordinary
+an interest in this affair?"
+
+Here was an opportunity for a bit of acting; I took advantage of it.
+Leaning forward I said in my most serious tone, "Dr. Pye, my
+reputation is at stake. It is a dangerous admission to make, but we
+are closeted together in confidence, and may say anything to each
+other without fear. No one can hear us"--(I was not so sure of that,
+but it suited my purpose to say it)--"and if either of us were called
+upon to give an account of our interview--though there is nothing more
+unlikely--we might say what we pleased, invent what we pleased, put
+into each other's mouth anything we pleased. That is the advantage of
+speaking without witnesses."
+
+"You are very frank," he said.
+
+"It pays me to be so. I repeat, my reputation is at stake. I have
+arrested a man for murder, and I am bound to prove him guilty. There
+are jealousies in all professions; there are jealousies in mine. I am
+surrounded by men who envy me, and who would like to step in my shoes.
+They would clap their hands in delight if I let the man I arrested
+slip through my fingers. Well, I don't intend to give them this
+satisfaction. My present visit to you is partly private, partly
+professional. Of course, if you say to me, 'Mr. Lambert, I decline to
+have anything to do with your private feelings,' the only thing open
+to me would be to keep those private feelings to myself, and to treat
+you, professionally, as a witness who was not disposed to assist me."
+
+"Justice must not be thwarted," he said.
+
+"Exactly. You hit the nail on the head. May we continue the
+conversation on the lines that will suit you?"
+
+"Well, continue," he said; "it is rather novel to me, and I will
+endeavour to work up an interest in a matter so entirely foreign to
+me. You see," he added, and I was not sure whether he intended to be
+humorous or serious, "there is nothing scientific in it."
+
+"Not in a strict sense, perhaps, but, allowing a latitude, there is
+something scientific in the methods we detectives pursue. The piecing
+together of the loose bits of evidence which we hunt up, a bit here, a
+bit there, arguing upon it, drawing conclusions from it, rejecting
+what will not fit, filling up the empty spaces, until we present
+the whole case without a crack in it for a guilty man to slip
+through--that is what we call circumstantial evidence, and it is
+really a science, doctor. Where did we break off? I was contending
+that it would have been wrong for you to have left the Court without
+speaking of the startling resemblance between Mr. Reginald Boyd and
+the man you saw coming from his father's house in the middle of the
+night. It would have been worse than wrong, it would have been
+criminal. Now, doctor, a man of your penetration could not be
+mistaken. He says he was home and in bed at the time, but it is
+impossible for him to prove it. And why? Because there is not a shadow
+of doubt that he was the man you saw. There must be no wavering in
+your evidence on this point; the crime must be brought home to him; he
+must not escape. Doctor Pye, you must let no feeling of compassion
+prevent you from stating the honest truth. You see what is at stake in
+this matter."
+
+I may say, without vanity, that I was playing my cards well, and if I
+did not laugh in his face--which would have been foolish, though I
+could have done so with much enjoyment--I am entitled to my laugh at
+the recollection of the scene.
+
+"Your reputation is at stake," he said.
+
+"I don't deny it; and the ends of justice; a much more important thing
+to a gentleman of your position."
+
+"Am I to infer that my presence will be necessary in a criminal
+court?"
+
+"It cannot be dispensed with. You will be served with a notice to
+appear as a witness."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Next Friday at the Bishop Street Police Court. There is a clever
+lawyer against us, Mr. Pallaret, and my instructions are to make the
+case in its initial stages as strong as possible, for he will exert
+all his powers to break it down."
+
+"I must appear, I suppose," he said.
+
+"And you will maintain that Mr. Reginald Boyd is the man."
+
+"Yes, to the best of my knowledge and belief."
+
+"Mr. Pallaret is a skilful cross-examiner."
+
+"I will be prepared for him."
+
+"He will endeavour to throw discredit upon your statement."
+
+There was just the suspicion of a smile on his lips as he said, "Let
+him try."
+
+"It will be the more necessary for you to be firm, doctor," I said,
+and I was curious to see whether he would fall into the trap, "because
+Mrs. Death's evidence as to the time you saw Mr. Reginald Boyd come
+out of the house is in direct contradiction to yours."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"She says she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three
+when she was in the Square."
+
+"She is mistaken. She might easily be, alarmed as she was for the
+safety of her husband."
+
+He had fallen into the trap. Here was a man who had stated that I was
+the first visitor he had had this week, and that he had not seen a
+newspaper, acknowledging in his last replies to me that he was
+acquainted with the evidence Mrs. Death had given in the Coroner's
+Court yesterday. If it occurred to him that he had contradicted
+himself he did not gather from me that I was aware of it. I rose to
+go, and kept my face to him.
+
+"I will wish you good night, doctor," I said, and then I lingered. "By
+the way, might I see that clever little device of yours for throwing
+light to a distance?"
+
+"I am sorry I cannot show it to you," he replied. "It is being
+repaired. Good night."
+
+He was anxious to be rid of me, but I still lingered.
+
+"It is from the back windows of your house, doctor, that you can see
+into Catchpole Square?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, and his voice was not cordial; but that I judge it
+seldom is. I mean, that it was more guarded.
+
+"Would you mind showing me the window you looked out of when you saw
+Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"I cannot show you the room to-night. It is used as a sleeping
+apartment by one of the females in the house."
+
+"I beg your pardon; but I should like to see it before next Friday."
+
+"There will be no difficulty. Good night."
+
+"Good night," I said again.
+
+He accompanied me to the street door, inviting me by a motion of his
+hand to precede him down the stairs. I would not be so impolite. I
+insisted upon his going first, and I followed him, with my right hand
+in the pocket containing my little revolver. Our last salutations
+exchanged, he shut the street door upon me.
+
+I walked to the end of the street, and then, on the opposite side of
+the road, slowly retraced my steps till I was within twenty yards or
+so of the house, and waited till Constable Applebee came round on his
+beat.
+
+"You will remain here," I said to him, "and keep Dr. Pye's house under
+observation, without drawing attention upon yourself, till I return. I
+shall be back in less than half an hour. Report to me if any person
+enters or leaves the house during my absence."
+
+When I returned it was in the company of an officer in plain clothes,
+whom I had instructed to keep watch on the house until I sent another
+man to relieve him. Applebee reported that Dr. Pye's street door had
+not been opened.
+
+Well, the train is laid. When it is fired, if friend Joseph Pitou is
+not following a will-o'-the-wisp, there will be a rare explosion. Even
+if he is, I think I can promise one.
+
+What annoys me is, that I have been unable to get the particulars of
+the case of Louis Lorenz.
+
+A postman's knock at the door! The telegram!
+
+Yes, here it is: "Letter, in French, to-morrow. Pitou."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LVII.
+
+                DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.
+
+
+On Monday morning Detective Lambert, as recorded in his diary,
+received Joseph Pitou's letter from Milan--this time written in
+French, which, being duly translated by Mrs. Lambert, caused the
+English detective profound astonishment and delight. It was in keeping
+with the literary methods he pursued that he did not insert the letter
+in his diary, and gave no intelligible account of its contents.
+Neither would it have been in accordance with his methods to have
+omitted mysterious reference to it:
+
+"Letter from Joseph Pitou, commencing, 'My Very Dear and Very
+Illustrious Compatriot and Brother-in-arms,' which I look upon as
+foreign bunkum. I don't object to the 'illustrious,' but we English
+would have put it differently.
+
+"If I were not so closely mixed up with the Catchpole Square Mystery I
+should regard friend Joseph's letter as being copied out of a romance.
+It reads like romance. But it isn't; it is a chapter, or several
+chapters, out of real life. It is a feather in one's cap to be
+connected with such a character--not friend Joseph, but the game we
+are hunting. Big game. The idea of coming face to face with it is
+enough to scare a timid man, but that kind of risk doesn't scare an
+Englishman. I won't do friend Joseph the injustice to say it might
+scare him.
+
+"He sends me the portrait of Louis Lorenz. The mischief of it is that
+Lorenz's face is covered with hair--a fine crop which in the present
+instance, I do not admire. When a criminal is condemned to death in
+Gallicia don't they shave him? A felon loses his rights as a citizen,
+and his moustachios and whiskers are the property of the State.
+
+"My man is clean shaven, but the blue shade on his chin and cheeks
+show that he has a fine stiff crop of his own. So have hundreds of
+thousands of other men. Still it is a link, though not a strong one.
+
+"The point of resemblance is in the forehead and eyes. I took as clear
+a view as possible of his face, and I did not fail to observe that,
+whether by accident or design, he sat with his back to the light.
+True, he did not shift his chair to place himself in that position,
+but for all that I decide it was design and not accident. He seldom
+raised his eyes; when he did he found me ready for him. Now, if it had
+been Applebee who sat opposite him----"
+
+And here, presumably, Lambert broke off to indulge in a laugh.
+
+Near midnight on the same day he continued his diary, but there was no
+reference to Joseph Pitou or Louis Lorenz.
+
+"At three o'clock called on Dr. Pye. An old woman opened the door.
+'Dr. Pye at home?' I asked. 'Not at home,' she answered. 'Take my card
+up to him,' I said. 'Not at home,' she repeated, and jammed my leg in
+the door. I remonstrated. 'Take your leg away,' she said. Seeing
+that she was determined, and having no authority to enter the house, I
+took my leg away, and she slammed the door in my face. Faithful
+creature--and well paid for her services, I'll swear. Told the lie
+with a face of brass, for a lie it was. Dr. Pye was at home. Where is
+my maid from Norfolk? She was seen to leave the house on Saturday
+morning. Cab at the door. Small japanned box brought out, containing
+her wardrobe. Cab drove off with box on the roof and my Norfolk maid
+inside. I ought to have had more than one man on the watch, for then I
+should have known where the cab drove to. Most probably to a railway
+station, to take my maid to her native village. Norfolk has many
+villages. Why was Dr. Pye so anxious to be rid of her? Answer--because
+she did not slam the door in my face, as the old woman did.
+
+"With the exception of two visits from Mr. Ezra Lynn (from the
+description given of the man there could be no mistake it was he)
+there has been nothing discovered. These visits were made on Saturday
+night and last night. On each occasion he came at eight o'clock. On
+Saturday night he remained two hours, last night he remained three.
+Dr. Pye has not been seen to leave the house. From the tradesmen who
+call there nothing has been learned. The establishment is carried on
+on ready money lines. Everything sent home is paid for at the
+servants' entrance. As a ready money customer Dr. Pye bears a good
+name in the neighbourhood.
+
+"I was not content with one visit to Dr. Pye to-day. At five o'clock I
+presented myself again--on official business. The same old woman
+opened the door. 'Dr. Pye at home?' 'Not at home.' 'I must see him.'
+'Not at home.' There was no chance of my putting my leg inside; the
+door was on the chain. 'I serve this notice upon him,' I said,
+thrusting the paper into the old woman's hand. 'It is an order for him
+to appear as a witness at the Bishop Street Police Court next Friday
+morning, the 22nd of March, at eleven o'clock, to give evidence in the
+case of the murder of Samuel Boyd.' The woman took the notice, and
+left me alone once more on the wrong side of the door.
+
+"I have treated Mr. Rawdon, the contentious juryman, to a sight of me
+on three separate occasions. Not a word have I addressed to him; I
+have simply given him to understand in a silent manner that he is
+under observation. He does understand it, and does not appear to be
+very comfortable.
+
+"Where is Mr. Dick Remington? He has not been seen by any of my people
+since Thursday last. Has he been spirited away? Is there any
+connection between his disappearance and the disappearance of Abel
+Death? To both questions I answer, no. The notice of his absence still
+remains on the house in Catchpole Square. Applebee informs me that the
+door of that house has not been opened from the day the notice was
+posted on it. He is keeping close watch upon the house, and I am
+keeping close watch upon him. When he makes a move, or discovers
+anything, I shall be at hand. Things can't remain in this quiet state
+much longer. Some time this week there will be a flare up. Don't you
+think so?"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+                   THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.
+
+
+While Detective Lambert was making these entries, events of which he
+had no suspicion were progressing in another quarter. Some premonition
+of startling incidents soon to happen must have been very strong
+within him, or he would not have been out of bed a couple of hours
+after midnight, prowling, in a safe disguise, in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square and Shore Street. Constable Applebee came across him
+twice without recognising him, although Lambert gave him every
+opportunity, asking him on both occasions the way to Holborn. Lambert
+apparently was the worse for drink, and Applebee would probably have
+had more to say to him, and might indeed have "run him in" as a
+suspicious character had it not been for the interest he took in the
+immediate neighbourhood of Samuel Boyd's house, to which particular
+spot he devoted more attention than was consistent with his duties on
+the space of ground covered by his beat. The second time Lambert asked
+him the way to Holborn, the constable proffered a sensible piece of
+advice, to the effect that the man would be better in bed, to which he
+was advised to go if he did not wish to get into trouble. "Is that
+your advice?" asked Lambert, with a tipsy lurch. "Yes, it is," replied
+Applebee, "and if you're not a born fool you'll take it." "I'd have
+you know," retorted Lambert, "that I'm a respectable mechanic, and my
+advice to you is not to be so cocky. I'd make as good a bobby as you
+any day in the week." This angered Applebee, but did not move him to
+retaliatory action, and Lambert walked off, laughing in his sleeve.
+His light mood did not last long. Dark clouds were coming into the
+sky; a few drops of rain fell. There was a flash of lightning and a
+clap of thunder. "We shall have a storm," he muttered.
+
+At that very moment Dr. Vinsen and Dr. Pye were closeted together, and
+events were approaching a climax. On the afternoon of that day Dr. Pye
+had received a note from his friend, announcing that he intended to
+pay him a visit at midnight. It was a strange hour to choose for a
+friendly call, and Dr. Pye was not pleased, but these men were in a
+certain sense dependent upon each other, and neither could just now
+afford to open up a quarrel; therefore, when Dr. Vinsen's summons at
+the street door was heard by Dr. Pye he went down himself and admitted
+his visitor. The interview was held at the back of the house, in the
+room with shuttered windows, from which a view of Samuel Boyd's house
+could be obtained.
+
+"It is a dangerous time for a visit," were Dr. Pye's first words.
+
+"By daylight," said Dr. Vinsen, "the danger would be greater. I took
+care to see, before I knocked, that there was no person in the street.
+Besides, I trust you as little as you trust me."
+
+"You have a reason for the remark," observed Dr. Pye.
+
+"I have, or I should not have made it. But let us be amicable--be
+a-mi-ca-ble. I am willing to converse in a spirit of confidence. You
+have wounded me by your suspicions, and you have a design which you
+are hiding from me--from me, your best friend. Has your spectre
+appeared again?"
+
+"An hour ago I saw it at the window."
+
+Dr. Vinsen looked at his host incredulously. Dr. Pye placed a portrait
+before him.
+
+"I took this negative last night; I developed it this morning. Do you
+recognise it?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen's face grew pale as he gazed at the portrait of Samuel
+Boyd.
+
+"Are you mad?" he asked, "or am I?"
+
+"Do not be alarmed," said Dr. Pye, calmly; "the man is not there. It
+is the picture of a vision, and is one step farther in our knowledge
+of the power of the human will. When I received your letter this
+afternoon I determined that I would search the house to-night in your
+company; or, if you prefer it, I will search alone."
+
+"No; it shall be in my company. I am not afraid of ghosts."
+
+Dr. Pye smiled scornfully.
+
+"You turned white at the sight of the picture."
+
+"A momentary discomposure, nothing more. I do not deny that I have not
+your iron nerve. I am very human, my friend;--ve-ry hu-man."
+
+"Drop the mask," said Dr. Pye, sternly. "I am sick of your whining.
+Will you have some wine?"
+
+"Something stronger than wine."
+
+"To fortify yourself for a meeting with our spectre?" Dr. Pye laughed
+in derision, and produced a decanter of brandy, to which his visitor
+helped himself liberally. From the bottom of a cupboard he took a
+cobwebbed bottle of wine, which he handled and opened very carefully.
+He smiled as he held the glass up to the light, and then drank it
+slowly, as if it were really the elixir of life which popular rumour
+credited him with searching for. "I would give much," he said, "for
+that store of old wine which Samuel Boyd left behind him. Had it not
+been for you I would have had every bottle in this house."
+
+"And so risked discovery," said Dr. Vinsen. "As it was you courted
+danger by taking two bottles to gratify your insane tastes."
+
+"I have courted greater dangers and escaped them. You are too
+cautious, my friend. All my life I have found safety in boldness. You
+accuse me of withholding from your knowledge a design which I have in
+view. What design?"
+
+"In good time, my very dear friend. There are other matters first.
+Before we go into them, a question. Does your patient remain in the
+same state?"
+
+"There is no change in him."
+
+"He will disclose nothing?"
+
+"His mind is a blank."
+
+"That is the result of your fine plan," said Dr. Vinsen, with a sneer.
+"Perhaps you will acknowledge that my plan was the best--to silence
+him and leave him in the cellar."
+
+"I acknowledge nothing. The reasonable presumption was that he could
+have given us a clue. Time enough then to have silenced him. As it
+happens he has failed to be of service to us."
+
+"How will you dispose of him now without drawing suspicion upon you?"
+
+"Upon us, you mean." Dr. Vinsen shifted uneasily upon his seat. "I
+will find a way, and you shall share the risk." He smiled as he added,
+"I will insure your safety for a small premium, so we will not waste
+time in recrimination. Come to the 'other matters' you have referred
+to, and of which I am as yet in ignorance."
+
+"Not quite in ignorance, my friend. Surely I have prepared you, surely
+I have been patient. I decline to be placed in a false light." He took
+out a pocketbook and laid it on the table, guarding it with his hand.
+"I have a conscience; I must justify myself even in your eyes."
+
+"Is it worth while to make the attempt?"
+
+"I think so; I really think so. I must lay my head upon my pillow with
+my mind at ease--my mind at ease. You, with your lofty notions and
+your wild search for the unattainable, you with your spectres and
+visions, know little of the sufferings of a sensitive spirit such as
+mine."
+
+"Faugh! Is _this_ worth while?"
+
+"You have your ways, I have mine," said Dr. Vinsen, with a sly smile.
+"I must trouble you to listen while I go over the ground."
+
+"So be it. And if my suspicions are correct--and they generally are--I
+may trouble _you_ to listen while _I_ go over the ground."
+
+"It will be a pleasure. I think it is three years since you and I
+became acquainted. Correct me if I am wrong."
+
+"It is immaterial. Say three years--or thirty."
+
+"No, my friend; let us be exact. This is an affair of figures. It is
+three years since you wrote to me in acknowledgment of a circular you
+received from me. I had money to lend, you required a loan. I advanced
+you five hundred pounds."
+
+"Four."
+
+"Five, my friend, five. The odd hundred was deducted as payment of
+interest in advance."
+
+"Part payment."
+
+"You have an excellent memory. I need not go into the details. In the
+course of a few months you required more money and I advanced it to
+you."
+
+"Spare me the details of each transaction. Come to the point."
+
+"I will. Up to the present day you have had from me, in various sums,
+at various times, a total of three thousand pounds----"
+
+"In actual money, not half that."
+
+"Which, with interest added," continued Dr. Vinsen, alias Ezra Lynn,
+not troubling himself to argue the point, "amounts now to a trifle
+over five thousand pounds. Will you oblige me by looking over these
+figures and verifying them?"
+
+"No, I will take your word that they are correct, according to your
+reckoning."
+
+"I thank you for your confidence," said Dr. Vinsen, who did not,
+however, seem to appreciate this indifference. "It is not to be
+supposed that I advanced my hard-earned capital without some sort of
+security. You gave it to me in the shape of a bill of sale over these
+art treasures of yours, for which you have an absurd passion, and
+which I do not deny have a marketable value, and over every piece of
+portable property in this house. From time to time I have urged you to
+discharge the debt, wholly or in part, and my appeals have been
+disregarded. My dear friend, there is a time when one's patience
+becomes exhausted. Need I say more?"
+
+"Yes. You are only in the middle of the chapter. Samuel Boyd has to be
+introduced. Proceed."
+
+"At your wish," said Dr. Vinsen, with evident reluctance. "Some six
+weeks ago, when I was pressing you for repayment, you made mention to
+me----"
+
+"Stop. When you were pressing me for repayment and threatening to sell
+me up--you left out the latter clause."
+
+"You made mention to me of a plan, which would not only enable you to
+repay me what you owed me, but would result to our mutual advantage.
+You had, you said, secret access to the house of Samuel Boyd, who was
+in the habit of keeping there considerable sums of money, of which it
+would be easy to obtain possession. Without risk, without danger. You
+laid particular stress upon that."
+
+"I did," said Dr. Pye, and the inscrutable smile which accompanied the
+words did not add to his confederate's composure.
+
+"You needed a partner in the execution of your plan, a sleeping
+partner, you said, who would have nothing to do but to assist in
+removing the cash and valuables from his house to this, for which
+assistance he was to receive half the proceeds."
+
+"Say spoil."
+
+"The proceeds. I objected, not being willing to be a party to an act
+of personal violence. I am a peaceable man, and have made my money by
+peaceable means."
+
+"By peaceable fraud."
+
+"Why use harsh terms? All my transactions are legal, and protected by
+the law. In reply to my objection to a deed of violence you told me
+that you could in a moment render a sleeping man so utterly insensible
+and oblivious to all that was passing around him as to utterly remove
+every possible chance of risk. We were to enter the house when Samuel
+Boyd was asleep; you were to go into his chamber and render him
+insensible and unconscious."
+
+"While you remained outside," said Dr. Pye, still with the inscrutable
+smile on his lips, "in happy ignorance of the sleeping man's fate."
+
+"I object to these interruptions," said Dr. Vinsen, sulkily. "Finish
+the story your own way."
+
+"I will. I informed you that Samuel Boyd, for an unknown purpose of
+his own, had been for some weeks past withdrawing large sums of money
+from the bank, and had been selling securities, and that I expected he
+would have in his safe on the night of March the 1st several thousand
+pounds, of which I offered you half for the tame part you were to play
+in the robbery. Your cupidity was aroused; you could not resist the
+bait, and you consented to become my partner in the crime. You do not
+like the terms I use; they are the correct terms. I am no canting
+psalm-singer; when I commit a crime I accept the responsibility; I do
+not shirk and whine; and as for the penalty, trust me for evading it.
+It was arranged that out of my share of the spoil I was to pay you
+what I owed you, so that you had a double interest in the success of
+the plan. The night arrived, and you were here, jubilant, expectant,
+greedy for the gold, but yet with a craven cowardice for which I
+despised you. However, you screwed your courage to the sticking point,
+and when all the lights in Samuel Boyd's house were extinguished I
+showed you how I obtained access to the premises. We entered in
+silence, and undetected; we made our way up the stairs and entered the
+office which contained the safe. You shook like an aspen, and I left
+you in the office and went alone into the bedroom, carrying a light.
+At that very moment Samuel Boyd awoke and started up in bed before I
+had time to press upon his face the handkerchief which I had prepared
+to render him unconscious. He sprang from the bed, and the
+handkerchief fell from my hand. One cry escaped his lips--only one,
+for my hand was on his throat. But he was strong, a more powerful man
+than I had conceived him to be, and he struggled with me so
+determinedly that we stumbled together into the office, where you
+stood, white-faced and trembling. By some means he got hold of a
+pistol, and fired two shots. One bullet went into the wall, where it
+was found by our good friend Remington, evidence of which was given by
+him and Lambert the detective at the inquest. Where the other bullet
+went has not yet been discovered. I thought I was struck, and for a
+moment my hold on Samuel Boyd relaxed. His eyes fell upon you, and
+your name escaped his lips, which was the first intimation I received
+that you had had transactions with him. That roused you to action, for
+you knew that if he were left alive you were doomed. You sprang upon
+him, and bore him to the ground. Then it was two to one. Our hands
+were at his throat. Whose fingers gave him the _coup de grace?_"
+
+"Yours," said Dr. Vinsen, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Yours," said Dr. Pye, calmly, "as I am ready to testify on my oath.
+However it was, there lay Samuel Boyd, dead before our eyes. We came
+to commit a robbery; we had committed murder. As we stood gazing upon
+the dead body we heard a knock at the street door, and I thought you
+would have fainted, you were so terror struck. In a whisper you
+suggested flight; had your advice been followed we were lost, for
+there was no time to mask the means by which we had obtained access to
+the house. The knocking continued, and it was then that the
+opportunity was afforded me of displaying one of my talents. As a
+mimicker of voices I am unrivalled, and you are aware of my skill in
+another histrionic achievement. It was imperative that the summons
+should be answered, or the neighbourhood might have been aroused. I
+seized your hand, my dear accomplice in crime, and we descended to the
+street door. Mimicking Samuel Boyd's voice I inquired who was there.
+The reply was, 'It is I, sir, Abel Death. For God's sake let me speak
+to you!' Fearing the result if the demand was not complied with I drew
+the bolt and the chain, and dragged the man in; and as he entered you
+struck him with such force that he fell to the ground senseless. I
+have never inquired why you struck him."
+
+"It was an impulse of passion," said Dr. Vinsen, in a faltering voice.
+
+"Foist those subterfuges upon weaker men. I did not inquire because I
+knew. You held the candle above your head, and Abel Death saw your
+face, as the man we had murdered had done, and recognised you, as he
+had done. Why do you wince? We did murder him, comrade in crime, and
+are both liable to the law for the deed." Quietly as he spoke he
+seemed to take delight in associating Dr. Vinsen with himself in the
+ruthless work. "Your thought, when you struck Abel Death down, was
+that if he were allowed to go free he would be able to give evidence
+against you."
+
+"And against you."
+
+"Thanks for your consideration of me, but I can see to my own safety
+without aid from such as you. When yours is imperilled there is
+something of the savage in you; I give you credit for so much
+manliness. You would have killed him where he lay."
+
+"Had you made an end of him," said Dr. Vinsen, morosely----
+
+"Or had you done it," interrupted Dr. Pye. "Why give me all the honour
+of the task we were engaged upon?"
+
+"His tongue would have been silenced for ever," concluded Dr. Vinsen,
+"and we should have been safe."
+
+"I am not so sure of that. Anyway I deemed it prudent that he should
+live till we had made search for Samuel Boyd's treasure. If that
+search had been successful I might have handed the poor clerk over to
+your tender mercy. But it was not successful. In the safe we found a
+paltry two hundred pounds, and bills, and documents, and books of
+accounts. The books were valuable to us, for if they had fallen into
+other hands, it would have been seen that we were both indebted to the
+man we killed. Among the bills were many of mine, and some of yours.
+It was not till then that I learned you owed him money; and your
+motive for joining me in the robbery was partly explained. The books
+and bills destroyed, and the man dead, your indebtedness to him was
+cancelled. You are a cunning dog, Ezra Lynn. There were also Lord
+Wharton's bills, which, I fear, are valueless to us."
+
+"You have not kept them!" cried Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"I have, and every document we took away."
+
+"But they implicate _me!_"
+
+"It is perhaps for that reason I have not destroyed them," said Dr.
+Pye, coolly. "We sink or swim together, Ezra Lynn, so long as we
+remain in England. Among the documents was the list of Lady Wharton's
+jewels, and a statement of how Samuel Boyd became possessed of them,
+with other statements which informed us that he was expected to
+present himself at Bournemouth on the following Wednesday, with the
+fifteen hundred pounds he had arranged to advance to her. But where
+were the jewels? We hunted for them in vain, and to this hour have
+been unable to lay hands upon them, although we know they must be
+there."
+
+"They may not be. The burglar who broke into the house on the night
+you went to Bournemouth may have found them."
+
+"No. What we could not find he did not find. On the night I went to
+Bournemouth!" said Dr. Pye, and for the first time a laugh escaped
+him. "Tell me another man who could have so successfully imposed upon
+her ladyship, who would have had the audacity to carry out a deception
+so hazardous? Do you not feel proud in having a partner so bold and
+daring? Judge by that of what I am capable, and whether I am fitted to
+hold command. After what I have seen these five nights past, the image
+of Samuel Boyd, who lies dead in his grave, would any other man have
+the hardihood to enter that house? I am a stranger to fear, Ezra Lynn.
+When our conversation is ended we make search for the lost jewels; it
+may be the last chance we shall have. To finish the story of that
+Friday night before you disclose what is in your mind. I made Abel
+Death secure by plunging him into a state of insensibility from which
+it was impossible for him to recover till late the following day, and
+then we removed the books and papers, leaving behind us one document
+which fixed the guilt of the murder upon Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+"How is it," asked Dr. Vinsen, "that that accusation has not been
+produced?"
+
+"There are more ways than one of accounting for it. The man who made
+the burglarious entrance into the house may have seized the papers we
+left upon the table, in the expectation that he could turn them to
+profit, to discover later that to produce them would be putting
+himself into the criminal dock; or it may be that Mr. Richard
+Remington appropriated the document and destroyed it, out of regard
+for Inspector Robson's family, and probably also because he believes
+in Mr. Reginald Boyd's innocence. Hark! Do you hear the thunder? A
+storm is approaching. All the better for our purpose. It is two
+o'clock, and we have little time to waste. I will make short work of
+the conclusion of that night's proceedings. At your suggestion we
+placed the body of Samuel Boyd comfortably in its bed, and cleared
+away all traces of the struggle. Your argument was that, as it would
+become known that Mr. Reginald Boyd visited his father that night, it
+would be supposed he had adopted the expedient to make it appear that
+the murdered man died a natural death, and so avert suspicion from
+himself. It was a lame argument, for the marks of our fingers were on
+his throat, but I humoured you, as we humour a child who asks a
+harmless question. The last thing we did was to carry Abel Death from
+the house. Some days afterwards we learned that Mr. Richard Remington
+was taking an active interest in the disappearance of the clerk, and
+for the purpose of ascertaining to what extent he was in communication
+with Mrs. Death you introduced yourself to her under the false name,
+by which you are known to her and to him. I raised no objection to the
+plan; the risk was yours, and I was willing that you should run it.
+You used my name without my authority, and I understand why you did
+so. It was to make me a partner in the risk, was it not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dr. Vinsen, sullenly.
+
+"An honest confession. You feared that I should shirk the consequences
+of our crime--let us call it by its usual name--to which you attach so
+much importance. You are mistaken; I am ready to meet them, always,
+always ready. I have overcome greater dangers, have steered my way
+safely over rocks and quicksands far more perilous. Shall I
+recapitulate the particulars of a later incident in this affair? That
+it chanced that one of the men summoned on the jury was a person who
+owed you money which he could not pay; that you held him so completely
+in your power that you could bring worldly ruin upon him; that you
+entered into a conspiracy with him to use his influence with his
+brother jurymen in order that a verdict of wilful murder against
+Reginald Boyd should be returned; that you----"
+
+"Enough of that," interposed Dr. Vinsen. "Surely it is not necessary
+to go into these details."
+
+"A statement of them refreshes the memory; it is important not to lose
+sight of the smallest incident in this complex matter--but as you
+will. And now, my worthy partner, before we proceed to the house that
+faces this window, explain what you mean by saying that your patience
+is exhausted, and by your threat with reference to the art treasures I
+have gathered, which I value as I value my life?"
+
+"You have had a large sum of money from me," said Dr. Vinsen,
+doggedly. "I claim my own. The debt must be discharged."
+
+"And if payment is impossible just now?"
+
+"I cannot wait any longer."
+
+"Shall we say you will not?"
+
+"You goad me to it. I will not."
+
+"But it happens that you must wait my pleasure--aye, _must!_ Ezra
+Lynn, you little know the man upon whose fate yours depends, and who
+would have no more compunction in striking you dead where you
+sit than in plucking the leaves from a rose. You would rob me of my
+treasures--the treasures I have purchased with blood. Not while I
+live--not while I live. Here is beauty that I can worship, the work of
+the great masters of the past, exquisite colour and perfect form, in
+the production of which genius toiled with a divine end in view. If my
+history ever becomes known the world will read the story of a man who
+greatly dared, of one who loved beauty in its every shape and form, of
+one who, unblessed with wealth, stopped at no crime to gain it, in
+order to follow his star, and who, when all was lost--if such a fate
+befall him--defied his enemies and defeated them in the moment of
+their victory. You start at the word crime. It is a common word, and I
+use it in the common sense, but not in the sense in which _I_ view it.
+All things are justified to men who dare as I have dared. What is the
+sacrifice of a human life in the endeavour to wrest nature's sublime
+secrets from her breast? Man wars with man, and strews the battlefield
+with the slain. Is that called a crime? We glorify it, we sing hymns
+to it, the church cries 'Hosanna!' and its priests praise the Lord of
+Hosts who crowned our banners with victory. If victory crown mine--and
+it may yet, in the teeth of all obstacles--so shall I be praised and
+glorified. Crime! There is no such word to the victor. I laugh at the
+law that would make a criminal of a hero. Not for the first time shall
+I have successfully defied it."
+
+He paused, and smiled scornfully as a flash of lightning pierced a
+chink in the window, which he instantly unshuttered.
+
+"We may be seen!" cried Dr. Vinsen, catching his arm.
+
+He took no heed of the warning, but stood at the window, and smiled
+again at the peal of thunder at the lightning's heels. Whether the
+words he had uttered were or were not the ravings of a madman, it was
+clear that he was terribly in earnest.
+
+"It is but a commencement of the storm," he said presently, in a
+calmer tone, turning from the window. "There is still something
+further to explain. You accused me of concealing a design from you."
+
+Dr. Vinsen fortified himself with brandy before replying. His nerves
+were shaken, and the liquor gave him courage.
+
+"Why have you had two travelling trunks made, and inscribed with the
+name of Corsi?"
+
+"Ah, you have discovered that. It is the name I shall assume when I
+leave these shores for another country. The trunks, as you have
+doubtless observed, are specially constructed for the safe transport
+of works of art."
+
+"I forbid you to remove them," cried Dr. Vinsen. "They no longer
+belong to you."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"How so?" echoed Dr. Vinsen. "You will not deny your signature?"
+
+"No, I will not deny it."
+
+"By this document," said Dr. Vinsen, taking a paper from his
+pocket-book, "which I had duly stamped on the day you signed it, they
+became my property if, in six months from that date, you had not
+discharged your debt to me. The six months expired to-day."
+
+
+"Pause a moment before you open it. When did you read it last?"
+
+"Yesterday, and put it in my pocket-book to bring here to-night."
+
+"If my memory does not play me false, the date was the 18th of
+September, 1897. I did not approve of the document you asked me to
+sign, and you wrote another at this table, worded somewhat
+differently. One hundred and eighty-three days have elapsed since
+then. I am curious to see if I timed it correctly. Open the paper."
+
+Dr. Vinsen unfolded it, and started in amazement. The paper was blank,
+nothing appearing on it but the red Government stamp.
+
+"It was a vulgar trick," said Dr. Pye. "You wrote and I signed, not in
+ink which gradually fades, but which suddenly disappears at an
+appointed hour. Content yourself, my worthy friend, and thank me for
+saving you from a danger which would have sent you to the hulks. Had
+you attempted to dispose of these gems to a dealer in any European
+city you would have been immediately arrested. They have been bought
+with blood, and there is not a police court that has not a list of
+them. Priceless treasures! Here are vases, medallions, and bronzes of
+Benvenuto Cellini, for which collectors would give thousands of
+guineas, and every one known throughout the civilised world. That
+wondrous artificer saw visions, as I do, and his progress was marked
+with blood, as mine has been. Content yourself, I say; when I make my
+fortune you shall be paid, and if we discover the jewels to-night you
+shall have the lion's share. Now, follow me, if you have the courage."
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+Noiseless footsteps on the dark stairs, noiseless footsteps in the
+passages--the footsteps of men in their stocking feet. They reach the
+landing on which Samuel Boyd's bedroom and office are situated.
+
+The storm rages without, tearing through the Square with fierce,
+shrieking moans and cries, like a forest of wild beasts in pain. There
+is a leak in the roof of the house, and the men within it, when there
+is a lull, hear the raindrops falling, pat, pat, pat. One of the men
+shudders at a terrifying thought, born of the memory of a night when a
+murder was committed there. If a human being were on the roof, stabbed
+to the heart, so might _his_ life's blood drip through the aperture.
+In the terrified man's fancy he sees the red stains on the floor, sees
+them spread through the air, though nothing is visible in his actual
+sight. A muffled cry escapes him.
+
+"Hush!" From the other man. "Do not raise your voice above a whisper."
+
+"Why not?" From the trembling man. "There is no one here but
+ourselves."
+
+"Fool! The house may be watched. Why do you shrink from me? Are you
+afraid?"
+
+"No." But the speaker's lips and face are white. "Can we not have a
+light?"
+
+"Not here. I have matches and a candle with me. There is a screen in
+the office--here is the door--step in, softly, softly! Now, help me
+move the screen before the window. Come, ghost, spectre, or vision,
+show yourself!"
+
+
+"For God's sake, stop!"
+
+"Coward! Ah, that lightning flash! And now the thunder! Listen to the
+rain. It is a deluge."
+
+They stoop and light the candle, crouching by the writing-table.
+
+"Keep the light near the ground. The window is masked, but if the
+candle is raised its glimmer might be seen from the Square. Move this
+way. Nearer to this dumb image of wax in its hooded chair. It would be
+a rare achievement to breathe life into it, to compel it to speak, and
+reveal where the treasure we seek is hidden."
+
+So low are their voices that it would be impossible for any person
+acquainted with the speakers to recognise them by that sound. They are
+standing at the back of the hooded chair, and the waxwork figure of
+the Chinaman, with its fixed and pallid face, stares straight at
+vacancy.
+
+"Speak!" whispers the bolder of the two, in savage derision, and
+shakes the chair--so violently that the Charles the Second cane it
+holds in its hand slips and falls to the ground.
+
+"I recall a story," he continues, picking up the stick, and still in a
+whispered voice, "of a treasure of great value being concealed for
+generations in a cane like this. If this were hollow it could be used
+for just such a purpose. What are these protuberances round the rim?
+Hold the light closer, closer! A circlet of old English letters."
+
+By accident he presses one of the letters, and as he does so is
+conscious of a movement in the silver knob at the top of the cane.
+Bending over it he sees that the letter he pressed is B, and that the
+pressure has caused the figure 2 to spring up on the surface of the
+knob.
+
+"B, the second letter in the alphabet, stands for 2," he whispers
+excitedly. "The last words written by Samuel Boyd on the memorandum
+which would send his son to the gallows if it were found, were
+'Notation 2647.' The sixth letter in the alphabet is F." He presses
+the letter, and the figure 6 appears on the knob. "Ha, ha! The fourth
+letter, D." He presses that, and the figure 4 appears, the figures now
+ranging 264. "The seventh letter, G. The notation is complete--2647!"
+
+Such perfect control did the speaker have over himself that even in
+that moment of excitement his voice does not rise above a whisper.
+Both men are now in a standing posture, the discoverer of the simple
+cryptogram holding the cane.
+
+"Now for the test," he says, and with the ball of his broad thumb he
+presses hard upon the four figures. A click is heard. The silver knob
+springs up.
+
+"The jewels!" he whispers, exultantly. "They are here--they are here!
+See!"
+
+In the utterance of the word a vivid flash of lightning illumines the
+room, and one man utters a startled exclamation, the other a frenzied
+shriek, for in that momentary flash they see the figure of the
+Chinaman rise suddenly from its chair. The candle is dashed to the
+ground, enveloping them in black darkness, and the cane, with its
+concealed treasure, is plucked from the hand that held it!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIX.
+
+               CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
+
+
+Constable Applebee, seeking shelter from the storm beneath the roof of
+Deadman's Court, kept his face and his thoughts in the direction of
+Samuel Boyd's house, for such complete possession had the mystery
+taken of him that lightning, wind, and rain were powerless to drive it
+from his mind. Besides which, as he afterwards informed his wife, he
+had a presentiment that "something was going to happen." The latest
+flash of lightning caused him to clap his hand instinctively upon his
+eyes; the crash of thunder that followed caused him to drop his hand.
+Then, as though the elements had exhausted themselves, there was a
+sudden hush, for the sound of the fast-falling rain was faint in his
+ears after the deafening thunderpeal. So faint, indeed, that, in the
+belief that the storm was spent, he stepped into Catchpole Square and
+looked around, distinguishing only the outlines of the buildings
+because of the darkness of the night. Almost on the instant the door
+of Samuel Boyd's house was violently opened, and a man rushed out,
+slamming it behind him. With such frantic haste did he run that he
+came into collision with the constable, and both were nearly upset.
+They recovered their equilibrium simultaneously, and before the man
+could get his breath Applebee proved himself equal to the occasion.
+
+"Easy, there!" he exclaimed, and with one hand caught the man by the
+throat, while with the other he raised his whistle to his lips, and
+blew a loud and vigorous summons for assistance.
+
+"Let me go!" cried the man, struggling to get free. "Come into the
+house with me--quick, quick, or the murderers will escape!"
+
+"_You_ don't escape," said Applebee. "Keep still, or I'll knock you on
+the head." And he tightened his hand on the man's throat.
+
+At this moment his summons for assistance was answered by the
+respectable mechanic who had twice inquired the way to Holborn.
+"What's up?" he inquired.
+
+Applebee pulled out his bull's eye lamp, and turned its light upon the
+new arrival. "Oh, it's you," he said. "I call upon you in the Queen's
+name to assist me in arresting this man."
+
+"Right you are," replied Lambert, in the half tipsy voice of the
+mechanic.
+
+"Are you mad?" cried the man. "They will escape, I tell you! Come with
+me into that house!"
+
+"Keep still!" growled Applebee, shaking his captive roughly.
+
+"What do you charge him with?" asked Lambert, keeping up the fiction.
+
+"Murder," said Applebee. "The murder of Samuel Boyd!"
+
+"That's a find," said Lambert. "Let's have a look at him." And to the
+constable's astonishment he also pulled out a bull's-eye lamp.
+
+"Who are you?" demanded Applebee.
+
+"My name is Lambert," said the detective, dropping his disguise.
+
+"I might have guessed it; but don't forget that _I_ made this arrest."
+
+"You shall have the credit of it." The light of two bull's-eye lamps
+was thrown upon the man's face. "By George! It's Dick Remington."
+
+"Absent on business," observed Applebee, sarcastically. "The murder's
+out. What's that he's dropped?" Lambert picked it up. "A mask!"
+
+It was the mask of a Chinaman's face; and moreover, Dick's outer
+garment was that of a Mongolian, resembling the garment of the wax
+figure in the office from which but a few minutes ago he had escaped.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Lambert, look here, Applebee," said Dick, eagerly----
+
+"Stop, Dick Remington," interrupted Lambert. "Don't you think you had
+better shut your mouth? We're bound to take you to the station, and
+charge you. When you're brought before the magistrate you can tell
+your story if you like. Take my advice."
+
+"So far as my story is concerned I will," said Dick, "but in that
+house are the murderers of Samuel Boyd. For heaven's sake don't leave
+the place without arresting them!"
+
+"If he gets us into the house," remarked Applebee, "we're done for."
+
+"We shall be three to two," urged Dick, despairingly.
+
+"If your story's true," corrected Applebee, "we shall be two to three.
+What's this in your hand? A sword-stick?"
+
+"No," said Dick, and his heart fell; he was beginning to realise the
+danger he was in, "it is not a weapon. I will explain everything at
+the proper time. Mr. Lambert, I implore you to search that house."
+
+"Constable Applebee has spoken like a careful and sensible man," said
+Lambert, "but we'll see if we can equalise matters." Taking his police
+call from his pocket he sent his summons through Deadman's Court.
+"Blow yours, too, Applebee."
+
+The first to answer the call was Constable Pond, to whom the affair
+was hastily explained; and presently they were joined by another
+officer.
+
+"I see no harm in humouring Mr. Remington," then said Lambert. "Pond,
+you and this officer keep watch in the Square while we go into the
+house. There's only one way out of it, and there's only one way out of
+the Square."
+
+"There's the wall at the back," said Dick.
+
+"Which they've got over before this time----"
+
+"Supposing," Applebee put in, "there was anyone to get over it."
+
+"Yes, supposing that. When daylight comes we shall be able to
+ascertain if there are any fresh marks of a grapnel there." Dick set
+his teeth; his rope and grapnel were under the bed of his room in
+Constable Pond's house. "You wish to go into the house with us, Mr.
+Remington?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We must handcuff you. Give me the stick." He took possession of it,
+and Dick, with a groan, held out his hands. "Behind your back, Mr.
+Remington. I am sorry for the necessity, but there's no help for it.
+There, that's comfortable. Have you the key of the street door?"
+
+"In my trousers' pocket."
+
+Lambert put his hand beneath Dick's outer garment, and took the key
+from the pocket. Then he showed his revolver. "If we're attacked,
+Applebee, I'll account for the two men. Now, then." He opened the
+door. "You go first, Mr. Remington. Applebee, keep behind me, and be
+prepared."
+
+Throwing light upon their way with their bull's-eye lamps the two
+officers, preceded by Dick, ascended the stairs to the office. No
+person was there, nor in the bedroom. They went through all the rooms
+in the upper part of the house, with the same result. Lambert's
+experienced eye sought diligently for some sign of the presence of the
+men Dick had spoken of, but without success.
+
+"A trumped-up story," said Applebee aside to him, "but _I_ knew that
+all along."
+
+Lambert made no reply, but turned to Dick, "Anywhere else, Mr.
+Remington?"
+
+"The bottom of the house," replied Dick. Hope was dying within him. He
+knew that he would be searched at the police station, and that, in
+addition to other incriminating evidence, there would be found in his
+pocket the last words written by Samuel Boyd, the production of which
+would be fatal to Reginald. "Fool!" he thought. "Why have I kept it
+about me? Why did I not destroy it?"
+
+"Is there a cellar?" asked Lambert.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I draw the line at cellars," objected Applebee.
+
+"We will go there," said Lambert curtly, and the constable was
+compelled to accompany them.
+
+"There is a trap door leading to the cellar," said Dick, hopelessly,
+when they reached the kitchen, for he saw that it had not been
+disturbed since he had last lifted it himself. Lambert raised it, and
+let himself down; ascending, he shook the dust from his clothes.
+
+"A regular rat hole," he said. "There's no one there."
+
+"Nor anywhere else," said Applebee, sulkily. "We're only wasting time.
+Let's get to the station."
+
+Caught, as it were, in a trap of his own preparing, Dick conveyed to
+Lambert, in one of those secret glances which to an intelligent mind
+are as good as speech, an entreaty for a private word.
+
+"Remain outside a minute, Applebee," said Lambert, as they stood in
+the passage leading to the street door. "There's something I wish to
+ask Mr. Remington."
+
+Applebee would have refused if he dared, but Lambert's standing in the
+force was too high, and the part he had played in the mystery too
+conspicuous, for him to venture opposition, so, with a dissatisfied
+mind and a discontented face, he walked slowly forward, and waited in
+the Square by the street door.
+
+"This is a bad business, Dick," said Lambert, becoming familiar. His
+kind tone brought tears into the young man's eyes.
+
+"It is even worse than it appears," said Dick, "as you will discover
+when we reach the station. You might take the handcuffs off, Mr.
+Lambert. I'll go quietly." Lambert instantly released him. "Thank you.
+Handle that cane gently, and carry it upright, if you don't care to
+entrust me with it. You will know why soon. It is worth more than its
+weight in gold. Do you think I have been lying?" Lambert stroked his
+chin. "It is an unfair question, perhaps. I'll answer it myself. As I
+hope for mercy from our heavenly Judge I have spoken the truth."
+
+"Who were the men you left in the office? Don't say unless you like,
+and don't speak one word that will tell against yourself. Understand
+me--I sha'n't use anything to your disadvantage unless I have the best
+of reasons for it. And don't _mis_understand me. I intend to do my
+duty without regard to consequences. After all, the proper course is
+silence."
+
+"I _must_ speak. I don't know for certain who the men were. You see my
+dress and the mask I dropped. I had it made in Covent Garden, and
+partly helped to make it myself. I have been in this house since
+Friday night last, and have sat in that Chinaman's chair whenever I
+heard a sound outside the room, made up to resemble him. I acted
+another part, too--I could smile at it if it wasn't for what I see
+before me. There's new misery in store for those I love best in the
+world, and it is I who will bring it home to them."
+
+"Be a man, Dick, be a man."
+
+"It is because I _am_ a man that I feel it as I do. I have been
+working to save them, and as likely as not I have brought destruction
+upon them. I waited for my chance in this house, and to-night it came;
+and it has been spoilt at the last moment by a----"
+
+"By a man who was doing his duty," said Lambert, persuasively. "I am
+sure that is what you were going to say. Did you not see the men?"
+
+"I could not. They were at the back of the hooded chair all the time,
+and of course I didn't dare to turn my head, or they'd have stuck a
+knife in me. Do you think I'm clever enough to have invented the
+story?" he asked pathetically.
+
+"I think you are clever enough to invent anything," replied Lambert.
+He had great admiration for the young fellow, and great sympathy with
+him; notwithstanding which he would not commit himself. "Be quick.
+I've no time to listen to a long story; Applebee will be getting
+impatient. Didn't you hear their voices?"
+
+"I could not distinguish them. They spoke in whispers, and I only
+caught a word here and there. But I suspect--I suspect----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I more than suspect. I believe them to be Dr. Pye and the wretch
+Vinsen, who is no doctor, but a money-lender named Ezra Lynn, in
+league with that scoundrel of a juryman, Rawdon."
+
+"I know all about Ezra Lynn and Rawdon. How did the men you suspect
+get out of the house?"
+
+"I cannot tell. There is some awful mystery yet to be brought to
+light. _I_ hoped to do it, but now I shall be deprived of my
+liberty----" He groaned, and clasped his hands convulsively. "Mr.
+Lambert, our only hope is in you. You want to see justice done, don't
+you?"
+
+"I _will_ see it done," said Lambert, sternly.
+
+"Don't be misled--don't be thrown off the right track! However strong
+appearances may be against me, and against Reginald Boyd, I swear, by
+all we hold most sacred, that we are both innocent!"
+
+"Isn't it time we were moving, Mr. Lambert," called Applebee, from
+without.
+
+"In one moment, Applebee."
+
+"Must I be taken to Bishop Street Station?" asked Dick.
+
+"We daren't take you to another," replied Lambert, gravely. "It will
+be a terrible shock to Inspector Robson."
+
+"My poor uncle! I would give my right hand if it could be spared him.
+What will he think--what will his dear wife and daughter think?" Dick
+was suffering physically as well as mentally; he had not tasted food
+for twenty hours.
+
+Again Applebee's voice was heard from without.
+
+"A last word," said Lambert, hurriedly. "My duty will be performed,
+whatever happens; no consideration will be allowed to interfere with
+its proper performance. There will be a search warrant. I don't ask
+you if there is anything in your room in Pond's house that will tell
+against you--don't speak; I will not listen--I don't ask you that. If
+anything is found it will be brought forward without fear or favour,
+and evidence given in a straightforward manner. But it may console you
+to know, quite privately and confidentially"--Dick nodded--"that I am
+working up a case against the men whose names you mentioned, and that
+if I succeed you may not be the worse off for it. Give me your word
+that you will keep this to yourself. Enough said. We're ready,
+Applebee."
+
+Pond and his fellow constable, reporting that no person had passed
+through the Square, received instructions to keep watch, one in the
+front, the other at the back of the house until they were relieved,
+and to arrest all suspicious characters. Then Lambert, Applebee, and
+Dick, walked to the Bishop Street Station.
+
+Inspector Robson's face was worn and anxious, and when he saw Dick and
+heard the charge it became haggard. He held up his hand, as if
+imploring a short respite of silence, and they averted their eyes
+until he spoke. Raising their heads, a dead white face confronted
+them, its lips sternly compressed. He did not avoid their glance, but
+it was noticeable that not for a single moment did his own rest upon
+his nephew. "That is a man," thought Lambert, "who would go straight
+to his death at the call of duty. It makes one proud to be an
+Englishman." They were all very grave as, without faltering, he took
+down the charge at the dictation of Constable Applebee.
+
+"Before I am searched," said Dick, "I may be allowed to speak, I
+suppose."
+
+"I would not," advised Lambert.
+
+"But I will, if I am not prevented by force. To be silent would be an
+admission of guilt, and I am innocent. I wish all in this place to
+hear my story, every word of which is true."
+
+There was no one in the office except those immediately concerned,
+Lambert, when they entered, having taken the precaution to order the
+constable in attendance outside. In a voice shaken by emotion, but
+weak from want of rest and food, Dick related as briefly as possible
+the particulars of the part he had played in the mystery. He himself
+emptied his pockets, and handed the document falsely incriminating
+Reginald to his uncle.
+
+"I kept these matters to myself," he said, "because I saw that there
+was a strong case of circumstantial evidence against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, and that the knowledge I had gained would strengthen it. Had I
+revealed at the inquest what I knew nothing could have prevented a
+verdict of wilful murder against him being returned. Convinced of his
+innocence my aim was to spare him and those he loved the agony which
+this additional evidence would have caused them. I felt that time was
+required to bring the guilt home to those who had committed the crime,
+and to that task I bent all my energies. I may have erred, but I acted
+for the best, as I believed, and as I still believe; for even now I do
+not despair that the truth will be made known. As to what that hollow
+cane contains I am as ignorant as yourselves, except that before I
+snatched it from the hands of the men who were searching the room I
+heard one of them say, 'The jewels! They are here--they are here!' If
+I had been left at liberty I should have hunted the wretches down, but
+now----"
+
+He had spoken under the influence of intense excitement, but sleepless
+nights, hunger, and the consciousness of the torture which his uncle
+Rob was undergoing, overpowered him here, and with a pitiable
+endeavour to continue, he broke completely down. A long deep sigh
+escaped him, and he sank into the arms of Lambert, who had expected
+and was waiting for the collapse. In this state he was conveyed to a
+cell.
+
+An examination of the contents of the cane made Applebee open his eyes
+wide with astonishment. Lambert had in his pocket a list of the jewels
+which Lady Wharton had given Samuel Boyd on the night of the murder,
+and he ticked them off as Inspector Robson entered them on the charge
+sheet.
+
+"You will understand, Constable Applebee," said Lambert, when the
+business was concluded, "that what passes in Inspector Robson's office
+is not public property. The arrest is not to be spoken of outside. I
+have heard it said in high quarters that there is too much babbling
+and boasting among certain members of the force. If it continues
+severe measures will be resorted to."
+
+"I understand, Mr. Lambert," replied Applebee, with the air of an
+injured being. Before they reached the police station he had been
+inclined to regard himself as a hero, but his reception had not
+pleased him, and he returned to his beat in a state of mind not
+exactly amiable. He soon consoled himself, however. "It's jealousy,
+that's what it is," he said to himself. "He's riled because he didn't
+make the arrest, and can't claim the reward. If it belongs to anybody
+it belongs to me, and if they try to do me out of it I'll go to law
+with them. There's nothing that I know of in the regulations to keep
+it from me. Anyway, there's the reward for the jewels, and it's me
+that found them. Her ladyship wouldn't be mean enough to go from her
+word." Thus did Applebee muse, and thus does Mammon poison many a
+man's nature. For Applebee had always been an inoffensive, harmless,
+kindly man, but the glare of gold had brought into play the baser part
+of him.
+
+Despite Lambert's warning, which had been given partly out of
+consideration for the feelings of Inspector Robson, a whisper of the
+arrest, and, more or less true, of the incidents connected with it,
+did get about, and the excitement in the neighbourhood of Bishop
+Street Police Station, where great numbers of people congregated in
+the hope of catching sight of Dick, was no less than on the preceding
+Friday, when proceedings against Reginald were commenced.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LX.
+
+                 FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.
+
+
+                     _Tuesday, March 19th_, 1896.
+
+"Dick Remington brought before the magistrate this morning. Court
+crowded, proceedings very brief. Formal evidence of the arrest only
+was given, and Dick remanded till Friday, when he and Reginald Boyd
+will be brought up together. Mr. Pallaret was in court, and made a
+point of insisting that the case shall be fully gone into on Friday.
+He is hurrying the prosecution on, and doesn't intend to allow it to
+lag. Am not sure whether it is quite wise of him, but I could no more
+teach him his business than he could teach me mine. Dick looked
+better, and fairly self-possessed. The only time he seemed on the
+point of breaking down, as he broke down in the station, was when he
+looked in the direction of Mrs. Inspector Robson and Mrs. Reginald
+Boyd. They almost broke down, too. They were very white and miserable.
+Inspector Robson looked ten years older, but held up bravely. Mrs.
+Abel Death was there. When the case was over saw her talking excitedly
+to the Robsons. To my surprise she came up to me, and asked if I knew
+where her little daughter Gracie was. I did not know. She seemed in
+great distress. Mrs. Inspector Robson and her daughter avoided me, and
+I did not intrude myself upon them. Of course they regard me as their
+enemy. As it happens it may turn out I am their best friend. Don't you
+think so?
+
+"Coming away from the court played some good cards. One, a subp[oe]na
+on Dr. Vinsen, summoning him to appear as a witness on Friday. Left it
+at Dr. Pye's house. Asked to see Dr. Pye. 'Not at home.' Detailed two
+men to shadow the pair of them there. Travelling trunks were delivered
+at the house at eleven o'clock. My man caught sight of the name
+painted on them. Signer Corsi. Good. Preparing for a foreign trip. Not
+without my consent, Dr. Pye.
+
+"Second card. A subp[oe]na on Ezra Lynn, summoning _him_ to appear as
+a witness. I can't help laughing. He will be scratching his bald pate
+to get at the meaning of it. Let him scratch. Detailed a man to watch
+_his_ house, and follow him wherever he goes.
+
+"Third card. A subp[oe]na on Stephen Rawdon, requesting _his_
+attendance at the magistrate's court on Friday. I can see the sweat
+running down his face. Can't you? Did not detail a man to watch _his_
+movements. _He_ won't run away.
+
+"Three good shots.
+
+"Letter from friend Joseph Pitou in reply to mine of Friday last--this
+time in English. He is well up in languages, is friend Joseph. Says my
+man is his man, he believes. Expects to be in London on Thursday night
+or Friday morning. If so, he will be present in the magistrate's court
+on Friday, and will have a good view of our gentleman. Gives me a
+piece of information. Says that he had our gentleman in his custody
+once, and allowed him to slip through his fingers. Very stupid of you,
+friend Joseph. Says our gentleman is the kind of man who never forgets
+a face, and that when he sees friend Joseph we shall know from the
+start he will give what impression this meeting of old friends has
+upon him. I doubt it, Joseph. Our gentleman is the kind of man who
+never gives a start. A modern Sphinx, and, according to Joseph, as
+desperate a character as one would wish to put the darbies on.
+
+"Forgot to say that Lady Wharton was not in Court this morning. Her
+ladyship is in the country. She will present herself on Friday, to
+identify the jewels. Applebee expects to get the reward. Now, it was
+Dick Remington who found them. I mentioned this to Applebee, and made
+him uneasy. What a plucky chap that Dick is! As for his story, I
+believe every word of it. Friday will be a regular field day."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXI.
+
+         FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF THURSDAY, MARCH, 21st
+
+
+In view of the surprising turn the Mystery of Catchpole Square has
+taken, considerable interest was manifested in the proceedings at the
+Coroner's Court this morning, a large share of public attention being
+bestowed upon the juror who has taken so prominent a part in the
+inquiry. All the jurymen were in attendance at the appointed hour, and
+the Coroner, in a brief address, expressed the hope that a sensible
+and just verdict would now be returned. He would make no comment, he
+said, upon the singular differences of opinion between them, nor upon
+the no less singular and unusual form in which those differences were
+presented to him--contrary, he was bound to add, to all precedent and
+established modes of procedure. It would be obviously improper to make
+any comment upon the altered position of affairs; such alteration was
+not for their consideration, and should not be allowed to influence
+them. The verdict they returned should be strictly in accordance with
+the evidence that had been presented to them. He would now dismiss
+them to their duties.
+
+Upon this occasion, contrary to the general expectation, the jury
+remained in deliberation but a very short time. After a lapse of
+twenty minutes they agreed upon the verdict of Wilful Murder against
+some Person or Persons unknown, which, being received by the Coroner,
+the inquiry came to an end.
+
+In connection with this extraordinary case (new developments of which
+may be expected to-morrow at the Bishop Street Police Court), we may
+mention that no light has yet been thrown upon the disappearance of
+Mr. Abel Death. And in this connection we may further add that Mrs.
+Death is in deep distress at the disappearance of her young daughter
+Gracie, who has been absent from her home since Tuesday. Any person
+who can give information concerning her may address themselves to our
+Office, or to Mrs. Death, 7, Draper's Mews.
+
+We understand that some portion of Lady Wharton's jewels has been
+found, and that her ladyship will attend at the Police Court to-morrow
+to identify them.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXII.
+
+                      AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.
+
+
+There was an unusual bustle in the Bishop Street Police Court on
+Friday morning, every person who could gain admittance and every
+person in the crowds outside being on the tiptoe of expectation. Mr.
+Mallandaine, the magistrate, was in attendance early, and half-a-dozen
+minor cases of drunkenness were disposed of by eleven o'clock, before
+which time every seat was occupied, and there was not a vacant inch of
+standing room. If there had been any intention on the part of Dr. Pye
+and Mr. Ezra Lynn not to present themselves it was frustrated by the
+vigilance of Detective Lambert, who had stepped outside the boundary
+of his duties to secure their attendance. There was not a trace of
+discomposure on the countenance of Dr. Pye. In marked contrast to his
+composed demeanour was that of Mr. Ezra Lynn, who, while assuming an
+air of amused benevolence, was not entirely successful in concealing
+his inward agitation. No information had reached him as to whether he
+had been subp[oe]naed as a witness for the prosecution or the defence;
+he knew that this was irregular, but he did not dare disobey the
+summons. No token of recognition passed between him and Dr. Pye,
+although Lambert had man[oe]uvred that they should be seated next to
+each other. Immediately behind Dr. Pye sat an individual who might
+have been French or Italian; his swarthy complexion and curled
+moustache proclaimed him to be certainly not an Englishman. He took
+his seat, the position of which had also been arranged by Lambert,
+after the entrance of Dr. Pye, so that the former, who did not once
+turn his head, was not aware of his presence. Mr. Rawdon, the
+recalcitrant juror, was within hail, and manifestly as little at ease
+as Mr. Ezra Lynn. Near them sat Mrs. Abel Death, worn and haggard with
+anxiety, all her efforts to find Gracie having failed. Uncle and Aunt
+Rob and Florence were on another bench, and the eyes that rested on
+their suffering faces were filled with pity and kindly sympathy; and
+near them were seated Lady Wharton and her brother, Lord Fairfax. Mr.
+Higgins, in skull cap and list slippers, was also present.
+
+There was scarcely elbow-room at the long narrow table below the
+magistrate's chair. Mr. Finnis, Q.C., representing her ladyship, was
+there, and Mr. Marlow for the prosecution, and Mr. Pallaret for the
+defence, with the solicitors engaged in the case, and the newspaper
+reporters, who were so numerous that accommodation could not be found
+for more than half of them; those who could not obtain seats stood at
+the back, and plied their pencils industriously.
+
+A buzz of excitement ran through the Court as Reginald and Dick
+appeared in the dock. They were ushered in separately, and this was
+the first time they had met since Reginald's arrest, but messages had
+passed between them through friends and solicitors, and their first
+action now, as they stood side by side, was to hold out their hands in
+token of hearty friendship and confidence. Upon some of the spectators
+this friendly greeting produced a favourable impression; upon others
+the reverse. Of the two young men, it was clear that Reginald felt his
+position the more acutely; Dick had recovered his bright and cheery
+manner, and it was hard to believe that he stood charged with a
+horrible crime.
+
+Upon the case being called, Mr. Pallaret rose and said that he
+appeared for both the accused. "In expressing the hope," added the
+learned counsel, "that the case for the prosecution will be fully
+disclosed, and in such a comprehensive manner as to enable your
+worship to decide to-day whether you will discharge the accused or
+commit them for trial, I am carrying out their strong wish, with which
+my own view of what is just and right coincides."
+
+Mr. Mallandaine: "It is certainly advisable that a charge of this
+nature should not be kept hanging over the heads of the accused for an
+unreasonable length of time, but we have to be guided, to some extent,
+by the counsel for the prosecution."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "There is no desire on our part for delay. In a matter of
+this grave import every opportunity for defence should be given to an
+accused person, and in our proceedings to-day I say frankly that I do
+not intend to hold anything back. At the conclusion of the evidence it
+will be for your worship to decide whether the facts disclosed are
+sufficient to warrant the committal of the prisoners. I venture to say
+that there have been few cases of the kind in which the circumstantial
+evidence is so strong and direct. I would point out to your worship
+that the case assumes a different complexion from that which it
+presented this day week. Then there was only one person charged, now
+there are two, and I shall be able to prove collusion in the committal
+of a murder as brutal as any which can be found in the whole calendar
+of crime. The arrest of the second prisoner, Richard Remington, cousin
+of the first, Reginald Boyd, instead of complicating the issue, has
+cleared it, for much that was mysterious is now capable of
+explanation. The medical evidence will establish that the murder was
+committed on the night of Friday, the 1st of March----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Or on the night of Saturday, the 2nd. My learned
+brother will see the point."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "Yes, I see it, but I shall contend that it was committed
+on Friday, on which night Reginald Boyd visited his father, for the
+purpose, as he has himself admitted, of obtaining money from him, he
+being then, upon his own confession, in an impecunious state. The
+notes of his evidence at the inquest will be read to you----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "It will shorten the proceedings by my admitting the
+visit and its purpose. Mr. Reginald Boyd gave his evidence of his own
+free will."
+
+Mr. Mallandaine: "Nevertheless, Mr. Pallaret, the evidence had better
+be read from the Coroner's notes, in which you may possibly find
+discrepancies."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "There are parts which I wish to be read, in proof of
+the ingenuous part played by Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "We will read the whole of it. There will also be
+submitted to your worship proof of identification of the body, with
+the Coroner's notes, and the evidence of the two prisoners on that
+point."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "We admit that. There can be no possible doubt that the
+man murdered was Mr. Samuel Boyd, and I may state explicitly that
+there is not the least intention on our parts to dispute matters of
+fact."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "On the night in question three incidents occurred of
+which we have positive knowledge. The first was the summary discharge
+by the murdered man of his clerk, Mr. Abel Death, whose singular
+disappearance has yet to be accounted for; the second was the visit of
+Lady Wharton to Mr. Samuel Boyd, and her depositing with him certain
+articles of jewellery which her ladyship will be called upon to
+identify; the third, the visit of Reginald Boyd to his father under
+the circumstances I have mentioned. I name these incidents in the
+order of their occurrence. From the first discovery of the murder
+suspicion pointed to Reginald Boyd as its probable perpetrator, but
+the disclosures made up to a certain point of the inquiry in the
+Coroner's Court were not considered sufficiently conclusive by the
+police to warrant his arrest. But he was kept under observation.
+Towards the conclusion of the second day of the inquiry an important
+witness came forward in the person of Dr. Pye, a gentleman who, we
+understand, has devoted his life to scientific pursuits. This
+gentleman resides in Shore Street, a street running parallel to
+Catchpole Square. The windows at the back of Dr. Pye's house directly
+face the front of the house occupied by Mr. Samuel Boyd. It has been
+his habit for years to keep up late at night for the purpose of making
+scientific experiments, and on the night of Friday the 1st of March he
+was so employed. At three o'clock on that night--that is to say, on
+the morning of Saturday, the 2nd--he was standing at the window of the
+room in which he was at work, when his attention was attracted by an
+unusual movement at the door of Samuel Boyd's house. It will be
+necessary to bear in mind that Catchpole Square is a _cul de sac_, and
+that it is very rarely indeed that any person enters there, and none,
+unless it be an entire stranger, with the intention of passing
+through. The entrance to the Square is through a hooded passage
+bearing the ominous name of Deadman's Court. As I have told you, Dr.
+Pye was standing at the window--as he will tell you aimlessly, and as
+I submit in the abstracted mood habitual to students after some hours
+of secluded work--when he dimly observed the opening of the street
+door. An incident so unusual and suspicious made a strong impression
+upon him, and for the purpose of ascertaining the cause he brought
+forward an ingenious contrivance of his own invention by means of
+which he is enabled to throw a flashlight a considerable distance upon
+any desired spot, while the operator remains in shadow. The flashlight
+revealed the figure of a man standing at the door in an attitude of
+fear; Dr. Pye distinguished quite clearly the features of this man,
+who at that time was a stranger to him. The man remained at the door
+in his fear-struck attitude for several moments; then, the flashlight
+extinguished, Dr. Pye observed the shadow of a man--the night was
+dark, and he could distinguish no more than the shadow--slink
+cautiously and stealthily out of the Square. This was the end of the
+incident. During the inquest Dr. Pye properly conceived it to be his
+duty, in the interests of justice, to make the incident public, and he
+addressed a note to the Coroner, stating that he had evidence of more
+or less importance to tender. He was called and examined, and the
+statement he made was to the effect I have described. His examination
+over, a remarkable incident occurred. Glancing around the Court his
+eyes fell upon Reginald Boyd, and he was instantly struck with the
+resemblance he bore to the man he had seen in Catchpole Square; and
+his further examination elicited this fact. It is a proof of his
+fair-mindedness that he warned the jury not to be led into a possible
+error by attaching a too great importance to this resemblance, which
+he suggested might be accidental. If so, it was a remarkable accident.
+While offering this warning against a possible miscarriage of
+justice--of which I admit there are instances on record--he was not to
+be shaken from the positive fact of the extraordinary resemblance.
+Observe that he was not aware that the man whom he pointed out in the
+Coroner's Court was the son of Samuel Boyd. Now, in this connection,
+there will be found a discrepancy between Dr. Pye and another witness,
+Mrs. Abel Death, as to the hour at which the man emerged from the
+house. Dr. Pye says it was three o'clock, while Mrs. Death avers that
+she was in Catchpole Square from half-past two till half-past three,
+during which space of time the door of the house in Catchpole Square
+was not opened. Dr. Pye fixes the time by his watch, which he says he
+consulted, while Mrs. Death fixes it by the striking of the hour from
+St. Michael's Church, which is in the immediate vicinity of Catchpole
+Square. Stress will no doubt be laid upon this discrepancy to
+discredit Dr. Pye's evidence, but it should not be allowed to weigh
+with you. Either of these witnesses may be reasonably and blamelessly
+mistaken, and the strong probability is that it is Mrs. Death, who
+does not possess a watch or a clock, and whose agitation at the
+disappearance of her husband may easily have led her into error. But
+anyway this discrepancy is of small significance. Whether it was at
+three or two o'clock does not affect the fact that a man was seen
+coming from the house----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I beg my learned friend's pardon. The unsupported
+evidence of a witness in relation to the important incident he
+describes does not establish the fact, and such a word should not be
+used."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I withdraw the word. You will have the evidence, and will
+judge of its value. It is not conceivable that Dr. Pye had any
+personal interest to serve in coming forward----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Again I beg pardon. What is conceivable and not
+conceivable will probably be made clear before we finish."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I will pass over the incident. The presumption is that
+the man was either the murderer or an accomplice. Now, how does the
+prisoner, Reginald Boyd, stand in relation to what took place on that
+night? We have his own statement that he left his father's house and
+was in his lodgings by midnight, and if he could produce a witness or
+witnesses to confirm his statement, and to prove that he did not leave
+his lodgings again during the night, it would effectually dispose of
+the peril in which he stands in regard to the resemblance between him
+and the man whom Dr. Pye saw. But such a witness has not been, and I
+venture to say will not be, produced, and we have only his bare word
+to fall back upon. Remember that he had a latchkey, and could let
+himself into the house without the knowledge of the inmate. We may
+take it for granted that Samuel Boyd, before he retired to bed,
+chained and bolted the street door, and in these circumstances the
+latchkey would be useless.
+
+"I come now to the other prisoner, Richard Remington. No suspicion was
+entertained of his complicity in the crime, and there was no evidence
+connecting him with it until Monday night of this week. When Reginald
+Boyd was arrested Richard Remington was acting as his cousin's
+attorney, and on that very day he was seen posting up bills of large
+rewards, as stated therein, for the discovery of the murderer and Mr.
+Abel Death. On the face of it this simultaneous posting up of the two
+bills would go some way to directly associate Mr. Abel Death with the
+murder. I do not say that this was the intention, but it is open to
+that construction. If such an intention existed the design was artful
+and wicked, and Richard Remington's personal participation in the
+bill-posting--bill-sticking not being his trade--is open to another
+construction, that it was done for the purpose of averting suspicion
+from himself. On the following day, Friday, a notice appeared on the
+street door of the house in Catchpole Square, which stated that
+Richard Remington was absent on business, and that all communications
+for him were to be left at a certain address. Inquiry was made for him
+at that address by a witness who will be called, and nothing could be
+learned about him. I mention this incidentally, as indicating that he
+wished it to be supposed he was living at that address. If this were
+so, for what reason did he make it public, when he was not to be found
+there? Saturday, Sunday, and the daylight of Monday, passed without
+anything being heard of him; but late that night an incident of a very
+startling nature occurred, in which he was the principal actor.
+
+"Constable Applebee was on his beat, which embraced Catchpole Square,
+and during the storm which came on suddenly at two in the morning, he
+took refuge in Deadman's Court, which you will recollect is the only
+approach to the Square. During a lull in the storm the constable
+stepped from his shelter to reconnoitre the houses in the Square. He
+had not been there a minute before the door of Samuel Boyd's house was
+flung open, and a man ran out, almost into the constable's arms. This
+man was Richard Remington."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+                      CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.
+
+
+"His outer garments were such as a Mongolian wears, and in his hand
+was the mask of a Chinaman's face. He carried also in his hand a
+hollow cane of the reign of Charles the Second, in which, as you will
+presently hear, a singular discovery was made. It is not for me to say
+why this disguise was assumed; it is sufficient to state the fact. In
+response to Constable Applebee's calls for assistance Detective
+Lambert came up, and afterwards Constable Pond and another. The
+prisoner gave no explanation of his singular disguise, but made some
+rambling statement to the effect that the murderers of Samuel Boyd
+were in the house. In compliance with his urgent and reiterated
+requests the officers Lambert and Applebee accompanied him into the
+house, and made a thorough search, from top to bottom, without
+discovering any person there. Remington was then taken to the police
+station, and charged. When he was searched a document was found upon
+him of a nature so incriminating, and so direct in its terms, as to
+furnish the strongest proof of the guilt of the prisoner, Reginald
+Boyd. The defence will probably call this evidence presumptive; I call
+it conclusive. The document runs as follows:--
+
+(Mr. Marlow here read the Memoranda made by Samuel Boyd on the night
+of Friday, March 1st, with which our readers are already
+acquainted.[1])
+
+
+********************
+
+[Footnote 1: See pages 97, 98.--Author.]
+
+********************
+
+
+"You will perceive that the document is dated the 1st of March, and
+there can be no doubt that it was the last writing made by Samuel Boyd
+before he was cruelly murdered. That he was in dread of violence at
+the hands of his son is clear. No reference is made in the document to
+the prisoner Remington, but there is a presumptive accusation against
+the missing man, Abel Death, of being in a conspiracy to rob him.
+Observe also the reference to the latchkey possessed by his son, and
+the words, 'If he does not get in through the front door he will find
+some other way; he is better acquainted with the ins and outs of this
+house than I am myself.' In this voice from the grave--for so it may
+be aptly termed--is revealed a deplorable state of feeling between
+father and son which strengthens the case against the prisoner Boyd.
+They were at enmity; each accused the other of robbery or attempted
+robbery, and matters thus were ripe for violence. Is it too wild a
+presumption that Remington removed the incriminating document for the
+purpose of shielding his confederate, and, by implication, himself?
+The document informed them, also, that Samuel Boyd had not yet made
+his will, and that if he died that night his son would become heir at
+law. A strange feature in the case is that the paper was not
+immediately destroyed, but there are numbers of instances in which
+criminals have been brought to justice by over-confidence and by their
+neglect to attend to small matters over which they believed themselves
+to have absolute control. In addition to this document another
+remarkable discovery was made at the police station. On the night of
+the murder Lady Wharton had deposited with Samuel Boyd certain
+valuable jewels as security for an advance of money to be made to her,
+and up to last Monday night no trace of these jewels had been
+discovered. Now, the Charles the Second cane carried from the house by
+the prisoner Remington was hollow, and in it were found the missing
+jewels. Lady Wharton will be called to identify them. Against
+Remington a search of his lodgings furnished further evidence. Under
+his bed was found a rope and grapnel, which he purchased on Friday the
+1st of March----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Will the date be proved?"
+
+Mr. Marlow: "The shopkeeper from whom he purchased it will give
+evidence of the date. It may be asked, what object could there have
+been in Remington purchasing a rope and grapnel to get over the wall
+at the back when Reginald Boyd, with whom we accuse him of being in
+collusion, possessed a key to the front door? The answer to that is
+that they deemed it necessary to be prepared, in case the street door
+was chained and bolted. Or it may have been done, and the rope and
+grapnel used, to divert suspicion from themselves, and to make it
+appear that burglars unacquainted with the premises had effected an
+entrance and committed the crime. It is most suspicious that in
+Remington's evidence at the inquest he made no allusion to the rope
+and grapnel, although the statement of Detective Lambert was before
+him. For what other reason than to screen himself could he have been
+guilty of the suppression? Another piece of evidence will be
+forthcoming. Before either of the prisoners was arrested Detective
+Lambert, during his examination of the house, took photographs of the
+bloody footprints leading from Samuel Boyd's bedroom to the small
+window at the back, through which the person or persons effecting an
+unlawful entrance had passed. Since Remington's arrest photographs
+have been taken of the soles of his boots, and they exactly correspond
+with those of the bloody footprints. As to another startling incident
+in this remarkable crime--the visit of the man disguised as Samuel
+Boyd to Lady Wharton in Bournemouth--we have only conjecture, and I
+make no comment upon it other than that it is a mystery which has yet
+to be elucidated.
+
+"I have now gone through the principal features of the murder and its
+attendant circumstances, and I think your worship will agree with me
+that there is no course open to you except to put the prisoners on
+their trial at the Criminal Court."
+
+At the conclusion of this address the general opinion of the
+disinterested persons in court was that the accused were guilty, and
+that there was no escape for them. There were, however, seated at the
+solicitors' table a few more experienced who judged from Mr.
+Pallaret's manner that he by no means despaired of an acquittal. A
+twisted note had been handed to him, on which was written, "He is the
+man. Call Joseph Pitou."
+
+Witnesses for the prosecution were then examined, of whom the first
+was Lambert, whose evidence was similar to that given at the inquest,
+and who testified to the execution of the search warrant in Dick's
+lodgings. Mr. Pallaret asked him but few questions.
+
+"You have been engaged in getting up this case?"
+
+"Yes, under instructions."
+
+"From time to time you have come into communication with Mr. Richard
+Remington?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Has he assisted or retarded you in your inquiries?"
+
+"He has been of material assistance to me."
+
+"At whose suggestion were photographs of his boots taken?"
+
+"At his. Since his arrest I received a message from him saying that he
+had a communication to make to me. He then related the circumstances
+of his breaking into the house in Catchpole Square, and gave me his
+boots. He also showed me traces of a scar on his hand, caused by a
+wound he received when he broke the window at the back of the house,
+from which the blood had dropped as he walked through the passages and
+rooms."
+
+"Did it appear to you as if he wished to conceal anything?"
+
+"It did not. He was quite frank and open with me."
+
+"In pursuance of your duties you served subp[oe]nas upon certain
+witnesses?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Among others, upon Dr. Pye?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In an interview with him you asked him to show you the flashlight
+device by means of which, according to his statement, he saw a man
+come from the house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What was his reply?"
+
+"That it was under repair, and he could not produce it."
+
+Then followed the evidence of the reporter of "The Little Busy Bee,"
+and that of Constable Applebee, neither of whom was cross-examined by
+the defence.
+
+At this point of the trial it was observed that a communication was
+made to Detective Lambert, who hastily took his departure, but not
+before he had passed a piece of paper to Mr. Pallaret, upon which was
+scribbled, "If you do not see me in Court delay the proceedings as
+long as possible. If Dr. Pye's examination is over before I return do
+not allow him to leave the Court. Most important."
+
+Lady Wharton was next called. She narrated the circumstances under
+which she had entrusted her jewels to Samuel Boyd, and identified
+them. Among the questions put to her under cross-examination, which
+was purposely prolonged by Mr. Pallaret, were the following:
+
+"Are any of the jewels you gave the deceased on Friday, March 1st,
+missing?"
+
+"No. They are all here."
+
+"Have you a list of the jewels you gave the person who personated
+Samuel Boyd in Bournemouth on the following Friday night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You could identify them?"
+
+"Certainly I could. I wish I had the opportunity."
+
+Mr. Higgins then appeared in the witness box, shaking visibly, his
+features twitching spasmodically. From him the prosecution elicited
+that Dick had purchased a rope and grapnel at his shop on March 1st,
+and had paid half the purchase money at the time, promising to pay the
+balance in the course of the following week, which promise had not
+been kept. Dick could not understand what his object was in giving
+this false evidence as to the date of the purchase, unless it were
+that he conceived himself injured by not obtaining the blackmail he
+had hoped to gain. He was subjected to a long cross-examination, in
+the course of which he became hopelessly involved, and contradicted
+himself so repeatedly that he was warned by the magistrate. He finally
+retired from the witness box utterly discredited and demoralised.
+
+Dr. Pye's name being called, he took his place in the witness box. His
+face was calm and composed, and he cast his eyes around with a sense
+of power which produced a profound impression among the spectators. In
+a passionless voice he repeated the statement he had made at the
+Coroner's Court, not deviating by a word from his description of the
+events of the fatal night. His statement finished, the examination
+proceeded:
+
+"When you gave your evidence at the inquest you expressed some doubt
+as to the prisoner Reginald Boyd being the man you saw come from the
+house?"
+
+"There came to my mind instances of mistaken resemblance in past
+trials of importance, and I conceived it my duty to warn the jury not
+to be led into error."
+
+"You suggested that you might be mistaken?"
+
+"I made the suggestion. No man is infallible."
+
+"Have you carefully considered the matter since you appeared in the
+Coroner's Court?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Has that consideration strengthened or removed any doubts you may
+have had?"
+
+"It has removed any possible doubt that may have been in my mind."
+
+"Look at the prisoner, Reginald Boyd. Can you say now with certainty
+that he is the man you saw?"
+
+"I can say he is, with certainty."
+
+"You are positive?"
+
+"Quite positive. The resemblance is so startling that there is only
+the barest possibility of my being mistaken."
+
+"Now, as to the hour. You looked at your watch?"
+
+"The incident was so unusual that I instinctively took my watch from
+my pocket. It was within a minute of three o'clock."
+
+"You are aware that another witness, who will probably be called for
+the defence, states that she was in Catchpole Square at that hour,
+that she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three, and
+that the door of the house of the deceased was not opened?"
+
+"I am aware of it. She is mistaken."
+
+"Did you hear the clock of St. Michael's Church strike?"
+
+"I did not."
+
+"That is all, Dr. Pye."
+
+Mr. Pallaret then rose and commenced his cross-examination, which had
+been looked forward to with some eagerness.
+
+"Your name is Pye?"
+
+"That is my name."
+
+"Christian name?"
+
+"Charles Stuart."
+
+"Charles Stuart Pye. Have you ever passed under any other name?"
+
+"The question is an insult."
+
+"I do not intend it as such. I am defending two men who are accused of
+an atrocious crime, one of them the son of the man who was murdered.
+Have you ever passed under any other name?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Are you English born?"
+
+"My parents were English. I was born in Switzerland. If I speak with a
+slight foreign accent it is to be ascribed to the fact that my
+childhood was passed away from England, and that in my youth I
+travelled much in foreign countries."
+
+"Your English is very good. You speak more than one language?"
+
+"I speak French, German, and Italian."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Forty-eight, I think. I cannot say with certainty, as my parents did
+not keep up my birthday."
+
+"In what part of Switzerland were you born?"
+
+"In Geneva, I believe. My parents never informed me, and I did not
+inquire."
+
+"It was a matter of no interest to you?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+If you were born in Geneva the record of your birth will be found
+there?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"You call yourself Dr. Do you hold a diploma?"
+
+"I do not. I am called Dr. by courtesy."
+
+"Whose courtesy?"
+
+"General courtesy. It has grown into a fashion. I regard it as a
+compliment."
+
+The Magistrate: "Are these questions relevant, Mr. Pallaret?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Quite relevant, as your worship will see farther on. I
+shall not ask a question which does not affect the issue." (To the
+witness.) "I understand that you volunteered to give evidence at the
+inquest in the interests of justice?"
+
+"Simply that."
+
+"And had no personal interest to serve?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Are you acquainted with a person of the name of Ezra Lynn?
+
+"I am."
+
+"He is a money-lender?"
+
+"Yes. My acquaintance with him results from that."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it. Are you acquainted with a person of the name
+of Vinsen--calling himself Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Not within the last few days."
+
+"We were anxious to have him here to-day, but I do not see him. We
+issued a subp[oe]na demanding his attendance. Not being able to
+ascertain his address we left it at your house. You are aware of
+that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Has he received the summons?
+
+"I am not aware that he has."
+
+"Can you inform us where he lives?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"Nor where he is at the present moment?"
+
+"I cannot inform you."
+
+Upon Dr. Pye's countenance there was not a trace of discomposure, and
+there was not a tremor in his voice; but the experienced lawyer, as
+skilful a judge of character as the man he was examining, knew that if
+a look could kill his minutes were numbered. There was one person in
+court, Mrs. Abel Death, who listened in bewilderment to the answers
+given by the witness with reference to Dr. Vinsen. This man, who had
+presented himself to her as Dr. Pye's viceroy, who had given her
+money, who had poisoned her ears against Reginald Boyd and Dick
+Remington, was sitting within a few yards of her, and yet Dr. Pye
+denied all knowledge of his whereabouts. What was the meaning of this
+falsehood? Looking at Dr. Vinsen she saw that his eyes were wandering
+around, as though seeking a means of escape. His face was pallid, his
+lips were quivering, his hands trembled as they wiped the moisture
+from his forehead. Gracie had hated him from the first, and it was
+this, perhaps, that had caused her to absent herself from home. The
+mother's heart was wrung with anguish, with doubt, with despair.
+
+Mr. Pallaret continued his cross-examination.
+
+"Now, about this flashlight of yours, which revealed the face of the
+man you say you saw. A contrivance or device of your own, I
+understand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you brought it into court?"
+
+"I have not."
+
+"Is it in your house?"
+
+"It is not."
+
+"No person connected with this inquiry has seen it. You refused to
+show it to Detective Lambert, saying it was under repair. Is it still
+under repair?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Give me the name of the tradesman who is repairing it?"
+
+"I decline to give it. The device is a secret invention, and I will
+not run the danger of losing the benefit of it."
+
+"The question is one I cannot compel you to answer, so I will not
+repeat it; but if the men whom I am defending are put on their trial
+in a higher court we will see that this so-called flashlight is
+produced. I gather from you that on the night of the 1st of March you
+were induced to use it by seeing with your naked eye a man standing at
+the door of Samuel Boyd's house. The night was very dark. How did you
+know it was a man?"
+
+"Dark as it was I distinguished the figure of a man."
+
+"On that night there was no suspicion that a murder had been
+committed. What made you regard as suspicious so simple a circumstance
+as a man coming out of the house?"
+
+"I had never before seen any one in Catchpole Square at that hour of
+the night."
+
+"Shall we call it a kind of instinct that whispered of a foul deed
+done?"
+
+"Call it what you please. You are drawing upon your fancy; I am
+stating facts."
+
+"Very well; we will stick to facts. You saw the figure of a man, and
+your suspicions were aroused. How long a time elapsed before you had
+recourse to your flashlight?"
+
+"I used it almost immediately."
+
+"Your process of reasoning was almost as swift as your flashlight. Do
+you keep your device in the room in which you were standing?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How far from the window?"
+
+"Within reach of my hand."
+
+"Before it was ready for its work some little time must have elapsed.
+How is the light produced?"
+
+"By an arrangement of magnesium wire."
+
+"Which requires to be ignited?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"By means of a match?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is, I suppose, necessary that the device be opened before you can
+light the wire?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You saw the figure of a man, your suspicions were aroused, you
+brought forward the flashlight, you opened it, you found the match
+box, you took from it a match, you struck the match, you applied the
+flame to the magnesium wire, you threw the light upon the door in
+Catchpole Square. That is how it was done?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To strike a match requires two hands, one to hold the box, the other
+to hold the match. You admit that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So that, having brought forward your flashlight device, you had to
+set it down before you could strike the match?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then you had to lift the box again before you could apply the
+flame of the match to the magnesium wire. Do you expect us to believe
+that all these operations were executed simultaneously and
+instantaneously?"
+
+"No, I do not."
+
+"Good. Timing these various processes of thought and action, we may
+assume that they occupied a couple of minutes?"
+
+"Not so long."
+
+"A minute and a half? I don't think I can accept less than a minute
+and a half for the accomplishment of the work I have described?"
+
+"Say a minute and a half."
+
+"I accept it. And all this time the man was standing at the door,
+waiting for you?"
+
+"Again, these are your words, not mine."
+
+"Do you realise how long a minute and a half is to a murderer under
+these circumstances? It is an eternity. Place yourself in the position
+of the man, and time it by your watch. How slowly the seconds pass!
+Between each there is a thrill of agony. I put it to you that it is
+incredible that a murderer, in fear of momentary detection, eager to
+make a swift escape from the scene of his horrible crime, standing in
+a place so lonely and deserted as Catchpole Square, would remain for
+so long a time at the door in suspense?"
+
+"He must have done so, for I witnessed it."
+
+"I pass to another subject. I am anxious, like yourself, to adhere to
+fact. Cast your eyes around the court; let them rest upon the seat you
+vacated to take your place in the witness box. Close to that seat do
+you see Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I do not." Not a muscle in Dr. Pye's face moved as he gave this
+answer.
+
+"You see the man I am pointing at, the man next to whom you have been
+seated these last two hours. Is not that man Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"He is not."
+
+"Who is he, then?"
+
+"His name is Ezra Lynn."
+
+Unable to control herself, Mrs. Death rose and exclaimed,
+
+"It is not true! It is Dr. Vinsen!"
+
+A wave of excitement passed over the court; the spectators craned
+their necks, exclamations of astonishment escaped their lips, and for
+a few moments all was confusion. When order was restored, Mr. Pallaret
+said,--
+
+"I have done with you for the present, Dr. Pye. I must ask your
+worship not to allow the witness, or any of the witnesses, to leave
+the court."
+
+The Magistrate: "They will all remain. The officers will see to it."
+
+Apparently unmoved and unruffled, Dr. Pye returned to his seat. Those
+of the spectators who were in a position to see observed a smile on
+his lips.
+
+Mr. Pallaret, turning to the magistrate, then said that it was not
+customary in such cases as the present for the defence to make a long
+speech in a police court, but he was induced by special circumstances
+to deviate from the usual custom, and he was influenced also by the
+accused, whose earnest desire it was that all their proceedings should
+be made public with as little delay as possible. The only important
+witness brought forward by the prosecution against Mr. Reginald Boyd
+was Dr. Pye, and he should be able to prove that this witness was
+utterly unworthy of credit. Evidence of a startling nature would be
+presented which would suggest the gravest doubts in connection with
+him. (At this moment a slight bustle took place in court, caused by
+the hurried entrance of a messenger bearing a note for Mr. Pallaret.
+The learned counsel paused to receive and read the note, and then
+wrote a line in reply, which was handed to the messenger, who
+immediately departed.)
+
+"I do not disguise from your worship," continued Mr. Pallaret, "that
+my object is to obtain the immediate acquittal of the accused at your
+hands, or, in the event of their being committed for trial, to show
+that the case against them is so flimsy and unreliable, that to refuse
+bail would be a distinct injustice. Stripped of the defence which I am
+in a position to make, I admit that the circumstantial evidence would
+be sufficiently strong to render their detention necessary, but even
+without the defence it would not be strong enough to prove their
+guilt. I take the opportunity of emphasising the extreme danger that
+lies in evidence of this character. One of our greatest writers has
+said, 'Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an
+innocent man, that, directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay
+him.' Such might have been the issue of the charge brought against the
+men I am defending, but happily they are in a position to meet it in a
+conclusive manner, and, I do not hesitate to say, to prove their
+innocence. Although not quite relevant to the issue affecting
+themselves, I cannot refrain from saying that in establishing their
+innocence they will also establish the innocence of an absent man
+against whom the finger of suspicion has been pointed. I refer to Mr.
+Abel Death. With respect to one of the accused I shall unfold a story
+which has in it many of the elements of romance."
+
+Mr. Pallaret then described the part which Dick had played in the
+Mystery. With breathless interest the spectators listened to the
+recital, the effect of which was heightened by the eloquence of the
+narrator.
+
+"Mr. Richard Remington" (proceeded Mr. Pallaret), "convinced of the
+innocence of his cousin's husband, recognising the dangerous position
+in which he stood, and with a certain suspicion in his mind, conceived
+and carried out a plan as novel, as ingenious, and as _bizarre_, as
+has ever been disclosed in a court of justice. On two nights, when he
+was in the house of the murdered man, he had observed that a
+flashlight had been thrown upon the windows from the back room of the
+house inhabited by Dr. Pye. He resolved to present a problem to that
+person. As skilful in disguise--I may mention that he had been a short
+time on the stage--as the villain who personated Samuel Boyd, and
+robbed Lady Wharton of her jewels in Bournemouth, he dressed himself
+in a suit of Samuel Boyd's clothes, and, in theatrical parlance, 'made
+up' his face to resemble that of the murdered man. Thus disguised he
+stationed himself at the front window of Samuel Boyd's house, and upon
+more than one occasion experienced the satisfaction of having the
+flashlight thrown upon him. He put into execution another and a bolder
+idea, the successful result of which led to his arrest under
+circumstances which you have heard described by Constable Applebee and
+Detective Lambert. He was convinced that persons found access to the
+house by some means and in some way unknown to him. If his suspicions
+were verified the natural conclusion would be that those persons (I
+use the plural advisedly) were the murderers. He determined to set
+watch for them, and to remain hidden in the house for several days and
+nights. In order to carry this out successfully, and to throw dust
+into the eyes of the suspected persons, he affixed a notice to the
+street door, to the effect that he would be absent from the house for
+some time.
+
+"In the room on the first floor which had been used as an office there
+is, among other singular articles, the wax figure of a Chinaman,
+suitably attired. This figure is sitting in a hooded chair, what is
+called, I believe, a grandmother's chair. Mr. Remington had procured
+from a theatrical costumier in Covent Garden the mask of a Chinaman's
+face and a costume similar to that which clothed the wax figure. His
+design was, when he heard sounds of any person or persons moving in
+any part of the house, to place the wax figure in a cupboard in the
+office, and take its place. It was a bold and hazardous design,
+fraught with danger to himself, but, determined if possible to bring
+the miscreants to justice, he allowed no considerations for his
+personal safety to stand in his way. He entered the house on the
+Thursday night of last week, and did not leave it until the Monday
+night of this week. Animated by his high resolve, stern and fixed in
+his purpose, behold him in that lonely house, on the watch! Thursday
+and Friday nights passed, and nothing occurred. Neither was he
+disturbed on the nights of Saturday and Sunday. He remained there in
+absolute darkness, confident that the time would come.
+
+"And here let me offer my tribute of praise and admiration for the
+courage, the patience, I may say the heroism he displayed during this
+long vigil, this arduous and almost sleepless watch, undertaken out of
+affection for the family to which he is related, and to prove the
+innocence of a man falsely accused of a horrible crime.
+
+"On Monday night, or rather at about two o'clock on Tuesday morning,
+his patience was rewarded. He heard sounds in the passage below which,
+faint as they were, denoted that he was not now alone in the house. He
+had already assumed his disguise and removed the wax figure of the
+Chinaman from the chair. All he had to do was to take its place. The
+back of the hooded chair being towards the door he could not see who
+entered when it was softly opened. Nor could he distinguish the voices
+of the men, for they spoke in whispers. They moved about the room in
+their stocking feet, and from the few words that reached his ears he
+gathered that they had come once more to search for the jewels which
+Lady Wharton had given Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of her visit to
+him. Now, I call your attention to the last words of the document
+written by the unfortunate man on that fatal night--'Notation 2647.'
+Mr. Remington did not dare to turn his head to watch the movements of
+the men as they moved about the room. Disappointed in their search one
+of the men, in his passion, shook the hooded chair so violently that
+the cane in the hand of the supposed wax figure--which Mr. Remington
+also held, in order to completely carry out the deception--slipped
+from his grasp to the ground. The man who picked it up pressed, by
+accident, one of the raised letters in the knob of the cane. This
+pressure caused the figure 2 to spring up. In a state of intense
+excitement the man drew his companion's attention to the circumstance,
+and made a reference to the notation, thus proving that he was
+familiar with it. He had pressed the letter B, the second in the
+alphabet, and it had released the figure 2. He pressed the sixth
+letter, F, and the figure 6 was released, the fourth letter, D, and
+the figure 4 was released, and the seventh letter, G, releasing the
+figure 7, the notation was complete, 2647. Mr. Remington, his sense of
+hearing preternaturally sharpened, heard the whispered comments of the
+men as figure after figure was released, and heard the click of the
+silver knob as it sprang up and revealed to the delighted eyes of the
+conspirators the jewels which had been concealed in the hollow of
+the cane. Thanks to Mr. Remington's prompt action their delight was
+short-lived. You will recollect that at this hour on Monday night a
+storm was raging, and that the lightning was very vivid. What followed
+was the work of a moment. Mr. Remington started to his feet, and as he
+did so a flash of lightning illumined the scene. One of the
+conspirators held in his hand a lighted candle, the other the cane
+containing the treasure. He seized the cane, and dashed the lighted
+candle to the ground, thereby plunging the room in darkness, all the
+blacker because of the lightning flash that had passed through it, and
+flew into the passage and out of the house, to fall into the hands of
+Constable Applebee. It is unfortunate that in that brief moment of
+rapid and resolute action he did not see the faces of the
+conspirators, but he has his suspicions who they were, and has
+communicated them to me. Before these proceedings are ended we may see
+those suspicions verified. I have now related the true story of Mr.
+Remington's adventures, with all its strange and remarkable episodes,
+and with the trite remark that truth is stranger than fiction I will
+call the witnesses for the defence."
+
+The first witness was the costumier in Covent Garden, who testified to
+Dick's purchase of the Chinese mask and costume. He thought they were
+for the stage. Such purchases were made of him every day.
+
+The next witness was Mrs. Abel Death, who, despite her distress, gave
+her evidence of the disappearance of her husband and her search for
+him in a fairly clear manner. When she was questioned as to the
+disappearance of her daughter Gracie, the counsel for the prosecution
+intervened, and contended that these private domestic matters had
+nothing to do with the case. Mr. Pallaret, answering that before he
+was done he would show that they had a direct bearing upon it, was
+allowed to proceed.
+
+"Now, Mrs. Death, on the day on which you made your application in
+this Court respecting your husband's disappearance you were visited by
+a person who introduced himself as a doctor. What name did he give?"
+
+"Dr. Vinsen, sir."
+
+"He spoke of Dr. Pye as his intimate friend?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you see Dr. Vinsen in Court at the present moment?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I see him."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Let the man seated next to Dr. Pye stand up."
+
+With evident reluctance, and vainly endeavouring to conceal his
+agitation, Dr. Vinsen stood up.
+
+"Is that Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes, sir, that is the gentleman."
+
+"But Dr. Pye, his intimate friend, declares he is not Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I can't help that, sir. He _is_ Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"You swear it?"
+
+"I swear it, sir."
+
+"Is there the slightest doubt in your mind?"
+
+"Not the slightest, sir."
+
+"Can you give me any reason why Dr. Pye, Dr. Vinsen's intimate friend,
+should say he had not seen him for some days past?"
+
+"No, sir, I can't make it out."
+
+"In his visits to you did you have any conversation about the murder?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Did he make any reference to Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington in connection with it?"
+
+"Yes, sir. It was his opinion, he said, that Mr. Reginald Boyd did it,
+and that Mr. Remington was mixed up with it, and that, to keep off
+suspicion from themselves, they were trying to throw it on my poor
+husband."
+
+"Did you believe it?"
+
+"I didn't know what to believe, sir, I've been that distracted."
+
+"I sincerely pity you; but do not lose heart. Did your daughter Gracie
+believe it----but stop, I must put it another way. Did your daughter
+Gracie say anything to you on the subject?"
+
+"Yes, sir. She said she didn't believe it. The poor child didn't like
+Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"That is all, Mrs. Death."
+
+No questions being asked by the counsel for the prosecution, Mrs.
+Death's place was taken by Mr. Rawdon, whose face was very white when
+he stepped into the box.
+
+"You were one of the jury at the inquest held upon the body of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I was."
+
+"You are acquainted with Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"I have had business dealings with him."
+
+"Borrowed money of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I will trouble Mr. Ezra Lynn, or Dr. Vinsen, to stand up again. Thank
+you. Is that Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I don't know Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"The inquest extended over a period of eleven days. Now, I ask you
+whether, during those eleven days, you had frequent communication with
+Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"I saw him once or twice."
+
+"Be careful. Did you not see him six or seven times?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"You owe him a large sum of money?"
+
+"I owe him money."
+
+"He holds an execution over all your goods and furniture which he can
+put into execution at any moment? No evasions, sir!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"On those six or seven occasions on which you saw Mr. Lynn while the
+inquest was in progress what was the subject of conversation between
+you?"
+
+"The money I owe him."
+
+"Nothing else? Not the murder?"
+
+"It was mentioned. Everybody was talking of it."
+
+"Now, there is no obligation upon you to answer the question I am
+about to put, but if you reply I warn you to bear in mind that you are
+upon your oath. In the course of your conversations with the man who
+could sell you up at a moment's notice, did he express a wish that a
+particular verdict should be returned, and did he supply you with any
+information concerning Mr. Reginald Boyd to guide you in furthering
+that wish? You are silent. Do you decline to answer?"
+
+"Yes, I do. It has nothing to do with the case. Everybody has an
+opinion about the murder."
+
+"I am not asking you about his opinion, but about his wish, and about
+certain information with which he supplied you. You are still silent.
+We shall know what construction to place upon your refusal to give a
+plain answer to a plain question. You can return to your seat, Mr.
+Rawdon, unless counsel for the prosecution desires to cross-examine
+you."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I have no questions to ask the witness; and I may add
+that I fail to see the drift of several of the questions my learned
+friend has put to the witnesses."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "When I have finished it will be seen that there is not
+a question I have put which is not justified. In all my experience I
+have never known so foul a conspiracy as that which I hope to lay
+bare. Call Joseph Pitou."
+
+The foreign gentleman with the curled moustache who had been stationed
+behind Dr. Pye left his seat, and made his way to the witness box, and
+for the first time Dr. Pye had a full view of his swarthy face. They
+gazed steadily at each other, and for so long a time that it seemed to
+be a challenge which should drop his eyes first. This strange and
+steadfast gaze drew upon the two actors the attention of every person
+in Court. At length, with a gesture expressive of satisfaction, Joseph
+Pitou turned to Mr. Pallaret, who had watched the scene so earnestly
+that it almost appeared as if he were also playing a part in it.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+                     A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.
+
+
+"What is your name and calling?"
+
+"I am of the Criminal Investigation Department in Paris. Joseph Pitou,
+a name well known."
+
+"We are familiar with it in England. You have come to London on
+special business?"
+
+"In association with my esteemed _confrère_, Monsieur Lambert, I have
+come to make the arrest of a notorious criminal."
+
+"You speak excellent English?"
+
+"You are pleased to say so. It is to me as my mother tongue; as is
+also Italian, German, and various dialects of the Turkish and Polish
+languages."
+
+"What is the name of the notorious criminal you have come to arrest?"
+
+"Louis Lorenz."
+
+"Do you hope to be able to lay hands on him?"
+
+"I can lay this hand on him at any moment."
+
+"What is the nature of his crime?"
+
+"Permit me. Of his many crimes. Many robberies, attended with extreme
+brutality. And worse than robberies. One positive murder in Gallicia;
+another probable murder in Vienna; another in St. Petersburg."
+
+"Up to this day he has escaped?"
+
+"Yes, he has escaped, always escaped. Condemned to the galleys in
+Vienna; a week afterwards, flown. Sent to Siberia in Russia;
+disappeared on the road. Sentenced to death in Gallicia; his cell
+empty the day after he was put into it."
+
+"A man of rare talent?"
+
+"Of immense talent. His plans laid with the brain of a master; money
+ready for bribes; confederates ready to obey orders. Nothing has been
+too difficult for him to accomplish."
+
+"What was the principal motive for his crimes? Money?"
+
+"It is curious. Money sometimes, but never money alone. In every case
+his victim was possessed of some rare treasures of art which Lorenz
+coveted, and would have trodden through blood to obtain. As it
+happens, he trod through much blood. In this way many valuable
+antiques have disappeared. I have a record of them. Search has been
+made for them throughout the wide world, and they are still
+undiscovered. For years I have been on the track of them. A clue fell
+into my hands, and I followed it up. I hold a warrant for the man's
+arrest, and soon justice will be satisfied."
+
+"Louis Lorenz can be no common criminal?"
+
+"My faith, no! Louis Lorenz is a prince, an emperor of criminals. I
+have hunted for him in every city in Europe and America, and for the
+art treasures he has stolen. Not one has seen the light; not one has
+been offered to dealers or connoisseurs. He has been known here, and
+known there, as a man who dabbled in science. It has been said he is
+in search of the Philosopher's Stone, of the elixir of life. He has
+imposed even upon _savants_, who have been seduced into believing in
+the miracles he declared he would one day accomplish."
+
+"But if he presented himself in his own proper person how is it that
+he has not been caught, that he is still free?"
+
+"Never did he present himself in his own proper person. Always so
+disguised that it was impossible to identify him. He is an actor of
+the first class, a match for the Evil One himself. But for the powers
+of darkness man is sometimes a match."
+
+"'Be sure thy sin will find thee out?'"
+
+"Ah, monsieur, it is true."
+
+"You say it would be impossible to identify him with his clothes on.
+Would it be impossible to identify him with his clothes off?"
+
+"Ah, no, that is a different matter. He is branded on the back, on
+the breast."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "Is not my learned friend wandering from the case we are
+investigating--the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "No. Be patient, and you will understand; I will not
+keep you long in suspense." (To the witness.) "You say you can lay
+hands on Louis Lorenz at any moment. At this moment?"
+
+"At this moment."
+
+"Here in this court?"
+
+"Here in this court."
+
+"Then he must be in attendance?
+
+"He is in attendance."
+
+"Point him out."
+
+The witness extended his arm dramatically, and pointed to Dr. Pye.
+
+"That is the man!"
+
+A scene of indescribable excitement ensued. Exclamations of
+astonishment were heard on all sides, and everyone, with the exception
+of the French detective, the counsel for the defence, and Dr. Pye, was
+in commotion. They remained unmoved, the two former silent and
+watchful, the latter exhibiting not the least trace of agitation. In
+the midst of this excited scene loud exclamations were heard outside
+the court, where the people appeared to have caught the contagion, and
+presently the policemen near the door leading to the public
+thoroughfare were seen to be busily forcing a passage for the entrance
+of two persons, one a little girl, carried in the arms of detective
+Lambert, the other a man, white and emaciated, reclining in the arms
+of two constables. As they came into view a shriek from Mrs. Death
+resounded through the Court.
+
+"Abel! Abel!" she screamed, and her frenzied cry was followed by an
+interval of dead silence.
+
+Abel Death raised his head, and looked at his wife with a wan,
+affectionate smile; and Gracie, with a strange glitter in her large
+black eyes, cried in a hoarse voice,
+
+"It's all right, mother! It's all right, Dick! I said I'd find father,
+didn't I?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Let these witnesses be brought forward to this table,
+where they will have more breathing space. I must ask your worship to
+excuse me while I speak privately to them."
+
+Abel Death, who was very weak, was accommodated with a seat at the
+table, where he reclined, with a cushion at his back; Gracie, holding
+his hand, sat by his side; and between them and Mr. Pallaret and
+Lambert, a whispered conference was held, lasting several minutes. The
+conference over, Mr. Pallaret addressed the magistrate:
+
+"The proceedings in this case have been somewhat irregular, but not
+less irregular than I anticipated when I opened the defence. My
+object, as I informed your worship, was to obtain, not an adjournment
+of the case, but the immediate acquittal of the accused. I made the
+observation that the only evidence against Mr. Reginald Boyd was that
+given by the person who calls himself Dr. Pye, and it will not be
+disputed that his evidence is entirely discredited. Nay, I will go
+farther and say that it was fabricated for the purpose of weaving so
+strong a case of circumstantial evidence against two innocent men as
+to practically ensure their conviction of a crime which they did not
+commit. With respect to Mr. Richard Remington, you have heard the
+strange but true story of the part he has played in this mystery. When
+he was caught last Monday night in Catchpole Square his appeals to his
+captors to hurry into the house for the purpose of arresting the two
+men who were searching for treasure there while, disguised to resemble
+the wax figure of the Chinaman, he was seated in its chair, was
+doubtless regarded by many in this court as a mere invention; but I
+shall now be able to prove that it was no invention, and at the same
+time to establish the truth of the story I have related to you. The
+proof will be forthcoming in the evidence of this brave little girl,
+Gracie Death, who has played a part in this strange mystery as
+adventurous and romantic as that of Richard Remington himself. After
+she has given her evidence I shall call her father, Mr. Abel Death, if
+he is strong enough, to relate what he knows. He has, as it were,
+risen from the grave, and thanks to his brave little daughter, is
+enabled to make his appearance here to-day. I shudder to think what
+might have been his fate had the vile conspiracy I am unmasking been
+allowed to proceed, and had the conspirators been allowed to leave the
+court. In a charge so serious, and in circumstances so strange and
+unprecedented, I am confident that your worship and my learned friend
+for the prosecution will allow me every latitude; and in furtherance
+of this appeal I ask to be permitted to suspend the examination of
+Monsieur Joseph Pitou, for the purpose of examining the two new
+witnesses who are manifestly unfit to remain for a long time in the
+air of this Court."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I have no objection to offer."
+
+"I thank my learned friend. Let Gracie Death go into the witness box."
+
+But before this could be done Gracie was seized with a fit of coughing
+which terribly shook her slight frame. There were few among the
+spectators that did not pity the child, who made brave efforts to
+check the cough, and who, when it was over, looked lovingly at her
+mother, and said,
+
+"It's all right, mother, don't you worry about it; only I've had to
+hold it back so long!"
+
+Then, all eyes upon her, she was assisted into the witness box, and a
+stool placed for her to stand upon, Detective Lambert stationing
+himself by her side to render her assistance if she needed it. When
+the Bible was handed to her the magistrate asked if she understood the
+nature of an oath; she replied that she was to tell the truth, the
+whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that she didn't mean to
+tell anything else. This being deemed satisfactory she was sworn, and
+her examination proceeded with.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Gracie Death."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"I shall be thirteen soon, sha'n't I, mother?"
+
+"You left your home last Tuesday morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I did, and I was sorry for mother because I knew she'd
+worry. But I had to."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because of Dick."
+
+The Magistrate: "Who is Dick?"
+
+"Dick Remington, my lordship."
+
+The magistrate was not the only one who smiled at the form of this
+reply.
+
+"What had Dick to do with your leaving your home? Tell us as much as
+you can?"
+
+"Well, sir, Dick and me had gone partners to find father, and to find
+out who murdered Samuel Boyd. I was sure father didn't do it, though a
+lot of people was wicked enough to say so, and Dick was sure Mr.
+Reginald didn't do it, and I believed what Dick believed, so I was
+sure, too. Dick was the captain of the ship, and I was first mate. He
+gave me things to do, and I did 'em as well as I could. I found
+out that Dr. Vinsen wasn't Dr. Vinsen at all, but Ezra Lynn, a
+money-lender. I always knew he was no good--yes, I did, mother! And I
+caught the sham doctor talking to Mr. Rawdon, the ironmonger, the man
+that was on the jury, and I saw him go into his shop. Well, when I saw
+the notice posted up in Catchpole Square that Dick had gone away, I
+couldn't make it out, though I knew that Dick was doing the right
+thing--he always does, you know--but I didn't like to be left out of
+it. I went to Mrs. Inspector Robson, who's been I can't tell you how
+kind to me--and so has Mr. Inspector Robson and that poor young lady
+there--but she couldn't say where Dick was, and I was that worried
+you'd hardly believe. Wait a bit, please--there's that cough of mine
+coming back again." After a silence of a minute or so, except for the
+hollow, rasping sounds she made, she said, with an odd kind of
+pathetic resignation, "It's taking it out of me now because I wouldn't
+let it have its way when it wanted to. I didn't dare, you know. Well,
+I worried and worried, and last Monday night I had my dream again."
+
+"What dream?"
+
+"About father. I've had it I don't know how many times, and every time
+father's come crying out to me to save him and to look for him in
+Catchpole Square. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I kept on thinking
+and thinking about it, and then I heard that Dick was taken up for the
+murder, and I had him to save as well as father. He'd been caught
+coming out of the house, where he'd been watching since Friday, so I
+says to myself, 'What Dick can do I can do,' and I makes up my mind to
+watch as he'd done, on the chance of catching the murderers. Dick said
+they'd been there, you know, and if they come once they might come
+again, all the more now that Dick was out of the way. That's where
+I've been from Tuesday night up till now."
+
+"How did you get into the house?"
+
+"Didn't Dick tell you? It's through the next house, where you can push
+open the door at the bottom of the steps. Then you go down to the
+cellar, and there's some bricks in the wall that you can take out and
+put back again. That's the way you get into the cellar of Samuel
+Boyd's house. There's a trap door in the ceiling that you can reach by
+standing on a broken chair; you push it up and scramble through, and
+there you are in Samuel Boyd's kitchen. I showed it to Dick, and
+perhaps he made use of it when he didn't want anybody to know how he
+got in and out of Mr. Boyd's house. And you can put everything back
+that artful that it'd take a clever one to find it out. So there I was
+in the house, with a loaf of bread that I bought with some money Dick
+give me. The water was on, and with that and the bread there was no
+fear of my starving for a little while. Nobody come on Tuesday night,
+and I kept myself snug. And nobody come on Wednesday. But I wouldn't
+give it up as a bad job, and I kept on watching and listening all day
+yesterday. Well, I don't know how late in the night it was, but I
+think it must have been two or three in the morning, when I heard
+somebody talking to somebody else in the downstairs passage. They
+talked very soft, but I heard 'em, and then they crept upstairs, and I
+slips into my hiding place, and watches through a chink. For I says to
+myself, 'If they come anywhere they'll come into the office.'"
+
+"Where was your hiding place?"
+
+"You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father
+worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's
+hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the
+side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room,
+and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the
+pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and
+there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the
+office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I
+hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my
+throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't
+you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in,
+without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently
+they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the
+ground. I knew why they did that--so that the light couldn't be seen
+through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being
+to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued
+to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them."
+
+"Did you know them?"
+
+"One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though."
+
+"We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see
+the other man?"
+
+Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in
+the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but
+with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the
+dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would
+come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a
+question.
+
+Gracie: "Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, "It is
+Dr. Pye," whereupon an officer cried, "Order in the court!" But,
+irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the
+prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.
+
+Gracie: "That is the other man."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain."
+
+Gracie: "I am. The other man is Dr. Pye."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Still you may be mistaken?"
+
+Gracie: "I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't
+another man in the world like him."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Well, you saw them. What happened next?"
+
+Gracie: "They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they
+were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to
+talk louder. Dr. Vinsen--I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't
+his proper name, but it comes easier--he said it was madness to come
+into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute.
+He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye
+called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office--father used
+to tell of it--and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a
+corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and
+poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye
+laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying
+to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you
+squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen
+cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your
+knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began
+to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing
+and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen
+said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be
+hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again,
+'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I
+couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things
+don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr.
+Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and
+vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr.
+Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil!
+Soon afterwards I heard father's name--I don't know which one spoke
+it--and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little
+while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them
+leaving the room."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Stop a moment or two, and get your breath."
+
+Gracie: "Let me go on, please--I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he
+feeling any better?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Yes. With your permission, your worship."
+
+A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was
+given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and
+implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with
+her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were
+stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an
+affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and
+kissed him, sobbing,
+
+"Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!"
+
+No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,
+
+"Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!"
+
+In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained;
+she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her
+again and again.
+
+"You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?" asked Gracie, in a
+low tone. "If I hadn't, father might never have been found."
+
+"My darling, my darling!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "It was I who was
+wrong--you were right all through."
+
+"Never mind that now, mother," Gracie said. "Let me go on, or the
+gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!"
+
+Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police
+Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the
+officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a
+pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and
+even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, "I should like to
+do something for that little heroine," the ushers forgot to cry,
+"Silence in the court!"
+
+Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's
+tender clasp): "May I go on, now, sir?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving
+the room.'"
+
+Gracie: "I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I
+was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and
+through the door of the little room into the passage. They were
+downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so
+down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the
+street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch
+'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then
+I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of
+the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me
+the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool--you've spilt
+'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they
+were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because
+everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw
+what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a
+shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if
+you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel
+in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw
+the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole.
+Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a
+minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for
+it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd
+done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they
+hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the
+panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went,
+without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of
+water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid
+ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under
+Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got
+to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them
+do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that
+aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I
+didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my
+blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from
+screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At
+first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read,
+that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was
+warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir,
+though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father.
+'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he
+answered. 'It's little Gracie!'"
+
+Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with
+extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the
+lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her
+lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering
+sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators
+gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered
+by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the
+counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr.
+Pallaret addressed the court:
+
+"Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition
+to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with
+pity and horror--except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon
+be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can
+heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic
+heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been
+properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long
+sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small
+loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is
+indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has
+never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed
+by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds.
+Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your
+worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has
+established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of
+one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the
+discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be
+taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra
+Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering
+Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the
+concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call
+Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has
+made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under
+which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court."
+
+The Magistrate: "Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the
+witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be
+taken into my room, and every attention paid to them."
+
+When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear
+of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among
+the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings
+this morning in connection with this case."
+
+Detective Lambert: "From information received shortly after the case
+was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which
+has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man
+stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death,
+who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the
+night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has
+been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his
+home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time,
+and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An
+untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely
+accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at
+the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which
+he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly
+opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of
+two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so
+violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility;
+that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was
+discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed
+to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not
+release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and
+endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had
+concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to
+other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure;
+that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened
+with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that
+insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into
+unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a
+state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this
+treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received,
+that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from
+the point at which Gracie Death left it.
+
+"She remained with her father all night, being afraid to leave him
+because Dr. Pye, when he passed through the cellar shortly before she
+entered it, had threatened to come back and force him to take
+something which would send him into a sleep from which he would never
+wake. In daytime very little light can penetrate the cellar, and by
+this dim light Gracie Death saw the door which led to the upper parts
+of the house. She tried it, and found it was locked from the outside.
+She knew that Dr. Pye had to attend the police court to-day to give
+evidence in this case, and she thought it best to wait till he was
+gone, and then to get back to the house in Catchpole Square through
+the tunnel, and go for assistance to release her father. He was so
+securely tied, and the ropes that bound him were so thick, that she
+could not undo them, and there was nothing in the cellar with which
+she could cut them. No food was brought to Mr. Death this morning,
+which perhaps was fortunate, as it would have led to the discovery of
+Gracie. The little girl had to judge the time at which Dr. Pye was due
+in this court, and it happens that she did so very accurately, for the
+detective who was watching Dr. Pye's house informed me that it was a
+little after eleven o'clock when he saw her running up and down Shore
+Street in search of a policeman. He went up to her and told her who he
+was, and having heard her strange story, first sent me a note which
+was delivered to me in court shortly after I had given my evidence,
+and then endeavoured to obtain admission into Dr. Pye's house. To all
+appearance it was empty, for no one answered his knocks at the door,
+and matters were at a standstill until my arrival. As we could not
+break open the front door I obtained a ladder and set it against the
+back window that looks out on Catchpole Square, the window through
+which Dr. Pye said he threw the flashlight. There was a shutter to the
+window which I forced open; Gracie had followed me up the ladder, and
+I assisted her into the room, in which I observed two new travelling
+trunks. I did not stop to examine them, but ran down to the street
+door, and admitted two constables I had sent for. I may state here
+that there were no servants in the house. Then we hastened to the
+cellar, the door of which we forced, and found Mr. Abel Death, as his
+daughter has described. When we got him into one of the better rooms,
+and took the ropes off him, he was so weak that it was impossible to
+bring him to the court, and I despatched a line to the counsel for the
+defence giving him certain information, and saying I hoped to be in
+attendance with the two new witnesses in the course of an hour or two.
+While restoratives were being given to Mr. Death I searched the house,
+and found a mass of account books and documents which had belonged to
+Mr. Samuel Boyd. I found also some articles of clothing which I
+believe will be found to have been worn by him. There was one complete
+suit of grey, and an overcoat with a fur collar. Lady Wharton will
+perhaps be able to say whether the man who visited her in Bournemouth
+wore a suit of that colour and a coat of that description."
+
+Lady Wharton (from the body of the court): "He did." Detective
+Lambert: "One of the trunks was packed and locked, and it appeared to
+me that preparations had been made for flight. The other trunk was
+only partly packed, and was not locked. This I opened and searched. At
+the top, in receptacles which must have been made expressly for them,
+were a number of works of art in bronze, ivory, and porcelain, which I
+should judge were very valuable. At the bottom of the trunk was a
+packet which I unfastened. It contained deeds and acceptances of
+various kinds, some signed by Lord Wharton and Lord Fairfax, also some
+jewels answering to the description of those which were obtained from
+Lady Wharton by fraud at Bournemouth. By the time I had made this
+cursory examination Mr. Death was sufficiently recovered to be brought
+to the court with his daughter Gracie. I left two constables in charge
+of the house, and hastened here at once." Mr. Pallaret (to the
+magistrates): "Upon the evidence presented to you I now apply for the
+discharge of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington."
+
+The Magistrate: "Has the counsel for the Crown anything to say?"
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I offer no opposition. There were circumstances of grave
+suspicion against the accused which warranted their arrest, but the
+light thrown upon the case appears to leave no doubt of their
+innocence."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I thank my learned friend."
+
+The Magistrate: "The accused are discharged."
+
+Florence and Aunt Rob rose from their seats in joyful agitation, the
+tears streaming from their eyes, and their arms stretched forth to
+embrace the young men, whose progress was impeded by the throng of
+sympathising spectators eager to shake hands with them. In the midst
+of the confusion the piercing voice of the French detective, Joseph
+Pitou, was heard, calling for a doctor. A sudden hush fell upon the
+Court, and all eyes were turned upon the detective, who had resumed
+his place behind Dr. Pye. Upon leaving the witness box Detective
+Lambert had stepped to the side of Dr. Vinsen, and had laid his hand
+upon the miscreant's arm. Detected, and in the power of the law, the
+wretch now stood in an attitude of abject fear.
+
+One of the spectators recalled that while Detective Lambert was giving
+his evidence he noticed that Dr. Pye gave a sudden start, and that a
+moment or two afterwards he shuddered and drooped his head. He
+ascribed this to the agitation caused by the revelations that were
+being made.
+
+"A doctor--a doctor!" screamed Joseph Pitou.
+
+The physician who had been attending Abel Death and Gracie pushed his
+way with difficulty to the French detective, and raised Dr. Pye's
+head. There was a faint smile on his lips, expressive both of triumph
+and contempt.
+
+"Well? Well?" cried Joseph Pitou to the doctor.
+
+The physician unclasped the silent man's fingers, and took from his
+hand a small bronze instrument in the shape of a ball. A pressure on
+one end of this ball released three needles, still slightly damp with
+the liquid which had flowed to the points. With a grave look the
+physician smelt the liquid, and, with his hand upraised for silence,
+placed his ear to the heart of the man. An examination of his wrist
+showed several minute punctures, caused by the needles. In this way
+the deadly poison had been injected into his veins.
+
+"Well, well?" cried Joseph Pitou again.
+
+"He is dead," the physician replied.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+Despite this tragic incident there was a scene of unparallelled
+enthusiasm when the principal actors in the day's proceedings were
+leaving the Court. The news had spread with the rapidity of lightning,
+and crowds of people flocked to the spot; it was with difficulty the
+police kept the approaches from being congested. As regards Gracie the
+enthusiasm assumed the proportions of an ovation. Cheers were raised
+for her, men and women stood on tiptoe to obtain a glimpse of her.
+Lady Wharton stooped and kissed her, and pressed a bank note into her
+hand. Gracie lifted her eyes gratefully, and gave the note to her
+mother. Aunt Rob and Florence, the happy tears still in their eyes,
+with Uncle Rob and Reginald and Dick, fluttered about her.
+
+"Will you come home with us, Gracie?" asked Aunt Rob, with a tender
+caress. "And you, Mr. and Mrs. Death?"
+
+"No, thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Death. "We must go to our little
+ones."
+
+"They haven't seen father for ever so long, ma'am," added Gracie. "Did
+they ask for me, mother?"
+
+"Yes, my darling, every day, over and over again. How glad they'll be!
+How happy and grateful I am!"
+
+"I will take you home in my carriage," said Lady Wharton, and then
+energetically to her brother, "Fairfax, what _do_ you think of her?"
+
+"Little brick," said Lord Fairfax.
+
+Lady Wharton turned to the men and women who were pressing round them.
+"Do keep off, good people, and let the child have air. You'll be the
+death of her with your kindness."
+
+"Dick!" said Gracie, putting her hand in his.
+
+"God bless you, Gracie!" he said, kissing her.
+
+"You'll come and see us, Dick."
+
+"I am coming to-night, Gracie."
+
+With her arms round his neck he carried her to the carriage.
+
+A beautiful light shone in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXV.
+
+                     FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."
+
+
+"The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day,
+where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments of
+this monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A full
+report of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge the
+masters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable and
+extraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time nor
+the space for a careful consideration of all the features of this
+Mystery-murder--no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of the
+child-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with the
+son of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilest
+conspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully into
+all the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementing
+the report of the police court proceedings and incidents by such
+further particulars as have come to our knowledge.
+
+"Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before the
+magistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to make
+confession, with the view of showing that he was not the actual
+perpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon this
+rumour, confident that justice will be done.
+
+"Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were found
+the brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notorious
+criminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult to
+speak; from the little that is known of it a strange study is
+presented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments,
+it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the science
+of alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be,
+is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, to
+which mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic,
+and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy once
+acknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in the
+world dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears to
+have been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regarded
+even the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionary
+ends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to be
+deplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate his
+crimes on the scaffold.
+
+"What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeter
+and more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this we
+but echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when she
+issued from the police court that the people would have carried her
+through the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, and
+she and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton's
+carriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay our
+tribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities she
+displayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family from
+poverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating our
+wishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in our
+to-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, their
+contributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign.
+We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of five
+pounds."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+                                 JOY.
+
+
+There was joy almost too great for utterance in two London homes that
+night. After partaking of a wonderful meal provided by Lady Wharton,
+Gracie's little brothers and sisters had the treat of sitting up late
+to look at father, who, weak as he was, would not go to bed, but
+reclined in an armchair lent by a sympathising neighbour--ah, how
+sweet and beautiful is the kindness of the poor to the poor!--and with
+Gracie's hand in his, gazed with gratitude upon the dear ones to whom
+he had been almost miraculously restored. It seemed as if the dark
+clouds which had hung for so many weary years over his life had
+vanished, and that there lay before him the sure promise of better
+times. Lady Wharton had asked him if he would not like to live in the
+country with his wife and children. There was, she said, a cottage
+large enough for them all, and a garden, and she offered to find
+employment on her estate for the poor London clerk. A vision of
+paradise--fairy scenes, with good food, and decent clothes, and
+flowers, and grass, and trees, and heaven knows what wonders. In fancy
+they heard the birds singing, and saw the white lambs in the meadows.
+But nothing was settled, it was only talked about.
+
+"And if you don't care to live in the country," said the kind-hearted
+lady before she left them, "we'll find something for you here in
+London."
+
+Then, with a silver shilling to each of the children, she and her
+brother bade them a merry good night. The treasure was now hidden in
+six little hot palms, which every now and then were opened just wide
+enough for a peep--to make sure that it had not spread its wings and
+flown away.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+There was a prayer in the hearts of Aunt Rob's family as they sat
+round the tea table, and joyful tears that would not be repressed. For
+here was Aunt Rob singing and crying at the same time, and breaking
+down, and kissing Florence and Reginald and Dick and Uncle Rob, and
+then singing again with a happy sob in her throat, and saying in the
+midst of it all.
+
+"Oh, Dick, Dick, how shall we ever repay you!"
+
+If Gracie was the heroine in her humble home, he was the hero in
+Aunt Rob's, but both of them were inclined to rebel against this
+hero-worship, and made little of what they had done.
+
+Certain things had been discussed, and certain plans laid, by Aunt
+Rob's family, which needed to be carried out that night, and carried
+out they were. At eight o'clock they walked up the stairs in Draper's
+Mews, and being admitted were gladly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Death
+and the children. Not because of the store of food and wine and
+jellies they brought with them, but genuinely for their own sakes.
+Where they all found room to sit is one of those wonders which are
+never to be explained, but find room they did, and they talked and
+talked, and the children listened and listened, and Gracie sat by
+Dick's side on the poor bed, and wine was drunk by the elder people
+and tasted by the younger, and Abel Death's eyes brightened, and Dick,
+suddenly recollecting, pulled out a bag of brandyballs, which he gave
+to the youngsters. And then Reginald put a piece of paper into
+Gracie's hand.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, and looking at it, trembled so that she had
+to hold Dick tight. "Mother--father--look!"
+
+"It will be paid at the bank to-morrow," said Reginald. "Dick will go
+with you to get the money."
+
+"Two--hundred--pounds!" gasped Gracie.
+
+"For finding Mr. Abel Death," said Reginald. "And, oh, Gracie, how
+thankful I am to pay it!"
+
+Gracie hid her face on Dick's breast. When she raised her head there
+were no tears in her eyes, but the same beautiful light in them that
+Dick had seen once before that day.
+
+"You'll be all right now, father," she said, giving him the cheque.
+
+"God is very good to us!" murmured Mrs. Death, and then all the
+foolish women in the room began to sob.
+
+
+
+                               THE END.
+
+
+
+                      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
+England_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
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+<title>Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square. A Mystery.</title>
+<meta name="Author" content="Benjamin Leopold Farjeon">
+
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+<meta name="Date" content="1899">
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+
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+       A Mystery
+
+Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+Release Date: July 12, 2013 [EBook #43198]
+Last Updated: August 16, 2015
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by
+Google Books. (New York Public Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br>
+<br>
+1. Page scan provided by:<br>
+Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=FwQoAAAAMAAJ<br>
+(New York Public Library)</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h1>SAMUEL BOYD</h1>
+
+<h2>OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE</h2>
+
+<h3><i>A MYSTERY</i></h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3><span class="sc">By</span> B. L. FARJEON</h3>
+<h5>Author of &quot;The Iron-Master&quot;</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4><i>NEW YORK</i></h4>
+<h3>NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY</h3>
+<h4><i>LONDON</i></h4>
+<h3>HUTCHINSON AND CO.</h3>
+<h4>1899</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * * * * * *</h4>
+<h5><i>Printed by Hazell, Watson, &amp; Viney, London and Aylesbury, England</i>.</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<table style="width:80%; margin-left:10%">
+<colgroup><col valign="top" style="width:10%"><col style="width:90%" valign="top"></colgroup>
+<tr>
+<td colspan="2">
+<h3>CONTENTS.</h3>
+<br>
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * * *</h4></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>CHAP.</td>
+<td></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>I.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">ABEL DEATH AT WORK.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>II.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>III.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>IV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">SILENCE REIGNS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>V.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>VIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A
+PRINCE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>IX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>X.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE SERVICE OF
+SAMUEL BOYD.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND PICKED UP IN
+CATCHPOLE SQUARE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XIX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+OPERATIONS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_20" href="#div1_20">DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_21" href="#div1_21">THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_22" href="#div1_22">DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE WORD.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_23" href="#div1_23">FLORENCE AND REGINALD.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_24" href="#div1_24">DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_25" href="#div1_25">LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_26" href="#div1_26">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_27" href="#div1_27">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_28" href="#div1_28">THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXIX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_29" href="#div1_29">A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_30" href="#div1_30">REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_31" href="#div1_31">SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_32" href="#div1_32">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S&quot; REPORT OF THE INQUEST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_33" href="#div1_33">SCENES IN COURT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_34" href="#div1_34">GATHERING CLOUDS.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_35" href="#div1_35">LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_36" href="#div1_36">THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_37" href="#div1_37">DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_38" href="#div1_38">DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XXXIX. </td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_39" href="#div1_39">GRACE MAKES A DISCOVERY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XL.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_40" href="#div1_40">THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_41" href="#div1_41">HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_42" href="#div1_42">A FAMILY COUNCIL.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_43" href="#div1_43">AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_44" href="#div1_44">IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_45" href="#div1_45">CROSS PURPOSES.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_46" href="#div1_46">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S&quot; REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION OF THE
+INQUEST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_47" href="#div1_47">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE INQUEST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_48" href="#div1_48">THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>XLIX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_49" href="#div1_49">LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>L.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_50" href="#div1_50">EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_51" href="#div1_51">A DEAD LOCK.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_52" href="#div1_52">ARRESTED FOR MURDER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_53" href="#div1_53">GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_54" href="#div1_54">EXTRACTS FROM &quot;THE BUSY BEE&quot; OF FRIDAY, THE 15TH OF MARCH,
+1896.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_55" href="#div1_55">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_56" href="#div1_56">EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT, DETECTIVE
+OFFICER.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LVII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_57" href="#div1_57">DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LVIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_58" href="#div1_58">THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LIX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_59" href="#div1_59">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LX.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_60" href="#div1_60">FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_61" href="#div1_61">FROM &quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; OF THURSDAY, MARCH 21ST.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_62" href="#div1_62">AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXIII.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_63" href="#div1_63">CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXIV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_64" href="#div1_64">A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXV.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_65" href="#div1_65">FROM &quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE.&quot;</a></td>
+</tr><tr>
+<td>LXVI.</td>
+<td><a name="div1Ref_66" href="#div1_66">JOY.</a></td>
+</tr></table>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h2>SAMUEL BOYD<br>
+OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE.</h2>
+<br>
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * *</h4>
+<h3><i>A MYSTERY</i>.</h3>
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * *</h4>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">ABEL DEATH AT WORK.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">At six o'clock in the evening of the first day of March, in the year
+of Grace, 1898, Abel Death, a man of middle age, with a face
+appropriate to his name--which should never be given to any living
+human being--was sitting at his desk, employed in the task of writing
+the last of a number of letters, in accordance with the instructions
+of his employer, Mr. Samuel Boyd, of No. 6, Catchpole Square, in the
+North district of London. The letters all referred to Money: to Money
+due for principal and interest, and to warnings and threats of what
+would be done in case prompt payment was not made at such and such an
+hour on such and such a day. Uncompromising and relentless to the
+point of cruelty, debtors were told in plain terms that ruin was their
+portion if Mr. Boyd's demands were not complied with.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death appeared to be just the kind of man for the task he was
+executing, being hollow cheeked and sunken eyed; his hands were long
+and lean, his movements eager and restless. Clad in shabby and badly
+fitting clothes, he did not belie the position he occupied, that of an
+ill paid drudge working long hours for a hard taskmaster.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The room in which he sat, and in which his daily duties were
+performed, could scarcely be called an office. From the number of
+singular articles it contained it might have been a curiosity shop, or
+the store-room of a dealer in the miscellaneous goods of the earth to
+whose net everything that presented itself was more or less marketable
+fish. Here was a massive safe fast bedded in the wall and securely
+locked; here a grand piano, locked; here weapons and armour of all
+nations, and pictures in which lay dumb stories of fruitless genius
+and disappointed ambition; here pieces of valuable china and
+<i>bric-à-brac</i>; here some dozens of wine of a rare vintage; here
+hangings of old tapestry; here (the oddest feature in the
+heterogeneous collection) a waxwork figure, holding in its
+outstretched hand a cane stick of the reign of Charles the Second;
+and, scattered in all directions, but still with some kind of method
+in the order of their disposal, a great variety of other oddments: all
+taken for debt, and all representing, in different degrees, despairing
+hopes and reckless extravagance and prodigality which had come to a
+bad end.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The apartment was large and lofty, with panelled walls and doors of
+oak. The ceiling was covered with paintings of flying angels, and
+nymphs, and festive landscape-scenes after the style of Watteau,
+barely discernible through the accumulated dust of years; the mantel
+and fireplace were richly carved in many a quaint and curious device,
+the beauty of which was defaced by smoke and ill usage and neglect.
+The house itself was very old, and these evidences of decay forcibly
+illustrated how low it had fallen from its once high estate. For
+assuredly in years long since passed by it had been inhabited by
+persons of wealth and fashion and good taste. Time was, indeed, when
+these walls resounded to gay music and revelry, when satin-slippered
+feet glided over the polished floor, and bright eyes smiled, and bold
+lips murmured into beauty's ears. Here shone the sunny aspects of
+life; here gladness reigned; here all the luxurious ways of fortune's
+favourites were in their outward show at their best and bravest.
+Nothing of this was apparent now. The men and women who had trod these
+flowery paths were dust and ashes, and the dwelling was the abode of
+one who held fashion and good taste in contemptuous disregard, and
+whose principal aim in life was the driving of hard bargains and the
+making of money.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Having finished the last letter Abel Death descended from his stool to
+stretch and refresh himself. From the pocket of a threadbare coat
+which hung upon a nail he took a paper containing a couple of
+sandwiches, and cast a longing look at the bottles of wine, a thirsty
+movement of his lips betokening the nature of his thoughts. But he did
+not venture to lay his hand upon them, knowing full well that strict
+account was kept, and that if he appropriated but a single bottle the
+offence would be detected the moment his employer entered; so he took
+his fate in his hands by extracting from his coat a twisted paper of
+tea and another twisted paper of brown sugar which he emptied into a
+teapot. A very small fire was burning, and he stood and watched the
+boiling of a tiny kettle of water. As he poured the water into the
+teapot he heard a knock at the street door, which he did not take the
+trouble to answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A trap,&quot; he muttered, pouring the tea into a chipped cup. &quot;No, no,
+Mr. Boyd. You don't get me to open the door for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He suspected a ruse. He had received instructions not to answer a
+knock, nor to admit any person into the house during Mr. Boyd's
+absence, and the conditions of his engagement were strict and onerous,
+the most trifling transgression of the rules laid down being visited
+with a fine. When, therefore, the knock was repeated a second time he
+shook his head with a smile, and proceeded with his scanty meal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It did not take him long to get to the end of it; and presently, when
+he heard the opening and the shutting of the street door, followed by
+steps on the stairs, he mounted to his stool, and bent his head over
+the books.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that you, Mr. Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He almost fell off his stool, for it was not the voice he expected to
+hear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A young man of gentlemanly appearance confronted him with an
+ingenuous, open countenance; with an honest eye and a graceful manner.
+In the teeth of these advantages there was an expression of anxiety on
+his face which denoted that his errand was one upon which grave issues
+depended.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You, Mr. Reginald!&quot; exclaimed Abel Death, staring open mouthed at the
+visitor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you see, Mr. Death,&quot; replied Mr. Reginald. &quot;You are still in the
+old place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Mr. Reginald, yes, still in the old place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald's eyes travelled round the room. &quot;Where's my father?&quot; he
+asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death answered in Irish fashion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did you get in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald held up a key.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You don't mean to say----&quot; stammered Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That I stole it?&quot; said Mr. Reginald. &quot;No. It is the old key which I
+took away with me when I left this house----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For ever,&quot; interposed Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not exactly, or I should not be here now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is what he told me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is what he told <i>me</i>.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His word is law in this house, Mr. Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will not discuss the subject. I ask you again, where is my
+father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When will he be back?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know--I can't tell you. He has his ways. He likes to leave
+people in uncertainty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Mr. Reginald. As well as ever. There is no change in him--no
+change!&quot; He said this in the tone of a man who would not have grieved
+at a change for the worse in his employer's health.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald drew a silver watch from his pocket. &quot;It is six o'clock.
+My time is my own. I will wait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I earnestly beg you not to, Mr. Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would be difficult for me to get another situation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I understand. I have no wish to injure you. I will call later.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should not advise you. Earnestly, I should not advise you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't ask your advice. I must see him, I tell you. I intend to see
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I give it up. I am sorry you have come down in the world, Mr.
+Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man looked at the clerk with a curious contraction of his
+brows. &quot;How do you arrive at that conclusion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death tapped his waistcoat pocket. &quot;It used to be a gold one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now I call that clever of you,&quot; said Mr. Reginald, half merrily, half
+lugubriously, &quot;but <i>your</i> lines have not been cast in pleasant places;
+you should know something of the process.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do,&quot; said Abel Death, in a dismal tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the watch I now wear is an indication of my having come down in
+the world, why, then, I <i>have</i> had a tumble. Am I interrupting your
+work?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have the books to make up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll leave you to them. Would it be unfair to ask you to tell my
+father that I will call again at ten o'clock? He is sure to be
+disengaged at that hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very unfair, Mr. Reginald. I wouldn't venture to tell him that I'd
+seen you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In that case I'll not trouble you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if you do call again, Mr. Reginald, I beg you, as a particular
+favour, not to mention your present visit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have my promise.&quot; He turned to go, but paused to glance at the
+strange collection of goods in the room. &quot;My father gets plenty of odd
+things about him. I see stories of wreckage in them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not our wreckage, Mr. Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Mr. Reginald under his breath as he left the room, &quot;other
+people's.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death experienced a feeling of relief when he heard the street
+door slammed in token that Mr. Reginald was gone. Whatever his
+thoughts may have been with reference to that young gentleman he did
+not give audible utterance to them, but an occasional shake of his
+head as he worked at the books, and an occasional pause during which
+he rested his chin upon the palm of his hand in reflection, were an
+evidence that though Mr. Reginald was out of sight he was not out of
+mind. At first he worked rapidly to make up for lost time, but at the
+end of an hour or so his pen travelled more slowly over the paper, his
+task being nearly completed. He had lighted two candles stuck in
+common tin candlesticks, and had pulled down the blind, for night was
+coming on. The feeble glimmer of these candles, which were long and
+thin, threw light only upon the desk at which he was working; the
+distant spaces in the room were in deep shadow, and an occasional
+shifting of a candle seemingly imbued many of the objects by which he
+was surrounded with a weird and fitful life. This was especially the
+case with the wax figure, which was that of a Chinaman who might have
+come straight from the Chamber of Horrors, so ghastly was its face in
+this dim light. Being not quite firm on its legs any hurried movement
+in its direction caused it to quiver as though it were set on wires;
+and once, when Abel Death threw a heavy ledger from his desk on to the
+table, the oscillation of the figure was sufficiently fantastic to
+have engendered the fancy that it was preparing to leap upon the
+living man and do him violence. Neither Mr. Samuel Boyd nor Abel Death
+could have informed a curious inquirer who the figure was intended to
+represent. It came from the house of a modeller in wax, to whom Mr.
+Boyd had lent a small sum of money, and who, when he was pressed for
+payment, himself brought it to Catchpole Square as the only asset he
+could offer in discharge of the debt. &quot;It is all I possess,&quot; said the
+man mournfully, who had hoped to soften the heart of his creditor by
+his tale of distress. &quot;Then I'll take it,&quot; said Mr. Samuel Boyd.
+&quot;You'd take my blood, I believe,&quot; cried the man savagely. &quot;I would,&quot;
+retorted Mr. Boyd, &quot;if there was a market for it.&quot; &quot;Keep it, then,&quot;
+said the man, flinging himself from the room. &quot;It's brought me nothing
+but bad luck all the time I have been at work on it. May it bring the
+same to you!&quot; Mr. Boyd laughed; he did not believe in omens, nor in
+sentiment, nor in mercy to any person in his debt. He believed only in
+Money.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The day's work over, Abel Death sat awhile so deep in thought and so
+still and quiet that he might have been taken for one of the inanimate
+objects in this strangely furnished apartment. He had removed the
+candles from the desk to the table, where they flickered in the
+draught of a broken window, into which some rags had been thrust to
+keep out the wind. Within the radius of the flickering light the
+shadows on the walls and ceiling grew more weird and grotesque, each
+gust of air creating insubstantial forms and shapes as monstrous as
+the fancies of a madman's brain. Catchpole Square was a blind
+thoroughfare--being, as has been elsewhere described, like a bottle
+with a very narrow neck to it--and was therefore undisturbed by the
+tumult of the city's streets; and the prevailing silence, in which
+there was something deathly, was broken only by the sobbing and
+moaning of the rising wind which, having got into the Square, was
+making despairing efforts to get out. These sounds were in unison with
+the spectral life within the house, which seemed to find
+interpretation in the mystic voices of the air. It might have been so
+in very truth, for what know we of the forces of the invisible world
+through which we move and play our parts in the march from the cradle
+to the grave? Unfathomable mystery encompasses and mocks us, and no
+man can foretell at what moment he may be struck down and all his
+castles overturned, and all his plans for good or evil destroyed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death started to his feet. A stealthy step was on the stairs. The
+man coming up paused three or four times either to get his breath or
+for some other purpose; and presently he entered the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Samuel Boyd was a tall man, and bore a close resemblance to his
+son in certain expressions of countenance and in certain little
+mannerisms of gesture which in the younger man were indications of an
+open-hearted nature, and in the elder of a nature dominated by craft
+and cunning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're back in time, sir,&quot; said Abel Death, in a cringing tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Boyd made no immediate reply, being employed in looking
+distrustfully around to convince himself that nothing had been removed
+or disturbed. Even when he was assured of this the look of distrust
+did not die out of his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are the letters all written?&quot; he inquired, seating himself at the
+table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They are, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you posted up the books?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir. Everything is done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has any one called?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one, sir,&quot; promptly replied Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Any knocks at the street door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You lie! There was a letter in the box.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death's lips shaped themselves into the word, &quot;Beast!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What did you say?&quot; demanded Mr. Boyd, upon whom no movement on the
+part of his servant, however slight, was lost.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was going to say that the postman was no business of mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are getting too clever, Abel Death--too clever, too clever! The
+men I employ must do their work without spying, without blabbing,
+without lying.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have never found me unfaithful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have only your word for it. When did you know me take a man's
+word?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you never will. So--you did not go down to the postman when he
+knocked?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you have not been out of the house during my absence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor out of this room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! Is that so--is that so? You have your office coat on, and your
+office slippers. Had you not better change them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was going to do so, sir,&quot; said Abel Death. Mr. Boyd's keen eyes
+were upon him while he made the change. &quot;May I hope, sir, that you
+will grant the request you kindly promised to consider? It may be a
+matter of life or death, it may indeed. It means so much to me--so
+much! I humbly beg you, sir, to grant it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me see. You asked me for a loan.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A small loan, sir, of ten pounds. I have trouble and sickness at
+home, I am sorry to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is inconceivable,&quot; said Mr. Boyd coldly, &quot;that a man in regular
+employment should need a loan unless it is for the gratification of
+some unwarrantable extravagance. Your wages are paid regularly, I
+believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir. I don't complain, but it is not an easy task to keep a wife
+and family on twenty-two shillings a week. I don't know how it is,&quot;
+said Abel Death, rubbing his forehead as though he were endeavouring
+to rub some problem out of it, or some better understanding of a
+social difficulty into it, &quot;but when Saturday comes round we have
+never a sixpence left.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very likely. It is the old story of improvidence. Thrift, Abel,
+thrift. That is the lesson the poor have to learn, and never will
+learn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ten pounds, sir, only ten pounds,&quot; implored Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only ten pounds!&quot; exclaimed Mr. Boyd. &quot;Listen to him. He calls ten
+pounds a small sum. Why, it is to millions of men a fortune!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is truly that to me, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if I lend it to you,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, with a sneering smile, &quot;you
+will call down heaven's blessing upon me, you will remember me in your
+prayers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, yes,&quot; replied Abel Death confusedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is the question of security, Abel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am a poor man, sir, but I will do anything you wish. I will give
+you a bill--I will sign any paper you write out--I will pay you any
+interest you like to charge. You can deduct five shillings from my
+wages every week till the debt is cancelled. I shall be eternally
+grateful to you, sir.&quot; His agitation was so great that he could not
+proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Gratitude is no security,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, still with the sneering
+smile on his lips. &quot;Prayers and heaven's blessing are no security. No
+business man would lend a shilling on them. They are not Property. You
+remarked a moment ago that I had never found you unfaithful. I will
+put it to the test. Let me see the slippers you have taken off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My slippers, sir!&quot; stammered Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your slippers. I wish to see them.&quot; Puzzled by the singular request,
+and with inward misgivings, Abel Death lifted the slippers from the
+floor. &quot;Lay them on the table before me, soles upward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ruefully wondering what connection there could possibly be between his
+frayed and worn slippers and the question of unfaithfulness which Mr.
+Boyd had raised, he obeyed the order. His wonder increased when Mr.
+Boyd proceeded to examine the soles through a magnifying glass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will do,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, leaning back in his chair. &quot;You can
+pack them up with your office coat, and take them home with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I shall want them to-morrow, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not in my office, Abel Death. I discharge you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sir!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I discharge you. Here are your wages for a half week. You can claim
+no more. The conditions of your engagement with me were that in the
+event of the slightest violation of my orders you were to be
+immediately discharged without further notice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In what way have I violated your orders, sir?&quot; cried Abel Death,
+despairingly. &quot;Good heavens! This will be the ruin of me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have brought it on yourself. It is an ungrateful world, Abel, an
+ungrateful world. Robbery on all sides of us, treachery whichever way
+we turn. Do not send to me for a character; it will not assist you to
+obtain another situation.&quot; Abel Death gazed at the hard taskmaster in
+speechless consternation. &quot;I have suspected you for some time past,
+Abel----I beg your pardon, you were about to speak.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were. Come, come--be honest, Abel, be honest. It is the best
+policy. I have found it so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was in my mind to say, sir,&quot; said Abel Death, in a shaking voice,
+&quot;that you suspect everybody.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is the only way to protect oneself from being robbed. Keep this
+axiom before you; it is as good as capital, and will return you good
+interest. Suspecting you as I have done I laid a trap for you this
+afternoon--a simple, artless trap. Observe this thin piece of brown
+paper, observe this little piece of wax which I place upon it. Any
+person treading on it will carry away with him on the sole of his shoe
+both the paper and the wax. Do you follow me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir,&quot; said Abel Death, staring at the paper and moving his
+tongue over his dry lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before leaving the house this afternoon,&quot; continued Mr. Boyd, &quot;I
+deposited on the stairs eight very small pieces of this paper, each
+with a very small piece of wax on the top of it, and placed them on
+those parts of the stairs which a person coming up or going down would
+be most likely to tread. Is this quite clear to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite clear, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a singular thing, Abel, that upon the soles of your slippers I
+do not see one of those pieces of paper or any trace of wax.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It proves, sir,&quot; interposed Abel Death eagerly, &quot;that I spoke the
+truth when I declared that I had not left the room during your
+absence, and that I did not go down the stairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it does not prove, you dog, that no person came up the stairs
+during my absence!&quot; Abel Death fell back, confounded. &quot;Upon my return
+a few minutes ago I examined the stairs, and found only two of the
+eight pieces of paper I deposited there so carefully--so very
+carefully! Six pieces of the eight I placed there had affixed
+themselves to the soles of the shoes or boots worn by the person who
+entered this room while I was away. I asked you if any one had called.
+You answered no. It was a lie, a deliberate lie, a lie not to be
+explained away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you will listen to me, sir,&quot; said Abel Death, reduced to a state
+of abject fear, &quot;I think it <i>can</i> be explained away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am listening, Abel Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I made a mistake, sir--I confess it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, a mistake, and by such a clever man as you are!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not clever, sir--far from it. Every man is liable to error. A
+person <i>has</i> been in this room, but I did not open the door to him. He
+opened it himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What!&quot; cried Mr. Boyd, starting from his chair in mingled anger and
+alarm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, he opened it himself. How could I help that, sir--I ask
+you, how could I help that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A few moments elapsed before Mr. Boyd spoke; and during the silence he
+took a revolver from a drawer, which he unlocked for the purpose. Then
+he said slowly, &quot;Who was the man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your son, sir, Mr. Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My son! He was forbidden the house!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't help that, sir. He knocked three times at the street door,
+and bearing your instructions in mind I did not answer the knocks.
+When he came into the room I asked him how he had got in, and he
+produced the key he was in the habit of using when he lived here. He
+wanted to see you, and I told him you were not in. He said he would
+wait, and I begged him not to, because I knew you would be angry if
+you saw him here. Then he said he would call to see you later, and I
+begged him not to mention that he had been here; he gave me the
+promise and left the house. That is the whole truth of the matter,
+sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why were you so anxious that this visit should be kept a secret from
+me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I feared you might suspect that we were in--in----&quot; He could not hit
+upon the right word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In collusion,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, supplying it in accordance with his
+humour to place the worst construction upon the interview. &quot;In league
+to rob me. A fair and reasonable suspicion which the explanation I
+have dragged out of you does not remove. Have you anything more to
+say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing more,&quot; replied Abel Death, in a hopeless tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take up your money. You can go.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you will withdraw the discharge, sir--I entreat you to withdraw
+it. Think what it means to me--what it means to my family! Starvation,
+sir, starvation!&quot; He wrung his hands in despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have lied deliberately to me. Go--go and starve!--and never set
+foot inside this house again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Convinced now that any farther appeal would be unavailing, the look of
+misery in Abel Death's face changed to one of fury. He made a step
+towards the man who had doomed him to ruin, and who, thus threatened,
+held the revolver straight before him, with his finger on the trigger.
+Muttering, &quot;God help me!&quot; Abel Death took up the few shillings which
+Mr. Boyd had placed upon the table, and backed out of the room,
+followed by his employer, still armed with the revolver, and holding a
+candle above his head. Thus they went down to the street door, which
+Abel Death slowly opened. But before he left the house he turned and
+said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you believe in God?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; snarled Mr. Boyd, &quot;I believe in nothing!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Men have been struck dead for less,&quot; said Abel Death, pointing a
+shaking finger at him. &quot;Remember that, Samuel Boyd!&quot; And went his way
+with misery in his heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Boyd, undisturbed and with a smile of self-approval on his lips,
+closed the door and put up the chain. Then, with deliberate steps, and
+with no misgivings, he returned to his room.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A close and crafty face, masking a soul which knew no mercy and gave
+none. The grave holds its secrets, and holds them no less securely
+than Mr. Samuel Boyd, in his outward presentment to his fellow man,
+believed he held his. Whether the pursuit of pleasure for the
+delights--be they fair or foul--that pleasure brings, or the pursuit
+of wealth for the power it confers, was the dominant principle of this
+man's life, no human being could truthfully say, for no human being
+was admitted into his confidence. But one thing was certain. By
+whatever motive he may have been guided he held his way with absolute
+dependence on his own resources to triumph easily over every obstacle
+that might present itself. As to the manner in which these triumphs
+were obtained it mattered little to him whether he merely brushed
+aside the persons who opposed him, or trampled them into the dust.
+Their mortification, their sufferings, their destruction, concerned
+him not and did not trouble him. There are men who, in the
+contemplated execution of a crime, or in the pursuance of a base
+desire, listen to the voice of conscience before it is too late. Not
+so Mr. Samuel Boyd. He was harassed by no troubled dreams, by no weak
+fears of consequences, by no whisperings of an inconvenient
+conscience, by no spiritual warnings of Divine punishment for sinful
+deeds. For him, the entire range of the moral affections and of moral
+sentiments and conditions was expressed in one word: Self. It was for
+Self he lived and for Self alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such being the man it was not to be supposed that he was in any way
+affected by the sentence he had pronounced upon Abel Death, or that he
+gave a moment's thought to the poor clerk who was trudging home almost
+broken-hearted at the loss even of the miserable wage he received for
+duties faithfully performed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The letter he had taken from the letter box was from a lady who stated
+that she would call upon him at eight o'clock this evening. He had not
+long to wait, for by his watch he saw that it wanted but two minutes
+to eight; and punctually to the hour there came a rat-tat-tat at the
+street door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With no indication of haste he went down, and laughed slyly to himself
+when the knocking was repeated, more impatiently and peremptorily the
+second time than the first. He drew the door ajar leisurely, still
+keeping it on the chain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who wants Samuel Boyd?&quot; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who wants Samuel Boyd?&quot; answered a lady's voice. &quot;Upon my word! To
+keep a lady waiting in such a dreadful place as this, the entrance to
+which is so narrow that a carriage can't get into it! Open the door at
+once, man, and let me in!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As quickly as I can, my lady,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, fumbling at the chain.
+&quot;It is Lady Wharton, is it not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who else should it be, pray?&quot; replied the lady. &quot;And if Lady Wharton
+had known what kind of thoroughfare this was she would have thought
+twice before she'd have ventured into it.&quot; There was nothing querulous
+in the voice; it was hearty and bluff, with a cheerful ring in it very
+pleasant to the ear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Might a man so humble as Samuel Boyd inquire whether it is too late
+now for Lady Wharton to think better of it?&quot; asked Mr. Boyd,
+continuing to fumble at the chain.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Man alive! Of course it is. Oh, you've got it opened at last. Well,
+that's a blessing. If it takes as long to get out of the house as to
+get in I sha'n't be home till midnight. Remain where you are, John,
+and wait for me. If I don't make my appearance before ten o'clock
+shout for help at the top of your voice.&quot; These last words were
+addressed to a footman, who, holding a large green umbrella over her
+ladyship's head, had accompanied her from her carriage to the door of
+Mr. Boyd's dwelling. &quot;John is my confidential man,&quot; she was now
+addressing Mr. Boyd. &quot;I don't put my trust in women. They're a pack of
+artful, designing creatures. What men see in us to marry us passes my
+comprehension. If I were a man I'd want a sackfull of diamonds before
+I'd marry the handsomest among them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If your ladyship will kindly follow me,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, ascending the
+stairs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bless my soul!&quot; she exclaimed. &quot;The passage is as dark as a railway
+tunnel, and that parody of a candle in your hand makes matters worse.
+The stairs are safe, I hope? There are no trapdoors in them through
+which a defenceless woman might suddenly disappear?&quot; These words were
+accompanied with a ringing laugh which awoke the echoes in the almost
+deserted house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They are quite safe, my lady, quite safe. Permit me to welcome you to
+my poor abode.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were now in the room, around which Lady Wharton stared in
+amazement. She was a large-framed woman, well proportioned and with a
+perfect figure. There was a hearty good nature in her face which
+matched well with her brisk voice. Her eyes were bright, her movements
+quick and decided. Eminently a woman of management, of kindly heart,
+and one whose healthy physique and amiable disposition guided her to
+take a cheerful view of difficulties.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Heaven and earth, Mr. Boyd!&quot; she exclaimed. &quot;This is the oddest abode
+a man of means could select.&quot; Here she caught sight of the wax figure
+of the Chinaman, which caused her to retreat a step or two and to give
+utterance to a little scream.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be frightened, my lady, he's only wax. I took him for a debt;
+he was better than nothing, if only for melting down. All these things
+have been taken for debt. That is the way we are robbed; and the law
+gives us no redress, no redress.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor Mr. Boyd!&quot; said Lady Wharton, with twinkling eyes &quot;How very sad!
+Shall I lend you a five pound note?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should be very grateful, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She burst into a merry laugh. &quot;Singular creature! Shall we proceed to
+business?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my lady. Time is money. You will be comfortable in this chair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A strange contrast did they present as they sat on opposite sides of
+the table, the crafty, cringing face of the man looking into the
+cheery, good-humoured face of the lady.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Mr. Boyd, I am going to be quite frank with you.&quot; She placed her
+satchel on the table, and took some papers from it. &quot;My husband owes
+you a large sum of money. Look over these figures and tell me if they
+are correct.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite correct, my lady, but calculated only up to the last day of
+February, which was yesterday. One day's interest has to be added if
+you are prepared to pay to-night. Strictly speaking, it is two days'
+interest, it being now past the hour of business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course you know I am not prepared to pay to-night, and of course
+you know that I have come in the place of my husband because in
+matters of business he is a mere child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have not found him so, my lady,&quot; said Samuel Boyd. &quot;In my
+experience of his lordship I have seen nothing in him to cause me to
+think he is weak-minded. He came to me to borrow money, and I lent it
+to him on bills signed in his name. It was a risk, and I took it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, Mr. Boyd,&quot; said Lady Wharton, cheerfully. &quot;We have not met
+to contradict each other, or to raise up difficulties, but to come to
+such an arrangement as may be agreeable to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If your ladyship pleases,&quot; said Mr. Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At the same time,&quot; she continued, &quot;I wish to state how far my
+understanding went, when, Lord Wharton being ill in bed, I opened up a
+correspondence with you. I am very fond of my husband, Mr. Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His lordship is to be envied.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed I think he is,&quot; said Lady Wharton, with a little laugh, &quot;and I
+am to be envied, too, for having a husband so amiably inclined. But he
+is altogether too easy and careless in money matters; when he wishes
+for a thing, he will promise anything, consent to anything, sign
+anything, so long as he gets it. He is really like a child in these
+matters, and having made up my mind that he was not to be worried, I
+opened a letter which you wrote to him, and I replied to it. Now, Mr.
+Boyd, it was from that letter that I learned, for the first time, that
+Lord Wharton was in your debt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, indeed. I was not astonished. Nothing that Lord Wharton does
+astonishes me. He can get through a great deal of money. So can I. He
+is extravagant. So am I. What are you to do, Mr. Boyd, when you have
+been brought up to it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing but spend,&quot; said Samuel Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a man of sense. We can do nothing but spend--and between you
+and me, Mr. Boyd&quot;--here she laughed long and heartily--&quot;we <i>do</i> spend.
+Why not, when we can afford it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not, indeed?&quot; murmured Mr. Boyd, in ready acquiescence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But rich as people may be they are sometimes in need of ready money,
+and that, I suppose, is where gentlemen of your profession come in.
+Having now, in a manner of speaking, cleared the ground, we can go on
+easily. There are bills coming due.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I asked you in a letter what they amounted to; you answered, twelve
+thousand pounds. Now, Mr. Boyd, I should not like you to think that I
+want to take advantage of you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, my lady. I have been taken in so often that I am almost
+beginning to despair of human nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't, Mr. Boyd, don't. There is a great deal of good in human
+nature, and we can get a lot of fun out of life if we set about it the
+right way. I have consulted another person in this business, and he
+has advised me. My brother, Lord Fairfax. You have heard of him,
+perhaps. Yes? I thought you must; he is almost a celebrity, with his
+indolent and easy ways. It is in our blood; we object to be troubled.
+All we ask is that the world should go round as usual, and that our
+little wishes should be gratified. Lord Fairfax suggested that I
+should put the business into the hands of a lawyer.&quot; Mr. Boyd, with a
+scarcely perceptible motion, lifted his eyebrows. &quot;I said, no. We have
+a rooted objection to lawyers in our family; they make your head ache.
+'Quite right,' said Lord Fairfax. 'Have nothing to do with lawyers.'
+He never disputes, Mr. Boyd. The moment you say a thing he agrees to
+it. Then he said, 'Find out how much it amounts to.' I wrote to you,
+and you told me. You also sent me some bills, for the purpose of doing
+away with the old obligations, and putting the whole of the business
+on a new footing. These bills were to be accepted by Lord Wharton, and
+you strongly urged me to get another responsible name at the back of
+them. Lord Wharton signed the bills when I put them before him. The
+dear man hardly as much as looked at them. Then I went to Lord
+Fairfax, and <i>he</i> put his name on the back. <i>He</i> hardly as much as
+looked at them. And to cut a long matter short, Mr. Boyd, I have
+brought them with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She took them from her satchel, and handed them to Mr. Boyd, who
+examined them carefully, and jotted down figures on a piece of paper.
+Satisfactory as the transaction was to him no sign of satisfaction
+escaped him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are they in order, Mr. Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, they appear to be in order. I am making a great sacrifice for
+you, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We are under a great obligation to you. And now, Mr. Boyd, for a
+little piece of business on my own account. I want a thousand pounds
+for my private purse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A thousand pounds, my lady, a thousand pounds!&quot; murmured Mr. Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will <i>not</i> worry Lord Wharton with my dressmaker's bill, and she
+has begged me to let her have something on account. There are also one
+or two other little bills I wish to pay. Don't be alarmed; I am going
+to give you security. I have been looking through my jewellery, and I
+found some things that have gone out of fashion. I will not sell them,
+but I am willing to deposit them with you. Here they are. Oblige me by
+looking over them. Some of the cases would not go into my satchel, so
+I took them all out, and wrapped them in paper. I hope you won't
+mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not at all, my lady,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, opening the papers, which
+contained jewels of various kinds, bracelets, necklaces, ear-rings,
+brooches, and other gewgaws. Many of the precious stones were in old
+settings, and he saw at a glance that they were worth considerably
+more than the thousand pounds which this reckless lady of fashion
+wished to raise upon them. Among them were two ornaments of
+conspicuous beauty--a pearl necklace, and a device for the hair in the
+shape of a peacock's tail.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am reposing a great confidence in you,&quot; said Lady Wharton. &quot;The
+pearl necklace and the peacock's tail were presents from my
+father--they cost a great price, I believe--and I would not part with
+them for any consideration. In a few months I shall--shall--what is
+the word for it? Oh, yes, redeem them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You don't want the thousand pounds immediately, my lady?&quot; said Mr.
+Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My good man, I want it now, this minute.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible, my lady. I could not get it together in less than five or
+six days. If that will suit you----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton beat an impatient tattoo on the table with the tips of
+her fingers. &quot;Are you sure you could not get it earlier?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite sure, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It <i>must</i> suit me, then, but it is really very provoking. Lord
+Wharton is ordered into the country, and we are going to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can send you a cheque through the post.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I should prefer to receive it personally from you, and in bank notes.
+You can bring it to me in the country, I suppose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There will be no difficulty, my lady. To what part of the country?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We are going to our place in Bournemouth, The Gables. We give a ball
+there every year on the 7th of March. Of course I may rely upon having
+the money before that date.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me a moment, my lady,&quot; said Mr. Boyd, pretending to make
+certain calculations on paper, and presently adding, &quot;I can't
+positively promise, but you shall be sure to have it <i>on</i> that date.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, very well, very well,&quot; said Lady Wharton, &quot;I see that I am
+expected to agree to everything. And now, Mr. Boyd, our business is
+over, I think. Bless my soul, how dismally the wind sounds in this
+house! If I don't get out of it quickly John will think I've been
+spirited away. Don't trouble to come down; one of your servants can
+see me to the door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I keep no servants, my lady,&quot; he replied. &quot;A charwoman comes when I
+send for her. That is my life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to tell me that you live here quite alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite alone, my lady, quite alone, and safer and more secure than if
+my house was full of servants.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Boyd,&quot; said Lady Wharton, tapping him lightly on the arm, &quot;you
+should marry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What did your ladyship say yourself about women when you entered the
+house,&quot; he answered slyly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She laughed heartily at this retort, and following him down the stairs
+as he led the way with a light, bade him good night at the street
+door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;John,&quot; she said to her confidential man as he conducted her to her
+carriage, &quot;the house is like a grave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was thinking that myself, my lady,&quot; said John.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">SILENCE REIGNS.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Was it indeed a grave, and were the phantom shapes thrown upon the
+walls and ceiling by the flickering light the phantoms of the dead
+that were buried there? How easy to imagine this--how easy to imagine
+that, animated by a spirit of revenge for past wrongs and injuries,
+they moved and shifted, and glided hither and thither, and took
+fantastic and monstrous form, for the purpose of striking terror into
+the heart of the enemy who had filled their lives with suffering and
+brought them to an untimely end!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence reigned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Were those shapes and forms the only phantoms in the lonely house? Or,
+in the spaces that were unlighted--say in the passages and on the
+stairs leading to the room in which its owner transacted his business,
+and into another room in which he slept--were other phantoms moving,
+as dumb as they, as silent as they, with thoughts as murderous and
+with power more sure? This phantom, now, unseen by reason of the
+darkness, pausing with finger at its lips, all its senses merged in
+the sense of hearing as it listened for a sound to warn it that the
+time was not yet ripe? Had this phantom escaped from the lighted room
+in fear lest, were it visible to mortal eyes, its dread purpose would
+be frustrated, and that a frenzied cry ringing out upon the air, might
+reach some chance and aimless wanderer, and thus mar the murderous
+design lurking in its breast? Even of this the risk was small, for
+rarely indeed did any such wanderer find himself in Catchpole Square,
+or any man, who, being there without design, did not gladly and
+quickly grope his way out of it. The very guardians of the night
+avoided it, and contented themselves with the slightest and swiftest
+scrutiny, as of a place which bore an evil reputation and had best be
+left alone. It happened at odd times that some houseless and homeless
+vagrant, slinking in, curled himself up in a dark corner and dozed
+till daylight came, creeping away then with no feeling of gratitude
+for the shelter it had afforded him. Once a hapless child, sleeping
+there during a fierce snowstorm, had been found dead in the morning,
+covered with a white shroud. But that was long ago.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But this one phantom was in the house--now pausing, now creeping
+slowly along, now pausing again, now crouching with its head against a
+panel, and so remaining for many dumb minutes. And another phantom was
+at its heels.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And when the lights were out, and the rooms, like the stairs and
+passages, were in darkness and the master in his bed, they were still
+there. So stealthy were their movements that no sound proceeded from
+them; their breathing was so faint that it would scarcely have
+disturbed a wintry leaf.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence reigned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued. Could it have
+carried the news to the wider thoroughfares, trodden by men and women
+whose business or pleasure kept them out so late, what message would
+it have conveyed? In its whispering voices would the word MURDER have
+found a place?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At no great distance from the Square stood Saint Michael's Church, its
+clock proclaiming the hour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Ten!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Eleven!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Twelve!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How long these hours took to strike! A measured pause between each
+stroke, and in that pause the passing away of a life in the life of
+the great city, or the ushering in of one. This life at an end, this
+with a feeble cry at the journey before it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One o'clock!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Samuel Boyd was asleep. No prayer on his lips, no prayer in his heart,
+before he retired to rest. He slept in peace, undisturbed by fear or
+remorse.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Suddenly he awoke. His heart beat wildly, a cold perspiration broke
+out on his forehead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a powerful hand pressed upon his mouth, and another at his
+throat, no man can cry aloud. But while strength remains he can gasp,
+and moan, and fight for dear life--and may struggle out of bed, still
+with the hand upon his mouth, and another at his throat--and may
+summon to his aid all the despairing forces of his body--nay, even
+while thus imprisoned, succeed in dragging his adversaries this way
+and that--and may in his agony prolong the execution of the ruthless
+purpose. Though not avert it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door between the two rooms is open while this muffled struggle is
+going on. Furniture is overturned and displaced, tapestry torn from
+the walls, and smaller articles tossed in all directions. On the part
+of one of the men there is displayed a cold, cruel, relentless method
+in the execution of his design; on the part of the other a wild,
+despairing effort to obtain possession of a weapon. He succeeds. A
+pistol is in his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A shot rings out! Another!--and the wax figure of the Chinaman
+collapses into a chair with a bullet in its heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again Saint Michael's Church proclaims the hour.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two o'clock!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Silence reigns.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">In the course of the next few days the weather exhibited its vagaries
+in a more than usually astonishing fashion. On the night of the 1st of
+March the sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued till early
+morning, when it pleased the air to become mild and balmy, almost
+promising the advent of spring. A few bold buds awoke and peeped out
+of their little brown beds, and over the atmosphere hung a hazy veil
+of dim, delicious sapphire. On the following day this promise was
+destroyed, and another change took place; and on the night of the 5th
+a fog which had been overlooked in the early winter took its revenge
+for the neglect by enveloping the City of Unrest in a mist so dense
+that Mrs. Pond, in a conversation with Mrs. Applebee the next day was
+driven to the use of a familiar illustration.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you'll believe me, Mrs. Applebee,&quot; she said, &quot;it was that thick
+you could have cut it with a knife. I could hardly see my hand before
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what took you out in it, my dear?&quot; inquired Mrs. Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I couldn't help thinking of Pond,&quot; replied Mrs. Pond, a young woman
+of two and twenty, whose wifely experiences were tame in comparison
+with those of Mrs. Applebee, the mother of eight, &quot;trapesing up and
+down in the cold while I was setting before a blazing fire as
+comfortable as you please. 'A cup of hot coffee 'll put life in him,'
+says I to myself, and I was soon on my way outside with a bottleful
+tucked under my cloak. It took me a good hour to get to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And by that time the coffee was cold,&quot; Mrs. Applebee remarked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it was just lukewarm. Thinking of Pond I cuddled it close; but I
+don't mind confessing I was almost giving him up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did you find him at last, my dear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll tell you a secret,&quot; said the young wife, with a little blush.
+Mrs. Applebee, who dearly loved a secret or anything mysterious,
+pricked up her ears. &quot;When Pond was put on the night beat we agreed
+upon a signal. It was his idea; he's that clever you wouldn't
+believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May it ever continue,&quot; ejaculated Mrs. Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your opinion of him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, it will,&quot; said Mrs. Pond, nodding her head confidently. &quot;What
+Pond thinks of is a bird-call, and he buys two, and gives me one. 'If
+it should chance to happen,' says Pond, 'that you're my way--say about
+ten o'clock--when I'm on duty, just you give a soft blow. When I hear
+it out comes my bird-call, and I give a soft blow. Only one, Polly,
+because it might be noticed and against the regulations.' It does
+often chance to happen that I'm Pond's way on a dark night,&quot; added
+Mrs. Pond, with a sly look, &quot;and I give a soft blow and he gives
+another. He says it's like company when he hears it, and he resooms
+his tread with a light heart. As for me, I go home as happy as happy
+can be. Thankful I was last night when Pond answered my call, and
+thankful <i>he</i> was for the coffee. 'Polly,' he says, 'you're a angel.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How many kisses did he give you, my dear?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Mrs. Applebee,&quot; said Mrs. Pond, archly, &quot;against the regulations,
+you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've heard of it being done,&quot; said Mrs. Applebee, pensively, &quot;even by
+policemen on night duty. It was a dreadful night for our men to be
+out, but duty's duty and the pay's regular. It's a good thing you got
+home safe. Is your room let yet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, the bill's still in the window. Twenty-five pounds is a lot to
+pay for a house, but Pond says, 'Don't you fret, Polly; we'll soon get
+a lodger, and there's half the rent paid.' I must run home now in case
+he wakes up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Applebee's lord and master was at that moment in his bed,
+dreaming of fogs and shadows. Mrs. Pond's lord and master was also
+enjoying repose. They lived in adjoining streets, and their husbands
+being in the Force and at present on the night beat, it was their
+habit to foregather for a social gossip while their good men were in
+the arms of Morpheus.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There had been forewarnings of this visitation of the heaviest fog of
+the season. When people woke up on the morning of March 5th they
+thought it was the middle of the night. The comfortable illusion being
+dispelled by a consultation of watches and clocks they found that the
+sky was not visible, and that they could not distinguish the houses on
+the opposite side of the way. They crawled to their places of business
+in a discontented frame of mind, through a white blinding mist which
+made them uncertain of the direction they were taking. To add to their
+perplexities the trams and omnibuses were not running, and jubilant
+cabmen, bent (paradoxically) on making hay while the sun shines,
+walked at their horses' heads, holding the bridles, and demanded gold
+instead of silver for taking a fare anywhere. These creeping shadows,
+the muffled cries that fell upon the ear, and the lighted links which
+seemed to move through space without the aid of hands, were more like
+a scene in the infernal regions than a representation of the anxious,
+throbbing life of our modern Babylon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the day wore on the fog lifted a little, but at night it became
+worse. Theatrical managers were sad and low-spirited, for their
+patrons were not disposed to leave their firesides in such weather,
+and the actors performed their ghostly parts to indistinct and scanty
+audiences, upon whom the brightest flashes of comedy fell with
+depressing effect. The fairies in the pantomimes which were still
+running were shorn of bright fancies, and even the bad spirits derived
+no pleasure from the perpetration of evil deeds. The few monomaniacs
+who believed that the end of the world was coming, were on their
+knees, waiting for the blast of Michael's trumpet. Topers standing at
+the bars of their favourite publichouses drank their liquor with a
+distinct absence of conviviality, and the verbal and visual inanities
+between barmaids and their admirers were shorn of that vacuous
+vivacity which generally distinguishes the intercourse of those
+parties. Dejection and dulness reigned in all the waking world.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In no part of the city were matters quite so bad as in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square, North district, where, an hour after midnight,
+Constable Pond was cautiously feeling his way towards the border-line
+of his beat, hoping there to meet with human companionship in the
+person of Constable Applebee, who, himself animated by a similar hope
+in respect of Constable Pond, was advancing from an opposite
+direction. On this miserable night one crumb of comfort--oh, but it
+was more than a crumb; it might have been called a whole loaf--had
+fallen to the share of Constable Pond. He had not thought it likely
+that his wife would have ventured from the house, nor, lonely as he
+was, did he wish it; but when, an hour or so before midnight, he heard
+the familiar bird-call, he joyfully responded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Polly, Polly!&quot; he exclaimed, passing his arm around her. &quot;My
+senses don't deceive me, do they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I hope they don't,&quot; said Polly, drawing his arm tighter. &quot;You
+wouldn't do this to another woman, I'm sure of that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may be, Polly, you may be. Not to Queen Victoria herself with her
+gold crown on. Well, this <i>is</i> a surprise! Such a surprise, Polly, as
+makes up for all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He gave her a great hug. He did not consider the regulations--not he!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm afraid it's cold,&quot; said Polly, putting the bottle of coffee into
+his hand, and paying good interest for the hug. &quot;It was boiling hot
+when I started.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a brick you are!&quot; said Constable Pond, extracting the cork with
+his teeth, and applying himself to the refreshment. &quot;It's ever so much
+better than three-star. Here, take a pull yourself.&quot; She did. &quot;Polly,
+you're a angel!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She laughed, but did not dispute it, and they remained a short time in
+fond dalliance. A strange hour for Cupid's pranks, but that urchin has
+no conscience. Polly proposed to walk the beat with her husband all
+through the night, but this was such an alarming infringement of the
+regulations that he would not listen to it. So he escorted her to the
+end of his beat, and would have escorted her farther, but <i>she</i> would
+not listen to that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you find your way home?&quot; he asked, in doubt.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Blindfold,&quot; she answered promptly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may as well have the empty bottle,&quot; he said. &quot;Hold it by the
+neck, and if anybody comes up to you give him a crack on the head with
+it. Another kiss, Polly!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As she walked away she blew on her bird-call every few yards, to which
+her husband did not fail to respond; and if desolation did not fall
+upon him when he could hear it no longer it was because of the
+impression which Polly's thoughtful love had produced upon him. &quot;Good
+little woman,&quot; he said. &quot;A regular trump, that's what she is.&quot; But a
+couple of hours' loneliness sent his spirits down again, and now he
+was seeking his brother-constable Applebee to cheer him up with the
+friendly word. With the advance of the night the fog continued to
+deepen, and he got into a state of muddle as to his whereabouts. His
+progress was painfully slow. The white mist blinded and deceived him;
+his footsteps were noiseless; and but for the striking of the hour
+from a neighbouring church he might reasonably have fancied that he
+was traversing a city of the dead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Saint Michael's Church,&quot; he soliloquised, with a feeling of relief.
+&quot;I didn't hear it when it struck last. Where could I have been--and
+where am I now? It can't be fur off, though whether it's to the right
+of me or the left of me, or before me or behind me, I'll be hanged if
+I can tell. What street am I in--Riley Street or Silver Street? If
+it's Riley Street I ought to come upon Applebee in a minute or two,
+unless he's at the other end of the beat. If it's Silver Street I'll
+have to tack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That he should be puzzled was not to be wondered at, for the streets
+he named were so precisely alike in every detail and feature that they
+might have been turned out of one mould. Their frontage was the same,
+their height was the same, their depth was the same, and each had the
+same number of rooms of exactly the same shape and dimensions, and the
+same number of chimney pots placed in exactly the same positions. When
+this mathematical demon of architecture receives its death-blow a joy
+will be added to existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While Constable Pond stood debating whether to tack or creep straight
+on he saw in the distance what might be likened to a dead star--the
+misty glimmering of a despondent light; and on the chance of its
+indicating the presence of Constable Applebee he boldly challenged it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hallo, there!&quot; he cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hallo, there!&quot; came the echoing answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was little life in their voices; they seemed to linger, as
+though they had not sufficient power to effectually pierce the thick
+air.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that you, Applebee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it's me. Is it Pond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your voice sounds strange. Come slow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Each advancing with caution, a friendly grasp of hands presently
+united them.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a night!&quot; then exclaimed Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The worst <i>I</i> ever saw,&quot; responded Constable Applebee. &quot;It's a
+record, that's what it is. We had a bad spell in December--lasted two
+days--you remember it, Pond?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Should think I did.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was nothing compared to this. I'd sooner walk through a foot and a
+half of snow than through such a fog. It gets into the eyes, and into
+the chest, and into the head; you can squeeze it through your fingers.
+When it's snow you know where you are; there it is, at your feet; it
+don't mount. It gives a man fair play; this don't. I've been looking
+for you everywhere. Where did you get to?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hard to say. As fur as I know I haven't been off my beat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Same here. Anything to report?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. Have you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Constable Applebee gave no direct reply, but branched off into what,
+apparently, was another subject. &quot;Look here, Pond. Are you a nervous
+man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not particularly,&quot; answered Constable Pond, with a timid look around.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you don't like this sort of thing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who would?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you may say that. If fog was fog, and nothing else, I'd put up
+with it. And why? Because we've got to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A true bill,&quot; said Constable Pond, assenting.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it brings something else along with it. That's what I complain
+of--and what I mostly complain of is shadders.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean?&quot; inquired Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What I say. Shadders. I don't call <i>my</i>self a nervous man, but when
+you see something stealing along a yard or two ahead of you, and you
+go to lay hold of it and it vanishes--yes, Pond, vanishes--it's enough
+to give a man the creeps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It'd give <i>me</i> the creeps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, then,&quot; said Constable Applebee, as though a matter which
+had been in dispute was now settled. &quot;Put a substantial body in my way
+and I'll tackle it. But how <i>can</i> you tackle it when it melts and
+disappears? You call out, 'Now, then, what are you up to?' and you
+don't get a whisper in reply. Ain't that enough to aggravate a man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More than enough; I know how I should feel over it. But look here,
+Applebee, it ain't imagination, is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Imagination!&quot; exclaimed Constable Applebee, in a voice of scorn.
+&quot;What! Me! Why, I don't suppose, from the day I was born to this
+blessed night of white fog, that if it was all reckoned up I've had
+imagination enough to fill a two-ounce bottle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This new view of the quality of imagination in relation to quantity
+seemed to impress Constable Pond, who turned it over in his mind
+without feeling himself equal to offer an opinion on it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A fog like this always serves me the same way,&quot; said Constable
+Applebee. &quot;There was a black fog when I was born I've heard my mother
+often say. That's why, perhaps.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what happened?&quot; asked Constable Pond. &quot;You haven't told me that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This happened. I see a shadder creeping along the wall. I foller it
+till I'm within half-a-dozen yards. Then I stop and hail it. The
+minute it hears my voice it gives a start, and when I run forward to
+lay hands on it, it vanishes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've got,&quot; said Constable Pond, admiringly, &quot;the heart of a lion. I
+don't bring to mind that there's any orders about taking up shadders.
+Bodies, yes. Shadders, no.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I ain't exactly a mouse,&quot; said Constable Applebee, stiffening
+himself. &quot;It happened a second time. There it was, creeping ahead of
+me. This time I don't give it a chance. I run after it and call out,
+'Stand up like a man!'&quot;----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It might have been a female shadder,&quot; suggested Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you know more about it than I do,&quot; said Constable Applebee,
+testily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Applebee, no. Go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Stand up like a man!' I call out. What's the consequence? It
+vanishes again, and there I stand, dumbfoundered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does it come a third time, Applebee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it don't come a third time. When I was a little boy my mother
+took me to the Polytechnic to see 'Pepper's Ghost.' You saw it, and it
+wasn't there. You run a sword through it, and it grinned in your face.
+I was that scared I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. It's my
+belief, if I'd got close enough to run a knife into the shadder, it'd
+have served me just the same. Step up, we're in the gutter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's singular, that's what it is. It's singular. Shall you report
+it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm doubtful of it. They might think I was off my head. Let it be
+between us, Pond.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It don't pass my lips, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They entered a hooded court, and halted there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where are we?&quot; asked Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Deadman's Court.&quot; Constable Pond shivered. &quot;Leading to Catchpole
+Square, and leading nowhere else. You wouldn't catch <i>me</i> living in a
+cooldersack.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What may be the meaning of that, Applebee?&quot; asked Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You couldn't have been much of a dab at school to ask that question.
+Now, me!--but I won't boast. Cooldersack is French for blind
+thoroughfare. A man that sleeps as sound as I do 'd find himself in a
+trap, with a entrance like this. Suppose you live in the end house
+where Mr. Samuel Boyd lives, and there's a fire in the middle of the
+night. How's the fire engines to get to you? You wouldn't have half a
+chance. A man might as well be shut up in a bottle. Do you know the
+Square at all, Pond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. Never been in it to my knowledge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Couldn't have been in it without,&quot; said Constable Applebee, chuckling
+at his wit. &quot;It's the rummiest built place <i>you</i> ever saw. Just step
+in a minute. Not that you can see much of it with this fog on, but I
+could describe it blindfold. Six houses with the street doors in front
+of us--we're standing facing 'em now--and only one of 'em let, the one
+at the end corner, Mr. Samuel Boyd's. The others have been empty I
+don't know how long. Now right about face, and what do you see?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As fur as I can make out,&quot; said Constable Pond, peering before him,
+&quot;it's a blank wall.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It <i>is</i> a blank wall, the backs of six houses, without any back
+entrance to 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where's the front entrance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Shore Street. If we had Samuel Boyd's money we'd do better with
+it, wouldn't we, Pond? We'd have a house with a bit of garden in front
+and a bit of garden at the back, with a rose tree or two, and flowers
+in the winder--because what's the use of money if you don't enjoy it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's what I say. Life's short. Only tempery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Temporarily, Pond, temporarily,&quot; said Constable Applebee, in
+correction. &quot;You <i>must</i> have made a mess of it at school. My missis'd
+go wild with delight if she had a house like that. She's as fond of
+flowers as bees of honey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So's mine,&quot; said Constable Pond, standing up for his own like a man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They all are. And if I had my wish I'd never leave the house in the
+morning without one in my buttonhole. It mellers a man, Pond, that's
+what it does, it mellers him, and whether you're rough or whether
+you're smooth it shows you've got a good heart. I never saw Samuel
+Boyd with a flower in <i>his</i> buttonhole, and if I lived to a hundred I
+never should. And I never had a civil word from him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor anything in the way of a tip, I'll bet,&quot; remarked Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'd win it. It was a different pair of shoes with his son, Mr.
+Reginald. There he was, as handsome and free a young chap as you'd set
+eyes on in a day's march, with a flower in his coat and a smile or a
+cheery word to brighten you up. 'A wild night, constable,' he'd say,
+'have a cigar?' And he'd slip one in my hand, and sometimes the price
+of a pint. It's nigh upon two years since I set eyes on him--wus
+luck!&quot; These reminiscences came to a sudden stop. Constable Applebee
+clutched his comrade's arm, and whispered hoarsely, &quot;Look there! The
+shadder!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A figure was creeping along the wall, as though in the endeavour to
+escape observation. They darted forward, and Constable Applebee laid
+his hand upon it, crying, &quot;Now, then, give an account of yourself!&quot; It
+was not a shadow, for shadows have no substance. It was not a shadow,
+for shadows have no voice. The sound of a sob escaped from the figure.
+Constable Applebee's grasp was nerveless rather than vigorous, and a
+less powerful effort than it made would have enabled it to escape. It
+was gone! Through Deadman's Court!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quick, Pond, quick!&quot; cried Constable Applebee. In a state of
+confusion they scrambled out of Catchpole Square, and came into
+violent collision. Ruefully rubbing their heads they looked about
+them, and saw nothing but the thick white fog.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Vanished!&quot; exclaimed Constable Applebee. The collision had knocked
+Constable Pond's helmet off. Stooping to recover it he saw something
+white beneath it--a lady's handkerchief, trimmed with lace. With a sly
+glance at Constable Applebee he put it into his pocket.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It'll do for the missis,&quot; he thought. &quot;She's fond of a bit of lace.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Availing itself of the privilege to creep through every chink and
+crevice, to steal up backstairs and take advantage of every keyhole,
+and to make its dismal presence felt equally within the habitations of
+man as without, the white fog had insinuated itself into the Bishop
+Street Police Station, where it lay in the form of a semi-transparent
+shroud, and where Inspector Robson looked more like the ghost of a man
+than the man himself. In the brightest of weather the office was not a
+cheerful apartment; under the thrall of the white fog, an hour after
+midnight, it assumed a funereal aspect inexpressibly depressing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Busily employed in making out the charge sheet for the following day,
+Inspector Robson still found time to cast an occasional eye upon
+another ghostly form who, with one foot resting on the end of a wooden
+bench, was leaning against the wall in a negligent attitude, engaged
+in the insubstantial occupation of chewing a ghostly straw. The
+Inspector wrote a fine copperplate hand, and his steel pen neither
+scratched nor spluttered. On the present occasion he was taking
+extraordinary care over his task, as though more than usually
+important issues hung upon the perfect outlines of his pothooks and
+hangers. The absence of sound within the office and the shroud which
+lay upon it, rendering objects within a few yards of him indistinct,
+imparted so strong an air of unreality to the scene, that his slow and
+measured movements bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. The other ghostly person in the office chewed his straw and
+moved his lips with so regular and unintelligent a motion that <i>his</i><br>
+movements, also, bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. But for the difference in their ages these two men might
+have been posing to an invisible artist for a picture of the
+Industrious and the Idle Apprentices.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That there was something in the negligent figure that discomposed the
+Inspector was evident from the expression on his face when he raised
+his head from the charge sheet and glanced in that direction, and it
+was quite as evident that his discomposure was powerless to arouse the
+cause of it from his apparent insensibility to all external objects
+and impressions. He was young and good-looking, his age probably
+twenty-four or five; Inspector Robson was old enough to be his father,
+and on his features were stamped the effects of long years of official
+responsibilities and steady application to duty. In this relation of
+the Idle and the Industrious Apprentices the marked contrast they
+presented was capable of a dramatic interpretation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you intend to remain much longer?&quot; inquired the Inspector, goaded
+at length into breaking the oppressive silence. &quot;Because I'd like you
+to know I'm pretty well tired of you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm pretty well tired of myself,&quot; replied the young man, in a
+listless tone. &quot;As to remaining much longer I can't exactly say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have no right to be in this place, you know, unless you are here
+upon business. Now, the question is, are you here upon business? If
+you are, I'm ready to take it down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man turned the straw in his mouth, and appeared to reflect.
+Coming to a conclusion he languidly said, &quot;I can't think of any
+particular business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a pity,&quot; said the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a pity,&quot; echoed the young man, with distinct indifference.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then,&quot; said the Inspector, bracing himself up for a great
+effort, &quot;as you have no business to be here unless you have business
+to be here----&quot; This was so involved that it brought him to a full
+stop; scratching his head with whimsical perplexity he extricated
+himself from the difficulty by adding, &quot;The best thing you can do is
+to clear out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The young man, deciding that he had sufficiently rested one foot,
+lowered it, and lifted the other upon the bench. This was the only
+movement he made.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Inspector resumed his writing with the manner of a man driven to a
+helpless pass. A peculiar feature of the defeat he had met with was
+that it did not seem to anger him. Presently he spoke again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't often get into a temper, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not often.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But when I do,&quot; said the Inspector, with an anticipatory chuckle,
+&quot;it's a thing to remember.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When you do, uncle, I'll remember it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Inspector finished the charge sheet, tidied up his papers, and
+looking over his shoulder at Dick, suddenly burst out laughing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick's face cleared; a light stole into his eyes; his lips quivered.
+These tokens of serious emotion were like the passing of a cloud. The
+next moment he joined the Inspector in the laugh, and the storm was at
+an end.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where are you going to sleep, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me see,&quot; Dick answered. &quot;Buckingham Palace sounds tempting; there
+must be several beds unoccupied there. Could a fellow get between the
+sheets of one? Do you think it might be managed? I hope they keep a
+fire in the rooms and the sheets well aired.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be a fool.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can I help it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Dick, no,&quot; said the inspector, advancing and laying his hand
+kindly upon Dick's shoulder. &quot;Upon my soul I don't believe you can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick lifted his eyes, with an implied suggestion that the Inspector,
+by the barest possibility, might be mistaken; but he did not put this
+into words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't take you home with me,&quot; said the Inspector. &quot;Aunt Rob won't
+have it. She's put her foot down, and when she puts her foot down,
+why, there it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The comic helplessness expressed in this obvious statement seemed to
+amuse Dick, but he said, gravely enough, &quot;Yes, there it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And there's Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the introduction of this name a look of sad tenderness stole into
+Dick's eyes, but he said calmly, &quot;Ah, and there's Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Dick, let us have this out, once and for all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm agreeable.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's altogether too bad,&quot; exclaimed the Inspector. &quot;What with you and
+Florence, bless her! <i>and</i> Aunt Rob, I haven't a moment's peace of my
+life. What Aunt Rob says is this. 'Here's Dick Remington,' she says,
+'that you've behaved as a father to, and that I've behaved as a mother
+to. Ever since he was left an orphan, having lost his father, then his
+mother--you were three years old when my poor sister died--he's lived
+with us as one of our own, and so we've treated him. He had a claim
+upon us, and that claim we've met.' And she says--her foot being
+down--'It's time Dick looked after himself.' She gave you a hint,
+which you took pretty quick. I'll say that of you; you took it almost
+too quick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What else could I do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was a mistake, Dick, to get into a huff as you did. The minute she
+began to speak you took her up sharp--and if there's one thing more
+than another that puts her back up it is to be took up sharp. You see,
+Dick, it's a delicate matter. Aunt Rob says, 'We must think of
+Florence. She comes first.' And she's right, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is, uncle. Florence comes first--always first!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Here's Dick,' says Aunt Rob, 'that I'm as fond of as if he was my
+own son, what is he good for? What prospects has he got? He's been in
+one situation and another, and never keeps to one thing for more than
+a few weeks at a time. Here he is, a grown man, and here is Florence,
+almost a grown woman.' To think of it!&quot; said Inspector Robson,
+pensively, breaking off. &quot;It was only yesterday that she was in short
+frocks, going backward and forward to school, and climbing up on my
+knee to pull my whiskers, and cuddling up in my arms, and singing her
+little songs in a voice as sweet as music. And now! a grown woman! To
+think of it--to think of it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Loving you no less as a woman, uncle, than she did as a child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know it, my lad, I know it, but it sets a man on the think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And Inspector Robson fell forthwith into a brown study which lasted
+quite five minutes, during which the image of his only child, most
+tenderly and dearly beloved, presented itself to him in its sweetest
+and most engaging aspects.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A PRINCE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick Remington waited patiently to hear the full sum of the reproaches
+which Aunt Rob brought against him. He, too, saw with his mind's eye
+the image of the young girl for whom he would have laid down his life,
+and if his thoughts of her brought a pang to his heart they were at
+the same time charged with exceeding tenderness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson shook himself free from dreams, and returned to his
+subject.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is what Aunt Rob says. 'Here is Dick a grown man, and here is
+Florence almost a grown woman. When Dick comes down in the morning he
+kisses Florence and she kisses him; and when he bids her good night he
+kisses her again. And,' says Aunt Rob, 'I don't know that this is a
+thing that ought to be allowed to go on.' I dare say it's puzzled
+other people as well as us when kissing ought to be left off. So long
+as you were little it was as natural as natural could be. You were
+playmates and chums, and you rolled on the floor together and played
+coach and horses and London Bridge is Falling Down, and you'd carry
+her on your shoulder and lift her as high as the ceiling, and throw
+her up and catch her, she screaming with delight and crying, 'Again,
+Dick, again!' You grew up, Dick, and when you were eighteen Florence
+was only twelve, and the kissing went on, and there was nothing to
+object to. But you got to be twenty and Florence fourteen, and the
+kissing went on. Then her frocks were lengthened, and the pair of you
+continued to grow up till she was nineteen and you twenty-five--and
+all this time the kissing went on. Now, Dick, there <i>must</i> come a
+time when, even between cousins, kissing must stop. Sometimes it's
+done gradual, sometimes all of a sudden, which makes things a bit
+awkward--but one way or the other it's got to be done. You must see
+that yourself, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I suppose so, uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And Aunt Rob has got an eye to the future. Pretty girls like Florence
+don't grow on every gooseberry bush. Show me the girl that can compare
+with her. Do <i>you</i> know of one, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not one in all the wide world,&quot; replied the young man. &quot;God bless
+her, and make her happy!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She's been brought up sensible,&quot; said Inspector Robson. &quot;She can make
+a beef steak pudding and play the piano; there's nothing she can't
+turn her hand to, and the man that gets her will be a lucky chap. Aunt
+Rob thinks a gentleman born would not be too good for her. 'Why not
+say a marquis, or a prince?' says I to her, speaking sarcastic like.
+And she bridles up and answers, 'Why not? He might do worse; he
+couldn't do better.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No gentleman in the land,&quot; said Dick, with a tremor in his voice,
+&quot;could be too good for Florence. She's equal to the best, and could
+hold her own among the best, even if they were born in a palace.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's what Aunt Rob thinks,&quot; said Inspector Robson, his eyes glowing
+with loving pride, &quot;and that's what we all think, and who that knows
+Florence could think differently? But let's come back to you, Dick,
+for that's the main point. Why don't you stick to one thing, my lad?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps because it won't stick to me,&quot; Dick replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nonsense, nonsense, lad, it's the other way about. Do you recollect
+the morning you went to your first situation, and how we all stood at
+the street door to see you off? There was Florence and Aunt Rob waving
+their handkerchiefs and kissing their hands to you till you were out
+of sight. You kept that situation seven months, and then you threw it
+up. You didn't like the place, you said. All right. You got another
+situation, as traveller on commission in the sewing machine line. You
+commenced well, and was earning your fifteen shillings a week. What
+was our surprise when you came home one night and told us you'd left
+because it wouldn't suit you? The next thing you took to was the
+stage, and you gave us tickets to come and see you act. We rehearsed
+at home, and Florence gave you the cues. As for your make-up as you
+call it, you did it so cleverly that we didn't know you when you come
+on the stage. 'That's what he's cut out for,' I said. 'One of these
+days he'll have a theatre of his own.' But Aunt Rob shook her head.
+You wrote a little piece in one act, and got it played--actually got
+it played. We thought it beautiful, and the way Florence laughed and
+cried over it--well! But it wasn't a success for all that. Still, you
+know, Dick, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. You didn't
+try again. You gave up the stage----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick interposed with, &quot;Or it gave up me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Anyway you left it. Your next move was clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah!&quot; said Dick, and there was a look of inquiry in his eyes as he
+fixed them upon the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may well say 'Ah,' for from what's known of him he's not the kind
+of man one would be proud to serve. What made you go to him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was hard up, and had been trying for a couple of months to get in
+somewhere. I was curious about him, too: thought he would do for a
+character that I could make up like if I ever went on the stage, or
+could use if ever I wrote another play.&quot; He spoke with apparent
+carelessness, but with a covert observance of the Inspector while he
+gave this explanation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It didn't surprise me that you remained with him only three months.
+When you left him you took to writing for the papers, and we read your
+paragraphs and articles with wonder at your cleverness. You don't do
+much in that way now, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not much,&quot; said Dick, with a smile, &quot;but I haven't given it up
+entirely. There is always the future.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Dick, Dick,&quot; said Inspector Robson, very seriously, &quot;we don't
+live in the future, we live in the present. When we're hungry a future
+dinner won't satisfy our stomachs. Aunt Rob sums it up in three or
+four words. 'Dick's got no stability,' she says, and, against my will,
+I've come round to her way of thinking. I suppose, Dick, all this time
+you haven't saved a penny--eh?&quot; The young man made no reply, and
+Inspector Robson cried, half angrily, half admiringly, &quot;What business
+had you to be making us presents and bringing things home for Aunt Rob
+and me and Florence when you ought to have been looking after
+yourself? What did you do it for?' Here's Dick brought home an immense
+turkey,' says Aunt Rob to me at Christmas; and at other times, 'Here's
+that stupid Dick brought home a couple of chickens, or a veal and ham
+pie,' and I don't know what all. 'I wish,' says Aunt Rob, 'that you'd
+tell him to stop it, and put his money into the savings bank.' But not
+you! At the least mention of such a thing you fired up and wanted to
+know what we meant by it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not have acted differently,&quot; said Dick. &quot;I was living upon
+you--yes, I was. You wouldn't take anything for my board and lodging,
+and I had to try and make it up in some way. It was little enough I
+did, but if I hadn't done that little I should have been ashamed to
+look you in the face. Besides, how many times have you said to me,
+'Dick, you must be in want of a bit of pocket money,' and forced a
+half sovereign upon me, and sometimes more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Welcome you were to it,&quot; said Inspector Robson, in his heartiest
+tone, &quot;though it's my firm belief if you had a thousand a year you'd
+never have a shilling in your purse, you're that free with your money.
+A sailor come ashore after a two year's cruise is a fool to you.&quot; He
+paused a moment. &quot;Dick, my lad, I've been too hard on you, in what
+I've said: I'm downright ashamed of myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It isn't in you, and it isn't in Aunt Rob, to do anything of which
+you need be ashamed. I have been thoughtless and inconsiderate----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no, Dick!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes, uncle. I've been too much wrapped up in myself, and given
+no thought to the best friends a young ne'er-do-well ever had. If I
+could only make it up to you!&quot; He turned his face to the wall, so that
+the Inspector should not see the tears that rushed into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick, my lad,&quot; said Inspector Robson, &quot;have you got yourself into any
+money difficulty? Say the word, and I'll see what we can do to get you
+out of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a trump you are!&quot; exclaimed Dick. &quot;No, uncle. I owe no one a
+shilling except you and Aunt Rob.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't keep on harping on that string or you'll get my temper up. If
+it isn't money, is it a woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you mean whether I've entangled myself with a woman, or done
+anything wrong that way, I can answer honestly, no.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I knew it, my lad, I knew it,&quot; said Inspector Robson, triumphantly.
+&quot;Whatever your faults may be I was sure there wasn't a bit of vice in
+you. And now I tell you what it is; you shall come home with me
+to-night, your room's ready for you, and I'll make it all right with
+Aunt Rob. Make it all right! It <i>is</i> all right. 'The place isn't the
+same, father,' she says to me, 'with Dick out of it.' If you knew how
+we've missed you, my lad, you'd grow an inch taller.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is it that has kept my room ready for me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aunt Rob and Florence, to be sure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And Florence,&quot; whispered Dick to himself, a wave of exceeding
+tenderness flowing over him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Florence it was who said to Aunt Rob, 'Mother, we mustn't let Dick
+think when he comes back that we've been neglectful of him.' 'Of
+course not,' said Aunt Rob, and up they go to see that everything is
+sweet and clean. You know the pride that Aunt Rob takes in the house.
+You might eat off the floor. And there's Florence of a morning
+sweeping out your room, and looking in every corner for a speck of
+dust. There's the canary and the cage you gave her, <i>and</i> the
+goldfish--why, if they were her own little babies she couldn't look
+after them better. So home we go together, and we'll let bygones be
+bygones and commence afresh.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, uncle, I can't come home with you,&quot; said Dick, shaking his head.
+&quot;I thank you from my heart, but it can't be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not come home with me!&quot; exclaimed Inspector Robson, in great
+astonishment. &quot;Why, what's the matter with the lad? You don't mean it,
+Dick, sure<i>ly!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do mean it, uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick, Dick, Dick,&quot; said Inspector Robson, shaking a warning
+forefinger at the young man, &quot;pride's a proper thing in the right
+place, but a deuced ugly thing when it makes us take crooked views. I
+say you <i>shall</i> come home with me. Do you know what kind of a night it
+is, lad? I wouldn't turn a dog out in such weather, unless it was a
+blind dog, and then it wouldn't matter much. Come, come, Dick, think
+better of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing can alter my resolution, uncle--nothing. I did not come here
+to-night to annoy you; I wanted a shelter, and I hoped the fog would
+clear; but it seems to have grown thicker. However, it can't last for
+ever. In three or four hours it will be morning, and then----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go on. And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The night will be gone, and it will be day,&quot; said Dick, gaily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And to-morrow night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be night again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you'll sleep in Buckingham Palace, for it stands to reason a man
+must sleep somewhere, and they don't charge for beds there that I'm
+aware of. How's the treasury, lad?&quot; Dick laughed. &quot;It's no laughing
+matter. Here's a sovereign; it'll see through the week at all events.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm not going to rob you, uncle,&quot; said Dick in a shaking voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson caught Dick's hand, forced it open, forced a
+sovereign into it, and closed the young man's fingers over it, holding
+the hand tight in his to prevent the money being returned. In the
+execution of a ruthless action the Inspector's muscles were of iron.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you drop it, or try to give it me back,&quot; he said, &quot;I'll lock you
+up and charge you with loitering for an unlawful purpose. What will
+Florence think when she sees your name in the papers and my name
+charging you? Be sensible for once, Dick, if you've any feeling for
+her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The blood rushed up into Dick's face, and he staggered as if he had
+been struck; but he recovered himself quickly, and was the same
+indolent, easy-mannered being as before.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, uncle; I'll keep the sovereign. Before the week's out I
+daresay I shall get something to do. The mischief of it is, there's
+nothing stirring; stagnation's the order of the day. If I could hit
+upon something startling and be first in the field, I should get well
+paid for it. Would you object to my dashing on the colour in an
+article headed, 'A Night in an Inspector's Office.'? I think I could
+make it lurid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before the laughing Inspector could reply a constable entered, holding
+by the arm a poorly dressed woman of woebegone appearance. Her
+gestures, her sobs, the wild looks she cast around, were those of a
+woman driven to distraction. Clinging to her skirts was a little girl
+as woebegone and white-faced as her mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson instantly straightened himself; he was no longer a
+private individual, but an officer of the law prepared for duty in
+whatever complicated shape it presented itself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She's been here half-a-dozen times to-night, sir,&quot; said the
+constable, &quot;and last night as well, and the night before. She's lost
+her husband, she says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband--my husband!&quot; moaned the woman. &quot;Find him for me--find him
+for me! He's gone, gone, gone! Merciful God! What has become of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson saw at a glance that here before him was no woman
+maddened by drink, but a woman suffering from terrible distress; and
+by a motion of his hand he conveyed an order to the constable, who
+instantly took his hand from the woman's arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is your husband's name?&quot; asked the Inspector in a gentle tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Abel Death, sir. Oh, for God's sake find him for me--find him for
+me--find him for me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Tears rolled down her face and choked her voice. Every nerve in her
+body was quivering with anguish.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How long has he been gone?&quot; asked the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Five days, sir, five long, long days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was he in employment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, yes. Oh, what can have become of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the name of his employer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The agony the woman had endured overcame her, and she could not
+immediately reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole Square,&quot; said the child.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">She spoke in a hoarse voice, and very slowly, a scraping, grating
+cough accompanying her words. &quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole
+Square,&quot; might, according to her utterance, have lain in a
+charnel-house among the bones of the dead when she fished him up for
+the information of Inspector Robson. Such a rasping cough, forcing
+what little blood she had in her poor body up into her pallid face,
+where it stood out in blotches of dull, unhealthy red! Such a wearing,
+tearing cough, as though some savage, malignant beast, lurking in her
+chest, was clawing at it in sheer devilry, and scraping it clean to
+the bone! But she did not seem to mind it, nor, by her manner, did she
+invite pity for it. The cough was an old companion, &quot;and goes on so,&quot;
+she said to a juvenile friend, &quot;when it takes me unawares, that it
+almost twists my head off.&quot; This was not said in a tone of
+complaining; it was merely a plain statement of fact.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The name of Samuel Boyd had scarcely passed the girl's lips, when
+Inspector Robson darted forward to catch the woman, who, but for his
+timely help, would have fallen to the ground. Assisted by Dick he bore
+her to a bench, and there they succeeded in restoring her to
+consciousness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The attitude of the child was remarkable for its composure, which
+sprang from no lack of feeling, but partly from familiarity with
+suffering, and partly from a pitiful strength of character which
+circumstances had brought too early into play. Too early, indeed, for
+she was but twelve years of age, and had about her few of the graces
+which speak of a happy child-life. How different is the springtime of
+such a child from that of one brought up in a home of comparative
+comfort, where the pinching and grinding for the barest necessaries of
+life are happily unfelt! What pregnant lessons are to be learned from
+a child so forlorn--say, for instance, the lesson of gratitude for the
+better fortune and the pleasant hours of which we take no account!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But Gracie Death did not murmur or repine. She simply suffered, and
+suffered in dull patience. It was her lot, and she bore it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The introduction of the name of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+brought a startled look into Dick's eyes, and he glanced at Inspector
+Robson to see if it made any impression upon him. The Inspector gave
+no indication of this, but devoted his whole attention to the woman,
+who, the moment she revived, was in full possession of her senses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband!&quot; she moaned. &quot;My husband!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he run away from you?&quot; asked the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, no,&quot; replied Mrs. Death. &quot;He was too fond of us for that.
+The best husband, the best father! If you have any mercy in you, find
+him for me! What shall I do without him? What will the children do
+without him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We shall starve,&quot; said Gracie, answering the question, coldly and
+impassively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson coughed behind his hand, and his cough awoke the
+demon in Gracie's chest to emulation so strong that it straightway set
+to work, and the spectators had a practical illustration of her
+statement that it was &quot;enough to twist her head off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The child has a bad cough,&quot; said Inspector Robson, with a look of
+pity; &quot;she oughtn't to be out on such a night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>would</i> come with mother,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;It ain't her fault, it's
+mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Inspector coughed again, and Gracie's demon followed suit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did your husband drink?&quot; asked the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, no,&quot; said the woman, reproachfully. &quot;How can you ask it?
+Gracie will tell you. Did father drink, Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she answered. &quot;Tea. Very weak. I like it strong,&quot; and added,
+&quot;when I can get it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish I had a cup to give you,&quot; said Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So do I,&quot; said Gracie, &quot;and a cup for mother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If there's anything you wish to tell me,&quot; said the Inspector,
+addressing the woman, &quot;I will see what can be done. Take your time,
+and don't hurry. He was employed by Mr. Samuel Boyd, you say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, of Catchpole Square. He was Mr. Boyd's clerk, and a hard
+time he had of it. We did the best we could upon his miserable salary,
+but what with one thing and another we were worried out of our lives.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did I worry you, mother?&quot; asked Gracie. &quot;I'd stop coughing if I
+could, but I can't. If it didn't worry mother, gentlemen, I wouldn't
+mind. It ketches me that tight that I can't hold it if I try ever so.
+I <i>do</i> try, mother!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You do, my dear. A little while ago&quot;--to the Inspector again--&quot;we
+borrowed three pounds of a money-lender and signed a paper, and though
+we've paid it twice over he makes out that we owe him more than we did
+at the beginning. Our bits of furniture aren't worth much, but it's
+all we have, and every time he comes he threatens to sell us up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish he'd sell my cough up,&quot; said Gracie, with a queer little
+laugh, &quot;I'd let it go cheap. It wouldn't fetch much, I reckon, but he
+can have it and welcome, because it worries mother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the way she talks of it, sir. She never thinks of herself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, don't I, though? You mustn't believe everything mother says,
+gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me go on, dear, and don't interrupt, or you'll make the gentlemen
+angry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'd be sorry to do that. You <i>will</i> help mother won't you, please!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We'll try,&quot; replied Inspector Robson, kindly and patiently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I won't say another word till she's done,&quot; said Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Last Friday night he came home in a terrible state,&quot; continued the
+woman, fondling Gracie's cheek with her trembling hand. &quot;He hoped to
+get the loan of a few pounds from Mr. Boyd, so that we could pay the
+money-lender off, and buy a chest protector for Gracie, and a little
+warm clothing for the other children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was as much as Gracie could do to refrain from protesting that she
+didn't want a chest protector, or any nonsense of that sort, but when
+she passed her word she was not in the habit of breaking it, so she
+contented herself with shutting her thin white lips tight, and looking
+defiantly at the mist that filled the room. Which revenged itself by
+tickling her throat to such a degree that she almost choked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He went out in the morning full of hope,&quot; said Mrs. Death, when the
+fit of coughing was over, &quot;and came home full of despair. Instead of
+getting the loan which was to set us free and give the children a
+chance, he had been discharged. Discharged, gentlemen, discharged, at
+a moment's notice! It came upon me like a thunder-clap, and when I saw
+my husband sitting at the table with his face hidden in his hands, I
+wondered what we were sent into the world for. Look at my little
+Gracie here, gentlemen. She doesn't weigh half her proper weight, and
+she hasn't an ounce of flesh on her bones. She's more like a skeleton
+than anything else, and so are we all. Look at her, and look at me,
+and think of our little children at home almost at the point of death,
+and you'll understand why my poor dear husband was filled with
+despair. Oh, it's bitter cruel, bitter, bitter cruel! One tries, and
+tries, and tries, and never a spark of light to comfort us. Nothing
+but misery, nothing but misery, nothing but misery!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was terrible to hear the repetition of her words, terrible to
+witness her agony and her just rebellion against her cruel fate.
+Gracie did not speak, but slid her little hand, cold as ice, into the
+hand of her mother, who clasped it convulsively. Quietly and
+impassively the child watched the faces of the listeners to note the
+effect the appeal had upon them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would it be a breach of duty to introduce a mug of hot tea into a
+police station?&quot; asked Dick of the Inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it would not,&quot; said Inspector Robson. &quot;There's a can in the
+cupboard there. Here's a shilling. Get it filled.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must stop and hear the end of this story,&quot; said Dick. &quot;I've a
+reason for it. The constable can go, can't he?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson nodded, and the tin can and the shilling being given
+to the constable, he departed on the errand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By this time the woman had sufficiently recovered to proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There my poor husband sat, the picture of misery, and never said a
+word, and I hadn't a word of comfort to give him. To tell him to bear
+up--what would have been the use of that? I put before him what little
+food there was in the cupboard, but he pushed it away and wouldn't
+touch it. All at once he started up and said, 'I'm going out.' 'Where
+to?' I asked, and I put my hand on his arm to keep him at home, for
+his face was dreadful to see, and I was afraid of--I don't know what.
+He guessed what was in my mind. 'No,' he said, 'don't think that of
+me. You've got enough trouble to bear as it is; I won't bring more on
+you. I'll fight on to the bitter end.' You know what was in my mind, I
+dare say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman resumed. &quot;'Where are you going?' I asked him again. 'To
+Catchpole Square,' he answered. 'I'll make another appeal to Mr.
+Boyd.' I didn't think there was any hope for us, but I knew it would
+dishearten him if I said as much, and I let him go. As near as I can
+remember it was half past nine, and I expected him back before eleven,
+but at eleven there was no sign of him. I did not dare to leave the
+house, for the children hadn't got to sleep yet, and if he returned
+while I was away it would put everything in confusion. I waited and
+waited till I could bear it no longer, and then I went out to look for
+him, thinking that perhaps Mr. Boyd had relented, and had given my
+husband work to do which kept him in the office all night. It was past
+two when I reached Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows.
+There's never any life to be seen there, and I didn't see any then.
+There was a bell-pull at the door that wouldn't ring, so I knocked and
+knocked and kept on knocking without any one coming. I hung about the
+Square for an hour and more, and knocked again and again as loud as I
+could, and at last I came away and ran home, hoping to see my husband
+there. Gracie was awake, and said nobody had come while I was away.
+Can you understand my feelings, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can,&quot; replied Inspector Robson, as the constable entered the office
+with an empty cup and the can of hot tea. &quot;Take a drink of this before
+you go on. It'll warm you up.&quot; He filled the cup with the steaming
+liquid and gave it to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie's eyes glittered, but she did not move, and when her mother
+offered her the mug she said, &quot;No, mother. After you's manners,&quot; in
+quite an elegant way, as though their mission to the police station
+was to take afternoon tea with the Inspector. Mrs. Death, too well
+acquainted with her child's character to attempt any persuasion,
+therefore drank first, deep sighs of satisfaction betokening her
+gratitude. Refilling the cup Inspector Robson handed it to Gracie,
+who, before she put it to her lips, said, in her best society manner,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'To you and yours, sir, and gentlemen all, and may none of you ever
+feel the want of it. The Lord make us truly thankful! Hallelujah!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A form of grace which, but for the pathetic side of the picture, might
+have caused some amusement to those who heard it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing of Gracie's face could be seen except her coal black eyes
+glittering like dusky stars above the white rim of the mug as she
+tilted it, and though the tea scalded her throat she made no pause
+till the last drop was finished. Then she sidled up to her mother and
+stood quietly there, her child-soul filled with thankfulness which was
+not expressed in her thin, sallow face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Saturday passed, sir,&quot; said the woman, pressing Gracie to her side
+and resuming her story, &quot;and he didn't come home, and nobody could
+tell me anything about him. It was the same all day Sunday and all
+yesterday; I was never off my feet. Half-a-dozen times every day have
+I been to Catchpole Square, knocking at the door without being able to
+make anybody hear. What am I to do, what <i>am</i> I to do? If somebody
+don't help me, I shall go mad!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The only thing I can suggest just now,&quot; said Inspector Robson, &quot;is
+that your husband's disappearance should be made public. Come to the
+magistrate's court to-morrow morning at twelve or one o'clock. I will
+be there, and will see that you get a hearing. Some of the reporters
+will take notice of it, and it will get into the papers. It's the best
+advice I can give you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll follow it, sir,&quot; said the woman, but it was evident that she had
+given up hope. &quot;Thank you kindly for listening to me so patiently.
+Come, Gracie, we'll go home. Will it be sure to get into the papers,
+sir, if I come to the magistrate's court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson looked at Dick, who nodded. &quot;I think I can promise
+that. Now get home as quickly as possible, and put your little girl to
+bed. Her cough is dreadful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In a voice as hoarse as any raven's, and quite composedly, as if the
+Inspector were the object of compassion, Grace said, &quot;Don't let it
+worry you, please. <i>I</i> don't mind it, not a bit.&quot; She drew her breath
+hard as she added without any show of feeling, &quot;You <i>will</i> find
+father, won't you? Mother'll never forget you for it. You've been ever
+so good to us. I never tasted such tea, and, oh my! wasn't it hot
+neither? Come along, mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You had better leave your address,&quot; said Dick, who had listened to
+the woman's story with absorbed attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We live at Draper's Mews, number 7, second floor back.&quot; While Dick
+was writing it down Inspector Robson slipped a sixpence into Gracie's
+hand. Then, patting her shoulder, he gave her an encouraging smile,
+which she acknowledged, as she did the sixpence, though her fingers
+closed quickly and tightly over the coin, with the same gravity as
+distinguished all her movements. Emerging into the street she began to
+cough with great violence, and gasped and fought with her little
+fists, as though the demon in her chest, now that he had got her
+outside, was bent upon tearing her to pieces. The men in the police
+station listened compassionately until the child and her cough were
+lost in the fog through which she and her mother were slowly creeping.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that in your line, Dick?&quot; said Inspector Robson. &quot;You were wishing
+for something startling, and I should say you've got it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is hardly startling enough yet,&quot; Dick replied, &quot;but there's no
+telling what it may lead to. Have you formed an opinion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I haven't heard lately of any dead bodies being found that couldn't
+be identified, but it looks to me as if the man has made away with
+himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, uncle. I'll take his own word for it that he'd do his duty and
+fight it out to the bitter end.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mightn't he have said so to his wife to quiet her? And even if it
+wasn't in his mind then, it might have come suddenly afterwards. When
+a man's in the state he was, there's no telling what he might do on
+the spur of the moment. I don't throw doubt on Mrs. Death's story,
+though I've heard some queer stories in my time and believed in them
+at the time they were told, only to find out a little later that there
+wasn't one word of truth in them. The lengths that people'll go to
+whose minds are unsettled is astonishing. Astonishing!&quot; he repeated
+reflectively. &quot;How often do you hear of men giving themselves up as
+murderers when they're as innocent as the babe unborn!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Suppose we try and follow Mrs. Death's story out, uncle,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go ahead. Upon my word, Dick, I almost fancy I hear that poor child's
+cough now--the ghost of a cough travelling through the fog. It will
+make a ghost of her, I'm afraid, before she's many weeks older.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor little mite!&quot; said Dick, and paused a moment. &quot;Uncle Rob, you've
+the kindest heart that ever beat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pooh, pooh, my lad, the fog's got into your foolish noddle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You don't deserve,&quot; pursued Dick, very earnestly, &quot;to have trouble
+come upon you unaware----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick!&quot; cried Inspector Robson, startled by the unusual earnestness
+with which the words were spoken no less than by the words themselves.
+&quot;Trouble come upon me unaware! Do you know what you are saying, my
+lad?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was thinking,&quot; said Dick, in some confusion, &quot;of the trouble that
+comes unexpectedly to many people without their being prepared for
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that! Well, when such trouble comes we've got to bear it and meet
+it like men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was in Dick's mind, though not upon his tongue, &quot;But if it comes
+upon you through the one you hold most dear, through Florence, dear to
+me as to you, how will you bear it then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go on with the story of Abel Death, Dick. The last we see of him is
+when he sits at the table in his lodgings with his head in his hands,
+and starts up to make one more appeal to Samuel Boyd. The first
+question is, does he go straight to Catchpole Square, or does he go
+into a public and get drunk?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He goes straight to Catchpole Square, and knocks at Samuel Boyd's
+door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Admitted--for the sake of argument.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The next question is, does he get into the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And there,&quot; said the Inspector, &quot;we come to a full stop.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not at all. Let us consider the possibilities. There are a dozen
+doors open.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All opening on different roads, and leading to confusion. Better to
+have one strong clue than a dozen to distract your mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Granted,&quot; said Dick; &quot;but in the absence of that one strong clue I
+shall leave all the doors open till I see what is behind them. Let us
+suppose that Abel Death gets into the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Openly or secretly, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Openly. Samuel Boyd admits him. He takes delight in playing with
+those whom he oppresses, in worrying and torturing them, in leading
+them on to hope, and then plunging them into despair. Abel Death being
+in the house, the question arises did he ever get out of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What are you thinking of, Dick? Murder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The man is gone, and left no trace behind. If he had committed
+suicide it is a thousand to one that his body would have been found
+and identified.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;True.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do men commit suicide?&quot; continued Dick. &quot;I will confine myself to
+four methods: by poison, by hanging, by shooting, by drowning. It
+would have been difficult for Abel Death to purchase poison; his
+nerves were unstrung, and an inquiry for poison across the counter
+would have caused suspicion; the state of agitation he was in would
+have prevented the invention of a plausible explanation. We put poison
+aside. A pistol he could not have possessed, because of his poverty.
+We put shooting aside. Hanging comes next; but if he had resorted to
+that means of ending his life a very few hours would have sufficed to
+make the matter public. There would be no mystery to clear up. This
+reduces us to drowning. The water-ways of London do not hide many
+secrets of this nature, and had he sought death in the river his body
+would have been washed ashore.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Therefore, Dick,&quot; said Inspector Robson, looking at his nephew in
+admiration, &quot;not suicide.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Therefore, uncle, not suicide.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He may have run away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With what object? His pockets were empty, and the idea of
+unfaithfulness to his wife is preposterous.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well. Let us get back to the main point. What has become of Abel
+Death. We left him in Samuel Boyd's house, and we decide that he did
+not come out of it. I am going to have my say now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fire away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The man not coming out of the house, the natural conclusion is that
+he is dead, and if he did not meet his death by suicide there has been
+murder done. To be sure,&quot; he said, reflectively, &quot;there are other
+probabilities. He might have had heart disease--might have fallen down
+in a fit which put an end to him. Assuming this, what course would
+Samuel Boyd, or any sensible person, pursue? He would give
+information--his own safety depended upon it. A doctor's certificate
+as to the cause of death would clear him. He does nothing of the sort.
+He keeps himself locked up in the house, and refuses to answer the
+repeated knocks at his street door. I have heard you say he lives
+alone, and that no servant sleeps in the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Catchpole Square leads to nowhere. It is, in a certain sense, out of
+the world. Can you tell me, of your own knowledge, whether Samuel Boyd
+keeps sums of money in his house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of my own positive knowledge I cannot tell you; but I am convinced
+that he does.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What we've got to look to in these cases,&quot; said Inspector Robson,
+sagely, &quot;is motive--motive. The mainspring in a watch keeps it going;
+motive is the mainspring in a man, and it keeps <i>him</i> going. Now, what
+motive had Samuel Boyd for murdering Abel Death--always supposing,
+Dick, that there was a murder? He had nothing to gain by it, and it
+was not he who went to Abel Death's house, but Abel Death who went to
+his. And went with anger and despair in his heart. Put it the other
+way----yes, by the Lord!&quot; he cried, as if a light had suddenly broken
+upon him. &quot;Put it the other way. There was a motive for Abel Death
+murdering Samuel Boyd. He was poor, and in desperate need of money;
+his master was rich, and had refused to give it to him. The motive was
+robbery, by fair means or foul. If this is what occurred Abel Death's
+disappearance is explained. He's in hiding somewhere, or has managed
+to get on board a ship bound for foreign parts.&quot; He broke off with a
+laugh. &quot;What nonsense am I talking? My wits are going wool-gathering.
+You've fairly muddled me, Dick, by the serious way you've spoken of
+this affair, in which, after all, I don't see anything mysterious.
+I've known scores of cases where people have disappeared, and have
+come back after a few days or weeks, or months even, in the most
+natural manner possible. Be careful of what you do, my lad, or you're
+likely to get yourself in a tangle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll be careful, uncle. You will see me at the magistrate's court in
+the morning. Good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't I persuade you to come home with me?&quot; said Inspector Robson, in
+his kindest tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; my mind's quite made up on that point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He walked towards the door, Inspector Robson looking ruefully and
+affectionately after him, when he turned and said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By the way, uncle, have you seen Mr. Reginald lately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not since last Sunday week, when he dropped in, as usual. Him and
+Florence went out for a walk together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As usual,&quot; said Dick, lightly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As usual,&quot; said Inspector Robson, gravely. &quot;He's a gentlemanly young
+fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Been to France and Germany, and to good schools for education.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he tell you that himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Florence told us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear little Florence!&quot; Such wistful tenderness and regret in his
+voice!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aunt Rob thinks all the world of him,&quot; said Inspector Robson, his
+voice also charged with tenderness and regret.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know she does.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson stepped to Dick's side, and laid his hand caressingly
+on the young man's shoulder. &quot;Dick! Dick!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No nonsense of that sort, uncle,&quot; said Dick, gently shaking himself
+free. &quot;I've been going to ask you once or twice whether you put any
+other name to Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now you mention it, Dick, I never have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has Aunt Rob, or Florence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not that I'm aware of. We've always called him Mr. Reginald. It's not
+a bad name, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not at all a bad name, but most people have two. Good night, uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good night, Dick, if you <i>must</i> go.&quot; Other words were struggling to
+his lips, but before he could utter them Dick was off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It never struck me before,&quot; mused Inspector Robson, sadly. &quot;Can that
+be the reason----&quot; He did not say the reason of what, and his
+cogitation ended with, &quot;Poor Dick! I hope not--I hope not!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick Remington also mused as he made his way through the white mist.
+His thoughts, put into words, ran in this wise:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, old man, let us review the past, and see how we stand. If I'm
+not mistaken Aunt Rob has hit the nail straight on the head, and Uncle
+Rob made a clumsy blow at it. But my secret is mine, and I will guard
+it jealously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear little Florence! My chum, my comrade, almost from the day of her
+birth. Boys aren't generally fond of babies, but I was of her from the
+first; and when as a child she promised to be my wife when she grew up
+I did not think of it as a thistledown promise that time would lightly
+blow away. At that age we do not think; our hearts, our souls, are
+like a prism which leaps into light and colour when light and colour
+shine upon it. Had I been wiser I might have believed that a more
+enduring flower than thistledown would grow up in its place, a flower
+that would bloom and shed its sweetness and fragrance upon me through
+all the years to come. Thank God I was not wiser, for we were very
+happy then. It was only when graver responsibilities forced themselves
+upon me that I knew, as I know now, that she and she alone could bring
+happiness into my life. Fate willed it otherwise. It can never be.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would it have been otherwise had I myself been different from what I
+am, been firmer of purpose, had won respect and esteem for sterling
+qualities that are not in my nature? Who can tell? We are the sport of
+circumstance, and drift, and drift, and drift--as I have drifted. You
+are quite right, Aunt Rob. Your nephew, Dick Remington, has no
+stability--but he can keep his secret.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does Florence suspect it? Sometimes I have thought she has a fear
+that the love I bear for her is not the love a brother bears for his
+sister; sometimes I have thought there was a dumb pity in her eyes as
+she looked at me. And when, with this impression upon me, I have
+launched into light speech and manner, as though I were incapable of
+deeper feeling, I have noticed the relief it gave her to learn that
+she was mistaken. Of one thing she may be sure. That there is no
+sacrifice I would hesitate to make to secure her happiness--that she
+may rely upon me and trust me with implicit confidence--that I am
+her faithful watchdog, ready to die in her service without hope of
+reward. Yes, dear Florence--so dear that my heart aches when I think
+of her--be sure of that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She grew into beauty incomparable, and to observe this was a daily
+delight to me. But I love her chiefly for her gentleness, her purity,
+her dear womanly ways which find their best expression in her kindness
+and sweetness to all around her. We lived our quiet life, disturbed
+only by my harum-scarum habits, and then Mr. Reginald stepped into the
+picture--Mr. Reginald Boyd, son of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square.
+That was before I took service with the old hunks, and it was because
+of the son that I sought and obtained a situation in the father's
+office. For I said to myself, 'Here is this young gentleman
+introducing himself simply as Mr. Reginald, when I, from my previous
+knowledge of him (of which he was not aware) know him to be the son of
+that man. What reason has he for the suppression?' There was no
+acquaintance between us. Happening to be in conversation one day with
+a constable in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square a young gentleman
+passed with a flower in his coat. There was something in him that
+struck me as bearing a resemblance to myself, the advantage being on
+his side. A free and easy manner, a certain carelessness of gesture,
+an apparent disregard of conventionality, a bright smile (which I have
+not), a grace (which I have not). He gave the constable a friendly
+word and walked on without looking at me. 'Who is that gentleman?' I
+inquired. 'Mr. Reginald,' the constable answered, 'son of Samuel Boyd,
+though you would hardly believe it if you knew the pair of them.' I
+thought no more of the matter, and saw no more of Mr. Reginald, till
+he made his appearance one evening in Aunt Rob's house. He did not
+recognise me, but I knew him immediately.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We were introduced by Florence. 'My cousin, Dick Remington,' she
+said, 'Mr. Reginald.' There was a blush on her cheek, a shy look in
+her eyes. I waited for his other name. Why did it not come? Because
+the name of Samuel Boyd was held in general detestation? It was a fair
+inference that that was his reason for concealing it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He became a regular visitor to the house, and I perceived that his
+visits were eagerly looked forward to by Florence. Have I delayed too
+long? I thought. Have I been foolishly silent as to the real feelings
+I entertain for the dear girl, and given another man the chance of
+occupying the place in her heart which it was my dearest wish to fill?
+The thought was torture; I seemed to awake from a dream. For had I
+spoken in time my love for her might have awakened a responsive echo
+in her breast. I cannot speak with certainty as to this, but it might
+have been. One day I saw Florence and Mr. Reginald walking out
+together, he speaking with animation, she listening modestly with head
+cast down. I was careful that they should not see me. They passed from
+my sight through the garden of hope and love, I pursued my way through
+an arid waste.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some spiritual resemblance between the arid waste of his hopes and the
+arid waste of white mist through which he was walking seemed to strike
+him here. It brought a sudden chill to his heart. Love that was
+hopeless could have found no more emphatic illustration than the
+silence and desolation by which he was surrounded. The light of heaven
+had died out of the world. No star shone, no moon shed its peaceful
+rays upon the earth, and for a few moments he allowed the deathlike
+lethargy of nature to overpower him. Through the silence stole a
+muffled voice:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lost, lost for ever is the love you hoped to gain. Not for you the
+tender look and word, the sweet embrace, love's kiss upon your going
+and returning, the prattle of children's voices, the patter of little
+feet, the clinging of little arms. Not for you the joys of Home!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So powerfully was he affected by these melancholy thoughts that he
+involuntarily raised his hand, as if to avoid a blow.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE
+SERVICE OF SAMUEL BOYD.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">But Dick's nature was too elastic for morbid reflections such as these
+to hold possession of him for any length of time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, come, old man,&quot; ran again the tenor of his musings, &quot;this sort
+of thing won't do, you know. What's the use of crying for the moon?
+Leave that to children. Now where did I leave off? Ah--where Mr.
+Reginald was a regular visitor at Aunt Rob's house. All that time the
+name of Boyd was not mentioned by Florence or her parents. Nor did it
+pass my lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I took service with Mr. Samuel Boyd in order to obtain a clue to his
+son's suppression of his name. Before I had been with him a week I
+gauged his character. Devoid of the least sign of generous sentiment,
+crafty, tricky, mean, overbearing to those in his power, fawning
+to those above his station from whom he hoped to obtain some
+advantage--such is the character of this odious man, whose son was
+then winning, or had won, his way into Florence's heart. If there is
+any truth in the adage, 'Like father, like son,' what a fate is in
+store for her! Fervently do I trust that this is not so, though there
+are tricks of inheritance from which it is impossible to escape.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not once did I see Mr. Reginald in his father's house, nor did Mr.
+Boyd make the slightest reference to him. Had Mr. Boyd any other
+residence in which he and his son were in the habit of meeting? No--he
+lived in Catchpole Square, had his meals there, slept there,
+transacted his business there. Yet his son was in London, within easy
+distance of him. It was obvious that they were not on friendly terms.
+I set my wits to work to ascertain the cause, but cautious as I was, I
+found myself baffled at every turn. Convinced that Mr. Boyd would turn
+me out of the house the moment his suspicions were aroused, the task I
+had undertaken proved more difficult than I had anticipated. If I kept
+secret watch upon him he kept secret watch upon me. That he had no
+confidence in me is not strange, for he has no confidence in any man.
+And the cunning tricks he played! He would leave me alone and go
+downstairs and slam the street door, to make me believe that he had
+left the house. Then, though not another sound had reached my ears, he
+would suddenly enter the room, treading like a cat, and with a sly
+smile on his lips, and his cunning eyes would wander around to assure
+himself that not an article had been shifted or removed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I remained with him three months, and discovered--nothing. During the
+first two months I did not tell them at home where I was employed, and
+they teazed me about making a secret of it. A week or so before I left
+Mr. Boyd's service I fired a shot straight at Mr. Reginald. It was on
+a Sunday, and we were sitting together, chatting as usual, when I said
+suddenly, 'I don't see, Aunt Rob, why I should continue to make a
+mystery of the work I am doing. I am clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square.' Mr. Reginald flushed up, but I took no notice, and
+went on to say that I had resolved not to stay much longer in the
+place--that the pay was miserable, that the kind of business done
+there was disreputable and execrable, and that Samuel Boyd was one of
+the trickiest and cunningest fellows in all London; in fact, I gave
+him the worst of characters, and my only excuse is that he thoroughly
+deserved it. 'That's another situation thrown up,' said Aunt Rob. 'Oh,
+Dick, Dick, a rolling stone gathers no moss.' 'Would you advise me to
+stop with such a man, and gather dirt?' I asked. 'No, I would not,'
+she answered emphatically. 'That Samuel Boyd must be an out-and-out
+rascal.' 'He is,' I said. 'You would hardly believe the things I've
+seen in his office, the pitiless ruin he brings upon people.' Mr.
+Reginald said never a word; the flush died out of his face, and it
+turned white. I looked at Florence--no sign upon <i>her</i> face that she
+knew anything of the man we were speaking of. Here was proof positive
+that Mr. Reginald had introduced himself under false colours.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As all Mr. Boyd's other clerks had done, <i>I</i> left at a moment's
+notice, but I did not give him the opportunity of discharging me. I
+discharged him. He had played me one of his usual tricks, pretending
+to leave the house and sneaking in noiselessly behind my back and
+looking over my shoulder. It happened that, with my thoughts on
+Florence and Mr. Reginald, I had idly scribbled his name on a piece of
+paper, Mr. Reginald Boyd. Before I could put the paper away he had
+seen it. 'Ah,' he said, without any show of passion, 'I have found you
+out at last, you scoundrel!' 'Scoundrel yourself,' I cried. 'Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, I discharge you. I've had about enough of you.' 'I've had
+more than enough of you,' he snarled. 'You came here to spy upon me,
+did you? You and your Mr. Reginald are confederates, are you, and you
+wormed yourself into my service in pursuance of some plot against me.
+I'll prosecute the pair of you for conspiracy.' 'You are a fool as
+well as a knave, Mr. Samuel Boyd,' I said, laughing in his face. 'As
+for prosecuting me, shall I fetch a policeman, or will you go for one?
+I shall have something to tell him that will get into the papers. It
+will make fine reading.' He turned white at this. 'Go,' he said,
+throwing open the door. And I went, without asking for the five days'
+pay due to me, to which, perhaps, I was not entitled as I left him
+without giving him notice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Dick, old man, what is to be done? The straight thing is to
+speak first to Mr. Reginald himself, and that I'll do before I'm many
+days older.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here Dick's meditations came to an end. There were no indications that
+the fog was clearing, but his service with Samuel Boyd had made him
+familiar with the neighbourhood, and he threaded his way towards
+Catchpole Square without much difficulty. He had not met a soul on the
+road; the streets were quite deserted. &quot;A man could almost fancy,&quot; he
+thought, &quot;that he was walking through the vaults of death.&quot; In Shore
+Street--the backs of the houses in which faced the fronts of the
+houses in Catchpole Square--he stumbled against a human being who
+caught him by the arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who are you when you're at home?&quot; demanded the man. &quot;Here--let's have
+a look at you. I've had a large dose of shadders to-night; it's a
+relief to get hold of bone and muscle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He pulled out his bull's-eye lamp and held it up to Dick's face, who
+laughingly said, &quot;Well, what do you make of my face? You're cleverer
+than I am, Applebee, if you can distinguish features on such a night
+as this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, if it ain't Mr. Dick Remington!&quot; cried Constable Applebee. &quot;Beg
+your pardon, sir, but I've been that put out to-night that I can't be
+sure of anything. If anybody was to say to me, 'Applebee, that head on
+your shoulders don't belong to you,' I'd half believe him, I would
+indeed, sir. What with shadders that wouldn't give you a civil answer
+when you spoke to 'em, and that you could walk right through, and
+taking hold of flesh and blood that slipped through your fingers
+like a ghost, to say nothing of the fog, which is a pretty large
+order--well, if all that ain't enough to worry a night policeman, I'd
+like to know what is.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Worry enough, in all conscience,&quot; said Dick, &quot;and you've got a level
+head, too, if any member of the force has. You're the last man I
+should have expected to be scared by shadows.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not what you might call scared,&quot; replied Constable Applebee,
+unwilling to admit as much to a layman; &quot;put out, sir, put out--that's
+the right word. A man may be put out in so many ways. His wife may put
+him out--and she often does--an underdone chop may put him out--a
+fractious child may put him out--likewise buttons. It's what we're
+born to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, say put out,&quot; said Dick with a hearty laugh. &quot;And by shadows,
+too, of all things in the world! Still, one might be excused on such a
+night as this. The mist floats, shadows rise, and there you are. All
+sorts of fancies crept into my head as I walked along, and if I'd been
+employed on duty as monotonous as yours I have no doubt I should have
+heard sounds and seen shapes that have no existence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You talk like a book, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was the nature of the flesh and blood that slipped through your
+fingers like a ghost, Applebee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Human nature, sir. I'll take my oath it was a woman. I had her by the
+arm, and presto! she was gone!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A woman,&quot; said Dick, thinking of Mrs. Death. &quot;Did she have a child
+with her, a poor little mite with a churchyard cough?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't call to mind a child. It was in Catchpole Square it happened.
+I shall report it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course you will,&quot; said Dick, convinced that it was Mrs. Death, but
+wondering why she should have been so anxious to escape. &quot;Talking of
+Catchpole Square, have you seen anything this last day or two of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Haven't set eyes on him for a week past. To make sure, now--is it a
+week? No, it was Friday night that I saw him last. I can fix the time
+because a carriage pulled up at Deadman's Court, and a lady got out.
+She went through the court, followed by the footman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did she stop long, do you know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Couldn't have stopped very long. I hung about a bit, and when I come
+round again the carriage was driving away. All sorts of people deal
+with Samuel Boyd, poor and rich, high and low. That house of his could
+tell tales.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So could most houses, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;True enough, sir. There's no city in the world so full of mystery as
+London. We're a strange lot, sir. I read in a book once that every
+house contains a skeleton. The human mind, sir,&quot; said Constable
+Applebee, philosophically, &quot;the human mind is a box, and no one but
+the man who owns that mind knows what is shut up in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a pregnant opening for discussion, but Dick did not pursue it.
+He returned to the subject that was engrossing his thoughts.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Samuel Boyd kept a clerk,----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I pity the poor devil,&quot; interjected the constable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So do I. The name of his last clerk is Abel Death. You've noticed
+him, I dare say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes, I've noticed him. A weedy sort of chap--looks as it he had
+all the cares of the world on his shoulders. I didn't know his name,
+though. Abel Death! If it was mine, I'd change it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you seen him lately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me think, now. It was Friday night when I saw him last. I noticed
+him particularly, because he staggered a bit, walked zig-zag like, as
+if he'd had a glass too much. That was what I thought at first, but I
+altered my opinion when I caught sight of his face. It wasn't so much
+like a man who'd been drinking, but like one who was fairly demented.
+Any special reason for asking about him, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No special reason,&quot; replied Dick, not feeling himself justified in
+revealing what had passed in the police station, &quot;You would call Mr.
+Death a respectable person, I suppose?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When there's nothing against a man,&quot; said Constable Applebee, &quot;you're
+bound in common fairness to call him respectable. From the little I
+know of him I should say, poor, <i>but</i> respectable. If we come to that,
+there's plenty of poor devils in the same boat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Too many, Applebee. I can't help thinking of that woman you caught by
+the arm. It was a curious little adventure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was, sir, and I don't know that I was ever more nonplussed.
+There's nothing curious in her being in Catchpole Square. She might
+have slipped in there to sleep the night out, not having money enough
+to pay for a bed. Pond and me happened to meet on the boundary of our
+beats, and we strolled into the Square. I could have swore that she
+was creeping along the wall; perhaps she was scared at the sight of
+us, and had a reason for not wanting to fall in the hands of the law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will hardly hold water,&quot; said Dick. &quot;She could have had no
+clearer a sight of you than you had of her. There have been too many
+bad deeds committed in dark places in the dead of the night, and
+seeing something moving that she couldn't account for, she was
+frightened and ran away. Did you call out to her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did. 'Now, then,' I cried, 'what are you up to?' Not a word did she
+answer. Then I caught hold of her; then she vanished. Which goes to
+prove,&quot; said Constable Applebee, contemplatively, &quot;that she wasn't one
+of the regular ones. If she'd been a regular one she'd have cheeked
+us. Not being a regular one, what business did she have there? Anyway
+Catchpole Square ain't exactly the place <i>I</i> would choose for a
+night's lodging.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Beggars can't be choosers,&quot; remarked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Right you are, sir. They can't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The conversation slackened, and the men walked slowly along Shore
+Street, the constable, like a zealous officer, trying the doors and
+looking up at the windows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The people inside,&quot; he said, &quot;are better off than we are. They're
+snugly tucked up between the sheets, dreaming of pleasanter things
+than tramping a thick fog.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's somebody there,&quot; said Dick, pointing to a first floor
+window, where, through the mist, a light could be dimly seen,
+&quot;who isn't between the sheets. See how the light shifts, like a
+will-o'-the-wisp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's Dr. Pye's house, where the midnight oil is always burning.
+Yes, he's awake, the doctor; it's my belief he never sleeps. A clever
+gentleman, Dr. Pye, as chockful of science as an egg is of meat. Do
+you happen to be acquainted with him, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A strange character, sir. The things they tell of him is beyond
+belief. I've heard say that he's discovered the secret of prolonging
+life, and of making an old man young.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you haven't heard that he has ever done it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, or I might have asked him what his charge was for taking ten or
+twenty years off. Perhaps it's as well, though, to fight shy of that
+sort of thing. What they say of Dr. Pye may be true, or it mayn't, but
+you may make sure that he's always at his experiments. Pass his house
+at any hour of the night you like, and you may depend upon seeing that
+light burning in his window.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Those are the men who make the wonderful discoveries we hear of from
+time to time. Think of what the world was and what it is. How did
+people do without reading? How did people do without gas? How did they
+do without steam? How did they do without electricity? That little
+light burning in Dr. Pye's window may mean greater wonders than ever
+was found in Aladdin's cave. As Shakespeare says, Applebee, 'What a
+piece of work is man!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; observed Constable Applebee, with a profound shake of his head,
+&quot;he might well say that, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Putting a supposititious case,&quot; said Dick, and as Constable Applebee
+remarked to his wife next day when he gave her an account of this
+conversation, &quot;the way he went on and the words he used fairly
+flabbergasted me&quot;--&quot;Putting a supposititious case, let us suppose that
+you and I fell asleep as we are standing here, and woke up in fifty
+years, what astounding things we should see!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It won't bear thinking of, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then we won't think of it. Applebee, I am surprised that you have not
+asked me why I am wandering through the streets on such a night and at
+such an hour, when <i>I</i> ought to be snug in bed, dreaming of--angels.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who am I, sir, that I should be putting a parcel of questions to
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You exhibit a delicacy for which you deserve great credit. I will
+make a clean breast of it, Applebee. The fact is, I am looking for a
+lodging.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You always <i>was</i> a bit of a wag, sir,&quot; said Constable Applebee, with
+twinkling eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was I? But I assure you I am not wagging now. Do you know of a room
+to let in a decent house in the neighbourhood, where they would give
+their young man lodger a latchkey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, <i>are</i> you serious, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As a judge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, there's Constable Pond, sir. He's taken a house in
+Paradise Row, and there's a room to let in it; he mentioned it to me
+only to-night. If you're really in earnest he'd jump at you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From which metaphor,&quot; said Dick, with mock seriousness, &quot;I judge that
+he would consider me an eminently fit person to be entrusted with a
+latchkey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the ticket, sir,&quot; said Constable Applebee, bursting with
+laughter. &quot;Upon <i>my</i> word, you're the merriest gentleman I've ever
+known. It's as good as a play, it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Better than many I've seen, I hope,&quot; said Dick, still with his mock
+serious air, which confirmed Constable Applebee in his belief that the
+young fellow was having a joke with him. &quot;Am I mistaken in supposing
+that there is a Mrs. Pond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To be sure there is, and as nice a woman as ever breathed. No family
+at present, but my missis tells me&quot;--here he dropped his voice, as
+though he were communicating a secret of a sacred nature--&quot;that Mrs.
+Pond has expectations.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May they be realised in a happy hour! I'll pay a visit to the Ponds
+to-morrow, and if the room is not snapped up in the meantime by
+another person you will hear of me as their young man lodger. Good
+night, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good night, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Constable Applebee looked after him till he was swallowed up in the
+prevailing gloom, and then resumed his duties.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What a chap that is!&quot; he ruminated. &quot;You can't mention a subject he
+ain't up in. That notion of his of falling asleep and waking up in
+fifty years ain't half a bad one. He does put ideas into a man's head.
+It's an education to talk to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick did not hesitate as to his route. Turning the corner of Shore
+Street he walked to Deadman's Court, and through it into Catchpole
+Square, where he paused before the house of Samuel Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No midnight oil burning there,&quot; he mused, his eyes searching the
+windows for some sign of life. &quot;The place is as still as death itself.
+I'll try Mrs. Death's dodge. If Mr. Boyd comes down I'll ask him if he
+has a room to let.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He smiled at the notion, and applied himself to the knocker. But
+though he knocked, and knocked vigorously again and again, and threw
+stones at the upper panes of glass, and listened at the door, he heard
+no movement within the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's a mystery inside these walls,&quot; said Dick, &quot;and I'll pluck out
+its heart, or know the reason why. But how to obtain an entrance? The
+adjoining houses are empty. Is there a door loose in one of them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was no door loose; even if there had been, Dick, upon
+reflection, did not see how it would have been of assistance to him.
+There was a dead wall at the back of the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That way, perhaps,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He left the Square, and groped in the direction of the dead wall. It
+was about ten feet in height--a smooth expanse of cement, with not a
+foothold in it by which he could mount to the top. A rope with a
+grapnel at the end would meet the case, and Dick determined to procure
+one, and pay another visit to the place the following night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He lingered in the neighbourhood, sitting down on a doorstep now and
+again, and closing his eyes for a few minutes' doze. During these
+intervals of insensibility the strangest fancies presented themselves.
+He was with Mrs. Death and Gracie in the police station, listening to
+the story she had told, which now was exaggerated and distorted in a
+thousand different ways. &quot;My husband, my husband!&quot; she moaned &quot;What
+shall I do without him? What will the children do without him?&quot; The
+police station was instantly crowded with a great number of ragged
+little elfs, who, with misery in their faces, wailed, &quot;What shall we
+do without him? What shall we do without him?&quot; And then, in the midst
+of a sudden silence, Gracie's hoarse voice, saying, &quot;You <i>will</i> find
+father, won't you?&quot; An appeal immediately taken up by the horde of
+children, &quot;You <i>will</i> find father, won't you? You <i>will</i> find father!
+You <i>will</i> find father!&quot; The vision faded, and he saw Abel Death
+staggering through a deserted street in which only one sickly yellow
+light was burning. He was talking to himself, and his face was
+convulsed with passion. Behind him slunk the figure of Samuel
+Boyd--and behind him, Mr. Reginald and Florence. Good God! What
+brought <i>them</i> into the tragic mystery? What possible or impossible
+part had <i>they</i> played in it? The torture of the dreamer's mind was
+momentarily arrested by the ringing out of one dread word, clear and
+shrill as from the mouth of a clarion!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;MURDER!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick started to his feet, his forehead bathed in perspiration. Had the
+word really been uttered, and by whom? He stood in the midst of
+silence and darkness.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND
+PICKED UP IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; was an afternoon newspaper with a great
+circulation, which took for its motto the familiar lines:--</p>
+<div class="poem2">
+
+<p class="t2" style="text-indent:-8px">&quot;How doth the Little Busy Bee</p>
+<p class="t3">Improve each shining hour,</p>
+<p class="t2">And gather honey all the day</p>
+<p class="t3">From ev'ry opening flow'r.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="continue">To this journal Dick had been an occasional contributor, and he was
+responsible for a paragraph which appeared in its columns on the day
+following Mrs. Death's visit to the police station:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;BISHOP STREET POLICE COURT.--A respectable woman, in great distress
+of mind, accompanied by her little daughter, begged permission to make
+a statement to the magistrate. It appears that her husband, Mr. Abel
+Death, residing at 7, Draper's Mews, and employed as a clerk in the
+office of Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, quite suddenly received
+his discharge last Friday night, and came home greatly distressed by
+the dismissal, as well as by pecuniary difficulties and by sickness in
+his family. Later in the night, at about ten o'clock, he went out,
+with the intention, as he stated, of making an appeal to his employer
+to reinstate him. He did not return home, and from that night his wife
+has heard nothing of him. Mrs. Death has been several times to
+Catchpole Square, in the hope of obtaining some information from Mr.
+Boyd, but as her knocking at the door has met with no response the
+presumption is that that gentleman is out of town. The magistrate said
+he was sure the press would give publicity to her husband's
+disappearance, and there was no doubt, if the paragraphs in the papers
+came to Mr. Boyd's notice, that he would write and tell her what he
+knows of the movements of his late clerk. Compassion was aroused by
+the evident ill health of the child, who appears to be suffering from
+bronchial trouble, and whose efforts to restrain herself from
+coughing, in order that the court should not be disturbed, were very
+pitiable. The magistrate awarded the poor woman ten shillings from the
+poor box, and she left the court in the deepest distress, her little
+girl clinging to her gown.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick was surprised not to see his uncle in court. Inspector Robson had
+promised to be present, and it was seldom that he broke a promise.
+Ascribing his absence to official duties elsewhere, Dick parted with
+Mrs. Death at the police court door, and promising to call and see her
+next day, he wrote his paragraph for &quot;The Little Busy Bee,&quot; and
+leaving it at the office, went to Paradise Row to secure the room
+which Mrs. Pond had to let.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was that little woman's washing day, and, like the maid in the
+nursery rhyme, she was hanging up clothes in her back yard. Hearing
+the knock she hurried to the door, with her sleeves tucked up to her
+shoulder, and wiping her hands on a towel. She wore an apron with a
+bib, and tucked in the bib was the lady's handkerchief which Constable
+Pond had picked up the previous night. She had been about to plunge it
+into the washtub when she heard the knock, and she had hastily slipped
+it in there as she hurried to the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Constable Applebee tells me you have a room to let,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, we have, sir,&quot; replied Mrs. Pond, her rosy face, which was of
+the apple-dumpling order, glowing with delight, &quot;and very good it is
+of him to recommend us. I hope you won't mind the state I'm in. I'm
+doing the washing.&quot; She said this very simply; there was no false
+pride about Mrs. Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shall ask you to do mine,&quot; said Dick, &quot;if the room suits me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shouldn't mind, sir. I'll show you the room if you'll be good
+enough to follow me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She preceded him up the narrow flight of stairs, and opened the door.
+It was a small room, but it was clean and tidy, and sufficiently
+furnished for Dick's requirements.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The rent?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would three-and-six a week be too much, sir?&quot; she asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not a bit,&quot; replied Dick, &quot;if you'll give me a latchkey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We can do that, sir. Pond had an extra one made on purpose. 'If it's
+a gentleman,' he said, 'let him have it. If it's a lady she can't have
+a latchkey, no, not if she begged for it on her bended knees.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll take the room, Mrs. Pond,&quot; said Dick, with a genial smile, &quot;and
+I'll give you a week's rent in advance, if it's only for the
+confidence you place in me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nervously plucking at her bib as she received the money, she displaced
+the handkerchief, which fluttered to the ground. Dick stooped to pick
+it up, and his face grew white as he saw, written in marking ink in a
+corner, the name of &quot;Florence.&quot; He recognised Florence's writing; at
+that moment he had one at his breast, bearing the same inscription.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">Dear</span> me, sir!&quot; said Mrs. Pond, who had noticed that he had turned
+pale. &quot;Are you taken ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is nothing, nothing,&quot; replied Dick, hurriedly, and contradicted
+himself by adding, &quot;It must be the perfume on this handkerchief. There
+are perfumes that make me feel faint.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't think there's any scent on it, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Pond,
+&quot;leastways, I didn't notice any. Some scents do have that effect upon
+people. There's a cousin of mine who faints dead away at the smell of
+a hot boiled egg. There's no accounting for things, is there, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, there's not. May I ask if you got this handkerchief from the lady
+whose name is marked on it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, sir. Pond gave it me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did <i>he</i> obtain it from the lady?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There!&quot; exclaimed Mrs. Pond. &quot;That's just what I said to him. We had
+a regular scene. 'You're jealous, Polly,' he said, laughing, and he
+worked me up so that I as good as threw it in the fire. Then he told
+me that he knew no more about the lady than I did, and that he picked
+it up in the street.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whereabouts, Mrs. Pond?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He didn't say, sir. It's pretty, ain't it? Quite a lady's. I
+shouldn't have minded if he'd picked up a dozen of 'em. I've got an
+aunt who is always picking up things. It commenced when she was a
+little girl. She found a farthing that had been sanded over, and
+thinking it was a golden sovereign she went into a milk-shop and asked
+for change. She cried her eyes out when they told her what it was,
+There's hardly a week she don't find something. Some people are made
+that way, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes,&quot; said Dick, rather impatiently, &quot;is your husband in the
+house? I should like to see him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I expect him home every minute, sir. Why, there he is, opening the
+street door just as we're talking of him. If you'll excuse me, sir,
+I'll run down to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do. And ask him to be kind enough to come up and speak to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nodded, and ran from the room with a light step, leaving the
+handkerchief behind her in her haste to tell her husband that she had
+got a lodger; and presently Constable Pond's heavier step was heard on
+the stairs. His face beamed with satisfaction when Dick, stepping into
+the passage, invited him into the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can I believe my eyes, sir!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;This is what I call a
+downright piece of good luck. Well, I <i>am</i> glad to see you here, sir!&quot;
+His eyes fell upon the handkerchief in Dick's hand. &quot;If I don't
+mistake, that's the handkerchief my missis left behind her. She asked
+me to fetch it down to her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is about this handkerchief I wish to speak to you,&quot; said Dick;
+&quot;and for the sake of all parties, Constable Pond, it is as well that
+our conversation should be private and confidential.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, sir,&quot; said Constable Pond, his countenance falling at the
+unusual gravity of Dick's voice and manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She told me you picked it up in the street.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She told you true, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now did Constable Pond feel the sting of conscience; now did it
+whisper that he had been guilty of a breach of duty in not depositing
+the handkerchief at the police station, with an account of how he came
+by it; now did the thought of certain penalties afflict him. Here was
+Dick Remington, Inspector Robson's own nephew, opening up a case with
+the unuttered words, &quot;From information received.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have a particular reason for wishing to know where, and when, and
+under what circumstances, you found it,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It won't go beyond this room, I hope, sir. You won't use the
+information against me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I give you my word I will not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I ought to have handed it in and made my report,&quot; said Constable
+Pond, with a rueful air, &quot;but I didn't think there was any harm in my
+giving it to the missis. Applebee and me were in Catchpole Square last
+night, and he was talking of shadders when he thought he saw one. He
+run across and caught hold of it, but it slipped from him and was gone
+like a flash. He called to me and we ran after it through Deadman's
+Court; we couldn't see which way we were going, so we knocked our
+heads together, and my helmet fell off. I stooped to pick it up, and
+there was the handkerchief underneath it. If I had considered a moment
+I shouldn't have put it in my pocket, but we don't always do the thing
+we ought.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You did not tell Applebee that you had found anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, I did not, and sorry enough I am for it now. It sha'n't
+occur again, I promise you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As the matter has gone so far without anybody knowing anything about
+it but ourselves, I don't see the necessity of mentioning it to
+anyone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If such is your wish, sir,&quot; said Constable Pond, gaining confidence,
+&quot;it sha'n't be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And tell your wife not to speak about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll tell her, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because you see, Mr. Pond, as it is too late to undo what's done, it
+might get you into trouble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see that, sir,&quot; said Constable Pond, ruefully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So there's an end of the matter. As for the handkerchief I'll take
+possession of it, and if it should happen that any question is raised
+concerning it--of which there is not the least probability--I will say
+that <i>I</i> found it. That will clear you entirely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm ever so much obliged to you for getting me out of the mess,&quot; said
+Constable Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Shaking hands with him, Dick accompanied him downstairs, and after
+receiving the latchkey and exchanging a few pleasant words with Mrs.
+Pond, he left the house greatly troubled in his mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's more in this than meets the eye, Polly,&quot; said Constable Pond,
+when he had explained to her what had passed between him and Dick.
+&quot;That young fellow spoke fair and square, but he's got something up
+his sleeve, for all that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you silly!&quot; answered Mrs. Pond. &quot;<i>I</i> know what he's got up his
+sleeve.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you, now?&quot; said Constable Pond, refreshing himself with a kiss.
+&quot;Well, if that don't beat everything! Give it a name, old girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, a sweetheart, you goose, and her name's Florence. He's going
+straight to her this minute.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he? Then I hope she'll be able to satisfy him why she was in
+Catchpole Square last night--always supposing that it was her as
+dropped the handkerchief there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Pond was not far wrong, for Dick was now on his way to Aunt Rob's
+house, in the hope of seeing Florence, over whom some trouble seemed
+to be hanging. He tried in vain to rid himself of the belief that it
+was Florence whom Constable Applebee had surprised in Catchpole
+Square; all the probabilities pointed that way. In heaven's name what
+took her there at that hour of the night? Search his mind as he might,
+he could find no answer to the question. The handkerchief was hers,
+but there were a hundred ways of accounting for its being in the
+possession of another woman. Still, the longer he thought the heavier
+seemed to grow the weight of circumstantial evidence. Fearing he knew
+not what he accelerated his steps, as if swiftness of motion would
+ward off the mysterious danger which threatened the woman he adored,
+the woman who could never be his, but for whose dear sake he would
+have shed his heart's blood.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob, a healthy, homely woman of forty-five, was standing at the
+door of her house, looking up and down the street for the form of one
+she loved, looking up to heaven for a message to ease her bruised
+heart. A terrible blow had fallen upon her home, and the grief, the
+fear, the tortured love in her eyes, were pitiable to see. Before Dick
+was near enough to observe these signs of distress she had caught
+sight of him and was running towards him, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick, Dick!&quot; she cried. &quot;You have come to tell us about Florence!
+Where is she? What message has she sent? Is she safe, is she well? Why
+don't you speak? Can't you see that I'm heartbroken, heartbroken? For
+God's sake, speak!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In truth he could not. The overwhelming terror and surprise that fell
+upon him deprived him for a time of the power of speech; he could do
+nothing but stare at her in dismay and alarm. When speech was restored
+to him he said, in a voice as agitated as her own.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know what you mean, Aunt Rob. I have brought no message from
+Florence. I came to see her.&quot; Involuntarily his hand wandered to his
+breast, where Florence's handkerchief lay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are deceiving me,&quot; she said, her limbs trembling, her face
+convulsed; &quot;you are punishing me because I said it was time you looked
+after yourself! Perhaps I was as unhappy as you were when you left the
+house. If you had been a little more patient with me you would never
+have gone away.&quot; She turned from him, her body shaking with grief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Aunt Rob,&quot; he said, passing his arm around her, &quot;indeed, indeed
+there is no thought in my mind that is not charged with love for you
+and Uncle Rob and Florence. I would lay down my life for you. I see
+that something terrible has occurred. What is it--where is Florence?
+But, no, don't answer me in the street. Come inside--come, come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His heart beat fast and loud as he led the sobbing woman into the
+house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't shut the door, Dick,&quot; she sobbed. &quot;It shall never be said that
+I shut my door against my child. Day and night it shall be open to her
+if she comes back as she went away, a good and innocent girl. But if
+she comes back with the loss of her good name---- Oh, my God! What am
+I saying--what am I saying?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; said Dick, in a tone of stern reproof, &quot;what are you saying,
+indeed, Aunt Rob, when you couple Florence's name with thoughts like
+those? You, her mother, who have had daily proofs of her purity and
+goodness! My life upon her innocence--my life, my life! Though all the
+world were against her I would stand by her side, and strike down
+those who dared defame her. For shame, Aunt Rob, for shame!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick, you comfort me--you comfort me!&quot; She took his hand, and
+kissed it, and he bent forward and kissed her lips. &quot;I would not have
+said it, but I am torn this way and that with doubt and despair. It's
+the suspense, Dick, the suspense! Oh, Florence, Florence, the best,
+the sweetest, the dearest! Where are you, my dear, where are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Attend to me, Aunt Rob,&quot; said Dick, holding himself in control in
+order that he might the better control her. &quot;You must not go on like
+this--you must calm yourself--for Florence's sake, for your own and
+Uncle Rob's. If I am to be of any assistance--and I am here for that
+purpose, heart and hand--I must know what has happened. Try and be
+calm and strong, as you have always been, and we shall be able to work
+our way through this trouble--yes, we shall. That's right--dry your
+eyes&quot;----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have been unkind to you, Dick,&quot; she said, with an imploring look at
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have never been unkind--to me or to anyone. It isn't in your
+nature. Whatever happens to me I've brought upon myself and I'm going
+to reform and become a pattern to all young fellows who want to be
+Good (with a capital G, please, Aunt Rob) and don't exactly know how
+to set about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'd put heart in a stone, Dick,&quot; said Aunt Rob, checking her sobs.
+&quot;Let me be a minute, and I shall be all right.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The room in which they were conversing looked out upon the street, and
+turning his back upon his aunt while she was battling with her grief,
+he peered this way and that, as she had done, and listened for the
+sound of a familiar footstep in the passage. He raised up a picture of
+Florence running suddenly in, laughing, with her hair tumbling over
+her shoulders, as he had often seen it, and throwing her arms round
+her mother's neck, crying, &quot;Why, what is all this fuss about? Can't a
+girl go out for a walk without turning the house upside down? Oh, you
+foolish people!&quot; And then throwing her arms round <i>his</i> neck in her
+sisterly way, and asking, in pretended anger, what he meant by looking
+as serious as if the world was coming to an end? He could almost hear
+her voice. The room was filled with little mementoes of her, dumb
+memorials with a living spirit in them. There was a framed picture of
+her on the wall, a lovely face, bright and open, brown eyes in which
+dwelt the spirit of truth, dark brown hair with a wilful tendency to
+tumble down and kiss the fair neck--(the most distracting, teasing,
+bewitching hair; in short, Florence's hair)--smiling mouth in which
+there was innocent gaiety, but no sign of weakness; the typical face
+of a young girl of an ingenuous, trustful nature. A close observer
+would have detected in it an underlying earnestness, indicating
+tenacity and firmness of purpose where those qualities were required,
+and would have judged her one who would go straight to her duty and
+brave the consequences, whatever they might be. Gazing at that
+embodiment of happy, healthy springtime Dick said inly, &quot;Florence do
+anything that is not sweet, and pure, and womanly! I would not believe
+it if an angel from heaven came down and told me!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob turned to him, calmer and more composed. &quot;Tears have done me
+good, Dick,&quot; she said. &quot;It would ease a man's heart if he could cry as
+we can.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We feel as much, Aunt Rob,&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't doubt it, Dick. Uncle Rob went away with dry eyes in a state
+of distraction; he is flying everywhere in search of Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has gone?&quot; His voice was strange in his ears. Prepared as he was
+for the news it came as a shock upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She has gone,&quot; said Aunt Rob, covering her face with her hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't give way again, aunt. Pull yourself together, and tell me all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will, Dick, as much as I know. You haven't been in the house for a
+fortnight, or you would have noticed that Florence was changed. She
+seldom smiled, she neither played nor sang, her step had lost its
+lightness. She wouldn't let me do anything for her, and I settled it
+in my mind that it was a lover's quarrel. I <i>must</i> speak about Mr.
+Reginald, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, aunt, go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We had seen for some time that they were fond of each other. There
+was no regular engagement; it hadn't come to that, but we were young
+ourselves once, and we knew the ways of young people. So we made Mr.
+Reginald welcome, and we saw how happy Florence was to have him with
+us. It was on the tip of my tongue more than once to ask him to tell
+us more about himself than we knew, but Uncle Rob stopped me. 'All in
+good time,' he said, 'a few months, or even a year or two, won't make
+much difference. I'm not in a hurry to get rid of Florence.' More was
+I, but I was beginning to wish that things were settled, whether it
+was to be a long engagement or a short one. There was a change in Mr.
+Reginald, too, I couldn't tell in what way, but there it was in his
+face. He came and dined with us Sunday week, and since then I haven't
+set eyes on him. You know what last night was--the most dreadful fog
+we have had for years. It was at about five o'clock that I saw
+Florence with her hat and mantle on. 'Why, child,' I said to her, 'you
+are never going out in this thick fog!' 'Yes, I am, mother,' she
+answered. 'Don't fear that I shall be lost; I'll soon be back.' She
+was as good as her word, for she was home again before Uncle Rob went
+to the Station, and the three of us had tea together. She helped him
+on with his coat, and I recollected afterwards how she kissed and
+clung to him when he wished her good night. It was in her mind then to
+run away. At eight o'clock there was a knock at the street door, and
+Florence ran out to answer it. She often did so when she expected a
+letter from Mr. Reginald. She kept in the passage a little while and I
+heard the rustling of paper, but she had nothing in her hand when she
+returned to the room. Her face was very white, and she said she had a
+headache, and would go to bed early. I asked her if she had received a
+letter, and she answered, yes, she had, and said, 'Don't ask me any
+questions about it, please, mother.' 'Do answer me only one,' I
+begged. 'Have you and Mr. Reginald quarrelled?' 'Oh, no,' she
+answered, and I knew she was speaking the truth, or she wouldn't have
+answered at all. She was very gentle and quiet, and I thought to
+myself, 'Oh, my dear, my dear, why don't you confide in your mother
+who loves the ground you tread on?' But <i>you</i> know what Florence is,
+Dick. She takes after me in a good many ways. Nothing will make me
+speak if I make up my mind not to, and it's the same with her. See,
+now, how we put our own faults into our children. So we sat at the
+fireside, and I felt as if there was a wall between us. She had some
+sewing in her lap, but not a stitch did she do. There she sat, staring
+into the fire. Ah, I thought, if I could see what you see I should
+know! Suddenly she knelt down and laid her head in my lap, and it was
+as much as I could do to keep back my tears. I could have cried
+easily, but I knew that my dear was in trouble, and that my crying
+would make it worse. Presently she raised her head and said, 'Mother,
+you love father very much.' 'With all my heart, darling,' I answered.
+'And you have always loved him,' she said again, 'and would have
+endured anything for him?' My heart fell as I said that I had always
+loved him, and would do anything in the world for him. She was quiet a
+few minutes, and then she said, 'You mustn't think I have done
+anything wrong, mother.' 'I don't, my dear child, I don't,' I said.
+'It is only,' she said, 'that sometimes we are pulling two ways at
+once.' Then she rose, and sitting by my side, laid her head upon my
+breast. I was nursing my baby again, and would you believe it? I sang
+an old nursery song and kissed and kissed her, and smoothed her
+beautiful hair, and we sat so for quite half an hour almost in
+silence. It was striking nine when she said she would go to bed, and
+as I didn't feel inclined to sit up alone I went to bed, too. We have
+been to bed much earlier, Dick, since you went away. Soon after nine
+all the lights were out and the house was quiet. In the middle of the
+night I woke and went to her room, and called softly, 'Florence!
+Florence!' She didn't answer me, and I was glad to think she was
+asleep. She always keeps her bedroom door locked, or I would have gone
+in. I get up earlier than she does, and I was down before eight; and
+there on the mantelshelf was an envelope addressed, 'For Mother,' in
+Florence's handwriting. There was a key inside, and my heart beat so
+that I thought it would jump out of my body as I flew upstairs and
+opened the door with it. Florence was not in the room, and her bed had
+not been slept in. But on the dressing table, was another envelope
+addressed to me. I tore it open, and this is what I found inside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She handed a sheet of notepaper to Dick, and he read:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">Darling Mother and Father</span>,--I have gone away for a little while
+because it is my duty to go. Do not be uneasy or unhappy about me. I
+am quite safe, and very soon--as soon as ever I can--I will let you
+know where I am, and what it is that took me away. It grieves me
+sorely to give you a moment's pain, but I am doing what I believe is
+right. With a heart full of love for you both, my dear, dear Mother
+and Father,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:15%">&quot;Your Ever Loving and Devoted Daughter,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:50%">&quot;<span class="sc">Florence.</span>&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you make of it, Dick?&quot; asked Aunt Rob, her fingers twining
+convulsively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I make so much good out of it,&quot; he replied, handing the letter back
+to her, &quot;that I wonder at your going on in the way you've done. She
+says she is quite safe, and will let you know soon what took her away.
+What more do you want to convince you that before long the mystery
+will be cleared up? Upon my word, I've a good mind to be downright
+angry with you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He spoke with so much confidence that she brightened up, but this
+cheerful view of Florence's flight from home was not the genuine
+outcome of his thoughts. Had he not disguised his feelings in his
+desire to comfort Aunt Rob, he would have struck terror to her heart.
+Every incident that presented itself deepened the shadows which
+threatened Florence's safety and the peace and happiness of the home
+of which she was the pride and joy. The latest discovery, that of her
+flight, pointed almost to the certainty of her having been in
+Catchpole Square last night, and to her having dropped the
+handkerchief which Constable Pond had given to his wife. Thankful
+indeed, was Dick that the man had been guilty of a breach of duty. Had
+he delivered up the handkerchief at the Bishop Street Police Station,
+with an account of how he came by it, Florence's father would have
+recognised it as belonging to his daughter, and he would have had an
+agonising duty before him. Perplexed and bewildered as Dick was by
+these developments he succeeded in concealing his anxiety from Aunt
+Rob's observation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any idea, Dick, what she means when she speaks of her duty?&quot;
+she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None whatever,&quot; he replied. &quot;Can you give me Mr. Reginald's address?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I never heard where he lived, and never asked him. He has written
+Florence a good many letters, and now and then she has read me a bit
+out of them, but she never gave me one to read outright myself. She
+has left her desk behind her. Would I be justified in breaking it
+open?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you would not. It would be showing a sad want of confidence in
+her. At what time do you expect uncle home?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't say with certainty. He may come in at any minute, or he
+mightn't come home till late. He's hunting high and low for Florence,
+and there's no knowing where he may be. He's got leave for a day's
+absence from the office. You're not going, Dick?&quot; For Dick had put on
+his hat, and was buttoning up his coat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must. I've a lot of business to attend to, and I've an idea of a
+clue which may lead to something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'll be back as soon as you can, won't you? Your room is all
+ready.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'I know. Uncle Rob told me. But I can't come back to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick, haven't you forgiven me for the hard words I said to you?
+Don't harbour animosity, lad, don't! My temper got the better of
+me----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear Aunt Rob,&quot; said Dick, interrupting her, &quot;no son could love a
+mother more than I love you. If I were base enough to harbour
+animosity towards you or yours I shouldn't deserve to live. There's
+the postman's knock!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They both ran out for the letter. &quot;It's from Florence--from
+Florence!&quot; cried Aunt Rob.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">My Darling Mother and Father</span>&quot; (Florence wrote)--&quot;I am writing a
+hurried line to relieve your anxiety, only to let you know that I am
+safe and well, and that I will write again to-morrow. When you know
+all I am sure you will forgive me. Never forget, dear Mother, what I
+said to you last night, that I have done nothing wrong. God bless you
+both. With my dearest, fondest love,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:15%">&quot;Ever your faithful and affectionate daughter,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:65%">&quot;<span class="sc">Florence.</span>&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you see Dick, give him my love, and tell him all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That ought to satisfy you, Aunt Rob,&quot; said Dick. &quot;She is safe, she is
+well. My love to Uncle Rob.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kissed her, waved his hand, and was gone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The fog had entirely disappeared, and the contrast between the weather
+of yesterday and that of to-day struck him as no less marked than the
+contrast between himself of yesterday and himself of to-day. Yesterday
+he was one of the idlest of young fellows, lounging about with his
+hands in his pockets, with no work to do, and no prospect of any.
+To-day the hours were not long enough for the work he had to perform.
+As there are sluggish horses which need but the whip to make them go
+like steam, so there are men who cannot work without a strong
+incentive. Dick was of this order, and the incentive which had
+presented itself was in its nature so stirring as to bring into play
+all his mental and physical resources. Thus spurred on, you might have
+searched London through without meeting his match.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The immediate object he had in view was to gain an entrance into the
+house of Samuel Boyd, and this must be done to-night. Whatever
+discoveries he made there, or if he made none, the ground would to
+some extent be cleared. To accomplish his purpose he required a rope,
+with a grapnel at the end of it, strong enough to bear a man's weight.
+His funds were low. Of the sovereign Uncle Rob had given him, 3s. 6d.
+had gone for a week's rent, and 2s. for food; he had 14s. 6d. left.
+Knowing that there was a chance of picking up in some second-hand shop
+a rope and grapnel for half the money which they would cost new, he
+turned down the meanest streets, where humble dealers strove to eke
+out a living. He passed a wardrobe shop in which male and female
+attire of the lowest kind was exposed for sale; a rag and bone shop,
+stuffed with articles fit for the dunghill, and over the door of which
+an Aunt Sally in a perpetual slate of strangulation was spinning round
+and round to the tune of a March wind; a fried fish shop through the
+window of which he saw a frowzy, perspiring woman frying penny pieces
+(heads), three halfpenny pieces (tails), and two penny pieces
+(middles); more wardrobe shops, more fried fish shops, more rag and
+bone shops, with black dolls spinning and strangling. In one of these
+he chanced upon the very thing he needed, and after a heated
+discussion with a dirty-faced old man in list slippers and a greasy
+skull cap, he issued from the fetid air within to the scarcely less
+fetid air without, with the rope and grapnel wrapped in the torn copy
+of an evening paper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Congratulating himself on his purchase he hurried along, and
+finding himself no farther than half a mile from Draper's Mews, he
+determined--having an hour or two to spare--to go to No. 7, where poor
+little Gracie and her mother resided, for the purpose of ascertaining
+whether anything had been discovered relating to the disappearance of
+Abel Death.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Had Dick timed his visit to Draper's Mews a couple of hours earlier he
+would have had a second instance in one day of female hands at the
+wash-tub--in this case not a wash-tub but a cracked and leaky basin,
+from the sides of which the soapy water dripped upon a very thin pair
+of female legs. In the second instance it would not have been a woman
+whom he would have seen, but a child--none other than little Gracie,
+who, with all the importance of budding washerwoman thick upon her
+(although, humanly speaking, her prospects of arriving at that stage
+of distinction appeared to be remote) was washing her brothers' and
+sisters' clothes. The garments were few and in woeful condition, the
+brothers and sisters were many, more or less in a state of nudity.
+There were Eddie, nine years of age, Bertie, eight, Nellie, six,
+Connie, five, Louie, three, Geordie, eighteen months. Six children,
+who, with Gracie, the eldest, comprised the young shoots of the
+genealogical tree belonging to the family of the Deaths. Their home
+comprised two small rooms, with holes in the wall that divided them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All the children, with the exception of Gracie, were in bed, huddling
+together for warmth, and waiting for the drying of their clothes,
+which Gracie hung upon a line stretching from wall to wall, after
+wringing them out. The youngsters were not unhappy; the ten shillings
+from the poor box which the benevolent magistrate had given to Mrs.
+Death dropped upon her like manna from heaven. On their way home she
+and Gracie had spent fifteen pence, and the children had had a full
+meal. What cause for unhappiness when their little stomachs were
+filled? That is the test stone. Think of it, comfortable ones of the
+earth. Fifteen pence to make seven children happy!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie alone recognised what was meant by the disappearance of their
+father, the breadwinner, their father with his anxious face and
+threadbare clothes. The other children could not understand. It was
+merciful. Father had gone away; he would come back again with a little
+paper bag of brandy balls for them to suck. Abel Death was fond of his
+children, and once a week he gave them this treat. How they looked
+forward to it--how they watched for his coming--how their faces would
+light up when he pulled the bag out of his pocket! Brandy balls are an
+economical sweet; there is a magic in the very name. Brandy balls!
+They are hard, not to say stony, and if they are sucked fair they last
+a long time. Eddie once bolted one whole. He never forgot it; the
+taste of the physic he was made to swallow, the shaking and the
+slapping, made him very repentant; but he thought of it ever
+afterwards with a fearful joy, as of one who had performed a rash and
+daring deed, and came out of it alive. Sometimes the children were in
+rivalry as to which brandy ball would last the longest. Sad to relate,
+the exultation of the victor made the others cry. The way of
+conquerors is always watered with tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On this afternoon Gracie was the mistress of the house. Mrs. Death had
+heard of a half day's washing-up of plates and dishes at a German club
+in the neighbourhood where a festival was being held; and she dared
+not neglect the opportunity of earning ninepence. She left careful
+instructions that if father <i>should</i> happen to come back during her
+absence Gracie was to run like lightning to the club and fetch her
+home. She had no hope of it, but she had read of miracles in the
+Bible.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the child stood at the wash-tub, soaping poor little petticoats and
+stockings with zeal and diligence, holding each garment up to the
+light and criticising its condition with the eye of an expert. Now and
+then she shook her head, as though in answer to a question whether
+this or that tattered article of clothing could be mended; and, the
+point being settled, plunged it into the wash-tub again for an extra
+soaping to make up for tatters. And the marvellous patience with which
+she pursued her task, the absence of anything in the shape of
+rebellion or protest that she, so young in years, should be set to it!
+If ever suffering mortal deserved a medal for duty done in the teeth
+of adverse circumstance, against odds so terrible that the coldest
+heart must have been moved to pity to witness it, Gracie surely had
+earned it. But there is no established order on earth for the bestowal
+of honours in such a cause. Crosses and broad ribbons and sparkling
+stars are for deeds far different from the devoted heroism she
+displayed. But a record is kept in Heaven, Gracie, and angels are
+looking down upon you. How astonished would she have been to know it!
+She suffered--ah, how she suffered! Every few minutes she was
+compelled to stop and fight the demon in her chest that scraped and
+scraped her brittle bones with fiendish cruelty--tearing at her,
+choking her, robbing her of breath, while she stamped her feet and
+beat her hands together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I say! Gracie's going it,&quot; observed Bertie, the low comedian and
+mimic of the family, and as is the case with better known low
+comedians when they give utterance to nothing particularly witty, the
+young audience began to laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Show us, Bertie,&quot; they cried. &quot;Do it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Whereupon, with his own vocal organs, Bertie reproduced Gracie's
+racking cough. The other children attempted the imitation, but none
+with success, and he accompanied the cough, moreover, with such an
+expression of woe upon his face, that the children were lost in
+admiration. Spurred to greater efforts by their approval he wound up
+with so faithful a reproduction of Gracie in the last exhausting stage
+of a paroxysm that it brought down the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that like it, Gracie?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she answered, with unmoved face, &quot;that's like it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One of the children, burning with envy at her brother's histrionic
+triumph, expressed her feelings with her legs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Connie's kicking me, Gracie,&quot; cried Bertie, at the same time
+returning the kicks beneath the bedclothes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you don't leave off,&quot; said Gracie, impassively, &quot;I'll come and
+slap you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had to be very careful with the children's underclothing. So full
+of holes and rents were they that the least violence would have
+wrought irremediable havoc among them--and where was mother to get the
+money from to buy new ones?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There,&quot; she said, hanging the last garment on the line, and wiping
+her hands and arms on her wet apron, &quot;that job's done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The children raised a cheer, and simultaneously sat up in bed in a
+state of eager expectation. Six little heads nestling close, six eager
+faces turned towards Gracie. They had not a clear view of her, because
+night was coming on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wait a bit,&quot; she said, &quot;we must have a light, and I must make up the
+fire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a very small fire, the capacity of the stove being
+circumscribed by a large brick on either side, placed there for the
+sake of economy. Gracie put on half a dozen little pieces of coal with
+miser-like care, taking as much pains to arrange them as if they were
+precious stones, as indeed they were. A tiny flame shot out and shone
+upon her face; with her black eyes and black hair she looked like a
+goblin beneath this fitful illumination. Then she rose and lighted a
+tallow candle, placing it on a deal table, which she drew close to the
+bed. The table was bare of covering, and presented a bald white space,
+Gracie having given it a good scrubbing before she commenced her
+washing. Seating herself on a wooden chair she took from a drawer some
+broken ends of chalk of different colours, yellow, green, and
+vermilion being the predominant hues. The excitement of the children
+grew to fever height.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie had a gift which comes by nature. She was magnetic, and could
+tell a story in such a manner as to absorb the attention of her
+hearers. It is true that she only told stories to her brothers and
+sisters, who might have been considered a partial audience, but that
+she was capable of taking their imaginations captive and leading them
+in any direction she pleased--through gilded hall or dismal dungeon,
+through enchanted forest or dark morass--may be accepted as a token
+that, grown to womanhood and appealing to a more experienced audience,
+her success would be no less complete. To look at that apparently
+insensible face and at that coal black eye, unillumined by the fire of
+fancy, and to listen to that listless voice when she discoursed upon
+mundane affairs, no one would have imagined that it was in her power
+to rivet the attention, to fascinate and absorb. It is, however, just
+those faces which go towards the making of a great actor. A blank
+space waiting to be written upon, ready for the kindling of the spark
+which unlocks the gates of imagination and lays all the world of fancy
+open to the view. Then do merry elves peep out from beds of flowers,
+and fairy forms dance in the light of moon and stars; then do
+enchanted castles gleam in the eye of the sun, and gloomy caverns open
+wide their jaws and breathe destruction on all who venture within
+their shadowed walls.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Many such romances had Gracie told the children, with appropriate
+pictorial illustration in colours, but she came down to earth
+occasionally, and condescended to use materials more modern; but even
+these familiar subjects were decorated with flowers of quaint fancy
+and invested by her with captivating charm. Sometimes she mingled the
+two together, and produced the oddest effects.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The secret of the coloured chalks was this. Not long ago there lived
+in the house an artist who strove to earn a living by painting on the
+pavements of the city the impossible salmon and the equally impossible
+sunset. But though he used the most lurid colours he did not find
+himself appreciated, and, taking a liking to Gracie, he poured into
+her ears tales of disappointed ambition and unrecognised genius, to
+which she listened with sympathetic soul. Emulous of his gifts she
+coaxed him into giving her a few lessons, and in a short time could
+also paint the impossible salmon and the equally impossible sunset.
+One day he said, &quot;Gracie, I am leaving this wretched country, which is
+not a country for artists. I bequeath to you my genius and my stock of
+coloured chalks. But do not deceive yourself; they will bring you only
+disappointment, and do not blame me if you die unhonoured, and unwept,
+and unsung.&quot; With these despairing words he bade her an affectionate,
+if gloomy, farewell. Gracie did not share his despair, and had little
+understanding of the words in which it was expressed. The legacy was a
+God-send to her and to the children whom she would enthral with her
+flights of imagination, with coloured illustrations on the deal table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She related to them now some weird tale of a beautiful young
+princess--(behold the beautiful young princess, with vermilion lips
+and cheeks, green eyes starting out of her head, and yellow hair
+trailing to her heels)--and a gallant young prince--(behold the
+gallant young prince, with vermilion lips and cheeks, staring green
+eyes, and yellow hair carefully parted in the middle)--mounted on a
+fiery steed--(behold the fiery steed, its legs very wide apart, also
+with green eyes, vermilion nostrils, and a long yellow tail)--who,
+with certain wicked personages, went through astounding adventures,
+which doubtless would all have come right in the end had Gracie not
+been seized with a fit of coughing so violent that she fell back in
+her chair, spasmodically catching and fighting for her breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two persons mounted the stairs at this crisis, a man and a woman, and
+both hastened their steps at these sounds of distress. Mrs. Death
+flung the door open and hastened to Gracie's side not noticing Dick,
+who followed her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear child--my dear child!&quot; said Mrs. Death, taking her clammy
+hand and holding the exhausted girl in her motherly arms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm all right, mother,&quot; gasped Gracie, presently, regaining her
+breath. &quot;Don't you worry about me. There--I'm better already!&quot; She was
+the first to see Dick, and she started up. &quot;Mother--look! The
+gentleman from the police station! Have you found father, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon for intruding,&quot; said Dick to the woman. &quot;I came to
+speak to you, and when I was wondering which part of the house you
+lived in I heard your little girl coughing, and I followed you
+upstairs.&quot; He gazed in amazement at the astonishing pictures on the
+table. &quot;Did Gracie draw these?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Six little heads popped up from the bed, and six young voices piped,
+&quot;Yes, she did. Ain't she clever? And she was telling us such a
+beautiful story!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be quiet, children,&quot; said Mrs. Death; and turning anxiously to Dick,
+&quot;Have you any news of my husband, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry to say I have not,&quot; he replied; &quot;but your visit to the
+magistrate is in the papers, and good is sure to come of it. Have you
+got a teaspoon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a pitying remembrance of Gracie's cough he had purchased a bottle
+of syrup of squills, a teaspoonful of which he administered to the
+child, who looked up into his face with gratitude in her soul if not
+in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's nice and warm,&quot; she said, rubbing her chest. &quot;It goes right to
+the spot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let her take it from time to time,&quot; said Dick to Mrs. Death. &quot;I will
+bring another bottle in a day or two. Now can I have a few words with
+you about your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, if you'll step into the next room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I like brandy balls,&quot; cried Connie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So do I--so do I!&quot; in a clamour of voices from the other children.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And so do I,&quot; said Dick. &quot;You shall have some.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hush, children!&quot; said Mrs. Death. &quot;I'm ashamed of you! I hope you'll
+excuse them, sir. Keep them quiet, Gracie, while the gentleman and I
+are talking. It doesn't do, sir,&quot;--this in a low tone to Dick as he
+followed her into the adjoining room--&quot;to speak too freely before
+children about trouble. It will come quickly enough to them, poor
+things!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick nodded. &quot;I wish you to believe, Mrs. Death, that I earnestly
+desire to help you out of your trouble, and that I may be of more
+assistance to you than most people. I say this to satisfy you that I
+am not here out of mere idle curiosity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am sure you are not, sir, and I'm ever so much obliged to you for
+the kindness you've shown. The syrup of squills has done Gracie a lot
+of good already; but I don't see how you can help us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It may be in my power, if you will give me your confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'd be sorry to throw away a chance, sir. What is it you want to
+know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I want you to tell me the reason why Mr. Samuel Boyd discharged your
+husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's not much to tell, sir. Where shall I commence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On Friday morning, when your husband went to the office: and don't
+keep anything back that comes to your mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I won't, sir. He went away as usual, and it was our belief that he
+had given Mr. Boyd every satisfaction. I told you at the police
+station how we had hopes that Mr. Boyd would lend us a few pounds to
+get us out of our difficulty with the moneylender. I'm afraid every
+minute of the home being sold over our heads. We've only got a few
+bits of sticks, but we shouldn't know what to do without them. Mr.
+Boyd's a hard master, sir, and regularly every Saturday, when he paid
+my husband his wages, he grumbled that he was being robbed. My poor
+husband worked for him like a slave, and over and over again was kept
+in the office till ten and eleven o'clock at night without getting a
+sixpence overtime. It wasn't a bed of roses, I tell you that, sir;
+nothing but finding fault from morning to night, and he was always on
+the watch to catch my husband in some neglect of duty. On Friday
+afternoon, when he went out of the house on some business or other,
+his orders to my husband were that he was not to stir out of the
+office; if people knocked at the street door let them knock; he wasn't
+to answer them, but to keep himself shut up in the office. Those were
+the orders given, and my husband was careful to obey them. Two or
+three hours after Mr. Boyd was gone there came a knock at the street
+door, and my husband took no notice. The knock was repeated two or
+three times, but still he took no notice. Presently he heard a step on
+the stairs, and he thought it was Mr. Boyd come back, and who had
+knocked at the door to try him. It wasn't Mr. Boyd, sir. The gentleman
+who came into the room was Mr. Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taken by surprise at this unexpected piece of information, Dick cried,
+&quot;Mr. Reginald!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Boyd's son, sir. He and his father had a quarrel a long while
+ago, and Mr. Boyd turned him out of the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But if the street door was not opened to Mr. Reginald, how did he get
+in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He had a latchkey, which he told my husband he had taken with him
+when his father turned him off.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A light seemed to be breaking upon Dick; all this was new to him. &quot;At
+what time did you say Mr. Reginald entered his father's house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It must have been about six o'clock. When he heard that his father
+was not at home he said he would wait; but my husband begged him not
+to, and asked him to go away. He seemed so bent upon seeing his
+father--he used the word 'must,' my husband told me--that it was hard
+to persuade him, but at last he consented, and said he would call
+again at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The light grew stronger, and it was only by an effort that Dick was
+able to suppress his agitation. He recalled the conversation he had
+had with his uncle the previous night at the police station, and the
+remark that towards the elucidation of the mystery there were many
+doors open. Here was another door which seemed to furnish a pregnant
+clue, and it terrified him to think that it might lead to a discovery
+in which all hopes of Florence's happiness would be destroyed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he said, &quot;at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be
+alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then my husband, remembering the caution given him by Mr. Boyd that
+nobody was to be allowed to enter the house during his absence, asked
+the young gentleman not to mention to his father that he had already
+paid one visit to the house. You see, sir, my husband feared that he
+would be blamed for it, and be turned away, as the other clerks had
+been, for Mr. Boyd is of that suspicious nature that he doesn't
+believe a word any man says. The young gentleman gave the promise and
+went away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did Mr. Reginald say why he wanted to see his father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not directly, sir; but my husband gathered that the young gentleman
+had come down in the world, and was in need of money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah! Go on, please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When Mr. Boyd came back he asked if any one had called; my husband
+answered no. 'Then no person has been in the house while I was away?'
+he said, and my husband said no person had been there. Upon that my
+husband was surprised by his being asked to put his office slippers on
+the table, and was still more surprised to see Mr. Boyd examining the
+soles through a magnifying glass. Oh, but he is a cunning gentleman is
+Mr. Samuel Boyd! And when the examination was over he gave my poor
+husband his discharge, without a single word of warning. My husband
+was dumbfounded, and asked what he was being sent away in that manner
+for. Then the hardhearted gentleman said he had set a trap for him;
+that before he left the house he had put on the stairs eight little
+pieces of paper with bits of wax on the top of them, so that any one
+treading on them would be sure to take them up on the soles of his
+boots; and that when he came back six of the eight pieces were gone.
+It was an artful trick, wasn't it, sir? My poor husband did then what
+he ought to have done at first; he confessed the truth, that Mr.
+Reginald <i>had</i> been there. When Mr. Boyd heard that his son had been
+in the house he got into a fearful rage, and said that Mr. Reginald
+and my husband were in a conspiracy to rob him, which, of course, my
+husband denied. He begged Mr. Boyd to take back the discharge, but he
+would not listen to him, and the end of it was that he came home
+brokenhearted. You see our home, sir; wasn't the prospect of not being
+able to earn bread for us enough to break any man's heart?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed it was,&quot; said Dick. &quot;And that is all you can tell me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is all I know, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think you said last night that it was about half-past nine when Mr.
+Death went to Catchpole Square the second time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As near as I can remember, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Within half an hour,&quot; he thought, &quot;of Mr. Reginald's second visit.&quot;
+&quot;Thank you, Mrs. Death,&quot; he said; &quot;you may depend upon my doing my
+best to clear things up, and you shall soon hear from me again. I may
+call upon you without ceremony.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will be always welcome, sir, but it's a poor place for you to
+come to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't live in a palace myself,&quot; he said, with an attempt at gaiety.
+Taking his rope and grapnel, still wrapped in the evening paper, he
+held out his hand to wish her good-night (with the kind thought in his
+mind of sending a doctor to Gracie), when a man's voice was heard in
+the passage, inquiring in a gentle voice whether Mrs. Death lived
+there.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">They went out together to ascertain who it was, and the man repeated
+his question, and observed that it was very dark there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll get a light, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death in an agitated tone. &quot;I hope
+you haven't brought me bad news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; the man answered, &quot;good news I trust you will find it. I have
+come to attend to your little girl, who, I hear, has a bad attack of
+bronchitis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you a doctor, sir?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I am a doctor,&quot; he answered. &quot;Dr. Vinsen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's very good of you, sir, and Gracie is suffering awfully, but I am
+afraid there is some mistake. I didn't send for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now why did you not send for me,&quot; he said, in a tone of gentle
+banter. &quot;In the first place, because you don't know where I live.
+In the second place, because you can't afford to pay me; but that
+will not matter. Why should it? Dear, dear, dear! What is money?
+Dross--nothing more. Never mind the light; I can see very well--very
+well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were now in the room where the children were, who, sitting up in
+bed, stared open-mouthed at the gentleman with his glossy silk hat and
+his yellow kid gloves, and his double gold watchchain hanging across
+his waistcoat. He was a portly gentleman, and when he took off his hat
+he exhibited a bald head, with a yellow fringe of hair round it, like
+a halo. His face was fleshy and of mild expression, his eyes rather
+small and sleepy, and there was, in those features and in his general
+appearance, an air of benevolent prosperity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pictures,&quot; he said, looking at the coloured drawings on the table.
+&quot;Most interesting. And the artist?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My little girl, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death, looking anxiously at him; &quot;she
+does it to amuse the children.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Remarkably clever,&quot; he said. &quot;<i>Re</i>-markably clever. Dear, dear, dear!
+A budding genius--quite a bud-ding ge-nius. But time presses. Allow me
+to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Won't you take a chair, sir?&quot; said Mrs. Death, wiping one with her
+apron, and placing it for him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you. The explanation is as follows--as follows. A friend of
+mine reading in the evening papers an account of your application at
+the Bishop Street Police Court this morning--pray accept my sympathy,
+my dear madam, my sym-pathy--and of the evident illness of the little
+girl who accompanied you, has asked me to call and see if I can do
+anything for you--anything for you.&quot; His habit of repeating his words,
+and of occasionally splitting them into accented syllables, seemed to
+fit in with his gentle voice and his generally benevolent air.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I inquire the name of your kind friend?&quot; asked Mrs. Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly--cer-tainly,&quot; replied Dr. Vinsen. &quot;It is Dr. Pye, of Shore
+Street.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The scientist,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The scientist,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen. &quot;A man of science and a man of
+heart. The two things are not incompatible--not incom-patible. He
+asked me also to ascertain whether you have heard anything of your
+husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard nothing of him, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death, with a sob in her
+throat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sad, sad, sad! But have hope, my dear madam. There is a special
+providence in the fall of a sparrow, and you may depend upon it that
+this special providence is watching over you, and will bring your
+husband back--your husband back.&quot; He turned to Dick. &quot;Related to the
+family, I presume?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Dick, &quot;I am here simply as a friend, to assist Mrs. Death
+in her search for her husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A very worthy endeavour. Would it be considered impertinent if I
+inquired the name of the gentleman who evinces so deep an interest in
+this very distressing matter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My name is Dick Remington. I've grown so accustomed to Dick that I
+should hardly know myself as Richard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen's eyes gave faint indications of amusement--eyes so sleepy
+could do no more than that--and he passed his hands over and over each
+other, as though, like Miss Kilmansegg's father, he was washing them
+with invisible soap in imperceptible water. At this point Gracie, who
+had been trying with all her might and main to hold herself in, burst
+into a furious fit of coughing. &quot;Dear, dear, dear!&quot; said Dr. Vinsen.
+&quot;Let us see what we can do for you, my child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taking a stethoscope out of his hat he proceeded to make an
+examination of Gracie's lungs and chest, a proceeding which Gracie
+viewed with indifference and the other children with awe. In the
+course of his examination he made such comments, under his breath,
+as--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear, dear, dear! Nothing but skin and bone--but skin <i>and</i> bone!
+Sad, very sad! Neglected another week the result would have been--but
+I will not distress you. Wrap yourself up, child. My dear madam, you
+must keep little Gracie--sweet name--in bed for a few days. Doubtless
+you have a bronchitis kettle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death, with a forlorn look.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you worry, mother,&quot; protested Gracie. &quot;I don't want any
+kettles. What's the use of kettles? <i>I'm</i> all right, I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my dear child,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, &quot;allow <i>me</i> to know. You must
+have a linseed poultice on--your mother will see to it--and when I
+come again I will bring you some medicine. Permit me, Mrs. Death--a
+few words in private--a corner of the room will do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They withdrew into a corner, and Dick heard the chink of coin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will call to-morrow,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, the private conference
+ended, &quot;to see how we are getting on--how we are get-ting on. Nay, my
+dear madam--tears!--summon your fortitude, your strength of mind--but
+still, a gratifying tribute--a gra-ti-fy-ing tri-bute.&quot; Hat in hand,
+he shook hands with all in the room, a ceremony attended by
+considerable difficulty in consequence of the shyness of the children,
+but he would not let them off. &quot;Dear, dear, dear! One, two, three,
+four, five, six, and our little Gracie makes seven--really, my dear
+madam, really! Good evening, Mr.--Mr.--dear me, my memory!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick Remington,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To be sure. Mr. Dick Remington. Good evening.&quot; Mrs. Death, candle in
+hand, waited to light him down. &quot;So kind of you, but the passages
+<i>are</i> rather dark.&quot; Those left in the darkened room heard his voice
+dying away in the words, &quot;<i>Are</i> ra-ther dark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Mrs. Death re-entered the room, her face was flushed. Beckoning
+Dick aside she said in an excited tone, &quot;He has given me two
+sovereigns. God bless him! It is like a light shining upon me. If only
+I could find my husband! Children, be good, and you shall have
+something nice for supper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll run and get the linseed for you,&quot; said Dick, &quot;while you put
+Gracie to bed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was soon back, and Mrs. Death met him in the passage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can manage now, sir, thank you,&quot; she said, &quot;but Gracie wants to wish
+you good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie coming to the door with an old blanket round her, he bent down
+and put his lips to her white face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>That's</i> what I wanted,&quot; she whispered, and kissed him. &quot;You're a
+good sort, you are.&quot; He slipped a paper bag into her hand. &quot;What's
+this for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Brandy balls for the young 'uns,&quot; he answered, and scudded away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, you <i>are</i> a one!&quot; she shouted hoarsely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God bless you, Gracie!&quot; he shouted back.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a windfall for Mrs. Death,&quot; he muttered when he was clear of
+Draper's Mews, &quot;and may be the saving of Gracie. Dear little mite!
+Almost a skeleton, and the heart of a lion. Learn a lesson from her,
+Dick, and meet your own troubles like a man, and do your work, my lad,
+like one. It's brutal to be ungrateful, but still</p>
+<div class="poem2">
+<p class="t2" style="text-indent:-10pt">
+&quot;I do not like thee, Dr. Fell,<br>
+The reason why I cannot tell,<br>
+But this I know, and know full well,<br>
+I do not like thee, Dr. Fell.&quot;</p>
+</div>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, who could Dick have been referring to as he repeated these lines
+with a thoughtful face? Certainly not to Dr. Fell. He was not
+acquainted with that gentleman.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+OPERATIONS.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The night was well on by this time, and though he did not intend to
+commence operations in Catchpole Square before midnight, there was
+plenty for him to do in the meantime. He made his way, therefore, with
+all expedition to his lodgings, fortifying himself on the road with a
+substantial meal at a cheap restaurant, and purchasing candles,
+matches, and half a pint of brandy. His spirits rose at the prospect
+of adventure; there is nothing like the uncertain to keep the blood at
+fever heat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Applebee was keeping Mrs. Pond company when he put his latchkey
+in the street door. Mrs. Pond had told Mrs. Applebee of her good
+fortune in securing so eligible a lodger, and Mrs. Applebee had
+narrated the conversation which Dick and her husband had had on the
+previous night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Applebee said he never did hear a young man go on so,&quot; said Mrs.
+Applebee. &quot;All I hope is he won't give you any trouble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What makes you say that?&quot; inquired Mrs. Pond.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, my dear, it was a queer time for a young man to be looking for
+lodgings on a night like that, when he couldn't see a yard before
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That was only his joke,&quot; responded Mrs. Pond; &quot;he's as nice a
+gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I do believe that's him coming in
+now. I must give him a candle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, thank you, Mrs. Pond,&quot; said Dick, taking the candlestick from
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can I do anything for you, sir?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, yes. Perhaps you can oblige me with an empty bottle, a large
+one with a cork.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had one in the cupboard, and she brought it out to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's had vinegar it, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That won't matter. Many thanks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the room above Dick set about his preparations for an invasion of
+Samuel Boyd's house. He made a careful examination of the rope and
+grapnel, and was satisfied that the rope would bear his weight and the
+grapnel catch on the top of the wall. Everything being ready, he
+waited for midnight, deeming it advisable not to go out till then, for
+there was no object in his roaming about the streets. He heard Mrs.
+Applebee bid Mrs. Pond good night, which was only preliminary to a
+long chat between the ladies, first in the passage, afterwards at the
+street door. Then he heard the door closed, and listened to hear if
+his landlady locked it. No sound of this reached his ears, and shortly
+afterwards all was silent in the house, Mrs. Pond having retired to
+rest. For a reason which he could not have explained he tumbled the
+bedclothes about, as if they had been slept in. He did not possess a
+watch, and he had to judge the time as well as he could. When he
+believed it to be near the hour he softly left the room, locked it,
+pocketed the key, and stepping like a cat, went downstairs and opened
+the street door. Hoping that it would not alarm Mrs. Pond he shut it
+as quietly as was possible, and, with the rope round his waistcoat and
+concealed by his coat, he turned his face in the direction of
+Catchpole Square. &quot;I'm in for it now,&quot; he thought. &quot;I feel like a
+burglar, out on his first job.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_20" href="#div1Ref_20">DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">His familiarity with the regulations and movements of the police
+hailing from the Bishop Street Police Station was of assistance to
+him. He knew that one end of Constable Applebee's beat was close to
+Catchpole Square, and his design was to watch for that officer's
+approach, and to remain hidden till he turned in the opposite
+direction. This would ensure him freedom of action for some fifteen or
+twenty minutes, time sufficient to enable him to mount the wall. He
+experienced little difficulty in the execution of this design.
+Constable Applebee sauntered to the end of his beat, lingered a moment
+or two, and then began to retrace his steps. Dick now prepared for
+action. &quot;I really think,&quot; he mused, &quot;that I should shine as a
+burglar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were few persons in the streets, and none in the thoroughfare on
+which the dead wall abutted. The first step to be taken was to
+ascertain if any person was in the house. He turned, therefore, into
+Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows. There was no light in
+them, and from the position in which he stood he could discern no
+signs of life within. No long neglected cemetery could have presented
+a more desolate appearance. He knocked at the door, and his summons,
+many times repeated, met with no response. Dick did all this in a
+leisurely manner, being prepared with an answer in case an explanation
+was demanded. So absolutely imperative was it that he should be
+convinced that the house was uninhabited before he forced an entrance
+that he kept in the Square fully a quarter of an hour, at the
+expiration of which he passed through Deadman's Court, and was once
+more in front of the dead wall. Stealing to each end of the
+thoroughfare to see that no person was in view, he unwound the rope
+from his body, and fixed upon the spot to fling the grapnel. The first
+throw was unsuccessful; and the second; but at the third the grapnel
+caught, and Dick pulled at it hard in order to be sure that it was
+fast. Then, moistening the palms of his hands, and muttering, &quot;Now,
+then, old Jack and the beanstalk,&quot; he commenced to climb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was not an easy task, partly in consequence of his inexperience at
+this kind of work, and partly because of the bulging of the large
+bottle of water under his waistcoat. But Dick was not to be beaten;
+not only were all the latent forces of his mind in full play, but all
+the latent forces of his body, and though his hands were chafed in the
+execution of the task, and the perspiration streamed down his face, he
+reached the top of the wall in safety, and with the bottle unbroken.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bravo, Dick,&quot; he gasped, pausing to recover his breath. &quot;Humpty
+Dumpty sat on a wall, I hope Humpty Dumpty won't have a bad fall. Take
+care of yourself, Dick, for my sake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Drawing up the rope he reversed the grapnel, fixed it tight, let the
+rope drop on the inner side of the wall, and slid nimbly down.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked around. There were windows at the back, most of them masked
+with inside shutters, as they had been for years. To each of the six
+houses there was a back yard, and each yard was separated from its
+neighbour on either side by a wall as nigh as high as that which
+enclosed them all in the rear. Thus Dick found himself shut out from
+the world, as it were, with little likelihood of his movements being
+detected from any of the houses except the one he intended to break
+into--and that was as still and lifeless as death itself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, my lad,&quot; he said, &quot;just to put life into you, for this desert of
+Sahara is enough to give any man the blue devils, I'll treat you to a
+drink. Is it agreed to? Passed unanimously.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then came the difficult task of unhooking the grapnel, for it would
+never do to leave it on the wall. He made several futile attempts to
+loosen and bring it down, and had he not discovered in a corner a
+forked pole which at some remote period had probably been used as a
+clothes' prop, there would have been nothing for it but to leave it
+there and run the risk of discovery. With the aid of the pole,
+however, he succeeded in unhooking it, so suddenly that it fell to the
+ground with a crash and nearly gave him a crack on the head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gathering up the rope and slinging it over his arm, Dick searched for
+a means of effecting an entrance into the house. From the evidences of
+decay all around he judged that no use had been made of the back of
+the premises for a considerable time past; during his service with
+Samuel Boyd he had had no acquaintance of the rooms which looked out
+upon the yard, his duties confining him to the office in which the
+secretarial work was done. Above a door, which he tried in vain to
+open, was a small window which seemed less secure than the others; and
+when he reached up to it (standing on a rickety bench against the
+wall), this proved to be the case; but though the frame rattled when
+he shook it he saw no means of getting out of the difficulty except by
+breaking a pane of glass. Half measures would not serve now, and he
+adopted this bold expedient, pausing to listen, when the shattered
+glass fell upon the floor within, whether the crash had raised an
+alarm. There was no indication of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Passing his hand through the aperture he managed to unfasten the
+window and to raise the sash. Much more difficult was it to raise his
+body to the level of the window; he had no safe foothold, the rickety
+bench upon which he stood threatened every moment to fall to pieces,
+and indeed in his violent efforts this actually happened, and he was
+left clinging to the window-sill by his fingers and nails; by a
+desperate effort he got his knees upon the sill, and tumbled or
+scrambled into a small dark room. He could not now proceed without a
+light, and he congratulated himself again on his forethought in
+bringing candles and matches, for Dick was not a smoker, and these
+articles might easily have been overlooked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Having obtained a light he took a survey of the room. The walls were
+bare, and there was no furniture in it. Casting his eyes upon the
+floor he was horrified to see it stained with fresh red blood upon
+which he was treading. He was so startled that he involuntarily
+pressed his left hand upon his heart, and raised his right hand, in
+which he held the lighted candle, in anticipation of a sudden attack.
+Then he discovered that he had cut that hand, and that the blood on
+the floor was his own. In his excitement he had not felt the pain of
+the wound. Wrapping his handkerchief round it, and drawing a deep
+breath of relief, he opened a door at the end of the room, and emerged
+into a passage, with a staircase leading to the rooms above.
+Ascending, he passed through another door which shut off this
+staircase from the better parts of the house, and found himself on a
+landing with which he was familiar, for on this floor was situated the
+office in which he used to work, another staircase at the end of the
+landing leading down to the front entrance. He knew now where he was,
+and in which direction to proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All his movements had been made with extreme caution, and almost at
+every step he took he paused and prepared for a surprise. But he was
+not interrupted in any way, and there was nothing to indicate that he
+was not master of the situation. It troubled him to observe that his
+footsteps left traces of blood behind them; these dark stains conveyed
+a suggestion that he had been engaged in a guilty deed. &quot;Do I look
+like a murderer?&quot; he thought. &quot;I feel like one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Before he entered the office he descended to the ground floor passage
+to ascertain if the street door was fast, and he was surprised to see
+the key lying on the mat. It was a sign of some significance, for had
+Samuel Boyd left his house for any length of time he would most
+certainly have locked the door from the outside and taken the key with
+him. But, assuming that this was not the case, why was not the key in
+the lock, and assuming, further, that Samuel Boyd had retired to rest,
+why was not the door bolted and chained?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Confused by the thought, Dick turned the key in the lock, opened the
+door an inch or two, and looked out upon Catchpole Square. All was
+silent and still. Dark clouds were scudding across the sky, with a
+heavy-hearted presage in them; such was the impression the gloom of
+night produced upon Dick. He reclosed and locked the door, and
+returned to the passage above.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When he turned the handle of the office door and entered the room in
+which he used to work he could hear the beating of his heart. In the
+dim light he could almost fancy that his skeleton was sitting on the
+old stool at the desk; but no being, human or spectral, with the
+exception of himself was there. Against the walls and in the corners
+lay the strange medley of articles which gave so singular a character
+to the apartment. There were no signs of confusion or disturbance;
+everything was in order. The drawers in desk and tables were closed,
+the safe in its old position, and to all appearance untampered with;
+beneath a paperweight of Japanese metal, representing a hideous mask,
+lay some papers which Dick did not stop to examine. Some of the
+articles in the collection had not been there during his term of
+service. The wine and the grand pianoforte were new to him. But who
+was that sitting in a chair, dressed in a flowered gaberdine?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon,&quot; stammered Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The figure did not answer him, and approaching nearer with stealthy
+steps he beheld the wax figure of the Chinaman, in an attitude of
+collapse, as it had fallen into the chair on the night of the 1st of
+March, when it was shot through the heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In heaven's name how came <i>you</i> here?&quot; muttered Dick. &quot;Speak up like
+a man, in pigeon-English if you like.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He could scarcely have been more amazed had the figure lifted its head
+and addressed him. A sense of tragedy weighed heavily upon his
+spirits, and the air seemed charged with significance and dreadful
+import. The occurrences of the last twenty-four hours: the
+disappearance of Abel Death, his wife's agonised appeal at the police
+station, Florence's flight from home, the discovery of her
+handkerchief in Catchpole Square, even--unreasonable as was the
+inclusion--the visit of Dr. Vinsen to the Death family--all seemed to
+converge to one point in this room, with its deathlike stillness, and
+to the strong probability of their explanation being found there. It
+partook more of a fancy from a madman's brain than that of a sane
+person, and yet Dick, candle in hand, peered in all directions for a
+clue to the elucidation of these mysteries. That he saw none did not
+weaken the impression under which he laboured. The dusky figures of
+knight and lady in the hangings of tapestry, the quaint carvings of
+man and beast on the mantel and fireplace, the paintings of flying
+angels on the ceiling, mocked and gibed at him whichever way he
+turned, and tended to increase the fever of his blood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were three communicating doors in the apartment--one leading to
+the passage, one to Mr. Boyd's bedroom, one to a room which had always
+been kept locked. Against the wall between that room and the office
+the grand piano was placed, and Dick recollected that in his time a
+large screen had been there, covering the space now occupied by the
+back of the piano. Very cautiously and slowly he opened the door of
+the bedroom. Wrought to a pitch of intense excitement it was not
+surprising that his hand shook--to such an extent, indeed, had he lost
+control of himself that the candle dropped to the ground and was
+extinguished. He was plunged in darkness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the brief glance he had directed to the bed he fancied he had seen
+the outline of a sleeping form, and as he knelt to search for the
+candle he called aloud, &quot;Mr. Boyd!&quot; and trembled at the sound of his
+voice. &quot;Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!&quot; he called again in louder tones, and his
+heated fancy created a muffled echo of the name, &quot;Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!&quot;
+Finding the candle he relighted it, and rising to his feet, slowly
+approached the bed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A dumb form was there, its back towards him. The bed was in the middle
+of the room, the head against the wall. Treading very gently he passed
+to the other side, and bending forward, with the candle in his
+upstretched hand, he saw a man's face--the face of Samuel Boyd, cold
+and dead!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_21" href="#div1Ref_21">THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">He reeled back in horror, but even in that one moment of discovery the
+necessity of preserving self-control forced itself upon him, and he
+became calm. The first real step in the mystery was taken, and all his
+powers of sober reason were needed to consider what would follow, and
+in what way the dread discovery would affect the beings he held most
+dear. Fortifying himself with a sip of brandy, and putting into a
+candlestick the candle he had held in his hand, he turned down the
+sheets to ascertain how the hard master he had served--the man in
+whose breast had dwelt no spark of compassion for any living
+creature--had met his death. There was no blood on the bedclothes, no
+stab or bullet in the dead man's body. On his face was an expression
+of suffering, as of one who had died in pain, and his neck was
+discoloured, as though a hand had tightly pressed it. But this might
+have been his own act in the agony of the death struggle, and his
+presence in his bed went far to prove that his end had been a natural
+one. A closer examination, however, dispelled this theory. The marks
+on his throat could scarcely have been made by himself, for his arms
+lay by his side in a natural position. Undoubtedly there had been
+violence done. By whom?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first person whose image came to Dick's mind was Abel Death. The
+image immediately suggested a train of circumstance which, in the heat
+of the moment, proclaimed the absent man guilty. Abel Death had made
+his appeal to Samuel Boyd, and had made it in vain. In a paroxysm of
+fury he had fallen upon his master, and had strangled him. Then,
+searching for money and finding it, he had fled from the house and
+taken passage in some outgoing vessel for a foreign land. Presuming
+that the murder had been committed on the night of the 1st of March
+there had been ample time to make his escape, but not sufficient time
+to communicate with his wife. Or, perhaps the man, overwhelmed by
+terror, was afraid to write.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But upon further reflection this train of circumstance fell apart, and
+Dick perceived how false it was. It was hardly probable that Samuel
+Boyd had received Abel Death while he was abed, and still less
+probable that in his sleeping attire he would open his street door to
+such a visitor. By no other means than through the door could Abel
+Death have obtained access to the house. No, it was not he who had
+committed the crime. But the man was gone, and the mystery of his
+disappearance was still unexplained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But if Abel Death could have obtained access to the house only by
+permission of Samuel Boyd, there was another man who had no need to
+ask for it. That man was Mr. Reginald Boyd. He possessed a key to the
+street door, and could obtain admittance at any hour. At any hour? No.
+Not after Samuel Boyd had chained and bolted the door from within
+before he went to bed. What was the presumption? That Reginald had
+quietly entered before the door was fastened, and had secreted himself
+until his father had retired to rest. Easy to imagine what followed:
+his appearance in the bedroom when his father was half asleep, his
+demands for money, the stern refusal and the taunting exchange of
+angry words, the hot blood roused, the clutching his father by the
+throat, the murder committed, the disposal of the limbs to make it
+appear that he had died a natural death, the unbolting and unchaining
+of the street door, and, finally, the frantic flight. But how to
+account for the key being upon the mat? As Dick mentally asked this
+question his eyes fell upon a key hanging by a cord at the head of the
+bed. Was it Samuel Boyd's own private key to the street door? So much
+depended upon this that Dick hastened downstairs to settle the point.
+Yes, it was Samuel Boyd's key. And the second key which Dick had
+picked up? Dropped by Reginald in his frenzy as he flew out of the
+house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick's heart sank within him. This plausible chain of circumstance
+fitted the theory that Reginald was the murderer. Horrible! Most
+horrible! And Florence loved this guilty man. He it was who was
+responsible for her flight from her peaceful, happy home; he it was
+who, for some sinister reason, had imposed secrecy upon her! It seemed
+to Dick as if he held the fate of Florence's lover in his hands. He
+returned the second key to its place at the head of the bed, and
+mechanically--but yet in pursuance of some immature thought--put the
+key he had found on the mat into his pocket. Then he quitted the room
+of death, and closing the door, sank into a chair, and rested his head
+on his hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">How should he act? What clear line of action did his duty point out to
+him? His duty! What if in pursuance of this moral obligation he
+wrecked Florence's life, and brought upon her despair so poignant as
+to drive her to her grave? No, a thousand times, no! Anything but
+that.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Why should it be incumbent upon him to proclaim the murder? Let others
+do it. But even then, would that save Reginald? The finger of
+suspicion would be pointed at him, and a clever lawyer would wind
+around him a chain of circumstantial evidence so firm and strong that
+it would be impossible for him to break through it. What were the
+links in this chain?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The quarrel between father and son some time since, which ended in
+Reginald being turned out of the house, with the stern injunction
+never to enter it again. Proof would surely be discovered to establish
+this, and it would be vain for Reginald to deny it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald's first visit to the house in Catchpole Square on the evening
+of the 1st of March. Abel Death had disappeared, but Mrs. Death was
+alive to testify to the fact. In this connection the pitiful image of
+little Gracie presented itself to Dick's mind, and he heard her
+plaintive appeal, &quot;You <i>will</i> find father, won't you?&quot; He had been
+anxious to do this, but he recognised now that Abel Death's appearance
+in court might be fatal to Reginald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next link was Reginald's second visit to Catchpole Square an hour
+or so before midnight, admitting himself to the house on that
+occasion, as on the first, with his own private latchkey. Who was to
+prove this? Remote as the Square was from public observation there was
+little doubt that Reginald had entered unseen. No witness existed,
+except Reginald himself, who could state what took place on this
+second visit, but it was a strong link in the chain that he had &quot;come
+down in the world,&quot; and was in need for money.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The murder being made public, Constables Pond and Applebee would be
+questioned as to whether they had observed any suspicious circumstance
+in the neighbourhood on the night of the 1st. Applebee would recall
+the visit to Samuel Boyd of a lady in her carriage. Who was the lady,
+and what was her business with him? This would be traced. Doubtless
+the lady herself would come forward. The constables would further
+recall the appearance of a woman lurking in Catchpole Square on the
+night of the 5th, her evident alarm on being challenged, and her
+escape from the clutches of Constable Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then came the question of the identity of the woman, in the answering
+of which Florence's handkerchief would furnish a clue. But if
+Constable Pond confessed how he had found and concealed the
+handkerchief it would, in all probability, lead to his dismissal from
+the force. It was therefore to his interest to say nothing about it.
+Dick had imposed silence upon him and his wife, and the chances were
+that secrecy would be preserved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He carried this point farther. It appeared certain that the murder was
+committed on the night of the 1st of March. Now, Florence's visit to
+Catchpole Square--assuming that it was she--was paid on the night of
+the 5th, five days after. What connection, then, could there be
+between this visit and the murder? He argued it out. She was in
+communication with Reginald; since his last visit to Aunt Rob's house,
+nearly a fortnight ago, letters had passed between them, and there was
+little doubt that, without the knowledge of her parents, she had seen
+and conversed with him. Fearful of venturing himself into the Square,
+had he sent her to ascertain whether there was any appearance of the
+house having been entered? That would imply her knowledge of the
+crime. Every pulse and nerve in Dick's body throbbed in revolt against
+the cruel suggestion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No!&quot; he cried aloud, starting to his feet. &quot;No--no--no!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But earnest as he might be on behalf of Florence he could not deny
+that the evidence, circumstantial as it was, formed a serious
+indictment against Reginald. In the midst of his agitation he noticed
+that in his starting from his chair he had swept off the table the
+Japanese paperweight and the documents which had lain beneath it.
+Stooping to pick them up and put them in their original order he saw
+the name of Reginald on one of the sheets, in Samuel Boyd's writing,
+with which he was familiar. Re-seating himself he immediately
+proceeded to read what was written thereon:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center">&quot;<i>Memoranda for my guidance. March 1st, 9.30 p.m</i>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<p class="normal">&quot;I jot down certain memoranda respecting my unworthy son, Reginald
+Boyd, to assist my memory in my application to the police to-morrow
+morning. Things slip my mind sometimes. This shall not. To the police
+I go early in the morning. I do not consider myself safe. My son and
+my clerk, Abel Death, whom I discharged from my service this evening,
+are in a conspiracy to rob me, and I must take measures against them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is two years since I turned my son out of my house in consequence
+of his misconduct and disobedience. I forbade him ever to darken my
+door again, or ever to address me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In defiance of this command he stole into the house this afternoon
+during my absence, and though Abel Death endeavoured to keep it from
+me, I forced the information from him that this scamp of a son of mine
+intends to come again late to-night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Impress strongly upon the police that these men are conspiring to rob
+me. Reginald has in his possession a key to the street door. It is my
+property. He stole it from me. If he does not get in through the front
+door he will find some other way. He is better acquainted with the ins
+and outs of this house than I am myself. He is an ungrateful,
+worthless scoundrel. They are a pair of scoundrels.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-morrow I will draw out my will. Reginald knows that it is not made
+yet. If I were to die to-night all that I possess would fall to him as
+heir at law, and I am determined he shall have not have a shilling of
+my money. Not a shilling. He is reckoning, I dare say, upon coming
+into a fortune. He will find out his mistake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Shall</i> I see him? I should like to tell him to his face that he will
+be a beggar all his life, and to tell him, too, that I intend to put
+the police upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Notation, 2647. S.B.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The reading of this document filled Dick with consternation. It
+supplied, not one, but several new links in the chain of
+circumstantial evidence. Were it to fall into the hands of the police
+Reginald's doom would be sealed. There would be only one chance for
+him--his being able to prove that he had not visited his father's
+house on the night of March 1st. His bare word would not be
+sufficient; he must produce witnesses, to show how and where he passed
+his time on that night. Failing this, the evidence, in the murdered
+man's own handwriting, would be fatal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It could not be that the murder would remain much longer undiscovered.
+Mrs. Death's application to the magistrate and the publicity given to
+the disappearance of her husband, clerk to Samuel Boyd of Catchpole
+Square, in conjunction with the silence and non-appearance of Samuel
+Boyd himself, would be sure to direct attention to the house, not only
+on the part of the mystery-mongers who have a passion for such
+matters, but on the part of the general public. The probability was
+that in a very short time, perhaps in a few hours, all London would be
+ringing with this new mystery. He saw, in fancy, the show-bills of the
+newspapers, and heard the cries of the newsboys as they ran through
+the streets with successive editions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again he had to consider his course of action, and he was not long
+undecided. He would be silent. It was not Reginald he was championing,
+it was Florence. Until he saw and spoke with her he would do all that
+lay in his power to divert suspicion from the man she loved. Animated
+by this resolve, and with a dogged disregard of consequences, he
+folded the incriminating document and put it in his pocket. He made no
+attempt to justify himself; at all hazards he was determined to
+protect Florence, and, right or wrong, he would do what he had
+determined to do. The knowledge he had gained he would keep locked in
+his breast. Let others make the discovery of the murder. He would not
+move a step towards it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">All this time he had not given a thought to his own safety, to the
+peril in which he would be placed if his presence in the house of
+death became known. It was easy enough to devise a train of argument
+which would cast such suspicion upon himself as to cause most people
+to believe that he was the guilty man. Having no wish to court this
+danger he determined to leave the house as quickly as possible, and to
+postpone further reflection till the morning.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A last look into the death-chamber, a swift glance at the awful form
+lying there, a hurried examination of the papers to see if there were
+any other incriminating documents among them--which to his relief
+there were not--a pause before the wax figure of the Chinaman and a
+weird fancy that it also had met its death at the hand of a murderer,
+the careful gathering together of all the articles he had brought with
+him into the house, and he was ready to go.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had a thought of leaving the house by the front door, but there was
+greater risk in that than in going back the way he had come; so he
+scrambled out of the window at the back, finding it much more
+difficult to scramble out than to scramble in, and was once more in
+the yard. He listened for sounds of voices or footsteps in the
+thoroughfare on the other side of the dead wall, and, hearing none,
+flung his grapnel up. It caught at the first throw, and climbing the
+rope he cautiously peeped over the wall to see if any wayfarers were
+about. No person was in sight. Detaching the grapnel he hung by his
+hands and dropped to the ground, thinking how foolish he had been in
+the first instance not to have adopted this means of reaching the
+inner ground. Tying the rope round his waist, and buttoning his coat
+over that and the large bottle, half the water in which he had drank
+during his investigations, he proceeded in the direction of his
+lodgings, nibbling a biscuit as he walked along.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The faint light of early morn was in the sky. A new day was dawning,
+to bring joy to some, despair to some, to raise this toiler up, to
+dash this toiler down. No warning of these issues in the peaceful grey
+light of morn. Majestic nature rolls its allotted course heedless of
+the fret of life. The yellow gas in the street lamps had a ghastly
+glare; at the end of a street a cat with green eyes gleaming like evil
+jewels stood in the middle of the road, and scampered off at his
+approach. A wretched man who seemed to start out of the ground cried,
+&quot;Hi!&quot; and flung a stone after it, and then, with folded arms and head
+sunk low on his breast, slinked off with a scowl, as though he had
+struck at the world for its treatment of him; two or three blear-eyed
+human night-birds, shivering in the grey light which, in its promise
+of a fair day, brought no solace to them, slouched close to the walls
+and houses, and cast lowering glances upon Dick as he passed; a
+forlorn woman, who had better have been in her grave, said, &quot;Good
+morning, my dear,&quot; in a voice so false and hollow in its horrible
+gaiety that he shuddered as he heard it, and hurried on. But he turned
+and threw the degraded creature a sixpence. In his state of mind all
+forms of misery appealed strongly to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He reached Paradise Row in safety, and got into the house without
+disturbing his landlady. Locking the door of his room, he threw off
+his clothes and went to bed, deeming it wiser to seek three or four
+hours' rest in a natural way than to sleep with his clothes on. He was
+wearied and exhausted, but so excited that sleep did not come readily
+to him. Drowsily courting it he found himself dwelling upon the last
+words in the document he had stolen--there was no mincing the matter;
+he <i>had</i> stolen it: &quot;Notation 2647.&quot; What could be the meaning of
+those words? Notation 2647--notation 2647. He repeated it dozens of
+times, and dreamt that the wax figure of the Chinaman was pursuing him
+over mountain and field, through fire and water, shouting after him,
+&quot;Notation 2647!&quot; Youth and a healthy physique, however, triumphed over
+these disordered fancies, and after awhile he sank into a dreamless
+sleep, and arose, refreshed and full of vigour, at half past eight. He
+heard the snoring of Constable Pond, and the soft footsteps of Mrs.
+Pond outside his door. He stepped into the passage, and it was like
+the breath of spring to his senses to meet her smiling face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good morning, sir,&quot; she said. &quot;I hope you slept well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Capitally,&quot; he replied. &quot;The bed is very comfortable. Did I disturb
+you at all last night?&quot; He waited in anxiety for her answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, sir. I'm asleep the minute I put my head on the pillow. Pond
+says I should be a blessing to burglars. Can I get you anything for
+breakfast?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing, thank you,&quot; he said. &quot;I take my meals out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next moment he was on his way to Aunt Rob. She was expecting his
+arrival, and ran to open the door for him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've been waiting for you, Dick. Have you had breakfast?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wouldn't stop for it, Aunt Rob,&quot; he answered, &quot;I thought you would
+give me a bite.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's ready laid for you, my dear. I had a letter from Florence this
+morning, and one has come for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From Florence?&quot; he cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, it's not her writing.&quot; She gave him both letters, and said that
+Uncle Rob had gone out early in the morning to seek for her. &quot;We
+haven't had a wink of sleep all night,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He read Florence's letter first. It was to the same effect as her
+letters of yesterday. She was quite well and safe, and begged them not
+to be anxious about her. Her dear love to darling mother and father,
+and to Dick. She would write twice every day, and hoped with all her
+heart that everything would soon be all right.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a happiness to know that she is safe and well,&quot; said Dick. &quot;We
+must have patience, Aunt Rob.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what does she mean by her 'duty,' Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We shall hear that from her own lips by-and-by,&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And isn't it strange,&quot; said the anxious mother, &quot;that she doesn't
+say a word of Mr. Reginald?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it <i>is</i> strange.&quot; But in his heart he did not think so. He
+believed he knew why the name was not mentioned.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is your letter about, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He opened it, read it hurriedly, and did not betray the agitation it
+caused him. &quot;A private letter, aunt, from an old friend. Has Uncle Bob
+got another day's leave of absence from the office?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; he must go back to his duty to-night. He wanted to see you
+badly, but he couldn't stop at home, he's that restless. I wish you'd
+have a talk with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll manage it. If I don't catch him here, I'll drop in at the
+station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was itching to read his letter more carefully, but he would not
+arouse her suspicions by running away too suddenly, so he remained
+with her a few minutes longer, and then, saying he would see her again
+in the course of the day, took his leave.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you going anywhere particular, Dick?&quot; she asked, accompanying him
+to the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am going to look for Florence,&quot; he replied, kissing her. &quot;It will
+be hard if we don't soon get some good news. Keep up your heart, dear
+aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He did not take the letter from his pocket till he was in a quiet
+street.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<span class="sc">My Dear Dick</span>&quot; (it ran), &quot;The reason that I have had the address on
+the envelope written in a strange hand is that I do not want mother to
+know I am writing to you. You must not tell her. I feel sure you will
+get my letter this morning, because you will have heard of my going
+away, and will go to mother's to get some news of me. I need your
+help, dear Dick. I am at 16, Park Street, Islington, first floor. Come
+at 2 o'clock; I shall be looking out for you; and let it be a secret
+between us. I know how true and faithful you are, and I have no fear
+that you will betray me. With constant love, my dear Dick,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:40%">&quot;Your affectionate Cousin,</p>
+
+<p style="text-indent:60%">&quot;<span class="sc">Florence</span>.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_22" href="#div1Ref_22">DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE
+WORD.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At last!&quot; said Dick. &quot;At last a ray of light! What's the time?&quot; He
+looked at a clock in a baker's shop. &quot;Five minutes past ten. Ought I
+to go to her at once? No, I think not. Had she wanted me earlier she
+would have said, 'Come to me the moment you get this letter.' Four
+long hours to wait. What am I to do with myself till two o'clock?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With the idea of making time fly faster he began to count his steps--
+ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred. He made
+a calculation. A step a second, three hundred steps three hundred
+seconds, five minutes, and five minutes more employed in thought and
+calculation. Ten minutes gone, ten minutes nearer to Florence. He came
+to another shop with a clock in it; it marked eight minutes past ten.
+He had done all this in three minutes. He had walked too quickly, and
+was fast working himself up to fever heat. &quot;Keep cool, my lad,&quot; he
+muttered; &quot;you'll mar instead of mend if you don't keep cool.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But the events of the last few hours, with their tragic issues,
+pressed so heavily upon him that he found it no easy matter to keep
+cool. Much easier was it to conjure up the feelings of a murderer,
+who, oppressed with the weight of his undiscovered crime, fancies he
+discerns in every face the knowledge of his guilt--turning his head
+over his shoulder every minute to see if he was being dogged--starting
+at familiar sounds, especially at the sound of bells and clocks
+striking the hour, every peal proclaiming to all the world that a
+Murderer was passing that way--tortured by the devilish temptation to
+leap into the middle of the road, and flinging up his arms to scream
+aloud, &quot;Stop, you grinning fools! <i>I did it!</i>&quot; Then running to a
+bridge, with a mob at his heels, and flinging himself into the river.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For some minutes Dick was under a spell of this nature. He looked
+nervously at the head-lines on the newspaper bills, and listened for
+the shouting of the newsboys, &quot;Murder! Murder! Frightful Murder in
+Catchpole Square!&quot; But no such words reached his ears. Passing the
+shop in which he had purchased the rope and grapnel, he was almost
+prepared to see the dirty-faced old man, in his list slippers and
+greasy skull cap, run out and cry, &quot;Stop that man! Ask him what he did
+with the rope he bought of me last night. Stop him--stop him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am losing my senses,&quot; said Dick, &quot;indulging in these fancies. I
+shall be deluding myself presently into the belief that it was I who
+murdered Samuel Boyd. I'll go and see little Gracie. I may get some
+news of Abel Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie was in bed, and Mrs. Death was in the adjoining room, preparing
+a linseed poultice for her. She looked into Dick's face, and dropped
+her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've heard nothing, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing,&quot; he replied. &quot;I have come to see Gracie. Is she any better?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She's no worse, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death, with a sigh, &quot;but I can hardly
+keep her in bed, and the trouble I have to put a poultice on her is
+beyond description; I have almost to go on my bended knees. She's the
+dearest child, sir; she never thinks of herself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Upon Dick's entrance Gracie sat up in bed and put out her hand; it was
+hot and clammy, and Dick patted it kindly, and held it in his. The
+faces of the other children, who were all sitting on the floor,
+playing shop with stones and broken pieces of crockery, became
+illumined at sight of Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's good of you to come,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;I thought you would. You
+mustn't mind my coughing a bit. I'm ever so much better, but mother
+<i>will</i> worry about me. I want to whisper to you. Do you think father's
+dead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Gracie,&quot; he said, to comfort her. &quot;I don't think that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then what's keeping him away? Is he afraid of somebody? Father never
+did anything wrong. We'll look for him together when I'm well. Shall
+we?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Gracie; and so that you may get well soon and find him, you
+mustn't sit up in bed.&quot; He put her head gently on the hard pillow, and
+arranged the scanty coverings over her. She made no resistance, but
+kept her eyes upon him, gravely and steadily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've been dreaming of you all night long,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, what do <i>you</i> want?&quot; said Dick to Connie, who was standing at
+his knee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here's two ounces of tea,&quot; said Connie, giving him a stone, &quot;and some
+scrag of mutton&quot; (giving him another), &quot;and a silk dress&quot; (giving him
+another), &quot;and a pound of sugar, and a penn'orth of brandy balls, and
+a pair of boots, and four pounds of potatoes, and a pint of beer&quot;--all
+represented by stones, which Dick accepted with an air of great
+enjoyment. &quot;If you haven't got any money we'll trust you.&quot; Having
+effected which sale upon these unbusinesslike conditions, the child
+trotted back to her brothers and sisters, who put their heads together
+and whispered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Death entered with the poultice, and was about to put it on, when
+a soft tapping was heard on the passage door. Before any one could
+answer it the handle was turned and Dr. Vinsen presented himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie lay back in bed, and clutched Dick's hand tight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As Dr. Vinsen glanced around the room, Dick thought his eyes were
+smaller and sleepier than on the first occasion they had met; his
+heavy white lids hung low, and partially veiled them; but this aspect
+of languor was more than counterbalanced by the fringe of yellow
+hair round his bald head, which gave him a luminous, not to say a
+saint-like appearance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, Mr. Dick Remington,&quot; he said, in the pleasantest of voices, &quot;good
+morning, <i>good</i> morning. Are you also here on a mission of kindness to
+our little patient--our lit-tle pa-tient? Permit me.&quot; He disengaged
+the clammy hand which clasped Dick's, and timed Gracie's pulse by his
+large gold watch, at which the children stared in awe. &quot;Rather
+feverish, but an improvement. What do you say? It's nothing to
+worry about? Then we'll not worry about it. Why should we? Life
+brings a peck of worries in its train--why should we make the peck
+overflow--o-ver-flow?&quot; With his head on one side, like a large
+yellow-fringed bird, he smilingly invited an opinion from Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, indeed?&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;True--true. Why?&quot; As though not he, but Dick, had made the inquiry.
+&quot;We are getting along nicely, Mrs. Death, I am happy to say. In a
+short time we shall have our little patient running about again,
+playing with her companions, as well as ever. The troubles of
+children, eh, Mr. Remington?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said Dick, vaguely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A private word in your ear. Have we heard from our missing friend?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe not,&quot; replied Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Sad--sad--sad! But there is time--there is always time; and
+hope--there is always hope. She bears up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What else can she do? Knocking your head against a stone wall is not
+an agreeable diversion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Your</i> head, my young friend, <i>your</i> head,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen,
+jocosely. Then turning to Mrs. Death, &quot;What is this? A linseed
+poultice? Very proper. Let it be very hot. Our little patient makes a
+face. If she never has a worse trouble than a linseed poultice she is
+to be envied. Here is a bottle of medicine--a tablespoonful every four
+hours. I will call again to-morrow. You will not shut your door
+against me, eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, indeed, sir. We don't shut the door against our best friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So kind of you to say so.&quot; He paused to contemplate the group of
+children on the floor. &quot;This&quot;--with a comprehensive wave of his hand,
+so as to take in the whole of the room--&quot;is a scene for an artist, and
+on the walls of the Academy would attract attention, even from the
+aristocracy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That wouldn't help them much,&quot; observed Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know--I really don't know. It enlarges the scope, widens the
+sympathies--wi-dens the sym-pa-thies. Be happy, children, be happy.&quot;
+He went through the ceremony of shaking hands with Dick and Mrs.
+Death, and with an amiable smile, in which his halo seemed to take
+part, left the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick,&quot; whispered Gracie. He bent towards her. &quot;May I call you Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wait a bit till my cough's over.&quot; She almost choked herself in her
+effort to finish the sentence before the cough commenced. It lasted a
+long time, but Dick, supporting her in his arms, was glad to hear that
+it was looser. Then she whispered to him again, &quot;Don't let 'em hear
+us, Dick. Say Damn!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Damn!&quot; said Dick, without the least hesitation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She sank back and smiled. It was the first time Dick had seen her
+smile, and it brought a wonderful light into her sallow face. Whatever
+may have been the reason for the singular request, she was evidently
+much relieved.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_23" href="#div1Ref_23">FLORENCE AND REGINALD.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The hands of all the clocks in Islington that kept correct time marked
+the hour of two as Dick stood before the door of 16, Park Street. His
+hand was on the knocker, when the door was opened, and Florence drew
+him into the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come upstairs, Dick,&quot; she said, panting as if she had been running.
+&quot;I saw you from the window, and ran down. Oh, Dick, I am so glad to
+see you--so glad, so glad!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On the landing of the first floor she stopped and kissed him. &quot;Come
+in, Dick, come in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They entered a comfortably furnished room, and by the aid of the
+better light he saw that she was struggling to keep back her tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you well, Florence?&quot; he asked anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In health? Oh, yes,&quot; she answered. &quot;But I am in trouble. That is why
+I sent for you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You did right. I am here to help you. You may rely upon me,
+Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do, dear. Tell me first. How is my dear mother--and my dear
+father--how are they, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know how they must be, Florence, loving you as they do. They are
+in the most terrible trouble about you. Uncle Rob has been hunting all
+over London for you. I don't wish to distress you, but they have not
+had a moment's rest. It is right that I should tell you this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are quite right, dear. Poor mother and father! It cuts me to
+the heart, but I could not act in any other way. You shall judge,
+Dick--you shall judge--and if you condemn me----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't give way, Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I won't. I will be brave. I have been brave to do what I have done.
+Such a cruel thing, such a cruel, cruel thing!--but it was my
+duty--my duty! Oh, Dick, if you knew what love was, you would know of
+what it was capable. I may speak to you, dear, as a sister to a
+brother, may I not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Florence, as a sister to a brother,&quot; he said, quietly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can understand now so many things to which I was blind a year
+ago--what love will lead a woman to do, how it can harden the
+heart----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Harden the heart!&quot; he cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was my heart not hardened,&quot; she said, piteously, &quot;when I stole away
+like a thief from the parents who loved and cherished me, knowing, as
+I knew, that I was bringing misery upon them? Was my heart not
+hardened when, at the call of love, I trod love under my feet? My
+prayer was that my separation would not be long, and that, when I was
+free to speak, they would forgive me and take me to their hearts
+again. But what can repay them for the suffering I have inflicted upon
+them--how shall I atone for the wound my own hand has dealt?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They will not think of it, Florence, if all is well with you, if,
+when you are free to speak, they approve of what you have done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you doubt it, Dick?&quot; she asked, her hand at her heart.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No--on my soul, no!&quot; he cried. &quot;I could never doubt it--I----&quot; He
+came to a sudden stop as his eyes fell upon the hand that lay at her
+breast. She saw the earnest gaze, but did not remove her hand. &quot;That
+ring, Florence!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My wedding ring, Dick,&quot; she said, and pressed her lips upon it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are married!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am married, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To Mr. Reginald?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; but that is not the name I bear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He covered his face with his hands. He had long known that she was
+lost to him, but only at this moment did he fully realise it. And not
+alone that. He was overwhelmed by the thought of the damning evidence
+in his pocket, a virtual accusation of murder made by the murdered man
+himself against his son, against Florence's husband! An ashen face
+confronted her as he took his hands from his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick!&quot; she cried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is nothing, dear, nothing.&quot; His eyes wandered around the room.
+&quot;You are not living here alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Dick. My husband is in that room. Come and see him. Tread softly,
+softly!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She opened the door, and he followed her into the room, and there, in
+bed, lay the son of Samuel Boyd, the man lying dead in his house in
+Catchpole Square.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The doctor has given him a sleeping draught,&quot; said Florence, in a low
+tone. &quot;He has been very ill, and no one to nurse him but I.&quot; With
+tender care she smoothed the pillow, and drew the counterpane over his
+shoulders, then stooped and kissed him. When she raised her face it
+was illumined. Love shone there, and a divine pity. There are memories
+which dwell in the mind till the hour of death, and this revelation of
+devoted love would dwell in Dick's mind till his life was ended.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is he changed much?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is worn and thin,&quot; Dick replied. &quot;Has he been ill long?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A good many days, but thank God! the doctor says he will get well. If
+he sleeps till eight or nine o'clock it will help his recovery
+greatly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They re-entered the sitting room. Dick took a chair with its back to
+the light, and each looked at the other in silence awhile. Florence
+was the first to speak.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where shall I commence, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At the beginning,&quot; he replied. &quot;Hide nothing from me if you are sure
+you can trust me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>am</i> sure. There is no shame in an honest love, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None, Florence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is eighteen months ago that Reginald and I first met. Mother and I
+were spending an evening with a friend when he came in and was
+introduced to us as Mr. Reginald, A few days afterwards we met him in
+the street, and he walked a little way with us, and asked if he might
+call and see us; and soon he became a regular visitor. How does love
+come, Dick? It is a mystery, but I know I used to think a great deal
+of him when he was away, and once or twice when we expected him and he
+did not come I felt unhappy. When I heard his voice I was happy again,
+and then I knew I loved him. One day he spoke to me, and my heart was
+filled with happiness when he told me he loved me. He said he feared
+he was wrong in speaking to me of love, for there was a secret in his
+life which he did not wish to disclose for a time; and he asked, if we
+entered into an engagement, that I should say nothing of it to my
+parents without his consent. I loved him, Dick, and trusted him, and I
+consented to everything he proposed. So I had a lover, and no one at
+home knew anything of it. Do not misjudge Reginald; he is the soul of
+honour, and I would as soon doubt the goodness of God as I would doubt
+the good faith and honour of the man I love. Do I hear him moving?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She rose, and stepped softly to the bedroom. Returning, she said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he is sleeping peacefully. Oh, Dick, dear, you would pity him if
+you knew how he has suffered, and how little he deserves it. It is two
+months to-day that he spoke very seriously to me, in consequence of
+something you said. You will remember it, Dick. You were in a
+situation as clerk, and one night you told us that you were acting as
+clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, and that you intended to
+give up your situation because of the bad character he bore. He was a
+money-lender, you said, and had brought ruin on a number of poor
+people. Mother didn't like the idea of your throwing up your
+situation, but when you asked her if she would advise you to stop with
+such a man she said, no, she wouldn't, and that Mr. Samuel Boyd was a
+rascal. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that I was
+sorry for you. Reginald recalled that conversation, and warned me to
+prepare for a disclosure that might cause me to shrink from him. He
+had kept his name concealed, he said, because he was ashamed of his
+father, who was no other than the Mr. Samuel Boyd of whom such hard
+words were spoken at home. He told me of his life; how during his
+boyhood he was kept at school, and then sent abroad to learn
+languages; how he knew nothing of his father's doings, who described
+himself as a financier; how, his education being completed, his father
+summoned him home, and how, while he lived in Catchpole Square, he was
+shocked at the discovery of the kind of business his father was
+engaged in. It was so revolting to Reginald that he spoke his mind
+freely; they had quarrels, and the end of it was that he left his
+father's house, determined to get his own living in a more honest way.
+Wasn't it noble of him, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was what an honourable man would do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When Reginald had told me all this, he said he was sure that if it
+came to the knowledge of mother and father that he was Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's son they would forbid him the house; and he begged me to give
+him a proof of my love by consenting to a marriage at a registrar's
+office, and to keep it a secret till he was in a position to furnish a
+home for me. I loved him so that I consented, and I promised, too, to
+keep it secret till he gave me permission to speak to mother and
+father. So we went one morning to a registrar's office, and were
+married. I wasn't absent from home more than two hours, and no one
+suspected the step we had taken. I can't say I was happy; keeping a
+secret of that kind from parents so kind and dear made me appear in my
+own eyes very ungrateful, but Reginald was so hopeful that I bore up,
+and prayed for the day to arrive when we could ask forgiveness. Do you
+condemn me, Dick? Do you condemn Reginald? Put yourself in his place,
+and say whether, if you loved a girl as he loves me, you could bear
+the idea of losing her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I would lose my heart's blood first,&quot; said Dick. &quot;But it was hard for
+Uncle and Aunt Rob.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it was hard, and it often made me very wretched, but I couldn't
+break my promise to Reginald; that would have been a bad commencement
+for a young wife. The worst of it was that he wasn't getting along
+very well. 'I shall be getting desperate presently,' he said, 'unless
+things take a turn for the better. Our little home seems farther off
+than ever.' I cheered him up, and said there was plenty of time before
+us, and that I was sure there was some good luck in store for him. So
+things went on till a fortnight ago, when he said he was afraid he had
+done wrong in persuading me to a secret marriage. 'But I've an idea,'
+he said, 'and whatever comes of it I'll carry it out. Don't ask me
+what it is; it's something I must keep to myself.' Dick,&quot; said
+Florence, breaking off, &quot;that night at home when you and mother were
+speaking against Mr. Samuel Boyd, did you do so purposely because
+Reginald was with us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I spoke purposely,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald said you did, and that you looked as if you had a suspicion
+of him. But you didn't know he was Mr. Boyd's son?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did know it,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why did you keep it to yourself?&quot; she asked, with a troubled look.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was for your sake, Florence,&quot; he answered quietly. &quot;It wasn't for
+me to pry into your secrets.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, dear,&quot; said Florence, putting her hand into his with a
+tender smile, &quot;it was like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did Reginald carry out his idea, Florence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't tell you; he said nothing more about it to me. Last Saturday
+I received a letter from him saying he wasn't very well, and couldn't
+come to mother's on Sunday, and asking me not to call and see him till
+I heard from him again. What day of the month is this, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The 7th. Last Saturday was the 2nd,&quot; said Dick, and thought, &quot;The day
+after he went to his father's house late at night, the day after Abel
+Death went there in the night in the hope that Samuel Boyd would take
+him back again, <i>the day after the murder!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick, the 7th. I didn't go to Reginald either on that day or on
+Sunday. You can imagine how miserable I was. On Monday morning I
+received another short letter, in which he asked me again not to come
+and see him. The next letter came on Tuesday night when mother and I
+were sitting together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That was the night of the great fog. Aunt Rob told me you went out in
+the afternoon in the thick of it. What did you go out for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I came here to inquire after Reginald. The landlady said he wasn't
+well, and that she had just posted a letter to me from him. 'May I go
+up and see him?' I asked, and she answered, calling me 'miss,' that he
+had given orders that no one was to be allowed up, and that when I had
+read the letter I might know what to do. I was far from happy, Dick,
+as I walked home through the fog, and a great deal unhappier when the
+night postman brought the letter, for there was something in it--I
+hardly know what--that made me feel I ought to go to him. I couldn't
+ask advice of mother because of my promise to Reginald, which I
+wouldn't break; and even if anyone had advised me against what I
+believed was right I shouldn't have listened to it. I went to my
+bedroom early, and so did mother, and I got out of the house at ten
+o'clock and came straight here. In the streets I put on my wedding
+ring, which I had not worn at home, of course, only putting it on and
+looking at it when I was alone in my room, and I took care that the
+landlady should see it when I told her I was a relation of Reginald's
+and had come to nurse him. It was time I did, for he was wandering in
+his mind, and hadn't called in a doctor because he couldn't afford to
+pay for one. Thank God I had a little money in my purse, and I've got
+thirty pounds in the Post Office Savings Bank which I've given notice
+to take out. Reginald didn't know me, and I was in the most dreadful
+trouble about him. All his wandering thoughts were about me and his
+father, and I thought what a shocking thing it would be if he were to
+die without seeing him. Oh, Dick, my heart was breaking, but I wanted
+to do what was right, and I thought it likely, if Mr. Boyd saw
+Reginald in the state he was, that his heart would soften towards the
+poor boy. I tried to get at his wishes. Bending over him I said, 'Do
+you want to see your father?' I said it three or four times, and then
+he said, 'Yes, yes, my father, Catchpole Square. The end house in
+Catchpole Square. My father--my father!' I called the landlady in, and
+asked her if she would stop up with Reginald while I went to fetch
+some one he wanted to see. She consented, and I went out. It was very
+late when I got to the house in Catchpole Square, and I knocked and
+knocked without anyone answering me. 'He can't be there,' I thought,
+and I was creeping out of the Square when two men came into it. One of
+them had a bull's eye lamp in his hand, and I saw they were policemen.
+My anxiety then was to get away from them, but they saw me and called
+out to me to stop, and laid hands on me. How I escaped I don't know,
+but I tore myself away and ran for my life, and in a minute or two I
+was alone and free. Then I managed to find my way back here, and sent
+the good landlady to bed, telling her that the person I had gone to
+fetch was out of town. Yesterday morning early I sent for a doctor,
+and he said that Reginald would have died if he hadn't been called in,
+but that there were hopes for him. Oh, how I thanked God for the good
+news! and how grateful I was when Reginald last night opened his eyes
+and recognised me! He didn't blame me, poor boy, but spoke so sweetly
+of everybody! I told him how I had run away from home, and I begged
+him to allow me to end this mystery and to make things right with
+father and mother. He thought a little, and said, 'Send for your
+cousin Dick, and do what he advises.' I cried for joy, and I sat down
+at once and wrote to you. Now you know all, dear. Will you go and tell
+them everything, and ask them to forgive poor Reginald and me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will, Florence,&quot; said Dick, &quot;the moment I go from here. It will be
+a happiness to me to relieve their suspense. But I want to ask you a
+question or two first.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How long has Reginald been ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Since Saturday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he been in bed all the time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I go into his room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What for? If he's asleep&quot;--she opened the door and peeped in--&quot;yes,
+he's asleep. You won't disturb him, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I will not speak to him. I've got my reasons, Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, dear,&quot; she said, her eyes following him as he stepped
+softly to the bedroom, and closed the door behind him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His purpose was to examine Reginald's boots, and he saw them the
+moment he entered the room. Reginald having been in bed since Saturday
+they could not have been worn since his visit to Catchpole Square on
+Friday night. Dick took them up, and discerned on the soles traces of
+the waxed paper which Samuel Boyd had set as a trap. With his penknife
+he carefully scraped off these tell-tale evidences of the visit, and
+returned to Florence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know,&quot; he asked, &quot;when Reginald saw his father last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; she answered, &quot;it must have been a long time ago.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He did not disabuse her. &quot;He is sleeping quite calmly,&quot; he said. &quot;Did
+the doctor say when he would be able to get up?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In two or three days, he told me, if the opiate he gave him had the
+desired effect. It <i>is</i> having it, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No doubt of that. By the way, Florence, in your haste to escape from
+the policemen in Catchpole Square did you lose or drop anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How clever you are to think of it, Dick! I lost a handkerchief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With your name on it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. All my handkerchiefs are marked. I think I had it in my hand
+when I was in the Square, but I can't be sure. It is of no
+consequence. There are plenty of girls named Florence. How did you cut
+your hand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With some broken glass. <i>That's</i> of no consequence. It is only a
+scratch.&quot; The exertion and haste he had made in scraping the wax off
+Reginald's boots had started the blood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me bind it up. Oh, Dick, you are our good angel! Dear Dick!
+Reginald likes you so much! But he had an idea that you didn't care
+for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I care for him very much, Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do you know,&quot; she said, almost gaily, so happy was she in the
+prospect of Reginald's speedy recovery, and of removing the cloud of
+misery she had brought upon her parents, &quot;he had another idea--but I
+won't mention that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, do, dear. Remember, you are to hide nothing from me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, he had an idea that you were fond of me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is right. I am very fond of you, Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know that, dear. But in another way, he meant. You understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, dear cousin, I understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I told him that we had been brought up together, and that he wasn't
+to be jealous of my dear cousin Dick. Foolish of him, wasn't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very foolish. How could such an idea have got into his head?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well--perhaps--it--was--natural,&quot; she said, with an arch pause
+between each word. Ah, if she could have read his heart at that
+moment! But he did not betray himself. &quot;There! I am sure your hand
+must feel more comfortable. I hope your feelings won't change towards
+me now that I'm a married woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My feelings will never change, Florence, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A married woman! How strange and beautiful it sounds! To think of the
+time when we were playing together as little children! Such changes,
+Dick, such changes! It is almost as if we were not ourselves. My dear
+cousin! Do you think dear mother and father will come to me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will answer for them. Now, I must go. Every moment saved is a
+moment of happiness gained to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go, Dick, go quickly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They kissed, and he was gone. When he was in the street he looked up
+at the window, and saw her standing there, looking out after him. She
+threw the window open, and kissed her hand to him. He returned the
+fond sign and hurried on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Steady, Dick, steady,&quot; he said.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_24" href="#div1Ref_24">DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The admonition was needed, for his brain was in a whirl. The
+disclosure of Reginald's movements made by Florence, his statement to
+her that he had an idea for improving his circumstances which he
+intended to carry out &quot;whatever came of it,&quot; his silence regarding his
+visits to the house in Catchpole Square, his fevered ravings about his
+father--were, as Dick said with a groan, &quot;so many nails in his
+coffin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No doubt can exist,&quot; he argued, &quot;that Samuel Boyd was murdered either
+by his son Reginald or by Abel Death. If what I know were made public
+Reginald would be immediately arrested and charged. Poor Florence! She
+little knows what is in store for her, and what can't be hidden much
+longer. But where, where is Abel Death? Is it possible that he also
+has been murdered? That would make things worse for Reginald. I'll
+search the house from top to bottom to-night in the hope of not
+finding his body, for then the chance of his being the murderer would
+still be open. If Florence's husband is put in the dock we'll make a
+fight for his life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Having thus relieved his mind he struck a bee-line for Aunt Rob's
+house, and his knock at the door was instantly answered by her and
+Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I bring good news,&quot; said Dick, in a cheery tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have found her!&quot; cried Aunt Rob, quivering with excitement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I have found her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank God--oh, thank God!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson, pale as death, grasped Dick's hand, and in a husky
+voice asked, &quot;Is she well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite well--and waiting to see you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob threw on her bonnet and mantle. &quot;Here's your hat, father,&quot;
+she said, almost breathless, &quot;we must go to her at once. Come, Dick,
+come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stop a minute,&quot; he said, laying his hand on her arm, &quot;I have
+something to tell you first.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't want to hear anything,&quot; she cried, sternly. &quot;I want my
+child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let Dick speak,&quot; said Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then Dick related all that Florence had told him, and their joy at
+recovering their daughter was so great that they had no word of
+reproach for her. The dear child was found, and they would be once
+more re-united. What more could they desire?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They must come here this very day, father,&quot; said Aunt Rob. &quot;This is
+their home till they get one of their own.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He nodded, and the fond parents, accompanied by Dick, hastened to the
+dear one, with love and forgiveness in their hearts. When they were
+all together in Florence's room he stood apart, a silent witness of
+the joyful meeting. How the parents embraced and wept over their
+child, how she clung to them and kissed them, and entreated them to
+believe that her love for them was stronger than it had ever been!
+Aunt Rob's tearful eyes shone with gladness; her one ewe lamb was
+restored to her; a sacred joy stirred their hearts at this re-union.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, when their agitation had somewhat subsided, and they had stepped
+in softly to see Reginald, who was still asleep, came the question of
+his removal.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It must be left to the doctor,&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;When do you expect
+him, Florence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is coming to-night, between eight and nine o'clock,&quot; she answered,
+and added, with a wistful look, &quot;we are very poor, father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You share with us, my dear,&quot; was his ready response. &quot;All we have is
+yours. Mother, it is hardly likely he can be removed for a day or two.
+You will stay with Florence to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And every night,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;till we get her home. I don't let
+her out of my sight. Dick, what are you looking so glum for?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Am I looking glum?&quot; he said, striving to speak cheerfully. &quot;I was not
+aware of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Dick!&quot; said Florence, stepping to his side. &quot;How can we thank
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will do, that will do,&quot; he said. &quot;As if anybody in my place
+wouldn't have done the same! I must be off now--a thousand things to
+attend to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pop into the office between eight and nine for a chat,&quot; said Uncle
+Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All right, uncle, I'll be there,&quot; answered Dick, waving goodbye to
+the happy group.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was glad to get away, to think of the work before him. The search
+in Samuel Boyd's house for the body of Abel Death must be made
+to-night; it might be the last opportunity he would have to do so
+secretly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must dodge the police, and I must get in early,&quot; he thought. &quot;At
+nine I will have a chat with Uncle Rob, at ten I'll be in Catchpole
+Square. My mind is in a state of muddle. Let me see how the case
+stands in respect of dates and the consecutive order of events. To
+save confusion I will jot them down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taking a small memorandum book from his pocket he halted at a street
+corner, and made the following entries:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Friday, 1st March</i>.--Abel Death discharged by Samuel Boyd. He pays a
+visit to Catchpole Square at about ten o'clock to beg Boyd to take him
+back into his service. Reginald's two visits to the house, the first
+in the afternoon, the second late at night, hour unknown. In his haste
+to get away on the second occasion he drops in the passage the key of
+the street door. Samuel Boyd murdered. Query--Did Abel Death and
+Reginald meet? Would it be advisable, when Reginald is in his right
+senses, to ask him about this?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Saturday, 2nd March</i>.--Mrs. Death goes to Catchpole Square to obtain
+news of her husband. Unsuccessful. Good reason for it. Dead men tell
+no tales. Reginald back in his lodgings, in bed, delirious. The events
+of the previous night being fresh in his mind, it is likely he raved
+about them. Query--Who attended to him? His landlady. Did she hear
+anything that would furnish a clue, and will this occur to her when
+the murder is discovered?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Sunday, 3d March</i>.--Mrs. Death repeats her visits to Catchpole
+Square. Same result. Same reason for it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Monday, 4th March</i>.--Mrs. Death continues her visits to Catchpole
+Square.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Tuesday, 5th March</i>.--The day of the great fog. My conversation with
+Uncle Rob in the police station. Mrs. Death and Gracie are brought in.
+Her story. Florence leaves home secretly to nurse Reginald. Fearing
+that he is dying, and gathering from his ravings that he wishes to see
+his father, she goes to Catchpole Square after midnight. She is seen
+by the police and drops her handkerchief, which Constable Pond picks
+up. My conversation with Applebee. He tells me that Pond has a room to
+let. I reconnoitre Samuel Boyd's house, and determine to force an
+entrance next night. Only one way of getting in, by means of rope and
+grapnel.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Wednesday, 6th March</i>.--At the police court with Mrs. Death and
+Gracie. I write par. for 'L. B. B.' I take lodgings in Pond's house,
+and obtain possession of Florence's handkerchief. Visit Aunt Rob, and
+learn particulars of Florence's flight. I purchase rope and grapnel. I
+visit Mrs. Death. No news of her husband. Make the acquaintance of Dr.
+Vinsen. He gives Mrs. Death two pounds. Why should he be so generous?
+At one in the morning I get over dead wall, and into Samuel Boyd's
+house. Discovery of the murder. Find Samuel Boyd's written accusation
+of his son. Pocket it. Find Reginald's key to street door. Pocket it.
+Things look black.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Thursday, 7th March</i>--Visit Aunt Rob. Receive letter from Florence.
+Go to her. Fetch Aunt and Uncle Rob. Leave them together. Things look
+blacker.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Replacing the memorandum book in his pocket he became conscious that
+he was being observed. Looking up he saw the sleepy eyes of Dr. Vinsen
+fixed upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My dear young friend,&quot; said the doctor, with an amused smile, &quot;I
+have been observing you for quite three minutes, and wondering what
+engrossing task you were engaged upon to make you oblivious of
+passers-by. An effort of literature--a poem--an inspiration? I envy
+the literary character. So free, so untrammelled by the ordinary
+circumstances of our prosaic existence! It soars on the wings of
+imagination into fairy realms--in-to fai-ry realms. Who knows that
+you have not in your pocket&quot;--he tapped Dick's breast with a light
+finger--&quot;something that will open our minds to noble truths? Who
+knows--who knows?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>I</i> know,&quot; said Dick. &quot;If an account of how many socks, and collars,
+and handkerchiefs I have sent to the wash will elevate mankind I am
+sure I have no objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A washing account,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with a gentle laugh. &quot;Dear,
+dear, dear! But romance and mystery may be found even in commonplace
+matters. Look around. Observe the men and women who are passing us.
+What secrets are hidden in their breasts? In yours? In mine? It occurs
+to me at this moment to inquire whether mystery is the offspring of
+romance, or romance the offspring of mystery?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You can take your choice,&quot; said Dick, attempting to shake Dr. Vinsen
+off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Can</i> one take one's choice?&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, walking by Dick's
+side, and ignoring his companion's distaste for his society. &quot;Is it
+open to us to do so? Are we free agents? Are we not rather like boats
+on a strange sea, with hidden currents that whirl us on, and
+occasionally bring destruction upon us--des-truc-tion up-on us? Do you
+happen to be aware if the missing man has returned to the bosom of his
+family?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not aware of it. I should consider it very unlikely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you have a theory concerning his mysterious disappearance.&quot; Dick
+shook his head sullenly. &quot;No? Perhaps you are right not to trouble
+yourself. I perceive that you are not in the mood for conversation. My
+dear young friend, I take my leave. If I can be of any service, pray
+command me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So saying, Dr. Vinsen raised his hat, affording the world a view of
+his bald head and his halo, and slowly ambled away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Confound you!&quot; said Dick, looking after him. &quot;Why did you raise your
+hat to me? I am not that kind of man, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His mind was in a state to magnify and distort the simplest matters.
+To such an extent that the voice of a newsboy shouting in an adjoining
+street caused him to hurry in that direction to buy a paper. There was
+nothing in it touching the murder, and he crumpled it up and threw it
+into the road So he idled away the time until a few minutes before
+nine, when he entered the Bishop Street Police Station, where his
+uncle expected him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Dick, my lad,&quot; said Inspector Robson, &quot;things have taken a turn
+since our talk the night before last.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They have, indeed,&quot; returned Dick, and thought, &quot;If you knew all!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It has been a terrible time,&quot; said the inspector, &quot;and we owe you
+what we can never repay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when
+she asked me? Did you stop long with her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's
+over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that
+Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard
+lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen
+Mrs. Death and her little girl?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied Dick, &quot;I have been twice to their lodgings, and
+they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great
+poverty--there are seven little children----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor creature! How's the little girl?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly
+turned up, and a doctor is attending her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you ever heard of him, uncle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never; he must be a kind gentleman, and I'm glad such a piece of good
+fortune has fallen to Mrs. Death's share. I wish we could find her
+husband for her. Dick, now that Reginald is connected with us, a watch
+ought to be kept on the house in Catchpole Square. Constable Applebee
+says it looks as if it was quite deserted. If it remains so a day or
+two longer I shall consider what is best to be done. Abel Death and
+Mr. Boyd are mixed up together in my mind, and some steps should be
+taken to clear the mystery. You remember what you said about
+murder--do you still hold to it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was an awkward question, and Dick gave an evasive reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You might have a look round Catchpole Square yourself, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will do so,&quot; said Dick, and soon afterwards took his departure.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_25" href="#div1Ref_25">LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A fine starlight night, and the weather fair all over England,
+especially in Bournemouth where, in their beautiful estate, The
+Gables, Lord and Lady Wharton are giving their yearly ball. The air is
+soft and balmy in this favoured southern retreat, and though it is too
+early yet for the rhododendrons, the gardens are bright with flowers.
+Guests are riding to The Gables from all parts of the county, for this
+annual function is eagerly looked forward to by the belles and beaus
+of Hampshire. At eleven o'clock they begin to arrive, and by midnight
+the nineteenth century revelry is at its full height; at which hour my
+Lady Wharton, deeming that she has done her society duty, ceases to
+receive at the top of the grand staircase, and strolls into the
+grounds to welcome her tardy friends. Lord Wharton, happily
+convalescent, but still weak, and, as some whisper, not so strong in
+his intellect as he might be, is in the card room, where, propped up
+by cushions, he is entertaining a few choice guests by dropping his
+guineas to them. My lady's brother, Lord Fairfax, has also contributed
+to their entertainment, and, feeling that he has done <i>his</i> duty, he
+also strolls into the grounds, and flirts. He is in his fourth decade,
+a handsome gentleman with a blonde moustache, and has not yet made his
+choice in the matrimonial market; therefore he is gladly welcomed by
+all the spring beauties here assembled. But he is not an assiduous
+cavalier, and being weary of most things, is soon weary of languishing
+glances. Standing by a tiny fountain my lady watches him until he
+joins her there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They do these things better on the Continent,&quot; he says languidly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Some hostesses would have misunderstood him, but she knows he refers
+to the fountain, and she nods assent. His conversational powers are
+not remarkable, so he allows her to rattle on for his amusement,
+putting in an occasional monosyllable as his contribution.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you leave Wharton in the card room?&quot; she asks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he drawls, and hazards three consecutive words. &quot;Your friend
+arrived?&quot; It is not a question in which he seems to take more than a
+momentary interest. He does everything languidly; even when he raises
+his white fingers to caress his moustache, which has been the business
+of his life, it is done as though the effort were a tax upon his
+physical powers. This, to many of the opposite sex, is one of his
+charms.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not yet,&quot; my lady answers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By the way,&quot; he says, and either forgets what he was going to say, or
+finds the effort of a long sentence too great.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were going to speak about the old bills?&quot; she asks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wrote to him to bring them to-night. I can't imagine how I forgot
+to ask him for them when I gave him the new acceptances you and
+Wharton signed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not--business--woman,&quot; he observed, with a pause between each word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be ridiculous, Fairfax,&quot; she protested, with a merry laugh.
+&quot;Not a business woman? I should like to know what would become of
+Wharton if I were not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Floored,&quot; said Lord Fairfax.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed he would be. And don't I manage <i>you?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Difficult?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not at all. You are the dearest fellow! I shall be almost ashamed to
+ask you for another cheque to-morrow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't. Stumped&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Next week, then?&quot; He nods. She casts a critical look around. &quot;Our
+most brilliant gathering, I think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Jolly,&quot; he says, and, being by this time exhausted, he leaves her at
+the fountain, where, presently, she is joined by other guests, with
+whom she carries on an animated conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The grounds, with their thousands of coloured lights, are dotted with
+the attractive dresses of the ladies and the soberer costume of the
+gentlemen. Pleasure shows its smiling face, and doors are shut upon
+black care. No face brighter than that of Lady Wharton, none more free
+from the least suspicion of anxiety. Her hearty voice rings out, an
+invitation to mirth and gaiety. And yet as time wears on there is an
+anxious thought in her mind. &quot;Why does the man not come?&quot; she thinks.
+&quot;He promised to be here faithfully, and it must be now nearly one
+o'clock.&quot; She consults a jewelled watch. &quot;Yes, it is--one o'clock.&quot;
+The fact is, my lady is pressed for money, and she is expecting to
+receive a thousand pounds to-night in ready cash, half of which must
+go to her dressmaker in the morning. For, come what may, my lady must
+be dressed. So she stands at the fountain, and taps her foot
+impatiently. Soft gleaming lights, fair sky with its panoply of stars
+and bright moon shining, sounds of rippling laughter, gay forms
+gliding and flitting through the lacework of the trees: a fairy scene,
+made not less beautiful by the dark spaces wherein the pines, their
+topmost branches silvered by the moon, stand apart, picturesque
+sentinels of the night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To my lady a liveried footman, who presents a card. She moves into the
+light to read it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At last!&quot; she says. &quot;Where is the man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is waiting to see you, my lady.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She follows the servant, and steps into the shadow of a cluster of
+trees.</p>
+<br>
+
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * *</h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">What connection is there between that gay scene in Bournemouth and
+this more sombre scene in Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square,
+where, an hour after midnight, Dick moves in search of the body of
+Abel Death? The invisible links are in the air. Will they ever be
+brought to light and united to form another chain in the mystery?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick's search has lasted two hours, and has been conducted with care
+and patience. It is not alone traces of Abel Death he seeks for; he
+searches for anything in the shape of incriminating evidence against
+Reginald, his intention being to take possession of it, and by-and-by,
+perhaps, destroy it. That by so doing he will be committing a
+felonious act and frustrating the course of justice does not trouble
+him. He is working for Florence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first room he lingers in is that in which Samuel Boyd lies. No
+change there. The bed is still occupied by that silent, awful figure,
+cold and dead. Incapable of aught for good or evil as it is, it
+exercises a powerful influence over him. He dreads to approach it, and
+it draws him to its side. He steals from the room, shuddering, and,
+closing the door, breathes more freely at the barrier between them;
+but ever and anon, for some time afterwards, he casts a startled look
+over his shoulder, as though expecting to see a phantom standing
+there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The ghostly moon shines through the windows which are unshuttered, and
+knowing now, from what Inspector Robson said, that an intermittent
+watch is being kept upon the house, he dare not in those rooms carry a
+light. In the rooms with shuttered windows he risks a lighted candle,
+but holds it close to the floor and moves it warily from spot to spot,
+and shades it with his hand, in order to lessen the chance of its
+glimmer being seen from without. This makes his task more difficult,
+and there are moments when he almost regrets having undertaken it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The wax figure of the Chinaman is still in its chair, holding in its
+hand the stick of the reign of Charles the Second. The chair is
+old-fashioned, too, having a grandmother's hood to it, so that the
+Chinaman sits, as it were, in a cosy alcove, only those standing in
+front of the figure being able to obtain a full view of its face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick finds no further incriminating evidence against Reginald than
+that which he appropriated on his last visit. He makes, however, a
+curious discovery. He has examined every room with the exception of a
+small room on the same floor as the office, against the outer wall of
+which is placed the grand piano. The door of this room opens into the
+passage, and it is locked. His diligent search is rewarded by finding
+the key of the door, which he opens. The room is simply furnished, a
+table and two wooden chairs being all that it contains. A large
+cupboard with folding doors is fixed to the wall, and by pressing a
+spring he loosens one of these doors. The cupboard is bare of shelves,
+and affords ample space for a man to stand upright in. There is a
+sliding panel at the back, about three feet from the floor, and just
+wide enough for a man to squeeze through. He is surprised to see that
+the sliding panel leads to the interior of the grand piano, which is
+quite hollow and contains no wire or wood-work of any kind. The open
+space is large enough for a man to lie down in, though not without
+discomfort. The key of the piano is in the inner part of the lock, and
+by removing this any person concealed there could see into the office,
+and could certainly hear any sounds of voices or movements made
+therein, the watcher being so shrouded in darkness as to be quite safe
+from observation. &quot;Another of Samuel Boyd's tricks,&quot; thinks Dick, &quot;for
+spying upon his clerks.&quot; To verify this he returns to the office, and
+satisfies himself that he has arrived at the correct explanation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he stands pondering over this curious discovery, which in the end
+he dismisses from his mind as of no importance, he finds himself
+mechanically counting the bottles of wine stacked against another part
+of the wall. It is done idly, and without meaning, but he does not
+forget that there are seventy-six bottles, with the crusted dust of
+years upon them. &quot;Port wine, I should say,&quot; he thinks. &quot;I should like
+half a pint.&quot; But he does not yield to the temptation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At three in the morning his search is at an end. He can do nothing
+more. He has met with no traces of Abel Death, and he has not found an
+additional clue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must keep my own counsel,&quot; he mutters. &quot;If Abel Death turns up will
+it be for good or ill? His absence lays him open to suspicion, but it
+is altogether a case of circumstantial evidence. Supposing him to be
+caught, tried, and convicted, and he an innocent man----!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He cannot pursue this supposition to its just conclusion. The image of
+Florence presents itself, her hands stretched out, appealing to him to
+save Reginald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a sinking heart, and using every precaution to escape
+observation, he succeeds in getting out of the office by the front
+entrance. Oppressed by the conviction that he must now wait for the
+course of events, and that he is powerless to direct them, he is
+walking out of Deadman's Court when the voice of Constable Applebee
+falls upon his ears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thought it was you, sir,&quot; said the constable. &quot;Have you been
+looking at the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replies Dick, pulling himself together, &quot;from the outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course from the outside, sir,&quot; says Constable Applebee. &quot;I should
+like to have a look at it from the inside. People are beginning to
+talk about it. It's seven days now since anybody's set eyes on Mr.
+Boyd, and seven days since Mr. Abel Death disappeared. That's what I
+call a coincidence. I hope it's nothing more than that. Hope you're
+comfortable in your new lodgings, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite comfortable, thank you. I must be off to them now. Good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good night, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick is by this time thoroughly tired out, and when he reaches his
+room is glad to tumble into bed.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_26" href="#div1Ref_26">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Two days afterwards, that is, on the 9th of March, some hours after
+the morning papers were in circulation, all London was ringing with
+the news of the mysterious murder in Catchpole Square. The name of
+Samuel Boyd was on every tongue; the newsboys shouted it out raucously
+and jubilantly, with the full force of their lungs, and the wind
+carried it into all the highways and byeways of the vast metropolis;
+it was printed on the variously coloured waybills of the newspapers in
+scarlet letters, green letters, yellow letters, as large as the width
+of the sheets permitted; it was read aloud and discussed in omnibuses,
+in public-house bars, in the workshops and places of business; it was
+bandied about, tossed in the air, caught up and passed on,
+embellished, illustrated and exaggerated, and rolled over the tongue
+as the most tempting of tempting morsels. Editorial offices were alive
+with it, their swing doors had not a moment's rest, the whole of the
+staff were on the <i>qui vive</i>, reporters hurried this way and that in
+their hunt for facts, fanciful or otherwise, that had the remotest
+connection, or no connection at all, with the name of the murdered man
+and the circumstances of the murder, as far as they were known. Now
+was the chance for the descriptive writer, for the youthful aspirants
+for journalistic fame, for the enterprising interviewer. Things had
+been rather dull lately. There had been no stirring crime, no
+bloodthirsty deed, no sensational trial, no tremendous conflagration,
+no awful shipwreck, no colliery explosion, no terrible railway
+collision, for quite a week, and circulation was languishing. But here
+at last was a dish of hot spice to stir the blood, to set tongues
+wagging, to fire the imagination, to make the pulses glow. A murder!
+And such a murder! Dark, thrilling, impenetrable, inscrutable,
+enveloped in delicious mystery. What is one man's meat is another
+man's poison, and Samuel Boyd, who had never in life given a beggar a
+penny or the price of a meal to a starving man, was the means, in
+death, of filling many a platter and frothing up many a pewter pot.
+Trade revived. People spent more, drank more, smoked more, went to the
+music-halls and theatres more, for it was impossible to keep still
+with such an excitement in the air. See the radiant faces of the
+ragged street urchins as they shout it out and dispose of their
+sheets, and are not asked for change of a penny--see the journalistic
+scouts as they follow the trail, true trail, false trail, any
+trail--see the crowds in Fleet Street and the Strand and all the
+narrow thoroughfares leading riverwards--see the smart newspaper
+carts, with their dapper ponies flying north, south, east, and west
+with their latest editions--see the travellers on the tops of
+omnibuses throwing down their coppers and bending over to seize the
+papers--see the railway bookstalls besieged by eager buyers, who,
+rushing to catch a train, pick up half a dozen different journals, in
+the hope of finding in one of them two or three lines of different
+import from those contained in all the others--see the men standing at
+street corners, running their eyes down the columns, animated by a
+similar hope--see the telegraph wires, blind and deaf to human
+passion, carrying the message of murder, murder, murder, on their
+hundreds of miles of silent tongues--see the envy of the hawkers of
+wax matches, penny toys, and bone shirt studs, as they watch the
+roaring trade that is being done by the busy armies of tag, rag, and
+bobtail, who form the distributing street agency of journalistic
+literature, and wish that heaven had sent them such a bit of luck.
+Sold out again, Jack! Hurrah! Fly off for another quire. As good as a
+Derby Day, Bill! As good? Ten times better! Where are &quot;all the
+winners&quot; now? Shorn of their glory they sink into the background, and
+no small punter so poor to do them reverence? What are &quot;all the
+winners&quot; to a rattling spicy murder?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Never had &quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; more fully justified its title than
+on the present occasion. A daring scheme had suggested itself to one
+of the members of the staff, which had been crowned with success.
+Ahead of all its rivals it was the first to publish the exciting news,
+and needless to say it made the most of its golden opportunity. The
+office was besieged; it was like a Jubilee Day. Men and boys fought
+and scrambled for the copies as the steam presses belched them forth,
+and selling them out before they reached the wider thoroughfares,
+rushed back for more. The day was Saturday, and the whirling tumult
+lasted till midnight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The manner of &quot;The Little Busy Bee's&quot; buzzing in its preliminary
+editions was as follows: First, a quotation in large type from
+&quot;Macbeth.&quot; &quot;And one cried, Murder!&quot; Then half a column of the usual
+sensational headings. Then the account of the daring scheme and the
+discovery in the following fashion:</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_27" href="#div1Ref_27">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Special and exclusive information has just reached us of</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Remarkable and Ghastly Murder</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="continue">in the North of London, and we hasten to lay the particulars before
+the public. It will be fresh in the recollection of our readers that
+in our Tuesday's editions we drew attention to a blind thoroughfare in
+that neighbourhood, known as Catchpole Square, to which the only
+access is through a hooded passage, bearing the ominous and
+significant designation of Deadman's Court. On that morning a poor
+woman, accompanied by her little daughter, whose pallid face and
+emaciated appearance evoked general sympathy, made an application to
+the magistrate at the Bishop Street Police Court respecting the
+mysterious disappearance of her husband, Mr. Abel Death. It appears
+that this man was a clerk in the employ of Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square, and that on Friday evening last he was summarily
+discharged by his employer. He was in needy circumstances and he came
+home to his lodgings in a very desponding frame of mind, for the loss
+of his situation spelt ruin to his family. In this desperate strait he
+left his wife at between nine and ten o'clock on the same night, with
+the intention, as she stated, of making an appeal to Mr. Boyd to take
+him back into his service. From that hour to this nothing has been
+heard of him. Neither has anything been heard of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who,
+it may be premised, is supposed to be a man of great wealth, and is
+described by some of his neighbours as a money-lender, by others as a
+miser. Credence is given to the latter description by the fact that he
+lived quite alone, and kept no servants in his house, such domestic
+services as he required being performed by a charwoman who attended
+only when she was sent for.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mrs. Death's application at the police court having been made public
+through the medium of our columns it was a reasonable presumption that
+it would have come to the notice of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and that he would
+have sent a communication either to the distracted wife or to the
+newspapers, stating if Abel Death visited him on Friday night, and if
+so, at what hour he left. But Mr. Boyd made no sign. The woman said
+that she had been several times to the house in Catchpole Square, and
+had received no response to her knocking at the street door. Nothing
+was seen of either of the men, and it is probable that nothing would
+have been known for a considerable time had it not been for the bold
+action taken by a valued member of our staff, to whose love of
+adventure we have been frequently indebted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We may state at once that this gentleman acted entirely upon his own
+initiative, and that we accept the full responsibility of his
+proceedings, and are prepared to defend them. It may be objected in
+some quarters that he took upon himself duties which did not fall
+within his province. We will not at present argue the point. There was
+a dark mystery; there were rumours of foul play; hidden from public
+gaze stood a house which contained the evidence of</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>A Terrible Tragedy;</i></p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="continue">futile endeavours had been made to obtain entrance into this house;
+the police did not act, probably because they had no authority to act.
+What followed? That the press stepped in, and by a bold stroke</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Laid a Foul Crime Bare</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;History records how officers high in command on land and sea, but not
+invested with complete authority, have disobeyed orders and won great
+victories. Success justified them. Success justifies us.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We come now to details.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In his endeavour to ascertain whether a search of Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house would afford a clue to the silence of its proprietor and to the
+disappearance of Abel Death, our reporter ran the risk of being
+arrested for burglary. Except that he did not get in by the front door
+we do not propose just now to disclose how he obtained an entrance
+into the open space at the back; sufficient that he did obtain it, and
+that at ten o'clock this morning he found himself in an enclosed yard
+at the rear of the house. The merest examination of this part of the
+premises satisfied him that some person, probably a more experienced
+burglar, had been before him. The back door was locked and bolted, but
+a window sill and the panes of glass above had been smashed in, and
+there were signs that the person who had done this had entered the
+house through the window. To reach the sill the first burglar had
+stood upon a rickety bench which had apparently given way beneath him.
+Our reporter managed to put this together in a sufficiently firm
+manner to afford him a temporary foothold. Then, with an upward
+spring, he got his hands upon the sill, and scrambled through the
+window into a small unfurnished room. He did not effect this violent
+entrance without noise, but there were no indications that his
+movements had disturbed any person in the house, which was silent as
+the grave. His next task was to examine the rooms, all the doors of
+which were unlocked. He proceeded with great caution, and at length
+reached an apartment which, from the fact of its containing a writing
+table, desk, and safe, he concluded was the office in which Mr. Boyd
+conducted his business affairs, although, from the singular collection
+of articles scattered about, it might have been the shop of a dealer
+in miscellaneous goods, comprising as they did several dozens of wine,
+old tapestry and armour, pictures, valuable china, a grand piano, and,
+strangest of all, the wax figure of a Chinaman which might have come
+straight from Madame Tussaud's exhibition. Our reporter confesses to a
+feeling of alarm when he first saw this figure, the back of which was
+towards him, and, while it did not lessen his surprise, it was with
+relief he ascertained its real nature. Up to this point, however,
+strange as were the objects which met his eyes, he had seen nothing to
+warrant his breaking into the house. The safe was locked, and there
+was no appearance of its having been tampered with; with the exception
+of the broken window at the back of the house, there were no signs of
+disorder in any part of it, and he began to doubt the wisdom of his
+proceedings. He was not to remain long in doubt; he was on the
+threshold of</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>An Appalling Discovery</i>.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are three doors in the apartment in which he stood. One leading
+to the passage, one on the left, and one on the right. This last door
+opened into a bedroom, which he entered. Seeing the form of a human
+being in the bed he retreated, uncertain how to act. Then he called
+softly, and receiving no answer spoke in a louder tone, and still
+received no answer. Mustering up courage he approached the bed,
+stepping very gently, and laid his hand on the man's shoulder. The
+silence continuing he turned down the bedclothes. The man was dead!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In view of the proceedings he had determined to take our reporter
+last night obtained from a policeman a personal description of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, and he had no difficulty in identifying the features of
+the dead man. They were those of Abel Death's employer, and from
+certain marks on his throat he came to the conclusion that Mr. Boyd
+had been murdered by strangulation. The position of the furniture did
+not denote that a struggle had taken place on the floor of the
+bedroom, and the reasonable conclusion is that Mr. Boyd had been
+strangled in his sleep. After the deed was done the murderer must have
+composed the limbs of his victim, and arranged the bedclothes over the
+body, in order, probably, to make it appear that Mr. Boyd had died a
+natural death. The shortsightedness of this proceeding is a singular
+feature in this ruthless crime, for it is scarcely possible that the
+marks on his throat could escape detection, or that the strangulation
+could have been effected without some violent efforts on the part of
+the victim to save himself, whereby the bedclothes must have been
+tossed about.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The silence of Mr. Samuel Boyd on the subject of the disappearance of
+Abel Death is now accounted for; the disappearance of Abel Death has
+yet to be explained. We make no comment. From this hour the matter is
+in the hands of the police, who will doubtless set all the machinery
+of Scotland Yard in motion to discover the murderer and bring him to
+justice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A circumstance remains to be mentioned which may furnish a clue.
+Before he left the house to give information to the police our
+reporter's attention was attracted by certain dark stains on the floor
+of the bedroom and the office. They bear the appearance of having been
+made by a man's feet. Our reporter traced these dark stains from the
+office into the passage, and from the passage down a staircase leading
+to the small room which our reporter first entered through the broken
+window. There they end. The mystery is deepened by the fact that there
+are no marks of blood on the clothes of the bed in which the murdered
+man lies. Our reporter scraped off a portion of the stains, which we
+have placed in the hands of an experienced analyst, in order to
+ascertain whether they are stains of human blood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An important question, yet to be decided, is, when the murder was
+committed. Our reporter is of the opinion that it was perpetrated
+several days ago. The evidence of doctors will be of value here. We
+understand that no person in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square has
+seen Mr. Boyd since last Friday evening. From Mrs. Death's evidence at
+the Bishop Street Police Court we gather that her husband has not been
+seen since that day. The presumption is that the murder was committed
+on Friday night. Much depends upon the discovery of Abel Death and
+upon the explanation he will be able to give of his movements. It is
+understood that Mr. Boyd leaves one son, his only child, who is now in
+London.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We shall continue to issue editions of 'The Little Busy Bee' until
+midnight, in which further particulars will be given of this strange
+and most mysterious murder.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_28" href="#div1Ref_28">THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson, being on night duty, was not present at the Bishop
+Street Police Station when the reporter of &quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; gave
+information of the murder. Aunt Rob had had a busy day; while
+admitting that her son-in-law was very weak, she insisted that he
+would have a greater chance of getting well in a short time if he were
+removed from his lodgings to their home. &quot;It's his proper place,&quot; she
+said, &quot;and I won't rest till I get him there.&quot; She argued with the
+doctor, one of the old school, who shook his head; she continued to
+argue with him, and he continued to shake his head. This exasperated
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose, doctor,&quot; she said, with freezing politeness, &quot;you won't
+allow that women ought to have opinions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not medical opinions,&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He may shake his head till he shakes it off,&quot; she said privately to
+Uncle Rob, &quot;but he won't convince <i>me</i>.&quot; He smiled an admission of
+this declaration. &quot;And look at Florence,&quot; she continued; &quot;the poor
+girl is being worn to skin and bone. We shall have her down
+presently.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But is it safe to move him, mother?&quot; asked Florence, who, next to
+Reginald's recovery to health, desired nothing so much as a return to
+the dear old home.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My darling child,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;when did you know me to be wrong?
+Ask father how much I've cost him for doctors since we've been
+married. I nursed you through the whooping cough and scarlatina
+without a doctor, and are you any the worse for it? I know as much as
+a good many of them by this time. There are some doctors who won't
+allow you to suggest a single thing. The moment you do they're up in
+arms. 'What business have <i>you</i> to know?' they think. This is one of
+that kind. Reginald is my son now, and I'm doing by him as I'd do by
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The upshot was, all preparations being made, that Reginald was moved
+on Saturday morning, and bore the removal well. When Florence saw him
+sleeping calmly in her own room she cried for joy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's like old times, mother,&quot; she said, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob smiled a little sadly; when a daughter is married it can
+never be again quite like old times in the home in which she was born
+and reared. Something is missing, something gone. It is not that the
+old love is dead, but that a new love is by its side, with new hopes,
+and mayhap new fears, to make up the fulness of life. The mother looks
+back upon her own young days, and realises now what she did not think
+of then, that the child she nestled at her bosom is going through the
+changes she has experienced; and so, if her daughter is happily mated,
+she thanks God--but now and then a wistful sigh escapes her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the afternoon Dick came to see them, and they chatted in the
+sitting room in which they had passed so many happy hours. He was not
+in a bright mood; dreading every minute that the murder would be
+discovered and made public, he felt that it would be almost a relief
+when the cloud burst, as burst it must before long. Knowing what he
+knew, the suspense was maddening.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Dick,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;I've got something to say to you.
+Reginald and Florence are here, as you know, but that doesn't make any
+difference in your room. There it is, ready for you, as it has been
+all through, and I shall begin to think there's some secret reason for
+your keeping away from us if you don't occupy it at once. I'll take no
+denial, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us wait a bit, aunt,&quot; said Dick. &quot;I'll sleep here now and then,
+and take my meals here, but it wouldn't be fair to Mrs. Pond for me to
+run away after having been in her house only a few days. So, like the
+kind dear soul that you are, let it remain as it is for a little
+while. What's that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was a newsboy shouting at the top of his voice, and selling copies
+of &quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; as fast as he could hand them out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's a murder!&quot; cried Aunt Rob. &quot;And do you hear that? Hark!
+'Horrible discovery!' Merciful heavens! 'Catchpole Square!' Where
+Reginald's father lives!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The two men ran out of the house like mad, and were just in time to
+tear the last copy from the boy's hands. A glance at the headlines was
+sufficient.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were right, Dick, you were right,&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;Samuel Boyd's
+murdered!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They looked at each other with white faces.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Found dead in his bed! Strangled! We must keep it from them at home,
+Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Impossible, uncle. Listen--there's another boy shouting it out.
+Let's get back to the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They read as they walked, Uncle Rob holding the paper, and Dick
+looking over his shoulder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it--what is it?&quot; cried Aunt Rob, meeting them in the passage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it's true, it's murder,&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;Come into the room, and
+shut the door. Speak low. Is Florence upstairs?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. Wait a minute.&quot; She stepped softly to the room above, and
+quickly returned. &quot;Reginald is dozing, and Florence has fallen asleep
+in her chair. The poor child is tired out. Murder! Where? In Catchpole
+Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald's father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot; She uttered a cry of horror. &quot;I must go to the office at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick! You're not going, too?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't stop, aunt. I must go with uncle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was in a fever of impatience to get out of the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do what you can, mother, to keep it from Florence,&quot; said Uncle Rob,
+hurriedly. &quot;If it comes to her ears tell her we've gone to see about
+it. Now, then, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Leave me the paper, father. How horrible! How horrible!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here it is; don't let Florence see it. We'll get another as we go
+along.&quot; As they hastened to Bishop Street Station he said, &quot;This is a
+bad business, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A frightful business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wonder if Mr. Boyd made a will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, I wonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If he hasn't his money falls to Reginald. The chances are, though,
+that there's a will, disinheriting him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you think so?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you?&quot; his uncle asked, in return.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know what to think. Time will show.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will show a good many things. It's got to show what has become of
+Abel Death. I'm sorry for his wife and that poor little girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm sorry for a good many people,&quot; said Dick. His uncle cast a
+hurried look at him. &quot;I don't mean anything. My head's in a whirl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No wonder. There's another boy shouting the news. Run after him and
+get a paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They both raced, and bought two copies. The boy's face was beaming.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's happy enough,&quot; said Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the police station they learned that two constables had been sent
+to Catchpole Square to ascertain whether the news was true.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've given them instructions,&quot; said the day inspector, &quot;if they can't
+get into the house by the front door, to scale the wall at the back. I
+can't say I like the way this case has been got up. Those newspaper
+men are getting too meddlesome altogether.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But if it's true,&quot; suggested Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will make it all the worse for us,&quot; grumbled the day inspector.
+&quot;The next thing the papers will do will be to start a Scotland Yard of
+their own. The fact is, the police haven't got power enough; we
+daren't move without proof positive. It's all very well to talk of the
+liberty of the subject, but it's my opinion the subject's got more
+liberty than it has a right to have. I'll give you an instance. I know
+a man who is as mad as mad can be--a dangerous chap, with a
+bloodthirsty eye, carries knives, and looks at you as if he'd like to
+murder you. But we daren't touch him. Why? Because nobody charges him.
+When he sticks a knife into somebody we can lay our hands on him, but
+not till then; so we've got to wait till mischiefs done. Then they'll
+prove him mad, and he'll be made comfortable for life. There's this
+affair; the public will be down on us for not being the first to make
+the discovery. <i>We</i> can't move, but a newspaper man can. It's like
+taking the bread out of our mouths.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson made no comment, but offered advice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I were in your place I should send three or four more constables
+to Catchpole Square. Deadman's Court is a narrow thoroughfare, and
+there'll be a rush of people to stare at the house. There should be a
+guard back and front. I'm going there now to have a look round.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll send the men after you,&quot; said the day inspector, &quot;instanter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Off they hurried to Catchpole Square, where they found that a great
+many sight-seers had already gathered, of whom only a few at a time
+were allowed to enter to stare up at the windows of Samuel Boyd's
+house, a constable being stationed at the entrance of Deadman's Court
+to guard the passage. Inspector Robson asked this officer where the
+other constable was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Gone to the station, sir, for further instructions,&quot; replied the
+constable, whose name was Filey.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Simmons, sir. We was detailed together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you been in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did you get in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Over the wall, at the back. We borrowed a ladder, and Simmons mounted
+and got over, while I kept watch outside.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What did he find?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The body, sir, just as the paper describes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you get into the house the same way as Simmons?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir. He found the key of the street door hanging on a cord in Mr.
+Boyd's bedroom, and he came out that way and let me in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this point four constables from the station appeared on the scene,
+Applebee among them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who has the key of the street door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give it to me. I knew Mr. Boyd by sight, and so did you, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could pick him out of a thousand, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you, Dick, were intimately acquainted with him. We'll go in and
+see the body. By the way, Filey, was the street door chained and
+bolted when Simmons unlocked it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I never asked him. Here he is, sir; he can answer for himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Constable Simmons joined the group, and Inspector Robson repeated the
+question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Neither locked <i>nor</i> bolted, sir,&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson drew Dick aside, and said, &quot;That's a suspicious
+circumstance, Dick. The murderer got in by the back entrance, and got
+out by the front. I argue it this way. He gets in, he kills the man,
+he finds the key of the street door in the bedroom, he goes down,
+unchains, unbolts, and unlocks the door. He then returns to the
+bedroom and fastens the key on the cord, goes down again and lets
+himself out. It seems to prove that the murder was committed by a
+novice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick made no remark. He recollected that Mrs. Death had not said
+anything in the police station of Reginald's visit to his father in
+the afternoon, and of his having a second key to the street door. That
+information had been given exclusively to Dick by Mrs. Death in
+Draper's Mews; it would come out presently, of course, but he would
+not utter a word to throw the shadow of a suspicion on Reginald. &quot;A
+nice treacherous part I'm playing,&quot; he thought, &quot;but I must go on with
+it. God knows how things will turn out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were some twenty or thirty persons in the Square; a few were
+airing theories concerning the murder, and recalling other crimes as
+mysterious and thrilling; one man was boasting that he had seen every
+house in London in which a murder had been committed during the last
+forty years; the majority were silent, and appeared to derive a creepy
+enjoyment by simply staring at the walls and windows. A journalist was
+jotting down everything he heard that could be incorporated into an
+article. Two newspaper artists were sketching, and one of these came
+forward and asked Inspector Robson if he would kindly point out the
+window of the room in which the body was lying. He replied that he did
+not know. The other artist, observing that the Inspector had a key in
+his hand, inquired if it belonged to the house.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Key of the street door,&quot; said the inspector, whereupon the artist
+immediately took a sketch of it, and wrote beneath, &quot;Key of the Street
+Door by which the Murderer Made his Escape.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We go in for realism,&quot; he said, as with a few skilful touches he
+limned the faces of Inspector Robson, Constable Applebee, and Dick on
+his sketching pad. &quot;Nothing tickles the public so much as sketches
+from real life in pen and pencil. We live in a melodramatic age, and
+must go with the times. I belong to 'The Illustrated Afternoon.' Now I
+call these speaking likenesses. I take it you belong to the force, and
+are here upon official business. May I inquire your name, or shall I
+call it the Portrait of a Gentleman who Carried the Street Door Key?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With no good grace Inspector Robson gave his name, which was placed
+beneath his portrait. Then Applebee was asked for <i>his</i> name, and it
+was given more willingly. The worthy constable had no objection to his
+features appearing in &quot;The Illustrated Afternoon&quot;; the picture would
+be preserved in the family as an heirloom.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And yours?&quot; inquired the artist, of Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Private person,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you,&quot; said the artist, and wrote beneath the portrait, &quot;Private
+Person who, for Unexplained Reasons, Declined to Give his Name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The insertion of the key in the lock caused much excitement, and all
+the artillery of the press was brought to bear upon the inspector. The
+industrious journalists advanced cogent reasons why they should be let
+into the house; they begged, they clamoured, but they could not
+convince the obdurate inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very sorry, gentlemen,&quot; he said, &quot;but it can't be allowed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He could not, however, prevent them from obtaining a glimpse of the
+dark passage, and this glimpse was quite sufficient to enable them to
+give a vivid description of the walls, the staircase, and the umbrella
+stand with one umbrella in it, which the eagle eye of the smarter of
+the artists transferred like lightning to his pad. It was an
+interesting feature in his article, &quot;The Murdered Man's Umbrella.&quot;
+There was great disappointment among the group outside when the door
+was closed upon them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've been up these stairs often enough, Dick,&quot; said Inspector
+Robson. &quot;Take us to the room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His eyes opened wide when they reached the office, and both he and
+Constable Applebee stared around in amazement.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever see anything like this, Applebee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never, sir, out of a play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They spoke in hushed voices.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick could not have explained why he counted the bottles of wine. It
+was done mechanically, and without motive, but it gave him a surprise.
+&quot;Seventy-five bottles,&quot; he thought. &quot;I'll take my oath that when I
+counted them the night before last, there were seventy-six.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where's the bedroom, Dick?&quot; whispered the inspector.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick opened the door, and creeping in, they stood looking down upon
+the dead face. In this awful presence they were dumb. Stepping very
+softly they returned to the office. Then Inspector Robson spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's Samuel Boyd. What do you say, Applebee--do you recognise the
+features?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll swear to the man, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There can be no doubt of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The coroner must be informed. Go and see who's knocking at the street
+door, Applebee. Don't let any one in.&quot; The constable departed on his
+errand. &quot;It's a clear case, Dick. I wouldn't say so to any one but
+you, and we must keep our own counsel. The name of the murderer of
+Samuel Boyd is Abel Death. Now we know why he's keeping out of the
+way. He's got a long start of us. Here's Applebee coming back. Not a
+word. Who is it, Applebee?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mrs. Death and her little girl, sir. She's half distracted, and tried
+to force her way in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We've seen what we came to see,&quot; said Inspector Robson, &quot;and no
+person must be admitted into the house. You will keep in the Square
+to-night, Applebee. I'll put another man on your beat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very good, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The moment they emerged into the Square Gracie ran to Dick and took
+his hand. An infinite pity filled his heart as he looked down at her
+pallid, mournful face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's all right now, mother,&quot; she said, hoarsely. &quot;Dick'll stand up
+for us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it true, sir, is it true?&quot; cried Mrs. Death, a wild terror in her
+eyes. &quot;We've run here as fast as we could.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is unhappily true,&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then where's my husband? Do you know what they're saying? That he
+murdered Mr. Boyd! They lie--they lie! Oh, my God! Is there any
+justice in the world?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't make a disturbance, Mrs. Death,&quot; said Inspector Robson, very
+kindly. &quot;I am truly sorry for you, but you can do no good by coming
+here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where else should I come, sir?&quot; she asked, her tears falling fast.
+&quot;Mr. Boyd is the only man who can tell me what has become of my
+husband, and he's dead, you say. Who killed him? What a wicked
+world--oh what a wicked, wicked world! Haven't I enough to bear
+without this being thrown in my teeth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't take on so, mother,&quot; said Gracie, in a dull, apathetic voice,
+but Dick understood how great her inward suffering was by the
+convulsive twining of her little fingers round his. &quot;It's all right
+now we've got Dick. You're our friend, ain't you, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May they be struck down dead for their lies!&quot; sobbed Mrs. Death. &quot;How
+dare they, how dare they accuse my poor husband, who never raised his
+hand against a living creature!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do these people live in your neighbourhood?&quot; asked Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir; they do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They should be warned not to be so free with their tongues, or they
+may get themselves in trouble. Can you point them out?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can show them you,&quot; said Gracie, answering for her mother.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go with her,&quot; said Inspector Robson to Dick, in a low tone, &quot;and give
+her neighbours a caution. The poor woman has something yet worse in
+store for her. Then go home to Aunt Rob and Florence, and remain there
+to-night. They need a man's support and sympathy, and my duties will
+chain me to the office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, sir,&quot; said Gracie, whose sharp ears caught every word,
+&quot;you're ever so good to us.&quot; A sudden tightening of her hand on Dick's
+caused him to look up, and he saw Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have heard what has passed,&quot; said the doctor, addressing himself to
+Inspector Robson, &quot;and shall be glad to offer my services in the
+interests of humanity--the in-te-rests of hu-ma-ni-ty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who may you be, sir?&quot; inquired Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am Dr. Vinsen. Our friends here have some knowledge of me, I
+believe.&quot; He shed a benevolent smile around. &quot;This is a most shocking
+murder. It would be worth your while, Mr. Remington, if you could
+discover the perpetrator of the frightful crime, and so relieve this
+unfortunate woman's distress. It shall be done, madam, it shall be
+done. Rely upon me. Let not the criminal hope that his guilt can be
+for ever hidden. There is an All-seeing Eye--Divine justice will
+overtake him--will o-ver-take him. Is that the house in which the
+victim lies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A singular place for a man to live in--and die in. Now, my dear
+madam, if you wish me to admonish these slanderers I am ready to
+accompany you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick's going to speak to 'em,&quot; said Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick's going to speak to them. And you would rather Dick did it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, if you please, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, Dick it shall be. I have no doubt he will do it as well
+as myself--better, perhaps, he being a literary character.&quot; There was
+a faint twinkle in his sleepy eyes. &quot;But you have no objection to my
+walking a little way with your mother, I hope? Mr. Inspector, have you
+any opinion----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't ask me for opinions,&quot; interrupted Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon my indiscretion, but one's natural curiosity, you know. There
+will be an inquest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course there will be an inquest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course--<i>of</i> course. Good day, Mr. Inspector, I am greatly obliged
+to you. Now, my dear madam.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They walked out of Deadman's Court, Mrs. Death and Dr. Vinsen in
+front, Dick and Gracie in the rear, at whom now and then the doctor,
+his head over his shoulder, cast an encouraging smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you like him, Dick?&quot; asked Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I don't,&quot; he replied, &quot;and I don't know why.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>I</i> do,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;He's so slimy.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_29" href="#div1Ref_29">A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Draper's Mews and its purlieus were on fire with excitement, raised by
+a spark dropped by a vicious beetle-browed coster, whose chronic state
+for years past had been too much beer, and liquor of a worse kind.
+Mrs. Death's neighbours were by no means unfavourably disposed towards
+her and her family. The kindness of the poor to the poor is
+proverbial, and there is much less friction in the way of social
+scandal among the lower classes than among those of higher rank. This
+was exemplified in Draper's Mews, where the Death family had long
+resided, and had fought life's bitter battle in amity with all around
+them. Now and then, of course, small differences had cropped up, but
+they were soon got over, and there was no serious disturbance of
+friendly relations. To this happy state of things there was, however,
+an exception. It happened in this way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Two or three years ago, on a bright summer day, the beetle-browed
+coster wheeled his barrow through the poor neighbourhood, disposing of
+his stock of early cherries at fourpence the standard pound. Children
+who had a halfpenny or a penny to spare, beggared themselves
+incontinently, and walked about with cherry ear-rings dangling in
+their ears, while some made teapots with fruit and stalks, and
+refreshed themselves with imaginary cups of the finest leaf of China.
+Abel Death stood by, and looking at the children thought of his own,
+and fingered the few loose coppers in his pocket. Strange that fruit
+so tempting and young--the cherries were whitehearts, with the
+daintiest blush on their innocent cheeks--should have been destined to
+bring sorrow to the hearts of those who were dear to the poor clerk!
+But in this reflection we must not forget the apple in the Garden of
+Eden.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Unable to resist the temptation Abel Death bought half a pound of the
+pretty things, and had received and paid for them, when he noticed an
+ugly piece of lead at the bottom of the scale in which the fruit was
+weighed. What made the matter worse was that on the coster's barrow
+was displayed an announcement in blazing letters of vermilion, &quot;Come
+to the Honest Shop for Full Weight.&quot; Which teaches a lesson as to the
+faith we should place in boisterous professions. Abel Death
+remonstrated, the coster slanged and bullied, there was a row and a
+growling crowd, some of whom had been defrauded in like manner, and
+among the crowd an inspector of weights and measures, who, backed by a
+constable, forthwith brought before the magistrate the cheat, the
+barrow (the coster wheeling it), the innocent cherries, and the scales
+with the piece of lead attached to the wrong balance. The moving
+scene, with its animated audience laughing, babbling, explaining at
+the heels of the principal actors in the drama, was almost as good a
+show as a Punch and Judy. With tears in his eyes, which he wiped away
+with his cuff, the coster declared that he'd take his oath he didn't
+know how the piece of lead could have got on the bottom of the scale,
+all he could say was that some one who had a down on him must have put
+it there to get him in trouble, he'd like to find out the bloke, that
+he would, he'd make it hot for him; and, despite this whining defence,
+was fined, would not pay the fine, and went to prison for seven days,
+whimpering as he was led from the court, &quot;Wot's the use of a cove
+tryin' to git a honest livin'?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The result of this swift stroke of justice was a mortal enmity against
+Abel Death. He proclaimed a vendetta, and waited for his chance,
+meanwhile avenging himself by kicking and cuffing the younger members
+of the Death family when he met them, and encouraging his children to
+do the same. The chance came with the disappearance of Abel Death and
+the discovery of the murder of Samuel Boyd. Forthwith he set light to
+a fire which spread with startling rapidity, and he went about
+instilling his poison into the ears of Mrs. Death's neighbours. Hence
+her agony of mind.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick traced the rumours to their fountain head, found the man, talked
+to him, argued with him--in vain. It was a public matter, and the
+usual crowd collected.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look 'ere,&quot; cried the coster, to Dick, &quot;we don't want none o' <i>your</i><br>
+cheek, we don't. Who are you, I'd like to know, puttin' <i>your</i> spoke
+in? A innercent man, is 'e? Looks like it, don't it? Wot's the
+innercent man a-keepin' out of the way for? Why don't 'e come 'ome?
+Tell me that? 'Ere, I'll wait till you've made up somethink, somethink
+tasty, yer know. Take yer time. Wot! Ain't got a bloomin' word to say
+for yerself? Wot do you think?&quot; Appealing to the people surrounding
+them. &quot;'E's a nice sort o' chap to come palaverin' to me, ain't 'e?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The listeners were not all of one mind, many of them, indeed, being
+mindless. Some took one side, some took another, while Mrs. Death and
+Gracie stood by, pitiful, white-faced spectators of the scene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, it's as clear as mud,&quot; continued the coster. &quot;The sneakin' thief
+killed 'is master, and then laid 'ands on everythink 'e could collar,
+and cut away. Put them things together, and there you are, yer know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know where <i>you'll</i> be,&quot; said Dick, speaking in his best judicial
+manner, &quot;if you're not careful. It won't be the first time you've got
+yourself in trouble.&quot; The shot told, and the listeners wavered. &quot;We're
+Englishmen, I believe,&quot; said Dick, following up his advantage. &quot;We
+don't carry knives like the Italians, or fight with our legs like the
+French, and we're not made in Germany.&quot; This cosmopolitan reference
+was an immense hit, and two or three politicians said &quot;Hear, hear!&quot;
+Dick went on. &quot;We fight with our fists, and we don't hit a man when
+he's down. What we insist upon is fair play; that's what we wave our
+flag for--fair play. Look at Mrs. Death, a hard-working, respectable
+woman, that's lived among you all these years, and never done one of
+you an ill turn. Look at her innocent children that this great hulking
+brute is flinging stones at. It's cowardly, sneaking work. Oh, I'm not
+afraid of you, my man; if you lift your hand against me I'll give you
+something to remember me by. You haven't the pluck to hit one of your
+own size; you only hit women and children. I don't believe you've got
+a drop of English blood in your cowardly carcase.&quot; With sparkling eyes
+and glowing face he turned to the crowd. &quot;I appeal to a jury of
+English men and women. Is what this brute is doing manly, is it fair,
+is it English--that's the point, is it English?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was no doubt now as to the sympathy. It went out full and free
+to Mrs. Death and Gracie, who stood, as it were, in the dock, with the
+beetle-browed, sodden-faced coster accusing them, and this generous,
+bright-eyed, open-faced young fellow defending them. A woman who had a
+good recollection of the cherry incident, called out, &quot;Cherries!&quot; and
+they all began to laugh. This laughter completely settled the matter;
+the victory was won. The coster slunk off.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick was overwhelmed with congratulations, and Mrs. Death cast
+grateful glances at him, and wistful glances at her old friends and
+neighbours. They answered the mute appeal by thronging about her. To
+her they said, &quot;Never you mind, my dear, we'll see you righted.&quot; And
+to Dick, &quot;You spoke up like a man, sir, and we're proud of you.&quot; Which
+he capped, rather vaguely, by retorting, &quot;I'm proud of <i>you</i>. You're
+the sort of women that have made England what it is. Wives and
+mothers, that's what <i>you</i> are.&quot; A shrill voice called out, &quot;Not all
+of us, sir,&quot; amid shouts of laughter, which caused Dick to add, &quot;Then
+I hope you soon <i>will</i> be.&quot; This happy rejoinder won him the admiring
+glances of all the single women, many of whom (as yet unattached)
+breathed silent aspirations that heaven would send them such a man. At
+the worst of times Dick was a good-looking young fellow; seen now at
+his best, glowing with fervour, and espousing the cause of the weak,
+he was positively handsome. What wonder that maiden hearts were
+fluttering! He could have picked and chosen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen had been an amused witness of the encounter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My young friend,&quot; he said, &quot;my dear young friend, victorious again,
+always victorious; and in eloquence a Demosthenes. Accept my
+congratulations. Mrs. Death, take your little girl home and put her to
+bed, then apply a hot linseed poultice. I will call upon you to-morrow
+morning. Mr. Dick Remington--pardon the familiarity, but Dick is so
+appropriate--I salute you--sal-ute you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick nodded good-day, and turned off with Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick,&quot; she said, fondling his hand, &quot;you're splendid, splendid!&quot;
+No knight of chivalry in &quot;the good old times&quot; (which were much worse
+than the present) ever inspired deeper admiration in the breast of
+lady fair than Dick did in the breast of this poor little waif. &quot;I
+told you, mother, it would be all right if we had Dick with us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you did, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't I wish I was old enough to walk out with you!&quot; said Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you know I'm not a married man, Gracie?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go along!&quot; she replied, with a touch of scorn. &quot;As if I don't know
+the married ones by only looking at 'em!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You mustn't mind her foolishness, sir,&quot; said Mrs. Death. &quot;She says
+the silliest things! We're very grateful to you, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, nonsense,&quot; he said, &quot;anyone else would have done the same.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They wouldn't,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;They couldn't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With a kind pressure of their hands he turned in the direction of Aunt
+Rob's house, where a very different task awaited him.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_30" href="#div1Ref_30">REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">As it was in Draper's Mews so was it in other parts of the metropolis.
+The murder was talked of everywhere, and in some mysterious way the
+disappearance of Abel Death was associated with it. The wildest
+speculations were indulged in. He had gone to Australia, he had gone
+to America, he had never left England at all, he had taken with him an
+enormous sum of money which he had found in the house in Catchpole
+Square, he had so disguised himself that his own wife and children
+would not have known him, he had been seen in various parts of London.
+He was generally condemned, and had no defenders. Had his fate, if
+caught and in the clutches of the law, depended upon the public vote,
+his doom would have been sealed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So was it with Mrs. Pond and Mrs. Applebee, who could talk upon no
+other subject.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Applebee says that when Inspector Robson saw the body he turned as
+white as a ghost.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why should he?&quot; asked Mrs. Pond. &quot;It's not the first body he's seen
+by many.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, don't you know, my dear,&quot; said Mrs. Applebee, &quot;that his
+daughter's married to Mr. Boyd's son?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I never heard of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Applebee bristled with importance. &quot;They were married only a few
+weeks ago, and they do say it was a runaway match. Off they went one
+morning, arm in arm, to the registrar's office, and she comes home
+half an hour afterwards, and says, 'Mother, I'm married to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd.' 'Married, Florence!' cries Mrs. Robson, and bursts
+into tears.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Florence!&quot; said Mrs. Pond, in dismay, thinking of the handkerchief.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's her name, my dear, and a pretty girl I'm told. She's a lucky
+one. Applebee says if Mr. Boyd hasn't made a will her husband'll come
+in for everything. Mr. Boyd must have been worth piles of money. Let's
+hope it'll do somebody good; it never did while he was alive. It's
+curious that your lodger, Mr. Remington, is mixed up in it, too. He's
+Inspector Robson's nephew, you know; him and Miss Florence was brought
+up together. He's been hanging about Catchpole Square a good deal the
+last week or two; in the dead of night, too. Applebee says he'd like
+to get hold of that woman that slipped through his hands on the night
+of the fog. He's got an idea that she must have something to do with
+the murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But doesn't he think Abel Death did it?&quot; asked Mrs. Pond, faintly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes, he thinks that, as everybody does, but the woman might be
+mixed up with it somehow. Just listen to those boys shouting out
+another edition. What are they calling out? Fresh discoveries! I must
+get a paper; that'll be the third I've bought to-day. Perhaps they've
+caught Abel Death. The man on 'The Illustrated Afternoon' took
+Applebee's portrait, and I'm dying to see it. I wouldn't miss it for
+anything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was, of course, but one subject in Aunt Rob's mind when Dick
+presented himself. She told him that Reginald was in a terrible state.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I couldn't stop the boys coming into the street,&quot; she said, &quot;and
+Reginald heard them. Florence ran down to me all in a flutter, and
+asked if I didn't hear them calling out something about a murder in
+Catchpole Square, and what was it? Then she caught sight of the paper
+that I was trying to hide, and when she looked at it she was
+frightened out of her life. We did all we could to keep it from
+Reginald, but he couldn't help seeing from our faces that there was
+something serious the matter. At last there was nothing for it but to
+tell him, and we did it as gently as we could. But the shock was
+dreadful; he sobbed like a little child. Then he cried that he must go
+to the house, and we had almost to use force to prevent him leaving
+his bed. Florence threw her arms round him, and begged and implored so
+that he had to give in. We tried to comfort him by saying that it
+mightn't be true, that it might be another man who was murdered, and
+that you and Uncle Rob had gone to see about it. I'm afraid to ask you
+if it's true, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is too true,&quot; he replied, and rapidly related all that had passed
+since he and Uncle Rob had left her. She listened horror-struck, and
+when he finished could hardly find voice to ask who he thought was the
+murderer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know what to think,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There can be only one man,&quot; she said, but he stopped her from
+proceeding.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't let's talk about it just now, aunt. There are a dozen men who
+would rather see Samuel Boyd dead than alive. He had plenty of
+enemies, and he deserved to have. If Reginald knew I was here he would
+want to see me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He made me promise the moment either of you came back to bring you up
+to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We'll go at once. There must be no further concealment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald was sitting up in bed, very white and haggard.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thought I heard voices,&quot; he said when they entered the room. &quot;Have
+you been there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I have been there,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you see him? Speak--speak!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I saw him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw him! Well--well?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My God! My God! My father!--Dead! And he died at enmity with me!&quot;
+groaned Reginald, sinking down in bed, and turning his face to the
+wall. They did not disturb him--did not dare to speak. &quot;Is it certain
+that he was murdered,&quot; he said presently in a broken voice, &quot;that he
+did not die a natural death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I fear there is no doubt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Strangled, the paper says--strangled!&quot; Dick was silent. &quot;Strangled in
+his sleep! Without having time to think, to pray! Oh, Florence, what
+shame, what misery I have brought upon you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is an awful misfortune, Reginald, dear,&quot; said Florence, her arms
+round his neck, her face nestled close to his, &quot;and it makes us all
+very unhappy. But there is no shame in it, dearest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is, there is,&quot; he moaned. &quot;Shame, shame--misery and disgrace!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick, observing him closely, strove to arrive at some conclusion,
+apart from the evidence in his possession, with respect to his
+complicity in the terrible deed. Innocent or guilty, the shock of the
+news could have produced no other effect than was shown in the white
+face, the shaking body, the sobbing voice. There was another interval
+of silence, which, again, Reginald was the first to break. &quot;Tell me
+everything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know the worst,&quot; said Dick, &quot;let us wait till you are stronger.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; cried Reginald, &quot;I cannot wait. You must tell me
+everything--now, here! Wait? With those cries ringing in my ears?
+Don't you hear them? Hark!&quot; They listened, and heard nothing. It was
+the spiritual echo of the ominous sounds that was in Reginald's ears.
+&quot;Is anyone suspected? Is there any clue? Are not the people speaking
+about it in the streets?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are all sorts of rumours,&quot; said Dick, reluctantly. &quot;When Uncle
+Rob and I went into the house we found everything as the papers
+describe. Nothing seems to have been taken away, but of course we
+can't be positive on that point yet. There were no signs of a
+struggle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The paper speaks of bloody footprints,&quot; said Reginald, a white fear
+in his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are signs of them,&quot; said Dick, with a guilty tremor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And no blood on my--my father's body, nor in the bed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The house has been broken into?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The man who broke into it did the deed,&quot; said Reginald, in a low,
+musing tone; then, after a pause, &quot;But the blood--the blood! How to
+account for that? How did you get into the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Through the front door.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But--the key!&quot; exclaimed Reginald, and Dick fancied he detected signs
+of confusion. &quot;Where did you get the key from?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A policeman scaled the wall at the back of the house, and entered
+through the broken window. He found the key in your father's room, and
+he came down and let us in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He had to draw the bolts?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The door was not bolted, and the chain was not up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then my father couldn't----,&quot; said Reginald, and suddenly checked
+himself. &quot;Go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When Uncle Rob and I left the house Mrs. Death and her little girl
+were in the square; she had tried to force herself into the house, but
+the policeman kept her back. You know from the papers that her husband
+has not been seen since Friday week.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Until I read it in this paper an hour ago,&quot; said Reginald, pointing
+to the copy of &quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; that lay on the bed, &quot;I was in
+ignorance of it. I cannot understand his disappearance; it is a
+mystery. The last I saw of him was on the afternoon of that very
+Friday, when I went to see my father in Catchpole Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes?&quot; said Dick, eagerly, greatly relieved at this candid confession.
+It was a gleam of comfort.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My father was not at home, and I came away.&quot; He pressed his hand upon
+his eyes, and a long silence ensued. They looked at him anxiously, and
+Florence, her finger at her lips, warned them not to speak. Removing
+his hand, he proceeded: &quot;I ought to tell you now why I went to see my
+father. Had I been well I should have spoken of it before. Even you,
+Florence, have not heard what I am about to say. Dick, I can trust you
+not to speak of this to any one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You may trust me thoroughly, Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know, I know. In my dear wife's eyes you are the soul of honour and
+faithfulness, and in my eyes, also, Dick. It is my hope that we shall
+always be firm friends.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With but one thought in his mind, the peace and happiness of the woman
+he loved, Dick answered, &quot;And mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you,&quot; said Reginald, gravely. &quot;What I wish to tell you
+commences with my child-life. My mother, when she married my father,
+brought him a small fortune, and she had money, also, in her own
+right. Young as I was, I knew that she was not happy, and that there
+were differences between her and my father, arising partly from his
+endeavours to obtain the sole control of every shilling she possessed.
+There were probably other causes, but they did not come to my
+knowledge. My mother's refusal to comply with his demands was prompted
+by her solicitude for my future. She was the best of women, and never
+uttered one word of reproach against my father; she suffered in
+silence, as only women can, and she found some solace in the love she
+bore for me and in the love I bore for her. We were inseparable, and,
+occupying the home with my father, we lived a life apart from him. He
+had but one aim, the amassing of money, and there was no sympathy
+between us. I hope there are not many homes in which such estrangement
+exists. She died when I was ten, and I lost the one dear friend I had
+in the world. In our last embrace on her deathbed she said to me, in a
+whisper, 'Promise me that when you are a man--a happy man, I fervently
+pray--you will not become a money-lender.' I gave her the promise, and
+an abhorrence of the trade my father practised took deep root in me,
+and has grown stronger every year of my life. Over an open grave there
+should be no bitterness, and though my heart is sore I will strive to
+avoid it. My mother left me her little fortune, and appointed a
+trustee over whom, by ill chance, my father subsequently obtained
+great influence, and in the end had him completely in his power. This
+trustee died when I was twenty-two, and before then my inheritance was
+in my father's hands to deal with as he pleased. My mother's will was
+very precise. A certain sum every year was to be expended upon my
+education until I came of age, when the residue was to be handed to me
+to make a practical start in life. She named the schools and colleges
+in which I was to be educated, and when I was nineteen I was to spend
+the next two years in France and Germany and Italy, to perfect myself
+in the languages of those countries. It was at my option whether I
+remained abroad after I came of age, and, in point of fact, I did,
+returning home a year after the death of my trustee. You will see by
+these provisions that I was cut off entirely from the domestic and
+business life of my father, and I understood and appreciated her
+reasons when I became intimately acquainted with it--as I did when, my
+education completed, I returned to his home in Catchpole Square. I
+lived with him between two and three years, and during that time his
+one endeavour was to induce me to share the business with him, to obey
+his orders, to carry out his directions, to initiate myself into a
+system which I detested, into practices which I abhorred. We had
+numberless discussions and quarrels; he argued, he stormed, he
+threatened, and I steadily resisted him. At length matters came to a
+head, and I finally convinced him that I would not go his way, but
+would carve out a path for myself. 'Upon what kind of foundation will
+you carve out this path?' he asked. 'You will want money to keep
+yourself in idleness till you establish a position, and are able to
+pay for your livelihood.' 'I have it,' I replied. 'Indeed,' he said,
+'I was not aware of it. Have you some secret hoard of wealth which you
+have hidden from me?' 'I have my inheritance,' I said. He laughed in
+my face. 'Your inheritance!' he exclaimed. 'You haven't a shilling.
+Every penny of it, and more, has been spent upon your education and
+riotous living since your beautiful lady mother died.' The sneering
+reference to my dear mother angered me more than his statement that I
+was a beggar, and hot words passed between us, in the midst of which I
+left the room. The next day I returned to the subject, and said I had
+understood from my trustee that when I was twenty-one years of age I
+should come into a fortune of eight thousand pounds. 'He lied,' my
+father said. 'I have the papers and the calculations here in my safe.
+You can look them over if you like. I deal fair by every man, and I
+will deal fair by you, ungrateful as you have proved yourself to be. I
+could refuse to produce the papers for your private inspection, but I
+am honest and generous, and though all is at an end between us unless
+you consent to assist me in my business, I will satisfy you that your
+father is not a rogue. You are indebted to me a large sum of money,
+and I shall be happy to hear how soon you intend to pay it.' I replied
+that I would choose the humblest occupation rather than remain with
+him, and he took from his safe a mass of documents and said I must
+examine them in his presence. I did examine them, but could make
+nothing of them, the figures were so confusing. There were records of
+transactions into which my trustee had entered on my behalf, losses
+upon speculations, of charges for my education, of sums of money which
+had been sent to me from time to time for my personal expenses, of
+interest upon those advances, of interest upon other sums, of the cost
+of my board and lodging during the time I had lived at home with my
+father, of the small sums he had given me during the last two or three
+years, and of interest upon those sums. At the end of these documents
+there was a debit upon the total amount of twelve hundred pounds,
+which my father said I owed him. All this I saw as in a mist, but
+cunning as the figures were, there was no doubt in my mind that I had
+been defrauded, and by the last man in the world who should have
+inflicted this wrong upon me. What could I do but protest? I did
+protest. My father, putting the papers back in his safe, retorted that
+I was reflecting upon his honesty, that I was his enemy and had better
+go to law, and that he renounced me as his son. We had a bitter
+quarrel, which ended in my leaving his house, a beggar, to begin the
+world; and so strong were the feelings I entertained towards him, and
+so sensitive was I to the opprobrium which, in the minds of many
+people, was attached to the name of Boyd, that I determined to
+renounce it, as he had renounced me. Thus it was that you knew me only
+as Mr. Reginald; it caused me many a bitter pang to deceive you, and I
+was oppressed with doubts as to the wisdom of my resolve. All that is
+now at an end, however, and I ask your pardon for the deceit. Perhaps
+you have heard from Florence of the struggle I made to provide a home
+for her, and of my disappointment and despair at not seeing the way to
+its accomplishment. I thought much of the fraud of which I had been
+the victim, and the more I thought the more was I convinced that my
+father was retaining money which rightly belonged to me. At length it
+seemed to me that it was my duty to see him again upon the subject,
+and to make an earnest endeavour to obtain restitution. For my own
+sake, no. Had I not my dear Florence I think I should have left
+England, and have striven in another country to carve my way; but
+having seen her I could not, could not leave her. It was in pursuance
+of this resolution that I went to Catchpole Square last Friday week,
+and saw Abel Death, who informed me that my father was not at home.
+Now you know all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was with almost breathless interest that Dick listened to this
+confession, and it was with a feeling of dismay that he heard the last
+words, &quot;Now you know all.&quot; Did they know all? Not a word about the
+key, not a word about the second visit to his father late on that
+fatal Friday night!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are people speaking about Abel Death?&quot; asked Reginald, turning to
+Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. They are coupling his disappearance with the murder. A strong
+suspicion is entertained. His poor wife is nearly mad with grief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you tell me he is suspected of the crime?&quot; cried Reginald, in an
+excited tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Many suspect him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What cruelty to defame an innocent man--what cruelty, what cruelty!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you know for a certainty that he is innocent?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is a strange question, Dick. How can I be certain? Until the
+truth is known, how can any man be certain? I speak from my knowledge
+of his character. A drudge, working from hand to mouth. Alas! what
+misery and injustice this dreadful deed brings in its train!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald, dear,&quot; said Florence, gently, &quot;you are exhausted. Do not
+talk any more. Rest a little. Dick will remain here, and will come up
+when you want him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I am tired. You are a true friend, Dick. You will assist us, I
+know. Do all you can to avert suspicion from Abel Death. I must rest
+and think. There are so many things to think of--so many things!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He held out his hand to Dick, and then sank back in his bed and closed
+his eyes. There was nothing more to be said at present, and Dick and
+Aunt Rob stole softly to the room below.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Dick,&quot; she said, &quot;I am going to open my mind to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do, aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has it occurred to you that in this trouble that has fallen upon
+Reginald he needs a man of business to act for him.&quot; Dick looked at
+her for an explanation. &quot;A man of business,&quot; she repeated, &quot;and a
+devoted friend, rolled into one. I am a practical woman as you know,
+Dick, and we mustn't lose sight of Reginald's interests--because his
+interests are Florence's now, and ours. He stands to-day in a very
+different position from what he did when he married Florence without
+our knowledge. Mr. Boyd's death is very shocking, and it will be a
+long time before we get over it; but after all it's not like losing
+one we loved. He's dead and gone, and the Lord have mercy upon him.
+The longer he lived the more mischief he'd have done, and the more
+poor people he'd have made miserable. It sounds hard, but it's the
+honest truth. I'm looking the thing straight in the face, and I feel
+that something ought to be done without delay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What ought to be done, aunt?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, Reginald is Mr. Boyd's only child, and there's that house in
+Catchpole Square, with any amount of valuable property in it, and no
+one to look after it. It mustn't be left to the mercy of strangers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It ought not to be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald won't be able to stir out of the house for at least three or
+four days. Now, who's to attend to his interests? You. Who's to search
+for the will, supposing one was made--which with all my heart and soul
+I hope wasn't? You. Even if there is a will, leaving the money away
+from him, he can lay claim to the fortune his mother left him, for
+there isn't a shadow of doubt that he has been robbed of it. There's
+no one else with time on their hands that will act fair by him. You
+must be Reginald's man of business, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Some person certainly should represent him,&quot; said Dick, thoughtfully,
+&quot;and I shall have no objection if he wishes it. But it must be done
+legally.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course it must. Do you know a solicitor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I don't, but I think I can put you on the scent of a gentleman
+that will do for us. In High Street, about a dozen doors down on the
+left hand side from here, there's a brass plate with 'Mr. Lamb,
+Solicitor,' on it. Just step round, and ask Mr. Lamb if he'll be kind
+enough to come and see me on very particular business. While you're
+gone I'll say just three words to Reginald; I'll answer for it he'll
+not object.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You <i>are</i> a practical woman, aunt,&quot; said Dick, putting on his hat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you lived with us all these years without finding it out? Cut
+away, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Away he went, and soon returned with Mr. Lamb, a very large gentleman
+with a very small practice; and being a gentleman with a very small
+practice he brought with him a capacious blue bag.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is professional, Mr. Lamb,&quot; said Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So I judge, madam, from your message,&quot; he answered, taking a seat,
+and pulling the strings of his blue bag with the air of a gentleman
+who could instantly produce any legal document she required.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob then explained matters, and asked what Reginald's position
+was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If there is no will, madam, he is heir at law,&quot; said Mr. Lamb.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Until a will is found can he enter into possession of the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And being too ill to leave his bed, can he appoint some one to act
+for him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has an indisputable right to appoint any person he pleases.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then please draw up at once a paper to that effect, in as few words
+as possible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At once, madam!&quot; exclaimed Mr. Lamb, with a professional objection to
+a course so prompt and straightforward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At once,&quot; said Aunt Rob, with decision. &quot;This is an unusual case.
+There is the house with no one to take care of it, and here is my
+son-in-law upstairs, unable to leave his bed. If you cannot do what
+you want I must consult----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Madam,&quot; said Mr. Lamb, hastily, &quot;there is no occasion for you to
+consult another solicitor. I will draw out such an authority as you
+require, and it can be stamped on Monday. Favour me with the name of
+the attorney.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The attorney?&quot; she said, in a tone of inquiry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The gentleman whom Mr. Reginald Boyd appoints to act for him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Mr. Dick Remington. My nephew.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The solicitor, recognising that Aunt Rob was not a woman to be trifled
+with, even by a solicitor, accepted the situation with a good grace,
+and set to work.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have spoken to Reginald, Dick,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;and he consented
+gladly. It is to be a matter of business, mind that. We can't have you
+wasting your time for nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In due time the solicitor announced that the document was ready, and
+read it out to them, not quite to Aunt Rob's satisfaction, who shook
+her head at the number of words, and was only reconciled when Dick
+said it was all right.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is in proper form and order,&quot; said Mr. Lamb, &quot;though shorter than
+it should be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The shorter the better,&quot; said Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He smiled sadly. &quot;There is another thing Mr. Reginald Boyd should do,
+madam. He should take out letters of administration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that a long job?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, madam, it is very simple, very simple.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then let it be done immediately.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are certain formalities, madam. With Mr. Reginald Boyd's
+permission we will attend to it on Monday. To this present power of
+attorney the signatures of two witnesses are necessary.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm one, and my nephew's another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your nephew, madam, being an interested party, is not available. Your
+signature will be valid, and there is probably a servant in the
+house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course there is,&quot; said Aunt Rob, resentfully. &quot;The law seems to me
+to be nothing but going round corners and taking wrong turnings
+purposely. Such a fuss and to-do about a signature I never heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Lamb gave her a reproachful look. &quot;It is for the protection of the
+individual, madam. The law is a thing to be thankful for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>Is</i> it?&quot; she snapped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Without law, madam,&quot; he said, in feeble protest, &quot;society could not
+exist. We should be in a state of chaos.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The formalities were soon concluded. Reginald signed, Aunt Rob signed,
+and the servant signed, though at the words, &quot;This is your hand and
+seal,&quot; she trembled visibly. Then instructions were given for the
+taking out of letters of administration, and Mr. Lamb took his
+departure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your worthy aunt,&quot; he said, as Dick opened the street door for him,
+&quot;is a very extraordinary woman. The manner in which she has rushed
+this business through is quite unique, and I am not sure, in the
+strict sense of the term, that it is exactly professional. I can only
+trust it will not be accepted as a precedent.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_31" href="#div1Ref_31">SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">From time to time there had been murders committed in London with
+details dismal and sordid enough to satisfy the most rabid appetites,
+but it was generally admitted that the great Catchpole Square Mystery
+outvied them all in just those elements of attraction which render
+crime so weirdly fascinating to the British public. Men and women in
+North Islington experienced a feeling akin to that which the bestowal
+of an unexpected dignity confers, and when they retired to bed were
+more than ordinarily careful about the fastening of locks and bolts.
+Timid wives woke in the middle of the night, and tremblingly asked
+their husbands whether they did not hear somebody creeping in the
+passages, and many a single woman shivered in her bed. Shopkeepers
+standing behind their counters bristled with it; blue-aproned
+butchers, knife in hand, called out their &quot;Buy, buy, buy!&quot; with a
+brisk and cheery ring; crossing sweepers touched their hats smartly to
+their patrons, and preceding them with the unnecessary broom as they
+swept nothing away, murmured the latest rumour; the lamplighters,
+usually a sad race, lighted the street lamps with unwonted alacrity;
+and the Saturday night beggars took their stands below the kerb in
+hopeful anticipation of a spurt in benevolence. Naturally it formed
+the staple news in the newspapers on Sunday and Monday, and all agreed
+that the excitement it had created was unparallelled in the records of
+the criminal calendar.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On Saturday evening,&quot; said &quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; in its Monday's
+editions, &quot;numbers of people wended their way to Catchpole Square from
+every part of the metropolis. Up till late the usually quiet streets
+resembled a Saturday night market, and there was an extraordinary
+demand for the literature of crime, with which the vendors of
+second-hand books had provided themselves. Towards midnight the human
+tide slackened, but even during the early hours of the morning there
+were many fresh arrivals. On Sunday the excitement was renewed, and it
+is calculated that seven or eight thousand persons must have visited
+the Square in the course of the day, many of whom seemed to regard the
+occasion as a picnic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In our columns will be found picturesque accounts of incidents that
+came under the notice of our reporters, not the least amusing of which
+is that of the mother and father who brought with them a large family
+of children, and had come provided with food for a day's outing. They
+arrived at eleven in the morning, and at eleven at night were still
+there. They had been informed that when a murdered man was lying in
+his own bed unburied on the Day of Rest he was ordered to get up and
+dress himself when the church bells rang, and go to church to pray for
+his sins. If he disobeyed his soul was lost, and his ghost would
+appear on the roof at midnight, surrounded by flames and accompanied
+by the Evil One. 'Did he go to church?' asked our reporter, who, in a
+conversation with the woman late on Sunday night, elicited this
+curious piece of information. 'No,' replied the woman, 'and it's a bad
+day's work for him. I shouldn't like to be in his shoes.' The woman
+furthermore said that she would give anything to see the ghost at
+midnight on the roof, thus evincing small regard for Samuel Boyd's
+salvation. 'It would be a better show, wouldn't it?' she observed,
+with an eye to theatrical effect. 'I've never seen the Devil.' It is
+deplorable that in this age such silly superstitions should obtain
+credence, and that with numbers of people in different parts of the
+country the belief in witchcraft and in demoniacal demonstrations
+should still exist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Secondary only in importance to the murder is the disappearance of
+Samuel Boyd's clerk, Abel Death. To suggest anything in the shape of
+complicity would be prejudging the case, but whatever may be the fate
+of Abel Death his poor family are to be commiserated. The theories and
+conjectures respecting the disappearance of this man are perfectly
+bewildering, and many are the excited discussions concerning it. Such
+licence of speech cannot be commended, and we suggest to those persons
+indulging in it the advisability of suspending their judgment.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A full report of the inquest held this morning appears in our
+columns. In view of the burial of the body of the murdered man, which
+will take place to-morrow, it was deemed necessary to open the inquiry
+to-day, although it was anticipated that little progress would be
+made; but although the Coroner stated that the proceedings would be of
+a formal character, it will be seen that matters were introduced the
+development of which will be followed with the keenest interest. The
+appearance of an eminent barrister for Lord and Lady Wharton, whose
+names have not hitherto been associated with the mystery, aroused
+general curiosity, which was intensified by the conduct of Lady
+Wharton herself. The Court was crowded, and numbers of persons could
+not obtain admittance. Among the audience we noticed several famous
+actors and actresses.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_32" href="#div1Ref_32">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S&quot; REPORT OF THE INQUEST.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">This morning, at the Coroner's Court, Bishop Street, Mr. John Kent,
+the Coroner for the district, opened an inquiry into the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square, who was found dead in his house on
+Saturday, the 9th inst., under circumstances which have already been
+reported in the newspapers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The coroner, addressing the jury, said the initial proceedings would
+be chiefly formal. Their first duty would be to view the body of the
+deceased; after that certain witnesses would be examined who would
+testify to the finding of the body, and others who would give evidence
+of identification. The inquiry would then be adjourned till Wednesday,
+on which day medical and other evidence would be forthcoming. He
+refrained from any comment on the case, and he advised the jury to
+turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and reports which were in
+circulation; it was of the utmost importance that they should keep an
+open mind, and be guided only by the evidence which would be presented
+to them. Much mischief was frequently done by the prejudice aroused by
+injudicious public comment on a case presenting such singular features
+as the present. Comments of this nature were greatly to be deplored;
+they hampered, instead of assisting, the cause of justice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The jury then proceeded to Catchpole Square to view the body, and upon
+their return to court Mr. Finnis, Q.C., rose and stated that he
+appeared for Lord and Lady Wharton, who had a close and peculiar
+interest in the inquiry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner said the inquiry would be conducted in the usual manner,
+without the aid of counsel, whose assistance would be available in
+another court, but not in this, where no accusation was brought
+against any person, and where no person was on his trial.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Our desire is to render material assistance to you and
+the jury. Lady Wharton----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I cannot listen to you, Mr. Finnis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Lady Wharton has most important, I may say most
+extraordinary evidence to give----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Her evidence will be received, but not to-day. Pray be
+seated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Her ladyship is in attendance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;She is at liberty to remain; but I repeat, her evidence
+cannot be received to-day. Only formal evidence will be taken to
+enable the body to be buried.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Evidence of identification, I understand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Lady Wharton's evidence bears expressly upon this point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;It must be tendered at the proper time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;With all respect, Mr. Coroner, I submit that this is the
+proper time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I am the judge of that. I ask you not to persist. I
+shall conduct this inquiry in accordance with my duties as Coroner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first witness called was Mr. Robert Starr.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a reporter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A special reporter and descriptive writer for 'The Little Busy Bee.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were you the first person to enter the house in Catchpole Square
+after the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot say. Some person or persons had been there before me, as is
+proved by a broken window at the back of the house through which I
+obtained entrance, but whether after or before the death of Mr. Boyd
+is unknown to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It appears, however, to have been a recent entrance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It appears so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have no knowledge of these persons?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Having obtained entrance into the house, what next did you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I went through a passage, and up a staircase to another passage which
+leads to the street door. In this passage are doors opening into
+various rooms. I looked into these rooms without making any discovery,
+until I came to one which seems to have been used as an office. There
+are two doors in this office, one opening into a small room in which I
+saw nothing to arouse my suspicions, the other opening into a larger
+room which I found was a sleeping apartment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Examine this plan of the rooms, and tell us whether it is accurate?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite accurate, so far as my memory serves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The room on the right is the sleeping apartment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd's bedroom?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know. There was a bed in it, and the usual appointments of a
+bedroom. I stepped up to the bed, and saw it was occupied. Examining
+closer, I discovered that the person in it was dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By the person you mean Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not. I have never seen Mr. Boyd in his lifetime, and I could not
+therefore identify the body. But from the fact of the house being his,
+and from certain rumours of foul play which had reached me, I assumed
+that it was he.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You examined the body?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and I observed marks on the throat which favoured the
+presumption that the man had been murdered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In his sleep?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot vouch for that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were there any signs of a struggle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None. The limbs were composed, and what greatly surprised me was the
+orderly condition of the bedclothes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How long did you remain in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;About two hours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;During that time were you quite alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were there any indications of a robbery having been committed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I observed none. The clothes of the deceased were on a chair, and
+there was no appearance of their having been rifled. There is a safe
+fixed to the wall; it did not seem to have been tampered with.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Having completed your examination, what next did you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I left the house, and proceeded to the Bishop Street Police Station
+to give information of my discovery.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And after that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I went to the office of 'The Little Busy Bee,' and wrote an account
+of what I had seen and done, which, being published, was the first
+information the public received of the murder--if murder it was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Had any orders been given to you to take action in this matter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None. I acted entirely on my own initiative.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What impelled you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, there seemed to me to be a mystery which should be unravelled
+in the public interests. I pieced three things together. The
+disappearance of Mr. Boyd's clerk, as reported in our paper, the
+silence of Mr. Boyd respecting that disappearance, upon which, had he
+written or spoken, he could probably have thrown some light, and the
+house in Catchpole Square sealed up, so to speak. These things
+required to be explained, and I set about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: &quot;Now, Mr. Starr, at what time in the morning----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;No, no, Mr. Finnis. I instruct the witness not to answer
+any questions you put to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Will you, then Mr. Coroner, ask him at what hour in the
+morning he made the discovery? I assure you it is a most important
+point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;At what hour in the morning did you enter the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At a little after ten.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you left it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At a few minutes before twelve. I went straight to the police
+station, where, no doubt, the time can be verified.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any other information to give bearing on this inquiry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One thing should be mentioned. In my printed narrative I state that I
+noticed dark stains upon the floor of the office and the bedroom, and
+that I traced these stains to the window at the back. I scraped off a
+portion of the stains, which I gave to my chief, who handed it to an
+analyst. His report is that they are the stains of human blood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were they stains of old standing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I scraped them off quite easily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you observe any blood on the bedclothes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next witness was Constable Simmons, who stated that he and
+Constable Filey were instructed by the day inspector at the Bishop
+Street Police Station to enter the house for the purpose of
+ascertaining whether there was any truth in the information given by
+Mr. Starr.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At what time were those instructions issued?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Somewhere about three o'clock.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that three hours elapsed before any action was taken?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am under orders, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The witness then gave an account of how he got into the house by means
+of a ladder over the wall at the back, and through the window.
+Corroborating in every particular the evidence of the reporter, he
+went a step farther. In the bedroom of the deceased he found the key
+of the street door, which he opened to admit Constable Filey, who was
+keeping watch in the Square outside. The street door was neither
+chained nor bolted. He did not see any stains of blood on the floor;
+he did not look for them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Constable Filey, who was next examined, gave evidence to the same
+effect. Neither of these officers was acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd,
+and could not therefore speak as to the identification of the body.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson was then called. His appearance caused some
+excitement, it being understood that his daughter was married to the
+son of the deceased.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are an inspector of police?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. At present on night duty at the Bishop Street Station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not personally. I have seen him several times, but have never spoken
+to him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are sufficiently familiar with his features to identify him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When did you first hear of his death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On Saturday afternoon, when I was sitting at home with my wife and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington. The boys were calling out news of a
+murder in Catchpole Square, and we went out and bought a paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before Saturday afternoon had your attention been directed in any way
+to the house in which the deceased resided?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. Last Tuesday night a woman was brought into the office who made
+a statement respecting the disappearance of her husband, who had been
+in the service of the deceased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the name of the woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mrs. Abel Death. I advised her to apply to the magistrate on the
+following morning, in order that it might be made public.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;After reading the news in the paper on Saturday afternoon what did
+you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I went to the Bishop Street Station, and learned that constables had
+been sent to enter the house, for the purpose of ascertaining if the
+statement made by the reporter was correct.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I went to Catchpole Square, accompanied by Constable Applebee and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington--both of whom were acquainted with the
+deceased--I entered the house and saw the body. I identified it as the
+body of Mr. Samuel Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there any doubt in your mind on the point?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not the slightest. I have seen him scores of times, and his features
+were quite familiar to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw the marks on his throat?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any idea as to the cause of his death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It appeared to me to have been caused by strangulation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Inspector Robson, I wish to ask you if you formed any idea as to
+how long he had been dead. You cannot, of course, speak with the
+authority of an expert, but we should like to hear what your
+impression was?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My impression was that he had been dead several days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this answer considerable commotion was caused by a lady exclaiming
+&quot;Impossible! Impossible!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_33" href="#div1Ref_33">SCENES IN COURT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I cannot allow the proceedings to be interrupted by any
+of the spectators, and I must request the person who spoke to preserve
+silence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Lady (rising): &quot;My name is Lady Wharton, and I know what I am
+saying. It is not in the nature of things to be silent when so
+monstrous a statement as that is made. I say again, it is impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;The witness has given his impression----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;He cannot be in his right senses, or he must have some
+motive----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You are impeaching the witness and delaying the
+proceedings. Unless you resume your seat it will be my duty to have
+you removed----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton (indignantly): &quot;Have me removed! Is this a court of
+justice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Corner: &quot;I hope so. Kindly resume your seat.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;I insist upon being heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You compel me to do what will be disagreeable to you.&quot;
+(To a Constable.) &quot;Officer----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: &quot;One moment, I beg.&quot; (To Lady Wharton.) &quot;Please
+observe the Coroner's directions. At present you can be heard only
+through me.&quot; (Lady Wharton, who was accompanied by her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, resumed her seat in great agitation.)</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;It is a point of vital importance, and I ask
+the witness--upon whom neither Lady Wharton nor I cast any
+imputation--whether he positively swears that the body is that of
+Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to the witness): &quot;Do not reply to any question except
+those put to you by me or the jury.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;You will understand, Mr. Coroner, when Lady Wharton is
+examined, why the statement of the witness appears to her incredible.
+Our desire is to prevent a miscarriage of justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;It is the desire of all of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A Juror: &quot;There can be no harm in asking the question again. With your
+permission, Mr. Coroner, I will put it. Inspector Robson, do you
+positively swear that the body you saw is that of Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;So far as a human being can be positive, I swear
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And that you formed the idea that he had been dead several days?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is certainly my impression.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (after listening to a whispered communication from the
+juror): &quot;It has been suggested to me to ask whether you have any
+personal interest in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson (with warmth): &quot;I do not understand you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;We are aware, Inspector Robson, of the high character
+you bear, and of the deserved estimation in which you are held. It is
+probable that in the course of this inquiry questions may be asked
+which may not seem to have any direct bearing upon the investigation,
+but which may eventually lead to issues of more or less importance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;I am giving my evidence as inspector of police.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Not entirely. You are a witness in this case, and are
+here both as an official and a private citizen. If you have an
+objection to answer the question I will not press it; but I would
+point out to you that your refusal may leave an unfavourable
+impression on the minds of the jury.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson (after a pause): &quot;Will you put the question in more
+direct terms, Mr. Coroner? I would prefer my private affairs not being
+imported into this case, but I should be sorry to lay myself open to
+misconstruction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;In plainer terms, then, is there any relationship
+between you and the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;He is my son-in-law's father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You were, of course, aware of this when Mrs. Abel Death
+reported the disappearance of her husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;No, Mr. Coroner, I was not aware of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Was the marriage between your daughter and Mr. Reginald
+Boyd quite recent?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson (with evident reluctance): &quot;No, they have been
+married two months.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;There is a strange discrepancy here. How could you have
+been ignorant of the relationship when Mrs. Death came to the Bishop
+Street Police Station?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;At that time I did not know that my daughter was
+married. As what passes in this court will be reported in the
+newspapers, I wish to add that no blame attaches either to her or her
+husband, for whom my wife and myself have the highest regard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;He is the only son of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;In point of fact the heir-at-law, unless he is
+dispossessed by will?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Has any will been found?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;Not to my knowledge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Has search been made for it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;It is now being made.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;By whom?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;By my son-in-law's attorney, Mr. Richard
+Remington.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Your nephew?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror (to the Coroner): &quot;Will Mr. Reginald Boyd be called?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Not to-day. It appears, from a letter I have here, which
+is accompanied by a doctor's certificate, that he went yesterday to
+his father's house in Catchpole Square to identify the body, that he
+has been very ill, and that the exertion was too much for him. It is
+hoped that on Wednesday, to which day the inquiry will be adjourned,
+he will be well enough to give his evidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;How long has he been ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;Since last Saturday week.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;The day following that on which Mr. Abel Death
+disappeared?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Can you inform us whether Mr. Reginald Boyd was on good
+terms with his father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;I do not think it is a question I should be called
+upon to answer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Very well, Inspector Robson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next witness was Mr. Richard Remington, who gave his answers
+generally with rapidity; but occasionally there was a slight hesitancy
+before he replied, as though he were considering the form of words in
+which he should reply. Asked if Inspector Robson was his uncle, he
+answered that he was proud to own it. Asked if he followed any
+occupation, he described himself as a Jack of all trades. &quot;And master
+of none?&quot; queried a juror jocosely. &quot;I won't say that,&quot; replied the
+witness, quickly. &quot;There are some things I can do thoroughly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You accompanied Inspector Robson when he entered the house of the
+deceased on Saturday?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw the body?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. It is the body of Mr. Samuel Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were acquainted with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Intimately. I was in his service nearly three months, and saw him
+daily.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that you can speak with confidence on the point?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With perfect confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you inform us whether the room in which the body was found was
+Mr. Boyd's regular bedroom?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was. He always slept there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Is it the only bedroom in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; there is another bedroom on the second floor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Occupied by any person?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By no person during my service with the deceased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;But at some time or other occupied by another person?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe by Mr. Reginald Boyd when he lived in the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Under what circumstances did he leave his father's house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is hardly a question that should be put to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;You think it would be better to ask Mr. Reginald Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is for you to decide.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You were in the house yesterday?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We understand you are searching for a will?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And have found none?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I am now going to put a question to you which I put to
+Inspector Robson. When you saw the body did you receive any impression
+as to the length of time Mr. Boyd had been dead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. He must have been dead four or five days at least.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;They are stark staring mad!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I assure Lady Wharton that if she persists in these
+interruptions she cannot be allowed to remain in Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The evidence of Constable Applebee, who was the next witness, was then
+taken. Catchpole Square is within the radius of his beat, and not a
+week passed without his seeing Mr. Samuel Boyd two or three times. He
+was positive that the body was that of Samuel Boyd, and he would not
+admit the possibility of his being mistaken.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you see any suspicious persons about on the night of the 1st?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The witness answered &quot;No,&quot; and happened to glance in the direction of
+Lady Wharton, upon which another scene occurred. Her ladyship
+exclaimed, &quot;Gracious Powers! I am in a hornet's nest! Does the man
+suspect <i>me?</i>&quot; It was with difficulty that she was calmed, and it was
+only upon her giving her promise that she would not speak again that
+an order for her removal was not carried out.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Finnis: &quot;Her ladyship visited Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of the
+1st upon a matter of business, and the witness probably saw her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;That is no excuse for these interruptions, Mr. Finnis.&quot;
+(To the witness.) &quot;On any subsequent occasion did you see any
+suspicious persons about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, on the night of the great fog something occurred. The fog was so
+thick that I missed my way, and by accident I stumbled upon Constable
+Pond, whose beat joins mine. We were close by Catchpole Square, and we
+went into it. As we were moving away I saw a woman trying to steal
+from the Square into Deadman's Court. I ran and caught the person by
+the arm, but somehow or other she slipped through my hands and
+escaped.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you see her face?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she was too quick for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At what time did this take place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't say exactly, but it was past midnight.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it usual for people to be in the Square so late?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite unusual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all you can tell us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's all, except----&quot; Here the witness hesitated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Except what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it has nothing to do with the case, but it come into my mind
+that two nights last week I met Mr. Richard Remington near the
+Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You must have met many persons. What is there special in your meeting
+Mr. Remington?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Only that both times it was two or three o'clock in the morning. It
+isn't worth mentioning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The smallest incident in connection with a case of this description
+is worth mentioning. Did you have any conversation with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes. The first time we had a long talk together.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he say what brought him out so late!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, he said he was looking for a lodging.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What! At two or three in the morning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, that is what he said.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It sounds like a joke; he can hardly have been serious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A Juror: &quot;Perhaps Mr. Remington would like to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Richard Remington (from the body of the Court): &quot;I am quite ready
+to explain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to Constable Applebee): &quot;We have nothing further to ask
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Richard Remington was recalled.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have heard what the last witness said in reference to yourself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes; he spoke the truth. I met him on two occasions last week, in the
+middle of the night, and we had a chat. Of course it is absurd to
+suppose I was looking for lodgings at that time, but I intended to do
+so next morning, and I mentioned it to Constable Applebee, thinking it
+likely he might know of a place to suit me. In point of fact he did
+know, and it was upon his introduction that I took a room next day in
+the house of Constable Pond in Paradise Row. You might like to hear
+why I went in the direction of Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog. Well, I was in the Bishop Street Station at about midnight when
+Mrs. Abel Death reported the disappearance of her husband and asked
+the assistance of the police. As I had been in the employ of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd I took an interest in her story, and, my time being my
+own, I thought I would have a look at the old house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Thank you, Mr. Remington.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The last witness called was Mrs. Jewel, a charwoman, whose evidence
+was mainly interesting from the insight it afforded of the singular
+domestic habits of the deceased. She was the only female servant
+employed by Mr. Boyd, and her services were not requisitioned for more
+than two half-days every week. The witness described the deceased as
+the hardest master she ever had. When she swept out a room or made a
+bed he grumbled at the way it was done, and made it an excuse for
+beating her down to the last farthing. She did no cooking for him; he
+took his dinner at some cheap eating house, and prepared his own
+breakfast and tea. &quot;He'd skin a flint,&quot; the witness remarked. The
+value of Mrs. Jewel's evidence lay in her intimate familiarity with
+the personal appearance of the deceased. She swore positively to the
+body, and laughed at the idea of her being mistaken. Some amusement
+was caused by her being hard of hearing, and she resented this by
+giving short snappy replies to the questions put to her, and declining
+to be moved by so much as a hair's breadth from any statement she
+made. The last of these questions were put by the juror who had taken
+so prominent a part in the proceedings, and who resisted every effort
+made by the Coroner to abbreviate his inquiries.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;You worked for the deceased during the time his son, Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, lived in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Jewel: &quot;Of course I did, and Mr. Reginald's a gentleman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were they on good terms with each other?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; she answered, &quot;old Mr. Boyd was always quarrelling with Mr.
+Reginald. He stormed a lot, but Mr. Reginald was very quiet, and
+hardly answered his father. At last he went away, and I don't blame
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing further was elicited from the witness, and the inquiry was
+adjourned till Wednesday, when, the Coroner said, important evidence
+would be laid before the jury.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_34" href="#div1Ref_34">GATHERING CLOUDS.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming.&quot; This was the
+dominant thought in Dick's mind as he emerged from the court.
+Reporters, hurriedly gathering their sheets of notes and sketches,
+were hastening to their respective offices, and persons who had been
+unable to obtain admission were eagerly asking for news of what had
+taken place. The jurymen filed out, with a judicial weight on their
+brows, and the man who had put and prompted so many questions gave
+Dick a searching look as he passed. &quot;I beg your pardon, Mr.
+Remington,&quot; said a cheery interviewer, &quot;I belong to 'The Hourly
+Inquirer,' and if you would give me a few minutes----&quot; &quot;No time for
+interviewing--nothing to say,&quot; interrupted Dick, and hurried on. Of
+which the interviewer made a quarter of a column. Dick was not in the
+mood to impart information or impressions; he had more serious matters
+to think of. It seemed to him as though sinister forces were at work
+inimical to Florence and Reginald. &quot;I wonder,&quot; he thought, &quot;what kind
+of evidence Lady Wharton has to give--she seems terribly in earnest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Clear of the crowd he felt a light touch upon his arm; looking down he
+saw it was Florence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald sent me,&quot; she said; &quot;he is very anxious. Is it over?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not by a long way,&quot; he replied. &quot;People are staring at us. Let us
+walk on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What has been done, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Evidence of identification has been taken, and a lot of stupid and
+unnecessary questions asked. You will read all about it in the papers,
+one part true, and three parts fiction.&quot; He spoke with a light air to
+relieve her mind. &quot;Reporters make the most of everything; it is their
+business to lay on colour pretty thickly. There is one rather
+vexatious thing--your visit to Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has my name been mentioned?&quot; asked Florence, in alarm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, but it may be, and we must consider what we ought to do. Don't
+look distressed; a straightforward explanation will set it right. Docs
+Uncle Rob know you went there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aunt Rob?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. There was no harm in my going----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None whatever, dear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And none in my not speaking of it. There has been so much else to
+think of.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Indeed there has, and you have done everything for the best; but in
+this unfortunate matter Uncle Rob is very delicately and peculiarly
+placed; he is not only privately but officially connected with it. You
+see that, don't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;People are so uncharitable that a false step, though taken quite
+innocently, may lead to trouble. I am afraid you will read many
+unpleasant thing in the papers, and I want you to be prepared for
+them.&quot; She gave him a startled look. &quot;You must have courage,
+Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's right. Now go home and tell them about your visit to Catchpole
+Square, and why you went. I will be there in an hour or so. And don't
+for one moment lose heart. There are some unhappy days before us, but
+before long the clouds will clear, and all will be well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She left him at the entrance to Deadman's Court, and he gave her a
+bright smile to cheer her; but when she was out of sight he murmured
+again, &quot;There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming.&quot; He feared he
+knew not what; every hidden danger seemed to grow, and the dark clouds
+to deepen. How to ward this danger from Florence? This was his aim and
+hope, and to this end he was continually nerving himself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Up to the present nothing but perplexity and mystery had attended his
+search in the house of the murdered man. There were the bottles of
+wine. On the first occasion he had mechanically counted seventy-six
+bottles, on the second occasion seventy-five, and now there were but
+seventy-four. &quot;Either I am out of my senses,&quot; he thought, &quot;or some
+person has been twice in the house since I forced an entrance into
+it.&quot; Wildly improbable as was the suggestion he found it impossible to
+reject it. True, he was not the only person who had been there these
+last two days. Scotland Yard was astir, and had sent detectives and
+policemen, to whom free access was granted by Dick. These officials
+made themselves very busy, but for the most part kept a still tongue.
+Plans of the room were drawn, and every inch of the walls and floors
+and staircases was examined. When it was proposed to photograph the
+blood-stained footprints made by Dick, he looked on calmly, and
+assisted in the preparations.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">On this Monday afternoon the undertaker's men were waiting for Dick in
+the Square, and they followed him upstairs with the coffin. It had
+been a gruesome task, and he felt as if he could not breathe freely
+till the body was taken to its last resting place.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then there was the safe, of which he had found the key. During his
+service with Samuel Boyd this safe had been the receptacle of all the
+documents of value and of all the record books belonging to the dead
+man--bank book, bill book, ledger, mortgage deeds, undue bills, etc.;
+he expected to see these articles in the safe, but to his astonishment
+it contained only a few unimportant papers.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At five o'clock the undertaker's men had departed, and Dick with a
+last look around also took his departure. As he pulled the street door
+behind him he heard a familiar cough, and a little hand was slid into
+his. Gracie's hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I'm so glad to see you, Dick,&quot; she said, clinging to him. &quot;I've
+been everywhere to find you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has your father come back?&quot; he asked, in sudden expectation that she
+brought him news of the missing man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No such luck. You didn't come to see us yesterday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was too busy, Gracie. Are you any better?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ever so much.&quot; Her pallid face and the sunken rims round her large
+black eyes did not confirm the statement. &quot;I can't rest, Dick, I can't
+rest. Is he caught?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who, Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The man that murdered Mr. Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; and God knows when he will be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If God don't catch him,&quot; said Gracie, slowly, &quot;and you don't, <i>I</i><br>
+will. You just see if I don't. I've got to, because of what they're
+saying of father. Dick, if I was a man I'd tear 'em to pieces. Poor
+father! It's too bad, ain't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Altogether too bad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's mother fretting herself to skin and bone. She gets up in the
+night, and goes down to the Mews, and when she thinks nobody sees her
+she cries and cries fit to break her heart; but <i>I</i> see her, and I
+feel like killing somebody!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Not a trace of emotion in her dark little face; no kindling light in
+her eyes; no tremor in her voice. The passion which agitated her was
+expressed only in the clinging of her fingers to the hand of the
+friend in whom she trusted and believed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I dreamt of father last night, Dick,&quot; she continued. &quot;He was running
+as hard as he could, and there was a mob of people after him. I kept
+'em back. 'If you dare,' I cried, 'if you dare!' So we got away
+together, and where do you think we got to?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Couldn't say for my life, Gracie, dreams are such funny things.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, they are, ain't they? We got into Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole
+Square, and we went all over it, into every room, creeping up and down
+the stairs, looking for the murderer. 'You didn't do it, father?' I
+said. He swore a big oath that he was innocent, and he cried to me to
+save him and catch the murderer. I'm going to. I promised I would, and
+I'm going to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was only a dream, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was real. I can hear him now, I can see him now. I've promised to
+catch the murderer, and I'm going to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They had reached Aunt Rob's house, and Dick stopped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must leave you now, Gracie. My friends live here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You won't throw us over, will you? You'll come and see us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I will come.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She raised her face; he stooped and kissed her and she went away with
+a lighter heart.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_35" href="#div1Ref_35">LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">When the jury re-assembled on Wednesday the excitement created by the
+mystery had reached fever heat, and long before the Court was opened a
+crowd of people had gathered round the doors. Numbers of influential
+persons had applied for admission, and as many of these were
+accommodated as the limited space at the disposal of the Coroner would
+permit. The first day's proceedings had whetted curiosity, and many
+members of the aristocracy were present to hear the evidence which
+Lady Wharton was to give, the nature of which had been kept a profound
+secret. The learned professions were adequately represented; the stage
+sent some of its best actors and actresses, and literature some of its
+most famous authors. Never in the history of crime had a gathering so
+notable assembled at the initial inquiry into the circumstances of a
+mystery murder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The murdered man had been buried the previous day, and a vast
+concourse of people had attended the funeral. Reginald--still very
+weak--and Florence were the chief mourners, and in their carriage were
+Inspector Robson and his wife. There was but one other mourning
+carriage, and this was occupied by Dick and the poor charwoman who had
+been fitfully employed domestically by the deceased. The newspapers
+devoted columns to descriptions of the funeral and to those pictorial
+sketches of personages and incidents which have become almost a craze
+in up-to-date journalism. Standing by the grave, Dick, looking over
+the heads of the people, saw Gracie and her mother and Dr. Vinsen,
+side by side. Mrs. Death was in tears, Gracie wore her accustomed
+impassive expression, and Dr. Vinsen bared his halo to the skies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My young friend, my dear young friend,&quot; he said, sidling up to Dick,
+&quot;this is the end of a crafty life, but let us extend our pity--ex-tend
+our pi-ty. The grave, like charity, covereth a multitude of sins. We
+will be clement; we will soften our judgment; it is the least we can
+do in the presence of death, in the solemn presence of death. If it
+teaches us a lesson, Mr. Samuel Boyd will not have lived in vain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What lesson?&quot; asked Dick, half angrily; the voice, the manner, jarred
+upon him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The lesson of humility, of charity--sweet charity--of justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You call the life that ends here,&quot; said Dick, pointing to the grave,
+&quot;a crafty life. Where does justice come in?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, my young friend,&quot; responded Dr. Vinsen, shaking his head
+remonstrantly, &quot;ah, my dear young friend!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Meaning--what?&quot; demanded Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Meaning that you are young, that you have much to learn, much to
+unlearn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You speak in enigmas,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Good day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not in anger,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, gently, &quot;not in anger, my dear young
+friend, lest the dead rise to reproach you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is better where he is,&quot; said Dick, cynically. &quot;I knew him--did
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I had not the privilege. In life we never met.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you take it very much to heart. Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My heart is large; it bleeds for all.&quot; He laid his hand upon the
+shoulder of Mrs. Death, and repeated, &quot;It bleeds for all.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More enigmas--more platitudes,&quot; said Dick, scornfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen looked at him with a pitying smile. &quot;I fear I do not find
+favour in your eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To speak plainly, you do not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To speak plainly is commendable. But give a reason for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot. You have a scientist for a friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Pye? Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will tell you that there are certain chemicals that will not mix.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not need to be told. I know it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, Dr. Vinsen, <i>we</i> don't mix; and there's an end of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my young friend, not an end of it. The end is there, for him, for
+you, for all. Better for some of us if we were in our graves.&quot; There
+was no change in his voice; it was mild, benignant, reproachful.
+&quot;Better, far better, for some of us if we were in our graves. Come,
+Mrs. Death; come, Gracie, my child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They turned away, but not before Gracie had taken Dick's hand and
+kissed it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And now, on Wednesday morning, the Coroner took his place, and
+addressed the jury in the following terms:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Upon the opening of this inquiry I advised you to keep an open mind
+respecting it, and to turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and
+reports which were in circulation. I feel it necessary to repeat this
+caution. The extraordinary statements which have appeared in the
+public press may or may not have a foundation of fact, but with these
+statements we have nothing to do, and I beg you to dismiss them. You
+are here to give your verdict in accordance with the evidence which
+will be presented to you, and not in accordance with unauthorised and
+unverified rumour. If you do this without fear or favour you will have
+performed your duty. Before medical evidence is taken Inspector Robson
+has requested permission to make a statement, to which, as he is an
+important witness in the case, I see no objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson was then called.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Does the statement you wish to make, Inspector Robson,
+relate to the present inquiry?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson: &quot;It does, Mr. Coroner, though it has no direct
+bearing upon it. A matter has come to my knowledge since Monday which,
+although it is purely of a private nature, I consider it my duty to
+make public. Constable Applebee, in his evidence on that day,
+mentioned that on the night of the 5th, when he was in Catchpole
+Square, he saw a woman there whom he challenged, and who escaped from
+him. The incident was reported at the Bishop Street Station, and note
+was taken of it. I wish to state that the lady he challenged is my
+daughter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were not aware of the fact when Constable Applebee was under
+examination?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was not. My daughter, hearing on Monday that the incident had been
+mentioned in court, informed me that it was she who had visited
+Catchpole Square on the night in question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there any special reason why she did not inform you of it before?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None. Had the matter been of importance she would have spoken of it
+earlier.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps we had better hear from her own lips the reason of her visit.
+Is she in court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let her be called.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Florence came forward. She was sitting between Reginald and her
+mother, who gave her an encouraging smile as she left them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You have heard what your father has said. There is no
+obligation upon you to state why you went to Catchpole Square at such
+an hour on such a night; but we are ready to listen to any explanation
+you may desire to make.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Florence: &quot;I will answer any questions you ask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Previous to your visit where were you on that night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At my husband's lodgings in Park Street, Islington. He was very ill,
+and I was nursing him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he send you for his father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he was delirious. He spoke of his father several times, and it
+appeared to me to be my duty to make him acquainted with his son's
+dangerous condition. There was no one else to go but myself, and I
+went to Catchpole Square because I considered it right to do so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror (who had taken so conspicuous a part in Monday's
+proceedings): &quot;When he spoke of his father, what were his precise
+words?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I do not think the witness should be asked that
+question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Florence: &quot;Oh, yes, there is nothing to conceal. He simply said, 'My
+father, my father!' and I gathered from that that he wished to see
+him. It was natural that I should think so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Quite natural. You arrived at Catchpole Square, and
+knocked at the door of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I knocked a good many times, but no one answered me. As I was
+about to leave the square I heard voices, and saw, very dimly, two men
+very close to me. I did not know they were policemen, and one of them
+called out to me to stop, and caught hold of me. I was so frightened
+that I tore myself away, and ran out of the Square as quickly as I
+could.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Did you know at that time that your husband was not on
+good terms with his father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You need not answer that question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish to answer every question. I did know it, and I knew that there
+was no fault on my husband's part. It was my hope that his illness
+would lead to a reconciliation between them. I thank God that my
+husband is spared to me, but if he had died I should never have
+forgiven myself if I had not made the attempt to bring his father to
+him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, Mrs. Boyd; that is all we have to ask.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A buzz of admiration ran through the court as Florence returned to her
+seat by Reginald's side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Talbot Rowbottom, of Harley Street, a member of the Royal College
+of Surgeons and a doctor of medicine, was then called.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You examined the body of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, on Sunday, at the request of Mr. Reginald Boyd, who wrote me a
+note to that effect. I had read of the discovery of the body in the
+newspapers, and, anticipating an inquest, I called first upon you, as
+coroner of the district, and received your permission to make the
+examination.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did the deceased die a natural death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. He met his death by strangulation.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have no doubt upon the subject?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not the slightest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He could not have strangled himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From the condition of the body that is impossible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Does your examination of the body warrant you in saying that there
+was resistance on the part of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Great resistance. There is every indication of a violent struggle
+having taken place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that the orderly state of the bed and bedclothes was unnatural?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Most unnatural. After the deed was done singular care must have been
+taken to compose the limbs and arrange the bedclothes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you consider it likely that, during the struggle, the deceased
+succeeded in getting out of bed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More than likely. I observed upon the body traces of bruises which
+could not have been produced had the deceased remained in bed. There
+was a bruise upon the shin of the right leg, another on the head, and
+another on the right shoulder. These must have been caused by the
+deceased coming into violent contact with heavy pieces of furniture.
+Above the left eye there was an abrasion from a similar cause.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was there any wound on the body such as might have been caused by a
+knife or a pistol?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is the furniture in the bedroom of a sufficiently heavy character to
+cause the wounds and abrasions you spoke of?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is no heavy furniture in the bedroom. My impression is that the
+deceased was first attacked in his sleep, that he awoke, that in the
+course of the struggle he succeeded in getting out of bed, and
+dragged, or was dragged by his assailant or assailants, into the
+adjoining apartment, where the furniture is of a much more substantial
+description.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you consider it likely that the deceased could have called for
+help during the struggle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not to any appreciable extent. The compression of the windpipe was
+remarkable, and under such compression the capacity of the vocal
+chords must have been considerably weakened. Even had he succeeded in
+releasing himself for a few moments he could not in that brief time
+have regained control of his voice. The exhaustion would have been too
+great.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Dr. Rowbottom, you examined the body on Sunday, the l0th. Can
+you state with some degree of precision on what approximate date the
+deceased met his death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He must have been dead at least eight days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That takes us back to Sunday, the 3rd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. And it is probable that he died the day before, on the
+Saturday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At these words, which were uttered with decision, there was a
+commotion in the part of the court in which Lady Wharton was sitting,
+but the Coroner looking with some severity in that direction, her
+ladyship, who had risen to her feet, obeyed the injunction of her
+counsel not to speak. She sank back in her seat, and evinced her
+agitation by a vigorous fluttering of her fan. When the excitement
+caused by this interruption had subsided, the Coroner continued.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The deceased being in his night attire, we may take it that he died
+either on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, or on the night of
+Saturday, the 2nd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly on one of those nights.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Absolutely certain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Absolutely certain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. John Webster, of Canonbury Square, and Dr. Lipman, of Wimpole
+Street, who were next examined, corroborated in every respect the
+evidence of Dr. Rowbottom, and agreed with the conclusions at which he
+had arrived. They spoke positively to the fact that the deceased had
+been brutally murdered, and to the presumption that the murder had
+taken place either on the Friday or the Saturday night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this stage of the inquiry Mr. Finnis, Q.C., requested the Coroner
+to take Lady Wharton as the next witness. Her ladyship, he said, had
+evidence of an extraordinary nature to give which would throw an
+entirely new light upon the inquiry, and it was most important that
+there should be as little delay as possible in hearing what she had to
+say.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Before Lady Wharton is examined there is official
+information to lay before the jury. An officer from the detective
+department in Scotland Yard is present, and we will hear him first. He
+has duties elsewhere, and is anxious to be relieved from a longer
+attendance in this court than is absolutely necessary. His evidence
+will open up matter which may have a bearing on the verdict. Call Mr.
+Lambert.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This gentleman, whose name is well known in association with many
+celebrated criminal cases, stepped forward and was sworn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are a detective in official service?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have visited the house of the deceased in Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On three occasions. The first on Sunday, the second on Monday, the
+third yesterday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whom did you find in charge there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Richard Remington, who gave me every facility for a thorough
+examination of the premises.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Describe what steps you took, and their result.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I first examined the bedroom and the adjoining office. On the floor
+of both rooms I observed the marks of a man's footsteps, with stains
+of blood which had been trodden upon. In three places the footmarks
+were partially outlined in these stains, and I took photographs of
+them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are these the photographs?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner passed the photographs to the jury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you form the conclusion that they are the footsteps of a man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The boots are those of a man, and the size, No. 8, is an unusual size
+for a woman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were there marks of other footsteps?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could these footsteps have been made by the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. The deceased was flat-footed; the man who wore the boots had a
+defined arch in his soles. Here are photographs of the soles of
+deceased's boots; you will see a marked difference in the size and
+shape.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The photographs were produced, and examined by the Coroner and the
+jury.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;After searching the bedroom and the adjoining office you proceeded to
+another part of the premises.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With your permission I will first finish with these two rooms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well. Proceed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The walls of the office are partially hung with old tapestry, and I
+observed in one place that a hand had clutched it. The finger marks
+are still discernible, and the tapestry has not returned to its
+original folds. This indicates that, during a struggle, one of the men
+had caught hold of it. Upon parts of the wall not covered with
+tapestry are scratches which seem to have been made by finger nails.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Recent scratches?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Made within the last two or three weeks.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you consider it certain that there was a struggle between the
+deceased and his assailant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am positive there was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In that case would there not have been, in addition to the defined
+blood stains of footmarks, smears of blood upon the floor?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was coming to that. There is no doubt that a prolonged struggle
+took place, but the absence of blood-smears, such as would have been
+caused by the naked feet of the deceased, proves that the wound from
+which the blood proceeded could not have been inflicted during the
+struggle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before or after?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;After. If blood had dropped upon the floor before the struggle it
+would have taken some time to dry, and signs of dragging feet would
+have been observable. Besides, there would have been blood-stains on
+the naked feet of the deceased. There were none. Examining farther I
+discovered a bullet in the wall, which I extracted, and which must
+have been fired within the last two or three weeks. The bore is .320,
+the barrel of the pistol, four inch. The weapon used was probably a
+Colt's ejector revolver.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Probably, you say. Did you not find the pistol?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I inquired of Mr. Remington whether he had found one. He had
+not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that you cannot say whether the shot was fired by the deceased or
+his assailant?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was that the only bullet you found?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The only one. My examination of these two rooms concluded, I turned
+my attention to other parts of the house. On the stairs leading from
+the street door to the bedroom I picked up two pieces of brown paper,
+with small pieces of wax adhering to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you examine the back of the premises?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. Over the basement rooms, which had not been used for a
+considerable time, was a window which had been broken from without,
+and broken by an unskilled hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you arrive at the conclusion that the window was broken from
+without?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By the splinters of glass on the floor of the room, and by the broken
+pieces remaining in the panes, the jagged edges of which are a
+verification of my statement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We should like to hear your reason for saying that the hand that
+broke the window was unskilled?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A regular burglar would have been provided with tools which would
+have enabled him to cut the glass without running the risk of personal
+injury.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But might not such a man have adopted these rougher means for the
+purpose of averting suspicion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have never known it done by a skilled burglar. It was through this
+window that the man effected an entrance. Continuing my investigation
+I came to the wall which surrounds the back of the house, and there I
+received confirmation of the theory I had formed. The man had brought
+with him a rope to which a grapnel was attached. This rope he had
+thrown up from the outside until the grapnel caught in the mortar at
+the top of the wall. Then he climbed up; the rest was easy. The marks
+of the grapnel are plainly discernible, and the freshness of the
+loosened mortar proves that but a short time has elapsed since he paid
+his last visit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it your opinion that there was more than one visit?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As to that I have formed no opinion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All this must have taken some time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and was done at night when there were few people about. The
+street on which the dead wall abuts is but little frequented. The
+movements of the policeman on the beat were doubtless carefully
+noted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Should you say that robbery was the object of this burglarious
+entrance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a fair presumption.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you search the clothes of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. Mr. Remington had gone through the pockets before I came, and
+had replaced what he found in them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror who had asked previous questions: &quot;How do you know that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He told me so. The watch and chain had not been taken, and there was
+money in his purse, a £5 note and some gold and silver, £9 18s. in
+all. I opened the safe; there were no articles of value in it. If
+there had been any before the death of the deceased they had been
+removed, and the key put back in its original place.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You found no burglars' tools about?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor tools of any kind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There were desks and drawers in the room adjoining the bedroom. Did
+any of the locks appear to have been forced?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have no further questions to ask you, Mr. Lambert. Call Lady
+Wharton.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Expectation ran high at this summons. The scenes in Court in which her
+ladyship had played a principal part, and her excited comments upon a
+vital point in the inquiry, had caused her evidence to be looked
+forward to with intense interest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;We understand that you have a communication of
+importance to make to the jury, and we are now prepared to hear what
+you have to say. You were acquainted with the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;Whom do you mean by the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You are here to answer questions, Lady Wharton, not to
+ask them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;But I do ask them. I want to know whom you mean by the
+deceased.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd, of course. You were acquainted with
+him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was very slightly acquainted with him. As a matter of fact I saw
+him only twice in my life. The first time was on the evening of
+Friday, the 1st of March. Lord Wharton had entered into certain
+financial transactions with Mr. Boyd, which did not come to my
+knowledge till a week or two before that date. Some settlement had to
+be made respecting these transactions, and Lord Wharton being ill, I
+undertook the business, having also a little business of my own to do
+with him. So far as I am aware there was no person in the house except
+Mr. Boyd when I called upon him in Catchpole Square. The business
+being of a private nature I entered alone, and ordered my servant to
+wait outside for me in the Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At what hour was this visit paid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At eight o'clock, and I remained with him thirty or forty minutes. I
+had brought with me some bills signed by Lord Wharton and endorsed by
+my brother, Lord Fairfax. In return for these bills I should have
+received bills not then due. It slipped my mind at the time, and I
+wrote to him about them, and about another matter as well. In his
+reply he promised to bring the old bills to our place in Bournemouth
+on Thursday night, the 7th.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A moment if you please. Do you say that you received a letter from
+the deceased on a date subsequent to Friday, the 1st of March?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I say that I received a letter from Mr. Samuel Boyd on the 6th of
+March, and that I saw him on the night of the 7th.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So great was the commotion in the Court at this statement that it was
+two or three minutes before order was restored.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Do you seriously assert this, Lady Wharton, in the teeth
+of the medical evidence that Mr. Samuel Boyd met his death on the
+night of the 1st or the 2nd of March?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;A fig for the medical evidence! Mr. Samuel Boyd was
+alive last Thursday night, and it is my belief that he is alive at
+this moment!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Surely, surely, Lady Wharton----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton (interrupting excitedly): &quot;And surely, surely, Mr.
+Coroner! Am I to believe the evidence of my senses? I tell you I saw
+the man last Thursday night, and had a conversation with him; and as
+his body has not been found, Mr. Samuel Boyd is alive now, and is
+keeping out of the way, like the thief and scoundrel he is, for the
+purpose of robbing me!&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_36" href="#div1Ref_36">THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">These words, spoken loudly and emphatically, acted like a spark upon
+gunpowder, and it was not until the Coroner threatened several times
+to clear the Court that order was again restored. From Lady Wharton
+the attention of the audience was turned to Reginald, whose head was
+bowed in shame. Some pitied him, some condemned him, and all were
+feverishly curious to hear the outcome of Lady Wharton's disclosures.
+The only crumb of comfort Reginald received was expressed in the close
+clasp of Florence's hand. Fearlessly and indignantly the young girl
+faced the eyes that were directed towards her and her husband; her
+cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, as though crying shame upon
+those who seemed to be mutely accusing the man she loved. Dick looked
+contemptuously upon these silent accusers, and Aunt Rob glared at
+them; it was with some difficulty that Uncle Rob prevented her from
+addressing Lady Wharton in terms of indignant reproach. &quot;Keep still,
+mother, keep still,&quot; he whispered, &quot;you will only make matters worse.&quot;
+So she held her tongue, and nursed her wrath in bitterness of spirit.
+During the course of this drama of human passion and emotion Mr.
+Finnis, Q.C., rose and addressed the Court.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lady Wharton,&quot; he said, &quot;has suffered a grievous wrong, and however
+strongly she may express herself, it cannot for one moment be doubted
+that she is speaking what she believes to be the truth. An endeavour
+has been made to prove that Mr. Samuel Boyd was murdered on the Friday
+or Saturday night of the week before last. We do not impeach the
+witnesses, we do not say that they have spoken from interested
+motives. What we do say is that they are in error. That Mr. Samuel
+Boyd did not meet his death at the time mentioned is proved by the
+fact that Lady Wharton saw and conversed with him five or six days
+afterwards. Her testimony is supported by that of her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, who is now in Court, and who also saw and conversed with him.
+As you may gather from her evidence we go farther than that; we say
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd has not been murdered. Her ladyship, as you will
+presently learn, has had, unfortunately for herself, some business
+transactions with Mr. Samuel Boyd, and in view of the strange mystery
+which surrounds the case, I have advised her to make these
+transactions public. I ask you now, Mr. Coroner, to permit her to
+relate her story with as little interruption from yourself as
+possible; and I would also ask Lady Wharton to control her feelings,
+and to refrain from strong language. There are persons in Court
+related to Mr. Samuel Boyd, to whom such epithets as she has applied
+to him must be extremely painful.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;The extraordinary turn this inquiry has taken renders it
+imperatively necessary that a full disclosure be made of all that has
+passed between Lady Wharton and Mr. Samuel Boyd. Now, if your ladyship
+pleases.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;And kindly do not interrupt me. I have mentioned that I
+paid Mr. Samuel Boyd a visit on the evening of Friday, the 1st of
+March. On that occasion I gave him bills for a considerable amount in
+renewal of bills shortly to fall due, and I foolishly forgot to ask
+him for the return of the old bills. In the course of the interview I
+requested him--(it is perfectly abominable that I should be compelled
+to speak of it, but I suppose it cannot be prevented)--I requested him
+to advance me a thousand pounds for my personal use, quite apart from
+the business between him and Lord Wharton. With some idea of the
+character of the man I was dealing with, I had brought with me as
+security for the loan certain articles of jewellery of great value,
+for which I had no immediate use, and which I handed over to him.
+After inspecting them he consented to advance the money, but said he
+could not let me have it immediately--which, of course, was a trick
+and subterfuge. I told him that I was going out of town, to our place
+in Bournemouth, and he said he would bring the sum to me there on
+Thursday night--last Thursday, you know--in bank notes. With that
+understanding I left him. Two days afterwards it was brought to my
+recollection that Mr. Boyd had not returned the old bills, and I wrote
+to him about them. At the same time I mentioned that I needed a much
+larger sum for my private personal use than we had arranged for, and I
+requested him to bring £1,500, promising to give him further security
+in the shape of additional jewels, for there is only one way of
+dealing with these Shylocks: they <i>must</i> have their pound of flesh. He
+replied that he would bring the money and the old bills on Thursday
+night. We were giving a ball on that night, and as I did not wish such
+a person to mix with our guests I decided to finish the business with
+him in a retired part of the grounds, and I instructed my servants to
+that effect. He had the assurance not to present himself till one in
+the morning, when a servant brought me his card. I went to the spot I
+had appointed, and there I saw Mr. Samuel Boyd. I asked him if he had
+brought the money; he answered that he had, and he produced a small
+packet, which he declined to part with till I gave him the additional
+jewels I had promised as security. The scoundrel assumed an air of
+saucy independence which completely deceived me The jewels were in the
+house, and Lord Fairfax happening to be passing at that moment I
+called to him and requested him to remain with Mr. Boyd while I went
+to fetch them. When I returned I gave them to Mr. Boyd, who then
+handed me the packet, saying that it contained the £1,500 in bank
+notes and the old bills. As I could not count the money in the grounds
+I went to the house again, accompanied by Lord Fairfax, and opening
+the packet, discovered that I had been robbed. There were no bills
+inside, and no money, nothing but blank paper cunningly folded to make
+it feel like bank notes. I hurried back, with the intention of giving
+the thief into custody, but though search was made for him in every
+direction he was not to be found. I want to know what has become of
+him and of my property.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;This is a strange story, Lady Wharton, and is in direct
+conflict with the evidence that has been tendered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;The evidence that has been tendered is in direct
+conflict with the facts of the case. In all my life I have never heard
+such a tissue of misrepresentations and delusions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May you not yourself be labouring under a delusion?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You had better say at once that I am not in my right senses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pray do not speak so excitedly. May you not have been deceived by an
+accidental likeness to Mr. Samuel Boyd in the person who presented
+himself?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is an absurd suggestion. There is no possibility of my having been
+mistaken. I tell you it was the man himself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Did you keep a copy of the letter you wrote to Mr.
+Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;I am not in the habit of keeping copies of my letters.
+I leave that to tradesmen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you the letter you received from him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have brought it with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton handed the letter to the Coroner, who read it aloud:</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd presents his compliments to Lady Wharton, and will
+have the pleasure of waiting upon her ladyship on Thursday night with
+the bills which he forgot to return last Friday evening, and with the
+additional advance her ladyship requires. Mr. Boyd hopes that her
+ladyship will be prepared with the jewels she speaks of, and that they
+will be adequate security for the increase in the loan.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Catchpole Square, N., 5th March, 1896.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton: &quot;And people come here and swear that at the time the man
+wrote that letter he had been dead five days! Can anything be more
+preposterous?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;We shall have witnesses before us who are familiar with
+Mr. Boyd's handwriting, and this letter will be submitted to them.
+Have you the visiting card Mr. Boyd gave your servant in Bournemouth?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could you identify the jewels?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can swear to them, if they are fortunately recovered.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all I have to ask you at present, Lady Wharton. If Lord
+Fairfax is present perhaps he will come forward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lord Fairfax (advancing from the body of the Court): &quot;No objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have heard the account given by Lady Wharton of the visit of a
+person last Thursday night who announced himself as Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw that person?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you had any dealings with Mr. Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Happy to say, no.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you are not acquainted with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not the pleasure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you cannot say it was Mr. Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take Lady Wharton's word for it. Her ladyship presented him. She
+said, 'Mr. Samuel Boyd, Catchpole Square.' I said, 'Ah.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You conversed with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He conversed with me. Fifty words to my one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was the subject of the conversation?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Money. Asked if I wanted it. I said every fellow wanted it. Said he
+would be happy to oblige. I said, 'Ah.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When Lady Wharton returned did you remain with them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At her request. Saw her give him jewels. Saw him give her packet. Saw
+her dismiss him. Glad to be rid of fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You went back to the house, and was present when she opened the
+packet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. Blank paper. Infernal scoundrel.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was information given to the police?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wanted to. Lady Wharton said no, go to lawyer. Went to Mr. Finnis
+Saturday. Then, surprising report in papers. Man murdered, or supposed
+to be.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all you know, Lord Fairfax?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to the jury): &quot;Before we call Mr. Reginald Boyd I wish to
+ask Mr. Richard Remington a question or two, arising out of Lady
+Wharton's evidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The profound amazement with which Dick had listened to this evidence
+was not reflected in his countenance as he stepped airily forward.
+Never in his life had he so strongly felt the need for dissimulation
+as at the present time. It was forced upon him--by the discoveries he
+had himself made and by the testimony of the witnesses who had been
+examined--that in this mystery another agency was at work the
+existence of which he had hitherto only dimly suspected. The person
+who had presented himself to Lady Wharton as Samuel Boyd and had
+committed the fraud upon her must have been intimately familiar with
+the business operations of the murdered man, and must have had free
+access to the house in Catchpole Square. He must also have a talent
+for disguise to have so imposed upon Lady Wharton. He could think of
+but one person who had the knowledge requisite to carry out the
+deception--Abel Death. But to do what Lady Wharton had described
+needed courage, coolness, skill, and an evenly balanced brain; none
+but a master of resource, and one who had perfect command over
+himself, could have brought to a successful issue a task so difficult.
+Dick could hardly believe that Abel Death was equal to a man[oe]uvre
+so daring, a scheme so full of peril, in which a single false step
+would bring destruction upon him. Dick felt as if every hour added a
+new mystery to those that lay unsolved. He had one cause for deep
+gratitude, and he gladly welcomed it. These disclosures helped to
+dispel the cloud of suspicion that hung over Reginald. Whatever else
+he might have done, he could have had no personal part in the
+duplicity and in the robbery of the jewels. How far this would help to
+clear him in the minds of others who might suspect him had yet to be
+seen. They might argue that he was in league with another man, and
+that the imposition practised upon Lady Wharton was part of a
+cunningly laid scheme, all the details of which had been carefully
+considered and mapped out beforehand. There was, indeed, but little
+light in the cloud that hung over Florence's husband.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the state of Dick's mind when he submitted himself for the
+third time to the Coroner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Since you were examined on Monday, have you continued
+your search in Mr. Samuel Boyd's house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick: &quot;Yes, I have carefully searched every room, every cupboard,
+every drawer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you found any jewels?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Any bills of acceptance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing of any value?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look at this visiting card which was presented to Lady Wharton on
+Thursday night in Bournemouth. Do you recognise it as one of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's regular visiting cards?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is exactly like. There are thirty or forty similar cards in a
+drawer in the writing table.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are doubtless familiar with Mr. Boyd's handwriting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was very familiar with it, but that is some time ago. I may err in
+my recollection of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So far as your recollection serves is this letter received by Lady
+Wharton on the 6th of March, and dated the 5th, in his writing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It cannot be his writing because on the 5th of March he was dead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Confine yourself strictly to answering the questions put to you.
+Should you say it was in Mr. Samuel Boyd's handwriting?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick examined the letter with great care. He had in his pocket at that
+very moment proof positive in the shape of the incriminating document
+written by Samuel Boyd only a few hours before he was murdered, the
+production of which would have caused Reginald's instant arrest. The
+writing on the letter was like it, and he would have given much to be
+able to compare them. After a long pause he said, &quot;It looks like his
+writing, but I am not an expert in caligraphy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner made a gesture as if he had exhausted his questions, and
+Dick was about to step back, when the Juror interposed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Have you found a pistol of any kind in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, who is prompting you?&quot; thought Dick, as he confronted the Juror,
+a sallow-faced, pock-marked man, with an aggressive voice. &quot;No,&quot; he
+answered aloud, &quot;I found no pistol.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;The detective officer who has been examined spoke of a
+recently fired bullet which he extracted from the wall of the office.
+How is it that in your evidence on Monday you said nothing of this
+bullet?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick: &quot;In the first place, because I was not asked. In the second
+place, because on Monday nothing was known about it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a titter in Court at this, and the juror flushed up and was
+silent.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;When was the bullet found?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick: &quot;Yesterday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It had escaped your notice before the detective officer pointed it
+out?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was I who first pointed it out. We were examining the wall
+together when I said, 'What is this?' My question led to the discovery
+of the bullet.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Call Mr. Reginald Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A firm pressure of Florence's hand, and Reginald faced the jury. Dick
+moved a little nearer to the young wife, whose heart was throbbing
+violently. Reginald was very pale, and traces of the sickness he had
+passed through were visible in his face, though he bore himself with
+composure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You have been ill, and probably would like to be
+seated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;Thank you, Mr. Coroner, I prefer to stand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As you please. We understand that you went to your father's house in
+Catchpole Square to see the body of the deceased?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I went there on Sunday.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw the body?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And identified it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. It was my father's body.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In the teeth of the conflicting evidence that has been given, you are
+positive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am positive. I wish with all my heart and soul that there was room
+for doubt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We recognise that your position is a painful one, and we should, of
+course, wish to hear all the evidence it is in your power to give, but
+I consider it right to say that you are not compelled to answer every
+question put to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is no question that I shall decline to answer. I am a willing
+witness in a most unhappy tragedy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When did you last see your father alive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On Friday the 1st of March.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before that day were you in the habit of visiting him regularly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before that day I had not seen him for two years. I regret to say we
+were not on friendly terms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;What was the cause of the disagreement between you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;We cannot have that at this point of the inquiry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;The witness states that there is no question that he will
+decline to answer, and the inquiry will be incomplete unless we arrive
+at all the facts of the case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;I am willing to answer everything.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;We will proceed in something like order. The last time
+you saw your father alive was on Friday the 1st of March. Did the
+interview take place in his house in Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, on that day I paid two visits to the house, the first in the
+afternoon, the second at night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;How did you obtain admittance in the afternoon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to the Juror): &quot;I must request you not to make these
+frequent interruptions; they tend to confuse the issue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;With all due respect, sir, it is the jury who have to
+return the verdict&quot;----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Under my guidance and direction.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Not entirely. We are not simply machines. You can advise
+us, and clear up knotty points, but you cannot dictate to us.
+Otherwise you might as well hold this inquiry without our aid. The
+question I put to the witness is a very simple one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Very well.&quot; (To Reginald.) &quot;Did you obtain admission
+into your father's house on Friday afternoon in the usual way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;No. I knocked at the door two or three times, and receiving
+no answer, admitted myself with a private latchkey I had in my
+pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;You see, Mr. Coroner, I had an object in asking the
+question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;How did you become possessed of the latchkey?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;It was one I used when I lived in Catchpole Square with my
+father. When I left the home I took it with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Having let yourself in, what then did you do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I went upstairs to the office in the expectation of seeing my father.
+He was not at home. The only person in the house was his clerk, Abel
+Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were personally acquainted with Abel Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And on friendly terms with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why did he not open the street door for you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He had been instructed not to admit anyone during my father's
+absence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not even to go down to the door to see who it was who sought
+entrance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not even that. He was ordered not to stir out of the office.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was your father a very strict man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very strict.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Had you a definite object in view when you paid the visit, apart from
+the natural desire to see him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I had. My circumstances were not good, and I went to see if I could
+not improve them. My mother had left me a small fortune, and had
+appointed a trustee to administer it. This trustee had given me to
+understand that when I was of age I should come into possession of
+£8,000. I spent my youth and early manhood abroad, and when I returned
+home my trustee was dead, and my father had the disposition of my
+inheritance. He wished me to join him in his business, but I had a
+distaste for it, and we had many arguments and discussions on the
+subject.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Quarrels?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose they would be considered so. We were equally firm, and the
+consequence of our disagreement was that there was a breach between
+us, which ended in my leaving his house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Voluntarily?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He sent me away. Before I left he asked me what I intended to live
+upon, and I answered that I had my inheritance. Greatly to my surprise
+he informed me that all the money had been spent upon me during and
+three or four years after my minority. He showed me a statement of
+accounts which I did not understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Interrupting you here, has that statement of accounts been found
+among your father's papers?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No statement of accounts has been found. Shall I proceed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you wish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is hardly my wish, but I certainly desire to anticipate questions
+which might be put to me by the jury.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Quite right. It will save trouble.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;I questioned the correctness of these accounts, and my
+father said he was ready to prove their correctness in a court of law.
+Such a course was repugnant to my feelings, and we parted, my resolve
+being to carve out a path for myself. I was not fortunate, and on the
+day I visited my father I was practically penniless. I was then
+married, and I desired to make a home for my wife, which in my then
+circumstances was not possible. It was this which drove me to making
+another appeal to my father to restore money which I believed was
+rightfully mine. On the occasion of my afternoon visit I remained only
+a short time with Mr. Abel Death, and before I left I informed him of
+my intention to come again at night. I paid my second visit at about
+ten o'clock, which I thought was the best time to find my father
+alone. I knocked at the door, and he came down and asked who was
+there. He recognised my voice when I answered him, and he refused to
+admit me. I told him from without that I was determined to see him, if
+not that night, the next day or night, and if not then, that I would
+continue my efforts until I succeeded. Upon that he unlocked and
+unbolted the door, and I entered and followed him upstairs into the
+office, where I explained the motive for my visit. I informed him that
+I was married, and that it was necessary I should provide for my wife.
+We were together half an hour or so, and he refused to assist me, and
+denied that any money was due to me. I offered to accept a small sum,
+and to sign a full quittance, but he turned a deaf ear to all my
+appeals, and at length I left him. Mr. Coroner, I am aware that in
+this disclosure I have touched upon matters which do not come strictly
+within the scope of your inquiry. I have done so because I wish to
+avoid the suspicion of any reluctance on my part to make known to you
+and the jury all my proceedings with respect to my father. Private
+matters have already been introduced which affect me closely, and
+while I dispute the justice of the direction which this inquiry has
+taken I recognise that more mischief may be done by silence than by a
+frank and open confession.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Your statement is a voluntary one, and much of it is not
+pertinent to the inquiry. You say that you visited your father at
+about ten o'clock?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At about that hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You left the house before eleven o'clock?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly before that hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were you and your father quite alone?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did any one apply for admission while you were with him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There was no other person except yourselves in the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not to my knowledge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did your father accompany you to the street door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not think he did.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Cannot you say with certainty?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I regret that, as regards the last few minutes of the interview,
+I cannot entirely depend upon my memory. I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. I have endeavoured in vain to recall every
+incident and word, and it has occurred to me that the fever from which
+I immediately afterwards suffered, and which kept me to my bed for
+several days, may have been upon me then. I have a recollection--not
+very clear--that as I went downstairs I felt in my pocket for the
+latchkey.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For what reason? You did not need the key to open the door from
+within?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot say why I did it. I can only tell you what is in my mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you the latchkey now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I have lost it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not know where.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you searched for it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, without success.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Between your two visits to your father on that Friday did you come
+into communication with Mr. Abel Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you not see him in Catchpole Square, or in its vicinity?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I repeat that I did not see him, and had no communication with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Angry words passed between you and your father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am afraid so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Threatening words?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not on my part.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On his?&quot; (A momentary pause.) &quot;I do not insist upon a reply.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I will reply. My father threatened to bring an action against me
+for a balance of £1,200, which he said was due to him on the account.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You disputed the correctness of the account?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly I disputed it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you accuse your father of fraud?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Order, order!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The question was not answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Is it true that during these last two years you have been
+living under an assumed name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have been passing as Mr. Reginald. Reginald is my Christian name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was it as Mr. Reginald you introduced yourself to the family of
+Inspector Robson?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was introduced to them by that name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They did not know you were the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They did not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you did not inform them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not for some time--not, indeed, till I was married.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is quite lately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any objection to inform us why you suppressed the name of
+Boyd? Were you ashamed of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are pressing me rather hardly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I quite agree. Many of these questions are totally
+irrelevant.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Surely, Mr. Coroner, it is of importance that we should be
+made acquainted with the true state of the relations existing between
+Mr. Samuel Boyd and his only child. Putting aside Lady Wharton's
+statements and impressions, and assuming that the medical evidence is
+correct, the witness is the last person who saw the deceased alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;That is not so. Some person or persons must have seen him
+after I left him on Friday night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Well, the last person who has given evidence in this
+Court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you taken out letters of administration?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As matters stand at present you are the only person who has benefited
+by the death of your father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I will not allow questions of this nature to be put to
+the witness, who has given his evidence very fairly, and has shown
+every disposition to assist the Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;I should like to explain that I did not know my father had
+not made a will. My impression was that he had made one, disinheriting
+me. Even now, although no will has yet been found, one may be
+forthcoming.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Extremely unlikely. There has been plenty of time for its
+production.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You have heard the evidence respecting the bullet in the
+wall. Is it within your knowledge that your father kept a pistol by
+him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald: &quot;During the time I lived with him he always had a loaded
+pistol. It was a Colt's revolver. I do not know whether, during the
+last two years, he continued to keep it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did your father ever fire the pistol?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never, to my knowledge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On what day were you taken ill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On the day following my visit to my father. I recollect feeling giddy
+and light-headed when I returned home that night. I went to bed about
+midnight, and the next morning I was too ill to rise. The
+circumstances of my marriage have been made public in the course of
+this inquiry. I was living alone in Park Street, Islington, and I had
+intervals of consciousness during which I wrote from time to time to
+my wife, who was living with her parents. Eventually she came to nurse
+me, and then the secret of our marriage was at an end. She has related
+how, being alarmed at my condition, she went to Catchpole Square last
+Tuesday night to inform my father, and, if possible, to bring him to
+me. I am deeply, deeply grateful to her for the love and devotion she
+has shown towards me, and to her parents for their kindness and
+consideration.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where were you on Thursday night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ill in bed. For a week, from Saturday to Saturday, I did not leave my
+room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald's loving look towards Florence, and his tender accents in
+speaking of her, made a strong impression upon the spectators as, his
+examination concluded, he retired to his seat by her side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to the jury): &quot;An hour ago I received a communication
+from a gentleman who stated that he had evidence of importance to
+tender which he thinks we ought to hear with as little delay as
+possible. This gentleman, I understand, is in waiting outside. It may
+be a convenient time to examine him. Call Dr. Pye.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_37" href="#div1Ref_37">DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was an interval of almost breathless suspense as, upon the
+Coroner's instructions, an officer left the Court. Dick looked forward
+to the entrance of Dr. Pye with no less curiosity than the other
+spectators, but mingled with this curiosity was an element of alarm.
+Dark forebodings crossed his mind; he feared he knew not what, but
+still he smiled confidently at Florence when she turned imploringly to
+him, for she also was in that state of tension which made every fresh
+feature of the inquiry a terrifying presage. Presently the officer
+returned, followed by Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The new witness was tall, with a slight stoop in his shoulders, his
+face was ashen gray, his brows knit and concentrated, his eyes
+habitually downcast, but, when raised, irradiated with a keen steady
+light, giving one the impression that the pupils might be of steel,
+which was indeed their colour, his mouth with its thin long lips
+compressed, his hands long and nervous, his voice calm, clear, and
+deliberate, his manner altogether that of a man of supreme moral
+strength and self-possession, who could hold his passions in control,
+and make them subservient to his will.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In volunteering a communication which may have some relation to your
+inquiry,&quot; he said, addressing the Coroner, without bestowing a glance
+upon the spectators, &quot;I am impelled simply by a sense of public duty.
+As to its value you will be the best judge. What I have to offer to
+the Court is merely the narration of an occurrence which came under my
+observation on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when I was
+making some experiments in chemistry in a room at the back of my house
+in Shore Street, the window in which looks out upon Catchpole Square,
+and commands a front view of the house in which Mr. Samuel Boyd
+resided. It is my habit to work late, and it was not till three in the
+morning that my labours were at an end. At that hour I was standing at
+the window, gazing aimlessly into the solitude of Catchpole Square,
+when my attention was arrested by movements at Mr. Boyd's street door.
+It was gradually opened, and the form of a man emerged from the house.
+The night was dark, and what I saw was necessarily dim and uncertain
+in my sight, but it appeared to me that the man, halting on the
+threshold, lingered in the attitude of a person who wished to escape
+observation. This impression impelled me to a closer scrutiny of the
+man's movements. I have in my room a device of my own construction in
+the shape of a small box containing a coil of magnesium wire. By
+withdrawing the curtain from a glass globe set in this box, and by
+pressing a spring, I can, upon lighting the wire, throw a powerful
+light upon objects at a great distance, remaining myself in darkness.
+There appeared to me to be something so suspicious in the shadowy
+movements of the person at Mr. Boyd's door at such an hour that I
+brought my box to the window, and threw the light upon the Square. It
+was the work of a moment, but in that moment I had a clear view of the
+man's features. They were of deathlike paleness, and seemed to be
+convulsed by fear, but, I argued inly, this might have been caused
+by the fright occasioned by the sudden glare of light falling upon
+him--resembling in some respects a flash of lightning, and calculated
+to startle the strongest man. In his attitude of watchfulness--which I
+may call the first stage of my observation of him--he stood holding
+the street door partially open, thus providing for himself a swift
+retreat into the house in the event of a policeman entering the
+Square. The second stage was his fear-struck appearance, from whatever
+cause it proceeded. The third stage--occurring when the light was
+extinguished--was the shadowy movement of a man gliding out of the
+Square. Then his final disappearance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You say, Dr. Pye, that you had a clear view of the man's
+features. Did you recognise them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye: &quot;No, sir, the man was a stranger to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There appears to be some kind of connection between the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd and the disappearance of a clerk in his employ, Mr. Abel
+Death? Have you any knowledge of this clerk?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I never saw the man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were you acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very slightly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you saw the man again, could you identify him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you ever seen any other man in Catchpole Square leaving Mr.
+Boyd's house in the middle of the night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never. It was the unusualness of the incident that attracted my
+attention.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he uttered these words he raised his eyes and slowly looked around.
+When they reached the spot where Inspector Robson and his family were
+seated his gaze was arrested. The eyes of all the spectators,
+following his, were now fixed upon the group. A wave of magnetism
+passed through the Court, and, to a more or less degree, affected the
+nerves of every one present. Aunt Rob clutched her husband's sleeve,
+and Florence's eyes dilated with a nameless fear. The long pause was
+broken by Dr. Pye, who murmured, but in a voice loud enough to be
+heard by all,--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a very strange likeness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To whom do you refer?&quot; asked the Coroner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To that gentleman,&quot; replied Dr. Pye, pointing to Reginald. &quot;He bears
+a singular resemblance to the man I saw leaving Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald started to his feet with an indignant protest on his lips,
+and there was great confusion in Court, in the midst of which Dick
+gently pulled Reginald down to his seat. &quot;It is easily disproved,&quot; he
+said, in a low tone. &quot;You were home and in bed before midnight. Be
+calm, Florence, there is nothing to fear, nothing to fear.&quot; But his
+heart fell; he saw the net closing round those he loved.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to Dr. Pye): &quot;The gentleman you are pointing to is Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's son.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye: &quot;I did not know. I say he resembles the man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you sure?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who can be sure of anything? In hundreds of my experiments all my
+calculations have been overturned at the last moment. I have been sure
+of success, and the crucial test has given me the lie. It is the same
+in human affairs, and in this case I can do no more than record my
+impressions. In spite of the conditions under which I saw the man his
+likeness to this gentleman is very striking; but I would impress upon
+you that great wrongs have been committed by accidental likenesses,
+and there are cases on record in which men have been condemned to
+death, the proof of their innocence coming too late to save them.&quot;
+Florence shuddered and closed her eyes. To her fevered mind her
+beloved husband was on his trial, surrounded by pitiless judges. Dr.
+Pye continued: &quot;There is a notable instance of this in Charles
+Dickens's story, 'A Tale of Two Cities,' where, happily, a life is
+saved instead of being sacrificed. The incident, strangely enough,
+occurs also in a court of justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;That is fiction. This is fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye: &quot;True. If you have nothing more to ask I shall be glad to
+retire. The atmosphere of this Court is unpleasant to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner intimating that he had no further questions to put, Dr.
+Pye retired, and the inquiry was adjourned till the following day.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_38" href="#div1Ref_38">DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">In great agitation Reginald and his party left the Court and turned in
+the direction of home, followed at a short distance by a few persons,
+whose appetite, whetted by what had transpired, thirsted for more.
+Those whose fate seemed to hang upon the result of the inquiry
+exchanged but few words on the way. Dick was plunged in thought, and
+Florence clung more closely to Reginald. Inspector Robson and Aunt Rob
+exchanged disturbed glances; she was wildly indignant, but his
+official experience warned him that Reginald was in peril.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With respect to the evidence given by Dr. Pye the one chance for the
+young man lay in his being able to prove that he had returned to his
+lodgings before twelve o'clock on that fatal Friday night, and did not
+leave them again. This proof would not only clear him of the suspicion
+which naturally attached to him through Dr. Pye's evidence, but would
+clear him in other respects. But was the proof obtainable? Reginald's
+silence on the point rendered it doubtful. Could he have brought it
+forward he would have been eager to speak of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the little party reached the street in which Aunt Rob's house was
+situated Inspector Robson, turning, saw Mr. Lambert, the detective who
+had given evidence about the finding of the bullet. Telling his people
+to go into the house, and saying he would join them presently, he
+crossed over to the detective, and gave him good day, to which the
+inspector responded. Then they stood a moment or two without saying
+anything further.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On duty?&quot; asked Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Partly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Anything new stirring?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing new.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I won't beat about the bush,&quot; said Inspector Robson, &quot;you have been
+following us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The detective rubbed his chin thoughtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Come, come, Lambert,&quot; continued Inspector Robson, &quot;you and I have
+been friends this many a year, and friends I hope we'll remain. Be
+frank with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it fair to put it that way, Robson?&quot; said the detective. &quot;When
+duty calls does friendship count?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps not, perhaps not,&quot; replied Inspector Robson, hurriedly, &quot;but
+you see the close personal interest I have in this unfortunate affair.
+Are you shadowing my son-in-law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The detective rubbed his chin again. It was a habit with him when
+there was anything unusually grave in his mind, and Inspector Robson
+understood the meaning it conveyed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, I ask you, Lambert,&quot; he said, &quot;could any man in the world have
+given his evidence more fairly?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No man,&quot; answered the detective; &quot;but there's the outside of a man,
+and the inside of a man. We've had some experience of that, I think.
+If it's intimated to me to take up a case, I take it up. I won't go
+farther than that, so don't press me. It isn't often that a case so
+full of mystery crops up, and there'll be a lot of credit for the man
+who manages to get to the heart of it. It's something more than bread
+and butter: it's cake, and I don't want another man to get that cake.
+Now, mind you, I don't offer an opinion, but so far as this case has
+gone there are two or three parties to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My son-in-law for one?&quot; asked Inspector Robson, anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, your son-in-law for one. I don't say that he's not as innocent
+as the babe unborn, but you've got to convince people. Just you ask a
+hundred men and women, and half of 'em 'll wag their heads at mention
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd's name. The other half 'll wag their heads at
+mention of Mr. Abel Death's name. I'd give a lot to lay hands on that
+chap. He's the second party in the case. That's a queer story Lady
+Wharton told, and of course a true story, only it wasn't the real
+Samuel Boyd she saw. Somebody made up for him. If it wasn't Abel
+Death, it was the third party in the case. What a nerve!&quot; said the
+detective, admiringly. &quot;I couldn't have done it better myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That ought to remove the suspicions against my son-in-law,&quot; said
+Inspector Robson. &quot;There are three or four witnesses who can prove he
+never left his bed for a week.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's all right, but lawyers will say collusion, conspiracy. We're
+speaking confidentially, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and I'm obliged to you, Lambert.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No need to be. We've been long in the service, you and me--boys
+together, weren't we?--and we can take credit for keeping one thing
+steady before us. Duty. The case, you see, doesn't hang only on what
+took place in Bournemouth last Thursday night; it hangs quite as much
+upon what took place in Catchpole Square the Friday before. A man is
+accountable for his actions, and if there's a mystery that's got to be
+cleared up, as this has got to be, and Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned
+in it--which there's no denying--the law calls upon him to explain his
+actions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's many a man held responsible and accountable for what, in the
+absence of witnesses, he finds it out of his power to explain, and
+which, in the nature of the circumstances, he couldn't reasonably be
+expected to explain. But that doesn't prove him guilty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't say it does. The hardship to that man is that the law is the
+law, and, in the absence of an explanation that can be proved to be
+true, refuses to be satisfied. 'Guilty or not guilty?' says the law.
+'Not guilty,' says the man. Does the law accept it? No. It proceeds to
+open the case. Robson, you've my best wishes, and I hope you and yours
+will come well through it. Let us leave it there. We've had a
+comfortable chat; let us leave it there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well,&quot; said Inspector Robson, rather stiffly, &quot;we'll leave it
+there. If any charge is brought against my son-in-law he will be ready
+to meet it. I pledge you my word that he'll not run away. Perhaps, if
+any decided step is resolved upon you will give me timely notice, for
+old friendship's sake, in return for my promise that you will meet
+with no obstruction in the performance of your duty. It will help me
+to soften the shock to my dear daughter--our only child, Lambert, the
+sweetest girl!&quot;----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He turned his head, to hide his emotion. Lambert pressed his hand, and
+said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall be the first to hear of it, Robson. Cheer up. Things mayn't
+be so bad as some people suspect.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson nodded and left him, and rejoined his family in the
+house. Aunt Rob had seen him talking to the detective from the window,
+and had been so successful in instilling courage into Florence and
+Reginald that cheerful faces greeted his entrance; the cloud left his
+own at this unexpectedly bright reception.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We've been talking about things, father,&quot; said Aunt Rob in a brisk
+voice, &quot;and have made up our minds not to mope and mourn because a bit
+of trouble seems to be coming on us. If it passes all the better, but
+if we've got to fight it we'll fight it bravely.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bravo, mother,&quot; said Uncle Rob, &quot;that's the right spirit to show.
+Here's my hand, Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And here's mine,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;with my heart in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you both,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;I can bear anything rather than that
+you should doubt me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No fear of that, my dear. You've behaved like a man, from first to
+last. Never speak ill of the dead, they say, and I'm not going to. He
+was your father, and if his ways were not our ways, we're the better
+for it, and while he lived he was the worse for it. You were right in
+refusing to take up his business, right in trying to carve out an
+honourable career for yourself, right in going to see him that Friday,
+and trying to get the money you were entitled to. Not that you <i>would</i><br>
+have got it--but, there, I won't say anything against one that's gone
+to where I hope he'll be forgiven. You were right in everything,
+Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God bless you, mother,&quot; said Florence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Right even in falling in love with our dear Florence?&quot; said Reginald,
+tenderly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who could help it, bless her sweet face! Give me a kiss, my son, and
+you, too, Florence, and you, too, Dick, and you, too, father. And mind
+you, lad, I'm as glad as glad can be that you gave your evidence as
+you did to-day, and made a clean breast of it. You spoke the truth,
+the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, with love and innocence in
+your heart. Now, father, what did the detective have to say to you?
+Don't be afraid to tell us. Is he keeping an eye upon Reginald?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is, mother; and I said if any charge is brought against him he'll
+be ready to meet it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of course he will, and we'll stand by him, shoulder to shoulder.
+Father, you've been thirty years in the service, and you ought by this
+time to be pretty well used to the ways of witnesses. What is your
+opinion of Dr. Pye as a witness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He gave his evidence in a straightforward manner,&quot; replied Uncle Rob,
+guardedly. &quot;What one has to consider in reckoning up a witness is the
+effect he produces upon judge and jury, whether they put faith in what
+he says, or throw doubt upon it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which way would it be with Dr. Pye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They'd believe every word he spoke.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you think, Dick?&quot; asked Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't trust him,&quot; Dick replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give your reason.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't. Haven't any?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prejudice, then, Dick,&quot; said Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps. Call it that. Aunt, have you never seen a man you disliked,
+without being able to account for it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's happened more than once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you've found him out afterwards to be a bad lot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That has happened, too.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A kind of instinct, you see,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What gets over me,&quot; said Aunt Rob, shaking her head, as though she
+had not made up her mind, &quot;is the way he stood up for Reginald. All he
+seemed to want was fair play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, seemed to want,&quot; said Dick, doggedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At all events it was honest in him not to be too positive about the
+resemblance to the man he saw. Do you know anyone, Dick, that answers
+to the description and that might be mistaken for Reginald?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one, aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not Abel Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not a bit like Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In the name of all that's mysterious, what is he keeping out of the
+way for? Did you ever know a case in such a tangle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never. I don't wonder that Lambert is keen upon it. It would make his
+fortune to unravel the tangle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I mean to unravel it,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Oh, you may shake your head, aunt.
+I've certain ideas I'm not going to speak of just now; you would think
+me mad if I were to tell you what they were. If you keep your mind
+upon a thing it's wonderful how ideas crowd upon you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Leading too often to confusion,&quot; observed Uncle Rob. &quot;The main thing
+is a starting point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've a dozen,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the mischief of it. You put a bloodhound on the track. What's
+the consequence unless he gets a scent? He flounders; he might as well
+be a mongrel for all the use he is. Coming back to the evidence that
+was given in Court to-day, might not the man who presented himself to
+Lady Wharton as your father, Reginald, be the same man Dr. Pye saw,
+who made himself up to resemble you in case any one caught sight of
+him. Such things have been done, you know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look out!&quot; cried Dick, starting forward, and catching Reginald, who
+was swaying forward.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We'll talk no more of this miserable business to-day,&quot; said Aunt Rob,
+in a tone of stern decision. &quot;Take him up to bed, Florence, and keep
+him quiet. If we're not careful he'll be having a relapse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald, indeed, had overtaxed his strength, and the caution did not
+come too soon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must be off,&quot; said Dick, when Florence and Reginald were gone. &quot;If
+I'm not back before nine o'clock you need not expect to see me again
+to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In point of fact he had made up his mind to sleep in Catchpole Square,
+and to keep secret vigil there. But first he must go to Reginald's old
+lodgings in Park Street to speak to the landlady. So much depended
+upon proof being forthcoming that Reginald's account of his movements
+after leaving his father's house was true that Dick could not rest
+until he had questioned her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When Dick said to his uncle that he had ideas which would be
+considered mad if he revealed them, it was no mere figure of speech.
+So weird and grotesque was one of these ideas that, even in the midst
+of his gloomy forebodings, he could not resist a smile as he pondered
+upon it. &quot;It's a game that two can play at,&quot; he muttered, &quot;and my
+short experience on the stage ought to carry me successfully through.
+It may be time wasted, but it's worth the trying. We'll see whether
+that flashlight invention of Dr. Pye will come upon the scene again.
+If it does he'll see something that will astonish his weak nerves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He brightened up when he presented himself to the landlady, who not
+only welcomed him because he was a favourite with every one, but
+because he might be able to impart something new relating to a mystery
+with which, through the fact of the son of Samuel Boyd being her
+lodger, she was indirectly connected. Mrs. Weevil was one of those
+women to whom a gossip is one of the most enjoyable things in life,
+and she gave Dick good day with glad anticipation in her voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And 'ow's the poor young gentleman, sir,&quot; she said, &quot;after 'is day at
+the inkwich? I've been readin' about it in the papers, but wot I say
+is, if it wos the last word I spoke, it ain't no more like 'im than
+chalk is to cheese.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is not like him?&quot; inquired Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Is pictcher, sir, and yours, too, sir,' I ses to Mrs. Porter, the 'am
+and beef shop across the road, 'It's a shame,' I ses, 'that sech
+things is allowed. If a portrait it is, a portrait it ought to be.
+Actions 'ave been brought for less.' 'Wot you say, Mrs. Weevil, I
+say,' ses Mrs. Porter, 'but we're obliged to put up with it. Them
+newspaper men don't mind wot liberties they take.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick listened with patience to this and to much more to the same
+effect, and then approached the object of his visit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've come to ask you,&quot; he said, &quot;whether you recollect what occurred
+last Friday night week.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; she said, abstractedly, running her eye along the hem of her
+apron, &quot;there's them as 'as cause to remember; there's them as won't
+forget to their last hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Meaning?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Abel Death, sir, and Mr. Samuel Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His last hour has gone by; he's past remembering.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A truer word you never spoke, sir, and it's wot we must all come to.
+But Mr. Abel Death ain't past remembering, and wot 'e's got on 'is
+conscience I shouldn't like to 'ave on mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is one of the things that has yet to be settled,&quot; said Dick,
+ambiguously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And settled I 'ope it will be, sir, and better sooner than later, for
+Mr. Reginald's sake. You see, sir, I speak of 'im as Mr. Reginald
+because that's the name he went by when he first come to me. 'A
+reference, is usual, sir,' I ses to 'im, 'if so be as you'll egscuse
+me for mentionin' of it.' 'Mrs. Weevil,' he ses, 'I can't give you a
+reference, but I can give you a month in advance.' Wot gentleman could
+say more? A month in advance 'e paid, from first to last, and never a
+word between us when I give 'im the book on Monday mornin'--puncchual,
+because 'e said 'e liked to be. When I 'eard 'e wos Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+son you might 'ave knocked me down with a feather. I ses to Mrs.
+Porter, while she wos spreadin' mustard on a sangwitch for a gent as
+eats six every afternoon of 'is life as the clock strikes three,
+'Well,' I ses to 'er, 'of all the strange things!' 'That's <i>my</i><br>
+opinion, Mrs. Weevil,' she ses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Last Friday week,&quot; said Dick, taking up the threads of the subject.
+&quot;I wish you to tell me at what hour of the night Mr. Reginald came
+home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you ain't the first as wishes me to tell you. There's been two
+detectives 'ere, and three newspaper men. 'Do you recollec',' they
+ses, 'wot time Friday night young Mr. Boyd come 'ome?' Your own words,
+sir, as if they wos turned out of a mould. 'No, I don't,' I ses to
+them. 'I went to bed at ten, when Mr. Reginald was out. I knocked at
+his door,' I ses, 'to see if 'e wanted anythink, but he didn't answer,
+and I jest peeped in to make sure 'e was out. Which he wos.' 'Oh,' ses
+they, 'did 'e keep 'is door unlocked?' 'Yes, 'e did,' I ses, 'and
+everything else as well. 'E wos always as open as open can be. I wish
+all wos like 'im, but that can't be egspected, because it takes all
+sorts to make a world.' They wanted to go up to 'is rooms, but I ses,
+'No, you don't. I know my duties as a landlady,' I ses, 'and I won't
+'ave no pokin' and pryin' in a gentleman's private apartments.' Would
+you believe it, sir, they orfered me money to let 'em go in, but they
+couldn't wheedle me. I ain't one of that sort.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Try and remember,&quot; urged Dick, earnestly, &quot;whether, after you were in
+bed you didn't hear him come in on Friday night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I tried ever so 'ard, sir, I couldn't recollec' wot I don't
+remember. Why should a gentleman be spied upon when 'e pays 'is rent
+reg'lar? Mr. Reginald 'ad 'is own street door key, and wos free to
+come and go. 'E might 'ave come 'ome any time in the night without me
+knowin' it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a very important matter,&quot; said Dick, greatly disheartened.
+&quot;Perhaps your servant may recollect something.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll ring for 'er, sir, and you can arsk 'er yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In answer to the bell the servant came up, a heavy lumbering girl of
+twenty, in a chronic state of sulks, with whom Dick fared no better
+than he had with her mistress. She did not know what time she went to
+bed, nor what time she got up. Sometimes she awoke in the middle of
+the night, and sometimes she didn't; she generally didn't, and if she
+did she did not know what time it was. She did not recollect when
+Friday night was, she could not think so far back as the week before
+last. All she knew was that it wasn't her night out, and if the
+gentleman kept talking to her all day long how could she get her work
+done? So Dick reluctantly let her go, and took his departure himself,
+no wiser than when he came. 'Reginald's statement that he had returned
+to his lodgings before midnight was of no value in the absence of
+corroborative evidence. Thicker and blacker grew the clouds around
+him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From Park Street he proceeded to Draper's Mews, and there he met with
+another disappointment. Mrs. Death opened the door for him, and he saw
+a change in her. She was embarrassed, suspicious, sorrowful, angry.
+The old cordiality was gone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is Gracie at home?&quot; he asked, looking around without seeing the
+sallow, wistful face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, she isn't,&quot; answered Mrs. Death, in a constrained voice, &quot;and I
+don't know where she is. I haven't had misfortune enough, I suppose,
+that my own child should go against me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She dashed away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, and Dick
+gazed at her in pity and surprise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go against you, Mrs. Death!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;No, no. It isn't in
+Gracie's nature.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It wasn't,&quot; she retorted, &quot;till you stepped between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are labouring under some grievous error,&quot; he said, sadly. &quot;I have
+not seen Gracie. I came to ask how she was--as a friend, Mrs. Death,
+as a true friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes,&quot; she cried, bitterly, &quot;as a true friend! I'm learning the
+meaning of that word. It's time, it's time. Hush children!&quot; For one or
+two, alarmed at their mother's loud voice, began to cry. They were all
+huddled together on the floor, and had looked up eagerly when Dick
+entered. &quot;If you're not quiet I'll give you a beating all round.&quot; She
+turned to Dick. &quot;Come into the next room; it isn't right that they
+should hear us. There, children, there, be good.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With compressed lips, and eyes that seemed to be inwardly searching
+for an explanation, Dick accompanied her to the adjoining room. Night
+was coming on, but there was still light enough for them to see each
+other's face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be fair to me, Mrs. Death,&quot; he said, in a gentle tone. &quot;Whatever you
+may think of me now, think of me for a moment as I was, and tell me
+first about Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There isn't much to tell,&quot; she returned; and she, also, seemed to be
+searching inwardly for something she could not understand. &quot;She does
+nothing but talk of you. Dr. Vinsen walked home with us from the
+funeral yesterday, and Gracie wouldn't keep by our side; she walked
+behind. Two or three times he beckoned to her, but she was rebellious.
+'What have you been thinking of, child?' he asked when we got home.
+'I've been thinking of Dick,' she answered. 'Always of Dick, Gracie?'
+he said. 'Yes,' she answered, 'always of Dick.' 'Never of me?' he
+asked, and no one in the world could have spoken more kindly. 'Oh,
+yes,' she said, 'I think of you a lot, but in another way.' 'Now, tell
+me, child,' he said, 'what you think of me?' 'You'd best not ask,' she
+answered, and ran away. When we were alone I asked her what she meant
+by behaving so to our best friend. I will not tell you what her reply
+was; I was shocked and grieved that a child of mine could be so
+ungrateful. She looked out for you yesterday afternoon and evening,
+and this afternoon, too. 'Why doesn't Dick come?' she kept on saying.
+'Where's Dick?' It's three hours now that she went away, and I don't
+know what's become of her. That's all I've got to tell you about
+Gracie, if you didn't know it before. I want my child, I want my
+child! Do you hear, Mr. Remington. I want my child! I have lost my
+husband--am I to lose my Gracie, too?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I sincerely hope not,&quot; said Dick; &quot;I honestly believe not. She will
+come back presently. But there is something else in your mind against
+me, Mrs. Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She stepped close to him, and looked fiercely into his eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who killed Mr. Samuel Boyd?&quot; she said, in a hissing whisper. &quot;Tell me
+that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish to God I could!&quot; he replied.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wish to God <i>I</i> could!&quot; she retorted, still speaking in a low,
+fierce whisper, so that the children in the next room should not hear.
+&quot;But though we don't know, we have our suspicions. I know what mine
+are. What are yours? Tell me, if you dare!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He did not answer her. In the presence of misfortune so undeserved, of
+suffering so keen, how could he breathe a word against her husband?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you do not dare,&quot; she continued. &quot;You haven't the courage to say
+to my face that you believe my poor husband to be guilty of the crime;
+but you can say so behind my back, you can go about poisoning people's
+minds against him, and then come to me smiling in pretended
+friendship. Oh, Mr. Remington,&quot; she said, with a remorseful sob, and
+her changeful moods showed how her heart was torn, &quot;I would not have
+believed it of you. You make us trust you, you make us love you, and
+then you turn against us. See here!&quot; She pulled up the sleeve of her
+gown, and bared her emaciated arm to his pitying gaze. &quot;As this is, so
+my whole body is, and my soul is on the rack. You have seen us in our
+poverty, you know the state to which we have been driven, you have
+witnessed how we live. Is it the work of an honest man to oppress and
+malign us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would be the work of a coward,&quot; he answered, &quot;if I had done a
+hundredth part of what you bring against me. I have done you no wrong,
+no injustice. I think I know who has instilled these thoughts into
+your mind, but I will not ask you for his name. Doubtless he has laid
+the seal of silence on your lips----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has not,&quot; she interrupted. &quot;What he has said to me he would say to
+you if you stood before him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think not,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He would. He has been kind and generous to us; if it had not been for
+him my children would have starved.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I would have done as much if I could have afforded it,&quot; said Dick,
+with set teeth. &quot;Has it not crossed your mind, Mrs. Death, that you
+are being deceived?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How, deceived?&quot; she asked, and despite the warmth of her championship
+there was doubt in her face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In being led to believe that those who are your friends are your
+enemies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I speak as I find.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Dick, firmly, &quot;you speak from ideas which have been put
+into your head, heaven knows for what purpose. What that man's motive
+may be----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, yes, yes,&quot; she interrupted again. &quot;Motive, motive, motive. I've
+heard enough of motive. What is yours, Mr. Remington? Who is more
+deeply interested in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who is more
+directly connected with it, who has more to gain from it, than you and
+your friend. You speak of motive. What motive brings you here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have told you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have not told me,&quot; she said, violently. &quot;You come to seek
+information about my poor husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he admitted, &quot;partly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And,&quot; she said, very slowly, &quot;to cast suspicion upon him, if the poor
+dear is alive, and so avert it from yourself and Mr. Reginald Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick was too startled to reply. No need to ask the source of this
+insidious suggestion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it happened that you found him here,&quot; she continued, &quot;would you
+give information to the police? Would you say, 'Go into that house and
+arrest the murderer of Mr. Samuel Boyd?' Oh, I know, I know! But we do
+not fear the truth, and we have a friend who will see that justice is
+done. That is all we want, and I pray that I may live to see the day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She had worked herself into a white heat of passion, and Dick saw that
+no good would result from prolonging his visit. &quot;May there come a
+happier day for all of us,&quot; he said, and passed from her presence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Night was coming on as he took his way to Catchpole Square, but he did
+not heed the falling shadows nor the soft drizzling rain that now
+began to fall. &quot;This is Dr. Vinsen's work,&quot; he thought, &quot;and he does
+not work without a purpose. What motive can he have in fixing
+suspicion upon me and Reginald, what motive in taking so deep an
+interest in Mrs. Death? The mystery seems impenetrable, but I will
+pierce it till light comes. I will, I will, I will!&quot; He did not hear
+pattering feet behind him, and was not conscious that anyone was by
+his side till his hand was clutched.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Gracie!&quot; he cried. &quot;I am glad you are here. Your mother is terribly
+anxious about you. Let me take you to her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; she said, panting, &quot;not yet, Dick. I've been looking for you
+everywhere. I've got something to tell you first. Come, come, come!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She dragged him in the direction he had been taking, towards Catchpole
+Square.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_39" href="#div1Ref_39">GRACIE MAKES A DISCOVERY.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">He did not resist. The enterprise to which he was pledged had so
+fastened itself upon his imagination that the least thing appertaining
+to it claimed first place. Except that her breath was short there
+were no symptoms of excitement in Gracie, but Dick was sufficiently
+conversant with her peculiar manner to know that she had something of
+importance to communicate.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Tell me as we go along,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; she answered, &quot;you must see for yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't walk so fast, then. We must not attract attention.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were only two or three loungers in Catchpole Square. Now that
+Samuel Boyd was buried the general interest in the house had waned,
+and public attention was chiefly devoted to the proceedings in the
+Coroner's Court, in consequence of which there had been intervals
+during this day when the Square was bare of sight-seers. The two or
+three idle persons who were staring aimlessly at the walls as Dick and
+Gracie came near regarded the appearance of the new-comers as an
+agreeable diversion, and gazed at them instead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Gracie, what is it?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She cast a sharp glance at a little iron gate at the side of the next
+house to Samuel Boyd's, and replied, &quot;Not while they're here, Dick.
+Stare them out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Nothing loth, Dick stared so sternly at the idlers that they became
+nervous, shifted their gaze, to see him still staring at them when
+they looked at him again, made awkward movements, and finally strolled
+away, and left the Square to him and Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let's talk inside the house,&quot; she said, with a nod of approval.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Gracie, here. I don't care about taking you in.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've been in,&quot; she said calmly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've been in!&quot; he exclaimed, hastening to the door. &quot;Is anybody
+inside now? Ah!&quot; with a sudden thought. &quot;Your father!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I didn't see a living soul when I was in the place,&quot; she said,
+mournfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who opened the door for you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nobody. I won't talk in the Square, Dick; people'll be coming and
+interrupting us. I'll show you all about it when we're inside. You'll
+be glad to know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Recognising the imprudence of running the chance of being overheard,
+he unlocked the door, and they stood in the dark passage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be frightened, Gracie. What has happened within these walls is
+eerie enough to send the shivers through one.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I ain't frightened a bit, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well, then. Remain here while I go and get a light. The candles
+and matches are upstairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll come with you. You do like me a little, don't you, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I like you a good deal. You're the queerest and bravest little girl
+I've ever met.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She nestled close to him. They reached the office, and he fumbled
+about for the matches.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where are we, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He hesitated a moment, and answered gently, &quot;In the office where your
+father used to work.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Father?&quot; she sighed. &quot;Dick, what do you see when you are in the
+dark?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Darkness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see more than that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you see anything now?&quot; he asked, still groping for the matches.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see father. There he stands. He looks so white and thin, and he's
+holding out his arms to me to save him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From what? Ah, here they are at last.&quot; He struck a match, and lighted
+a candle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know from what, but I'm going to. Now he's gone. No, no! He's
+there, he's there! Father, father!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She darted forward to the hooded chair in which the wax figure of the
+Chinaman was seated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hold hard, Gracie,&quot; said Dick, catching her by the arm. &quot;That's not a
+man; it's a wax figure.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me go, let me go!&quot; It was not a scream, but a fierce whisper that
+issued from her lips. She twisted herself out of Dick's grasp, and ran
+to the chair. She stood awhile before she spoke again, and Dick
+watched her curiously. &quot;Is he dead?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wax images generally are,&quot; said Dick, endeavouring to speak lightly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gazed earnestly at the dead white face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he been here long?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A pretty long time, I should say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Was he here when Mr. Boyd was murdered?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If he could only speak, Dick!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, if he only could!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She crept to the bedroom door. &quot;Is this the room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. I wouldn't go in, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not? He's dead and buried; and if his ghost is there it can't do
+me any harm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Her black eyes travelled over the walls and ceiling and floor, as
+though in search of a clue to her father's fate. She evinced a
+disposition to linger there, but Dick pulled her back into the office.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Gracie, how did you get into the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll show you. Come downstairs.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Taking the candle with them they descended to the lower part of the
+premises. There were three small rooms in the basement, in addition to
+the kitchen, all in a state of ruin. He was filled with wonder when
+Gracie informed him that there was a cellar underneath the kitchen,
+for neither he nor the officials who had searched the place knew
+anything of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pull up the trap door, Dick. There it is, under that old chair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The wonder still upon him he removed the chair, and, kneeling, lifted
+the trap door, beneath which was a short fixed ladder.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll go first,&quot; said Gracie, &quot;then you can give me the candle, and
+come after me.&quot; It was done as she directed, and he found himself in a
+dungeon-like room, about ten feet square, without window or door in
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I got in through that wall, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was the wall that divided the two houses. Dick looked and saw no
+means of entrance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't you see how, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. You are a spirit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can a spirit do things that we can't?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is what people believe,&quot; replied Dick, doubtfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And see things that we can't?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So they say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I was a spirit I'd soon find out where poor father is. I ain't a
+spirit, Dick. Look here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Stepping to a part of the wall which bore traces of crumbling away,
+Gracie pushed a brick into the cellar of the adjoining house; she
+pushed another, and that fell; another, and that fell. A rat scampered
+past, and gave Dick a shock. Gracie laughed. Then she wedged her small
+body through, and stood apart from him, he being in one house, and she
+in another.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wait a bit, Gracie,&quot; he cried excitedly. &quot;Hold the candle.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were other loose bricks which yielded to his pressure, and in a
+few moments he had made a hole large enough for a man to creep
+through. Dick and Gracie were now side by side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Easy, ain't it, Dick? We'd best put up the bricks, in case of
+accidents.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You ought to have been a detective,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shouldn't have made a bad one, I don't think,&quot; she answered, with
+unemotional complacency, proceeding to replace the bricks, which she
+did very carefully, even fixing the loose mortar about them. The work
+was done so neatly that nothing but the closest scrutiny would have
+led to the discovery of the unlawful communication between the houses.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick,&quot; said Gracie, &quot;Mr. Samuel Boyd was as artful as they make 'em.
+Do you think he went in and out through this hole?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He'd have been in a rare mess if he did,&quot; replied Dick, brushing the
+dust from his clothes. &quot;The puzzle is what he wanted in an empty
+house. Supposing he did not wish to go back, how did he get out of
+it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He followed her out of the cellar up a short, narrow flight of rickety
+stairs. At the end of the passage was a door, the lock of which was
+broken. This door opened upon half a dozen stone steps, and at one
+time had probably been used as a kitchen entrance for tradesmen. A
+little rusty gate at the top opened into the Square. Only two of the
+houses had an entrance of a similar description, and Dick inwardly
+railed at his own lack of foresight in overlooking this means of
+getting into Samuel Boyd's residence. Upon further reflection,
+however, he thought it hardly likely that he would have succeeded in
+carrying his investigations to the point which Gracie's shrewdness and
+pertinacity had enabled her to reach.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's a good job for me the place is empty,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;I had to
+get into Mr. Boyd's house somehow, you know, even if I had to climb
+the wall at the back, the way the murderer and the newspaper man did.
+As I was looking at the houses I saw these steps, and when nobody was
+in the Square I crept down. It was all a job to push the door open,
+but I did, and there I was, without anybody seeing me. Then I tried to
+get into the backyard, but couldn't. I knew there was only a wall
+between me and the next house, and I thought of the way prisoners make
+their escape from prison. They made holes in walls--why couldn't I? I
+found a bit of old iron in the cellar here, and I poked at the bricks
+with it till I came across one that was looser than the others. It
+didn't take me long to push it through, and when I got that out the
+rest was easy. That's the way of it, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were in the dark all the time.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That didn't matter. I've got cat's eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're a clever girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, Dick. When you say anything like that to me I feel warm
+all over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What made you so anxious to get into Mr. Boyd's house? Surely you did
+not expect to find your father there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know what I didn't expect. I thought I might find a bit of
+paper with his writing on it that'd tell me where to look for him. I
+told you about my dream the night before last, and how I promised
+father I'd catch the murderer. I dreamt of him again last night.
+'Don't forget your promise,' he said. 'Look for me in Catchpole
+Square.' 'You ain't dead, are you, father?' I asked. 'No,' he said,
+'look for me in Catchpole Square, and catch the murderer.' It's a
+large order, ain't it, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was nothing humorous in the question; her voice was perfectly
+passionless, but Dick had a clear sense of the absorbing earnestness
+and the pitiful pathos which lay beneath, unexpressed though they were
+in tone or gesture.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Poor little Gracie!&quot; he said. &quot;The body of a mouse and the heart of a
+lion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>am</i> small, ain't I? But I shall grow. Did I do right, Dick, in
+coming to tell you about the hole? Don't say you're mad with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I won't. You did quite right, and I only wish you were a man. You and
+I together would get at the bottom of a mystery that is making many
+innocent people unhappy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We'll do it as it is, Dick. It's made mother unhappy--oh, so unhappy!
+The worst of it is&quot;--she paused, and with a grave look added, &quot;Dr.
+Vinsen. What does he mean by speaking against you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Passes my comprehension, Gracie. There's no love lost between us,
+that's clear. It is a case of mutual antipathy. But I don't want to do
+him an injustice. He has been very kind to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; she said. &quot;I wonder why.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, I wonder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I tried to get in at the inquest to-day, but couldn't get near the
+door. Was he there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not see him. His friend was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His friend?&quot; she queried.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Pye, and he made it hot for us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What did he say, Dick, what did he say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Too long to tell you now; you'll hear all about it by and by.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give me a ha'penny to buy a paper, Dick, will you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here's a penny. So, Dr. Vinsen speaks against me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and smiles and pats me when I stick up for you. He ain't angry,
+you know; he speaks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 'You'll
+know better, my child,' he says, 'before you are much older, and then
+you'll stick up for me.' He'll have to wait a long time for that.
+Mother's wild with me because I don't like him, but I can't, I can't!
+I feel sometimes as if I could stick a knife in him. I'm sure he'd do
+you a mischief if he could, so just you take care of him, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will; and I dare say I shall be a match for him in the end. We've
+talked enough about him, Gracie, my girl. Now we'll get back to the
+house, and I'll take you to your mother, who is fretting her heart out
+about you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'd sooner go by myself, Dick, and I'll tell her you found me and
+sent me home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That will do as well. I know you will not break a promise you give
+me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never, Dick, never! I'd die first!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They returned to the house the way they came, and she lifted her face
+to his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Kiss me, Dick,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kissed gladness into her, and they parted at Samuel Boyd's street
+door.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_40" href="#div1Ref_40">THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">At ten o'clock on this night, Dr. Pye was employed looking over a
+number of manuscripts, setting some aside and burning others, keeping
+a jealous eye upon the fire as he watched them moulder to ashes. Upon
+the table were a bottle of wine and two glass goblets of ancient
+manufacture and design. There were quaint stems to these goblets, one
+representing a serpent, the other a satyr, whose upraised face seemed
+to be trying to reach the rim. Priceless treasures of the antique.
+That the wine was precious, and that Dr. Pye so considered it, was
+evidenced by the disposition of the bottle, which lay in a basket
+lined with thick blue felt; the glasses were Venetian. These and the
+wine were in harmony with the taste displayed in the gathering
+together the costly and unique collection of articles which adorned
+the room. One might have expected to see such an apartment in an old
+palace, for the beautifying of which centuries of treasure had been
+collected through many generations, but scarcely in a street in
+Islington where wealth was not abundant, and where the residents, for
+the most part, were toilers of the humblest kind. Secluded as was the
+room--its door closed, its one window so closely shuttered that not a
+chink of light could be discerned from without--the hum of crowded
+life from the outer street penetrated it and droned like an exhausted
+bee. Dr. Pye listened, smiled contemptuously, and gazed around upon
+the precious bronzes and ivories, the rare <i>bric-à-brac</i>, the
+exquisite enamels, the books with jewelled bindings, which were so
+arranged that their beauties were seen at a glance. Not one of these
+examples was of the new school of art; all belonged to times when form
+and colour were either better understood and valued than now, or
+received from the artist that whole-souled and loving labour which
+in this age of hurry-scurry no artist dreams of bestowing upon his
+work--and thus misses perfection and immortality. In the world of art
+to-day it is the merchant-author who displays his wares and touts for
+patronage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His task completed, Dr. Pye put into a drawer the papers he had set
+aside, and with extreme care poured out a glass of wine and held it up
+to the light. His anticipated enjoyment of the precious draught was
+heightened by the deep ruby colour which shone through the delicate
+glass, and he gazed long at it, and at its almost living reflection in
+a jewel on his white hand. He drank it slowly, and drank a second and
+a third in the same leisurely manner. Then he rose and went to the
+window, in the closed shutter of which was a small revolving panel. On
+a bracket within reach of his right hand was the box containing the
+flashlight, of which he had spoken in his evidence at the Coroner's
+Court, and within reach of his left was a tap which controlled the
+gas. This tap he turned, and the room was in darkness. Then he turned
+the revolving panel, and through the exposed circle of glass looked
+out upon the night. All was dark in Catchpole Square. Its silence, its
+gloom, the utter absence of movement, were in keeping with the tragedy
+which had made its name a household word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lifting the box from the bracket he opened it, and, pressing a spring
+which ignited the magnesium wire, threw a flashlight on the house of
+Samuel Boyd. For one brief moment the walls and windows were
+illuminated, as though lightning had struck them. Then all was
+darkness again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With thoughtful brows Dr. Pye closed the revolving panel and turned up
+the gas. Placing the box on the table, he took from it a film which he
+laid flat on a square of sensitised paper, and poured a liquid over
+it. Holding it up to the light a photograph of the walls and windows
+of the house he had illuminated appeared. No living face or form was
+visible in the picture, nothing but lifeless stone and wood and glass.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As he was replacing the box on the bracket, the sound of footsteps on
+the stairs caused him to look towards the door, which presently opened
+and admitted Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;According to my promise, my friend,&quot; said the visitor; &quot;always
+faithful, always a man of my word.&quot; His eyes fell upon the bottle of
+wine, and without invitation he filled a glass, and was about to drink
+when he paused, as if a sudden suspicion had crossed his mind. Dr. Pye
+smiled, and refilling his own glass, drank, his example being followed
+by Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A rare wine,&quot; he said, smacking his lips, &quot;but too
+seductive----altogether too seductive. Am I mistaken in supposing that
+you have been testing the flashlight?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are not mistaken,&quot; said Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Without result, of course?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Without result.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen stepped to the shuttered window, and Dr. Pye, lowering the
+gas almost to the vanishing point, turned the revolving panel, and
+peered through the exposed glass at the windows of the house opposite.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look!&quot; he whispered, clutching his visitor's arm. &quot;What do you see?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing but a mass of shadows,&quot; replied Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look again--closer, closer!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see nothing,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, testily. &quot;What do you see?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye did not answer, but bringing forward the small box, opened it,
+and sent a flashlight straight into the opposite window.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God in heaven!&quot; he cried, falling back affrighted.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In that brief moment of light he had seen at the window the face and
+form of Samuel Boyd!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_41" href="#div1Ref_41">HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen vainly seeking in the darkness for the cause of Dr. Pye's
+alarm, could not utter a word. In his listening attitude, with the
+white fear depicted on his countenance, he presented a terror-struck
+appearance, and seemed to be waiting for advancing footsteps, or for
+the sound of voices in the street without, demanding admittance. But
+the silence was not broken.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't you speak?&quot; he then said in a whisper to his companion. &quot;What
+is it? Is there anybody in the Square? Turn up the light.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His hand was groping for the tap that controlled the gas when Dr. Pye
+seized his arm and held him back. Dr. Vinsen winced and impatiently
+endeavoured to free himself, but the fingers that had fastened
+themselves upon his muscles were more like rods of steel than flesh
+and bone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let go!&quot; he muttered. &quot;You are crushing my arm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not stir,&quot; replied Dr. Pye, releasing him. Then he masked the
+shutter, and brought light into the room.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was characteristic of this man that, short as had been the interval
+between his startled exclamation and the lighting up of the apartment,
+he had regained his self-control, and that on his features no trace of
+his recent agitation was visible. There are moments of unexpected
+surprise when the fixed habits of a carefully trained life slip their
+hold, and the mind becomes as unquestioningly receptive as that of a
+child. Such a moment had come to Dr. Pye when he beheld the vision of
+the man the mystery of whose death was on every tongue. It held him
+only for the moment; before the passing of another his dominant will
+had reasserted itself, and his face resumed his impenetrable calm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, what is it?&quot; again demanded Dr. Vinsen. His eyes travelled round
+the room, and colour came into his cheeks when he saw they were alone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You did not see it?&quot; replied Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;See what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The figure of Samuel Boyd standing at his window?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen stared incredulously at his host, and then a long deep
+breath of relief escaped him. &quot;Only that!&quot; he exclaimed. &quot;I thought it
+was something worse.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye repeated his question. &quot;You did not see it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I saw nothing. The dead do not rise from their graves. Dead once,
+dead for ever. But you can convince me by producing ocular proof. Your
+ingenious device takes an instantaneous picture of any object upon
+which it flashes its light. Produce me the picture of the dead and
+buried Samuel Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot. The last film has been used, and I omitted to put in
+others.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very unfortunate,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, dryly. &quot;Suppose you supply the
+omission, and try again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye acted upon the suggestion. He placed an automatic arrangement
+of films in the little machine, again turned down the gas, again
+opened the circular lid in the shutter, again threw the flash light
+upon the house of Samuel Boyd. The blank walls and windows confronted
+them, and no sign of life, physical or spiritual, was visible; and
+when the film was removed and developed it showed no face of man or
+spirit.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not expect a result,&quot; said Dr. Pye; &quot;there was no form at the
+window.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw none on the first occasion.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As clearly as I behold you now I saw the shadow, spirit, or
+reflection of Samuel Boyd. I was not under the spell of a delusion; my
+senses did not deceive me. My pulse beats steadily; there is no fever
+in my blood. I saw it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And I refuse to believe it. My friend, you do nothing without design,
+and if I doubt your protestation I but follow the excellent example
+you set me. I have no faith in <i>diablerie</i>, nor am I a child to be
+influenced by a goblin tale. Who thinks me so, mistakes my
+character--mis-takes my cha-rac-ter; and that might lead to more
+serious mistakes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was no indication that Dr. Pye paid heed to these words, or that
+they produced any impression upon him; he seemed to be absorbed in a
+train of thought which he was endeavouring to follow to a logical end.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I recall a singular case,&quot; he said, musingly, &quot;of a man who was
+brutally murdered in his own apartments while he was engaged in making
+experiments in photography. It occurred in a foreign country, and the
+police, investigating the case, had their suspicions directed to a
+person who had had dealings with the murdered man, and who had been
+seen entering his apartments within an hour or two of the murder. They
+followed up the clue, and arrested the suspected man, who
+energetically proclaimed his innocence. The evidence at the trial was
+entirely circumstantial, but it was considered conclusive, and the man
+went to the scaffold, protesting his innocence with his dying breath.
+Some years afterwards business of a private nature brought me into
+contact with a man who had but a short time to live, and on his
+deathbed he confessed to me that he was the murderer. In proof of this
+he had, by a strange fatuity, carried about with him during all these
+years a certain piece of evidence which, had it been presented to a
+jury, would have been fatal to him. The circumstances were these: On
+the day of the murder he had entered the apartment of his victim at
+the moment that a prepared plate had been placed in the camera. A
+quarrel took place between them, which culminated in the murderer
+suddenly plunging a knife into the heart of the student photographer.
+Death was instantaneous, and as he fell to the ground his eyes were
+fixed upon the face of his murderer. There he lay upon the ground,
+dead, his eyes wide open. The murderer was himself a photographer, and
+a whimsical fancy seized him to take a picture of those staring eyes,
+in which a wild horror dwelt. He acted upon it. Focussing the dead
+face he exposed the plate, and, the picture taken, stole away from the
+house with the negative in his possession. He subsequently developed
+the picture and enlarged it, and there, under the lens of a powerful
+microscope, was the portrait of the murderer upon the pupils of the
+dead man's eyes. It had been his last living vision, which had fixed
+itself upon the retina. I have the picture by me now, and since that
+day have been much interested in the photographic art, in which I have
+made some curious experiments. Later researches have proved that we
+can photograph what is invisible to the eye, what is even concealed in
+a box. The photographs of shadows and the spirits of the dead can be
+taken. The image of Samuel Boyd being in my mind, found its reflection
+in a window in a moment of light. Why should we not be able to
+photograph a vision created by the imagination?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with a touch of sarcasm, &quot;the thoughts of men.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or,&quot; said Dr. Pye, with an assenting nod, &quot;the thoughts of men. It
+will be done; and when it is accomplished it will open the road to
+greater discoveries.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, shrugging his shoulders, &quot;great
+discoveries--<i>your</i> great discoveries, ending in visions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To you, visions; to me, reality. The age of miracles is not yet past.
+It is my intention to get out of this country, and return to Italy,
+where there is light, where the sun shines. This atmosphere, these
+leaden skies, these black nights, are fatal. I must release myself. My
+purpose is fixed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Both spoke in a tone of decision, and both had a motive-spring which
+had yet to be revealed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us come back to earth,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, &quot;and above all,
+let us be practical. There are accounts between us which must be
+settled--pray do not forget that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were at the inquest to-day,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, rather uneasily,
+for there was a menace in Dr. Pye's tone. &quot;The papers report you
+fully. Your warning to the jury not to be led away by a resemblance
+that might be accidental was a masterstroke. It produced a good
+effect, but will it assist Mr. Reginald Boyd? We shall see--we shall
+see. Justice is slow. Were you to formulate a code you would make it
+swifter, surer--eh, my friend?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I would make it swift as sudden death to all who stood in my path,&quot;
+said Dr. Pye, and now there was a cold glitter in his eyes as he
+looked at his visitor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No doubt, no doubt, and no feeling of mercy would restrain you; but
+we cannot break through the meshes. Sentinels stand at every corner,
+and slow as justice is in these mean streets, of which you have so
+poor an opinion, its eyes are never closed. It is fortunate for some
+that it can occasionally be hoodwinked by a master mind, to which&quot;
+(here he bent his head, half in mockery, half in sincerity) &quot;I pay
+tribute. That poor woman, Mrs. Abel Death, has had no news of her
+husband--singular, is it not? Her strange little child Gracie, I
+regret to say, views me with disfavour. It is some compensation that
+her mother regards us as her benefactors; and in some respects we
+deserve to be so regarded. The expenditure of money in that quarter
+has not been entirely thrown away--not en-tire-ly thrown a-way. It has
+assisted me to direct public opinion, and to keep watch upon my friend
+Remington, whom I would like to plunge to the bottom of the Red Sea,
+to rot with the bones of the Egyptians.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That a man so mild in voice and so bland in manner should break into
+sudden malignity was surprising.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is better where he is,&quot; said Dr. Pye; &quot;his living presence is
+necessary. People shoot wild when there is no target to aim at, and a
+chance shot might hit the mark.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Always profound,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, admiringly, &quot;always, always
+profound. A target--yes, a target. It is a thousand pities, my dear
+friend, that you are not in all things more practical and less
+imaginative. Take, for instance, these gewgaws by which you are
+surrounded, these flasks and vases, these jewelled trifles, this
+curiously wrought work from some Eastern country--of what avail are
+they for the true pleasures of life?&quot; Dr. Pye was silent. &quot;You may
+say, perhaps, they feed the artistic sense. As I believe only in what
+I see, so do I believe only in what I feel. Better to feed the
+material senses--far more rational. If what you have presented to my
+view in your character is genuine, and not the outcome of a deliberate
+intention to deceive--in-ten-tion to de-ceive--it is composed of
+singularly contradictory qualities. In a certain sense, unique, for
+who would expect to find Alnaschar dreams floating among the fleshpots
+of Egypt? Your taste in wine is not to be excelled--I approve of it;
+it is a passion you carry to an excess which I consider as ridiculous
+as it is unwise--still, in the main, I approve of it. Good wine
+nourishes the tissues, helps to prolong life. Hippocrates and many
+long-headed ancients have something to say on this head. But these
+lifeless memorials of a dead past, in which there is no vitality,
+which are eternally the same, dumb and expressionless----My dear
+friend, I fear you are not listening.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My thoughts are elsewhere,&quot; said Dr. Pye, rising and approaching the
+window. Dr. Vinsen followed him, with suspicion and discontent on his
+face. For the fourth time on this night the room was plunged in
+darkness; for the fourth time the circular lid of the shutter was
+drawn aside.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, there!&quot; whispered Dr. Pye. &quot;What do you see?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen peered into the night. &quot;I see nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stand back.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Swift as thought he threw the flash-light upon the windows of Samuel
+Boyd's house. Then he masked the shutter and turned on the gas.
+Accompanied by Dr. Vinsen, who jealously watched his every movement,
+he stepped to the table, withdrew the film from the little machine,
+and developed it. And there before them came gradually into view the
+pictured presentment of the face and form of Samuel Boyd, standing at
+the window of his house in Catchpole Square.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen's face was pallid, his eyes dilated, his teeth chattered.
+Dr. Pye's face was thoughtful, introspective.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you believe now?&quot; he asked in an undertone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen passed his hand confusedly across his brows.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We had certain plans,&quot; continued Dr. Pye; &quot;are they to be carried out
+to-night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not to-night; not to-night,&quot; replied Dr. Vinsen, turning towards the
+door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next moment Dr. Pye was alone.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_42" href="#div1Ref_42">A FAMILY COUNCIL.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">On the following morning Aunt and Uncle Rob and Florence and Reginald
+sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Dick, who had not been home
+all night. Although they had had no word from him since he left them
+on the previous evening, they knew that he would join them at the
+earliest possible moment. It had been an anxious night with them, and
+they had had but little sleep. There were dark rims round Aunt Rob's
+eyes, and signs of unrest were on Uncle Rob's countenance. Singularly
+enough, the invalid of the party, Reginald, had gathered strength; his
+voice was firmer, his step more confident, and there was an expression
+on his face which denoted that he had prepared himself to meet the
+worst that fortune had in store for him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Florence and I have been considering the straight and honest course
+to pursue,&quot; he said, &quot;and we have decided. She wished me at first to
+be guided by your advice; but she is beginning to find out that she
+has married a wilful man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She gave him a tender smile, and put her hand in his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not that I don't value your advice; but what would be the use
+of asking for it if I hadn't made up my mind to take it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No use, my dear,&quot; said Aunt Rob. &quot;What have you decided to do?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of my father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob nodded her approval, and would have expressed it had she not
+observed the grave look on her husband's face. So she held her tongue,
+and waited for him to speak.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not a plan we generally approve of,&quot; he remarked, after a
+pause, &quot;and it seldom meets with success.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has it ever?&quot; asked Reginald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. A fifty to one chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it were a thousand to one chance it would be wrong to throw it
+away. Much of the evidence that has been given can be so construed as
+to cast suspicion upon me. How shall I protect myself except by
+showing the world that I court the most searching inquiry? Lady
+Wharton's story is true, and some villain, personating my father,
+succeeded in imposing upon and robbing her. The offer of a substantial
+reward will not only quicken the efforts of the police, but will set a
+hundred people on the hunt. God forbid that I should do anyone an
+injustice. I cannot conceive that Abel Death is the murderer, and yet
+in the eyes of the public it lies between him and me. It would be the
+height of folly to ignore that fact. Here in this paper&quot;--he took up a
+newspaper, glanced at it, and flung it indignantly aside--&quot;is a veiled
+allusion to Abel Death and me as accomplices. No names are mentioned,
+but the inference can hardly be missed. On my way home from the
+funeral on Tuesday, and yesterday from the Coroner's Court, I saw some
+of the newspaper bills with their cruel headlines accusing <i>me!</i> I saw
+the silent accusation in the eyes of the people as I passed. Is it in
+nature that I should sit idly down under such imputations? They are
+enough to drive a man mad, and I shall go mad if I do not do something
+quickly to repel them. The wretch who went down to Bournemouth must
+have purchased a railway ticket; the clerk who sold it him may have
+seen his face; passengers travelling the same way must have seen him:
+he must have been seen by other persons in Bournemouth; he may have
+taken a carriage there to drive to the Gables; if he went on foot he
+may have asked his way to the house; when he left Lady Wharton he
+could scarcely have walked about the town till the trains started in
+the morning; he must have slept somewhere; a waiter or a chambermaid
+may have noticed him; there may have been something in his speech or
+manner to attract attention, however slight. There are a thousand
+things from which a clue may be obtained and which may be brought to
+the recollection by the hope of earning money. The offer of a reward
+will stir people's memories, will cause them to come forward with
+scraps of information which otherwise would be thought of no
+importance. Uncle Rob, Aunt Rob--I dare not, and will not, call you
+father and mother till I am cleared of these vile suspicions--do you
+not see that I <i>must</i> do this for dear Florence's sake, that it is my
+duty to make her less ashamed of the name I gave her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The sobs in his throat prevented him from continuing. Trembling in
+every limb, shaking with passion and excitement, he turned appealingly
+to his wife.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She clasped him in her loving arms, crying, &quot;I am not ashamed of it; I
+am proud of it, and of you, my dear, dear husband! If there is a stain
+upon our name you shall wipe it away; you shall make it bright and
+clean and pure, and men and women shall say, 'The son has atoned for
+his father's faults, and stands before the world an honourable
+gentleman who has met misfortune bravely, and silenced the slanderers
+who dared to breathe a word against him.' Oh, my dear, my dear! I
+never loved you as I love you now, I never honoured you as I honour
+you now. Mother, father, stand by us--comfort him, strengthen him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She glowed with heavenly pity, with indignant pride, with devoted
+love. The type of a true, brave, honest English girl, she stood
+embracing the man whose heart, whose life, were linked with hers,
+ready to defend him, to suffer for him, to fling back the words of
+scorn flung at him--if need were, to die for him. It is beneath the
+stress of a heavy stroke of misfortune that men and women such as she
+show their noblest qualities.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A great peace stole into Reginald's heart; the sobs in his throat died
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will try to prove myself worthy of you,&quot; he said huskily. &quot;I pray
+to God that I may live to prove it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob's heart throbbed with exultation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Our daughter, father, that I nursed at my breast,&quot; she murmured to
+her husband. &quot;God love and preserve her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Amen!&quot; he answered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So in that humble home those sweet flowers bloomed in the midst of the
+darkness, and through the lowering clouds one bright star shone--the
+star of love and hope and mutual faith.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When the excitement had subsided, and they were all seated again,
+Uncle Rob said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let it be as you have decided, Reginald, my lad. As an inspector of
+police I might argue with you; as a man and a father I agree with you.
+And in the nick of time, here comes Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To Dick, with his cheerful face and voice, that bore no traces of his
+night's anxious vigil, all was explained. He shook hands with
+Reginald, and said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A good move. I'll go a step farther. Let there be two bills put out
+and posted all over England, one offering a reward for the discovery
+of the murderer, the other for giving such information of Abel Death
+as will lead to his being found. You can tell us, perhaps, Uncle
+Rob--would that be against the law?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't think the law can touch it,&quot; he replied. &quot;It might not be
+approved of in some quarters, but the law don't apply, so far as I
+know anything of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If the law,&quot; said Aunt Rob, with fine disdain, &quot;can prevent a son
+from offering a reward for the discovery of his father's murderer the
+less we have of it the better. Why, instead of one man looking for the
+monster, there 'll be a hundred! Dick, you must see to the printing of
+the bills, and they should be got out at once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will attend to everything; but before we go into details I've
+something to tell you. I should have been here earlier if I hadn't met
+little Gracie Death. What a brick that mite is! Just listen to what
+she discovered yesterday, Reginald--that there's a way of getting into
+your father's house without getting through the front or the back
+door. You may well look startled; it nearly took <i>my</i> breath away. Do
+you remember that pitiful hoarse voice of hers, uncle, on the night of
+the fog, when she said, 'You <i>will</i> find father, won't you, sir?'&quot;
+Uncle Rob nodded. &quot;Well, as nobody has been able to find him, she has
+made up her mind to find him herself, heaven knows how, but somehow.
+She thinks of nothing else, she dreams of nothing else, and she's got
+it into that clever little head of hers that he's to be found in
+Catchpole Square, the very place, one would imagine, that he'd be
+likely to avoid. If faith can move mountains, as they say it can, the
+thing is as good as done. There is such magnetism in her little body
+that when she speaks she almost makes you believe what she believes.
+Now, I'm not going to tell you how she got into the house while Uncle
+Rob is here. As inspector of police he would consider it his duty to
+make use of the information.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I certainly should,&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;I'd best make myself scarce.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't go yet, uncle. I want you to hear something you ought to know.
+Gracie, talking to me this morning, tells me of a man she saw Dr.
+Vinsen speaking to last night. She hates that doctor--so do I; and
+it's because she hates him that she creeps behind them without their
+seeing her, and hears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise.' That's all she does hear,
+because the doctor, turning his head over his shoulder, sends her
+scuttling away; but she's certain he doesn't suspect that he'd been
+followed and overheard. There isn't much in that, you'll say; but
+listen to what follows. Gracie had just finished telling me this when
+a man passes us. 'There,' she says, 'that's the man.' I catch sight of
+his face, and who do you think it was?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Out with it, Dick,&quot; said Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was the juryman that's been putting all those questions at the
+inquest about our private affairs, and that's been doing his best to
+throw suspicion upon Reginald and me and all of us. Queer start, isn't
+it?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_43" href="#div1Ref_43">AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's villainy at the bottom of it,&quot; cried Aunt Rob. &quot;Dick, you're
+our guardian angel, and that poor little girl, that I'd like to hug,
+is another. I knew that wretch on the jury was against us from the
+first. There was a sly, wicked look in his eyes every time he turned
+towards us, and when he began to speak I felt as if some one was
+cutting a cork; he set all my teeth on edge. Ought such a monster to
+be allowed to sit on a jury?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who's to prevent it?&quot; said Uncle Rob, thoughtfully. &quot;He's there, and
+has to be reckoned with, though I doubt whether we can do any good.
+Likes and dislikes, when there's nothing tangible to back them up,
+count for nothing; and feelings count for nothing. When people shiver
+and grate their teeth at the squeaking of a cork other people who
+don't mind it only laugh at them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's nothing to laugh at here, father,&quot; said Aunt Rob,
+impatiently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know that as well as you do, mother; I don't think any of us are in
+a laughing humour. I'm trying to reason the matter out, and to do that
+fairly you must take care not to let prejudice cloud your judgment.
+When little Gracie Death overhears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise,' what proof have we that it
+has anything to do with the juryman's duties on the inquest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No proof at all,&quot; said Dick, &quot;but doesn't it look like it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Such an inference may be drawn, but an inference won't help us. It's
+no good mincing matters. Dr. Vinsen is on the right side of the hedge,
+and we are on the wrong, and that makes all the difference; he has the
+advantage of us. Reginald has put it clearly, and we must be prepared.
+Every hour a fresh complication crops up, and there's no telling what
+the next will bring forth. You see a man with an open newspaper in his
+hand; peep over his shoulder to find out what he's reading. It's the
+Catchpole Square Mystery, and he's running his eyes eagerly down the
+columns to see if anybody's caught, if anybody's charged. It scares me
+to think of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean, father?&quot; asked Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you ever seen a bull-baiting without the bull?&quot; said Uncle Rob,
+gravely. &quot;The public's waiting for the bull, and they won't rest
+satisfied till he's in the ring. That's where the danger is. They
+don't care a straw whether it's the right bull or the wrong bull; they
+want something to bait.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald compressed his lips; he understood the drift of Uncle Rob's
+remarks.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to say that they don't want to see fair play?&quot; said Aunt
+Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't mean that. What I'm driving at is that Dick's prejudice
+against Dr. Vinsen, whatever it may be worth, won't help us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will,&quot; said Dick, in a positive tone, &quot;and I'm going to follow it
+up. Just answer me this. Do you consider that the inquest is being
+properly carried on? Do you consider it fair that private family
+affairs should be dragged before the public in the way they have
+been?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't consider it fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, who is chiefly responsible for it? Who but the juryman
+that little Gracie catches conspiring with Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Conspiring!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the word, conspiring, and I don't care who hears me. The jury
+on the inquest are sworn, like any other jury, and if it can be proved
+that, before the inquiry is opened, before any evidence is taken,
+there is on the part of one of them an arrangement with an outside
+party to return a certain verdict, that I should imagine is a
+conspiracy, and the law can be made to touch them.&quot; Uncle Rob shook
+his head doubtfully. &quot;Well, anyway, there's a free press, and the
+making of such a conspiracy public would influence public opinion, and
+there would be no baiting of the wrong bull, even though he was in the
+ring. 'Hold hard a bit,' the public would cry, 'let us see fair
+play!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not badly put, Dick,&quot; said Uncle Rob, and Florence pressed the young
+man's hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As things stand,&quot; he went on with enthusiasm, &quot;it looks very much
+like a match between me and Dr. Vinsen--or, at all events, that's the
+way I view it, and if he were standing before me this present moment
+I'd fling my glove in his face, and be glad if it hurt him. How does
+that juryman fellow become so familiar with our private affairs? It's
+through him you're compelled to tell all about Florence's marriage.
+It's through him that it's been drummed into the public ear that
+Reginald is the only man who benefits by his father's death.
+Bull-baiting is nothing to the way some of us have been treated in
+court; and the prime mover of it all is Dr. Vinsen, who stands behind
+and pulls the strings.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But what has Dr. Vinsen to gain by it?&quot; asked Uncle Rob, bewildered,
+and yet half convinced by Dick's intense earnestness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's to be found out, and I'm going to, as little Gracie says. If
+he has given me something to ponder over I've given him something
+that'll set his wits at work, unless I'm very much mistaken; and I
+haven't half done with him, nor a quarter. Don't ask me what my
+plans are; it would be the spoiling of them if I let you into the
+secret--and I mustn't forget that an inspector of police is in the
+room, who would do his duty though it should break the hearts of those
+who are dearest to him.&quot; These words were spoken with exceeding
+tenderness, and caused more than one heart in the room to throb. &quot;If
+cunning is to be met with cunning, watching with watching, spying with
+spying, trickery with trickery, Dr. Vinsen will find that I am ready
+for him. Look here. What makes him start up all at once and go to Mrs.
+Death, and on the very first night he sees her give her a couple of
+sovereigns? Benevolence? Charity? That for his benevolence and
+charity!&quot; Dick snapped his fingers contemptuously. &quot;What makes him
+tell Mrs. Death a parcel of lies to poison her ears against me? What
+makes him tell me at your father's funeral, Reginald, that his heart
+is large, that it bleeds for all, and that it would be better for some
+of us if we were in our graves? What do I care for his bleeding heart,
+the infernal hypocrite? I'd make it bleed if I had my will of him,
+with his fringe of hair round his shining bald head! As for Dr. Pye,
+that mysterious gentleman keeps himself in the background till he
+sends a letter to the Coroner, saying he has evidence of great
+importance to give. We heard what that evidence was, and we've a lot
+to thank him for, haven't we? Did you notice him as he looked round
+the court till he stopped at Reginald? Accident? No! Premeditation!&quot;
+They started. &quot;I repeat--premeditation. I don't know for what reason,
+but I <i>will</i> know. I don't know what tie there is between Dr. Pye and
+Dr. Vinsen, but I <i>will</i> know. There's black treachery somewhere, and
+I'll ferret it out. Uncle, Aunt, Florence, Reginald, don't think I'm
+mad. I give you my word I am in my sober senses when I say that behind
+the mystery of this dreadful murder that has brought so much sorrow
+into this happy home there is another mystery which I'm going to solve
+if I die for it! I'll leave no stone unturned--for your dear sakes!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">His earnestness, his sincerity, the fervour of his voice, the loving
+glances he cast upon them, sank into their hearts--but it was upon
+Florence's face that his gaze lingered, and he trembled when,
+murmuring, &quot;Dear Dick, you fill us with hope!&quot; she gave him a sisterly
+kiss.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick,&quot; said Aunt Rob, tearfully, &quot;there was a time when I thought you
+had no stability, and when I said as much to Uncle Rob. I take it
+back, my lad, I take it back!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be too hasty, aunt,&quot; he said, with a light attempt at gaiety.
+&quot;Wait and see if anything comes of it. Reginald, I've something more
+to say. There's no mistake, is there, about your having got to your
+lodgings last Friday night week before twelve o'clock?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am certain it must have been before that hour,&quot; replied Reginald.
+&quot;As I told them at the inquest yesterday, I cannot entirely depend
+upon my memory. It frequently happens that when there's an important
+subject in one's mind--as there was that night in mine--a small
+incident which has no relation to it impresses itself upon the memory.
+That was the case with me. I can distinctly recall taking out my watch
+when I was in my bedroom, winding it up, looking at the time, and
+putting it back into my waistcoat pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did any person see you enter the house? Think hard, Reginald.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No person, in my remembrance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When you put the latchkey in the door the policeman might have been
+passing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He might have been. I did not see him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one saw you go upstairs?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not that I know of. The house is always very quiet at that hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I paid your landlady a visit last night,&quot; said Dick, &quot;and she does
+not know what time you came home; neither does the servant, who
+doesn't seem blessed with a memory at all. It is most unfortunate that
+we cannot get a witness who could testify to the hour of your return
+to your lodgings. It would effectually dispose of Dr. Pye's evidence,
+so far as you are concerned, for he says he threw his flashlight at
+three in the morning. By Jove!&quot; Dick exclaimed, looking at the clock
+on the mantelpiece, &quot;it's ten o'clock, and the Coroner's Court opens
+at eleven. I sha'n't be there till late, unless there's a warrant out
+against me&quot;--Dick laughed lightly, as though a warrant were the least
+thing they had to fear. &quot;There's the printing to see to; I don't
+intend to leave the printing office till the reward bills are out. Now
+let's settle how they're to be drawn up; we've got just half-an-hour.
+Aunt Rob, I wish you'd do a kind action for once in your life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Little Gracie is just round the corner, waiting for me; you won't see
+the tip of her nose unless you turn the street, for I told her to keep
+out of sight. She's my shadow, you know, and I haven't the heart to
+order her not to follow me about. What the child sees in me to haunt
+me as she does is more than I can understand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What we all see in you,&quot; said Aunt Rob, tenderly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, of course. Well, it's my opinion little Gracie came away from
+home this morning without any breakfast----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob broke in upon him. &quot;You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
+letting a hungry child stand alone in the cold streets all this time.&quot;
+Out she ran to pounce upon Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to tell me,&quot; said Dick, gazing after her, &quot;that the Lord
+will allow any harm to come to a woman like that, or trouble that
+can't be cleared away to come to anyone she loves? No, no; the world
+wouldn't be worth living in if that were so. Where she is, sunshine
+is, and love, and charity, and hope--and justice. God bless Aunt Rob!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And &quot;God bless Aunt Rob!&quot; they all said, with something shining in
+their eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Back she came, holding Gracie by the arm. They all looked kindly at
+the child.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Any trouble to get her here, aunt?&quot; asked Dick, cheerily.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not a bit.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's all right, you know, Gracie,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick, I know,&quot; she answered, solemnly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was something so patient and uncomplaining, so piteous and
+brave, in the child that hearts less susceptible than theirs could not
+have failed to be touched. Florence stooped and kissed her, and there
+was a little trembling of her bloodless lips; it was the only sign of
+emotion she displayed, and it was gone in a moment. The dry, hoarse
+cough had not left her, and she was not successful in keeping it back.
+Every time it sounded through the room Aunt Rob shivered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You men had best go into the next room and settle your business,&quot; she
+said; &quot;you haven't too much time to spare, and we don't want you
+meddling with women's affairs.&quot; Away they went, meekly. &quot;Gracie, you
+sit here, and don't be shy with us, my dear, we're only homely people,
+the same as yourself. Florence, put another spoonful of tea in the
+pot, and there's the kettle boiling, just in the nick of time. Now, my
+dear, you make a good breakfast--I want you to drink your tea as hot
+as you can, it will ease your cough--it's Dick's cup you're drinking
+out of, you won't mind that, <i>I</i> know--he's told us such a lot about
+you, and everything that's good--cut some more bread and butter,
+Florence--are you fond of jam, Gracie?--but what a question!--when I
+was a little girl I could eat a pot, only they wouldn't give me so
+much at a time--this is Dick's favourite jam, raspberry----&quot; And all
+the time the good woman chattered she was putting food before Gracie,
+and coaxing her to eat, shaking her head at the child's attempts not
+to cough violently, and shaking her head more when she put her hand on
+the bosom of the poor little frock, and discovered how thinly she was
+clad. And all the time Gracie sat quiet at the table and ate, not
+greedily but gratefully, her eyes fixed now on Aunt Rob, and now on
+Florence, with the sweet thought in her mind, &quot;Dick's told 'em a lot
+about me, and everything that's good!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Breakfast over, they took Gracie upstairs, Aunt Rob saying, &quot;Dick 'll
+be here when we come down, my dear &quot;; and in the bedroom above they
+took off her frock and slipped a warm undervest over the bony chest,
+and another over that, and found a pair of thick stockings that had
+once been worn by a child, and a child's flannel petticoat, and other
+things to match--and there stood Gracie, clothed more comfortably and
+warmly than ever she had been from her birth. And where did Aunt Rob
+find these garments so suitable and fitting for Gracie? They had been
+laid aside in a drawer, with many others, and had once clothed her own
+darling when she was no bigger than the poor little waif to whom they
+had been so ungrudgingly presented. To listen to the mother's wistful
+prattle, to witness the tender handling of this and that garment, to
+see the fond way she put them to her cheeks and kissed them, to note
+the loving looks she cast upon them as memory brought back the day and
+hour when Florence first wore them--true motherhood was never more
+beautifully expressed. And Gracie submitted without uttering a
+word--no sign of emotion on her sallow face, no sighs of delight, no
+tears. But when all was done and Aunt Rob sat down to rest, Gracie
+knelt before her and laid her head in her lap. Florence sat down too,
+and her hand rested lightly on the child's shoulder. Somehow or other
+these sweet offices of sweetest humanity seemed to soften the trouble
+that hung over their heads. Aunt Rob and Florence thought, &quot;God will
+protect dear Reginald. He will hold His shield before us. Upon His
+mercy we will rely. He will see justice done, and we shall all be
+happy once more.&quot; While in Gracie's mind was the thought, &quot;I shall
+find father, I shall find father, and mother won't be angry with me
+much longer.&quot; For quite two or three minutes there was silence in the
+room, and when Gracie raised her tearless eyes to Aunt Rob's face the
+good woman stroked the thin cheek and said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There, that's done, and now we'll go down to Dick. He'll be wondering
+what has become of us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was then that Gracie spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't you think mother ain't good to us,&quot; she said. &quot;There never was
+a better mother than she's been--and there's such a lot of us,&quot; she
+added, wistfully. &quot;I'd rather starve than have you think mother ain't
+good to us!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Bless your loving heart, my dear,&quot; Aunt Rob returned, kissing her.
+&quot;I'm sure she must be the best mother in all the world to have a
+loving daughter like you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, me!&quot; said Gracie. &quot;<i>I</i> ain't much good. But, mother!--she worries
+over my cough so that sometimes I wish I was dead, so that she
+couldn't hear it, and she sets up all night mending our clothes. I've
+caught her at it over and over agin. She'd starve herself for us she
+would. You'd believe me if you knew her.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I believe you now, my dear. We are all very, very sorry for her!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've been ever so good to me, and so's mother, but she can't do
+what she can't, can she?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No one can, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She'll be glad when she sees me with these things on. There's nobody
+like her, nobody. I wish I could pick up a pursefull of money to give
+her; but it'll be all right, you know, when we find father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The sooner he's found the better it will be for a good many people,&quot;
+said Aunt Rob, with a pitying glance at the loyal child, and yet with
+a kind of anger in her heart. Tenderly disposed as she was towards
+Gracie, deep as was her compassion for her miserable state and her
+admiration for the noble qualities she displayed, Aunt Rob believed
+Abel Death to be the cause of all this trouble, believed that he had
+murdered Samuel Boyd, and had basely deserted his family with the
+proceeds of his crime.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile the men of the family had been having a discussion below
+which had led to the withdrawal of Uncle Rob from the council. The
+first point discussed was the amount of the rewards to be offered.
+Reginald wished it to be large, and, supported by Dick, suggested £500
+for the discovery and conviction of the murderer, and £200 for the
+discovery of Abel Death. Uncle Rob opposed this, and contended that
+much smaller sums would be sufficient, bringing forward instances
+where the offer of disproportionate rewards had been the cause of
+innocent persons being accused. His views not being accepted, he had
+reluctantly given way. Then they came to the manner in which the bills
+were to be worded, and Dick had gone to his clothes trunk and had
+fished therefrom a miscellaneous collection of literature, which he
+placed before them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I once tried my hand at writing a sensation novel,&quot; he said, &quot;and I
+got together a lot of stuff to assist me. I made a muddle of the
+story, and when I was in the middle of it I gave it up. Do you
+remember this case, uncle?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He held up a poster offering a reward of £100 for the discovery of a
+murderer. At the top of the bill was the Royal Coat-of-Arms, beneath
+it, in large type, the word MURDER, and beneath that &quot;£100 Reward.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I remember it well,&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;That was the Great Porter
+Square Mystery. It caused great excitement at the time, and the papers
+were full of it. A long time elapsed before the truth came out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And then it wasn't due to Scotland Yard,&quot; said Dick; &quot;they made
+rather a mess of it there. There is one curious point of resemblance
+between that case and ours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wouldn't speak of that now,&quot; said Uncle Rob, with an uneasy glance
+at Reginald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not? Reginald is prepared for anything that may happen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite prepared,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;Go on, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were abroad when all England was ringing with it, and that, I
+expect, is the reason that it didn't reach your ears. I saw in one
+paper yesterday a comparison between the cases. The curious point of
+resemblance is that the son of the murdered man was arrested by the
+police as the murderer----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They did not know at the time that he was the son,&quot; interrupted Uncle
+Rob, hurriedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That didn't justify them. The beauty of it is that after going
+through no end of trouble and persecution he was proved to be
+innocent.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see,&quot; said Reginald, composedly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you want the bill for?&quot; asked Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As a literary guide. We will word our bill exactly like it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it is an official bill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Couldn't have a better pattern.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't you word it some other way, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, uncle,&quot; replied Dick, almost defiantly. &quot;This is the model I
+intend to use.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle Rob rose. &quot;God forbid that I should do anything to prevent the
+truth being brought to light----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, uncle!----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But the position I hold,&quot; continued Uncle Rob, firmly, &quot;will not
+allow me to sanction by my co-operation the use and form of official
+documents. Besides, if it got to be known it would do more harm than
+good. My dear lads, I'll wait outside till you've done. I doubt my own
+judgment in this matter; my heart and my head are at odds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So saying, he left them. He was not the only one whose heart and head
+were in conflict during this crisis; Dick alone could be depended upon
+to pursue a certain course with calm, unshaken mind, and now, when he
+and Reginald were together, he met with no opposition. The
+preliminaries, therefore, were soon arranged, and they returned to the
+breakfast room at the moment that Aunt Rob and Florence and Gracie
+entered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Gracie,&quot; exclaimed Dick, his face flushing with pleasure at the
+improvement in her attire, &quot;you look like a princess.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She did it,&quot; said Gracie, pointing to Aunt Rob; &quot;and oh, Dick, I do
+feel so nice and warm underneath!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never was a fairy godmother like Aunt Rob,&quot; said Dick, and was going
+on when she stopped him abruptly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where's father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Walking up and down outside till you're ready. He didn't agree to
+something I proposed, and between you and me he ought not to have a
+hand in what I'm about to do.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's in a cruel position. Florence, its half-past ten; we must get
+ready. You do what you've got to do, Dick, and don't talk so free
+before Uncle Rob about your plans; it only upsets him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All right, aunt.&quot; He hesitated a moment, then went up to Florence,
+who was putting on her hat. &quot;Florence, dear, you must be brave.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll try to be, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Keep a stout heart, whatever the verdict may be. It was very dark
+last night, and I kept my eyes on a star that was trying to break
+through the clouds. I put a great stake on that star, Florence. I said
+to myself, 'If it breaks through and I see it shining bright,
+Florence, after a little while, will be the happiest woman in
+England.' A great stake, Florence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, dear Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It glimmered and glimmered. A cloud passed over it, another, another,
+but its light was never quite obscured. Remember that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And then at last, when there seemed to be no hope for it, the clouds
+cleared away, and it shone as bright, as bright!--and the stake was
+won. That is how it's going to be with the trouble that's upon us. You
+see, Florence, it wasn't only your happiness that was at stake; it was
+mine as well.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yours, Dick!&quot; And now there was a look of pain in her eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, mine, for if, working with all my heart and soul, I can realise
+my dearest wish, you will have a long life of happiness with the man
+you love.&quot; He looked brightly around. &quot;Good luck, my dears. Come,
+Gracie.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_44" href="#div1Ref_44">IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now Gracie,&quot; said Dick, as they wended their way to a small &quot;jobbing&quot;
+printer with whom he was acquainted; he himself had spent a few weeks
+in a printing office, and, as a Jack of all trades, could do something
+in the way of picking up stamps. &quot;Now, Gracie, pay particular
+attention to what I'm going to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>I'd</i> like to have a word first, please,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go ahead.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is that young gentleman with the white face that the young lady's
+so fond of?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The young lady's husband, the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Reginald. I thought so. He don't look as if he could have done
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Done what?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You know. The murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He did not do it, Gracie. I suppose you heard Dr. Vinsen say he did.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He was talking to mother, but he didn't say it outright----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, the coward! I hope you don't believe a word that drops from his
+lips.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>I</i> don't; but mother does. Don't blame her, Dick; she can't help
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, poor thing. I pity her from my heart, torn this way and that as
+she is. But she's not the only one whose heart is aching over this
+affair. There's care and sorrow yonder.&quot; He pointed over his shoulder
+in the direction of Aunt Rob's house. &quot;Gracie,&quot; he said energetically,
+&quot;I'd pour out my heart's blood, drop by drop, if by doing so I could
+clear that trouble away!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're fond of her, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He glanced furtively at the sallow impassive face raised to his. &quot;She
+is my cousin, and Aunt Rob has been a mother to me. I've lived with
+them longer than I can remember. The last words I said to her just now
+were that I wanted to see her happy with the man she loved. That's
+what I'm working for, her happiness--that, and justice. Shall we go
+into partnership, you and I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick, please.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your hand on it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They shook hands, and he resumed his old bright manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There never was a successful partnership without implicit confidence
+between the partners. Do you understand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They mustn't be suspicious of one another.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's it. There must be perfect trust between them. I believe in
+you, Gracie, and I'd trust you with my life.&quot; Gracie's black eyes
+gleamed. &quot;You're what I call thorough, and you've got the pluck of
+twenty men. We're sailing, you and I, in the ship Endeavour for the
+port Safety. There's only one captain in that ship, as there must be
+in all properly commanded ships when they're sailing through dangerous
+rocks. Now, who's the captain?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good. I'm captain, and you're first mate, and no captain could desire
+a better. Says the captain to the first mate, 'Mate,' says he, 'I hear
+as how your father's disappeared, and as how they're saying hard
+things of him. That's what oughtn't to be, and we'll mend it. He's got
+to be found, your father is, and brought for'ard,' says the captain,
+'so that he may knock them hard words down their con-founded throats.'
+'That's so,' says the mate--it's you that's speaking now, you know&quot;--
+Gracie nodded--&quot;'that's so,' says the mate, 'and that's what I've made
+up my mind to do, and what I'm going to do. I've had a dream where
+he's to be found,' says the first mate----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;More than one, Dick--captain, I mean,&quot; said Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Right you are, my hearty, and there's many a dream that's come true,
+and likewise many that haven't. 'But it isn't because you've had a
+dream,' says the captain, 'that <i>I</i> shouldn't have a shy at the
+discovery of him, and that's what I've set <i>my</i> mind on, if so be as
+you've no objections,' he says. 'Objections!' says the first mate,
+'<i>I've</i> no objections'&quot;--Here Dick broke off. &quot;I suppose he hasn't,
+Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Dick, he hasn't. He thinks it more than kind of the captain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Love your heart, I knew you wouldn't have. 'And how are you going to
+set about it?' says the first mate. 'Why,' says the captain, planting
+his wooden leg firmly on the deck--did I tell you he had a wooden
+leg?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you didn't,&quot; said Gracie, quite gravely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, I just remember that he had. 'Why,' says he, planting his
+wooden leg firmly on the deck, 'seeing as how that good woman, Mrs.
+Abel Death, and Gracie, and all the other little ones, are more
+unhappy than words can express because father doesn't come home, and
+as how it may be to some persons' interests to keep him <i>from</i> coming
+home, I'm thinking of offering a reward to anybody that can give
+information as to his whereabouts--in point of fact to find him and
+restore him to the bosom of his family.' That's what the captain says
+to the mate--because he wants to act fair and square by him, and not
+do anything behind his back as might make him doubt that he <i>wasn't</i><br>
+acting fair and square--and he asks the mate what he thinks of the
+idea.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To <i>find</i> him, captain, not to <i>catch</i> him,&quot; said Gracie, slowly,
+with a strong accent on the two words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is how the captain puts it. To find him, and restore him to the
+bosom of his family.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie nodded, and pondered before speaking. &quot;If the mate--that's me,
+Dick--found father, would <i>he</i> have the reward?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As a matter of course.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who'd pay it to him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would be paid through the captain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Through you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Through me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then there'd be sure to be no cheating, and the mate could give it to
+mother.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Could do what he pleased with it,&quot; said Dick, dropping his nautical,
+and coming back to his original, self, &quot;and we're going straight to
+the printer to get the bill printed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How much is the reward, Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Two hundred pounds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, my!&quot; Gracie caught her breath. &quot;I don't believe father was ever
+worth as much as that in all his life. That's a big lot of money,
+ain't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A tidyish sum. You don't object?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You can't do nothing wrong, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then the partnership goes on swimmingly, and you won't mind seeing it
+on the walls. There will be another bill, offering a larger reward for
+the conviction of the murderer. All we want to get at is the truth, so
+that the innocent may be cleared and the guilty punished. I'm of the
+opinion it will surprise Dr. Vinsen. The slimy reptile! I'd like to
+twist his neck for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'd like to see you do it,&quot; said Gracie, not a muscle of her face
+moving.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're something like a partner. Have you any idea where the reptile
+lives?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You could find out, I dare say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, yes, I can find out if you want me to,&quot; said Gracie, quite
+confidently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's your sort. Only don't look for him in the reptile house at the
+Zoo, where his relations live. I want to know ever so many things
+about him. Whether he lives alone, or has a wife. Whether he has any
+children, and whether they have little bald heads with halos round
+them like their venerable parent. Whether he practises as a doctor,
+and what his neighbours think of him, etc., etc., etc. It's a large
+order, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll do it, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're a brick. Here we are at the printer's. But you mustn't go away
+without the needful for current ex's. You might want to jump into a
+bus, and if you keep out all day you'll want something to eat. Hold
+out your hand--one shilling, two shillings, a sixpence, and some
+coppers. If you've anything to tell me come to Aunt Rob's house any
+time between six and eight. I've a particular reason for not wanting
+to be seen with you in Catchpole Square to-night. Here are a couple
+more coppers for brandyballs for the babies at home. Now, off with
+you, my little detective. No sleeping partners in our firm. You and I,
+working together, will make Scotland Yard sit up. We'll beat the
+Criminal Investigation Department, even if it has a dozen Dr. Vinsens
+to back it up. Here's a kiss for good luck, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, Dick,&quot; said Gracie, and away she scudded, proud of the
+task entrusted to her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Neither of them had noticed that they had been followed in a shambling
+sort of way by an old man in list slippers with a skull cap on his
+head, sucking at a pipe which, in his close observance of them, he had
+allowed to go out. He was blear-eyed, and was cursed with a spasmodic
+twitching on the right side of his face, which imparted to his
+features a ghastly mirth; and close as was his observance of them he
+had so managed as not to draw their attention upon him. During the
+last moment or two he had shuffled so near to them as to brush their
+clothes as he passed, and had heard the concluding words of their
+conversation.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Thank you, Dick,'&quot; he echoed, with a half-tipsy lurch, as Gracie
+flew away and Dick entered the printing office. &quot;Dick! It's the man
+himself. Who'll give <i>me</i> a kiss for good luck?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He laughed and twitched, and with his eye on the door through which
+Dick had passed, proceeded with trembling fingers to refill his pipe.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a fair stock of &quot;jobbing&quot; type in the printing office, and
+the master, a working printer himself, was the very man Dick needed
+for the job in hand, trade being rather slack. In imitation of the
+official announcement of a reward in the Great Porter Square murder
+Dick had placed a Royal Coat of Arms at the top of his bill, but the
+printer argued him out of it, being doubtful whether a private
+individual had the right to use it for the detection of the
+perpetrator of a criminal offence. But for the better publicity of the
+reward Dick was bent upon a pictorial illustration, and out of a lot
+of old woodcuts they fished a rough wood-block of the figure of
+Justice, blindfold, holding the scales, which suggested the line
+beneath, &quot;In the Cause of Justice.&quot; Within an hour the type was set
+up, corrected, locked in its chase, and on the press, the paper was
+damped, the &quot;devil,&quot; a young apprentice, was wielding his roller, and
+the master printer, his sleeves tucked up to his shoulders, was
+pulling off the posters, which read thus:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the top the figure of even-handed Justice; then--</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE</i>.<br>
+
+<i>MURDER</i>.<br>
+<i>£500 REWARD</i>.</p>
+<br>
+<div style="font-size:90%">
+<p class="normal"><i>Whereas, on the Morning of Saturday, the 9th of March, the Dead Body
+of Mr. Samuel Boyd was Found on his Premises in Catchpole Square under
+such circumstances as prove that he was Murdered, and Medical
+Testimony has been given to the effect that the Murder must have been
+Committed either on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March. The
+above Reward will be paid to any Person who shall give such
+Information as shall lead to the Discovery and Conviction of the
+Murderer or Murderers</i>.</p>
+
+<p class="normal"><i>Evidence may be given to Mr. Lamb, 42, High Street, N., Solicitor to
+Mr. Reginald Boyd, Son of the Murdered Gentleman, who will pay the
+Reward, or at any Police Station in the United Kingdom</i>.</p>
+</div>
+<br>
+<p class="normal">The services of a bill-sticker not being immediately procurable, a
+large tin of paste had been mixed while the bills were being printed.
+Begging the loan of a pasting brush, and begging also the loan of the
+&quot;devil&quot; to carry the paste tin, Dick, now more than ever a Jack of all
+trades, issued forth to stick the bills himself, leaving behind him
+the copy of the poster offering a reward for the discovery of Abel
+Death. He was pasting the first of the bills on a dead wall when he
+saw the figure of the old man in list slippers and skull cap standing
+by his side.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hallo!&quot; he said, peering down at the twitching face, with its
+expression of ghastly mirth.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hallo!&quot; said the old man, peering up at the flushed, handsome face of
+the bill-sticker.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_45" href="#div1Ref_45">CROSS PURPOSES.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick recognised him instantly, and scented danger. The man who peered
+up at him, with all the leering muscles of his face at work, was the
+man of whom he had bought the rope and grapnel. With assumed
+carelessness he said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'll know me when you see me again, old fellow.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shouldn't wonder,&quot; said the old man. &quot;My name's Higgins. What may
+your'n be?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick had not quite finished sticking the first bill. Whether from not
+being used to the business, or from inward perturbation, he was making
+rather a bungle of it. Under any circumstances, however, he would have
+been ready to admit that there is an art even in bill-sticking.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let's make a guess, shall us?&quot; said Mr. Higgins, with a cunning look,
+plunging into doggerel. &quot;Riddle-me-riddle-meriddle-me-ree, first comes
+a, then b c d; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rye, the letter we stop
+at next is i; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rick, a c and a k will
+make it spell Dick.&quot; Mr. Higgins was so enamoured of this impromptu
+that he chuckled to himself, &quot;Will make it spell Dick, will make it
+spell Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look here,&quot; said Dick, an uncomfortable feeling spreading over him,
+&quot;what do you want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quartern o' rum,&quot; replied Mr. Higgins, suddenly descending from the
+heights of Parnassus.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All right,&quot; said Dick, &quot;at the first pub we come to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pub over there,&quot; said Mr. Higgins, twitching his head at the opposite
+side of the road. &quot;Throat dry as a bit o' rusty iron.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The bill was stuck, and people were stopping to read it. Even in these
+days of huge and startling advertisements on the walls--not the least
+conspicuous of which are the lank figures of blue or scarlet females
+in outrageous costumes and impossible postures, the product of a
+mischievous school of impressionists--even amidst these monstrous
+parodies of art a double-demy poster offering a reward of £500 for the
+discovery of a Murderer is certain to command an audience. So it was
+natural enough that a little crowd should gather, and that eager
+comments and opinions should be exchanged.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a big reward. £500!&quot; &quot;Ought to have been offered before.
+What's that picture on the top? Justice, eh, holding the scales? If
+she's anything like that, <i>I</i> don't think much of her. Anyway I wish I
+knew where to lay hands on the man that murdered Samuel Boyd. Set me
+up for life it would.&quot; &quot;Murderers you mean. When the truth comes out
+you'll find there's a regular gang, with Abel Death at the head of
+'em.&quot; &quot;Well, <i>I</i> don't believe he's in it. I heard a detective say
+yesterday----&quot; &quot;Oh, a detective. Much good <i>they</i> are!&quot; &quot;I say, don't
+you consider it a rum go that Mr. Reginald Boyd should be offering the
+reward? Why, there's any number of people says <i>he</i> did it.&quot; &quot;How can
+that be when he says he's willing to pay £500 for the discovery and
+conviction?&quot; &quot;Ah, but that might be a plant, you know. They've been
+that cunning from first to last that there's no saying what they
+mightn't be up to.&quot; &quot;What comes over me is what they've done with Lady
+Wharton's jewellery. Nice lot the ladies of the upper suckles,
+borrowing money secretly of such a cove as Samuel Boyd. I s'pose it's
+their gen-teel way of putting things up the spout. Now, what are they
+going to do with it when she can swear to every bit of it?&quot; &quot;Do with
+it? Take it to Amsterdam or New York. Easy to get rid of it there.&quot;
+&quot;Why go so fur? Ain't there plenty of fences in London?&quot; &quot;Never catch
+'em, never! There's no clue.&quot; &quot;No clue! How about that bullet in the
+wall, and the blood-stains on the floor?&quot; &quot;But the old man wasn't shot
+or stabbed. What d'yer make of that?&quot; &quot;Why, that they had a barney
+among theirselves when they was dividing the swag. Another man
+murdered, most likely.&quot; (Delicious suggestion.) &quot;What did they do with
+his body?&quot; &quot;Carried it to the river, tied a big stone to it and sunk
+it. When the reward gets known they'll be dragging the water from
+Greenwich to Windsor.&quot; &quot;Well, of all the mysterious murders <i>I</i> ever
+heard of this Catchpole Square one takes the cake.&quot; &quot;Queer move, ain't
+it, offering a reward before the inquest's over? What's the verdict
+going to be? There's a cove on the jury seems to know as much about it
+as most people.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To this and a great deal more Dick listened, and Mr. Higgins listened,
+without either of them saying a word. Dick lingered because he wished
+to find out what would be the probable effect of these bills on the
+walls; and Mr. Higgins, pulling at his under lip, listened because
+Dick listened, and watched the young man's face cunningly to see what
+impression the various arguments made upon him. There was malice in
+his bloodshot eyes, and Dick did not like the look of things. While
+thus ruminating and listening, Mr. Higgins touched him on the arm with
+his empty pipe.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fine day, Mr. Higgins,&quot; he said, in his free and easy way.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Beastly day,&quot; growled Mr. Higgins. &quot;I'm shaking all over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What's good for the complaint?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quartern o' rum, to commence with.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have to work for my living,&quot; said Dick, brightly, &quot;and if you
+insist upon my standing you a quartern of rum you'll have to carry the
+paste pot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;See you--hanged first,&quot; said Mr. Higgins, with a mirthless laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Think better of it,&quot; said Dick, insinuatingly, holding out the paste
+pot.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After a moment's hesitation Mr. Higgins thought better of it, and took
+the paste pot, with a grimace, to the imminent risk of the contents.
+Then Dick dismissed the printer's boy, and with the bundle of damp
+bills under his arm walked over to the publichouse, Mr. Higgins,
+carrying the shaking paste pot, and following close at his heels.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where will you have your rum,&quot; he asked, &quot;at the bar, or in a private
+room?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Private room,&quot; said Mr. Higgins. &quot;Better for all parties.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were soon accommodated, and liquor supplied, bitter ale for Dick,
+and rum for the old man, which he disposed of in one gulp. He then
+demanded another quartern, which Dick called for, and disposed of it
+in an equally expeditious manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You've got a swallow,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Now, my Saint Vitus friend, what's
+your little game? Leave off your damnable twitchings, and begin.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Higgins fumbled in his pockets, and produced three crumpled
+newspapers which, after much difficulty, he straightened out upon the
+table, a corner of his eye on Dick all the time he was thus employed.
+With tremulous forefinger, long a stranger to soap and nail brush, he
+pointed to a sketch portrait in an account of the inquest, which Dick
+recognised as intended for himself. It being evident that Mr. Higgins
+expected him to offer an observation on the libel, he said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who may this individual be? It's only a head and shoulders. Is it
+supposed to be a man or a woman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yah!&quot; was Mr. Higgins's sarcastic comment. &quot;What are you giving us?
+Can't you read what's underneath?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't you?&quot; retorted Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; snarled Mr. Higgins, twitching, not with shame, but resentment.
+&quot;Neglected as a kid, jumped upon as a man. But a worm'll turn when
+it's trod on, won't it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not being a worm, can't say. Take your word for it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And even a man that's been jumped on all his life can see a bit o'
+luck when it's ahead of him. Look here, young fellow; take the advice
+of a man old enough to be your father.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Say great grandfather,&quot; interrupted Dick, saucily, &quot;and get it over
+in once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Smart you are, you think--smart; but you'll find that cheek don't pay
+in this shop, Mr. Dick Remington. D'ye twig the name printed
+underneath this portrait. 'That's a face I've seen afore,' says I to
+myself when it meets my eye. I looks at another paper.&quot; Mr. Higgins
+turned over the sheet and brought into view another portrait of
+Dick--&quot;and strike me straight!' Why, there it is agin,' I says. 'And
+here it is agin,' I says.&quot; He turned over the third sheet, &quot;and
+underneath 'em all the name of Dick Remington. 'What luck!' says I to
+myself. 'What a slice o' luck for a second-hand dealer in odds and
+ends as tries hard to get a honest living, and as everybody puts
+upon--with trade that bad that it couldn't be wus--taking down your
+shutters and putting 'em up agin to the tune of two and sevenpence,
+which won't as much as half pay your rent.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stop your whining,&quot; said Dick, &quot;and cut it short. What is it you
+want?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quartern o' rum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The answer seemed to be so settled a formula when a question of this
+kind was put to him that it mechanically popped out like a bullet from
+a gun. Pending compliance with his demand, as to which Dick did not
+hesitate, and the pouring of the liquor down his throat, as if it were
+the mouth of a vat, there was an interval of silence. Then, with a
+wandering finger on the portrait, Mr. Higgins &quot;cut it short&quot; in two
+words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;True bill?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;True bill,&quot; replied Dick, with an assenting nod, &quot;and what of it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What of it?&quot; cried Mr. Higgins, with venom in his voice. &quot;Rope and
+grapnel of it!&quot; He thrust his twitching face forward to within an inch
+or two of Dick's.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, that's the game,&quot; said Dick, concealing his uneasiness. &quot;And what
+a game it is--oh, what a game it is! Says I to myself, when I gets
+detective Lambert's evidence read out to me--'there's a man for you!
+with eyes all over him, and one to spare'--says I to myself when I
+hears that evidence, 'rope and grapnel over the wall--by the Lord,
+he's hit it!' Then I asks the boy that's reading the paper to me, 'And
+who may that be the picture of?' 'That,' says he, 'is the picture of
+Mr. Dick Remington, nephew of Inspector Robson, and cousin of the
+young lady as goes and marries the son of Samuel Boyd on the sly.'
+He's a sharp little boy, almost as sharp as you, Mr. Dick Remington.
+'O-ho!' says I to him, 'and does Mr. Dick Remington give evidence at
+the inquest?' 'Yes, he does,' says the boy, and he reads it out to me.
+'You've missed something,' I says. 'You've missed what Mr. Dick
+Remington says about the rope and grapnel.' 'He don't say nothing at
+all about it,' says the boy. 'It must be in another paper,' I says,
+and I buys 'em all, and has 'em all read out to me, word for word, and
+if you'll believe me there ain't a word in one of 'em about the use
+that Mr. Dick Remington makes of the rope and grapnel he bought of a
+honest tradesman as sweats hisself thin to get a living, and then
+can't get it. That's what I call a coinci-dence. What do you call it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I call it a coinci-dence, too,&quot; said Dick, with a searching gaze at
+the disreputable figure, &quot;especially when it happens to an honest
+tradesman like Mr. Higgins.&quot; There was a gleam of suspicion and doubt
+in Mr. Higgins's eye as he twitched up his head at this remark, which
+caused Dick to add, with meaning emphasis on the words, &quot;To such a
+very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Something got in your throat?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Caught my breath,&quot; gasped Mr. Higgins, choking and glaring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At any other time the contortions he made to recover it would have
+amused Dick, but just now he was not in the mood for any kind of light
+diversion. Still it was with a mocking air that he contemplated Mr.
+Higgins, and in a mocking tone that he repeated for the second time,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Such a very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Get on, will you? You
+left off where you'd been having all the papers read to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">That the doubt as to the success of his enterprise which Dick's
+independent manner had introduced was not lessened was apparent, for
+though what he said was pregnant enough his tone lost something of its
+confidence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I gets 'em all read out to me, and it sets me thinking. 'What
+call has Mr. Dick Remington got to keep it dark?' says I to myself.
+'Why don't he say nothing about it? There's something in the wind. He
+comes to my shop, and buys a rope and grapnel in a secret sort o'
+way'--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wrong, my honest tradesman,&quot; interrupted Dick, and Mr. Higgins
+shifted uneasily in his chair, &quot;I bought it openly. Did I ask you to
+keep it dark?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, you didn't, but did you go out of my shop with the rope hanging
+over your arm?' O-ho!' says I, 'here's a working man ashamed to carry
+a rope. He asks for a bit of paper to wrap it up in, he does, and he
+puts it under his coat, he does. That's a rum sort o' working man,'
+says I.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Clever Mr. Higgins,&quot; said Dick, patronisingly, &quot;clever Mr. Higgins!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you mean to tell me,&quot; said that worthy, driven to exasperation by
+Dick's coolness, &quot;that you didn't use it to get over the wall at the
+back of Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square, that it wasn't you as
+broke the kitchen winder, that you didn't break open the safe--&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hold hard,&quot; said Dick, &quot;you've had the papers read wrong. The safe
+was not broken open.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What does that matter?&quot; snarled Mr. Higgins. &quot;Broke open, or opened
+with a key, it's all the same. The man as did it helped hisself to the
+money and jewels, and made off with the swag--with <i>my</i> rope and
+grapnel that cost me its weight in gold--how does that strike you, Mr.
+Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You old fool,&quot; said Dick, with a broad smile, &quot;if you knock your head
+against that brick wall you'll knock out the few brains you possess.
+If you think I can't reckon up an honest tradesman like you, you were
+never more mistaken in your life.&quot; And with the forefinger of his
+right hand he tapped the side of his nose, and winked at Mr. Higgins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But though he spoke and acted thus boldly he fully recognised the
+seriousness of this new danger. Say that this man laid information
+against him at the first police station; say that it got to the
+knowledge of Detective Lambert who was searching everywhere for a clue
+to the mystery. What would be the consequence? A warrant would be
+immediately issued for his arrest, and a search warrant as well. The
+rope and grapnel, tied up in brown paper, was now under the bed of his
+room in Constable Pond's house, and the key of that room was in his
+pocket. How could he explain away his possession of the rope? He would
+be asked why he made no mention of it at the inquest; his silence
+regarding it would be a piece of damning evidence against him. And not
+the only piece. His prowling about in the neighbourhood of Catchpole
+Square at an early hour of the morning, as testified by Constable
+Applebee, was in the highest degree suspicious when taken in
+connection with his possession of the rope and grapnel. His knowledge
+of the habits of Samuel Boyd, gained during his employment as clerk in
+the house, would be against him. One thing was certain. He would be
+deprived of his liberty, and the contemplation of this contingency
+filled him with dismay. Everything depended upon his being free to
+carry out the plans he had formed, and therefore upon his turning the
+tables upon the old vagabond who sat leering into his face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And in the event of his being arrested, what would be said of him in
+Aunt Rob's home? Was it not probable, aye, more than probable, that
+they would suspect <i>him</i> to be the murderer? He had woven a net for
+himself, and if he were not careful he would drag down Reginald with
+him. Press and public would say &quot;collusion,&quot; and the chain of
+circumstantial evidence be too strong for him to break through.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Admitting all this, he felt that any sign of weakness in the presence
+of Mr. Higgins would be fatal. There was nothing for it but to play
+the bold game.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've a good mind,&quot; he said, slowly and sternly, &quot;to go and give
+information against you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean?&quot; demanded Mr. Higgins, his features twitching more
+hideously than ever. Dick hailed these signs of discomposure with
+delight, and encouraged by the impression his sarcastic references to
+Mr. Higgins as an honest tradesman had produced he was quick to take
+advantage of it. He resembled the gambler who stakes his whole fortune
+upon the last throw.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you ever see the secret books of the police,&quot; he said, &quot;with the
+names of certain men with black marks against them? Why, we can lay
+our hands upon every thief and fence in London when we want to--do you
+hear? when we want to.&quot; Mr. Higgins winced. &quot;There are some things
+that lick us for a time, like this Catchpole Square Mystery, but we
+don't go to sleep over them, though some people may think we do. And
+when we're playing a high game we don't show our cards. What I mean
+is, that we'll have your place searched for stolen goods. How will
+that suit you, my honest tradesman? We can bring one or two things
+against you that you'll find it hard to explain when you're in the
+dock. If we let you alone it's because you're not worth the powder and
+shot, but get our dander up, Mr. Higgins, and we'll make short work of
+you. How does that suit your book? Take care of your precious self, my
+man, and let sleeping dogs lie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was vague, but effective, and it was Dick's good fortune that the
+hazardous shot told. Indeed, it had gone straight to the bull's eye.
+Many were the questionable transactions in which, from time to time,
+Mr. Higgins had been engaged. Petty thieves in the neighbourhood were
+in the habit of selling their small spoils across his counter; this
+modern Fagin was always ready to buy, and no questions asked. He had
+been in trouble more than once, and was in mortal dread of getting
+into trouble again. This, of course, was unknown to Dick, and it was
+only from his familiarity with the nature of much of the business
+transacted in some of these second-hand shops in mean streets that he
+had ventured upon the bold attack. He could have hugged himself when
+he saw the effect it produced upon Mr. Higgins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is nothing like a good understanding in these matters, Mr.
+Higgins,&quot; he continued, &quot;and I've no wish to be hard on you. I've got
+my own game to play, and it's keeping me pretty busy. Between
+ourselves--don't be frightened, there's nobody by--I did purchase a
+rope and grapnel of you, but is it for you to say whether I purchased
+it for myself or for another person, and what use I made of it? I
+might deny it if I chose, and then, my honest tradesman, who would
+take your word against mine? Is there any magistrate's court in London
+where your oath would be believed, much less your word? What a blind
+fool you are! Upon my word I gave you credit for more sense. Perhaps
+the reporter of 'The Little Busy Bee' used a rope and grapnel, perhaps
+he didn't. Perhaps it was the one I bought of you, perhaps it wasn't.
+I'm not going to let you into the know, Mr. Higgins. How would you
+like to have the papers down on you as well as the police? How do you
+know I'm not acting under instructions to track and catch the murderer
+or murderers of Samuel Boyd? How do you know&quot;--here he leaned forward,
+and tapped Mr. Higgins confidentially on the breast--&quot;that I'm not in
+the secret service myself? Would you like to hear what is in these
+bills that you are going to help me stick on the walls? I've just come
+from the printing office where I've had them printed. You can't read,
+you say; it is a pity you should be left in the dark, so I'll read it
+to you.&quot; Dick spread one out, and read it aloud, with unction. &quot;It
+reads well, doesn't it? I'm rather proud of it. That's a figure of
+Justice on the top. My idea. Rather a good idea, I flatter myself. A
+pretty fellow you are to come and threaten me with your rope and
+grapnel! I'll tell you what your game is, Mr. Higgins. Blackmail. That
+is it--blackmail. A dangerous game, old man, and you've got hold of
+the wrong end of the stick--perhaps you see that now. If I had
+anything to fear is it likely that I'd be going about in open daylight
+sticking up these bills? More likely to be sailing on the open seas
+for some foreign port. Where are your wits, you clumsy idiot?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To judge from Mr. Higgins's appearance, they had gone wool-gathering.
+He literally gasped beneath the volley which Dick had poured upon him,
+at the end of which he was sitting in his chair in a state of helpless
+collapse. Dick had turned the tables upon him with a vengeance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, what have you got to say?&quot; he asked, triumphantly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quartern o' rum,&quot; gasped Mr. Higgins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When we've finished our confab you shall have it, and another one or
+two on the top of it as we go along. Lord bless you, Mr. Higgins, I'm
+not an ill-natured chap, if you take me easy, and I have the credit of
+generally being freehanded when I'm not interfered with. Pull yourself
+together, and listen to what more I've got to say. What we want to
+do--the secret service, the detectives, the Criminal Investigation
+Department, and all of us--is to keep this matter as quiet as possible
+till the thieves and murderers are nabbed. We're working on the strict
+q.t., and we've got something up our sleeve, I can tell you. And I'll
+tell you something more. If any outsider interferes with our game by
+blabbing about ropes and grapnels it will be the worst day's work <i>he</i><br>
+has ever done, and he'll live to rue it. We'll wipe him out, that's
+what we'll do. We'll have no mercy on him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This was the finishing stroke. Mr. Higgins lay helpless at the foot of
+the conqueror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I made a mistake,&quot; he whined. &quot;Quartern o' rum.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You would sell your own mother for drink, I believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, no,&quot; protested Mr. Higgins, feebly, &quot;not so bad as that, not so
+bad as that. Good for my liver. Keeps me alive.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A nice state your liver must be in,&quot; said Dick, laughing. &quot;I think we
+understand each other. Take up the paste pot, and carry it steady. You
+shall be paid for your day's work. Tenpence an hour, so look sharp.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Higgins, completely subdued, had his fourth quartern at the bar,
+and shortly afterwards the British public had the privilege of seeing
+Dick Remington stick up the murder bills, assisted by an old man in
+skull cap and list slippers, in that stage of palsy from his recent
+experiences that his course was marked by a dribble of paste spilt
+from the pot he carried in his trembling hands. At every fresh
+stoppage a crowd gathered, arguing, disputing, airing theories. These
+chiefly consisted of conjectures as to who the murderer was, how the
+murder had been committed, how many were in it, who the man was who
+had been seen by Dr. Pye coming out of the house in Catchpole Square
+at three in the morning, whether he was the same man who had imposed
+upon Lady Wharton, how the blood-stained marks of footsteps on the
+floor were to be accounted for, whether there was any chance of the
+jewels being recovered, and so on, and so on. At one place there was a
+conversation of a different nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What I find fault with in that there bill,&quot; said an onlooker, a man
+with a forbidding face, dressed in corduroy, &quot;is that no pardon is
+offered to any accomplice as didn't actually commit that there murder.
+Where's the indoocement to peach on a pal, that's what I want to
+know?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A white-livered skunk I'd call him whatever his name might be,&quot;
+remarked a second speaker. &quot;Honour among thieves, that's what I say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, come,&quot; said a third, &quot;let's draw the line somewhere.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's what they put in the bills,&quot; grumbled the man in corduroy,
+offering no comment on these expressions of opinion, &quot;and I don't see
+no mention of it in that there blooming bill.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's what they put in the Government bills,&quot; said the second man,
+&quot;but this ain't a Government bill. It's a reward of £500 offered by a
+private individual.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A private individual!&quot; sneered the first speaker. &quot;You don't call Mr.
+Reginald Boyd a private individual in this here case, do you? He's a
+interested party, that's what <i>he</i> is. What I say is--and anybody can
+take it up as likes--where's the indoocement to peach on a pal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, don't take it to heart, mate,&quot; said another. At which there was
+a general laugh. &quot;Do you know how it runs in the Government bills?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I don't; but I know it's alias there, and allus should be there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can give you the words, if you wish to hear them,&quot; said a quiet
+onlooker, who, meditatively rubbing his chin, was watching the crowd
+and the billsticker.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick repressed a start. It was the voice of Detective Lambert, with
+whom he was acquainted. He turned and accosted the officer, who put
+his finger to his lips, thus indicating that they were not to address
+each other by name.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good morning,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good morning,&quot; said Lambert. &quot;I did not know you were in this line of
+business.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Anything to turn an honest penny, said Dick, cheerfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give us the words, mate,&quot; said the man in corduroy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They run in this way. 'And the Secretary of State for the Home
+Department will advise the grant of her Majesty's gracious Pardon to
+any accomplice not being the person who actually committed the murder,
+who shall give such evidence as shall lead to a like result.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You seem to be well up in it, guv'nor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fairly well. I did a turn in a Government printing office once.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you could inform us, perhaps, as a matter of general interest,&quot;
+said an elderly man, &quot;whether the accomplice, who would be Queen's
+evidence----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Queen's evidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would get the reward as well as the pardon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In course he would,&quot; said the man in corduroy, answering for Lambert.
+&quot;That's the beauty of it. Only wish <i>I</i> was an accomplice in this here
+blooming murder, with them words in that there bill orfered by the
+Government. I'd touch, mates, pretty quick, that's what <i>I'd</i> do. But
+as it stands, where's the indoocement? It ain't 'arf a bill without
+the indoocement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This insistence of the implied merit attaching to an act of treachery
+did not seem to meet with the approval of many in the crowd, who edged
+away, with distrustful looks at the speaker. Dick also walked off, and
+Detective Lambert walked by his side awhile, Mr. Higgins shambling
+humbly in the rear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A bold move,&quot; remarked Lambert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A proper move,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Anything new stirring?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lambert rubbed his chin for two or three moments without replying, and
+few persons would have supposed that he was paying much visual
+attention to the man at his side or the man in the rear; but Dick knew
+better. He knew that detective Lambert was one of the shrewdest and
+the most observant officers in the service, and that nothing escaped
+his attention.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Five hundred pounds is a good round sum,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Why not earn it?&quot; Lambert gave him a curious
+look, surprised, for one brief moment, out of himself. &quot;If it was a
+Government reward,&quot; continued Dick, who also had his eyes about him,
+&quot;there wouldn't be a chance for you, for the words would run, 'the
+above reward will be paid to any person (other than a person belonging
+to a police force in the United Kingdom) who shall give such
+information,' etc. Now, this reward doesn't apply in this way. The
+reward will be willingly and gladly paid to any person, whether he
+belongs to the police or not. Is it worth considering?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said Lambert, thoughtfully, &quot;it is worth considering. You asked
+me whether there's any thing new stirring. Well----&quot; But he paused
+suddenly, as if he were about to say too much. &quot;One of these days,
+perhaps, there will be a case in the papers that, for daring and
+mystery, will beat even the Mystery of Catchpole Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't imagine one,&quot; said Dick. &quot;It wouldn't be fair to ask if there's
+any connection between the two cases.&quot; He paused; Lambert was silent;
+Dick turned the subject. &quot;What do you think of my new apprentice? A
+modern species of Ganymede, carrying the pastepot instead of the wine
+cup. Nothing like novelty in these days; people run crazy after it.
+Only you must keep it well advertised; everything depends upon that.
+Drop your advertisements, and youth grows wrinkled in an hour. Now,
+what we're aiming at in this mystery&quot;--he flourished his paste
+brush--&quot;is that, until we get at its heart, people shan't
+forget it. We'll keep it before them morning, noon, and night. No
+hole-in-the-corner business. Step up, old man.&quot; This to Mr. Higgins,
+who came shambling forward, his features twitching twenty to the
+dozen. With the eyes of so sharp an officer as Lambert upon him Dick
+was not stupid enough to dream of keeping the old man in the
+background. He knew that any such attempt would end in Lambert's
+finding means of making himself thoroughly acquainted with Mr.
+Higgins's business and character before the day was out, so he took
+the bull by the horns, and introduced his companion by name, giving
+also his trade and address. &quot;There's a specimen of an honest tradesman
+for you. Queer sort of assistant for me to pick up?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's no denying it,&quot; said Lambert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's a little story attached to the way Mr. Higgins and I struck
+up a friendship. What's the best thing in life worth living for, old
+man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quartern o' rum,&quot; replied Mr. Higgins. The answer seemed to be jerked
+out of him by force of magnetism.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick laughed; Lambert made a movement of departure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you off?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Off I am. Take care of yourself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll try to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye's countenance during his late interview with Dr. Vinsen was
+not more inscrutable than that of Detective Lambert. The trained habit
+of concealing one's thoughts is part of the stock in trade of more
+than one class of men, and shrewd as Dick was he would have found it
+beyond his power to divine what was passing in Lambert's mind as he
+strolled leisurely away, but a quiet smile on the younger man's lips
+denoted that he was not dissatisfied with the problem he had presented
+to the detective. &quot;I've given <i>him</i> something to puzzle over,&quot; was
+Dick's thought, &quot;and I'm a Dutchman if I haven't thrown him off the
+scent in regard to my friend Higgins.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's a man for you,&quot; he said, as he gazed admiringly after the
+vanishing figure of the detective. &quot;Have you the pleasure of knowing
+the gentleman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can't say as I have,&quot; was the answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the famous Detective Lambert, who gave evidence at the
+inquest. And what a ferret he is! Search France and England through,
+and you won't meet his match. He had his eye on you, I noticed.&quot; Mr.
+Higgins shivered. &quot;If ever you get into his clutches look out for
+snakes. It's a pleasure to work with a man like that. He and I are on
+the same lay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Another hour's steady work, and the last bill was pasted on the walls
+and the last quartern of rum disposed of. Then he reckoned up what was
+due to Mr. Higgins, paid and dismissed him, and repeated his caution
+about looking out for snakes if it should be his bad fortune to fall
+into the clutches of the famous detective.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I've about settled <i>your</i> hash,&quot; mused Dick, as he saw Mr. Higgins
+plunge into the nearest beershop. &quot;But how do I stand with Lambert?
+That's a different pair of shoes. What did he mean about another case
+of mystery? I thought he was going to let it out, but he pulled
+himself up short. Never mind, Dick. You've had a narrow squeak to-day,
+and you've got out of it with flying colours. Go ahead, my lad, and
+stick at nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Had Detective Lambert followed Dick to the neighbourhood of Covent
+Garden and overheard what passed between him and certain well known
+tradesmen therein he would have had another problem to solve, in
+addition to those which were already occupying his attention.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_46" href="#div1Ref_46">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S&quot; REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION
+OF THE INQUEST.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The inquiry into the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd was resumed at the
+Coroner's Court in Bishop Street this morning before Mr. John Kent.
+Long before eleven o'clock the usual crowd of persons had gathered
+round the doors, but so numerous had been the application for seats
+from privileged and influential quarters that very few of the general
+public succeeded in gaining admittance. Intense as has been the
+interest evinced in this extraordinary case, the startling and
+unexpected revelations made by witnesses who have voluntarily come
+forward to give evidence have raised it to a level reached by no other
+murder mystery in our remembrance. It would be idle to deny that the
+evidence of the last witness examined yesterday has given a
+significant turn to the proceedings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So far as we have been able to ascertain, the police have obtained no
+clue to the man who personated Samuel Boyd and who so successfully
+imposed upon Lady Wharton in Bournemouth. We understand that it is the
+intention of her ladyship's advisers to offer a substantial reward for
+the recovery of her jewels, and a list of them, with detailed
+descriptions, has been sent to every pawnbroker in the kingdom. To
+this course we ourselves see no objection, although we are aware that
+many of the Scotland Yard officials are strongly of the opinion that
+the offer of a reward in such cases only serves to put the guilty
+parties more carefully on their guard. For the same reason they may
+object to the bills that are now being posted in London offering
+rewards for the discovery and conviction of the murderer or murderers,
+and for the discovery of Abel Death, of whom no news whatever is as
+yet forthcoming. The bills are appropriately headed &quot;In the Cause of
+Justice,&quot; and it is to be hoped that they will assist the cause of
+justice. We make no comment upon the circumstance that Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, at whose instance this step has been taken, has made himself
+responsible for the payment of £500 in the one case and £200 in the
+other. The argument that it will stimulate persons to recall
+apparently insignificant details in connection with the movements of
+the guilty parties, and to make them public, is sound, for important
+results have been known to spring from the revelation of details which
+in ordinary circumstances would be considered too trivial to mention.
+In the course of the next few days further developments may be
+expected.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was understood that this morning's proceedings would be opened with
+the examination of Mrs. Abel Death, but before she was called Mr.
+Reginald Boyd rose and addressed the Coroner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd: &quot;I ask permission to say a few words.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;You have already been examined, Mr. Boyd, and I am
+desirous not to subject the jury to the inconvenience arising from an
+inquiry unduly protracted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd: &quot;I can assure you, Mr. Coroner, and you, gentlemen
+of the jury, that I do not wish to waste your time, but you must see
+that what has transpired in the course of this inquiry affects me most
+deeply. In common justice I ask to be heard.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Let us hear what Mr. Reginald Boyd has to say.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I am in your hands, gentlemen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd: &quot;After the evidence given by Dr. Pye--or rather I
+should say, after the statement he has made affecting myself--my
+desire is to declare even more positively than I did yesterday that I
+reached my lodgings on Friday night within a few minutes of midnight,
+that I went to bed, and did not arise from it for a week in
+consequence of my illness. I fear that it is not in my power to offer
+corroborative evidence. My landlady and her servant went to bed, I
+understand, between ten and eleven o'clock, and have no recollection
+of hearing anybody come into the house after they retired. It is my
+misfortune, also, that I was the only lodger in the house. I let
+myself in with my latchkey. I have no remembrance of meeting with
+anyone nor of speaking to anyone, but I can swear to the time because
+I looked at my watch, and wound it up in my bedroom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Very well. Perhaps you had better not say anything
+more.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd: &quot;Why not, Mr. Coroner? I desire it to be widely
+known that I court the fullest and most searching inquiry. I cannot
+avoid seeing that Dr. Pye's statement that the man he saw bore a
+striking resemblance to myself throws a grave suspicion upon me. I do
+not impugn his evidence, but I contend that it is only fair that equal
+consideration should be given to my statement as to his. I will
+endeavour to make myself clearer. I affirm upon my oath that I was in
+my bed within a few minutes of midnight, and did not leave it again.
+Dr. Pye affirms that three hours afterwards he saw a person resembling
+me leave my father's house in a suspicious manner. To the truth of my
+statement I can bring forward no witnesses. Can Dr. Pye bring forward
+any witnesses to the truth of his? If uncorroborated evidence given by
+me is open to doubt, so should uncorroborated evidence given by him be
+viewed. A man's honour--to say nothing of a son's innocence or guilt
+of so awful a crime as the murder of his father--is not to be judged
+by a stranger's unsupported word. In the sacred name of justice I
+protest against it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">These words, spoken with manliness and deep emotion, made a marked
+impression upon the audience, which was deepened when they turned to
+the glowing face of the witness's wife. A murmur of sympathy ran
+through the Court.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror (referring to his notes): &quot;But in your account of the
+incidents of that night you informed us that you could not depend upon
+your memory. Quoting your own words: 'I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. The fever from which I immediately afterwards
+suffered, and which kept me to my bed several days, may have been upon
+me then.' Do you adhere to that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd: &quot;I do. In describing my condition my endeavour was
+to speak the honest truth, and to offer no excuse which could not be
+accepted by an impartial mind, nor to take advantage of any. But that
+does not affect my distinct recollection as to the time I wound up my
+watch in my bedroom.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;We must not, however, lose sight of the fact that no
+suspicion attaches to Dr. Pye, and that it is not his veracity that is
+here in question.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd (with warmth): &quot;Is that a fair remark from one of
+the jury?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;It is a most improper remark, and should not have been
+made in open Court. Call Mrs. Abel Death.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_47" href="#div1Ref_47">&quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE
+INQUEST.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The public are by this time acquainted with much of the evidence Mrs.
+Death had to offer. After narrating the circumstances of her husband's
+dismissal from the service of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and of his going late
+at night to Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square to beg to be taken
+back, the examination proceeded as follows:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What salary did your husband receive from Mr. Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Twenty-two shillings a-week, with deductions for imaginary faults.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he work long hours?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From nine in the morning till eight at night. Occasionally he worked
+overtime, but was never paid anything extra.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He was not happy in his situation?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How could he be, sir, with such a master?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They had frequent disagreements?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm sorry to say they had; but it wasn't my husband's fault.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he ask Mr. Boyd for a loan of ten pounds?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He hoped it would be granted?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We fully expected it, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The refusal to grant the loan must have been a great disappointment
+to your husband?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It almost broke his heart, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May that not have exasperated him, and caused him to speak words to
+Mr. Boyd which might have been construed into a threat?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am sure that could not have happened. My husband was most
+particular in telling me everything that passed between them, and he
+didn't use a threatening word. He did ask Mr. Boyd if he believed in
+God, and Mr. Boyd said no, he didn't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then there was bad blood between them when they parted?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I suppose there was, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To what do you attribute Mr. Boyd's unexpected refusal to lend the
+money?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To Mr. Reginald's visit in the afternoon. It made his father
+furious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, as to the object of Mr. Reginald Boyd's visit in the afternoon.
+Was it to obtain money from his father?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That was what my husband believed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And was this the object of his second visit late at night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My husband said of course it must be that, but that he wouldn't get a
+penny out of the old man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;After your husband's dismissal, are you aware whether he and Mr.
+Reginald Boyd met?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They couldn't have met, sir, or my husband would have told me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No doubt you have heard many of the theories that have been advanced
+to account for his absence from his home?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, sir, I have. Some say--the wretches!--that he murdered Mr.
+Boyd, and has run off with the money. Some say that he has made away
+with himself, but it isn't possible he could have thought of such a
+thing. I <i>was</i> a bit afraid of it the last night I saw him when he
+started up to go to Catchpole Square, but he saw what was in my mind,
+and he said, 'Don't you think that of me. You've got trouble enough to
+bear; I'm not going to bring more upon you. I'll do my duty, and fight
+on to the bitter end.' And that's what he would have done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you any idea at all as to the cause of his absence?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir. Foul play.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he have any enemies?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not to my knowledge, sir. He wasn't of a quarrelsome disposition.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Were there any money transactions between him and Mr. Reginald Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not exactly transactions, sir. Once, when we had sickness at home,
+Mr. Reginald saw that my husband was worried, and he asked him if he
+was in any trouble. Hearing what it was, and that we were frightened
+to send for a doctor because of the expense, he gave my husband two
+sovereigns. We thought it was a loan, but afterwards, when we offered
+to pay it off at a shilling a week, Mr. Reginald said it was only a
+friendly little present, and that he would be vexed if we didn't look
+upon it as such. I remember my husband saying, 'I wish I was working
+for Mr. Reginald instead of for his father.' We were very grateful to
+him, and I always looked upon him as a model young gentleman till old
+Mr. Boyd was murdered, and then----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why do you pause? Go on.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, I won't. It wouldn't be fair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;But we should like to hear, Mrs. Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm not going to say anything more about it, sir, unless you force me
+to it. Every man ought to have his chance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror (to the Coroner): &quot;I think, Mr. Coroner, the witness should
+be directed to finish the sentence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to Mrs. Death): &quot;You would rather not say what is in your
+mind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mrs. Death: &quot;I would rather not, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then I shall not ask you to disclose it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;But, Mr. Coroner----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;I am conducting this inquiry, and I have given my
+decision.&quot; (To the witness). &quot;How long did you remain up on Friday
+night after your husband went to make a last appeal to his employer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not go to bed at all that night. I waited for him till nearly
+two in the morning, and then I went to Catchpole Square, on the chance
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd would be able to give me some information of him.
+I knocked at the door, and hung about the Square a goodish bit, but I
+couldn't get anyone to answer me. Then I came home again, and waited
+and waited.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You went from your house at two in the morning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;About that time, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How long did it take you to reach Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was a dark night, and I should think it took me half an hour or
+so.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that you would be in front of Mr. Boyd's house at about half past
+two?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You knocked more than once?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Several times, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And waited between each fresh summons for an answer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For the answer that never came, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And after that, you hung about the Square. Can you say for how long a
+time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't speak with certainty, but I should say I must have been there
+altogether quite an hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That brings us to half past three?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;I see your point, Mr. Coroner, but the witness did not
+probably possess a watch.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Have you a watch or a clock in your rooms?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then your statement as to the time is mere guesswork?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir. When I was in Catchpole Square I heard a church clock strike
+three.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner (to a constable): &quot;Do you know if there is an officer in
+Court who lives near Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Constable: &quot;I do myself, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Is there a church close by that tolls the hour?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Constable: &quot;Yes, sir, Saint Michael's Church.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;It can be heard in Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Constable: &quot;Quite plainly, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Thank you.&quot; (To Mrs. Death). &quot;You heard the hour strike
+when you had been some time in the Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must have been there half an hour.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you remained some time afterwards?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For as long again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you certain that the church clock struck three?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am, sir. I counted the strokes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You did not move out of the Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;During the whole time you were there was the door of Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's house opened?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You did not see any man come from the house, and linger on the
+threshold of the door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At about that hour of three did you observe a sudden flash of light
+from an opposite house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, it was quite dark all the time I was there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are quite positive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite positive, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">While these questions were asked and answered the spectators in Court,
+many of whom had been present while Dr. Pye was giving his evidence
+yesterday, held their breath, as it were, and an expression of intense
+relief was observable in the countenances of Mr. Reginald Boyd and his
+wife and her parents.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Do you think, Mr. Coroner, that the evidence on the point
+of time is reliable?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;As reliable as the evidence of witnesses on other
+points.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;It is uncorroborated.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;So is the evidence of Dr. Pye, as Mr. Reginald Boyd
+remarked.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;So is Mr. Reginald Boyd's evidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Exactly.&quot; (To Mrs. Death.) &quot;I have no further questions
+to ask you.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_48" href="#div1Ref_48">THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We have now,&quot; said the Coroner, addressing the jury, &quot;arrived at the
+end of the inquiry, so far as the examination of witnesses is
+concerned, and the duty devolves upon you of carefully considering the
+evidence, and of giving your verdict. At the opening of this inquiry I
+made a strong appeal to you to keep an open mind, and not to be
+influenced by the rumours and theories which have been freely broached
+by press and public. It is in this way that the interests of justice
+will be best served. The case is one of the gravest import, and your
+task one of unusual difficulty. For this reason I feel it my duty to
+address you at greater length than is usual in inquiries of this
+nature.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are leading points in the case which we may take as established
+beyond dispute. One is that a murder has been committed, a murder of
+extreme brutality, and distinguished by features of extreme cunning.
+Another, that the man murdered is Mr. Samuel Boyd. Another, that the
+murder was committed on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That the crime should have remained undiscovered so long is due to
+the peculiar domestic habits of the deceased, and to the facts that he
+kept no servants in his house, that he lived quite alone, and that on
+the evening of the 1st of March he dismissed the only person whom he
+kept regularly employed. Had this dismissal not been given, and had
+Mr. Abel Death, his clerk, gone to his work as usual on the following
+morning, the discovery of the murder would have been made within a few
+hours of its perpetration, and the task before you would have been
+rendered far less difficult. I would not have you attach too much
+importance to the apparent connection between the perpetration of the
+murder and the disappearance of Mr. Abel Death. Coincidences as
+strange are not uncommon in matters less serious, and it is not
+because this matter is serious that the coincidence should be
+construed to the disadvantage of a man who is absent. Up to Friday,
+the 1st of March, his relations with his employer were as fairly
+satisfactory as could have been expected from the miserable stipend he
+received and from the character of the murdered man, and, unpleasant
+as those relations became on that last day, there was nothing in them,
+so far as we are aware, to supply a reason for the committal of a
+deliberate and dastardly murder, all the details of which must have
+been carefully planned. If Mr. Abel Death had been a party to this
+plan he would hardly have asked his employer for a loan of ten pounds,
+a small sum for a rich man to grant to his confidential clerk.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For the purpose of arriving, as far as possible, at a clear
+comprehension of this part of the mystery let us for a moment follow
+the probable movements of Mr. Death on that night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is dismissed from his employment, and he leaves the office, a
+disappointed and unhappy man; he relates to his wife all that passed
+between him and his employer, and subsequently informs her that he is
+going to Catchpole Square to make another appeal to his employer. I
+gather that the time of his arrival at the house would be about ten
+o'clock, at which hour we may assume that Mr. Samuel Boyd had not
+retired to rest. At about nine o'clock Lady Wharton left Mr. Samuel
+Boyd at the door of his house, and from that moment all is mystery. We
+know, however, that he must have had matters to attend to which would
+keep him up a couple of hours. Lady Wharton had deposited with him a
+number of valuable jewels, to which, when she was gone, he would
+naturally devote attention, appraising them, and probably taking a
+list of them. The dismissal of his clerk would most likely cause him
+to pay some attention to the state of the books and accounts, and the
+jewels had to be put in a place of safety.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;All this would occupy him a couple of hours, and this brings us to
+eleven o'clock, when he would be ready to seek his bed. But before
+this hour Mr. Abel Death, according to the theory we are following
+out, has paid his visit, or rather, has made his attempt to see his
+employer. He knocks at the door, and in response to the summons Mr.
+Boyd goes down to see who is there. A man living alone in a house so
+safely removed from public observation would be scarcely likely to
+open his street door to casual visitors at ten o'clock at night, nor,
+the business of the day being over, would he neglect to put the chain
+on the street door. His probable course of action would be to go down,
+and, opening the door as far as the chain would allow, inquire who is
+there. He is answered by Mr. Death, who begs to be admitted to make
+his appeal; is refused; while standing in the square implores to be
+taken back; is listened to, laughed at, ordered to go away, and the
+door shut in his face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not see how we can carry the matter farther as regards Mr.
+Death. To assume that he is admitted to the house, and that Mr. Boyd
+went to bed in his presence, is so wildly improbable that we may at
+once reject it. If anything can be said to be ridiculous in so awful a
+tragedy it would be to suppose that Mr. Boyd thus placed himself in
+the power and at the mercy of a man whom he knew to be embittered
+against him, and who was in a sense desperate. As to Mr. Abel Death's
+subsequent movements we are left in mystery. His wife suggests foul
+play. That a man left in the position to which my argument has carried
+him should deliberately conceal himself without a distinct motive is
+not to be thought of, and for this reason I consider the suggestion of
+foul play tenable. From whom, or from what quarter, who shall say? But
+we are not here to inquire into this matter; it is not the fate of Mr.
+Death we have to deliberate upon, and I advise you therefore to narrow
+the issue, which is sufficiently wide and perplexing, by setting him
+aside. There is nothing whatever to connect him with the crime beyond
+the merest conjectures, and were he alone concerned the only verdict
+that could be returned would be one of 'Murder by some person or
+persons unknown.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will now turn to another branch of the subject. In reply to a
+question I put to Mrs. Death she expressed her belief that her husband
+had no enemies: but a man carrying on such a business as Mr. Samuel
+Boyd transacted must have had many. However harsh it may sound, there
+is in my mind very little doubt that he must have inflicted great
+wrongs upon a number of persons. The tactics pursued by moneylenders
+of his class are so tricky and unscrupulous--they are so entirely
+oblivious of the claims of common humanity--that they must perforce
+breed animosity and resentment in the breasts of those whom they
+entrap. I am referring, understand, to that class of moneylenders
+whose nefarious practices have made them a danger to society, and I am
+happy to see that the strong arm of the law is being stretched forward
+to protect the unwary and unsuspecting victims who fall into their
+clutches. On the other hand, there are, of course, among such a man's
+customers some crafty borrowers who would trick the moneylender as he
+would trick them, men with doubtful reputations whose characters are
+no better than his own. It is for your consideration whether Mr.
+Samuel Boyd has fallen a victim to a cunningly laid plot on the part
+of a band of these men; the abstraction of the books and papers in
+which their names would appear favours this presumption. We have no
+evidence presented to us that affords a clue to the discovery of such
+a plot, but it will be as well not to lose sight of its probable
+existence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Returning to my argument concerning Mr. Samuel Boyd's movements
+within his house on the night in question, we behold him still alone
+at about eleven o'clock, his office business finished, the visit of
+Mr. Abel Death disposed of, and he preparing for bed. And here Mr.
+Reginald Boyd comes into the picture.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We have heard from his lips his account of what took place during his
+interview with his father, and we have to accept or reject it. They
+were alone together, there were no witnesses, and we have only Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's word to go upon. You must not allow this to militate
+against him. In the circumstances of the case it is hardly possible
+that there could have been witnesses to corroborate the account he
+gave, and I have no hesitation in declaring that his bearing in the
+witness box bore the impress of truth. It has been objected to that in
+the course of this inquiry private domestic affairs have been dragged
+into the light which seemingly had no connection with it, but painful
+as this must have been to certain of the witnesses, it has established
+more than one point which, in the opinion of some of you, may be of
+importance--such, for instance, as the nature of the relations which
+existed between Mr. Samuel Boyd and his son, and the fact that the
+latter was in extremely straitened circumstances. I do not think that
+any blame is to be attached to the son for having renounced the name
+of Boyd two years ago, when the strained relations between him and his
+father led to his leaving, or being turned from, his home in Catchpole
+Square. It is not an instance without parallel; men have changed their
+names for motives less powerful than this. Mr. Reginald Boyd's bearing
+while giving his evidence here, was that of a high-spirited,
+independent young gentleman, who held in abhorrence the business
+tactics and practices of his father, and it is not unnatural, when the
+connection was severed, that he should resolve to be quit of a name
+which carried with it a disreputable stigma.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor was it unnatural that Mr. Reginald Boyd should have believed
+himself to have been tricked out of the fortune his mother left him,
+and that, being now a married man, anxious to provide a home for his
+wife, he should have made an effort to obtain restitution. In my
+reference to these matters I am not wandering from the issue, for what
+you have to consider is, not one incident, circumstance, or act, apart
+from the others, but all the incidents, circumstances, and acts in
+relation to each other. What in the former case may seem suspicious
+may, in the latter case, be robbed of its suspicious complexion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And do not forget that there was not a single question put to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, whether pertinent to this inquiry or not, which he
+refused to answer. He evinced, indeed, an anxiety to disclose
+everything within his knowledge which cannot be regarded in any other
+than a praiseworthy light. He even went so far as to voluntarily
+mention small incidents leading to the asking of questions, his
+answers to which may be unfavourably construed. I observed him
+narrowly while these questions were being asked and answered. There
+was no confusion in his manner; he answered unhesitatingly and
+frankly. His demeanour was entirely that of a man who was giving his
+evidence with honest intention.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Interrupting you here, Mr. Coroner,&quot; said the Juror, &quot;was not the
+evidence of Dr. Pye given in a manner which invited entire belief in
+his honesty and straightforwardness?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was coming to Dr. Pye,&quot; said the Coroner. &quot;Yes, there was nothing
+in his conduct in the witness box that would warrant a belief that he
+was not speaking truthfully. It cannot be denied that the evidence he
+gave threw a startling suspicion on Mr. Reginald Boyd, and were it not
+for the evidence of Mrs. Abel Death which, in point of time, is in
+direct conflict with that of Dr. Pye, I should be addressing you in
+different terms, so far as Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned. Here we are
+confronted with a most singular discrepancy. Dr. Pye states that he
+saw a man issue from Mr. Samuel Boyd's house at three o'clock in the
+morning. Mrs. Abel Death states that she was in Catchpole Square from
+half past two till half past three on the same morning, and that
+during the whole of that time the door of Mr. Boyd's house was not
+opened. I do not see how these conflicting statements can be brought
+into reconcilement. The presumption that Mrs. Death may have been
+mistaken as to the time of her visit to, and her departure from,
+Catchpole Square is disposed of by her further statement that, while
+she was in Catchpole Square, she heard the hour of three struck from a
+neighbouring church clock. And we have evidence that the chimes of
+Saint Michael's Church can be heard in the Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Juror: &quot;Might she not have been mistaken, Mr. Coroner? It may have
+struck two. If Mrs. Death reached Catchpole Square at half past one
+and remained till half past two, the discrepancy would vanish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Coroner: &quot;Just so; but it is not for us to alter the statements of
+witnesses in order to make them fit in with one another. We have to
+take the evidence as it is presented to us, and draw our conclusions
+from them. I asked Mrs. Death if she was certain that the church clock
+struck three, and she answered that she was, and that she counted the
+strokes. However, gentlemen, there is the discrepancy, and you must
+place your own construction upon it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With respect to the night on which the murder was committed we may
+safely assume that it was Friday night. Mrs. Death's repeated knocking
+at the street door would surely have aroused the inmate had he been
+living. Mr. Boyd was in the habit of going out daily, but from that
+fatal Friday night he was not seen alive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So much of the morbid interest attaching to this case has been
+centred upon Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Abel Death, that there is a
+danger of matters being overlooked which have an important bearing
+upon the inquiry. The disposal of the body in bed and the composing of
+the limbs after a violent life and death struggle had taken place, the
+orderly condition of the rooms after the confusion into which this
+violent struggle must have thrown their contents, direct our minds to
+a consideration of the kind of men responsible for the murder and the
+robbery. That so much trouble should have been taken to remove and
+obliterate all signs of the struggle, and to make it appear that a
+ruthlesss and brutal deed had not been committed, would seem to point
+to the probability that the men are not experienced members of the
+criminal classes; while the skill and cunning of the plot, and the
+cool and deliberate way in which it was carried out, denote that they
+are men of infinite resource and daring. I use the plural because I
+share the belief that the deed and all that followed it were not the
+work of one hand. A master mind there certainly must be, and I can
+conceive no greater danger to society than that such a man should be
+at large, watching this case and guarding against its consequences.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly the leading motive was robbery, but behind this leading
+motive were others as to the nature of which we have no clue. For what
+reason were the books of accounts and the private papers of the
+murdered man removed? Valueless in a commercial sense, why should the
+robbers have encumbered themselves with articles of considerable bulk,
+the carrying of which, by night or by day, would have drawn attention
+upon them? Some ulterior motive there must have been. The close and
+secret manner in which the deceased conducted his business, the
+circumstance that he admitted no man into his confidence, serve, in
+the present aspect of the case, as a stumbling block to justice. The
+criminals must have been familiar with the premises and with the
+habits of the deceased. They must have known where the key of the safe
+was kept, they must have known that it contained property of value. It
+is difficult to understand why a sum of money was left in the pockets
+of Mr. Boyd, but it is only one of many circumstances which it is
+difficult to understand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And mark the hardihood, confidence, and patience with which the plot
+was carried to issues not included in the original plan of the crime.
+On Saturday morning Mr. Boyd lies dead in his bed, and the criminals,
+if not still in the house, have free access to it. I am following this
+out now because it is quite likely to have escaped you in the
+multitudinous incidents and circumstances of the mystery which it is
+necessary for you to bear in mind. On Monday Lady Wharton recollects
+that Mr. Boyd, when he received the fresh acceptances signed by Lord
+Wharton and endorsed by Lord Fairfax, omitted to hand back the old
+bills for which the new ones were given in exchange. She writes to Mr.
+Boyd, she being then in Bournemouth and he lying dead in London. In
+her letter she requests him to bring the old bills to Bournemouth, and
+also requests that the loan of £1,000 already arranged between them,
+for which she had deposited jewels as security, should be increased to
+£1,500, promising, for the additional £500, to hand him other jewels
+as security when they meet in Bournemouth. The letter written and
+posted, is left by the postman in the post box of Mr. Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square. And here we are brought face to face with the
+unparallelled audacity of the criminals. Having access to the house
+they obtain possession of the letter, and they conceive the idea of
+personating the dead man for the purpose of getting hold of these
+additional jewels. No illiterate, uneducated criminals these;
+past-masters in forgery as well as in murder, who shall say what
+undiscovered crimes may be laid at their door? I have no hesitation in
+declaring that no parallel exists in criminal records to the expedient
+they adopted and carried to a successful end. You have heard the
+astonishing story from Lady Wharton's own lips, you have heard it
+corroborated by her brother, Lord Fairfax. It is an extraordinary
+revelation, more like a chapter from the dark pages of romance than a
+chapter from real life. The closer the attention we devote to the
+many-sided aspects of this mystery, the longer we consider it and turn
+it this way and that in the endeavour to grasp a tangible clue, the
+more bewildering does it become. One moment suspicion rests upon one
+person, the next moment upon another, the next our suspicions fade
+away; while behind those whom we already know as being connected--and
+bear in mind, as likely as not innocently connected--with the awful
+tragedy lurk others whose identity up to the present moment is a
+sealed mystery.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It has been my desire to place the matter before you in as clear a
+light as possible, and I am fully sensible of the difficulty of your
+task. Justice demands that this mystery shall be cleared up, but be
+careful that you do not take a false step, for at the same time
+justice demands that you do injustice to no man because of some theory
+or prejudice you may have in your mind.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER XLIX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_49" href="#div1Ref_49">LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">While her mother was being examined in the Coroner's Court, little
+Gracie Death, glowing with gratitude to Aunt Rob and her family, and
+solemnly impressed with a sense of the importance of the task she had
+undertaken, set out on the trail of Dr. Vinsen. She clearly understood
+that she was serving Dick's friends as well as Dick himself, but it
+was of Dick she thought most, and it was him she most ardently wished
+to serve. The attachments formed by children, and the ideals they
+create, are often stronger and more binding than those of men and
+women; and no stronger attachment was ever formed by a child, and no
+more lofty and beautiful an ideal created than those which reigned in
+Gracie's soul for Dick. Her heart throbbed with pride to think that
+the man she loved best in the world next to her father had taken her
+into partnership, and had entrusted her with a mission. There was no
+indication of this on her quiet, sallow face, or in her black eyes.
+When passion is demonstrative it is far less enduring than when it
+lies hidden in the soul.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie intended to fulfil the mission entrusted to her. Dick had said
+that between them they would make Scotland Yard sit up. Well, they
+would. Inspired not only by the kiss which he had given her for good
+luck, but by an absolute reliance upon herself, Gracie pondered upon
+her course of action. She must go somewhere. Where? She had no idea in
+which direction Dr. Vinsen lived, and she was not the kind of girl to
+flounder about without something to guide her. Once she set eyes upon
+him she would stick to him like a limpet to a rock till her purpose
+was achieved. She turned her face homeward; he might by chance be
+there.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was there. She heard his voice as she was ascending the stairs, and
+she paused to listen. He was asking the children for their mother, and
+a chorus of voices informed him that Mrs. Death had gone to the
+&quot;inkage,&quot; which was the nearest approach the little ones could make to
+&quot;inquest.&quot; Gracie thought it was a curious question for him to ask,
+because she had heard him and her mother speaking of Mrs. Death being
+a witness in the inquiry. She crept up a step to hear what further he
+had to say.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And Gracie,&quot; he said, &quot;where's our little Gracie--our lit-tle
+Gra-cie? Has she gone to the 'inkage' too?&quot; Who could doubt that it was
+out of mere playfulness he gave their pronunciation of the word?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no,&quot; answered the most forward of the children, &quot;she can't get
+in, she can't. And mother didn't want her to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Other questions of no importance were asked and answered, and then the
+door of the room was opened, and Gracie saw Dr. Vinsen's legs on the
+landing. Down she slid, as noiselessly as a cat, out into the mews she
+sped, and from the recess of a neighbouring front door watched him
+issue from the house. He stopped and exchanged words with a woman whom
+Gracie knew, and with whom she was a great favourite; they were close
+to her hiding place, and Gracie heard what passed. He was very
+gracious, he smiled blandly, spoke in a smooth voice, and pushed his
+hat to the back of his head to wipe his brow, thereby affording a
+glimpse of his halo. To Gracie's surprise he was inquiring for her
+again, and the woman could not inform him where she was.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She's a busy little thing, sir,&quot; said the woman; &quot;she runs in and out
+as if all the world and his wife was depending on her. We all like
+little Gracie Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I trust she is deserving of it,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with a number of
+amiable nods. &quot;Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a
+thankless child.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If that's a dig into little Gracie,&quot; said the woman, with spirit,
+&quot;it's what she don't deserve. Beggin' your pardon, sir, I won't have
+little Gracie run down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One for him,&quot; thought Gracie, with a chuckle. &quot;Give it him hot.
+You're a good sort, Mrs. Thomson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear me, dear me!&quot; said Dr. Vinson. &quot;Run our little Gracie down--our
+lit-tle Gra-cie down! No, no, indeed! The sweetest child, the sweetest
+child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That she is, sir,&quot; said the woman, &quot;and I beg your pardon again for
+speaking so hasty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No offence, my good creature, no offence,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen; &quot;where
+none is meant, none should be taken. Is this your little one?&quot; A
+sturdy blue-eyed toddlekins was tugging at her apron strings, and he
+stooped and patted the curly head. &quot;Here's a penny for lollypops. Good
+day--<i>good</i> day!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He raised his hat, which caused the woman to stare, and strolled out
+of Draper's Mews. She gave a start when Gracie glided from behind the
+door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I didn't want him to see me,&quot; said Gracie. &quot;Thank you ever so much
+for sticking up for me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And she, also, strolled out of Draper's Mews, and followed Dr. Vinsen
+at a distance so carefully and warily, and apparently with so much
+unconcern, that no one would have suspected that she was engaged upon
+the most important task she had ever undertaken. &quot;Now I've got you,&quot;
+was her thought, &quot;and I don't let you go.&quot; She kept her sharp eyes
+fixed upon him. When he stopped she stopped, when he lingered she
+lingered, when he walked slowly she walked slowly, when he quickened
+his steps she quickened hers. It appeared as if he were undecided as
+to the course he should pursue, for now and then he looked about him,
+and seemed to debate which way to turn. It was evident that he had no
+definite business to attend to, and no definite goal to reach. Passing
+a public house of a superior kind, he had gone a dozen yards beyond it
+when he turned back and entered the private bar. Grace made a rapid
+survey, to see how many doors there were by which he could leave. In
+point of fact, although of course it was a corner house, there was
+only one, but of this she was not aware, so she posted herself on the
+opposite corner and watched all the doors, and if there had been twice
+as many she would have had eyes for them all. He remained a long time
+in the private bar, and when he made his reappearance he was still as
+undecided as to his course. It may have been out of mere idleness that
+he entered a chemist's shop and purchased something, which he put into
+his pocket as he came out. In this aimless way he and Gracie strolled
+on through Park Street, Islington, at one part of which he crossed the
+road and looked up at the windows of a house. It was the house in
+which Reginald had lodged. Gracie noted the number, and would not
+forget it. So they strolled on, past the Grand Theatre, past Sadler's
+Wells, through Clerkenwell into Holborn, where he hailed a bus for
+Charing Cross, and got inside. &quot;It's a good job Dick gave me some
+money,&quot; thought Gracie, as she scrambled to the top without being
+observed by the gentleman she had been following.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER L.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_50" href="#div1Ref_50">EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">At Charing Cross Dr. Vinsen alighted, and Gracie descended from the
+roof in the manner generally adopted by females, with her back instead
+of her face to the horses, which is by far the more dangerous way of
+the two to climb down from an omnibus. But, Gracie being a girl of
+unusual sharpness and penetration, it may be that she got down that
+way for the purpose of keeping her eye upon Dr. Vinsen, and if this
+were so she was quite successful, for she did not lose sight of him
+for a single moment, despite the busy throng of people hurrying in all
+directions, and the bewildering entanglement of vehicles of every
+description, which render this part of London at mid-day one of the
+most marvellous demonstrations of the civilised life of a great city
+that can be met with all the world over.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was now one o'clock, and the newsboys were shouting out the early
+editions of the evening newspapers, for if there is one thing upon
+which modern journalism especially prides itself, it is that it can
+take time by the forelock and can hurry the rising and the setting of
+the sun. In these shouts and cries Dr. Vinsen--still lingering with
+the uncertain air upon him by which his previous movements had been
+distinguished--appeared to take great interest, listening to them
+intently and scanning such portions of the contents-bills carried by
+the boys as were visible in the midst of the hurly-burly. The familiar
+cry of &quot;The Great Catchpole Square Mystery!&quot; was as potent a bait as
+ever to purchasers, among whom Dr. Vinsen was not the least eager.
+Gracie saw on the contents-bills such headlines as &quot;Emphatic Statement
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd,&quot; &quot;The Coroner's Reproof to the Juryman,&quot; and
+&quot;Mrs. Abel Death under examination,&quot; and she herself expended a
+halfpenny in literature, but did not stop to read the paper, her whole
+attention being required to watch her game and to elude detection.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the corner of Parliament Street Dr. Vinsen entered a bus that
+crossed Westminster Bridge. There was no room on the roof for Gracie,
+and she dared not get inside, so she ran along the pavement, her
+breath coming thick and fast; there was plenty of space in this wide
+thoroughfare for the vehicle to put on a spurt, and the horses
+galloped smartly on. Luckily for Gracie there was a stoppage at the
+top of Parliament Street to enable passengers to get in and out, and
+she could recover her breath; and when the omnibus started again the
+traffic on the bridge was crowded, so that she trotted along quite
+comfortably, and had no difficulty in keeping her game in view. At the
+end of the bridge Dr. Vinsen got out and sauntered on past St.
+George's Hospital and the shabby old site of Astley's Theatre, haunted
+by memories of Ducrow and Ada Menken--names strange to the rising
+generation, though once upon a time they made all London ring--and
+past a medley of mean shops, till, on the opposite side of the road,
+he called a halt before a warehouse where portmanteaus and travelling
+trunks were manufactured.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Under a verandah in front of this warehouse were a number of trunks, a
+few of which bore on their lids the names or initials, newly painted
+in white, of the customers for whom they had been made. Two bore the
+same name, Signor Corsi, and it was these which had the greatest
+attraction for Dr. Vinsen. They were of large size and special make,
+far superior to the ordinary travelling trunk. Entering the warehouse,
+he came out presently accompanied by a man, either the proprietor or
+one of his salesmen, who opened one of the trunks and pointed out its
+exceptional features. It was of peculiar construction; the interior
+was padded, and there were receptacles lined with soft material, in
+which articles could be deposited with little fear of breakage. The
+interest which Dr. Vinsen took in the trunks and the long conversation
+between him and the salesman, whetted Gracie's curiosity, and she
+burned to know the why and the wherefore; but being compelled to keep
+at a safe distance, she could not hear a word that was spoken.
+Finally, Dr. Vinsen entered the warehouse again, and did not make his
+reappearance for twelve minutes by a clock in the shop near which she
+was lingering. He and the salesman stood chattering at the door for
+another minute or two, and it seemed to Gracie as if he had given an
+order, for he made an entry in his pocketbook; then he turned his face
+Kennington way and hailed a tramcar. Gracie scrambled up to the roof,
+where she opened her paper and read the report of the inquest up to
+the time of going to press. Folding the paper carefully, she put it in
+the bosom of her frock.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen did not leave the tram till it had reached its terminus.
+This part of London was new to Gracie, and they were now some miles
+from Draper's Mews. &quot;If he lives here,&quot; she thought, &quot;it's a long way
+for him to come to us.&quot; That he did live there was proved by his
+stopping before a house of decent pretensions and opening the door
+with his own private latchkey. There was a little brass plate attached
+to the side of the door, and creeping past it Gracie read on it the
+name, &quot;Ezra Lynn,&quot; and beneath it in smaller letters the announcement,
+&quot;Sums of from £5 to £15,000 advanced at a low rate of interest on
+promissory note alone, without any sureties or security whatever, and
+without any beforehand charges. The strictest privacy and secrecy
+observed.&quot; Gracie's eyes dilated at the magnitude of the sum, £15,000,
+and for a moment her idea was that Dr. Vinsen had gone into the house
+to borrow that amount; the next moment she fell to speculating upon
+the strange circumstance that Dr. Vinsen should possess a private
+latchkey to such an Aladdin's Cave. &quot;I wonder!&quot; she said to herself.
+It was sufficiently expressive for her understanding, but it went no
+farther in speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She felt hungry, it being now past three o'clock, and she went into a
+baker's shop nearly opposite the house of Ezra Lynn and asked for a
+penny loaf. Behind the counter was a motherly woman with a baby in her
+arms. She gazed kindly at Gracie, and passed the crummiest penny loaf
+in her stock across the counter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You seem tired, child,&quot; she said, stopping in the middle of a little
+nursery song she was singing to her baby.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, ma'am,&quot; said Gracie, digging a piece out of the loaf and
+smiling at the baby. Gracie was fond of babies.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And hungry,&quot; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I <i>am</i> hungry.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wouldn't you like a bun better?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is more filling,&quot; said practical Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear heart, what a sensible little mite! And how dusty! You don't
+look very strong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, but I am; you mustn't go by looks,&quot; said Gracie, and encouraged
+by the woman's kind voice, she asked if she could have a glass of
+water.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall have a glass of milk,&quot; said the woman, going to an inner
+room and returning with it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's good of you,&quot; said Gracie, simply, &quot;I'm ever so much obliged to
+you. May I eat my loaf here?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly, child, and sit down and rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The chair she pointed to had its back to the window from which Ezra
+Lynn's house was visible; Gracie turned it round, so that she faced
+it. There she sat awhile, munching her bread and drinking her milk. A
+man came into the shop, poorly dressed, haggard, with distress in his
+face, and yet with a certain defiant independence in his manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you trust me half-a-quartern, missis?&quot; he said, abruptly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The woman shook her head. &quot;You're deep enough in my books already, Mr.
+Mildew, and I can't afford to let you get deeper. Charity begins at
+home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And stops there,&quot; said the man. &quot;All right. I thought I'd try. My
+heart's fairly broke trying to get work. It doesn't much matter. The
+kiddies must starve!&quot; He turned to leave the shop.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This touched Gracie's heart. She knew what poverty was; she knew what
+it was to want bread. &quot;The kiddies must starve&quot; fell upon her like a
+blow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Of the money which Dick had given to her she had only spent twopence
+in fares and a halfpenny for a paper, and she had more than
+half-a-crown left. &quot;The kiddies must starve!&quot; Not if she could help it.
+The price of bread was marked up in the shop window, &quot;Fivepence per
+quartern, full weight.&quot; She put twopence halfpenny on the counter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Please let him have the bread, ma'am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The man stared at her; the woman's face flushed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take your money back, child,&quot; she said. &quot;You shall have the bread,
+Mr. Mildew: it won't break me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She weighed the loaf, which was short of two pounds; it needed a piece
+for make-weight, and, the fount of kindness open, she was not
+particular to an ounce.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thank you, missis,&quot; said the man, &quot;I'll pay you the first money I
+earn, though God knows where I'm to get work. And thank <i>you</i>, little
+'un; you don't live on the fat of the land, from the looks of you.
+I've got a girl about your size and weight at home.&quot; He repeated the
+word with savage emphasis. &quot;Home! There'll be none to-morrow. Rent
+owing, money owing. Out into the streets we go. That's the law.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's got to be obeyed, Mr. Mildew,&quot; said the woman. &quot;It's hard lines,
+I own, but it's got to be obeyed. What does Mr. Lynn say? Won't he
+give you time?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not an hour, not a minute. He's sucked me dry, and sucked the last
+drop out of me. Him give time!--with the law on his side! I'd like to
+grind my heel into his face!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You're not the only one,&quot; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's no comfort. Look here, missis, just cast your eye over
+this&quot;--he pulled out a tattered penny account book--&quot;it's all set down
+in plain figures. Twelve months ago--here's the date--he lent me four
+pounds, and took a bill of sale on my bits of sticks. I didn't get the
+four pounds--it was eighteen shillings short, for expenses and
+inquiries and interest in advance. Three pound two, that's as much as
+I got, and I had to pay half-a-crown a week for fifty-two weeks. If I
+was a week behindhand there was a fine of sixpence, which kept on
+being charged and put down against me till that week was paid up. It
+was all a muddle, and I don't pretend to understand it, but a mate of
+mine that's quick at reckoning has figured it out, and he says it
+comes to more than six hundred per cent, interest. All I know is that
+I've paid five pound ten for that three pound two I got from him, and
+now he makes out I owe him twice as much again. And the law gives him
+right. What I say is, damn the law, and them that made it, and them
+that fatten on it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was pitiable to witness the passion and the helplessness of the
+man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie, listening to this tale of wrong-doing, and never losing sight
+of Ezra Lynn's door, saw it opened, and saw a man come from the house,
+a thin, slinking, sly-faced man in rusty black, whom she supposed to
+be Ezra Lynn; but she was presently undeceived.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's his jackal,&quot; said the man in the baker's shop, &quot;that collects
+for him, and grinds the poor chaps down that's drawn into his mill.
+Grinds 'em down, blood, bones, heart, and soul. Mr. Lynn's too grand
+now to do the small dirty work himself. It was different once I've
+been told, missis.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said the woman, &quot;I remember when Mr. Lynn first set up as a
+money-lender in the neighbourhood; they say he started with a hundred
+pounds, but a man like that, who wouldn't step aside to save a human
+creature's life, soon grows rich.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's worse than the lowest pickpocket,&quot; said the man &quot;I've heard he
+could set up his carriage, if he liked. He's got big fish to look
+after now; he leaves his jackal to look after the sprats.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I warned you, you know,&quot; said the woman, &quot;when you told me you were
+getting a loan from him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know you did, but I had a child to bury, and I couldn't get the
+money anywhere else. Then my missis fell ill----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He broke off suddenly. &quot;I've had my share of trouble, I think.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That you have, and I'm sorry for you. You're not the first by many a
+score that that man's ruined. And to talk to him you wouldn't believe
+that he'd pull a leg off a fly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it wasn't for the law,&quot; said the man, morosely, &quot;I'd have his
+blood!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The door on the opposite side of the road opened again, and Dr. Vinsen
+appeared on the threshold, buttoning his glove; a look of hate and
+fear darkened the man's features.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'd hardly believe there was so much wickedness under that smooth
+face of his,&quot; said the woman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Smooth face, black heart,&quot; muttered the man, leaving the shop
+hurriedly, and crossing over to Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie rose and made a step towards the door; she dared not leave the
+shop, for Dr. Vinsen stood immediately facing it. Her heart was
+beating violently, but her face was quite composed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is that gentleman, ma'am?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the man we've been speaking of,&quot; the woman replied, &quot;Mr. Ezra
+Lynn. I don't call him a gentleman myself.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would you mind telling me,&quot; continued Gracie, &quot;if you know Dr.
+Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Vinsen--Vinsen,&quot; said the woman, considering. &quot;I never heard the
+name. I don't think he lives in this neighbourhood. Bless my soul!
+What's the child after?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie had dashed out of the shop. She had seen Mr. Mildew approach
+Dr. Vinsen and accost him; she had seen Dr. Vinsen smile and shake his
+head; she had seen the man raise his fist, as if he were about to
+strike, and then, afraid that his passion might carry him too far,
+turn quickly upon his heel and walk away; she had seen Dr. Vinsen hail
+a hansom cab and get into it; and it was then that she ran out of the
+shop. Off rattled the cab, and Gracie after it. A couple of hundred
+yards, and her breath was gone, and the cab out of sight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's a good job I didn't catch up to it,&quot; said Gracie, panting on the
+kerb. &quot;He might have seen me, and all the fat would be in the fire.
+I've got something to tell Dick. We'll make Scotland Yard sit up. But
+what does it all mean--what does it all mean?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_51" href="#div1Ref_51">A DEAD LOCK.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Little Busy Bee&quot; and the other evening papers were kept very busy
+that afternoon. So far as the examination of the witnesses and the
+Coroner's address were concerned, the inquest was over, and it had
+been expected that the verdict would soon be delivered; but although
+the jury had been deliberating (some persons declared squabbling)
+since three o'clock, and it was now past five, no verdict was yet
+returned. It was rumoured that there was a serious difference of
+opinion between them on more than one point, and it was certain that
+they had obstinately refused to be guided by the Coroner, whose
+authority they set at naught. In vain did he argue, remonstrate, and
+expostulate with them; in vain did he draw up the form of verdict
+which he said it was their duty to deliver; they refused point blank
+to sign the paper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Animated discussions took place as to what the verdict would be, and
+so keen is the love of sport in the British mind that odds were laid
+on this or that conclusion. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd was first favourite; two to one on it. A verdict of Murder
+against some person or persons unknown was second favourite, six to
+four against it. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Abel Death, fifty to
+one against it. The names and the odds were freely bandied about, and
+there were many persons who discussed them with a light, not to say
+jovial, air; while Reginald and Florence, and Aunt and Uncle Rob
+awaited the result with feelings it is not difficult to imagine.
+Quick to take advantage of opportunity, the newspapers poured out
+edition after edition, seizing upon the most trivial incidents as
+headline-pegs upon which to hang their ingenious vapourings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At half-past four,&quot; records &quot;The Little Busy Bee,&quot; &quot;the Coroner again
+asked the jury whether there was any special or knotty point upon
+which they needed information or direction. The foreman replied that
+they did not need direction in matters of fact, but that there was a
+difference of opinion among the jury, who held such strong views upon
+certain aspects of the case, that it was doubtful whether any definite
+verdict would be arrived at.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'There must be a verdict of some kind I presume there is
+no doubt in your minds that a murder has been committed?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Foreman: 'None whatever. We are agreed upon that.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'You know the common form. A verdict of Murder against
+some person or persons unknown would obviate the difficulty.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Juror: 'It would not. I have followed the case very carefully,
+and have come to a conclusion.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'You are open to reason, I hope.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Juror: 'As open as yourself, Mr. Coroner, and, strange as you may
+think it, I claim to possess an average intelligence. Throughout the
+whole of this inquiry it has been forced upon me that there has been
+far too much dictation.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'At whose hands, sir?'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Juror: 'At yours, Mr. Coroner. You have treated us like a flock
+of sheep, and I, for one, object to be driven.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'I pass over the want of respect you show in your manner
+of addressing me. Gentlemen, in my long service as Coroner this is an
+entirely new experience, and I greatly regret it. In view of the
+serious differences of opinion between you, it is advisable that you
+take your law from me.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Juror: 'I shall not. I stand upon common sense.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Coroner: 'Gentlemen, this is foreign to the duty you are called
+upon to perform. Continue your deliberations, and arrive at your
+verdict as expeditiously as the interests of justice will allow.'</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would be obviously improper,&quot; said &quot;The Little Busy Bee,&quot; &quot;at this
+stage of the inquiry, to make any comments upon this very unusual
+scene. When the verdict is given we shall have something to say upon
+the rights and privileges of coroners and juries, which seem to be
+imperfectly understood.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One of the most conspicuous headlines in the journals now was,
+&quot;Deadlock among the Jury on the Catchpole Square Murder.&quot; It was weary
+waiting for the parties vitally interested in the result. Florence and
+Aunt Rob entreated Reginald to leave the Court, but he refused, and
+Uncle Rob upheld him. &quot;Reginald must remain till it is over,&quot; he said.
+He suspected that Reginald would be followed by the police if he went
+away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Meanwhile, news of the rewards offered by Reginald for the discovery
+of the murderer and of Abel Death had become widely known, and was
+freely discussed. And upon the top of this came another piece of news.
+All over London billstickers were pasting offers of another reward
+offered by Lady Wharton's lawyers for the discovery of her jewels, of
+which a detailed list was printed in the bills. Advertisements were
+also inserted in the evening journals to the same effect. So the
+excitement was fed and kept up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Once, when Uncle Rob went from the court to get a little fresh air,
+Detective Lambert came up and spoke to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A long job,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A wickedly long job,&quot; responded Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I saw your nephew this morning,&quot; said Lambert, &quot;sticking up the
+reward bills. He's the kind of chap that nothing comes amiss to; an
+all-round sort of chap; can turn his hand to anything. Just think of a
+young fellow like that turning bill-sticker. Not at all a bad move.
+It's a lumping reward, £500. Do you know what he said to me? 'Why not
+earn it?' says he, and says it as if he meant it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will it be paid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If it's earned,&quot; replied Uncle Rob, &quot;and I hope to God it soon will
+be!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah,&quot; said Lambert, and gave his brother officer a covert, sidelong
+look. &quot;See here, Robson. We had a private talk together, and I made
+you a promise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, you did,&quot; said Uncle Rob, and accustomed as he ought to have
+been, as an inspector of police, to strange surprises, there was a
+flutter at his heart. But then it was a beloved daughter's happiness
+that was at stake.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I promised to give you timely notice,&quot; continued Lambert, &quot;when
+something was going to happen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I never go from my word. Something <i>is</i> going to happen. I'm only
+waiting here till the verdict's given, and then----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your son-in-law's in Court, facing it like a man,&quot; said Lambert,
+branching off, &quot;and I admire him for it. Supposing the verdict runs,
+'some person or persons unknown,' he'll be coming out with the ladies
+on his way home when the sheet's signed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, he will; and if it runs the other way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Meaning if it's brought against him by name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then, of course he'll be prepared.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's prepared for anything, Lambert; he's made up his mind to it: so
+have we all.&quot; Uncle Rob spoke in a sad tone; these two men perfectly
+understood each other, though the meaning of what they said would not
+have been clear to a stranger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Step aside, Robson,&quot; said Lambert, and his voice was friendly, &quot;and
+let us talk as if it was the weather we were interested in. Cloudy
+to-day, fine to-morrow; there's no telling what changes to expect in
+such a blessed climate as ours. So it is with human nature; up to-day,
+down to-morrow, and the other way round. All's well that ends well,
+eh?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; said Uncle Rob, mechanically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Prepared for anything he is,&quot; Lambert went on. &quot;I call that sensible
+and manly; but he's been that all through. So what I say is, to save a
+scene, wouldn't it be a good thing to get your wife and daughter out
+of the way?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, by letting them go home by themselves. When two women are
+together like that, with trouble ahead, they're a comfort to each
+other. They must be tired out of their lives sitting in that stuffy
+court all day. A pair of bricks I call them; I should be proud, I
+should indeed, Robson, if they were my wife and daughter. Proud you
+must be of them--in a melancholy way, as things are, but that's
+natural under the circumstances. Wheedle them home, Robson, and let us
+get the business over quietly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle Rob knew what was meant by &quot;the business.&quot; &quot;It's decided upon,
+then,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, and I've got the warrant in my pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whatever the verdict is?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whatever the verdict is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there anything against him,&quot; asked Uncle Rob, with a sinking
+heart, &quot;beyond what has come out in the inquest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing; but that is supposed to be enough to commence with. Get the
+ladies away quietly, just whisper a word to him, and we'll walk along
+as comfortably as possible, and no one the wiser. I've kept it snug on
+purpose for your sake.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's kind of you, but there's no getting the women away; they'll not
+make a scene,&quot; said Uncle Rob, huskily; he was thinking of Florence.
+&quot;We've talked it over among ourselves, and I think it would alter your
+opinion if you could have heard my son-in-law this morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How do you know what my opinion is?&quot; asked Lambert, in his most
+leisurely manner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>don't</i> know. We couldn't help seeing the way the case was going,
+and if it could be done in a lawful and legal way, Reginald would not
+wait to be brought before a judge. He would go himself and say, 'What
+have you got against me? Here I am, ready to answer it.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it can't be done that way. There's a settled form to go through,
+and we must abide by it. Well, I've given my advice, and it's a pity
+the ladies should be present, but if you say it can't be helped, well,
+it can't be, and there's an end of it. What do you think about giving
+them a hint beforehand. It'll break the shock.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I might do that,&quot; said Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He looked up into Lambert's face; he could do that, being the shorter
+man by two inches. He was well acquainted with Lambert's character,
+and knew that he was kindly disposed towards him, but there was so
+much more consideration evinced for his feelings than he could
+reasonably have expected that it seemed to him as if Lambert was
+keeping something in the background. Lambert returned his gaze
+steadily and impenetrably, and passed his hand over his chin with more
+than his customary thoughtfulness, but there was nothing in that
+action to enlighten Uncle Rob as to what was passing in his mind.
+Still he was emboldened to say,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Speaking as we are in confidence, is there anything behind this,
+Lambert, that would bring hope and comfort to my wife and daughter?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lambert's hand travelled from his chin to his under lip, which he
+softly pinched as caressingly as if he were smoothing a favourite cat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why shouldn't she hope?&quot; he said. &quot;What's going to be done is only
+what might be expected. If her husband wasn't prepared for it of
+course it would be different, but as it is----&quot; He seemed to think the
+uncompleted sentence sufficiently expressive, for he did not finish
+it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'll wait till the verdict's given?&quot; said Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'll wait a reasonable time; I can't say more than that, because I
+shouldn't be surprised--and don't you be--if something happens that I
+can't call to mind has ever happened before in a murder inquest, and
+that is, that the jury will either give no verdict at all, or will
+give one that the Coroner will refuse to accept. There's a man among
+them who's bent upon having his own way, and that will stick out like
+grim death if he can't bring the others to his way of thinking. He's a
+kind of animal not often met with on juries, but there he is, and has
+to be reckoned with. A curious point, isn't it? But you can make up
+your mind to one thing. So far as justice is concerned there will be
+no dead lock. I've got hold of the reins, and I'll see to that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle Rob searched his mind for a clue, and did not find it. Lambert's
+voice was resolute and stern, and he was about to arrest a man to save
+whose life Uncle Rob would have laid down his own; and yet here he was
+unbosoming himself in a friendly and confiding way to the very person
+against whose happiness he was conspiring. It would have taken a wiser
+head than Uncle Rob's to solve the enigma. What Lambert said next did
+not help to make matters clearer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And don't take it too much to heart,&quot; he said, with a soothing pat on
+Uncle Rob's shoulder. &quot;I know what I'm about, so don't take it too
+much to heart. It's the advice of a friend, Robson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's cold comfort in it when the charge is murder, and a man's
+life is hanging to it,&quot; said Uncle Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps so, perhaps so, if you look at it only from the outside; but
+there's another view.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's <i>my</i> secret. When I let it out you'll see what I'm driving at.
+I've done one or two things in my time, and this will be the climax.&quot;
+He smacked his lips with a relish, and repeated, &quot;The climax. I put it
+to you, Robson, old man, whether it isn't better that the arrest
+should be made by a friendly hand than by the hand of a stranger? I'm
+not the only one who's itching to get the credit of clearing up a
+mystery that's set all London ringing; and we're not half done with it
+yet, not half done. It's a feather in one's cap to be mixed up with
+it.&quot; He rubbed his hands. &quot;No wonder others are keen upon it, but
+there s only one man in England that's got his finger on the pulse of
+the mystery, and that's the man that's talking to you now, and taking
+you, in a manner of speaking, into his confidence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ana that is why you are going to arrest my son-in-law,&quot; said Uncle
+Rob, rather bitterly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And that is why,&quot; said Lambert, cheerfully, &quot;I am going to arrest
+your son-in-law on the charge of murdering his father, Mr. Samuel
+Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Before long you'll be shaking me by the
+hand, and thanking me for what I'm doing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then you don't believe him guilty?&quot; said Uncle Rob, eagerly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't ask me for opinions. I've been open with you for old times'
+sake, but my opinions, for the present, I keep to myself.&quot; He looked
+at his watch. &quot;What time are you due at the station, Robson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must be there within the hour. I wish I'd resigned, or asked to be
+suspended.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The worst move you could have made. Duty's duty. There was a Roman
+father once--I don't remember his name--that sent his own son to
+execution, and looked on while it was done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you mean?&quot; asked Uncle Rob. His voice trembled, his fingers
+twined convulsively.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's plain enough,&quot; said Lambert, half roughly. &quot;You're on night duty
+at Bishop Street Station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And the charge will be laid there!&quot; cried Uncle Rob, a cold
+perspiration breaking out on his forehead.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's in the district; it's the nearest station. There's no help for
+it; I wish there was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They'll never forgive me, never!&quot; said Uncle Rob. &quot;My own child,
+Lambert, my own child! To strike a death blow at my own child!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who's talking of death blows? Pull yourself together. It's better so;
+you can make things easier for him. As for forgiveness, they're not
+the women I take them for if they harbour a thought against you.
+They're true grit, that's what they are.&quot; &quot;There's something going on
+in Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They hurried in together, and were present at another altercation
+between Coroner and jury, the leading actors in it being, as before,
+the Coroner and the recalcitrant juror. From the flushed faces of the
+jurymen it was evident that there had been a heated discussion.
+Finally the Coroner proposed to take the verdict of the majority, and
+another difficulty presented itself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's no majority,&quot; said the foreman, who appeared to be the most
+helpless of the party. &quot;As a matter of fact we are split into three
+camps of equal numbers, and no one will give way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there no possibility of your agreeing?&quot; inquired the Coroner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If we were locked up for a week,&quot; replied the foreman, &quot;I don't
+believe we should agree.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well,&quot; said the Coroner, with a motion as if he were giving up the
+thing in despair, &quot;let me know in plain terms how the matter stands,
+and I will see what can be done.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will put it down in writing,&quot; said the foreman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Thereupon the jury retired, and after a lapse of twenty minutes or so
+returned with three documents, which were handed to the Coroner. They
+revealed an extraordinary state of affairs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first, signed by four jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful Murder
+against some person or persons unknown.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The second, signed by four other jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful
+Murder against Abel Death.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When this was read out a shriek rang through the court, and Mrs.
+Death, starting to her feet, screamed in wild tones,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You wicked liars! You liars! You wicked liars!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With great difficulty she was silenced, and restrained from rushing to
+the spot where the jurymen were clustered together.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The third document, signed by other four jurymen, was a verdict of
+Wilful Murder against Reginald Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you present these to me in all seriousness?&quot; asked the Coroner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They are the conclusions arrived at by the jury,&quot; replied the Juror.
+&quot;With eight of my colleagues I do not agree, but for all that I have
+not hectored them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your conduct during this inquiry is open to severe censure,&quot; said the
+Coroner, &quot;and you strangely misapprehend your duty. Gentlemen, you
+have presented me with three separate verdicts, which you must have
+known I cannot accept. The dissensions which have arisen amongst you
+are deeply regrettable, and I tell you plainly you have not served the
+cause of justice. I have placed before you a form of verdict which
+would meet the general view of the case, and leave the matter open to
+the proper authorities. You have declined to be guided by me, and I am
+afraid it would be useless to argue any longer with you. What do you
+say, Mr. Foreman?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From the differences that exist between us, sir, quite useless,&quot;
+replied the foreman.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The position is a difficult one, and I must take time to consider it.
+I regret, gentlemen, that I cannot discharge you from your labours,
+but that is no fault of mine. You will attend this court next Thursday
+morning at eleven o'clock. By that time, perhaps, something may
+transpire which will settle your doubts--which I trust,&quot; he added,
+&quot;are conscientious doubts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The announcement that their labours were not at an end was received by
+the jury with murmurs of dissatisfaction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The remedy lies with yourselves,&quot; said the Coroner. &quot;In a criminal
+court where the jury disagree, the case may be put back and tried
+again before a fresh jury, but this cannot be done in a Coroner's
+Court. Before I finally discharge you, you will have to return a
+verdict. You will be here this day week punctually at eleven o'clock
+in the morning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The court then broke up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There were still a great many spectators who had waited in the
+expectation that a verdict would be delivered, and they filed out
+slowly, eagerly discussing the position of affairs, one man declaring
+that the Catchpole Square Mystery, from first to last, was nothing but
+a series of the most startling sensations, adding, &quot;And I'm greatly
+mistaken if there's not more to come.&quot; He rolled this round his
+tongue, as if it were a delectable morsel. Detective Lambert, without
+seeming to notice Reginald, was almost the first to leave the court,
+and he stood outside, smoothing his chin, a target for all eyes, for
+his fame had travelled far and wide, and it was already rumoured that
+he had &quot;taken up&quot; the Catchpole Square Mystery. Two or three of the
+jurymen still lingered within the court, and glanced with curiosity at
+the Robson group and at Mrs. Death, whose state of agitation it was
+pitiable to witness. Now she beat the air with her trembling hands,
+now she clasped them convulsively, while inarticulate words of protest
+dropped from her quivering lips. All these persons moved slowly to the
+door of the courthouse.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_52" href="#div1Ref_52">ARRESTED FOR MURDER.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A moment, Reginald,&quot; said Uncle Rob, in a low tone, laying his hand
+on the young man's arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">As the men fell back a pace or two they came face to face with Mrs.
+Death. In his heart Reginald believed Abel Death to be innocent, and
+even in the midst of his own trouble he would have addressed a word of
+comfort to her, but she, distracted by grief and indignant horror,
+held up her hands as if to ward him off, and brushed past him into the
+open. She had been present during the whole of the inquest, but her
+mind was in too agitated a state to pay close attention to any of the
+evidence except those parts which affected her husband, and she had
+therefore, until she heard the Coroner's address to the jury, missed
+the significance of the contradiction she had given to the statement
+of Dr. Pye as to the hour he had seen a man come from Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square. In justice to her it must be said that even
+if she had recognised it when she was under examination she would not
+have withheld it, for she was a fair-minded woman, and was still
+grateful for the kindness the young man had once shown them. But it
+seemed to her now that in weakening the case against Reginald she had
+strengthened it against her husband, and it was this that caused her
+to reject with horror the advances which Reginald had made towards
+her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She believes me guilty,&quot; thought Reginald, as she disappeared through
+the door of the court; and then, turning to Uncle Rob, he said, &quot;What
+is it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Detective Lambert is waiting outside,&quot; said Uncle Rob in a low tone.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For me?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Reginald could not help being startled, though he had been all day
+inwardly preparing himself. Stepping to Aunt Rob's side he said, in a
+tone of assumed lightness, &quot;We are full of secrets just now. I have
+one for you; Florence won't mind.&quot; Drawing her away he whispered,
+&quot;Take Florence home.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had not time to say more, for Florence, although she had not heard
+what had passed had caught its sense, and she now glided swiftly to
+his side, and clung close to his arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go home, dearest,&quot; he said. &quot;I am going to walk with your father to
+the station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will walk with you,&quot; said Florence, and then in an imploring tone,
+&quot;Do not send me away from you till the last moment!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why, Florence, my love,&quot; said Reginald, as if in surprise, but here
+Aunt Rob interposed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There must be no more secrets. Don't keep anything from us, father.
+Tell us the worst; we can bear it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Uncle Rob looked at Reginald, who nodded, and passed his arm round
+Florence's waist.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lambert has been talking to me,&quot; said Uncle Rob; &quot;he has behaved very
+considerately, and asked me to break it to you.&quot; His voice faltered.
+&quot;He has a warrant for Reginald's arrest. Courage, my dears, courage!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">This little party, at whom so terrible a blow was dealt, now stood
+apart and alone, and what they said could be heard only by themselves.
+Aunt Rob drew a long breath.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's what we've been waiting for,&quot; she said, &quot;and it had to come.
+Reginald will face it like a man, and will fling the lie into their
+faces. Keep a stout heart, my lad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I suffer,&quot; he replied, &quot;it is because of the grief I have brought
+into my dear Florence's life.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not a grief of your creating, dear,&quot; said Florence, &quot;and you
+have brought nothing into my life which has not strengthened my love
+for you. I put my trust in God.&quot; She bent down, and pressed her lips
+upon his hand; the night had fallen, and those at a distance could not
+see the action. &quot;Oh, my dear, my dear! He will not allow the innocent
+to suffer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be brave, for my sake, dearest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will be. I am.&quot; And in her heart was the prayer, &quot;God shield my
+beloved! God protect him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They issued into the open air, and stood by Lambert's side in silence.
+The only movement he made was to beckon to a constable, and,
+whispering a few words to him, to point somewhat conspicuously to the
+juror who had shown himself so inimical to Reginald. All the other
+jurymen had taken their departure; this man alone was waiting.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If Lambert's aim was to arouse in him the aggressive spirit of which
+he had given frequent instances during the inquest, it was gained, for
+the juror walked up to the detective, and inquired if he had pointed
+at him with any particular design, and if so, what it was and what he
+meant by it. Lambert stroked his chin and did not answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The road's free to all, I suppose,&quot; pursued the man, nettled at
+Lambert's silence; his voice was loud and offensive.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now you mention it,&quot; observed Lambert, slowly considering the
+proposition, &quot;it is.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thought so,&quot; said the man, and was at a loss what next to say, for
+Lambert had fallen into a meditative mood, and to feel for a pimple on
+his chin seemed to be of assistance to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The appearance of another person upon the scene, who halted, however,
+at a distance of a dozen yards or so, with her black eyes fixed upon
+the juror, was not noticed by any of them, except perhaps by the
+meditative detective.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Move on,&quot; said the constable whom Lambert had addressed, and some
+idlers, who had shown a disposition to linger, sauntered away. The
+juror held his ground, but was not at his ease, for he felt that
+Lambert's eye was on him, and to be thus meditatively observed by an
+imperturbable detective was enough to make any man uneasy. Presently
+Lambert roused himself from his brown study.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which direction are you going to take?&quot; he said to the Juror.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why do you want to know?&quot; asked the man.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because I will take the other, and I've a hundred things to attend
+to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who's hindering you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You, Mr. Rawdon. That's your name, I believe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm not ashamed of it,&quot; said Mr. Rawdon, with a slight start.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why should you be?&quot; remarked Lambert quietly. &quot;It's the name you were
+born to. I'm not ashamed of mine; to tell you the truth, I'm rather
+proud of it. What we've got to do with our names, whether we like 'em
+or not, is to make 'em a credit to ourselves and our families. And
+we're born, not only to names that stick to us, but to tempers that
+stick to us. Now, when I see a man showing a nasty temper, I cast
+about in my mind for something that will soothe his ruffled feelings.
+That's what I've been thinking about. 'What can I do,' says I to
+myself, 'that will soothe Mr. Rawdon's ruffled feelings?' And it's
+come over me to put it in the shape of a question, if you've no
+objection.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let's hear what it is,&quot; said Mr. Rawdon, upon whom the detective's
+words did not seem to have a soothing effect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'It's a question,&quot; continued Lambert, &quot;that I wouldn't put to you
+publicly if it wasn't that we're playing a sort of game, you and me, a
+sort of trying to tire one another out, because, you know, Mr. Rawdon,
+there's many a thing in a man's life he'd prefer to keep to himself.
+As for tiring me out, you couldn't do it, Mr. Rawdon. It's well known
+that Detective Lambert is the most patient man in the whole police
+force, and it's well known, too, that he never mixes himself up with
+other people's private affairs unless he has the best of reasons for
+it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Aren't you losing sight of your question?&quot; asked Mr. Rawdon sullenly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I'm not; I'm coming to it; but I'm naturally a slow man--slow
+<i>and</i> sure. It's happened on occasions that I've been a long time
+taking aim; but then I never miss; and I never do anything
+definite--anything definite, mind--or say anything definite (which is
+what I'm going to say now), without a motive. Now, <i>do</i> you understand
+that?&quot; No voice could be more persuasive than that in which he
+explained himself to Mr. Rawdon.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, I understand it,&quot; said that individual.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And so could a blind dog, if it was put to him forcible. It eases my
+mind; I give you my word, it eases my mind. Pay particular attention
+to the question, Mr. Rawdon: there's a lot hanging to it that the
+present company--my friend Inspector Robson and his good wife, and my
+friend Mr. Reginald Boyd and <i>his</i> good wife--haven't the slightest
+understanding of. Which makes it all the more comfortable for you and
+me, because it's between us. Are you ready, Mr. Rawdon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite ready, Mr. Lambert.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, then. What is the amount of the judgment obtained against you
+by Mr. Ezra Lynn, how much do you owe him altogether, and what
+arrangement has lately been made between you? And if that's three
+questions instead of one I hope you'll excuse me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So saying, Detective Lambert rubbed his chin, and shed a genial smile
+upon Mr. Rawdon, whose perturbation was so great that he seemed to be
+deprived of the power of speech.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If you want time to chew it over,&quot; continued Lambert, &quot;take time.
+There's been many a knotty point raised in this inquiry into the
+Catchpole Square Mystery; one or two more or less won't matter much.
+Take your time, Mr. Rawdon, take your time. Go home and chew it over.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In obedience to a motion of his eyebrows imperceptible to all but the
+constable, that official bustled forward with his &quot;Move on, please,
+move on&quot;; and as though he were glad of an excuse to set his limbs in
+motion Mr. Rawdon moved slowly away, in the opposite direction to the
+Bishop Street Police Station. The other person, little Gracie, who had
+been watching the group, moved stealthily after him, and in a moment
+or two the man and the girl had turned the corner of the street.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lambert smiled in self-approval, and the next moment became grave as
+he touched Reginald on the arm. &quot;Now, Mr. Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Florence quivered as though she had been stung, but instantly
+recovered herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am at your disposal, Mr. Lambert,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;You have a
+warrant for my arrest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have; and I'll read it to you at the Bishop Street Police Station.
+I would take you to another, but as I've already explained to the
+Inspector it is the proper station to take you to, as the charge will
+have to be heard at the Bishop Street Police Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will it be heard to-morrow?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To-morrow. It will be merely formal, and there'll be a remand, for a
+week I should say. That is what will be asked for. I am acting under
+instructions.&quot; He turned to Florence and Aunt Rob. &quot;I hope you'll not
+take it amiss, ladies. Duty's duty, and it's hard to do sometimes. Mr.
+Boyd and I will walk quietly to the station with Inspector Robson.
+I'll keep people off while you say good-bye.&quot; He turned his back to
+them, from motives of delicacy, and to serve as a screen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would there be any objection, Mr. Lambert,&quot; said Aunt Rob, &quot;to our
+walking with him as far as the station?&quot; She spoke stiffly and
+severely: despite the manifest friendliness of the detective she could
+not forgive him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None in the world, if you wish it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We do wish it,&quot; said Florence, timidly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give an arm to the ladies,&quot; said Lambert to Reginald. &quot;The Inspector
+and I will walk on behind. You would hardly believe it, but at this
+time every Thursday night I get a singing in my ears that makes me
+quite deaf. An old complaint; had it from childhood; it comes on
+suddenly; I've got it now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He fell back with Uncle Rob, and no person meeting them would have
+supposed that a man was being arrested for murder. Within two or three
+hundred yards of Bishop Street Dick ran up to them, and he saw
+immediately what was transpiring.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have come in good time, Dick,&quot; said Reginald, pressing the
+friendly hand. &quot;Florence and Aunt Rob have no one to take them home.
+You see what is going on.&quot; Dick nodded. &quot;Now that the suspense is over
+I feel relieved. I have something to face, and I can speak out
+boldly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He must have a lawyer, Dick,&quot; said Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is being attended to, aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I would have preferred to defend myself,&quot; said Reginald, &quot;but I
+suppose it would be unwise.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It would be folly,&quot; said Dick. &quot;I saw your solicitor this afternoon,
+and we have agreed upon the barrister, Mr. Edward Pallaret. He ranks
+high, and is generally on the right side.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On the just side, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is what I meant, aunt.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you expect this, that you have gone so far?&quot; she asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have been expecting it all along. Is Lambert acting on his own
+responsibility?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, under instructions, he says.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah. Do you approve of Mr. Pallaret, Reginald?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. He is an honourable man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is; and a man that judges and magistrates listen to with respect.
+That is not the case with all lawyers. There are black sheep among
+them that damn a case the moment their names appear in it. I have a
+pair of solicitors in my mind now, a couple of sharp, sneaking
+scoundrels who never yet have had the handling of a reputable case.
+Mr. Lamb is not a very eminent solicitor, but he is a respectable man,
+and it was he who suggested Mr. Pallaret. Don't be faint-hearted,
+Reginald; we'll pull you out of this with flying colours. Have any of
+you seen little Gracie Death to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No, none of them had seen her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She'll be at your house to-night, aunt, with news, perhaps. Here we
+are at the station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He made a secret motion to his uncle as they entered, and saying to
+the others that they would join them presently, he and the Inspector
+retired to a small room at the back of the office, where the latter
+kept his accoutrements, which he now proceeded to put on for the sad
+duties of the night.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you remember the talk we had together, Dick,&quot; said the Inspector
+mournfully, &quot;on the night of the fog, when Mrs. Abel Death came in
+with her little girl, and told us of the disappearance of her husband.
+We argued it out together, and the thought of a murder done was in our
+minds. It's little more than a week ago, and it seems a year. We
+didn't think it would come to this.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To Dick, also, it seemed as if months had passed instead of days, and
+as if he himself were a different being. Aimless, purposeless, then,
+with no object in life to lift him out of the lethargic state into
+which he had fallen, the hours now were all too short for the strange
+and desperate task to which he had set his hand, the strangest and
+most hazardous part of which had yet to be performed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lambert speaks fair,&quot; continued the Inspector, &quot;but you are the rock
+upon which we must lean for safety. Oh, Dick, my lad, save my Florence
+if you can from life-long misery!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm bound to do it, uncle,&quot; said Dick, &quot;or sink. Something whispers
+to me that I shall succeed. And now let me tell you--I may not have
+another opportunity. I'm going to see Florence and Aunt Rob home,
+where I've asked little Gracie to come and have a chat with me. After
+to-night it's on the cards that I shall disappear----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Disappear!&quot; cried the Inspector, catching his nephew by the arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hush! They must not hear us. I mean that neither you nor they will
+know where I am for a few days. There will be a notice stuck up on the
+house in Catchpole Square to the effect that all inquiries for me are
+to be made at your house, and that all letters for me are to be left
+there. If any inquiries are made, tell Aunt Rob and Florence that
+they're to say they are expecting me home at any moment, and don't
+know where I have gone to. Nothing more than that. I must leave this
+to you, for I cannot confide in them. I am bound to keep my secret,
+and I could not answer the questions they would put to me in their
+anxiety.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But, Dick----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick held up his hand. &quot;There isn't a step I've taken in this affair
+that hasn't been taken with only one end in view, the end we are all
+praying for, and perhaps there are things I've kept from you because
+it would never have done to tell them to a police inspector. There was
+your duty as a public officer, and there were your feelings as a
+father. Would it have been right of me to bring these into conflict?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see that, my lad, I see that, and it has been a torture to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look me in the face, uncle.&quot; He moved into the light, so that it
+could be clearly seen. &quot;Is it an honest face?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my lad.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A face you can trust?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then trust it, and act as I desire. You ask me to save Florence from
+misery, and, with God's help and my own wits, that's what I feel I
+<i>shall</i> do if I'm left free to follow out my plans. If I am hampered
+in any way Reginald will lose his best defender. I've been in danger
+once to-day, and my wits saved me. We must get back to them, or
+they'll be suspecting something. If you are satisfied with what I've
+said, uncle, give me your hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They clasped hands, and returned to the front office. Inspector Robson
+stiffened himself, and walked to his desk. Then Lambert, who held the
+warrant in his hand, read it aloud, but in a low tone, and advised
+Reginald to say nothing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not afraid to speak,&quot; Reginald answered, with a proud, defiant
+look. &quot;Until my innocence is proved I will proclaim it to all the
+world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well said, my son,&quot; said Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson did not utter a word, but with a set face entered the
+charge. Then Detective Lambert bade the Inspector good night, and
+passed out of the scene. He offered no good-bye greeting to the
+others, and seemingly took no notice of Aunt Rob's action when she
+held her skirts aside, so that he should not touch them. It was not in
+her heart to forgive him for the part he had played.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When all the formalities were concluded Florence and Reginald, clasped
+in each other's arms, exchanged tender words of comfort and hope.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God bless you, my beloved husband,&quot; said the girl-wife. &quot;He will make
+your innocence clear.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have no fears,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;God preserve you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good night, my son,&quot; said Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was not a tear in their eyes; each strove by outward calmness to
+sustain the other in this bitter trial. Inspector Robson never raised
+his eyes from the charge sheet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Take care of her, Dick,&quot; said Reginald.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Trust to me, Reginald,&quot; said Dick, with a bright smile.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So they left him, and proceeded through the dimly lighted streets to
+Aunt Rob's house, and there they found Gracie waiting outside for
+Dick.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_53" href="#div1Ref_53">GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Any news, Gracie,&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Lots,&quot; replied Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;About which one?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Both of 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Aunt Rob, with an air of determination, seized Gracie's hand. &quot;Come
+in, child, and tell us all about it,&quot; she said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie made no resistance, but looked at Dick for instructions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The fact is, aunt,&quot; he said, &quot;Gracie and I have started on a voyage
+of discovery, and this is a little matter of business between us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The fact is,&quot; said Aunt Rob, sternly, &quot;that there's been too many
+little matters of business between this one and that one, and too many
+secrets that are kept from them who have the best call to know them,
+and whose hearts are pretty nigh broken by being kept in the dark.
+It's time it came to an end. What do you mean by your voyage of
+discovery? Perhaps you think, because we're quiet and still, and don't
+break into fits of crying, that we're happy and contented with things
+as they are. We look like it, don't we?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear aunt,&quot; he expostulated, but was not allowed to proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, Dick, I'll not listen to your evasions, and I'm not going to
+stand this any longer. What is it all about, and what does everybody
+mean by holding conversations behind our backs, and saying things we
+mustn't hear, while we're expected to sit mum-chance on our chairs,
+eating our hearts away? Because we're women, I suppose, and aren't fit
+to be trusted! Mystery, mystery, mystery, nothing but mystery, and
+we're to hold our tongues. I wouldn't have believed it of you, Dick.
+Do you mean to tell me that this little matter of business, and this
+voyage of discovery, as you call it, doesn't concern us?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It does concern you, but I give you my word, aunt, I don't know yet
+in what way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let us help you. As it concerns us, you've no right to keep it from
+us. Now, child, tell us your news.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie shook her head, and still looked at Dick for her cue.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You little brick!&quot; he said, patting her sallow cheek. &quot;Aunt, if you
+were to beat her black and blue I don't believe she would say one word
+without my permission.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wouldn't,&quot; said Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a nice thing to say to me,&quot; said Aunt Rob, sarcastically. &quot;I'm
+in the habit of beating children black and blue--everybody who knows
+me knows that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Everybody who knows you knows you to be staunch, and brave, and
+true,&quot; said Dick, kissing her, &quot;and to have the kindest heart that
+ever beat in a woman's breast. You'll bear witness to that, won't you,
+Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm not to be put off with a kiss,&quot; said Aunt Rob. &quot;Let us hear what
+concerns us.&quot; The latter part of this conversation took place while
+they entered the house, and they were now in the sitting-room, with
+the gas turned up. &quot;Look at that white face.&quot; She pointed to Florence,
+who was standing tearless, with her hand at her heart. Dick's own
+heart sank at the mute misery in her face. &quot;Do what you can to relieve
+her anxiety, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let Dick act as he thinks best, mother,&quot; said Florence, but she still
+kept her hand at her heart, and Dick felt that it would be worse than
+cruel to offer any further opposition to Aunt Rob's wishes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall hear what Gracie has to tell,&quot; he said, &quot;but not a word
+must pass out of this room. There's a prologue to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He spoke of his impressions concerning Dr. Vinsen, and of his
+conviction that there was a sinister motive to Reginald's prejudice
+behind that gentleman's unsolicited kindness to Gracie's family; after
+which he related how he and Gracie had entered into partnership that
+morning to track Dr. Vinsen and the vindictive juryman down, in the
+hope of discovering something that would be of service to them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was an odd fancy of mine to call myself the captain and Gracie the
+first mate of the ship that was going on this voyage of discovery, and
+it's my opinion there will be high jinks if we succeed in bringing
+that ship to anchor. Now, mate, for your news. Have you seen Dr.
+Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, Dick, I've seen a lot of him,&quot; said Gracie, &quot;but his name ain't
+Vinsen, and he ain't a doctor.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By Jove!&quot; said Dick, under his breath. &quot;Who and what is he, Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's a money-lender, and his name is Ezra Lynn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's the first trick to us,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Begin at the beginning,
+mate, and go right through it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">She did, and did not pause till she came to that part of her story
+where Dr. Vinsen hailed a hansom cab, and drove off at too swift a
+pace for her to follow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They listened in breathless interest. Gracie's skill in the weaving of
+stories of the imagination for the entertainment of her little
+brothers and sisters served her in good stead in this story of real
+life, and, quite unconsciously to herself, she imparted a dramatic
+touch to the narrative which lifted it above the level of its sordid
+details.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Talk of your detectives!&quot; exclaimed Dick, in wonder and admiration.
+&quot;Here's a little girl that can show them the way to go. Why, the man
+could be prosecuted for practising without a diploma. But, the motive,
+the motive, the motive? We're getting hold of the ends of loose
+strings. How to tie them, how to tie them?&quot; He paced the room in his
+excitement. &quot;Is that all, Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, no, there's ever so much more. When he was gone I went back to
+the baker's shop, to see if I could find out anything more about him.
+I <i>did</i> hear a lot! Oh, Dick, he's a regular bad 'un. He's lived there
+ever so many years, and there ain't a living soul that's got a good
+word for him. I saw the man again they called a jackal, and I got his
+name and where he lives. Here it is. I bought a sheet of paper and a
+bit of pencil for a ha'penny, and I put all the names and addresses
+down, for fear I might forget 'em. Here's the man's name that's going
+to be sold up to-morrow, and here's the baker woman's name and
+address, and here's the trunk shop, and here's the number of the house
+in Park Street that he looked so long up at the windows of.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Reginald's lodgings,&quot; said Dick, looking at the paper. &quot;What do you
+think now of my first mate? Anything more, Gracie?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When I got all I could out of 'em I thought I'd come and try to find
+you, Dick, and I took a tram and two busses to Catchpole Square, but
+you weren't there. Then I came here, and you weren't here. Then I went
+back to Catchpole Square again, and who should I see but Dr. Vinsen
+going into a house in Shore Street. It's down on the paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Pye's house,&quot; explained Dick. &quot;We're getting warm.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He kept there an hour and more, but I never budged, When he came out
+he didn't look pleased, and he looked worse when he bought some more
+special editions of the papers, and read what was in 'em.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Wanted the inquest over,&quot; interposed Dick, &quot;and a verdict of wilful
+murder against Reginald. Go on, partner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was getting night, and I thought I might have a chance of catching
+the man Dr. Vinsen was talking to last night, so I went to the place
+where the inquest was held, and there I saw him. I saw you, too,
+ma'am, and the young lady, and a good many others, all talking
+together. I didn't see you, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I wasn't there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But where were you, child?&quot; asked Aunt Rob. &quot;I didn't set eyes on
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I took care you shouldn't. When this man went away--oh, what a black
+face he had, Dick!--I followed him home. He doesn't live fur off, and
+he keeps an ironmonger's shop. You'll see the name on the paper, Dick;
+it's the bottom name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see it, Gracie. P. Rawdon, ironmonger, 24, Wellington Street.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's a lot of things outside the shop window on the pavement,
+pots, and pans, and pails, under a verandah, and a boy was taking 'em
+into the shop. I sneaks up to the boy, and says, 'Is that the master?'
+'Yes,' the boy says, 'that's the guv'nor.' 'Mr. Rawdon?' I says.
+'Yes,' he says, 'Mr. Rawdon.' And with that he goes inside with his
+arms full, and I walks away, for I didn't know what else I could do,
+when up comes Dr. Vinsen again, almost at the top of me. Lucky for me
+he didn't catch sight of me. I cut across the road, and watched him go
+into the shop. I waited a little while, but it was past seven o'clock,
+and you said I was to be here before eight. That's all, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And enough,&quot; said Dick, &quot;more than enough for one day. There isn't a
+man or woman in all England who could have done as much in so short a
+time. I'm proud of you, Gracie. Now, my girl, you mustn't breathe a
+word of all this to another living soul in the world.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I won't,&quot; said Gracie, her heart swelling with pride at being
+addressed by Dick as &quot;my girl.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I begin to see light, aunt. That man, Vinsen, sham doctor and
+philanthropist, alias Ezra Lynn, real scoundrelly money-lender, and
+Dr. Pye have been hatching a plot against us, and have drawn the other
+scoundrel Rawdon into it. Light--yes, light! And there's more behind
+it that I'll get at before I'm many days older. You don't like
+secrets, aunt, but this <i>must</i> be kept from Uncle Rob. He might
+consider it his duty to make a move, and if he does we are done for.
+You can't see as well as I can what is hanging to this discovery of
+Gracie's. I pledge you both to secrecy--for Reginald's sake. We must
+keep this before us. All that we have done, all that we are doing, is
+for Reginald's sake. Promise, promise!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They were aglow with excitement, and they replied simultaneously,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We promise, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's right. We'll draw those ferrets out of their hole, and it will
+not be long before Reginald is a free man--freely and honourably
+acquitted, with every one who knows him, and every one who doesn't,
+ready and eager to shake hands with him, and give him a word of
+sympathy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Dick!&quot; said Florence, giving him both her hands.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dear Florence, dear aunt, I would go through fire and water for you.&quot;
+He turned suddenly to Gracie. &quot;What have you had to eat to-day?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A penny loaf at the baker shop,&quot; replied Gracie, who was fainting
+with hunger.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing more?&quot; cried Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, ma'am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Florence, lay the tablecloth; and you, Dick, run down to the kitchen,
+and fetch the bread and butter--and you'll find a cake in the larder.
+And bring up the kettle--I'll make the tea here. Tell the servant to
+cook four large rashers and poach half-a-dozen eggs. Draw up to the
+table child--why, you must be starving!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I'm all right, ma'am. It ain't worth while worrying about me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You dear little mite!&quot; Aunt Rob's heart was overflowing with pity,
+and she bent down and kissed her. Dick was back, loaded with a
+steaming kettle and bread and butter and cake, and though Aunt Rob was
+no fairy, the tea was made and a cup placed before Gracie, and bread
+and butter cut, as quickly as any fairy, though she were light as
+gossamer, could have accomplished it. &quot;Don't wait for us, Gracie, the
+bacon and eggs will soon be here--why, here they are! Now, my dear,
+make a good meal, and you sit down, Florence, and eat. It's easier to
+meet trouble with a full stomach than an empty one. Here's your cup,
+Dick; you look famished, too. Things look ever so much brighter, don't
+they?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And thus she rattled on to put Gracie at her ease, and under the
+influence of a spirit so buoyant and hopeful a fuller meal was eaten
+than would otherwise have been the case, and they were all the happier
+for it. Then Gracie arose, and thanking them quietly said that her
+mother would be worrying about her, and if they would excuse her she
+would like to go home. There was a grave look on Aunt Rob's face at
+mention of Gracie's mother, for she thought of Mrs. Death's conduct an
+hour or two ago at the Coroner's Court, but she said nothing except
+that Gracie ought to go home at once. She would have liked to wrap up
+what was left of the cake, and give it to the child to take to her
+little brothers and sisters, but she felt that the kindly act might be
+misconstrued, and might get Gracie into trouble.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will walk a little way with you,&quot; said Dick. &quot;Aunt Rob, I have a
+great deal to do, and I sha'n't be able to come back to-night. Get to
+bed early, you and Florence, and try to sleep. It will brighten
+Reginald up to-morrow if he sees you with cheerful faces, which you
+can't show him without proper rest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So the good nights were exchanged, and the mother and daughter were
+left alone. Before Florence went to bed she wrote a long and loving
+letter to Reginald, and Aunt Rob also wrote a letter, which Florence
+enclosed in hers; and then the young wife, so sorely tried ran out to
+post it, and kissed it passionately before she dropped it into the
+box. She and her mother were to sleep together that night, and Aunt
+Rob sent Florence up to bed first. Household duties had fallen into
+arrear in consequence of her long attendance at the Coroner's Court,
+and these must be attended to before she retired; she was not the
+woman to neglect her domestic affairs, and she knew that her husband
+would feel the happier for seeing a tidy home when he came from his
+office. She was occupied nigh upon two hours, and then there was a
+little note to be written to her husband, and laid open on the table,
+telling him that she was sleeping with Florence, and that he was to
+sleep in Dick's room. Aunt Rob was not what would be considered a very
+religious woman, but she had an underlying and unconscious religion of
+her own which she steadily practised--the religion that lies in kind
+thoughts and deeds, in upright conduct and duties conscientiously
+performed; and she was not in the habit of reading her Bible
+regularly. But this night, when all her household work was done, she
+took the Book of Consolation from the shelf, and reverently read
+therein till nearly midnight.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">During these hours of work and prayer she had not been unmindful of
+her daughter; every now and then she stepped softly up to the bedroom
+and listened at the door; she would not open it, lest the creaking
+should disturb the young girl. She stood there in the dark, and
+listened. &quot;My darling is asleep,&quot; she whispered to herself as she went
+quietly downstairs.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">For an hour and more she read in the Holy Book, and when she closed it
+a deep calm rested on her face and a look of peace in her eyes. The
+feeling that possessed her was the feeling of a woman in affliction
+who had heard the voice of God. Balm was in her heart. Truly her house
+was a house of sorrow, but it was also a house of faith and hope. Who
+shall say that the spiritual links of love that join heart to heart,
+though miles of space lie between, did not pulse with a sweet and
+tender message to the innocent man lying in his cell?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Turning down the gas in the sitting room and the passage, and placing
+her note to her husband in such a position that it would be sure to
+meet his eye when he entered, Aunt Rob stole upstairs to bed, carrying
+the candle with her. She started when she saw a white-robed form
+kneeling by the bedside. It was Florence, who had been lifting her
+heart to God, and who had fallen asleep with a prayer on her lips.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_54" href="#div1Ref_54">EXTRACTS FROM &quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; OF FRIDAY,
+THE 15TH OF MARCH, 1896.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">The intense interest taken by the public in the progress of the
+mystery of Catchpole Square was markedly shown this morning by the
+enormous concourse of people assembled in the vicinity of the Bishop
+Street Police Court, where Mr. Reginald Boyd was brought before the
+magistrate, charged with the murder of his father, Mr. Samuel Boyd, on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. In these times of fever and
+unrest, when scarcely a day passes without some new sensation cropping
+up to overshadow the sensation of yesterday and drive it from the
+minds of newspaper readers, it is rare indeed that any one startling
+incident should continue for so long a time to engross public
+attention. For this reason, if for no other, this extraordinary
+mystery will be long remembered; but, quite apart from the morbid
+curiosity which all murder cases bring into play, there are in this
+case elements of perplexity and bewilderment which entitle it to the
+first place in the annals of great crimes. It is not our purpose to
+offer any opinion as to the probable guilt of this or that person; the
+matter is now in the hands of justice, and it would be manifestly
+improper to try the case in our editorial room, but this does not
+prevent our columns being open to the discussion of abstract matters
+which may or may not have a bearing upon it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">To the disappointment of the sight-seers in the adjoining wider
+thoroughfares the accused man was driven to Bishop Street through side
+streets but little frequented, and so skilfully were the police
+arrangements carried out that he was conducted into the court by the
+rear entrance before the general public were aware that he had started
+from the station. The Court was crowded, and among those assembled
+were the wife and mother-in-law of the prisoner, who it was understood
+had had an interview with him before the commencement of the
+proceedings.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow represented the Public Prosecutor, and Mr. Pallaret
+appeared for the prisoner.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow, addressing the magistrate, stated that it was not his
+intention to do more than formally open the case, after which, without
+taking any evidence beyond proving the arrest of the prisoner, he
+should ask for a remand until that day week. The police had not yet
+concluded their preliminary investigations, and the interests of
+justice would be best served by the course he proposed to adopt.
+Having briefly narrated the circumstances which led to the accused
+being charged with so horrible a crime, he called Mr. Lambert,
+detective officer in the police service, who gave evidence of the
+arrest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;That is as far as I propose to go, your worship. I now
+ask for a remand till this day week.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;I do not oppose the remand, but I have a question or
+two to put to the witness, and a remark to make to the Court.&quot; To the
+witness: &quot;When you arrested the accused did he offer any resistance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Witness: &quot;On the contrary. Suspecting, or having heard, that I had
+a warrant for his arrest he came up to me voluntarily, and said he was
+at my disposal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He walked quietly with you to the station?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite quietly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he make any statement?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. I advised him to say nothing.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was his reply to that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He said, 'I am not afraid to speak. Until my innocence is proved I
+will proclaim it to all the world.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have no further questions to ask you.&quot; To the magistrate: &quot;The
+observation I desire to make is this. No one can be more anxious than
+the accused that the fullest light should be thrown upon this sad
+affair, and that the murderer of his father shall be brought to
+justice. He himself has offered a reward of £500 for the discovery of
+the murderer. But we enter a strong protest to any unnecessary delay
+in the disclosure of the evidence we have to combat. To arrest a man
+on a charge so serious without sufficient evidence to support it, and
+merely because the police deem it necessary that some person should be
+put on his trial, would be monstrous. I make no complaint against the
+police, but there have been occasions on which they have erred, and
+have inflicted cruel injustice upon innocent persons. There was the
+Great Porter Square case, in which a son, accused of the murder of his
+father, was brought up at the magistrate's court no fewer than seven
+times. The police had nothing against him, and he was eventually
+proved to be innocent. I trust similar tactics will not be pursued in
+the present case. To any unnecessary delay we shall offer the most
+strenuous opposition. Will bail be allowed?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;No. I have no doubt the police will do their duty.
+The case stands adjourned till this day week, at eleven in the
+morning.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_55" href="#div1Ref_55">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A man may be an easy-going man all his life, and go down to his grave
+without anything occurring to take him, as it were, out of himself, or
+to make him, either suddenly or by gradual stages, a different being
+from that which those most intimate with him believe him to be. We
+have seen this exemplified in Dick Remington, who, from an easy-going,
+irresponsible being, with no definite or serious aim in life, and with
+an apparently conspicuous lack of industry and application, has
+suddenly become an earnest, strong-minded, strong-willed man, bent
+upon a task which would tax the most astute intellect.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An experience of this nature, but in a different way, had come to
+Constable Applebee, in whose mind certain agitating visions had been
+conjured up by the appearance of the reward bills. The usually calm
+depths were stirred, and the peaceful current of his daily duties
+became convulsed. If he could earn only one of the rewards he was a
+made man, let alone the chances of promotion. The prospect was
+alluringly disturbing, and it made Constable Applebee restless and
+watchful. When a dull man gets an idea into his head it becomes a
+fixture; to argue with him is time thrown away; it is there, and he
+sticks to it, perhaps because of its novelty; and when that idea
+carries with it the prospect of a lump of money all the logicians in
+the world are powerless to remove it until the sterner logic of fact,
+proves it to be false. And even then he doubts and shakes his head.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Applebee's idea, which had created these visions of fame and a golden
+future, was that the man who had committed the murder and who had the
+jewels in his possession, was no other than Mr. Dick Remington.
+Whether he alone was the culprit, or in collusion with Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, time would show.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He kept his counsel; not even in the wife of his bosom did he confide.
+He knew that Detective Lambert had the case in hand, the great
+detective who had brought so many mysterious crimes to light. What if
+he, Applebee, could succeed in proving himself Lambert's equal and
+snatching the prize from him? The prospect of such a triumph was
+dazzling. Dick met Applebee at the entrance of Deadman's Court, and
+gave him good evening.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good evening,&quot; said Constable Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was not a man of overpowering intellect, and with this weighty
+matter in his mind he had not the wit to say good evening in his usual
+cordial manner. Dick noticed the change of tone, but attached no
+importance to it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, the duller-wilted a man is, the more suspicious he is, and while
+Dick noticed a change of manner in Applebee which really existed, and
+attached no importance to it, Applebee noticed a change of manner in
+Dick which did not exist, and to which he attached immense importance.
+&quot;He sees that I suspect him,&quot; thought Applebee, &quot;and is afraid. What
+makes him afraid? Guilty conscience. That proves it.&quot; Thus do we jump
+at conclusions when we have all the argument to ourselves.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He saw nothing more of Dick that night, and great was his chagrin the
+following day to see pasted on the door of Samuel Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square the following notice:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Absent on business. All communications for Mr. Remington to be
+addressed to Inspector Robson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's cut and run,&quot; was Applebee's first thought. His second thought
+was that this was a move on Dick's part to put him off the scent. &quot;But
+I'll be a match for him,&quot; he thought.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He's sure to come back, and the next time I lay hands on him off he
+goes with me to the station. I'll charge him, and chance it. The
+thing's as clear as mud. What a fool I was not to have seen it all
+before! Why did he keep hanging round Catchpole Square night after
+night while Samuel Boyd was laying dead in bed? Where did he go on the
+night of the great fog after I parted with him at three in the
+morning? He didn't keep in the streets all night, I'll take my oath on
+that. Where was he? Why, where else but in Samuel Boyd's house,
+packing up the things? He was clerk there once, and knows all the ins
+and outs of the place. Pond tells me he keeps his room locked, and
+that his missis is not allowed to go into it even to make the bed.
+What does he keep it shut up for? Is the property there? A search
+warrant would settle that, but as things stand there's no chance of my
+getting one. I shouldn't be surprised if he keeps the jewellery about
+him. It must be worth a heap of money. I asked Mrs. Pond this morning
+whether he slept there last night. No, he hadn't, nor the night
+before. He used to live with Inspector Robson, but he doesn't live
+there now. Then what has he been doing with himself of a night all
+this last week? I'll be hanged if I don't go to Mrs. Robson, and ask
+for him!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Screwing up his courage he presented himself at Aunt Rob's house, and
+his knock at the door was answered by that lady herself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is Mr. Dick Remington in?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, he isn't,&quot; replied Aunt Rob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you tell me where to find him, Mrs. Robson?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I can't.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will he be back soon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Applebee scratched his head; he had come to the end of his resources
+in that quarter.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you want him for anything particular?&quot; inquired Aunt Rob,
+anxiously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not for anything very particular.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Perhaps you'll leave a message.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, thank you,&quot; said Applebee, feeling as if he was being badgered,
+and repeated, &quot;It's nothing very particular.&quot; Then he walked away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They're all in a plot together,&quot; he mused. &quot;I don't half like the way
+she answered me. She never took her eyes off my face. He's gone off to
+get rid of the jewellery. I'll keep my eye on Catchpole Square.
+There's a chance of his coming back for something he left behind. If
+he does, I'll nab him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The longer he brooded upon it the stronger grew his conviction of
+Dick's complicity in the crime, and the more firmly was he resolved to
+make the arrest when he had the chance. Little did he dream of the
+kind of success that was to attend his zealous efforts and the
+startling developments which were to follow.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_56" href="#div1Ref_56">EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT
+DETECTIVE OFFICER.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Thursday, March 15th</i>, 1896.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Arrested Mr. Reginald Boyd this evening for the murder of his father,
+Mr. Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Arrest made at the door of the
+Coroner's Court. Had a little scene with Mr. Rawdon, the juryman who
+has been making all this fuss during the inquiry.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd bore his arrest very well. So did his good little
+wife, who agreeably disappointed my expectation that she would break
+down. So did not Mrs. Inspector Robson, a brick of a woman, who showed
+me very plainly what she thought of me. I may say emphatically that
+her feelings are the reverse of friendly, and from a woman of strong
+opinions it is just what might be expected. But then she doesn't know
+what is good for her; she would have to be gifted with second sight
+before she would give me a civil word just now. Poor women! I pity
+them. They will have a weary night of it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If things turn out as I anticipate this arrest will be about the
+cleverest move I have ever made. Reason why? Because I believe Mr.
+Reginald Boyd to be as innocent as I am myself.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Why arrest him, then?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the first place, because he had to be arrested, and if I had not
+done it another officer would. Indeed, it is I who am indirectly
+responsible for the issuing of the warrant. More correct, perhaps, to
+say for expediting its issue. I could name half-a-dozen men who were
+burning to make the arrest. They would have to rise very early to get
+ahead of me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the second place, because I wasn't sorry to be able to do Inspector
+Robson a good turn. A queer way of setting about it, he would say. But
+it's true, for all that. And it's as good a thing as could have
+happened to the young fellow.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the third place, because, had the arrest not been made by me, I
+should have no excuse for interviewing Dr. Pye. I hope to have
+something to tell my French brother-in arms, Joseph Pitou, that will
+astonish his weak nerves. He writes to me from Milan, where he is
+making inquiries, he says. Is sorry he can't come over to London, he
+says. I am not. I don't want him yet awhile. Keep away, friend Joseph,
+keep away, till I send for you. There's plenty to puzzle over in this
+Catchpole Square Mystery without having the other mystery of Louis
+Lorenz piled on the top of it--that's what most men would think. I'm
+not one of them. It needs something big in the way of sensation to
+wake people up in this year of grace. If all turns out well, they'll
+get it. Besides take Louis Lorenz out of the case, and what becomes of
+Dr. Pye?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dick Remington has a plan of operations already cut and dried--I'll
+take my oath of that. It's humiliating to have to confess that I
+haven't a notion what it is. Never mind. I'll back what I know against
+what he knows, and we'll see who'll get to the winning post first. If
+I had a leisure hour I'd ferret out the connection between him and
+that old fence Higgins; as it is, I haven't a leisure minute.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Let me see. What have I to do to-morrow? First, the magistrate's
+court, to give evidence of the arrest. Shall have to remain till the
+remand's granted. There is sure to be a sharp lawyer on the other
+side. If they're wise they will engage one of the highest standing.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I don't expect to be free till two or three o'clock, and then I must
+see if I can hunt up the case of Louis Lorenz. There was a description
+of the man in the papers, but I doubt if I shall be able to lay hands
+on it, as there was no suspicion of the man coming our way. Then there
+was a report that he was found dead in a wood in Gallicia, shot
+through the heart. It was in Gallicia he was tried and condemned to
+death, and three days afterwards escaped from gaol. Some said he
+bribed the gaolers. The property was never traced. Friend Joseph Pitou
+promises to send a portrait of him, and full personal particulars.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At eight o'clock I present myself at Dr. Pye's house in Shore Street,
+and send in my card. A welcome visitor? Not much of an open question
+that. Then will commence the tug of war. Strange that I have never set
+eyes on him. I was not in the Coroner's Court when he gave evidence.
+Very good of him to come forward, wasn't it, to drive a nail in Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's coffin.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One o'clock. I must get to bed.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Friday, March 16th</i>, 1896.</p>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">A busy day. I must set things down, or they will get muddled. Nothing
+like system. Order is nature's first law. It is also mine.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By the first post a letter from friend Joseph. I passed it across the
+table to my wife to translate. She shook her head. &quot;Why,&quot; I said, &quot;you
+translated his other letters.&quot; &quot;They were in French,&quot; she replied;
+&quot;this is in Italian. I don't understand Italian.&quot; And there the
+rubbish lay on my table, and me staring helplessly at it, exasperating
+me to that degree----!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Wasn't it enough to put a man out? What the devil does Joseph Pitou
+mean by writing to me in all the languages under the sun? English is
+good enough for me; isn't French good enough for him? Does it to crow
+over me, I dare say, to show how superior the foreign detective
+service is to ours. But I think we could teach you a trick or two,
+friend Joseph. Off went a telegram to him in French (written, of
+course, by my wife), requesting him to send me that letter again in
+his own native language. And though it is now eleven o'clock at night
+there is no reply. Do you call that business, Joseph Pitou? And where
+is the portrait you promised to send?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There is a word in the letter that my wife says means patience. It is
+repeated three times. Friend Joseph, no one knows the value of
+patience better than David Lambert; he has exercised it to good
+purpose in times gone by. But when a man that you would take your oath
+is innocent is in a prison cell on a charge of murder it isn't easy to
+exercise it, especially when you get letters written in foreign
+languages.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Reginald Boyd's people have engaged the soundest and best counsel
+in London in a case of this kind--Mr. Pallaret. None of your bullies
+or cockchafers, but a man that knows the law and will stand no
+nonsense, and a man that the bench listens to with respect. They could
+not have done better, and he made it pretty plain that he did not mean
+to allow this case to drag on at the pleasure of the police. They were
+all in the magistrate's court, Inspector Robson and his wife, and Mrs.
+Reginald Boyd, and, of course, the prisoner. Upon my word, it looks
+like injustice to set the word against him, believing what I believe,
+and knowing all the time that the case of the prosecution is as weak
+as water. I did not give them a glance, but I felt Mrs. Robson's eye
+upon me, and I was downright sorry for them. However, it was soon
+over. Remanded for a week. That gives us breathing time, but to the
+devil with your patience, friend Joseph.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I make a mistake when I say they were all there. Dick Remington was
+absent, and it rather surprised me. So when I left the court I made my
+way to Catchpole Square, just to give him the time of day and see how
+he took it. There I met with another surprise. On the door of Samuel
+Boyd's house is a written notice, saying that Dick Remington is absent
+on business, and that all communications for him are to be addressed
+to Inspector Robson.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Now, what is the meaning of that? On my way to Dr. Pye's to-night I
+met Constable Applebee, on night duty there. When I see there's
+something on a man's mind that's as likely as not to be of service to
+me if I can get at it, I encourage that man to talk. I saw there was
+something on Applebee's mind--you can see through him with half an
+eye--and I encouraged <i>him</i> to talk. Glad enough he was, and willing
+enough. And what do you think he asked me? Why, if I knew where Dick
+Remington was hanging out? &quot;In Catchpole Square, of course,&quot; I
+answered, quite innocently. &quot;That he isn't,&quot; said Applebee, as
+triumphantly as if we were playing a hand at cards and he had won a
+trick by fine play. &quot;There's a notice pasted on the door that he's not
+to be found there; he's gone away on business it says.&quot; &quot;Well,&quot; said
+I, &quot;if he's not to be found in Catchpole Square you'll find him at
+Inspector Robson's house.&quot; &quot;No, I sha'n't,&quot; he answered, thinking he'd
+scored another trick. &quot;I've been there, and from what Mrs. Robson said
+it's my belief she doesn't know where he is.&quot; &quot;That's singular,&quot; I
+said, &quot;what do <i>you</i> make of it?&quot; &quot;What do you make of it, Mr.
+Lambert?&quot; he asked. I considered a moment, and then said I gave it up.
+&quot;But <i>you've</i> an opinion,&quot; said I, insinuatingly. &quot;Let's have it.&quot;
+Upon which he volunteered his conviction that Dick Remington had cut
+and run. &quot;Why should he cut and run?&quot; I asked, as innocent as any
+baby. &quot;That,&quot; he answered, solemnly shutting himself up, &quot;I must keep
+to myself.&quot; I laughed in my sleeve. <i>He</i> wants to discover the
+murderer of Samuel Boyd, and collar the reward, and he has come to the
+conclusion that Dick Remington's the man. It's comic. I give you my
+word, it's comic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But I ask again, what is the meaning of Remington's disappearance? It
+means something. What? Is he hunting for the tiger, and has he got a
+clue? It seems to me that I mustn't lose time. That £500 belongs to
+me, and I intend to have it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At eight o'clock I knocked at Dr. Pye's door, and a young woman opened
+it, a fine upstanding animal from the country. &quot;Norfolk,&quot; said I to
+myself when she asked me what I wanted in the sing-song voice peculiar
+to the county. &quot;I want to see Dr. Pye,&quot; I said. &quot;Not at home,&quot; she
+answered, without a moment's hesitation. &quot;I think he is,&quot; I said. She
+stared at me helplessly. &quot;That is the answer you've been told to
+give,&quot; I said. &quot;Yes,&quot; she said. &quot;To every one?&quot; I asked. &quot;Yes,&quot; she
+said. I slipped my card and a sixpence into her hand. &quot;Put the
+sixpence in your pocket,&quot; I said, &quot;and take my card up to Dr. Pye.&quot;
+Willing as she was to pocket the sixpence I think she would have shut
+the door in my face if I had left it free, but one leg was inside and
+one out. &quot;You will get in trouble if you don't do as I tell you,&quot; I
+said. &quot;I am an officer of the law--a policeman.&quot; I knew the magic
+there was in the word to a Norfolk village girl. &quot;Take the card this
+instant to Dr. Pye,&quot; I said, in a tone of authority. She vanished, and
+I waited five minutes by my watch before she came down again. &quot;You can
+come up,&quot; she said, and I noticed that she had been crying. We went
+upstairs together, and she opened a door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A man was standing at a table, holding a glass containing a liquid up
+to the gas light. Two other glasses containing liquid were on the
+table; the glasses were long and thin, and the liquid of different
+colours. With the exception of these glasses, the table, and two
+wooden chairs, the room was bare of furniture. The mantelshelf had not
+an article upon it, there was not a picture on the walls. The house is
+double-fronted, and must contain a great many rooms; the one I was in
+faced Shore Street; there was a shutter to the window, partly closed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Pye?&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am Dr. Pye,&quot; he answered. &quot;Do not interrupt me; I am making an
+experiment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I stood still and silent, and waited.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">From inquiries I have made no person in the neighbourhood is more than
+casually acquainted with Dr. Pye. He has a reputation as a scientific
+man, but I have been unable to ascertain on what precise grounds. It
+is supposed that he is always experimenting with chemicals and gases,
+and ignorant people go as far as to declare that he is searching for
+the elixir of life. He is not on visiting terms with any of his
+neighbours; all that is known and said of him is hearsay.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A remarkable looking man. There is a stoop in his shoulders, and at
+the first glance he gives one the impression that he has passed all
+his life in study. His eyes are the colour of steel, and I should
+judge him to be possessed of great mesmeric power. His voice is slow
+and deliberate; his manners, also. A man less given to impulsive
+action I never gazed upon. I must not omit to mention that his hair is
+iron gray, and his face clean shaven.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Holding one glass in his left hand he lifted another with his right,
+and mixed the liquids. Then he placed the glasses on the table, and
+fixed his eyes upon them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had not once looked steadily at me, but I recognised in his actions
+a magnetic power which, had I been a man of weak nerve, would have
+compelled me to follow the result of this experiment with an interest
+as keen as his own appeared to be, and to the exclusion of every other
+subject. To put it more plainly, he would, in a manner of speaking,
+have emptied my mind of its own thoughts and replaced them with his.
+This is what did <i>not</i> occur. I followed the experiment with simple
+curiosity.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">After a silence which lasted two or three minutes he lifted his eyes
+from the glasses, and they met mine. I smiled and nodded at him. He
+did not return my salutation, and there was no change in his gray
+face.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the matter of expression I never met a man who seemed so utterly
+devoid of it as Dr. Pye. His features might have been carved in wood,
+his eyes might have been steel balls, for all the indication they gave
+of what was passing in his mind. When you have any business on hand
+with a man of that kind, beware. I had no need of the warning, having
+all my wits about me, and having come prepared for possible squalls;
+and whatever were my feelings regarding Dr. Pye, admiration was
+certainly one of them. The prospect of a battle royal with such an
+antagonist exhilarated me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">We continued to gaze at each other for a few moments, and I was
+careful not to change my expression. That he was disappointed in my
+manner I did not doubt; I was not exactly the kind of man he would
+have liked me to be. My mind was my own; he had no power over it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Presently he turned his attention again to the glasses on the table,
+timing with his watch some expected change in the liquids he had
+mixed. If he was the party I was searching for I needed to look to my
+safety, so, though I showed no fear, and felt none, I did not move
+from the spot upon which I had taken my stand on entering the room.
+The handle of the door was within reach of my hand, so was my pretty
+little revolver, which I can hold in my palm without anyone being the
+wiser.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Opening a cupboard which, in my swift observation of it, contained
+nothing but a few sticks and glasses, he took a slender cane from a
+shelf, and stirred up the liquid. As he did so it burst gradually into
+flame, in which shone all the colours of the rainbow. Tiny streams of
+fire ascended fountainlike into the air, and dropped back into the
+glass; it burnt, I should say, for the space of three minutes, the
+colours all the time glowing and changing. In a small way I have
+seldom seen anything prettier. At first I was inclined to regard this
+little performance as a kind of hanky-panky, but I soon corrected
+myself, for any person less resembling a vulgar showman than Dr. Pye
+it would be difficult to find.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The coruscations of colour died away, the spiral threads of fire had
+spent themselves, the liquid had disappeared, and at the bottom of the
+glass was a small sediment, which Dr. Pye carefully emptied into a
+piece of white satin tissue paper, which he carefully folded and put
+into his pocket. Then he spoke.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I gave the maid instructions that no person was to be admitted to see
+me, as I was engaged upon an exceedingly delicate experiment which it
+has taken me some days to prepare.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I hope it has been successful,&quot; I said, politely.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot tell,&quot; he answered. &quot;The small modicum of powder I have
+collected is in its present state valueless except as a destroyer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;As a destroyer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. The minutest portion of it dissolved in a glass of water is
+sudden death. But these are matters in which you cannot be expected to
+take an interest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pardon me, doctor. To all men of intelligence such matters are of the
+deepest interest&quot;--I was proceeding when he waved the subject away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not of my scientific experiments you have come to speak. I see
+by your card&quot;--he referred to it--&quot;that you are a detective officer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My name is tolerably well known,&quot; I said, and he stopped me again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To members of the criminal classes, no doubt. I am behind the age, I
+am afraid.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If he thought to mortify me by implying that he had never heard of me
+he did not succeed. &quot;It is known to others outside those classes. You
+have read my evidence in the case?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In what case?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The Catchpole Square case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; he said, &quot;such cases have no attraction for me. I used to take
+in the daily newspapers, but I found that they distracted my attention
+from my pursuits, so now I read only scientific papers.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you gave evidence at the inquest, doctor!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know I did. A friend mentioned the matter to me, spoke of incidents
+connected with it, and said that the murder must have taken place on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. I recollected that I was up
+late that night, and that, as I stood at my window at three in the
+morning, some unusual movement in the Square forced itself upon my
+attention; I recollected that I had used an insignificant little
+invention of mine, a new kind of flash-light, to ascertain precisely
+the details of the movement. I spoke of this to my friend, who said it
+was my duty to come forward and relate what had come under my
+observation. In consequence of that remark I tendered my evidence, and
+was glad to be rid of the affair.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you are not rid of it, doctor,&quot; I said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you not heard that Mr. Reginald Boyd has been arrested for the
+murder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I have not seen a newspaper this week, and you are the first
+visitor I have had. The young man has been arrested, has he? I trust
+he will be able to clear himself. When did the arrest take place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yesterday evening. I made it. It is news to you, then, that he was
+brought before the magistrate this morning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, it is quite new to me. What was the result?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is remanded for a week. It takes some time to get up a case of
+this kind, and when we take one in hand we don't like to be beaten.
+I've had to do with many, Dr. Pye, and I've never been beaten yet. I
+don't mean to be beaten now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was the faintest show of interest on his countenance. &quot;Do you
+believe, in the young man's guilt, Mr. Lambert?&quot; he asked.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; I answered. &quot;Don't you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is it possible for me to have an opinion?&quot; he said, and I looked
+upon it as an astonishing remark for him to make after the evidence he
+had given at the inquest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But you saw him leave the house on the night of the murder, doctor,
+and under most suspicious circumstances, as if he were mortally afraid
+of being caught. Is not that enough to base an opinion upon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must be just, Mr. Lambert. When my eyes fell upon Mr. Reginald Boyd
+in the Court I was startled by the resemblance he bore to the man I
+saw in the Square. If attention had not been called to my feeling of
+astonishment, which I suppose was expressed in my face, I am not sure
+whether I should have spoken of the resemblance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But consider, doctor. You came forward in the interests of justice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Undoubtedly.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of your own accord. Without being summoned.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would it have been in the interests of justice that you should
+conceal this startling resemblance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a fair question. It would not. But still I say I might have
+reflected upon the matter before I gave my suspicion tongue.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You would have left the Court without revealing the secret?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Secret!&quot; he exclaimed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, it was a matter known only to yourself. May we not call such a
+knowledge a secret?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You argue skilfully, and have drawn me into a conversation which I
+would have perferred to avoid. My time is valuable, Mr. Lambert.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So is mine, Dr. Pye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a pause; each was waiting for the other to speak, and I was
+determined he should be the first.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;May I inquire,&quot; he said, &quot;your reason for evincing so extraordinary
+an interest in this affair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Here was an opportunity for a bit of acting; I took advantage of it.
+Leaning forward I said in my most serious tone, &quot;Dr. Pye, my
+reputation is at stake. It is a dangerous admission to make, but we
+are closeted together in confidence, and may say anything to each
+other without fear. No one can hear us&quot;--(I was not so sure of that,
+but it suited my purpose to say it)--&quot;and if either of us were called
+upon to give an account of our interview--though there is nothing more
+unlikely--we might say what we pleased, invent what we pleased, put
+into each other's mouth anything we pleased. That is the advantage of
+speaking without witnesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are very frank,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It pays me to be so. I repeat, my reputation is at stake. I have
+arrested a man for murder, and I am bound to prove him guilty. There
+are jealousies in all professions; there are jealousies in mine. I am
+surrounded by men who envy me, and who would like to step in my shoes.
+They would clap their hands in delight if I let the man I arrested
+slip through my fingers. Well, I don't intend to give them this
+satisfaction. My present visit to you is partly private, partly
+professional. Of course, if you say to me, 'Mr. Lambert, I decline to
+have anything to do with your private feelings,' the only thing open
+to me would be to keep those private feelings to myself, and to treat
+you, professionally, as a witness who was not disposed to assist me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Justice must not be thwarted,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Exactly. You hit the nail on the head. May we continue the
+conversation on the lines that will suit you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, continue,&quot; he said; &quot;it is rather novel to me, and I will
+endeavour to work up an interest in a matter so entirely foreign to
+me. You see,&quot; he added, and I was not sure whether he intended to be
+humorous or serious, &quot;there is nothing scientific in it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not in a strict sense, perhaps, but, allowing a latitude, there is
+something scientific in the methods we detectives pursue. The piecing
+together of the loose bits of evidence which we hunt up, a bit here, a
+bit there, arguing upon it, drawing conclusions from it, rejecting
+what will not fit, filling up the empty spaces, until we present
+the whole case without a crack in it for a guilty man to slip
+through--that is what we call circumstantial evidence, and it is
+really a science, doctor. Where did we break off? I was contending
+that it would have been wrong for you to have left the Court without
+speaking of the startling resemblance between Mr. Reginald Boyd and
+the man you saw coming from his father's house in the middle of the
+night. It would have been worse than wrong, it would have been
+criminal. Now, doctor, a man of your penetration could not be
+mistaken. He says he was home and in bed at the time, but it is
+impossible for him to prove it. And why? Because there is not a shadow
+of doubt that he was the man you saw. There must be no wavering in
+your evidence on this point; the crime must be brought home to him; he
+must not escape. Doctor Pye, you must let no feeling of compassion
+prevent you from stating the honest truth. You see what is at stake in
+this matter.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I may say, without vanity, that I was playing my cards well, and if I
+did not laugh in his face--which would have been foolish, though I
+could have done so with much enjoyment--I am entitled to my laugh at
+the recollection of the scene.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your reputation is at stake,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't deny it; and the ends of justice; a much more important thing
+to a gentleman of your position.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Am I to infer that my presence will be necessary in a criminal
+court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It cannot be dispensed with. You will be served with a notice to
+appear as a witness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Next Friday at the Bishop Street Police Court. There is a clever
+lawyer against us, Mr. Pallaret, and my instructions are to make the
+case in its initial stages as strong as possible, for he will exert
+all his powers to break it down.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I must appear, I suppose,&quot; he said.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And you will maintain that Mr. Reginald Boyd is the man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, to the best of my knowledge and belief.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Pallaret is a skilful cross-examiner.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will be prepared for him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will endeavour to throw discredit upon your statement.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was just the suspicion of a smile on his lips as he said, &quot;Let
+him try.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be the more necessary for you to be firm, doctor,&quot; I said,
+and I was curious to see whether he would fall into the trap, &quot;because
+Mrs. Death's evidence as to the time you saw Mr. Reginald Boyd come
+out of the house is in direct contradiction to yours.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I know.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She says she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three
+when she was in the Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She is mistaken. She might easily be, alarmed as she was for the
+safety of her husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had fallen into the trap. Here was a man who had stated that I was
+the first visitor he had had this week, and that he had not seen a
+newspaper, acknowledging in his last replies to me that he was
+acquainted with the evidence Mrs. Death had given in the Coroner's
+Court yesterday. If it occurred to him that he had contradicted
+himself he did not gather from me that I was aware of it. I rose to
+go, and kept my face to him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will wish you good night, doctor,&quot; I said, and then I lingered. &quot;By
+the way, might I see that clever little device of yours for throwing
+light to a distance?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry I cannot show it to you,&quot; he replied. &quot;It is being
+repaired. Good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He was anxious to be rid of me, but I still lingered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is from the back windows of your house, doctor, that you can see
+into Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; he replied, and his voice was not cordial; but that I judge it
+seldom is. I mean, that it was more guarded.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Would you mind showing me the window you looked out of when you saw
+Mr. Reginald Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot show you the room to-night. It is used as a sleeping
+apartment by one of the females in the house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I beg your pardon; but I should like to see it before next Friday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There will be no difficulty. Good night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good night,&quot; I said again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He accompanied me to the street door, inviting me by a motion of his
+hand to precede him down the stairs. I would not be so impolite. I
+insisted upon his going first, and I followed him, with my right hand
+in the pocket containing my little revolver. Our last salutations
+exchanged, he shut the street door upon me.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">I walked to the end of the street, and then, on the opposite side of
+the road, slowly retraced my steps till I was within twenty yards or
+so of the house, and waited till Constable Applebee came round on his
+beat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will remain here,&quot; I said to him, &quot;and keep Dr. Pye's house under
+observation, without drawing attention upon yourself, till I return. I
+shall be back in less than half an hour. Report to me if any person
+enters or leaves the house during my absence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When I returned it was in the company of an officer in plain clothes,
+whom I had instructed to keep watch on the house until I sent another
+man to relieve him. Applebee reported that Dr. Pye's street door had
+not been opened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Well, the train is laid. When it is fired, if friend Joseph Pitou is
+not following a will-o'-the-wisp, there will be a rare explosion. Even
+if he is, I think I can promise one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">What annoys me is, that I have been unable to get the particulars of
+the case of Louis Lorenz.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A postman's knock at the door! The telegram!</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Yes, here it is: &quot;Letter, in French, to-morrow. Pitou.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LVII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_57" href="#div1Ref_57">DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">On Monday morning Detective Lambert, as recorded in his diary,
+received Joseph Pitou's letter from Milan--this time written in
+French, which, being duly translated by Mrs. Lambert, caused the
+English detective profound astonishment and delight. It was in keeping
+with the literary methods he pursued that he did not insert the letter
+in his diary, and gave no intelligible account of its contents.
+Neither would it have been in accordance with his methods to have
+omitted mysterious reference to it:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Letter from Joseph Pitou, commencing, 'My Very Dear and Very
+Illustrious Compatriot and Brother-in-arms,' which I look upon as
+foreign bunkum. I don't object to the 'illustrious,' but we English
+would have put it differently.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If I were not so closely mixed up with the Catchpole Square Mystery I
+should regard friend Joseph's letter as being copied out of a romance.
+It reads like romance. But it isn't; it is a chapter, or several
+chapters, out of real life. It is a feather in one's cap to be
+connected with such a character--not friend Joseph, but the game we
+are hunting. Big game. The idea of coming face to face with it is
+enough to scare a timid man, but that kind of risk doesn't scare an
+Englishman. I won't do friend Joseph the injustice to say it might
+scare him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He sends me the portrait of Louis Lorenz. The mischief of it is that
+Lorenz's face is covered with hair--a fine crop which in the present
+instance, I do not admire. When a criminal is condemned to death in
+Gallicia don't they shave him? A felon loses his rights as a citizen,
+and his moustachios and whiskers are the property of the State.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My man is clean shaven, but the blue shade on his chin and cheeks
+show that he has a fine stiff crop of his own. So have hundreds of
+thousands of other men. Still it is a link, though not a strong one.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The point of resemblance is in the forehead and eyes. I took as clear
+a view as possible of his face, and I did not fail to observe that,
+whether by accident or design, he sat with his back to the light.
+True, he did not shift his chair to place himself in that position,
+but for all that I decide it was design and not accident. He seldom
+raised his eyes; when he did he found me ready for him. Now, if it had
+been Applebee who sat opposite him----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">And here, presumably, Lambert broke off to indulge in a laugh.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Near midnight on the same day he continued his diary, but there was no
+reference to Joseph Pitou or Louis Lorenz.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At three o'clock called on Dr. Pye. An old woman opened the door.
+'Dr. Pye at home?' I asked. 'Not at home,' she answered. 'Take my card
+up to him,' I said. 'Not at home,' she repeated, and jammed my leg in
+the door. I remonstrated. 'Take your leg away,' she said. Seeing
+that she was determined, and having no authority to enter the house, I
+took my leg away, and she slammed the door in my face. Faithful
+creature--and well paid for her services, I'll swear. Told the lie
+with a face of brass, for a lie it was. Dr. Pye was at home. Where is
+my maid from Norfolk? She was seen to leave the house on Saturday
+morning. Cab at the door. Small japanned box brought out, containing
+her wardrobe. Cab drove off with box on the roof and my Norfolk maid
+inside. I ought to have had more than one man on the watch, for then I
+should have known where the cab drove to. Most probably to a railway
+station, to take my maid to her native village. Norfolk has many
+villages. Why was Dr. Pye so anxious to be rid of her? Answer--because
+she did not slam the door in my face, as the old woman did.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;With the exception of two visits from Mr. Ezra Lynn (from the
+description given of the man there could be no mistake it was he)
+there has been nothing discovered. These visits were made on Saturday
+night and last night. On each occasion he came at eight o'clock. On
+Saturday night he remained two hours, last night he remained three.
+Dr. Pye has not been seen to leave the house. From the tradesmen who
+call there nothing has been learned. The establishment is carried on
+on ready money lines. Everything sent home is paid for at the
+servants' entrance. As a ready money customer Dr. Pye bears a good
+name in the neighbourhood.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was not content with one visit to Dr. Pye to-day. At five o'clock I
+presented myself again--on official business. The same old woman
+opened the door. 'Dr. Pye at home?' 'Not at home.' 'I must see him.'
+'Not at home.' There was no chance of my putting my leg inside; the
+door was on the chain. 'I serve this notice upon him,' I said,
+thrusting the paper into the old woman's hand. 'It is an order for him
+to appear as a witness at the Bishop Street Police Court next Friday
+morning, the 22nd of March, at eleven o'clock, to give evidence in the
+case of the murder of Samuel Boyd.' The woman took the notice, and
+left me alone once more on the wrong side of the door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have treated Mr. Rawdon, the contentious juryman, to a sight of me
+on three separate occasions. Not a word have I addressed to him; I
+have simply given him to understand in a silent manner that he is
+under observation. He does understand it, and does not appear to be
+very comfortable.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where is Mr. Dick Remington? He has not been seen by any of my people
+since Thursday last. Has he been spirited away? Is there any
+connection between his disappearance and the disappearance of Abel
+Death? To both questions I answer, no. The notice of his absence still
+remains on the house in Catchpole Square. Applebee informs me that the
+door of that house has not been opened from the day the notice was
+posted on it. He is keeping close watch upon the house, and I am
+keeping close watch upon him. When he makes a move, or discovers
+anything, I shall be at hand. Things can't remain in this quiet state
+much longer. Some time this week there will be a flare up. Don't you
+think so?&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LVIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_58" href="#div1Ref_58">THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">While Detective Lambert was making these entries, events of which he
+had no suspicion were progressing in another quarter. Some premonition
+of startling incidents soon to happen must have been very strong
+within him, or he would not have been out of bed a couple of hours
+after midnight, prowling, in a safe disguise, in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square and Shore Street. Constable Applebee came across him
+twice without recognising him, although Lambert gave him every
+opportunity, asking him on both occasions the way to Holborn. Lambert
+apparently was the worse for drink, and Applebee would probably have
+had more to say to him, and might indeed have &quot;run him in&quot; as a
+suspicious character had it not been for the interest he took in the
+immediate neighbourhood of Samuel Boyd's house, to which particular
+spot he devoted more attention than was consistent with his duties on
+the space of ground covered by his beat. The second time Lambert asked
+him the way to Holborn, the constable proffered a sensible piece of
+advice, to the effect that the man would be better in bed, to which he
+was advised to go if he did not wish to get into trouble. &quot;Is that
+your advice?&quot; asked Lambert, with a tipsy lurch. &quot;Yes, it is,&quot; replied
+Applebee, &quot;and if you're not a born fool you'll take it.&quot; &quot;I'd have
+you know,&quot; retorted Lambert, &quot;that I'm a respectable mechanic, and my
+advice to you is not to be so cocky. I'd make as good a bobby as you
+any day in the week.&quot; This angered Applebee, but did not move him to
+retaliatory action, and Lambert walked off, laughing in his sleeve.
+His light mood did not last long. Dark clouds were coming into the
+sky; a few drops of rain fell. There was a flash of lightning and a
+clap of thunder. &quot;We shall have a storm,&quot; he muttered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At that very moment Dr. Vinsen and Dr. Pye were closeted together, and
+events were approaching a climax. On the afternoon of that day Dr. Pye
+had received a note from his friend, announcing that he intended to
+pay him a visit at midnight. It was a strange hour to choose for a
+friendly call, and Dr. Pye was not pleased, but these men were in a
+certain sense dependent upon each other, and neither could just now
+afford to open up a quarrel; therefore, when Dr. Vinsen's summons at
+the street door was heard by Dr. Pye he went down himself and admitted
+his visitor. The interview was held at the back of the house, in the
+room with shuttered windows, from which a view of Samuel Boyd's house
+could be obtained.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is a dangerous time for a visit,&quot; were Dr. Pye's first words.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By daylight,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, &quot;the danger would be greater. I took
+care to see, before I knocked, that there was no person in the street.
+Besides, I trust you as little as you trust me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have a reason for the remark,&quot; observed Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have, or I should not have made it. But let us be amicable--be
+a-mi-ca-ble. I am willing to converse in a spirit of confidence. You
+have wounded me by your suspicions, and you have a design which you
+are hiding from me--from me, your best friend. Has your spectre
+appeared again?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An hour ago I saw it at the window.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen looked at his host incredulously. Dr. Pye placed a portrait
+before him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I took this negative last night; I developed it this morning. Do you
+recognise it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen's face grew pale as he gazed at the portrait of Samuel
+Boyd.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you mad?&quot; he asked, &quot;or am I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do not be alarmed,&quot; said Dr. Pye, calmly; &quot;the man is not there. It
+is the picture of a vision, and is one step farther in our knowledge
+of the power of the human will. When I received your letter this
+afternoon I determined that I would search the house to-night in your
+company; or, if you prefer it, I will search alone.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No; it shall be in my company. I am not afraid of ghosts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye smiled scornfully.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You turned white at the sight of the picture.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A momentary discomposure, nothing more. I do not deny that I have not
+your iron nerve. I am very human, my friend;--ve-ry hu-man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Drop the mask,&quot; said Dr. Pye, sternly. &quot;I am sick of your whining.
+Will you have some wine?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Something stronger than wine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To fortify yourself for a meeting with our spectre?&quot; Dr. Pye laughed
+in derision, and produced a decanter of brandy, to which his visitor
+helped himself liberally. From the bottom of a cupboard he took a
+cobwebbed bottle of wine, which he handled and opened very carefully.
+He smiled as he held the glass up to the light, and then drank it
+slowly, as if it were really the elixir of life which popular rumour
+credited him with searching for. &quot;I would give much,&quot; he said, &quot;for
+that store of old wine which Samuel Boyd left behind him. Had it not
+been for you I would have had every bottle in this house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And so risked discovery,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen. &quot;As it was you courted
+danger by taking two bottles to gratify your insane tastes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have courted greater dangers and escaped them. You are too
+cautious, my friend. All my life I have found safety in boldness. You
+accuse me of withholding from your knowledge a design which I have in
+view. What design?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In good time, my very dear friend. There are other matters first.
+Before we go into them, a question. Does your patient remain in the
+same state?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is no change in him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He will disclose nothing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His mind is a blank.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the result of your fine plan,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with a sneer.
+&quot;Perhaps you will acknowledge that my plan was the best--to silence
+him and leave him in the cellar.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I acknowledge nothing. The reasonable presumption was that he could
+have given us a clue. Time enough then to have silenced him. As it
+happens he has failed to be of service to us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How will you dispose of him now without drawing suspicion upon you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Upon us, you mean.&quot; Dr. Vinsen shifted uneasily upon his seat. &quot;I
+will find a way, and you shall share the risk.&quot; He smiled as he added,
+&quot;I will insure your safety for a small premium, so we will not waste
+time in recrimination. Come to the 'other matters' you have referred
+to, and of which I am as yet in ignorance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not quite in ignorance, my friend. Surely I have prepared you, surely
+I have been patient. I decline to be placed in a false light.&quot; He took
+out a pocketbook and laid it on the table, guarding it with his hand.
+&quot;I have a conscience; I must justify myself even in your eyes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it worth while to make the attempt?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think so; I really think so. I must lay my head upon my pillow with
+my mind at ease--my mind at ease. You, with your lofty notions and
+your wild search for the unattainable, you with your spectres and
+visions, know little of the sufferings of a sensitive spirit such as
+mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Faugh! Is <i>this</i> worth while?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have your ways, I have mine,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with a sly smile.
+&quot;I must trouble you to listen while I go over the ground.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So be it. And if my suspicions are correct--and they generally are--I
+may trouble <i>you</i> to listen while <i>I</i> go over the ground.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be a pleasure. I think it is three years since you and I
+became acquainted. Correct me if I am wrong.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is immaterial. Say three years--or thirty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, my friend; let us be exact. This is an affair of figures. It is
+three years since you wrote to me in acknowledgment of a circular you
+received from me. I had money to lend, you required a loan. I advanced
+you five hundred pounds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Four.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Five, my friend, five. The odd hundred was deducted as payment of
+interest in advance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Part payment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have an excellent memory. I need not go into the details. In the
+course of a few months you required more money and I advanced it to
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Spare me the details of each transaction. Come to the point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will. Up to the present day you have had from me, in various sums,
+at various times, a total of three thousand pounds----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In actual money, not half that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which, with interest added,&quot; continued Dr. Vinsen, alias Ezra Lynn,
+not troubling himself to argue the point, &quot;amounts now to a trifle
+over five thousand pounds. Will you oblige me by looking over these
+figures and verifying them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I will take your word that they are correct, according to your
+reckoning.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank you for your confidence,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, who did not,
+however, seem to appreciate this indifference. &quot;It is not to be
+supposed that I advanced my hard-earned capital without some sort of
+security. You gave it to me in the shape of a bill of sale over these
+art treasures of yours, for which you have an absurd passion, and
+which I do not deny have a marketable value, and over every piece of
+portable property in this house. From time to time I have urged you to
+discharge the debt, wholly or in part, and my appeals have been
+disregarded. My dear friend, there is a time when one's patience
+becomes exhausted. Need I say more?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. You are only in the middle of the chapter. Samuel Boyd has to be
+introduced. Proceed.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At your wish,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, with evident reluctance. &quot;Some six
+weeks ago, when I was pressing you for repayment, you made mention to
+me----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stop. When you were pressing me for repayment and threatening to sell
+me up--you left out the latter clause.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You made mention to me of a plan, which would not only enable you to
+repay me what you owed me, but would result to our mutual advantage.
+You had, you said, secret access to the house of Samuel Boyd, who was
+in the habit of keeping there considerable sums of money, of which it
+would be easy to obtain possession. Without risk, without danger. You
+laid particular stress upon that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did,&quot; said Dr. Pye, and the inscrutable smile which accompanied the
+words did not add to his confederate's composure.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You needed a partner in the execution of your plan, a sleeping
+partner, you said, who would have nothing to do but to assist in
+removing the cash and valuables from his house to this, for which
+assistance he was to receive half the proceeds.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Say spoil.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The proceeds. I objected, not being willing to be a party to an act
+of personal violence. I am a peaceable man, and have made my money by
+peaceable means.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By peaceable fraud.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why use harsh terms? All my transactions are legal, and protected by
+the law. In reply to my objection to a deed of violence you told me
+that you could in a moment render a sleeping man so utterly insensible
+and oblivious to all that was passing around him as to utterly remove
+every possible chance of risk. We were to enter the house when Samuel
+Boyd was asleep; you were to go into his chamber and render him
+insensible and unconscious.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;While you remained outside,&quot; said Dr. Pye, still with the inscrutable
+smile on his lips, &quot;in happy ignorance of the sleeping man's fate.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I object to these interruptions,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, sulkily. &quot;Finish
+the story your own way.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will. I informed you that Samuel Boyd, for an unknown purpose of
+his own, had been for some weeks past withdrawing large sums of money
+from the bank, and had been selling securities, and that I expected he
+would have in his safe on the night of March the 1st several thousand
+pounds, of which I offered you half for the tame part you were to play
+in the robbery. Your cupidity was aroused; you could not resist the
+bait, and you consented to become my partner in the crime. You do not
+like the terms I use; they are the correct terms. I am no canting
+psalm-singer; when I commit a crime I accept the responsibility; I do
+not shirk and whine; and as for the penalty, trust me for evading it.
+It was arranged that out of my share of the spoil I was to pay you
+what I owed you, so that you had a double interest in the success of
+the plan. The night arrived, and you were here, jubilant, expectant,
+greedy for the gold, but yet with a craven cowardice for which I
+despised you. However, you screwed your courage to the sticking point,
+and when all the lights in Samuel Boyd's house were extinguished I
+showed you how I obtained access to the premises. We entered in
+silence, and undetected; we made our way up the stairs and entered the
+office which contained the safe. You shook like an aspen, and I left
+you in the office and went alone into the bedroom, carrying a light.
+At that very moment Samuel Boyd awoke and started up in bed before I
+had time to press upon his face the handkerchief which I had prepared
+to render him unconscious. He sprang from the bed, and the
+handkerchief fell from my hand. One cry escaped his lips--only one,
+for my hand was on his throat. But he was strong, a more powerful man
+than I had conceived him to be, and he struggled with me so
+determinedly that we stumbled together into the office, where you
+stood, white-faced and trembling. By some means he got hold of a
+pistol, and fired two shots. One bullet went into the wall, where it
+was found by our good friend Remington, evidence of which was given by
+him and Lambert the detective at the inquest. Where the other bullet
+went has not yet been discovered. I thought I was struck, and for a
+moment my hold on Samuel Boyd relaxed. His eyes fell upon you, and
+your name escaped his lips, which was the first intimation I received
+that you had had transactions with him. That roused you to action, for
+you knew that if he were left alive you were doomed. You sprang upon
+him, and bore him to the ground. Then it was two to one. Our hands
+were at his throat. Whose fingers gave him the <i>coup de grace?</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yours,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, in a hoarse whisper.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yours,&quot; said Dr. Pye, calmly, &quot;as I am ready to testify on my oath.
+However it was, there lay Samuel Boyd, dead before our eyes. We came
+to commit a robbery; we had committed murder. As we stood gazing upon
+the dead body we heard a knock at the street door, and I thought you
+would have fainted, you were so terror struck. In a whisper you
+suggested flight; had your advice been followed we were lost, for
+there was no time to mask the means by which we had obtained access to
+the house. The knocking continued, and it was then that the
+opportunity was afforded me of displaying one of my talents. As a
+mimicker of voices I am unrivalled, and you are aware of my skill in
+another histrionic achievement. It was imperative that the summons
+should be answered, or the neighbourhood might have been aroused. I
+seized your hand, my dear accomplice in crime, and we descended to the
+street door. Mimicking Samuel Boyd's voice I inquired who was there.
+The reply was, 'It is I, sir, Abel Death. For God's sake let me speak
+to you!' Fearing the result if the demand was not complied with I drew
+the bolt and the chain, and dragged the man in; and as he entered you
+struck him with such force that he fell to the ground senseless. I
+have never inquired why you struck him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was an impulse of passion,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, in a faltering voice.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Foist those subterfuges upon weaker men. I did not inquire because I
+knew. You held the candle above your head, and Abel Death saw your
+face, as the man we had murdered had done, and recognised you, as he
+had done. Why do you wince? We did murder him, comrade in crime, and
+are both 'liable to the law for the deed.&quot; Quietly as he spoke he
+seemed to take delight in associating Dr. Vinsen with himself in the
+ruthless work. &quot;Your thought, when you struck Abel Death down, was
+that if he were allowed to go free he would be able to give evidence
+against you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And against you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Thanks for your consideration of me, but I can see to my own safety
+without aid from such as you. When yours is imperilled there is
+something of the savage in you; I give you credit for so much
+manliness. You would have killed him where he lay.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Had you made an end of him,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, morosely----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Or had you done it,&quot; interrupted Dr. Pye. &quot;Why give me all the honour
+of the task we were engaged upon?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His tongue would have been silenced for ever,&quot; concluded Dr. Vinsen,
+&quot;and we should have been safe.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not so sure of that. Anyway I deemed it prudent that he should
+live till we had made search for Samuel Boyd's treasure. If that
+search had been successful I might have handed the poor clerk over to
+your tender mercy. But it was not successful. In the safe we found a
+paltry two hundred pounds, and bills, and documents, and books of
+accounts. The books were valuable to us, for if they had fallen into
+other hands, it would have been seen that we were both indebted to the
+man we killed. Among the bills were many of mine, and some of yours.
+It was not till then that I learned you owed him money; and your
+motive for joining me in the robbery was partly explained. The books
+and bills destroyed, and the man dead, your indebtedness to him was
+cancelled. You are a cunning dog, Ezra Lynn. There were also Lord
+Wharton's bills, which, I fear, are valueless to us.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have not kept them!&quot; cried Dr. Vinsen.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have, and every document we took away.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But they implicate <i>me!</i>&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is perhaps for that reason I have not destroyed them,&quot; said Dr.
+Pye, coolly. &quot;We sink or swim together, Ezra Lynn, so long as we
+remain in England. Among the documents was the list of Lady Wharton's
+jewels, and a statement of how Samuel Boyd became possessed of them,
+with other statements which informed us that he was expected to
+present himself at Bournemouth on the following Wednesday, with the
+fifteen hundred pounds he had arranged to advance to her. But where
+were the jewels? We hunted for them in vain, and to this hour have
+been unable to lay hands upon them, although we know they must be
+there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They may not be. The burglar who broke into the house on the night
+you went to Bournemouth may have found them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. What we could not find he did not find. On the night I went to
+Bournemouth!&quot; said Dr. Pye, and for the first time a laugh escaped
+him. &quot;Tell me another man who could have so successfully imposed upon
+her ladyship, who would have had the audacity to carry out a deception
+so hazardous? Do you not feel proud in having a partner so bold and
+daring? Judge by that of what I am capable, and whether I am fitted to
+hold command. After what I have seen these five nights past, the image
+of Samuel Boyd, who lies dead in his grave, would any other man have
+the hardihood to enter that house? I am a stranger to fear, Ezra Lynn.
+When our conversation is ended we make search for the lost jewels; it
+may be the last chance we shall have. To finish the story of that
+Friday night before you disclose what is in your mind. I made Abel
+Death secure by plunging him into a state of insensibility from which
+it was impossible for him to recover till late the following day, and
+then we removed the books and papers, leaving behind us one document
+which fixed the guilt of the murder upon Mr. Reginald Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How is it,&quot; asked Dr. Vinsen, &quot;that that accusation has not been
+produced?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There are more ways than one of accounting for it. The man who made
+the burglarious entrance into the house may have seized the papers we
+left upon the table, in the expectation that he could turn them to
+profit, to discover later that to produce them would be putting
+himself into the criminal dock; or it may be that Mr. Richard
+Remington appropriated the document and destroyed it, out of regard
+for Inspector Robson's family, and probably also because he believes
+in Mr. Reginald Boyd's innocence. Hark! Do you hear the thunder? A
+storm is approaching. All the better for our purpose. It is two
+o'clock, and we have little time to waste. I will make short work of
+the conclusion of that night's proceedings. At your suggestion we
+placed the body of Samuel Boyd comfortably in its bed, and cleared
+away all traces of the struggle. Your argument was that, as it would
+become known that Mr. Reginald Boyd visited his father that night, it
+would be supposed he had adopted the expedient to make it appear that
+the murdered man died a natural death, and so avert suspicion from
+himself. It was a lame argument, for the marks of our fingers were on
+his throat, but I humoured you, as we humour a child who asks a
+harmless question. The last thing we did was to carry Abel Death from
+the house. Some days afterwards we learned that Mr. Richard Remington
+was taking an active interest in the disappearance of the clerk, and
+for the purpose of ascertaining to what extent he was in communication
+with Mrs. Death you introduced yourself to her under the false name,
+by which you are known to her and to him. I raised no objection to the
+plan; the risk was yours, and I was willing that you should run it.
+You used my name without my authority, and I understand why you did
+so. It was to make me a partner in the risk, was it not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes,&quot; replied Dr. Vinsen, sullenly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;An honest confession. You feared that I should shirk the consequences
+of our crime--let us call it by its usual name--to which you attach so
+much importance. You are mistaken; I am ready to meet them, always,
+always ready. I have overcome greater dangers, have steered my way
+safely over rocks and quicksands far more perilous. Shall I
+recapitulate the particulars of a later incident in this affair? That
+it chanced that one of the men summoned on the jury was a person who
+owed you money which he could not pay; that you held him so completely
+in your power that you could bring worldly ruin upon him; that you
+entered into a conspiracy with him to use his influence with his
+brother jurymen in order that a verdict of wilful murder against
+Reginald Boyd should be returned; that you----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Enough of that,&quot; interposed Dr. Vinsen. &quot;Surely it is not necessary
+to go into these details.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A statement of them refreshes the memory; it is important not to lose
+sight of the smallest incident in this complex matter--but as you
+will. And now, my worthy partner, before we proceed to the house that
+faces this window, explain what you mean by saying that your patience
+is exhausted, and by your threat with reference to the art treasures I
+have gathered, which I value as I value my life?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have had a large sum of money from me,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen,
+doggedly. &quot;I claim my own. The debt must be discharged.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if payment is impossible just now?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot wait any longer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall we say you will not?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You goad me to it. I will not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But it happens that you must wait my pleasure--aye, <i>must!</i> Ezra
+Lynn, you little know the man upon whose fate yours depends, and who
+would have no more compunction in striking you dead where you
+sit than in plucking the leaves from a rose. You would rob me of my
+treasures--the treasures I have purchased with blood. Not while I
+live--not while I live. Here is beauty that I can worship, the work of
+the great masters of the past, exquisite colour and perfect form, in
+the production of which genius toiled with a divine end in view. If my
+history ever becomes known the world will read the story of a man who
+greatly dared, of one who loved beauty in its every shape and form, of
+one who, unblessed with wealth, stopped at no crime to gain it, in
+order to follow his star, and who, when all was lost--if such a fate
+befall him--defied his enemies and defeated them in the moment of
+their victory. You start at the word crime. It is a common word, and I
+use it in the common sense, but not in the sense in which <i>I</i> view it.
+All things are justified to men who dare as I have dared. What is the
+sacrifice of a human life in the endeavour to wrest nature's sublime
+secrets from her breast? Man wars with man, and strews the battlefield
+with the slain. Is that called a crime? We glorify it, we sing hymns
+to it, the church cries 'Hosanna!' and its priests praise the Lord of
+Hosts who crowned our banners with victory. If victory crown mine--and
+it may yet, in the teeth of all obstacles--so shall I be praised and
+glorified. Crime! There is no such word to the victor. I laugh at the
+law that would make a criminal of a hero. Not for the first time shall
+I have successfully defied it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He paused, and smiled scornfully as a flash of lightning pierced a
+chink in the window, which he instantly unshuttered.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We may be seen!&quot; cried Dr. Vinsen, catching his arm.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He took no heed of the warning, but stood at the window, and smiled
+again at the peal of thunder at the lightning's heels. Whether the
+words he had uttered were or were not the ravings of a madman, it was
+clear that he was terribly in earnest.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is but a commencement of the storm,&quot; he said presently, in a
+calmer tone, turning from the window. &quot;There is still something
+further to explain. You accused me of concealing a design from you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen fortified himself with brandy before replying. His nerves
+were shaken, and the liquor gave him courage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why have you had two travelling trunks made, and inscribed with the
+name of Corsi?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, you have discovered that. It is the name I shall assume when I
+leave these shores for another country. The trunks, as you have
+doubtless observed, are specially constructed for the safe transport
+of works of art.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I forbid you to remove them,&quot; cried Dr. Vinsen. &quot;They no longer
+belong to you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How so?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How so?&quot; echoed Dr. Vinsen. &quot;You will not deny your signature?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I will not deny it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By this document,&quot; said Dr. Vinsen, taking a paper from his
+pocket-book, &quot;which I had duly stamped on the day you signed it, they
+became my property if, in six months from that date, you had not
+discharged your debt to me. The six months expired to-day.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Pause a moment before you open it. When did you read it last?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yesterday, and put it in my pocket-book to bring here to-night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If my memory does not play me false, the date was the 18th of
+September, 1897. I did not approve of the document you asked me to
+sign, and you wrote another at this table, worded somewhat
+differently. One hundred and eighty-three days have elapsed since
+then. I am curious to see if I timed it correctly. Open the paper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Vinsen unfolded it, and started in amazement. The paper was blank,
+nothing appearing on it but the red Government stamp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was a vulgar trick,&quot; said Dr. Pye. &quot;You wrote and I signed, not in
+ink which gradually fades, but which suddenly disappears at an
+appointed hour. Content yourself, my worthy friend, and thank me for
+saving you from a danger which would have sent you to the hulks. Had
+you attempted to dispose of these gems to a dealer in any European
+city you would have been immediately arrested. They have been bought
+with blood, and there is not a police court that has not a list of
+them. Priceless treasures! Here are vases, medallions, and bronzes of
+Benvenuto Cellini, for which collectors would give thousands of
+guineas, and every one known throughout the civilised world. That
+wondrous artificer saw visions, as I do, and his progress was marked
+with blood, as mine has been. Content yourself, I say; when I make my
+fortune you shall be paid, and if we discover the jewels to-night you
+shall have the lion's share. Now, follow me, if you have the courage.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * *</h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Noiseless footsteps on the dark stairs, noiseless footsteps in the
+passages--the footsteps of men in their stocking feet. They reach the
+landing on which Samuel Boyd's bedroom and office are situated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The storm rages without, tearing through the Square with fierce,
+shrieking moans and cries, like a forest of wild beasts in pain. There
+is a leak in the roof of the house, and the men within it, when there
+is a lull, hear the raindrops falling, pat, pat, pat. One of the men
+shudders at a terrifying thought, born of the memory of a night when a
+murder was committed there. If a human being were on the roof, stabbed
+to the heart, so might <i>his</i> life's blood drip through the aperture.
+In the terrified man's fancy he sees the red stains on the floor, sees
+them spread through the air, though nothing is visible in his actual
+sight. A muffled cry escapes him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Hush!&quot; From the other man. &quot;Do not raise your voice above a whisper.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why not?&quot; From the trembling man. &quot;There is no one here but
+ourselves.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Fool! The house may be watched. Why do you shrink from me? Are you
+afraid?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No.&quot; But the speaker's lips and face are white. &quot;Can we not have a
+light?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not here. I have matches and a candle with me. There is a screen in
+the office--here is the door--step in, softly, softly! Now, help me
+move the screen before the window. Come, ghost, spectre, or vision,
+show yourself!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For God's sake, stop!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Coward! Ah, that lightning flash! And now the thunder! Listen to the
+rain. It is a deluge.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">They stoop and light the candle, crouching by the writing-table.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Keep the light near the ground. The window is masked, but if the
+candle is raised its glimmer might be seen from the Square. Move this
+way. Nearer to this dumb image of wax in its hooded chair. It would be
+a rare achievement to breathe life into it, to compel it to speak, and
+reveal where the treasure we seek is hidden.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">So low are their voices that it would be impossible for any person
+acquainted with the speakers to recognise them by that sound. They are
+standing at the back of the hooded chair, and the waxwork figure of
+the Chinaman, with its fixed and pallid face, stares straight at
+vacancy.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Speak!&quot; whispers the bolder of the two, in savage derision, and
+shakes the chair--so violently that the Charles the Second cane it
+holds in its hand slips and falls to the ground.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I recall a story,&quot; he continues, picking up the stick, and still in a
+whispered voice, &quot;of a treasure of great value being concealed for
+generations in a cane like this. If this were hollow it could be used
+for just such a purpose. What are these protuberances round the rim?
+Hold the light closer, closer! A circlet of old English letters.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">By accident he presses one of the letters, and as he does so is
+conscious of a movement in the silver knob at the top of the cane.
+Bending over it he sees that the letter he pressed is B, and that the
+pressure has caused the figure 2 to spring up on the surface of the
+knob.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;B, the second letter in the alphabet, stands for 2,&quot; he whispers
+excitedly. &quot;The last words written by Samuel Boyd on the memorandum
+which would send his son to the gallows if it were found, were
+'Notation 2647.' The sixth letter in the alphabet is F.&quot; He presses
+the letter, and the figure 6 appears on the knob. &quot;Ha, ha! The fourth
+letter, D.&quot; He presses that, and the figure 4 appears, the figures now
+ranging 264. &quot;The seventh letter, G. The notation is complete--2647!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Such perfect control did the speaker have over himself that even in
+that moment of excitement his voice does not rise above a whisper.
+Both men are now in a standing posture, the discoverer of the simple
+cryptogram holding the cane.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now for the test,&quot; he says, and with the ball of his broad thumb he
+presses hard upon the four figures. A click is heard. The silver knob
+springs up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The jewels!&quot; he whispers, exultantly. &quot;They are here--they are here!
+See!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the utterance of the word a vivid flash of lightning illumines the
+room, and one man utters a startled exclamation, the other a frenzied
+shriek, for in that momentary flash they see the figure of the
+Chinaman rise suddenly from its chair. The candle is dashed to the
+ground, enveloping them in black darkness, and the cane, with its
+concealed treasure, is plucked from the hand that held it!</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LIX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_59" href="#div1Ref_59">CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Constable Applebee, seeking shelter from the storm beneath the roof of
+Deadman's Court, kept his face and his thoughts in the direction of
+Samuel Boyd's house, for such complete possession had the mystery
+taken of him that lightning, wind, and rain were powerless to drive it
+from his mind. Besides which, as he afterwards informed his wife, he
+had a presentiment that &quot;something was going to happen.&quot; The latest
+flash of lightning caused him to clap his hand instinctively upon his
+eyes; the crash of thunder that followed caused him to drop his hand.
+Then, as though the elements had exhausted themselves, there was a
+sudden hush, for the sound of the fast-falling rain was faint in his
+ears after the deafening thunderpeal. So faint, indeed, that, in the
+belief that the storm was spent, he stepped into Catchpole Square and
+looked around, distinguishing only the outlines of the buildings
+because of the darkness of the night. Almost on the instant the door
+of Samuel Boyd's house was violently opened, and a man rushed out,
+slamming it behind him. With such frantic haste did he run that he
+came into collision with the constable, and both were nearly upset. .
+They recovered their equilibrium simultaneously, and before the man
+could get his breath Applebee proved himself equal to the occasion.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Easy, there!&quot; he exclaimed, and with one hand caught the man by the
+throat, while with the other he raised his whistle to his lips, and
+blew a loud and vigorous summons for assistance.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Let me go!&quot; cried the man, struggling to get free. &quot;Come into the
+house with me--quick, quick, or the murderers will escape!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;<i>You</i> don't escape,&quot; said Applebee. &quot;Keep still, or I'll knock you on
+the head.&quot; And he tightened his hand on the man's throat.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this moment his summons for assistance was answered by the
+respectable mechanic who had twice inquired the way to Holborn.
+&quot;What's up?&quot; he inquired.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Applebee pulled out his bull's eye lamp, and turned its light upon the
+new arrival. &quot;Oh, it's you,&quot; he said. &quot;I call upon you in the Queen's
+name to assist me in arresting this man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Right you are,&quot; replied Lambert, in the half tipsy voice of the
+mechanic.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you mad?&quot; cried the man. &quot;They will escape, I tell you! Come with
+me into that house!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Keep still!&quot; growled Applebee, shaking his captive roughly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What do you charge him with?&quot; asked Lambert, keeping up the fiction.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Murder,&quot; said Applebee. &quot;The murder of Samuel Boyd!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That's a find,&quot; said Lambert. &quot;Let's have a look at him.&quot; And to the
+constable's astonishment he also pulled out a bull's-eye lamp.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who are you?&quot; demanded Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My name is Lambert,&quot; said the detective, dropping his disguise.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I might have guessed it; but don't forget that <i>I</i> made this arrest.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You shall have the credit of it.&quot; The light of two bull's-eye lamps
+was thrown upon the man's face. &quot;By George! It's Dick Remington.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Absent on business,&quot; observed Applebee, sarcastically. &quot;The murder's
+out. What's that he's dropped?&quot; Lambert picked it up. &quot;A mask!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">It was the mask of a Chinaman's face; and moreover, Dick's outer
+garment was that of a Mongolian, resembling the garment of the wax
+figure in the office from which but a few minutes ago he had escaped.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look here, Mr. Lambert, look here, Applebee,&quot; said Dick, eagerly----</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Stop, Dick Remington,&quot; interrupted Lambert. &quot;Don't you think you had
+better shut your mouth? We're bound to take you to the station, and
+charge you. When you're brought before the magistrate you can tell
+your story if you like. Take my advice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So far as my story is concerned I will,&quot; said Dick, &quot;but in that
+house are the murderers of Samuel Boyd. For heaven's sake don't leave
+the place without arresting them!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If he gets us into the house,&quot; remarked Applebee, &quot;we're done for.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We shall be three to two,&quot; urged Dick, despairingly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;If your story's true,&quot; corrected Applebee, &quot;we shall be two to three.
+What's this in your hand? A sword-stick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No,&quot; said Dick, and his heart fell; he was beginning to realise the
+danger he was in, &quot;it is not a weapon. I will explain everything at
+the proper time. Mr. Lambert, I implore you to search that house.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Constable Applebee has spoken like a careful and sensible man,&quot; said
+Lambert, &quot;but we'll see if we can equalise matters.&quot; Taking his police
+call from his pocket he sent his summons through Deadman's Court.
+&quot;Blow yours, too, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first to answer the call was Constable Pond, to whom the affair
+was hastily explained; and presently they were joined by another
+officer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I see no harm in humouring Mr. Remington,&quot; then said Lambert. &quot;Pond,
+you and this officer keep watch in the Square while we go into the
+house. There's only one way out of it, and there's only one way out of
+the Square.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There's the wall at the back,&quot; said Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which they've got over before this time----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Supposing,&quot; Applebee put in, &quot;there was anyone to get over it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, supposing that. When daylight comes we shall be able to
+ascertain if there are any fresh marks of a grapnel there.&quot; Dick set
+his teeth; his rope and grapnel were under the bed of his room in
+Constable Pond's house. &quot;You wish to go into the house with us, Mr.
+Remington?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We must handcuff you. Give me the stick.&quot; He took possession of it,
+and Dick, with a groan, held out his hands. &quot;Behind your back, Mr.
+Remington. I am sorry for the necessity, but there's no help for it.
+There, that's comfortable. Have you the key of the street door?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In my trousers' pocket.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lambert put his hand beneath Dick's outer garment, and took the key
+from the pocket. Then he showed his revolver. &quot;If we're attacked,
+Applebee, I'll account for the two men. Now, then.&quot; He opened the
+door. &quot;You go first, Mr. Remington. Applebee, keep behind me, and be
+prepared.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Throwing light upon their way with their bull's-eye lamps the two
+officers, preceded by Dick, ascended the stairs to the office. No
+person was there, nor in the bedroom. They went through all the rooms
+in the upper part of the house, with the same result. Lambert's
+experienced eye sought diligently for some sign of the presence of the
+men Dick had spoken of, but without success.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A trumped-up story,&quot; said Applebee aside to him, &quot;but <i>I</i> knew that
+all along.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lambert made no reply, but turned to Dick, &quot;Anywhere else, Mr.
+Remington?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The bottom of the house,&quot; replied Dick. Hope was dying within him. He
+knew that he would be searched at the police station, and that, in
+addition to other incriminating evidence, there would be found in his
+pocket the last words written by Samuel Boyd, the production of which
+would be fatal to Reginald. &quot;Fool!&quot; he thought. &quot;Why have I kept it
+about me? Why did I not destroy it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there a cellar?&quot; asked Lambert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I draw the line at cellars,&quot; objected Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will go there,&quot; said Lambert curtly, and the constable was
+compelled to accompany them.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There is a trap door leading to the cellar,&quot; said Dick, hopelessly,
+when they reached the kitchen, for he saw that it had not been
+disturbed since he had last lifted it himself. Lambert raised it, and
+let himself down; ascending, he shook the dust from his clothes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A regular rat hole,&quot; he said. &quot;There's no one there.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor anywhere else,&quot; said Applebee, sulkily. &quot;We're only wasting time.
+Let's get to the station.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Caught, as it were, in a trap of his own preparing, Dick conveyed to
+Lambert, in one of those secret glances which to an intelligent mind
+are as good as speech, an entreaty for a private word.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Remain outside a minute, Applebee,&quot; said Lambert, as they stood in
+the passage leading to the street door. &quot;There's something I wish to
+ask Mr. Remington.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Applebee would have refused if he dared, but Lambert's standing in the
+force was too high, and the part he had played in the mystery too
+conspicuous, for him to venture opposition, so, with a dissatisfied
+mind and a discontented face, he walked slowly forward, and waited in
+the Square by the street door.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;This is a bad business, Dick,&quot; said Lambert, becoming familiar. His
+kind tone brought tears into the young man's eyes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is even worse than it appears,&quot; said Dick, &quot;as you will discover
+when we reach the station. You might take the handcuffs off, Mr.
+Lambert. I'll go quietly.&quot; Lambert instantly released him. &quot;Thank you.
+Handle that cane gently, and carry it upright, if you don't care to
+entrust me with it. You will know why soon. It is worth more than its
+weight in gold. Do you think I have been lying?&quot; Lambert stroked his
+chin. &quot;It is an unfair question, perhaps. Ill answer it myself. As I
+hope for mercy from our heavenly Judge I have spoken the truth.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who were the men you left in the office? Don't say unless you like,
+and don't speak one word that will tell against yourself. Understand
+me--I sha'n't use anything to your disadvantage unless I have the best
+of reasons for it. And don't <i>mis</i>understand me. I intend to do my
+duty without regard to consequences. After all, the proper course is
+silence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>must</i> speak. I don't know for certain who the men were. You see my
+dress and the mask I dropped. I had it made in Covent Garden, and
+partly helped to make it myself. I have been in this house since
+Friday night last, and have sat in that Chinaman's chair whenever I
+heard a sound outside the room, made up to resemble him. I acted
+another part, too--I could smile at it if it wasn't for what I see
+before me. There's new misery in store for those I love best in the
+world, and it is I who will bring it home to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be a man, Dick, be a man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is because I <i>am</i> a man that I feel it as I do. I have been
+working to save them, and as likely as not I have brought destruction
+upon them. I waited for my chance in this house, and to-night it came;
+and it has been spoilt at the last moment by a----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By a man who was doing his duty,&quot; said Lambert, persuasively. &quot;I am
+sure that is what you were going to say. Did you not see the men?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not. They were at the back of the hooded chair all the time,
+and of course I didn't dare to turn my head, or they'd have stuck a
+knife in me. Do you think I'm clever enough to have invented the
+story?&quot; he asked pathetically.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I think you are clever enough to invent anything,&quot; replied Lambert.
+He had great admiration for the young fellow, and great sympathy with
+him; notwithstanding which he would not commit himself. &quot;Be quick.
+I've no time to listen to a long story; Applebee will be getting
+impatient. Didn't you hear their voices?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I could not distinguish them. They spoke in whispers, and I only
+caught a word here and there. But I suspect--I suspect----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I more than suspect. I believe them to be Dr. Pye and the wretch
+Vinsen, who is no doctor, but a money-lender named Ezra Lynn, in
+league with that scoundrel of a juryman, Rawdon.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I know all about Ezra Lynn and Rawdon. How did the men you suspect
+get out of the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot tell. There is some awful mystery yet to be brought to
+light. <i>I</i> hoped to do it, but now I shall be deprived of my
+liberty----&quot; He groaned, and clasped his hands convulsively. &quot;Mr.
+Lambert, our only hope is in you. You want to see justice done, don't
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I <i>will</i> see it done,&quot; said Lambert, sternly.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Don't be misled--don't be thrown off the right track! However strong
+appearances may be against me, and against Reginald Boyd, I swear, by
+all we hold most sacred, that we are both innocent!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Isn't it time we were moving, Mr. Lambert,&quot; called Applebee, from
+without.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In one moment, Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Must I be taken to Bishop Street Station?&quot; asked Dick.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We daren't take you to another,&quot; replied Lambert, gravely. &quot;It will
+be a terrible shock to Inspector Robson.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My poor uncle! I would give my right hand if it could be spared him.
+What will he think--what will his dear wife and daughter think?&quot; Dick
+was suffering physically as well as mentally; he had not tasted food
+for twenty hours.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Again Applebee's voice was heard from without.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A last word,&quot; said Lambert, hurriedly. &quot;My duty will be performed,
+whatever happens; no consideration will be allowed to interfere with
+its proper performance. There will be a search warrant. I don't ask
+you if there is anything in your room in Pond's house that will tell
+against you--don't speak; I will not listen--I don't ask you that. If
+anything is found it will be brought forward without fear or favour,
+and evidence given in a straightforward manner. But it may console you
+to know, quite privately and confidentially&quot;--Dick nodded--&quot;that I am
+working up a case against the men whose names you mentioned, and that
+if I succeed you may not be the worse off for it. Give me your word
+that you will keep this to yourself. Enough said. We're ready,
+Applebee.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Pond and his fellow constable, reporting that no person had passed
+through the Square, received instructions to keep watch, one in the
+front, the other at the back of the house until they were relieved,
+and to arrest all suspicious characters. Then Lambert, Applebee, and
+Dick, walked to the Bishop Street Station.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Inspector Robson's face was worn and anxious, and when he saw Dick and
+heard the charge it became haggard. He held up his hand, as if
+imploring a short respite of silence, and they averted their eyes
+until he spoke. Raising their heads, a dead white face confronted
+them, its lips sternly compressed. He did not avoid their glance, but
+it was noticeable that not for a single moment did his own rest upon
+his nephew. &quot;That is a man,&quot; thought Lambert, &quot;who would go straight
+to his death at the call of duty. It makes one proud to be an
+Englishman.&quot; They were all very grave as, without faltering, he took
+down the charge at the dictation of Constable Applebee.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before I am searched,&quot; said Dick, &quot;I may be allowed to speak, I
+suppose.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I would not,&quot; advised Lambert.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But I will, if I am not prevented by force. To be silent would be an
+admission of guilt, and I am innocent. I wish all in this place to
+hear my story, every word of which is true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was no one in the office except those immediately concerned,
+Lambert, when they entered, having taken the precaution to order the
+constable in attendance outside. In a voice shaken by emotion, but
+weak from want of rest and food, Dick related as briefly as possible
+the particulars of the part he had played in the mystery. He himself
+emptied his pockets, and handed the document falsely incriminating
+Reginald to his uncle.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I kept these matters to myself,&quot; he said, &quot;because I saw that there
+was a strong case of circumstantial evidence against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, and that the knowledge I had gained would strengthen it. Had I
+revealed at the inquest what I knew nothing could have prevented a
+verdict of wilful murder against him being returned. Convinced of his
+innocence my aim was to spare him and those he loved the agony which
+this additional evidence would have caused them. I felt that time was
+required to bring the guilt home to those who had committed the crime,
+and to that task I bent all my energies. I may have erred, but I acted
+for the best, as I believed, and as I still believe; for even now I do
+not despair that the truth will be made known. As to what that hollow
+cane contains I am as ignorant as yourselves, except that before I
+snatched it from the hands of the men who were searching the room I
+heard one of them say, 'The jewels! They are here--they are here!' If
+I had been left at liberty I should have hunted the wretches down, but
+now----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">He had spoken under the influence of intense excitement, but sleepless
+nights, hunger, and the consciousness of the torture which his uncle
+Rob was undergoing, overpowered him here, and with a pitiable
+endeavour to continue, he broke completely down. A long deep sigh
+escaped him, and he sank into the arms of Lambert, who had expected
+and was waiting for the collapse. In this state he was conveyed to a
+cell.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">An examination of the contents of the cane made Applebee open his eyes
+wide with astonishment. Lambert had in his pocket a list of the jewels
+which Lady Wharton had given Samuel Boyd on the night of the murder,
+and he ticked them off as Inspector Robson entered them on the charge
+sheet.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will understand, Constable Applebee,&quot; said Lambert, when the
+business was concluded, &quot;that what passes in Inspector Robson's office
+is not public property. The arrest is not to be spoken of outside. I
+have heard it said in high quarters that there is too much babbling
+and boasting among certain members of the force. If it continues
+severe measures will be resorted to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I understand, Mr. Lambert,&quot; replied Applebee, with the air of an
+injured being. Before they reached the police station he had been
+inclined to regard himself as a hero, but his reception had not
+pleased him, and he returned to his beat in a state of mind not
+exactly amiable. He soon consoled himself, however. &quot;It's jealousy,
+that's what it is,&quot; he said to himself. &quot;He's riled because he didn't
+make the arrest, and can't claim the reward. If it belongs to anybody
+it belongs to me, and if they try to do me out of it I'll go to law
+with them. There's nothing that I know of in the regulations to keep
+it from me. Anyway, there's the reward for the jewels, and it's me
+that found them. Her ladyship wouldn't be mean enough to go from her
+word.&quot; Thus did Applebee muse, and thus does Mammon poison many a
+man's nature. For Applebee had always been an inoffensive, harmless,
+kindly man, but the glare of gold had brought into play the baser part
+of him.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Despite Lambert's warning, which had been given partly out of
+consideration for the feelings of Inspector Robson, a whisper of the
+arrest, and, more or less true, of the incidents connected with it,
+did get about, and the excitement in the neighbourhood of Bishop
+Street Police Station, where great numbers of people congregated in
+the hope of catching sight of Dick, was no less than on the preceding
+Friday, when proceedings against Reginald were commenced.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LX.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_60" href="#div1Ref_60">FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><i>Tuesday, March 19th</i>, 1896.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick Remington brought before the magistrate this morning. Court
+crowded, proceedings very brief. Formal evidence of the arrest only
+was given, and Dick remanded till Friday, when he and Reginald Boyd
+will be brought up together. Mr. Pallaret was in court, and made a
+point of insisting that the case shall be fully gone into on Friday.
+He is hurrying the prosecution on, and doesn't intend to allow it to
+lag. Am not sure whether it is quite wise of him, but I could no more
+teach him his business than he could teach me mine. Dick looked
+better, and fairly self-possessed. The only time he seemed on the
+point of breaking down, as he broke down in the station, was when he
+looked in the direction of Mrs. Inspector Robson and Mrs. Reginald
+Boyd. They almost broke down, too. They were very white and miserable.
+Inspector Robson looked ten years older, but held up bravely. Mrs.
+Abel Death was there. When the case was over saw her talking excitedly
+to the Robsons. To my surprise she came up to me, and asked if I knew
+where her little daughter Gracie was. I did not know. She seemed in
+great distress. Mrs. Inspector Robson and her daughter avoided me, and
+I did not intrude myself upon them. Of course they regard me as their
+enemy. As it happens it may turn out I am their best friend. Don't you
+think so?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Coming away from the court played some good cards. One, a subp[oe]na
+on Dr. Vinsen, summoning him to appear as a witness on Friday. Left it
+at Dr. Pye's house. Asked to see Dr. Pye. 'Not at home.' Detailed two
+men to shadow the pair of them there. Travelling trunks were delivered
+at the house at eleven o'clock. My man caught sight of the name
+painted on them. Signer Corsi. Good. Preparing for a foreign trip. Not
+without my consent, Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Second card. A subp[oe]na on Ezra Lynn, summoning <i>him</i> to appear as
+a witness. I can't help laughing. He will be scratching his bald pate
+to get at the meaning of it. Let him scratch. Detailed a man to watch
+<i>his</i> house, and follow him wherever he goes.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Third card. A subp[oe]na on Stephen Rawdon, requesting <i>his</i><br>
+attendance at the magistrate's court on Friday. I can see the sweat
+running down his face. Can't you? Did not detail a man to watch <i>his</i><br>
+movements. <i>He</i> won't run away.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Three good shots.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Letter from friend Joseph Pitou in reply to mine of Friday last--this
+time in English. He is well up in languages, is friend Joseph. Says my
+man is his man, he believes. Expects to be in London on Thursday night
+or Friday morning. If so, he will be present in the magistrate's court
+on Friday, and will have a good view of our gentleman. Gives me a
+piece of information. Says that he had our gentleman in his custody
+once, and allowed him to slip through his fingers. Very stupid of you,
+friend Joseph. Says our gentleman is the kind of man who never forgets
+a face, and that when he sees friend Joseph we shall know from the
+start he will give what impression this meeting of old friends has
+upon him. I doubt it, Joseph. Our gentleman is the kind of man who
+never gives a start. A modern Sphinx, and, according to Joseph, as
+desperate a character as one would wish to put the darbies on.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Forgot to say that Lady Wharton was not in Court this morning. Her
+ladyship is in the country. She will present herself on Friday, to
+identify the jewels. Applebee expects to get the reward. Now, it was
+Dick Remington who found them. I mentioned this to Applebee, and made
+him uneasy. What a plucky chap that Dick is! As for his story, I
+believe every word of it. Friday will be a regular field day.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_61" href="#div1Ref_61">FROM &quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE&quot; OF THURSDAY, MARCH, 21st</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">In view of the surprising turn the Mystery of Catchpole Square has
+taken, considerable interest was manifested in the proceedings at the
+Coroner's Court this morning, a large share of public attention being
+bestowed upon the juror who has taken so prominent a part in the
+inquiry. All the jurymen were in attendance at the appointed hour, and
+the Coroner, in a brief address, expressed the hope that a sensible
+and just verdict would now be returned. He would make no comment, he
+said, upon the singular differences of opinion between them, nor upon
+the no less singular and unusual form in which those differences were
+presented to him--contrary, he was bound to add, to all precedent and
+established modes of procedure. It would be obviously improper to make
+any comment upon the altered position of affairs; such alteration was
+not for their consideration, and should not be allowed to influence
+them. The verdict they returned should be strictly in accordance with
+the evidence that had been presented to them. He would now dismiss
+them to their duties.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Upon this occasion, contrary to the general expectation, the jury
+remained in deliberation but a very short time. After a lapse of
+twenty minutes they agreed upon the verdict of Wilful Murder against
+some Person or Persons unknown, which, being received by the Coroner,
+the inquiry came to an end.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In connection with this extraordinary case (new developments of which
+may be expected to-morrow at the Bishop Street Police Court), we may
+mention that no light has yet been thrown upon the disappearance of
+Mr. Abel Death. And in this connection we may further add that Mrs.
+Death is in deep distress at the disappearance of her young daughter
+Gracie, who has been absent from her home since Tuesday. Any person
+who can give information concerning her may address themselves to our
+Office, or to Mrs. Death, 7, Draper's Mews.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">We understand that some portion of Lady Wharton's jewels has been
+found, and that her ladyship will attend at the Police Court to-morrow
+to identify them.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_62" href="#div1Ref_62">AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was an unusual bustle in the Bishop Street Police Court on
+Friday morning, every person who could gain admittance and every
+person in the crowds outside being on the tiptoe of expectation. Mr.
+Mallandaine, the magistrate, was in attendance early, and half-a-dozen
+minor cases of drunkenness were disposed of by eleven o'clock, before
+which time every seat was occupied, and there was not a vacant inch of
+standing room. If there had been any intention on the part of Dr. Pye
+and Mr. Ezra Lynn not to present themselves it was frustrated by the
+vigilance of Detective Lambert, who had stepped outside the boundary
+of his duties to secure their attendance. There was not a trace of
+discomposure on the countenance of Dr. Pye. In marked contrast to his
+composed demeanour was that of Mr. Ezra Lynn, who, while assuming an
+air of amused benevolence, was not entirely successful in concealing
+his inward agitation. No information had reached him as to whether he
+had been subp[oe]naed as a witness for the prosecution or the defence;
+he knew that this was irregular, but he did not dare disobey the
+summons. No token of recognition passed between him and Dr. Pye,
+although Lambert had man[oe]uvred that they should be seated next to
+each other. Immediately behind Dr. Pye sat an individual who might
+have been French or Italian; his swarthy complexion and curled
+moustache proclaimed him to be certainly not an Englishman. He took
+his seat, the position of which had also been arranged by Lambert,
+after the entrance of Dr. Pye, so that the former, who did not once
+turn his head, was not aware of his presence. Mr. Rawdon, the
+recalcitrant juror, was within hail, and manifestly as little at ease
+as Mr. Ezra Lynn. Near them sat Mrs. Abel Death, worn and haggard with
+anxiety, all her efforts to find Gracie having failed. Uncle and Aunt
+Rob and Florence were on another bench, and the eyes that rested on
+their suffering faces were filled with pity and kindly sympathy; and
+near them were seated Lady Wharton and her brother, Lord Fairfax. Mr.
+Higgins, in skull cap and list slippers, was also present.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">There was scarcely elbow-room at the long narrow table below the
+magistrate's chair. Mr. Finnis, Q.C., representing her ladyship, was
+there, and Mr. Marlow for the prosecution, and Mr. Pallaret for the
+defence, with the solicitors engaged in the case, and the newspaper
+reporters, who were so numerous that accommodation could not be found
+for more than half of them; those who could not obtain seats stood at
+the back, and plied their pencils industriously.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A buzz of excitement ran through the Court as Reginald and Dick
+appeared in the dock. They were ushered in separately, and this was
+the first time they had met since Reginald's arrest, but messages had
+passed between them through friends and solicitors, and their first
+action now, as they stood side by side, was to hold out their hands in
+token of hearty friendship and confidence. Upon some of the spectators
+this friendly greeting produced a favourable impression; upon others
+the reverse. Of the two young men, it was clear that Reginald felt his
+position the more acutely; Dick had recovered his bright and cheery
+manner, and it was hard to believe that he stood charged with a
+horrible crime.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Upon the case being called, Mr. Pallaret rose and said that he
+appeared for both the accused. &quot;In expressing the hope,&quot; added the
+learned counsel, &quot;that the case for the prosecution will be fully
+disclosed, and in such a comprehensive manner as to enable your
+worship to decide to-day whether you will discharge the accused or
+commit them for trial, I am carrying out their strong wish, with which
+my own view of what is just and right coincides.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Mallandaine: &quot;It is certainly advisable that a charge of this
+nature should not be kept hanging over the heads of the accused for an
+unreasonable length of time, but we have to be guided, to some extent,
+by the counsel for the prosecution.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;There is no desire on our part for delay. In a matter of
+this grave import every opportunity for defence should be given to an
+accused person, and in our proceedings to-day I say frankly that I do
+not intend to hold anything back. At the conclusion of the evidence it
+will be for your worship to decide whether the facts disclosed are
+sufficient to warrant the committal of the prisoners. I venture to say
+that there have been few cases of the kind in which the circumstantial
+evidence is so strong and direct. I would point out to your worship
+that the case assumes a different complexion from that which it
+presented this day week. Then there was only one person charged, now
+there are two, and I shall be able to prove collusion in the committal
+of a murder as brutal as any which can be found in the whole calendar
+of crime. The arrest of the second prisoner, Richard Remington, cousin
+of the first, Reginald Boyd, instead of complicating the issue, has
+cleared it, for much that was mysterious is now capable of
+explanation. The medical evidence will establish that the murder was
+committed on the night of Friday, the 1st of March----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Or on the night of Saturday, the 2nd. My learned
+brother will see the point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;Yes, I see it, but I shall contend that it was committed
+on Friday, on which night Reginald Boyd visited his father, for the
+purpose, as he has himself admitted, of obtaining money from him, he
+being then, upon his own confession, in an impecunious state. The
+notes of his evidence at the inquest will be read to you----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;It will shorten the proceedings by my admitting the
+visit and its purpose. Mr. Reginald Boyd gave his evidence of his own
+free will.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Mallandaine: &quot;Nevertheless, Mr. Pallaret, the evidence had better
+be read from the Coroner's notes, in which you may possibly find
+discrepancies.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;There are parts which I wish to be read, in proof of
+the ingenuous part played by Mr. Reginald Boyd.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;We will read the whole of it. There will also be
+submitted to your worship proof of identification of the body, with
+the Coroner's notes, and the evidence of the two prisoners on that
+point.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;We admit that. There can be no possible doubt that the
+man murdered was Mr. Samuel Boyd, and I may state explicitly that
+there is not the least intention on our parts to dispute matters of
+fact.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;On the night in question three incidents occurred of
+which we have positive knowledge. The first was the summary discharge
+by the murdered man of his clerk, Mr. Abel Death, whose singular
+disappearance has yet to be accounted for; the second was the visit of
+Lady Wharton to Mr. Samuel Boyd, and her depositing with him certain
+articles of jewellery which her ladyship will be called upon to
+identify; the third, the visit of Reginald Boyd to his father under
+the circumstances I have mentioned. I name these incidents in the
+order of their occurrence. From the first discovery of the murder
+suspicion pointed to Reginald Boyd as its probable perpetrator, but
+the disclosures made up to a certain point of the inquiry in the
+Coroner's Court were not considered sufficiently conclusive by the
+police to warrant his arrest. But he was kept under observation.
+Towards the conclusion of the second day of the inquiry an important
+witness came forward in the person of Dr. Pye, a gentleman who, we
+understand, has devoted his life to scientific pursuits. This
+gentleman resides in Shore Street, a street running parallel to
+Catchpole Square. The windows at the back of Dr. Pye's house directly
+face the front of the house occupied by Mr. Samuel Boyd. It has been
+his habit for years to keep up late at night for the purpose of making
+scientific experiments, and on the night of Friday the 1st of March he
+was so employed. At three o'clock on that night--that is to say, on
+the morning of Saturday, the 2nd--he was standing at the window of the
+room in which he was at work, when his attention was attracted by an
+unusual movement at the door of Samuel Boyd's house. It will be
+necessary to bear in mind that Catchpole Square is a <i>cul de sac</i>, and
+that it is very rarely indeed that any person enters there, and none,
+unless it be an entire stranger, with the intention of passing
+through. The entrance to the Square is through a hooded passage
+bearing the ominous name of Deadman's Court. As I have told you, Dr.
+Pye was standing at the window--as he will tell you aimlessly, and as
+I submit in the abstracted mood habitual to students after some hours
+of secluded work--when he dimly observed the opening of the street
+door. An incident so unusual and suspicious made a strong impression
+upon him, and for the purpose of ascertaining the cause he brought
+forward an ingenious contrivance of his own invention by means of
+which he is enabled to throw a flashlight a considerable distance upon
+any desired spot, while the operator remains in shadow. The flashlight
+revealed the figure of a man standing at the door in an attitude of
+fear; Dr. Pye distinguished quite clearly the features of this man,
+who at that time was a stranger to him. The man remained at the door
+in his fear-struck attitude for several moments; then, the flashlight
+extinguished, Dr. Pye observed the shadow of a man--the night was
+dark, and he could distinguish no more than the shadow--slink
+cautiously and stealthily out of the Square. This was the end of the
+incident. During the inquest Dr. Pye properly conceived it to be his
+duty, in the interests of justice, to make the incident public, and he
+addressed a note to the Coroner, stating that he had evidence of more
+or less importance to tender. He was called and examined, and the
+statement he made was to the effect I have described. His examination
+over, a remarkable incident occurred. Glancing around the Court his
+eyes fell upon Reginald Boyd, and he was instantly struck with the
+resemblance he bore to the man he had seen in Catchpole Square; and
+his further examination elicited this fact. It is a proof of his
+fair-mindedness that he warned the jury not to be led into a possible
+error by attaching a too great importance to this resemblance, which
+he suggested might be accidental. If so, it was a remarkable accident.
+While offering this warning against a possible miscarriage of
+justice--of which I admit there are instances on record--he was not to
+be shaken from the positive fact of the extraordinary resemblance.
+Observe that he was not aware that the man whom he pointed out in the
+Coroner's Court was the son of Samuel Boyd. Now, in this connection,
+there will be found a discrepancy between Dr. Pye and another witness,
+Mrs. Abel Death, as to the hour at which the man emerged from the
+house. Dr. Pye says it was three o'clock, while Mrs. Death avers that
+she was in Catchpole Square from half-past two till half-past three,
+during which space of time the door of the house in Catchpole Square
+was not opened. Dr. Pye fixes the time by his watch, which he says he
+consulted, while Mrs. Death fixes it by the striking of the hour from
+St. Michael's Church, which is in the immediate vicinity of Catchpole
+Square. Stress will no doubt be laid upon this discrepancy to
+discredit Dr. Pye's evidence, but it should not be allowed to weigh
+with you. Either of these witnesses may be reasonably and blamelessly
+mistaken, and the strong probability is that it is Mrs. Death, who
+does not possess a watch or a clock, and whose agitation at the
+disappearance of her husband may easily have led her into error. But
+anyway this discrepancy is of small significance. Whether it was at
+three or two o'clock does not affect the fact that a man was seen
+coming from the house----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;I beg my learned friend's pardon. The unsupported
+evidence of a witness in relation to the important incident he
+describes does not establish the fact, and such a word should not be
+used.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;I withdraw the word. You will have the evidence, and will
+judge of its value. It is not conceivable that Dr. Pye had any
+personal interest to serve in coming forward----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Again I beg pardon. What is conceivable and not
+conceivable will probably be made clear before we finish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;I will pass over the incident. The presumption is that
+the man was either the murderer or an accomplice. Now, how does the
+prisoner, Reginald Boyd, stand in relation to what took place on that
+night? We have his own statement that he left his father's house and
+was in his lodgings by midnight, and if he could produce a witness or
+witnesses to confirm his statement, and to prove that he did not leave
+his lodgings again during the night, it would effectually dispose of
+the peril in which he stands in regard to the resemblance between him
+and the man whom Dr. Pye saw. But such a witness has not been, and I
+venture to say will not be, produced, and we have only his bare word
+to fall back upon. Remember that he had a latchkey, and could let
+himself into the house without the knowledge of the inmate. We may
+take it for granted that Samuel Boyd, before he retired to bed,
+chained and bolted the street door, and in these circumstances the
+latchkey would be useless.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I come now to the other prisoner, Richard Remington. No suspicion was
+entertained of his complicity in the crime, and there was no evidence
+connecting him with it until Monday night of this week. When Reginald
+Boyd was arrested Richard Remington was acting as his cousin's
+attorney, and on that very day he was seen posting up bills of large
+rewards, as stated therein, for the discovery of the murderer and Mr.
+Abel Death. On the face of it this simultaneous posting up of the two
+bills would go some way to directly associate Mr. Abel Death with the
+murder. I do not say that this was the intention, but it is open to
+that construction. If such an intention existed the design was artful
+and wicked, and Richard Remington's personal participation in the
+bill-posting--bill-sticking not being his trade--is open to another
+construction, that it was done for the purpose of averting suspicion
+from himself. On the following day, Friday, a notice appeared on the
+street door of the house in Catchpole Square, which stated that
+Richard Remington was absent on business, and that all communications
+for him were to be left at a certain address. Inquiry was made for him
+at that address by a witness who will be called, and nothing could be
+learned about him. I mention this incidentally, as indicating that he
+wished it to be supposed he was living at that address. If this were
+so, for what reason did he make it public, when he was not to be found
+there? Saturday, Sunday, and the daylight of Monday, passed without
+anything being heard of him; but late that night an incident of a very
+startling nature occurred, in which he was the principal actor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Constable Applebee was on his beat, which embraced Catchpole Square,
+and during the storm which came on suddenly at two in the morning, he
+took refuge in Deadman's Court, which you will recollect is the only
+approach to the Square. During a lull in the storm the constable
+stepped from his shelter to reconnoitre the houses in the Square. He
+had not been there a minute before the door of Samuel Boyd's house was
+flung open, and a man ran out, almost into the constable's arms. This
+man was Richard Remington.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXIII.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_63" href="#div1Ref_63">CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His outer garments were such as a Mongolian wears, and in his hand
+was the mask of a Chinaman's face. He carried also in his hand a
+hollow cane of the reign of Charles the Second, in which, as you will
+presently hear, a singular discovery was made. It is not for me to say
+why this disguise was assumed; it is sufficient to state the fact. In
+response to Constable Applebee's calls for assistance Detective
+Lambert came up, and afterwards Constable Pond and another. The
+prisoner gave no explanation of his singular disguise, but made some
+rambling statement to the effect that the murderers of Samuel Boyd
+were in the house. In compliance with his urgent and reiterated
+requests the officers Lambert and Applebee accompanied him into the
+house, and made a thorough search, from top to bottom, without
+discovering any person there. Remington was then taken to the police
+station, and charged. When he was searched a document was found upon
+him of a nature so incriminating, and so direct in its terms, as to
+furnish the strongest proof of the guilt of the prisoner, Reginald
+Boyd. The defence will probably call this evidence presumptive; I call
+it conclusive. The document runs as follows:--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">(Mr. Marlow here read the Memoranda made by Samuel Boyd on the night
+of Friday, March 1st, with which our readers are already
+acquainted.<sup><a name="fnRef_01" href="#fn_01">[1]</a></sup>)</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You will perceive that the document is dated the 1st of March, and
+there can be no doubt that it was the last writing made by Samuel Boyd
+before he was cruelly murdered. That he was in dread of violence at
+the hands of his son is clear. No reference is made in the document to
+the prisoner Remington, but there is a presumptive accusation against
+the missing man, Abel Death, of being in a conspiracy to rob him.
+Observe also the reference to the latchkey possessed by his son, and
+the words, 'If he does not get in through the front door he will find
+some other way; he is better acquainted with the ins and outs of this
+house than I am myself.' In this voice from the grave--for so it may
+be aptly termed--is revealed a deplorable state of feeling between
+father and son which strengthens the case against the prisoner Boyd.
+They were at enmity; each accused the other of robbery or attempted
+robbery, and matters thus were ripe for violence. Is it too wild a
+presumption that Remington removed the incriminating document for the
+purpose of shielding his confederate, and, by implication, himself?
+The document informed them, also, that Samuel Boyd had not yet made
+his will, and that if he died that night his son would become heir at
+law. A strange feature in the case is that the paper was not
+immediately destroyed, but there are numbers of instances in which
+criminals have been brought to justice by over-confidence and by their
+neglect to attend to small matters over which they believed themselves
+to have absolute control. In addition to this document another
+remarkable discovery was made at the police station. On the night of
+the murder Lady Wharton had deposited with Samuel Boyd certain
+valuable jewels as security for an advance of money to be made to her,
+and up to last Monday night no trace of these jewels had been
+discovered. Now, the Charles the Second cane carried from the house by
+the prisoner Remington was hollow, and in it were found the missing
+jewels. Lady Wharton will be called to identify them. Against
+Remington a search of his lodgings furnished further evidence. Under
+his bed was found a rope and grapnel, which he purchased on Friday the
+1st of March----&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Will the date be proved?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;The shopkeeper from whom he purchased it will give
+evidence of the date. It may be asked, what object could there have
+been in Remington purchasing a rope and grapnel to get over the wall
+at the back when Reginald Boyd, with whom we accuse him of being in
+collusion, possessed a key to the front door? The answer to that is
+that they deemed it necessary to be prepared, in case the street door
+was chained and bolted. Or it may have been done, and the rope and
+grapnel used, to divert suspicion from themselves, and to make it
+appear that burglars unacquainted with the premises had effected an
+entrance and committed the crime. It is most suspicious that in
+Remington's evidence at the inquest he made no allusion to the rope
+and grapnel, although the statement of Detective Lambert was before
+him. For what other reason than to screen himself could he have been
+guilty of the suppression? Another piece of evidence will be
+forthcoming. Before either of the prisoners was arrested Detective
+Lambert, during his examination of the house, took photographs of the
+bloody footprints leading from Samuel Boyd's bedroom to the small
+window at the back, through which the person or persons effecting an
+unlawful entrance had passed. Since Remington's arrest photographs
+have been taken of the soles of his boots, and they exactly correspond
+with those of the bloody footprints. As to another startling incident
+in this remarkable crime--the visit of the man disguised as Samuel
+Boyd to Lady Wharton in Bournemouth--we have only conjecture, and I
+make no comment upon it other than that it is a mystery which has yet
+to be elucidated.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have now gone through the principal features of the murder and its
+attendant circumstances, and I think your worship will agree with me
+that there is no course open to you except to put the prisoners on
+their trial at the Criminal Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At the conclusion of this address the general opinion of the
+disinterested persons in court was that the accused were guilty, and
+that there was no escape for them. There were, however, seated at the
+solicitors' table a few more experienced who judged from Mr.
+Pallaret's manner that he by no means despaired of an acquittal. A
+twisted note had been handed to him, on which was written, &quot;He is the
+man. Call Joseph Pitou.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Witnesses for the prosecution were then examined, of whom the first
+was Lambert, whose evidence was similar to that given at the inquest,
+and who testified to the execution of the search warrant in Dick's
+lodgings. Mr. Pallaret asked him but few questions.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You have been engaged in getting up this case?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, under instructions.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;From time to time you have come into communication with Mr. Richard
+Remington?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he assisted or retarded you in your inquiries?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He has been of material assistance to me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At whose suggestion were photographs of his boots taken?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At his. Since his arrest I received a message from him saying that he
+had a communication to make to me. He then related the circumstances
+of his breaking into the house in Catchpole Square, and gave me his
+boots. He also showed me traces of a scar on his hand, caused by a
+wound he received when he broke the window at the back of the house,
+from which the blood had dropped as he walked through the passages and
+rooms.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did it appear to you as if he wished to conceal anything?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It did not. He was quite frank and open with me.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In pursuance of your duties you served subp[oe]nas upon certain
+witnesses?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Among others, upon Dr. Pye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In an interview with him you asked him to show you the flashlight
+device by means of which, according to his statement, he saw a man
+come from the house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was his reply?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That it was under repair, and he could not produce it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then followed the evidence of the reporter of &quot;The Little Busy Bee,&quot;
+and that of Constable Applebee, neither of whom was cross-examined by
+the defence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">At this point of the trial it was observed that a communication was
+made to Detective Lambert, who hastily took his departure, but not
+before he had passed a piece of paper to Mr. Pallaret, upon which was
+scribbled, &quot;If you do not see me in Court delay the proceedings as
+long as possible. If Dr. Pye's examination is over before I return do
+not allow him to leave the Court. Most important.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton was next called. She narrated the circumstances under
+which she had entrusted her jewels to Samuel Boyd, and identified
+them. Among the questions put to her under cross-examination, which
+was purposely prolonged by Mr. Pallaret, were the following:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are any of the jewels you gave the deceased on Friday, March 1st,
+missing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No. They are all here.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you a list of the jewels you gave the person who personated
+Samuel Boyd in Bournemouth on the following Friday night?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You could identify them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Certainly I could. I wish I had the opportunity.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Higgins then appeared in the witness box, shaking visibly, his
+features twitching spasmodically. From him the prosecution elicited
+that Dick had purchased a rope and grapnel at his shop on March 1st,
+and had paid half the purchase money at the time, promising to pay the
+balance in the course of the following week, which promise had not
+been kept. Dick could not understand what his object was in giving
+this false evidence as to the date of the purchase, unless it were
+that he conceived himself injured by not obtaining the blackmail he
+had hoped to gain. He was subjected to a long cross-examination, in
+the course of which he became hopelessly involved, and contradicted
+himself so repeatedly that he was warned by the magistrate. He finally
+retired from the witness box utterly discredited and demoralised.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Dr. Pye's name being called, he took his place in the witness box. His
+face was calm and composed, and he cast his eyes around with a sense
+of power which produced a profound impression among the spectators. In
+a passionless voice he repeated the statement he had made at the
+Coroner's Court, not deviating by a word from his description of the
+events of the fatal night. His statement finished, the examination
+proceeded:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;When you gave your evidence at the inquest you expressed some doubt
+as to the prisoner Reginald Boyd being the man you saw come from the
+house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;There came to my mind instances of mistaken resemblance in past
+trials of importance, and I conceived it my duty to warn the jury not
+to be led into error.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You suggested that you might be mistaken?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I made the suggestion. No man is infallible.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you carefully considered the matter since you appeared in the
+Coroner's Court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has that consideration strengthened or removed any doubts you may
+have had?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It has removed any possible doubt that may have been in my mind.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Look at the prisoner, Reginald Boyd. Can you say now with certainty
+that he is the man you saw?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can say he is, with certainty.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are positive?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Quite positive. The resemblance is so startling that there is only
+the barest possibility of my being mistaken.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, as to the hour. You looked at your watch?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The incident was so unusual that I instinctively took my watch from
+my pocket. It was within a minute of three o'clock.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are aware that another witness, who will probably be called for
+the defence, states that she was in Catchpole Square at that hour,
+that she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three, and
+that the door of the house of the deceased was not opened?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am aware of it. She is mistaken.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you hear the clock of St. Michael's Church strike?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I did not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all, Dr. Pye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret then rose and commenced his cross-examination, which had
+been looked forward to with some eagerness.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your name is Pye?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is my name.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Christian name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Charles Stuart.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Charles Stuart Pye. Have you ever passed under any other name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The question is an insult.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not intend it as such. I am defending two men who are accused of
+an atrocious crime, one of them the son of the man who was murdered.
+Have you ever passed under any other name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you English born?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My parents were English. I was born in Switzerland. If I speak with a
+slight foreign accent it is to be ascribed to the fact that my
+childhood was passed away from England, and that in my youth I
+travelled much in foreign countries.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your English is very good. You speak more than one language?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I speak French, German, and Italian.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How old are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Forty-eight, I think. I cannot say with certainty, as my parents did
+not keep up my birthday.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In what part of Switzerland were you born?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In Geneva, I believe. My parents never informed me, and I did not
+inquire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was a matter of no interest to you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None whatever.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If you were born in Geneva the record of your birth will be found
+there?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Probably.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You call yourself Dr. Do you hold a diploma?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not. I am called Dr. by courtesy.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Whose courtesy?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;General courtesy. It has grown into a fashion. I regard it as a
+compliment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;Are these questions relevant, Mr. Pallaret?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Quite relevant, as your worship will see farther on. I
+shall not ask a question which does not affect the issue.&quot; (To the
+witness.) &quot;I understand that you volunteered to give evidence at the
+inquest in the interests of justice?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Simply that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And had no personal interest to serve?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;None.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Are you acquainted with a person of the name of Ezra Lynn?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is a money-lender?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes. My acquaintance with him results from that.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am sorry to hear it. Are you acquainted with a person of the name
+of Vinsen--calling himself Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you seen him lately?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not within the last few days.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We were anxious to have him here to-day, but I do not see him. We
+issued a subp[oe]na demanding his attendance. Not being able to
+ascertain his address we left it at your house. You are aware of
+that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Has he received the summons?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not aware that he has.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you inform us where he lives?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nor where he is at the present moment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I cannot inform you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Upon Dr. Pye's countenance there was not a trace of discomposure, and
+there was not a tremor in his voice; but the experienced lawyer, as
+skilful a judge of character as the man he was examining, knew that if
+a look could kill his minutes were numbered. There was one person in
+court, Mrs. Abel Death, who listened in bewilderment to the answers
+given by the witness with reference to Dr. Vinsen. This man, who had
+presented himself to her as Dr. Pye's viceroy, who had given her
+money, who had poisoned her ears against Reginald Boyd and Dick
+Remington, was sitting within a few yards of her, and yet Dr. Pye
+denied all knowledge of his whereabouts. What was the meaning of this
+falsehood? Looking at Dr. Vinsen she saw that his eyes were wandering
+around, as though seeking a means of escape. His face was pallid, his
+lips were quivering, his hands trembled as they wiped the moisture
+from his forehead. Gracie had hated him from the first, and it was
+this, perhaps, that had caused her to absent herself from home. The
+mother's heart was wrung with anguish, with doubt, with despair.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret continued his cross-examination.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, about this flashlight of yours, which revealed the face of the
+man you say you saw. A contrivance or device of your own, I
+understand?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Have you brought it into court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is it in your house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No person connected with this inquiry has seen it. You refused to
+show it to Detective Lambert, saying it was under repair. Is it still
+under repair?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Give me the name of the tradesman who is repairing it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I decline to give it. The device is a secret invention, and I will
+not run the danger of losing the benefit of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The question is one I cannot compel you to answer, so I will not
+repeat it; but if the men whom I am defending are put on their trial
+in a higher court we will see that this so-called flashlight is
+produced. I gather from you that on the night of the 1st of March you
+were induced to use it by seeing with your naked eye a man standing at
+the door of Samuel Boyd's house. The night was very dark. How did you
+know it was a man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dark as it was I distinguished the figure of a man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On that night there was no suspicion that a murder had been
+committed. What made you regard as suspicious so simple a circumstance
+as a man coming out of the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I had never before seen any one in Catchpole Square at that hour of
+the night.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Shall we call it a kind of instinct that whispered of a foul deed
+done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Call it what you please. You are drawing upon your fancy; I am
+stating facts.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Very well; we will stick to facts. You saw the figure of a man, and
+your suspicions were aroused. How long a time elapsed before you had
+recourse to your flashlight?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I used it almost immediately.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your process of reasoning was almost as swift as your flashlight. Do
+you keep your device in the room in which you were standing?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How far from the window?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Within reach of my hand.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Before it was ready for its work some little time must have elapsed.
+How is the light produced?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By an arrangement of magnesium wire.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Which requires to be ignited?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;By means of a match?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is, I suppose, necessary that the device be opened before you can
+light the wire?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You saw the figure of a man, your suspicions were aroused, you
+brought forward the flashlight, you opened it, you found the match
+box, you took from it a match, you struck the match, you applied the
+flame to the magnesium wire, you threw the light upon the door in
+Catchpole Square. That is how it was done?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;To strike a match requires two hands, one to hold the box, the other
+to hold the match. You admit that?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;So that, having brought forward your flashlight device, you had to
+set it down before you could strike the match?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And then you had to lift the box again before you could apply the
+flame of the match to the magnesium wire. Do you expect us to believe
+that all these operations were executed simultaneously and
+instantaneously?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, I do not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Good. Timing these various processes of thought and action, we may
+assume that they occupied a couple of minutes?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not so long.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A minute and a half? I don't think I can accept less than a minute
+and a half for the accomplishment of the work I have described?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Say a minute and a half.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I accept it. And all this time the man was standing at the door,
+waiting for you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Again, these are your words, not mine.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you realise how long a minute and a half is to a murderer under
+these circumstances? It is an eternity. Place yourself in the position
+of the man, and time it by your watch. How slowly the seconds pass!
+Between each there is a thrill of agony. I put it to you that it is
+incredible that a murderer, in fear of momentary detection, eager to
+make a swift escape from the scene of his horrible crime, standing in
+a place so lonely and deserted as Catchpole Square, would remain for
+so long a time at the door in suspense?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He must have done so, for I witnessed it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I pass to another subject. I am anxious, like yourself, to adhere to
+fact. Cast your eyes around the court; let them rest upon the seat you
+vacated to take your place in the witness box. Close to that seat do
+you see Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not.&quot; Not a muscle in Dr. Pye's face moved as he gave this
+answer.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You see the man I am pointing at, the man next to whom you have been
+seated these last two hours. Is not that man Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is not.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Who is he, then?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;His name is Ezra Lynn.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Unable to control herself, Mrs. Death rose and exclaimed,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is not true! It is Dr. Vinsen!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A wave of excitement passed over the court; the spectators craned
+their necks, exclamations of astonishment escaped their lips, and for
+a few moments all was confusion. When order was restored, Mr. Pallaret
+said,--</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have done with you for the present, Dr. Pye. I must ask your
+worship not to allow the witness, or any of the witnesses, to leave
+the court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;They will all remain. The officers will see to it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Apparently unmoved and unruffled, Dr. Pye returned to his seat. Those
+of the spectators who were in a position to see observed a smile on
+his lips.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret, turning to the magistrate, then said that it was not
+customary in such cases as the present for the defence to make a long
+speech in a police court, but he was induced by special circumstances
+to deviate from the usual custom, and he was influenced also by the
+accused, whose earnest desire it was that all their proceedings should
+be made public with as little delay as possible. The only important
+witness brought forward by the prosecution against Mr. Reginald Boyd
+was Dr. Pye, and he should be able to prove that this witness was
+utterly unworthy of credit. Evidence of a startling nature would be
+presented which would suggest the gravest doubts in connection with
+him. (At this moment a slight bustle took place in court, caused by
+the hurried entrance of a messenger bearing a note for Mr. Pallaret.
+The learned counsel paused to receive and read the note, and then
+wrote a line in reply, which was handed to the messenger, who
+immediately departed.)</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I do not disguise from your worship,&quot; continued Mr. Pallaret, &quot;that
+my object is to obtain the immediate acquittal of the accused at your
+hands, or, in the event of their being committed for trial, to show
+that the case against them is so flimsy and unreliable, that to refuse
+bail would be a distinct injustice. Stripped of the defence which I am
+in a position to make, I admit that the circumstantial evidence would
+be sufficiently strong to render their detention necessary, but even
+without the defence it would not be strong enough to prove their
+guilt. I take the opportunity of emphasising the extreme danger that
+lies in evidence of this character. One of our greatest writers has
+said, 'Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an
+innocent man, that, directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay
+him.' Such might have been the issue of the charge brought against the
+men I am defending, but happily they are in a position to meet it in a
+conclusive manner, and, I do not hesitate to say, to prove their
+innocence. Although not quite relevant to the issue affecting
+themselves, I cannot refrain from saying that in establishing their
+innocence they will also establish the innocence of an absent man
+against whom the finger of suspicion has been pointed. I refer to Mr.
+Abel Death. With respect to one of the accused I shall unfold a story
+which has in it many of the elements of romance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret then described the part which Dick had played in the
+Mystery. With breathless interest the spectators listened to the
+recital, the effect of which was heightened by the eloquence of the
+narrator.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Richard Remington&quot; (proceeded Mr. Pallaret), &quot;convinced of the
+innocence of his cousin's husband, recognising the dangerous position
+in which he stood, and with a certain suspicion in his mind, conceived
+and carried out a plan as novel, as ingenious, and as <i>bizarre</i>, as
+has ever been disclosed in a court of justice. On two nights, when he
+was in the house of the murdered man, he had observed that a
+flashlight had been thrown upon the windows from the back room of the
+house inhabited by Dr. Pye. He resolved to present a problem to that
+person. As skilful in disguise--I may mention that he had been a short
+time on the stage--as the villain who personated Samuel Boyd, and
+robbed Lady Wharton of her jewels in Bournemouth, he dressed himself
+in a suit of Samuel Boyd's clothes, and, in theatrical parlance, 'made
+up' his face to resemble that of the murdered man. Thus disguised he
+stationed himself at the front window of Samuel Boyd's house, and upon
+more than one occasion experienced the satisfaction of having the
+flashlight thrown upon him. He put into execution another and a bolder
+idea, the successful result of which led to his arrest under
+circumstances which you have heard described by Constable Applebee and
+Detective Lambert. He was convinced that persons found access to the
+house by some means and in some way unknown to him. If his suspicions
+were verified the natural conclusion would be that those persons (I
+use the plural advisedly) were the murderers. He determined to set
+watch for them, and to remain hidden in the house for several days and
+nights. In order to carry this out successfully, and to throw dust
+into the eyes of the suspected persons, he affixed a notice to the
+street door, to the effect that he would be absent from the house for
+some time.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In the room on the first floor which had been used as an office there
+is, among other singular articles, the wax figure of a Chinaman,
+suitably attired. This figure is sitting in a hooded chair, what is
+called, I believe, a grandmother's chair. Mr. Remington had procured
+from a theatrical costumier in Covent Garden the mask of a Chinaman's
+face and a costume similar to that which clothed the wax figure. His
+design was, when he heard sounds of any person or persons moving in
+any part of the house, to place the wax figure in a cupboard in the
+office, and take its place. It was a bold and hazardous design,
+fraught with danger to himself, but, determined if possible to bring
+the miscreants to justice, he allowed no considerations for his
+personal safety to stand in his way. He entered the house on the
+Thursday night of last week, and did not leave it until the Monday
+night of this week. Animated by his high resolve, stern and fixed in
+his purpose, behold him in that lonely house, on the watch! Thursday
+and Friday nights passed, and nothing occurred. Neither was he
+disturbed on the nights of Saturday and Sunday. He remained there in
+absolute darkness, confident that the time would come.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And here let me offer my tribute of praise and admiration for the
+courage, the patience, I may say the heroism he displayed during this
+long vigil, this arduous and almost sleepless watch, undertaken out of
+affection for the family to which he is related, and to prove the
+innocence of a man falsely accused of a horrible crime.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On Monday night, or rather at about two o'clock on Tuesday morning,
+his patience was rewarded. He heard sounds in the passage below which,
+faint as they were, denoted that he was not now alone in the house. He
+had already assumed his disguise and removed the wax figure of the
+Chinaman from the chair. All he had to do was to take its place. The
+back of the hooded chair being towards the door he could not see who
+entered when it was softly opened. Nor could he distinguish the voices
+of the men, for they spoke in whispers. They moved about the room in
+their stocking feet, and from the few words that reached his ears he
+gathered that they had come once more to search for the jewels which
+Lady Wharton had given Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of her visit to
+him. Now, I call your attention to the last words of the document
+written by the unfortunate man on that fatal night--'Notation 2647.'
+Mr. Remington did not dare to turn his head to watch the movements of
+the men as they moved about the room. Disappointed in their search one
+of the men, in his passion, shook the hooded chair so violently that
+the cane in the hand of the supposed wax figure--which Mr. Remington
+also held, in order to completely carry out the deception--slipped
+from his grasp to the ground. The man who picked it up pressed, by
+accident, one of the raised letters in the knob of the cane. This
+pressure caused the figure 2 to spring up. In a state of intense
+excitement the man drew his companion's attention to the circumstance,
+and made a reference to the notation, thus proving that he was
+familiar with it. He had pressed the letter B, the second in the
+alphabet, and it had released the figure 2. He pressed the sixth
+letter, F, and the figure 6 was released, the fourth letter, D, and
+the figure 4 was released, and the seventh letter, G, releasing the
+figure 7, the notation was complete, 2647. Mr. Remington, his sense of
+hearing preternaturally sharpened, heard the whispered comments of the
+men as figure after figure was released, and heard the click of the
+silver knob as it sprang up and revealed to the delighted eyes of the
+conspirators the jewels which had been concealed in the hollow of
+the cane. Thanks to Mr. Remington's prompt action their delight was
+short-lived. You will recollect that at this hour on Monday night a
+storm was raging, and that the lightning was very vivid. What followed
+was the work of a moment. Mr. Remington started to his feet, and as he
+did so a flash of lightning illumined the scene. One of the
+conspirators held in his hand a lighted candle, the other the cane
+containing the treasure. He seized the cane, and dashed the lighted
+candle to the ground, thereby plunging the room in darkness, all the
+blacker because of the lightning flash that had passed through it, and
+flew into the passage and out of the house, to fall into the hands of
+Constable Applebee. It is unfortunate that in that brief moment of
+rapid and resolute action he did not see the faces of the
+conspirators, but he has his suspicions who they were, and has
+communicated them to me. Before these proceedings are ended we may see
+those suspicions verified. I have now related the true story of Mr.
+Remington's adventures, with all its strange and remarkable episodes,
+and with the trite remark that truth is stranger than fiction I will
+call the witnesses for the defence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The first witness was the costumier in Covent Garden, who testified to
+Dick's purchase of the Chinese mask and costume. He thought they were
+for the stage. Such purchases were made of him every day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The next witness was Mrs. Abel Death, who, despite her distress, gave
+her evidence of the disappearance of her husband and her search for
+him in a fairly clear manner. When she was questioned as to the
+disappearance of her daughter Gracie, the counsel for the prosecution
+intervened, and contended that these private domestic matters had
+nothing to do with the case. Mr. Pallaret, answering that before he
+was done he would show that they had a direct bearing upon it, was
+allowed to proceed.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, Mrs. Death, on the day on which you made your application in
+this Court respecting your husband's disappearance you were visited by
+a person who introduced himself as a doctor. What name did he give?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Vinsen, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He spoke of Dr. Pye as his intimate friend?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you see Dr. Vinsen in Court at the present moment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, I see him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Let the man seated next to Dr. Pye stand up.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With evident reluctance, and vainly endeavouring to conceal his
+agitation, Dr. Vinsen stood up.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is that Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, that is the gentleman.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But Dr. Pye, his intimate friend, declares he is not Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can't help that, sir. He <i>is</i> Dr. Vinsen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You swear it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I swear it, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Is there the slightest doubt in your mind?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not the slightest, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Can you give me any reason why Dr. Pye, Dr. Vinsen's intimate friend,
+should say he had not seen him for some days past?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, sir, I can't make it out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In his visits to you did you have any conversation about the murder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did he make any reference to Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington in connection with it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir. It was his opinion, he said, that Mr. Reginald Boyd did it,
+and that Mr. Remington was mixed up with it, and that, to keep off
+suspicion from themselves, they were trying to throw it on my poor
+husband.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you believe it?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I didn't know what to believe, sir, I've been that distracted.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I sincerely pity you; but do not lose heart. Did your daughter Gracie
+believe it----but stop, I must put it another way. Did your daughter
+Gracie say anything to you on the subject?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir. She said she didn't believe it. The poor child didn't like
+Dr. Vinsen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is all, Mrs. Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No questions being asked by the counsel for the prosecution, Mrs.
+Death's place was taken by Mr. Rawdon, whose face was very white when
+he stepped into the box.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You were one of the jury at the inquest held upon the body of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I was.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are acquainted with Mr. Ezra Lynn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I have had business dealings with him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Borrowed money of him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will trouble Mr. Ezra Lynn, or Dr. Vinsen, to stand up again. Thank
+you. Is that Mr. Ezra Lynn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Not Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I don't know Dr. Vinsen.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The inquest extended over a period of eleven days. Now, I ask you
+whether, during those eleven days, you had frequent communication with
+Mr. Ezra Lynn?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I saw him once or twice.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Be careful. Did you not see him six or seven times?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Probably.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You owe him a large sum of money?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I owe him money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He holds an execution over all your goods and furniture which he can
+put into execution at any moment? No evasions, sir!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;On those six or seven occasions on which you saw Mr. Lynn while the
+inquest was in progress what was the subject of conversation between
+you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The money I owe him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Nothing else? Not the murder?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It was mentioned. Everybody was talking of it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Now, there is no obligation upon you to answer the question I am
+about to put, but if you reply I warn you to bear in mind that you are
+upon your oath. In the course of your conversations with the man who
+could sell you up at a moment's notice, did he express a wish that a
+particular verdict should be returned, and did he supply you with any
+information concerning Mr. Reginald Boyd to guide you in furthering
+that wish? You are silent. Do you decline to answer?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, I do. It has nothing to do with the case. Everybody has an
+opinion about the murder.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am not asking you about his opinion, but about his wish, and about
+certain information with which he supplied you. You are still silent.
+We shall know what construction to place upon your refusal to give a
+plain answer to a plain question. You can return to your seat, Mr.
+Rawdon, unless counsel for the prosecution desires to cross-examine
+you.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;I have no questions to ask the witness; and I may add
+that I fail to see the drift of several of the questions my learned
+friend has put to the witnesses.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;When I have finished it will be seen that there is not
+a question I have put which is not justified. In all my experience I
+have never known so foul a conspiracy as that which I hope to lay
+bare. Call Joseph Pitou.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The foreign gentleman with the curled moustache who had been stationed
+behind Dr. Pye left his seat, and made his way to the witness box, and
+for the first time Dr. Pye had a full view of his swarthy face. They
+gazed steadily at each other, and for so long a time that it seemed to
+be a challenge which should drop his eyes first. This strange and
+steadfast gaze drew upon the two actors the attention of every person
+in Court. At length, with a gesture expressive of satisfaction, Joseph
+Pitou turned to Mr. Pallaret, who had watched the scene so earnestly
+that it almost appeared as if he were also playing a part in it.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXIV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_64" href="#div1Ref_64">A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is your name and calling?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am of the Criminal Investigation Department in Paris. Joseph Pitou,
+a name well known.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We are familiar with it in England. You have come to London on
+special business?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;In association with my esteemed <i>confrère</i>, Monsieur Lambert, I have
+come to make the arrest of a notorious criminal.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You speak excellent English?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You are pleased to say so. It is to me as my mother tongue; as is
+also Italian, German, and various dialects of the Turkish and Polish
+languages.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the name of the notorious criminal you have come to arrest?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Louis Lorenz.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Do you hope to be able to lay hands on him?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I can lay this hand on him at any moment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is the nature of his crime?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Permit me. Of his many crimes. Many robberies, attended with extreme
+brutality. And worse than robberies. One positive murder in Gallicia;
+another probable murder in Vienna; another in St. Petersburg.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Up to this day he has escaped?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, he has escaped, always escaped. Condemned to the galleys in
+Vienna; a week afterwards, flown. Sent to Siberia in Russia;
+disappeared on the road. Sentenced to death in Gallicia; his cell
+empty the day after he was put into it.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A man of rare talent?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Of immense talent. His plans laid with the brain of a master; money
+ready for bribes; confederates ready to obey orders. Nothing has been
+too difficult for him to accomplish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What was the principal motive for his crimes? Money?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It is curious. Money sometimes, but never money alone. In every case
+his victim was possessed of some rare treasures of art which Lorenz
+coveted, and would have trodden through blood to obtain. As it
+happens, he trod through much blood. In this way many valuable
+antiques have disappeared. I have a record of them. Search has been
+made for them throughout the wide world, and they are still
+undiscovered. For years I have been on the track of them. A clue fell
+into my hands, and I followed it up. I hold a warrant for the man's
+arrest, and soon justice will be satisfied.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Louis Lorenz can be no common criminal?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My faith, no! Louis Lorenz is a prince, an emperor of criminals. I
+have hunted for him in every city in Europe and America, and for the
+art treasures he has stolen. Not one has seen the light; not one has
+been offered to dealers or connoisseurs. He has been known here, and
+known there, as a man who dabbled in science. It has been said he is
+in search of the Philosopher's Stone, of the elixir of life. He has
+imposed even upon <i>savants</i>, who have been seduced into believing in
+the miracles he declared he would one day accomplish.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;But if he presented himself in his own proper person how is it that
+he has not been caught, that he is still free?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never did he present himself in his own proper person. Always so
+disguised that it was impossible to identify him. He is an actor of
+the first class, a match for the Evil One himself. But for the powers
+of darkness man is sometimes a match.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Be sure thy sin will find thee out?'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Ah, monsieur, it is true.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You say it would be impossible to identify him with his clothes on.
+Would it be impossible to identify him with his clothes off?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;'Ah, no, that is a different matter. He is branded on the back, on
+the breast.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;Is not my learned friend wandering from the case we are
+investigating--the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;No. Be patient, and you will understand; I will not
+keep you long in suspense.&quot; (To the witness.) &quot;You say you can lay
+hands on Louis Lorenz at any moment. At this moment?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;At this moment.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here in this court?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Here in this court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Then he must be in attendance?</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is in attendance.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Point him out.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The witness extended his arm dramatically, and pointed to Dr. Pye.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;That is the man!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A scene of indescribable excitement ensued. Exclamations of
+astonishment were heard on all sides, and everyone, with the exception
+of the French detective, the counsel for the defence, and Dr. Pye, was
+in commotion. They remained unmoved, the two former silent and
+watchful, the latter exhibiting not the least trace of agitation. In
+the midst of this excited scene loud exclamations were heard outside
+the court, where the people appeared to have caught the contagion, and
+presently the policemen near the door leading to the public
+thoroughfare were seen to be busily forcing a passage for the entrance
+of two persons, one a little girl, carried in the arms of detective
+Lambert, the other a man, white and emaciated, reclining in the arms
+of two constables. As they came into view a shriek from Mrs. Death
+resounded through the Court.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Abel! Abel!&quot; she screamed, and her frenzied cry was followed by an
+interval of dead silence.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death raised his head, and looked at his wife with a wan,
+affectionate smile; and Gracie, with a strange glitter in her large
+black eyes, cried in a hoarse voice,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's all right, mother! It's all right, Dick! I said I'd find father,
+didn't I?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Let these witnesses be brought forward to this table,
+where they will have more breathing space. I must ask your worship to
+excuse me while I speak privately to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Abel Death, who was very weak, was accommodated with a seat at the
+table, where he reclined, with a cushion at his back; Gracie, holding
+his hand, sat by his side; and between them and Mr. Pallaret and
+Lambert, a whispered conference was held, lasting several minutes. The
+conference over, Mr. Pallaret addressed the magistrate:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The proceedings in this case have been somewhat irregular, but not
+less irregular than I anticipated when I opened the defence. My
+object, as I informed your worship, was to obtain, not an adjournment
+of the case, but the immediate acquittal of the accused. I made the
+observation that the only evidence against Mr. Reginald Boyd was that
+given by the person who calls himself Dr. Pye, and it will not be
+disputed that his evidence is entirely discredited. Nay, I will go
+farther and say that it was fabricated for the purpose of weaving so
+strong a case of circumstantial evidence against two innocent men as
+to practically ensure their conviction of a crime which they did not
+commit. With respect to Mr. Richard Remington, you have heard the
+strange but true story of the part he has played in this mystery. When
+he was caught last Monday night in Catchpole Square his appeals to his
+captors to hurry into the house for the purpose of arresting the two
+men who were searching for treasure there while, disguised to resemble
+the wax figure of the Chinaman, he was seated in its chair, was
+doubtless regarded by many in this court as a mere invention; but I
+shall now be able to prove that it was no invention, and at the same
+time to establish the truth of the story I have related to you. The
+proof will be forthcoming in the evidence of this brave little girl,
+Gracie Death, who has played a part in this strange mystery as
+adventurous and romantic as that of Richard Remington himself. After
+she has given her evidence I shall call her father, Mr. Abel Death, if
+he is strong enough, to relate what he knows. He has, as it were,
+risen from the grave, and thanks to his brave little daughter, is
+enabled to make his appearance here to-day. I shudder to think what
+might have been his fate had the vile conspiracy I am unmasking been
+allowed to proceed, and had the conspirators been allowed to leave the
+court. In a charge so serious, and in circumstances so strange and
+unprecedented, I am confident that your worship and my learned friend
+for the prosecution will allow me every latitude; and in furtherance
+of this appeal I ask to be permitted to suspend the examination of
+Monsieur Joseph Pitou, for the purpose of examining the two new
+witnesses who are manifestly unfit to remain for a long time in the
+air of this Court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;I have no objection to offer.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I thank my learned friend. Let Gracie Death go into the witness box.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">But before this could be done Gracie was seized with a fit of coughing
+which terribly shook her slight frame. There were few among the
+spectators that did not pity the child, who made brave efforts to
+check the cough, and who, when it was over, looked lovingly at her
+mother, and said,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It's all right, mother, don't you worry about it; only I've had to
+hold it back so long!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, all eyes upon her, she was assisted into the witness box, and a
+stool placed for her to stand upon, Detective Lambert stationing
+himself by her side to render her assistance if she needed it. When
+the Bible was handed to her the magistrate asked if she understood the
+nature of an oath; she replied that she was to tell the truth, the
+whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that she didn't mean to
+tell anything else. This being deemed satisfactory she was sworn, and
+her examination proceeded with.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is your name?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Gracie Death.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How old are you?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I shall be thirteen soon, sha'n't I, mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You left your home last Tuesday morning?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, sir, I did, and I was sorry for mother because I knew she'd
+worry. But I had to.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Why?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Because of Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;Who is Dick?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick Remington, my lordship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The magistrate was not the only one who smiled at the form of this
+reply.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What had Dick to do with your leaving your home? Tell us as much as
+you can?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, sir, Dick and me had gone partners to find father, and to find
+out who murdered Samuel Boyd. I was sure father didn't do it, though a
+lot of people was wicked enough to say so, and Dick was sure Mr.
+Reginald didn't do it, and I believed what Dick believed, so I was
+sure, too. Dick was the captain of the ship, and I was first mate. He
+gave me things to do, and I did 'em as well as I could. I found
+out that Dr. Vinsen wasn't Dr. Vinsen at all, but Ezra Lynn, a
+money-lender. I always knew he was no good--yes, I did, mother! And I
+caught the sham doctor talking to Mr. Rawdon, the ironmonger, the man
+that was on the jury, and I saw him go into his shop. Well, when I saw
+the notice posted up in Catchpole Square that Dick had gone away, I
+couldn't make it out, though I knew that Dick was doing the right
+thing--he always does, you know--but I didn't like to be left out of
+it. I went to Mrs. Inspector Robson, who's been I can't tell you how
+kind to me--and so has Mr. Inspector Robson and that poor young lady
+there--but she couldn't say where Dick was, and I was that worried
+you'd hardly believe. Wait a bit, please--there's that cough of mine
+coming back again.&quot; After a silence of a minute or so, except for the
+hollow, rasping sounds she made, she said, with an odd kind of
+pathetic resignation, &quot;It's taking it out of me now because I wouldn't
+let it have its way when it wanted to. I didn't dare, you know. Well,
+I worried and worried, and last Monday night I had my dream again.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What dream?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;About father. I've had it I don't know how many times, and every time
+father's come crying out to me to save him and to look for him in
+Catchpole Square. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I kept on thinking
+and thinking about it, and then I heard that Dick was taken up for the
+murder, and I had him to save as well as father. He'd been caught
+coming out of the house, where he'd been watching since Friday, so I
+says to myself, 'What Dick can do I can do,' and I makes up my mind to
+watch as he'd done, on the chance of catching the murderers. Dick said
+they'd been there, you know, and if they come once they might come
+again, all the more now that Dick was out of the way. That's where
+I've been from Tuesday night up till now.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;How did you get into the house?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Didn't Dick tell you? It's through the next house, where you can push
+open the door at the bottom of the steps. Then you go down to the
+cellar, and there's some bricks in the wall that you can take out and
+put back again. That's the way you get into the cellar of Samuel
+Boyd's house. There's a trap door in the ceiling that you can reach by
+standing on a broken chair; you push it up and scramble through, and
+there you are in Samuel Boyd's kitchen. I showed it to Dick, and
+perhaps he made use of it when he didn't want anybody to know how he
+got in and out of Mr. Boyd's house. And you can put everything back
+that artful that it'd take a clever one to find it out. So there I was
+in the house, with a loaf of bread that I bought with some money Dick
+give me. The water was on, and with that and the bread there was no
+fear of my starving for a little while. Nobody come on Tuesday night,
+and I kept myself snug. And nobody come on Wednesday. But I wouldn't
+give it up as a bad job, and I kept on watching and listening all day
+yesterday. Well, I don't know how late in the night it was, but I
+think it must have been two or three in the morning, when I heard
+somebody talking to somebody else in the downstairs passage. They
+talked very soft, but I heard 'em, and then they crept upstairs, and I
+slips into my hiding place, and watches through a chink. For I says to
+myself, 'If they come anywhere they'll come into the office.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Where was your hiding place?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father
+worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's
+hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the
+side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room,
+and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the
+pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and
+there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the
+office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I
+hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my
+throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't
+you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in,
+without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently
+they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the
+ground. I knew why they did that--so that the light couldn't be seen
+through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being
+to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued
+to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Did you know them?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see
+the other man?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in
+the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but
+with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the
+dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would
+come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a
+question.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, &quot;It is
+Dr. Pye,&quot; whereupon an officer cried, &quot;Order in the court!&quot; But,
+irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the
+prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;That is the other man.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;I am. The other man in Dr. Pye.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Still you may be mistaken?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't
+another man in the world like him.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Well, you saw them. What happened next?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they
+were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to
+talk louder. Dr. Vinsen--I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't
+his proper name, but it comes easier--he said it was madness to come
+into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute.
+He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye
+called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office--father used
+to tell of it--and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a
+corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and
+poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye
+laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying
+to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you
+squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen
+cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your
+knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began
+to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing
+and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen
+said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be
+hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again,
+'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I
+couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things
+don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr.
+Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and
+vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr.
+Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil!
+Soon afterwards I heard father's name--I don't know which one spoke
+it--and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little
+while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them
+leaving the room.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Stop a moment or two, and get your breath.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;Let me go on, please--I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he
+feeling any better?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Yes. With your permission, your worship.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was
+given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and
+implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with
+her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were
+stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an
+affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and
+kissed him, sobbing,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained;
+she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her
+again and again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?&quot; asked Gracie, in a
+low tone. &quot;If I hadn't, father might never have been found.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;My darling, my darling!&quot; sobbed Mrs. Death. &quot;It was I who was
+wrong--you were right all through.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Never mind that now, mother,&quot; Gracie said. &quot;Let me go on, or the
+gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police
+Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the
+officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a
+pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and
+even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, &quot;I should like to
+do something for that little heroine,&quot; the ushers forgot to cry,
+&quot;Silence in the court!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's
+tender clasp): &quot;May I go on, now, sir?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving
+the room.'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie: &quot;I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I
+was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and
+through the door of the little room into the passage. They were
+downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so
+down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the
+street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch
+'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then
+I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of
+the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me
+the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool--you've spilt
+'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they
+were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because
+everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw
+what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a
+shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if
+you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel
+in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw
+the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole.
+Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a
+minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for
+it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd
+done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they
+hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the
+panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went,
+without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of
+water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid
+ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under
+Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got
+to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them
+do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that
+aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I
+didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my
+blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from
+screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At
+first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read,
+that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was
+warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir,
+though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father.
+'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he
+answered. 'It's little Gracie!'&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with
+extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the
+lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her
+lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering
+sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators
+gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered
+by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the
+counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr.
+Pallaret addressed the court:</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition
+to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with
+pity and horror--except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon
+be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can
+heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic
+heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been
+properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long
+sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small
+loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is
+indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has
+never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed
+by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds.
+Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your
+worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has
+established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of
+one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the
+discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be
+taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra
+Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering
+Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the
+concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call
+Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has
+made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under
+which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the
+witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be
+taken into my room, and every attention paid to them.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear
+of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among
+the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings
+this morning in connection with this case.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Detective Lambert: &quot;From information received shortly after the case
+was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which
+has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man
+stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death,
+who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the
+night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has
+been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his
+home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time,
+and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An
+untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely
+accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at
+the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which
+he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly
+opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of
+two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so
+violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility;
+that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was
+discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed
+to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not
+release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and
+endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had
+concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to
+other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure;
+that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened
+with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that
+insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into
+unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a
+state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this
+treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received,
+that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from
+the point at which Gracie Death left it.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;She remained with her father all night, being afraid to leave him
+because Dr. Pye, when he passed through the cellar shortly before she
+entered it, had threatened to come back and force him to take
+something which would send him into a sleep from which he would never
+wake. In daytime very little light can penetrate the cellar, and by
+this dim light Gracie Death saw the door which led to the upper parts
+of the house. She tried it, and found it was locked from the outside.
+She knew that Dr. Pye had to attend the police court to-day to give
+evidence in this case, and she thought it best to wait till he was
+gone, and then to get back to the house in Catchpole Square through
+the tunnel, and go for assistance to release her father. He was so
+securely tied, and the ropes that bound him were so thick, that she
+could not undo them, and there was nothing in the cellar with which
+she could cut them. No food was brought to Mr. Death this morning,
+which perhaps was fortunate, as it would have led to the discovery of
+Gracie. The little girl had to judge the time at which Dr. Pye was due
+in this court, and it happens that she did so very accurately, for the
+detective who was watching Dr. Pye's house informed me that it was a
+little after eleven o'clock when he saw her running up and down Shore
+Street in search of a policeman. He went up to her and told her who he
+was, and having heard her strange story, first sent me a note which
+was delivered to me in court shortly after I had given my evidence,
+and then endeavoured to obtain admission into Dr. Pye's house. To all
+appearance it was empty, for no one answered his knocks at the door,
+and matters were at a standstill until my arrival. As we could not
+break open the front door I obtained a ladder and set it against the
+back window that looks out on Catchpole Square, the window through
+which Dr. Pye said he threw the flashlight. There was a shutter to the
+window which I forced open; Gracie had followed me up the ladder, and
+I assisted her into the room, in which I observed two new travelling
+trunks. I did not stop to examine them, but ran down to the street
+door, and admitted two constables I had sent for. I may state here
+that there were no servants in the house. Then we hastened to the
+cellar, the door of which we forced, and found Mr. Abel Death, as his
+daughter has described. When we got him into one of the better rooms,
+and took the ropes off him, he was so weak that it was impossible to
+bring him to the court, and I despatched a line to the counsel for the
+defence giving him certain information, and saying I hoped to be in
+attendance with the two new witnesses in the course of an hour or two.
+While restoratives were being given to Mr. Death I searched the house,
+and found a mass of account books and documents which had belonged to
+Mr. Samuel Boyd. I found also some articles of clothing which I
+believe will be found to have been worn by him. There was one complete
+suit of gray, and an overcoat with a fur collar. Lady Wharton will
+perhaps be able to say whether the man who visited her in Bournemouth
+wore a suit of that colour and a coat of that description.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton (from the body of the court): &quot;He did.&quot; Detective
+Lambert: &quot;One of the trunks was packed and locked, and it appeared to
+me that preparations had been made for flight. The other trunk was
+only partly packed, and was not locked. This I opened and searched. At
+the top, in receptacles which must have been made expressly for them,
+were a number of works of art in bronze, ivory, and porcelain, which I
+should judge were very valuable. At the bottom of the trunk was a
+packet which I unfastened. It contained deeds and acceptances of
+various kinds, some signed by Lord Wharton and Lord Fairfax, also some
+jewels answering to the description of those which were obtained from
+Lady Wharton by fraud at Bournemouth. By the time I had made this
+cursory examination Mr. Death was sufficiently recovered to be brought
+to the court with his daughter Gracie. I left two constables in charge
+of the house, and hastened here at once.&quot; Mr. Pallaret (to the
+magistrates): &quot;Upon the evidence presented to you I now apply for the
+discharge of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;Has the counsel for the Crown anything to say?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Marlow: &quot;I offer no opposition. There were circumstances of grave
+suspicion against the accused which warranted their arrest, but the
+light thrown upon the case appears to leave no doubt of their
+innocence.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Mr. Pallaret: &quot;I thank my learned friend.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The Magistrate: &quot;The accused are discharged.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Florence and Aunt Rob rose from their seats in joyful agitation, the
+tears streaming from their eyes, and their arms stretched forth to
+embrace the young men, whose progress was impeded by the throng of
+sympathising spectators eager to shake hands with them. In the midst
+of the confusion the piercing voice of the French detective, Joseph
+Pitou, was heard, calling for a doctor. A sudden hush fell upon the
+Court, and all eyes were turned upon the detective, who had resumed
+his place behind Dr. Pye. Upon leaving the witness box Detective
+Lambert had stepped to the side of Dr. Vinsen, and had laid his hand
+upon the miscreant's arm. Detected, and in the power of the law, the
+wretch now stood in an attitude of abject fear.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">One of the spectators recalled that while Detective Lambert was giving
+his evidence he noticed that Dr. Pye gave a sudden start, and that a
+moment or two afterwards he shuddered and drooped his head. He
+ascribed this to the agitation caused by the revelations that were
+being made.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;A doctor--a doctor!&quot; screamed Joseph Pitou.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The physician who had been attending Abel Death and Gracie pushed his
+way with difficulty to the French detective, and raised Dr. Pye's
+head. There was a faint smile on his lips, expressive both of triumph
+and contempt.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well? Well?&quot; cried Joseph Pitou to the doctor.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">The physician unclasped the silent man's fingers, and took from his
+hand a small bronze instrument in the shape of a ball. A pressure on
+one end of this ball released three needles, still slightly damp with
+the liquid which had flowed to the points. With a grave look the
+physician smelt the liquid, and, with his hand upraised for silence,
+placed his ear to the heart of the man. An examination of his wrist
+showed several minute punctures, caused by the needles. In this way
+the deadly poison had been injected into his veins.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Well, well?&quot; cried Joseph Pitou again.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;He is dead,&quot; the physician replied.</p>
+<br>
+
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * *</h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">Despite this tragic incident there was a scene of unparallelled
+enthusiasm when the principal actors in the day's proceedings were
+leaving the Court. The news had spread with the rapidity of lightning,
+and crowds of people flocked to the spot; it was with difficulty the
+police kept the approaches from being congested. As regards Gracie the
+enthusiasm assumed the proportions of an ovation. Cheers were raised
+for her, men and women stood on tiptoe to obtain a glimpse of her.
+Lady Wharton stooped and kissed her, and pressed a bank note into her
+hand. Gracie lifted her eyes gratefully, and gave the note to her
+mother. Aunt Rob and Florence, the happy tears still in their eyes,
+with Uncle Rob and Reginald and Dick, fluttered about her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Will you come home with us, Gracie?&quot; asked Aunt Rob, with a tender
+caress. &quot;And you, Mr. and Mrs. Death?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;No, thank you, ma'am,&quot; said Mrs. Death. &quot;We must go to our little
+ones.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;They haven't seen father for ever so long, ma'am,&quot; added Gracie. &quot;Did
+they ask for me, mother?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Yes, my darling, every day, over and over again. How glad they'll be!
+How happy and grateful I am!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I will take you home in my carriage,&quot; said Lady Wharton, and then
+energetically to her brother, &quot;Fairfax, what <i>do</i> you think of her?&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Little brick,&quot; said Lord Fairfax.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Lady Wharton turned to the men and women who were pressing round them.
+&quot;Do keep off, good people, and let the child have air. You'll be the
+death of her with your kindness.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dick!&quot; said Gracie, putting her hand in his.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God bless you, Gracie!&quot; he said, kissing her.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'll come and see us, Dick.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;I am coming to-night, Gracie.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">With her arms round his neck he carried her to the carriage.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">A beautiful light shone in her eyes.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXV.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_65" href="#div1Ref_65">FROM &quot;THE LITTLE BUSY BEE.&quot;</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day,
+where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments of
+this monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A full
+report of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge the
+masters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable and
+extraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time nor
+the space for a careful consideration of all the features of this
+Mystery-murder--no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of the
+child-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with the
+son of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilest
+conspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully into
+all the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementing
+the report of the police court proceedings and incidents by such
+further particulars as have come to our knowledge.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before the
+magistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to make
+confession, with the view of showing that he was not the actual
+perpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon this
+rumour, confident that justice will be done.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were found
+the brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notorious
+criminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult to
+speak; from the little that is known of it a strange study is
+presented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments,
+it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the science
+of alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be,
+is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, to
+which mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic,
+and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy once
+acknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in the
+world dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears to
+have been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regarded
+even the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionary
+ends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to be
+deplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate his
+crimes on the scaffold.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeter
+and more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this we
+but echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when she
+issued from the police court that the people would have carried her
+through the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, and
+she and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton's
+carriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay our
+tribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities she
+displayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family from
+poverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating our
+wishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in our
+to-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, their
+contributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign.
+We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of five
+pounds.&quot;</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>CHAPTER LXVI.</h3>
+
+<h4><a name="div1_66" href="#div1Ref_66">JOY.</a></h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was joy almost too great for utterance in two London homes that
+night. After partaking of a wonderful meal provided by Lady Wharton,
+Gracie's little brothers and sisters had the treat of sitting up late
+to look at father, who, weak as he was, would not go to bed, but
+reclined in an armchair lent by a sympathising neighbour--ah, how
+sweet and beautiful is the kindness of the poor to the poor!--and with
+Gracie's hand in his, gazed with gratitude upon the dear ones to whom
+he had been almost miraculously restored. It seemed as if the dark
+clouds which had hung for so many weary years over his life had
+vanished, and that there lay before him the sure promise of better
+times. Lady Wharton had asked him if he would not like to live in the
+country with his wife and children. There was, she said, a cottage
+large enough for them all, and a garden, and she offered to find
+employment on her estate for the poor London clerk. A vision of
+paradise--fairy scenes, with good food, and decent clothes, and
+flowers, and grass, and trees, and heaven knows what wonders. In fancy
+they heard the birds singing, and saw the white lambs in the meadows.
+But nothing was settled, it was only talked about.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;And if you don't care to live in the country,&quot; said the kind-hearted
+lady before she left them, &quot;we'll find something for you here in
+London.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Then, with a silver shilling to each of the children, she and her
+brother bade them a merry good night. The treasure was now hidden in
+six little hot palms, which every now and then were opened just wide
+enough for a peep--to make sure that it had not spread its wings and
+flown away.</p>
+<br>
+
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * *</h4>
+<br>
+
+<p class="normal">There was a prayer in the hearts of Aunt Rob's family as they sat
+round the tea table, and joyful tears that would not be repressed. For
+here was Aunt Rob singing and crying at the same time, and breaking
+down, and kissing Florence and Reginald and Dick and Uncle Rob, and
+then singing again with a happy sob in her throat, and saying in the
+midst of it all.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Oh, Dick, Dick, how shall we ever repay you!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">If Gracie was the heroine in her humble home, he was the hero in
+Aunt Rob's, but both of them were inclined to rebel against this
+hero-worship, and made little of what they had done.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Certain things had been discussed, and certain plans laid, by Aunt
+Rob's family, which needed to be carried out that night, and carried
+out they were. At eight o'clock they walked up the stairs in Draper's
+Mews, and being admitted were gladly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Death
+and the children. Not because of the store of food and wine and
+jellies they brought with them, but genuinely for their own sakes.
+Where they all found room to sit is one of those wonders which are
+never to be explained, but find room they did, and they talked and
+talked, and the children listened and listened, and Gracie sat by
+Dick's side on the poor bed, and wine was drunk by the elder people
+and tasted by the younger, and Abel Death's eyes brightened, and Dick,
+suddenly recollecting, pulled out a bag of brandyballs, which he gave
+to the youngsters. And then Reginald put a piece of paper into
+Gracie's hand.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;What is it?&quot; she asked, and looking at it, trembled so that she had
+to hold Dick tight. &quot;Mother--father--look!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;It will be paid at the bank to-morrow,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;Dick will go
+with you to get the money.&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;Two--hundred--pounds!&quot; gasped Gracie.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;For finding Mr. Abel Death,&quot; said Reginald. &quot;And, oh, Gracie, how
+thankful I am to pay it!&quot;</p>
+
+<p class="normal">Gracie hid her face on Dick's breast. When she raised her head there
+were no tears in her eyes, but the same beautiful light in them that
+Dick had seen once before that day.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;You'll be all right now, father,&quot; she said, giving him the cheque.</p>
+
+<p class="normal">&quot;God is very good to us!&quot; murmured Mrs. Death, and then all the
+foolish women in the room began to sob.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<p class="center"><b>FOOTNOTE</b></p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<p class="continue"><a name="fn_01" href="#fnRef_01">Footnote 1</a>: See pages 97, 98.--<span class="sc">Author</span>.</p>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+<br>
+<br>
+<h3>THE END.</h3>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+<h4 style="letter-spacing:5pt">* * * * * * * * *</h4>
+
+<h5><i>Printed by Hazell, Watson, &amp; Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
+England</i>.</h5>
+<br>
+<br>
+<br>
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+<pre>
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
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+</pre>
+
+</body>
+</html>
+
+
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+++ b/43198.txt
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most
+other parts of the world 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.  If you are not located in the United States, you'll have
+to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook.
+
+
+
+Title: Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+       A Mystery
+
+Author: B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+Release Date: July 12, 2013 [EBook #43198]
+Last Updated: August 16, 2015
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Charles Bowen from page images provided by
+Google Books. (New York Public Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcriber's Notes:
+
+     1. Page scan provided by:
+        Google Books: http://books.google.com/books?id=FwQoAAAAMAAJ
+        (New York Public Library)
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             SAMUEL BOYD
+
+                         OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE
+
+                             _A MYSTERY_
+
+
+
+
+                           By B. L. FARJEON
+                     Author of "The Iron-Master"
+
+
+
+
+
+                              _NEW YORK_
+                      NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
+                               _LONDON_
+                          HUTCHINSON AND CO.
+                                 1899
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
+_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, London and Aylesbury, England_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                              CONTENTS.
+
+                           *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+     CHAP.
+
+         I. ABEL DEATH AT WORK.
+
+        II. SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.
+
+       III. A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.
+
+        IV. SILENCE REIGNS.
+
+         V. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.
+
+        VI. IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.
+
+       VII. IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.
+
+      VIII. AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A
+            PRINCE.
+
+        IX. THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.
+
+         X. UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.
+
+        XI. DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.
+
+       XII. DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE SERVICE OF
+            SAMUEL BOYD.
+
+      XIII. A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.
+
+       XIV. THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND PICKED UP IN
+            CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+        XV. DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.
+
+       XVI. LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.
+
+      XVII. THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.
+
+     XVIII. DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.
+
+       XIX. DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+            OPERATIONS.
+
+        XX. DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+       XXI. THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.
+
+      XXII. DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE WORD.
+
+     XXIII. FLORENCE AND REGINALD.
+
+      XXIV. DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.
+
+       XXV. LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.
+
+      XXVI. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.
+
+     XXVII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.
+
+    XXVIII. THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.
+
+      XXIX. A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.
+
+       XXX. REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.
+
+      XXXI. SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+     XXXII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XXXIII. SCENES IN COURT.
+
+     XXXIV. GATHERING CLOUDS.
+
+      XXXV. LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.
+
+     XXXVI. THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XXXVII. DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.
+
+   XXXVIII. DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+            IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.
+
+     XXXIX. GRACE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+        XL. THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.
+
+       XLI. HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.
+
+      XLII. A FAMILY COUNCIL.
+
+     XLIII. AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.
+
+      XLIV. IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE.
+
+       XLV. CROSS PURPOSES.
+
+      XLVI. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION OF THE
+            INQUEST.
+
+     XLVII. "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+    XLVIII. THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.
+
+      XLIX. LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.
+
+         L. EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.
+
+        LI. A DEAD LOCK.
+
+       LII. ARRESTED FOR MURDER.
+
+      LIII. GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.
+
+       LIV. EXTRACTS FROM "THE BUSY BEE" OF FRIDAY, THE 15TH OF MARCH,
+            1896.
+
+        LV. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.
+
+       LVI. EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT, DETECTIVE
+            OFFICER.
+
+      LVII. DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.
+
+     LVIII. THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.
+
+       LIX. CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
+
+        LX. FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.
+
+       LXI. FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF THURSDAY, MARCH 21ST.
+
+      LXII. AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.
+
+     LXIII. CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.
+
+      LXIV. A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.
+
+       LXV. FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."
+
+      LXVI. JOY.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+                             SAMUEL BOYD
+                         OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+                              *  *  *  *
+                             _A MYSTERY_.
+                              *  *  *  *
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER I.
+
+                         ABEL DEATH AT WORK.
+
+
+At six o'clock in the evening of the first day of March, in the year
+of Grace, 1898, Abel Death, a man of middle age, with a face
+appropriate to his name--which should never be given to any living
+human being--was sitting at his desk, employed in the task of writing
+the last of a number of letters, in accordance with the instructions
+of his employer, Mr. Samuel Boyd, of No. 6, Catchpole Square, in the
+North district of London. The letters all referred to Money: to Money
+due for principal and interest, and to warnings and threats of what
+would be done in case prompt payment was not made at such and such an
+hour on such and such a day. Uncompromising and relentless to the
+point of cruelty, debtors were told in plain terms that ruin was their
+portion if Mr. Boyd's demands were not complied with.
+
+Abel Death appeared to be just the kind of man for the task he was
+executing, being hollow cheeked and sunken eyed; his hands were long
+and lean, his movements eager and restless. Clad in shabby and badly
+fitting clothes, he did not belie the position he occupied, that of an
+ill paid drudge working long hours for a hard taskmaster.
+
+The room in which he sat, and in which his daily duties were
+performed, could scarcely be called an office. From the number of
+singular articles it contained it might have been a curiosity shop, or
+the store-room of a dealer in the miscellaneous goods of the earth to
+whose net everything that presented itself was more or less marketable
+fish. Here was a massive safe fast bedded in the wall and securely
+locked; here a grand piano, locked; here weapons and armour of all
+nations, and pictures in which lay dumb stories of fruitless genius
+and disappointed ambition; here pieces of valuable china and
+_bric-A -brac_; here some dozens of wine of a rare vintage; here
+hangings of old tapestry; here (the oddest feature in the
+heterogeneous collection) a waxwork figure, holding in its
+outstretched hand a cane stick of the reign of Charles the Second;
+and, scattered in all directions, but still with some kind of method
+in the order of their disposal, a great variety of other oddments: all
+taken for debt, and all representing, in different degrees, despairing
+hopes and reckless extravagance and prodigality which had come to a
+bad end.
+
+The apartment was large and lofty, with panelled walls and doors of
+oak. The ceiling was covered with paintings of flying angels, and
+nymphs, and festive landscape-scenes after the style of Watteau,
+barely discernible through the accumulated dust of years; the mantel
+and fireplace were richly carved in many a quaint and curious device,
+the beauty of which was defaced by smoke and ill usage and neglect.
+The house itself was very old, and these evidences of decay forcibly
+illustrated how low it had fallen from its once high estate. For
+assuredly in years long since passed by it had been inhabited by
+persons of wealth and fashion and good taste. Time was, indeed, when
+these walls resounded to gay music and revelry, when satin-slippered
+feet glided over the polished floor, and bright eyes smiled, and bold
+lips murmured into beauty's ears. Here shone the sunny aspects of
+life; here gladness reigned; here all the luxurious ways of fortune's
+favourites were in their outward show at their best and bravest.
+Nothing of this was apparent now. The men and women who had trod these
+flowery paths were dust and ashes, and the dwelling was the abode of
+one who held fashion and good taste in contemptuous disregard, and
+whose principal aim in life was the driving of hard bargains and the
+making of money.
+
+Having finished the last letter Abel Death descended from his stool to
+stretch and refresh himself. From the pocket of a threadbare coat
+which hung upon a nail he took a paper containing a couple of
+sandwiches, and cast a longing look at the bottles of wine, a thirsty
+movement of his lips betokening the nature of his thoughts. But he did
+not venture to lay his hand upon them, knowing full well that strict
+account was kept, and that if he appropriated but a single bottle the
+offence would be detected the moment his employer entered; so he took
+his fate in his hands by extracting from his coat a twisted paper of
+tea and another twisted paper of brown sugar which he emptied into a
+teapot. A very small fire was burning, and he stood and watched the
+boiling of a tiny kettle of water. As he poured the water into the
+teapot he heard a knock at the street door, which he did not take the
+trouble to answer.
+
+"A trap," he muttered, pouring the tea into a chipped cup. "No, no,
+Mr. Boyd. You don't get me to open the door for you."
+
+He suspected a ruse. He had received instructions not to answer a
+knock, nor to admit any person into the house during Mr. Boyd's
+absence, and the conditions of his engagement were strict and onerous,
+the most trifling transgression of the rules laid down being visited
+with a fine. When, therefore, the knock was repeated a second time he
+shook his head with a smile, and proceeded with his scanty meal.
+
+It did not take him long to get to the end of it; and presently, when
+he heard the opening and the shutting of the street door, followed by
+steps on the stairs, he mounted to his stool, and bent his head over
+the books.
+
+"Is that you, Mr. Death?"
+
+He almost fell off his stool, for it was not the voice he expected to
+hear.
+
+A young man of gentlemanly appearance confronted him with an
+ingenuous, open countenance; with an honest eye and a graceful manner.
+In the teeth of these advantages there was an expression of anxiety on
+his face which denoted that his errand was one upon which grave issues
+depended.
+
+"You, Mr. Reginald!" exclaimed Abel Death, staring open mouthed at the
+visitor.
+
+"As you see, Mr. Death," replied Mr. Reginald. "You are still in the
+old place."
+
+"Yes, Mr. Reginald, yes, still in the old place."
+
+Mr. Reginald's eyes travelled round the room. "Where's my father?" he
+asked.
+
+Abel Death answered in Irish fashion.
+
+"How did you get in?"
+
+Mr. Reginald held up a key.
+
+"You don't mean to say----" stammered Abel Death.
+
+"That I stole it?" said Mr. Reginald. "No. It is the old key which I
+took away with me when I left this house----"
+
+"For ever," interposed Abel Death.
+
+"Not exactly, or I should not be here now."
+
+"That is what he told me."
+
+"That is what he told _me_."
+
+"His word is law in this house, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"We will not discuss the subject. I ask you again, where is my
+father?"
+
+"Out."
+
+"When will he be back?"
+
+"I don't know--I can't tell you. He has his ways. He likes to leave
+people in uncertainty."
+
+"Is he well?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Reginald. As well as ever. There is no change in him--no
+change!" He said this in the tone of a man who would not have grieved
+at a change for the worse in his employer's health.
+
+Mr. Reginald drew a silver watch from his pocket. "It is six o'clock.
+My time is my own. I will wait."
+
+"I earnestly beg you not to, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"It would be difficult for me to get another situation."
+
+"I understand. I have no wish to injure you. I will call later."
+
+"I should not advise you. Earnestly, I should not advise you."
+
+"I don't ask your advice. I must see him, I tell you. I intend to see
+him."
+
+"Then I give it up. I am sorry you have come down in the world, Mr.
+Reginald."
+
+The young man looked at the clerk with a curious contraction of his
+brows. "How do you arrive at that conclusion?"
+
+Abel Death tapped his waistcoat pocket. "It used to be a gold one."
+
+"Now I call that clever of you," said Mr. Reginald, half merrily, half
+lugubriously, "but _your_ lines have not been cast in pleasant places;
+you should know something of the process."
+
+"I do," said Abel Death, in a dismal tone.
+
+"If the watch I now wear is an indication of my having come down in
+the world, why, then, I _have_ had a tumble. Am I interrupting your
+work?"
+
+"I have the books to make up."
+
+"I'll leave you to them. Would it be unfair to ask you to tell my
+father that I will call again at ten o'clock? He is sure to be
+disengaged at that hour."
+
+"Very unfair, Mr. Reginald. I wouldn't venture to tell him that I'd
+seen you."
+
+"In that case I'll not trouble you."
+
+"And if you do call again, Mr. Reginald, I beg you, as a particular
+favour, not to mention your present visit."
+
+"You have my promise." He turned to go, but paused to glance at the
+strange collection of goods in the room. "My father gets plenty of odd
+things about him. I see stories of wreckage in them."
+
+"Not our wreckage, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"No," said Mr. Reginald under his breath as he left the room, "other
+people's."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER II.
+
+               SAMUEL BOYD SETS A TRAP FOR HIS DRUDGE.
+
+
+Abel Death experienced a feeling of relief when he heard the street
+door slammed in token that Mr. Reginald was gone. Whatever his
+thoughts may have been with reference to that young gentleman he did
+not give audible utterance to them, but an occasional shake of his
+head as he worked at the books, and an occasional pause during which
+he rested his chin upon the palm of his hand in reflection, were an
+evidence that though Mr. Reginald was out of sight he was not out of
+mind. At first he worked rapidly to make up for lost time, but at the
+end of an hour or so his pen travelled more slowly over the paper, his
+task being nearly completed. He had lighted two candles stuck in
+common tin candlesticks, and had pulled down the blind, for night was
+coming on. The feeble glimmer of these candles, which were long and
+thin, threw light only upon the desk at which he was working; the
+distant spaces in the room were in deep shadow, and an occasional
+shifting of a candle seemingly imbued many of the objects by which he
+was surrounded with a weird and fitful life. This was especially the
+case with the wax figure, which was that of a Chinaman who might have
+come straight from the Chamber of Horrors, so ghastly was its face in
+this dim light. Being not quite firm on its legs any hurried movement
+in its direction caused it to quiver as though it were set on wires;
+and once, when Abel Death threw a heavy ledger from his desk on to the
+table, the oscillation of the figure was sufficiently fantastic to
+have engendered the fancy that it was preparing to leap upon the
+living man and do him violence. Neither Mr. Samuel Boyd nor Abel Death
+could have informed a curious inquirer who the figure was intended to
+represent. It came from the house of a modeller in wax, to whom Mr.
+Boyd had lent a small sum of money, and who, when he was pressed for
+payment, himself brought it to Catchpole Square as the only asset he
+could offer in discharge of the debt. "It is all I possess," said the
+man mournfully, who had hoped to soften the heart of his creditor by
+his tale of distress. "Then I'll take it," said Mr. Samuel Boyd.
+"You'd take my blood, I believe," cried the man savagely. "I would,"
+retorted Mr. Boyd, "if there was a market for it." "Keep it, then,"
+said the man, flinging himself from the room. "It's brought me nothing
+but bad luck all the time I have been at work on it. May it bring the
+same to you!" Mr. Boyd laughed; he did not believe in omens, nor in
+sentiment, nor in mercy to any person in his debt. He believed only in
+Money.
+
+The day's work over, Abel Death sat awhile so deep in thought and so
+still and quiet that he might have been taken for one of the inanimate
+objects in this strangely furnished apartment. He had removed the
+candles from the desk to the table, where they flickered in the
+draught of a broken window, into which some rags had been thrust to
+keep out the wind. Within the radius of the flickering light the
+shadows on the walls and ceiling grew more weird and grotesque, each
+gust of air creating insubstantial forms and shapes as monstrous as
+the fancies of a madman's brain. Catchpole Square was a blind
+thoroughfare--being, as has been elsewhere described, like a bottle
+with a very narrow neck to it--and was therefore undisturbed by the
+tumult of the city's streets; and the prevailing silence, in which
+there was something deathly, was broken only by the sobbing and
+moaning of the rising wind which, having got into the Square, was
+making despairing efforts to get out. These sounds were in unison with
+the spectral life within the house, which seemed to find
+interpretation in the mystic voices of the air. It might have been so
+in very truth, for what know we of the forces of the invisible world
+through which we move and play our parts in the march from the cradle
+to the grave? Unfathomable mystery encompasses and mocks us, and no
+man can foretell at what moment he may be struck down and all his
+castles overturned, and all his plans for good or evil destroyed.
+
+Abel Death started to his feet. A stealthy step was on the stairs. The
+man coming up paused three or four times either to get his breath or
+for some other purpose; and presently he entered the room.
+
+Mr. Samuel Boyd was a tall man, and bore a close resemblance to his
+son in certain expressions of countenance and in certain little
+mannerisms of gesture which in the younger man were indications of an
+open-hearted nature, and in the elder of a nature dominated by craft
+and cunning.
+
+"You're back in time, sir," said Abel Death, in a cringing tone.
+
+Mr. Boyd made no immediate reply, being employed in looking
+distrustfully around to convince himself that nothing had been removed
+or disturbed. Even when he was assured of this the look of distrust
+did not die out of his eyes.
+
+"Are the letters all written?" he inquired, seating himself at the
+table.
+
+"They are, sir."
+
+"Have you posted up the books?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Everything is done."
+
+"Has any one called?"
+
+"No one, sir," promptly replied Abel Death.
+
+"Any knocks at the street door?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You lie! There was a letter in the box."
+
+Abel Death's lips shaped themselves into the word, "Beast!"
+
+"What did you say?" demanded Mr. Boyd, upon whom no movement on the
+part of his servant, however slight, was lost.
+
+"I was going to say that the postman was no business of mine."
+
+"You are getting too clever, Abel Death--too clever, too clever! The
+men I employ must do their work without spying, without blabbing,
+without lying."
+
+"You have never found me unfaithful."
+
+"I have only your word for it. When did you know me take a man's
+word?"
+
+"Never, sir."
+
+"And you never will. So--you did not go down to the postman when he
+knocked?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"And you have not been out of the house during my absence?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Nor out of this room?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Ah! Is that so--is that so? You have your office coat on, and your
+office slippers. Had you not better change them?"
+
+"I was going to do so, sir," said Abel Death. Mr. Boyd's keen eyes
+were upon him while he made the change. "May I hope, sir, that you
+will grant the request you kindly promised to consider? It may be a
+matter of life or death, it may indeed. It means so much to me--so
+much! I humbly beg you, sir, to grant it."
+
+"Let me see. You asked me for a loan."
+
+"A small loan, sir, of ten pounds. I have trouble and sickness at
+home, I am sorry to say."
+
+"It is inconceivable," said Mr. Boyd coldly, "that a man in regular
+employment should need a loan unless it is for the gratification of
+some unwarrantable extravagance. Your wages are paid regularly, I
+believe."
+
+"Yes, sir. I don't complain, but it is not an easy task to keep a wife
+and family on twenty-two shillings a week. I don't know how it is,"
+said Abel Death, rubbing his forehead as though he were endeavouring
+to rub some problem out of it, or some better understanding of a
+social difficulty into it, "but when Saturday comes round we have
+never a sixpence left."
+
+"Very likely. It is the old story of improvidence. Thrift, Abel,
+thrift. That is the lesson the poor have to learn, and never will
+learn."
+
+"Ten pounds, sir, only ten pounds," implored Abel Death.
+
+"Only ten pounds!" exclaimed Mr. Boyd. "Listen to him. He calls ten
+pounds a small sum. Why, it is to millions of men a fortune!"
+
+"It is truly that to me, sir."
+
+"And if I lend it to you," said Mr. Boyd, with a sneering smile, "you
+will call down heaven's blessing upon me, you will remember me in your
+prayers?"
+
+"Yes, sir, yes," replied Abel Death confusedly.
+
+"There is the question of security, Abel."
+
+"I am a poor man, sir, but I will do anything you wish. I will give
+you a bill--I will sign any paper you write out--I will pay you any
+interest you like to charge. You can deduct five shillings from my
+wages every week till the debt is cancelled. I shall be eternally
+grateful to you, sir." His agitation was so great that he could not
+proceed.
+
+"Gratitude is no security," said Mr. Boyd, still with the sneering
+smile on his lips. "Prayers and heaven's blessing are no security. No
+business man would lend a shilling on them. They are not Property. You
+remarked a moment ago that I had never found you unfaithful. I will
+put it to the test. Let me see the slippers you have taken off."
+
+"My slippers, sir!" stammered Abel Death.
+
+"Your slippers. I wish to see them." Puzzled by the singular request,
+and with inward misgivings, Abel Death lifted the slippers from the
+floor. "Lay them on the table before me, soles upward."
+
+Ruefully wondering what connection there could possibly be between his
+frayed and worn slippers and the question of unfaithfulness which Mr.
+Boyd had raised, he obeyed the order. His wonder increased when Mr.
+Boyd proceeded to examine the soles through a magnifying glass.
+
+"That will do," said Mr. Boyd, leaning back in his chair. "You can
+pack them up with your office coat, and take them home with you."
+
+"But I shall want them to-morrow, sir."
+
+"Not in my office, Abel Death. I discharge you."
+
+"Sir!"
+
+"I discharge you. Here are your wages for a half week. You can claim
+no more. The conditions of your engagement with me were that in the
+event of the slightest violation of my orders you were to be
+immediately discharged without further notice."
+
+"In what way have I violated your orders, sir?" cried Abel Death,
+despairingly. "Good heavens! This will be the ruin of me!"
+
+"You have brought it on yourself. It is an ungrateful world, Abel, an
+ungrateful world. Robbery on all sides of us, treachery whichever way
+we turn. Do not send to me for a character; it will not assist you to
+obtain another situation." Abel Death gazed at the hard taskmaster in
+speechless consternation. "I have suspected you for some time past,
+Abel----I beg your pardon, you were about to speak."
+
+"I was not."
+
+"You were. Come, come--be honest, Abel, be honest. It is the best
+policy. I have found it so."
+
+"It was in my mind to say, sir," said Abel Death, in a shaking voice,
+"that you suspect everybody."
+
+"It is the only way to protect oneself from being robbed. Keep this
+axiom before you; it is as good as capital, and will return you good
+interest. Suspecting you as I have done I laid a trap for you this
+afternoon--a simple, artless trap. Observe this thin piece of brown
+paper, observe this little piece of wax which I place upon it. Any
+person treading on it will carry away with him on the sole of his shoe
+both the paper and the wax. Do you follow me?"
+
+"Yes, sir," said Abel Death, staring at the paper and moving his
+tongue over his dry lips.
+
+"Before leaving the house this afternoon," continued Mr. Boyd, "I
+deposited on the stairs eight very small pieces of this paper, each
+with a very small piece of wax on the top of it, and placed them on
+those parts of the stairs which a person coming up or going down would
+be most likely to tread. Is this quite clear to you?"
+
+"Quite clear, sir."
+
+"It is a singular thing, Abel, that upon the soles of your slippers I
+do not see one of those pieces of paper or any trace of wax."
+
+"It proves, sir," interposed Abel Death eagerly, "that I spoke the
+truth when I declared that I had not left the room during your
+absence, and that I did not go down the stairs."
+
+"But it does not prove, you dog, that no person came up the stairs
+during my absence!" Abel Death fell back, confounded. "Upon my return
+a few minutes ago I examined the stairs, and found only two of the
+eight pieces of paper I deposited there so carefully--so very
+carefully! Six pieces of the eight I placed there had affixed
+themselves to the soles of the shoes or boots worn by the person who
+entered this room while I was away. I asked you if any one had called.
+You answered no. It was a lie, a deliberate lie, a lie not to be
+explained away."
+
+"If you will listen to me, sir," said Abel Death, reduced to a state
+of abject fear, "I think it _can_ be explained away."
+
+"I am listening, Abel Death."
+
+"I made a mistake, sir--I confess it."
+
+"Oh, a mistake, and by such a clever man as you are!"
+
+"I am not clever, sir--far from it. Every man is liable to error. A
+person _has_ been in this room, but I did not open the door to him. He
+opened it himself."
+
+"What!" cried Mr. Boyd, starting from his chair in mingled anger and
+alarm.
+
+"Yes, sir, he opened it himself. How could I help that, sir--I ask
+you, how could I help that?"
+
+A few moments elapsed before Mr. Boyd spoke; and during the silence he
+took a revolver from a drawer, which he unlocked for the purpose. Then
+he said slowly, "Who was the man?"
+
+"Your son, sir, Mr. Reginald."
+
+"My son! He was forbidden the house!"
+
+"I can't help that, sir. He knocked three times at the street door,
+and bearing your instructions in mind I did not answer the knocks.
+When he came into the room I asked him how he had got in, and he
+produced the key he was in the habit of using when he lived here. He
+wanted to see you, and I told him you were not in. He said he would
+wait, and I begged him not to, because I knew you would be angry if
+you saw him here. Then he said he would call to see you later, and I
+begged him not to mention that he had been here; he gave me the
+promise and left the house. That is the whole truth of the matter,
+sir."
+
+"Why were you so anxious that this visit should be kept a secret from
+me?"
+
+"I feared you might suspect that we were in--in----" He could not hit
+upon the right word.
+
+"In collusion," said Mr. Boyd, supplying it in accordance with his
+humour to place the worst construction upon the interview. "In league
+to rob me. A fair and reasonable suspicion which the explanation I
+have dragged out of you does not remove. Have you anything more to
+say?"
+
+"Nothing more," replied Abel Death, in a hopeless tone.
+
+"Take up your money. You can go."
+
+"But you will withdraw the discharge, sir--I entreat you to withdraw
+it. Think what it means to me--what it means to my family! Starvation,
+sir, starvation!" He wrung his hands in despair.
+
+"You have lied deliberately to me. Go--go and starve!--and never set
+foot inside this house again."
+
+Convinced now that any farther appeal would be unavailing, the look of
+misery in Abel Death's face changed to one of fury. He made a step
+towards the man who had doomed him to ruin, and who, thus threatened,
+held the revolver straight before him, with his finger on the trigger.
+Muttering, "God help me!" Abel Death took up the few shillings which
+Mr. Boyd had placed upon the table, and backed out of the room,
+followed by his employer, still armed with the revolver, and holding a
+candle above his head. Thus they went down to the street door, which
+Abel Death slowly opened. But before he left the house he turned and
+said,
+
+"Do you believe in God?"
+
+"No," snarled Mr. Boyd, "I believe in nothing!"
+
+"Men have been struck dead for less," said Abel Death, pointing a
+shaking finger at him. "Remember that, Samuel Boyd!" And went his way
+with misery in his heart.
+
+Mr. Boyd, undisturbed and with a smile of self-approval on his lips,
+closed the door and put up the chain. Then, with deliberate steps, and
+with no misgivings, he returned to his room.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER III.
+
+             A LADY OF FASHION PAYS SAMUEL BOYD A VISIT.
+
+
+A close and crafty face, masking a soul which knew no mercy and gave
+none. The grave holds its secrets, and holds them no less securely
+than Mr. Samuel Boyd, in his outward presentment to his fellow man,
+believed he held his. Whether the pursuit of pleasure for the
+delights--be they fair or foul--that pleasure brings, or the pursuit
+of wealth for the power it confers, was the dominant principle of this
+man's life, no human being could truthfully say, for no human being
+was admitted into his confidence. But one thing was certain. By
+whatever motive he may have been guided he held his way with absolute
+dependence on his own resources to triumph easily over every obstacle
+that might present itself. As to the manner in which these triumphs
+were obtained it mattered little to him whether he merely brushed
+aside the persons who opposed him, or trampled them into the dust.
+Their mortification, their sufferings, their destruction, concerned
+him not and did not trouble him. There are men who, in the
+contemplated execution of a crime, or in the pursuance of a base
+desire, listen to the voice of conscience before it is too late. Not
+so Mr. Samuel Boyd. He was harassed by no troubled dreams, by no weak
+fears of consequences, by no whisperings of an inconvenient
+conscience, by no spiritual warnings of Divine punishment for sinful
+deeds. For him, the entire range of the moral affections and of moral
+sentiments and conditions was expressed in one word: Self. It was for
+Self he lived and for Self alone.
+
+Such being the man it was not to be supposed that he was in any way
+affected by the sentence he had pronounced upon Abel Death, or that he
+gave a moment's thought to the poor clerk who was trudging home almost
+broken-hearted at the loss even of the miserable wage he received for
+duties faithfully performed.
+
+The letter he had taken from the letter box was from a lady who stated
+that she would call upon him at eight o'clock this evening. He had not
+long to wait, for by his watch he saw that it wanted but two minutes
+to eight; and punctually to the hour there came a rat-tat-tat at the
+street door.
+
+With no indication of haste he went down, and laughed slyly to himself
+when the knocking was repeated, more impatiently and peremptorily the
+second time than the first. He drew the door ajar leisurely, still
+keeping it on the chain.
+
+"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" he inquired.
+
+"Who wants Samuel Boyd?" answered a lady's voice. "Upon my word! To
+keep a lady waiting in such a dreadful place as this, the entrance to
+which is so narrow that a carriage can't get into it! Open the door at
+once, man, and let me in!"
+
+"As quickly as I can, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, fumbling at the chain.
+"It is Lady Wharton, is it not?"
+
+"Who else should it be, pray?" replied the lady. "And if Lady Wharton
+had known what kind of thoroughfare this was she would have thought
+twice before she'd have ventured into it." There was nothing querulous
+in the voice; it was hearty and bluff, with a cheerful ring in it very
+pleasant to the ear.
+
+"Might a man so humble as Samuel Boyd inquire whether it is too late
+now for Lady Wharton to think better of it?" asked Mr. Boyd,
+continuing to fumble at the chain.
+
+"Man alive! Of course it is. Oh, you've got it opened at last. Well,
+that's a blessing. If it takes as long to get out of the house as to
+get in I sha'n't be home till midnight. Remain where you are, John,
+and wait for me. If I don't make my appearance before ten o'clock
+shout for help at the top of your voice." These last words were
+addressed to a footman, who, holding a large green umbrella over her
+ladyship's head, had accompanied her from her carriage to the door of
+Mr. Boyd's dwelling. "John is my confidential man," she was now
+addressing Mr. Boyd. "I don't put my trust in women. They're a pack of
+artful, designing creatures. What men see in us to marry us passes my
+comprehension. If I were a man I'd want a sackfull of diamonds before
+I'd marry the handsomest among them."
+
+"If your ladyship will kindly follow me," said Mr. Boyd, ascending the
+stairs.
+
+"Bless my soul!" she exclaimed. "The passage is as dark as a railway
+tunnel, and that parody of a candle in your hand makes matters worse.
+The stairs are safe, I hope? There are no trapdoors in them through
+which a defenceless woman might suddenly disappear?" These words were
+accompanied with a ringing laugh which awoke the echoes in the almost
+deserted house.
+
+"They are quite safe, my lady, quite safe. Permit me to welcome you to
+my poor abode."
+
+They were now in the room, around which Lady Wharton stared in
+amazement. She was a large-framed woman, well proportioned and with a
+perfect figure. There was a hearty good nature in her face which
+matched well with her brisk voice. Her eyes were bright, her movements
+quick and decided. Eminently a woman of management, of kindly heart,
+and one whose healthy physique and amiable disposition guided her to
+take a cheerful view of difficulties.
+
+"Heaven and earth, Mr. Boyd!" she exclaimed. "This is the oddest abode
+a man of means could select." Here she caught sight of the wax figure
+of the Chinaman, which caused her to retreat a step or two and to give
+utterance to a little scream.
+
+"Don't be frightened, my lady, he's only wax. I took him for a debt;
+he was better than nothing, if only for melting down. All these things
+have been taken for debt. That is the way we are robbed; and the law
+gives us no redress, no redress."
+
+"Poor Mr. Boyd!" said Lady Wharton, with twinkling eyes "How very sad!
+Shall I lend you a five pound note?"
+
+"I should be very grateful, my lady."
+
+She burst into a merry laugh. "Singular creature! Shall we proceed to
+business?"
+
+"Yes, my lady. Time is money. You will be comfortable in this chair."
+
+A strange contrast did they present as they sat on opposite sides of
+the table, the crafty, cringing face of the man looking into the
+cheery, good-humoured face of the lady.
+
+"Now, Mr. Boyd, I am going to be quite frank with you." She placed her
+satchel on the table, and took some papers from it. "My husband owes
+you a large sum of money. Look over these figures and tell me if they
+are correct."
+
+"Quite correct, my lady, but calculated only up to the last day of
+February, which was yesterday. One day's interest has to be added if
+you are prepared to pay to-night. Strictly speaking, it is two days'
+interest, it being now past the hour of business."
+
+"Of course you know I am not prepared to pay to-night, and of course
+you know that I have come in the place of my husband because in
+matters of business he is a mere child."
+
+"I have not found him so, my lady," said Samuel Boyd. "In my
+experience of his lordship I have seen nothing in him to cause me to
+think he is weak-minded. He came to me to borrow money, and I lent it
+to him on bills signed in his name. It was a risk, and I took it."
+
+"Very well, Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, cheerfully. "We have not met
+to contradict each other, or to raise up difficulties, but to come to
+such an arrangement as may be agreeable to you."
+
+"If your ladyship pleases," said Mr. Boyd.
+
+"At the same time," she continued, "I wish to state how far my
+understanding went, when, Lord Wharton being ill in bed, I opened up a
+correspondence with you. I am very fond of my husband, Mr. Boyd."
+
+"His lordship is to be envied."
+
+"Indeed I think he is," said Lady Wharton, with a little laugh, "and I
+am to be envied, too, for having a husband so amiably inclined. But he
+is altogether too easy and careless in money matters; when he wishes
+for a thing, he will promise anything, consent to anything, sign
+anything, so long as he gets it. He is really like a child in these
+matters, and having made up my mind that he was not to be worried, I
+opened a letter which you wrote to him, and I replied to it. Now, Mr.
+Boyd, it was from that letter that I learned, for the first time, that
+Lord Wharton was in your debt."
+
+"Indeed, my lady."
+
+"Yes, indeed. I was not astonished. Nothing that Lord Wharton does
+astonishes me. He can get through a great deal of money. So can I. He
+is extravagant. So am I. What are you to do, Mr. Boyd, when you have
+been brought up to it?"
+
+"Nothing but spend," said Samuel Boyd.
+
+"You are a man of sense. We can do nothing but spend--and between you
+and me, Mr. Boyd"--here she laughed long and heartily--"we _do_ spend.
+Why not, when we can afford it?"
+
+"Why not, indeed?" murmured Mr. Boyd, in ready acquiescence.
+
+"But rich as people may be they are sometimes in need of ready money,
+and that, I suppose, is where gentlemen of your profession come in.
+Having now, in a manner of speaking, cleared the ground, we can go on
+easily. There are bills coming due."
+
+"There are, my lady."
+
+"I asked you in a letter what they amounted to; you answered, twelve
+thousand pounds. Now, Mr. Boyd, I should not like you to think that I
+want to take advantage of you."
+
+"Thank you, my lady. I have been taken in so often that I am almost
+beginning to despair of human nature."
+
+"Don't, Mr. Boyd, don't. There is a great deal of good in human
+nature, and we can get a lot of fun out of life if we set about it the
+right way. I have consulted another person in this business, and he
+has advised me. My brother, Lord Fairfax. You have heard of him,
+perhaps. Yes? I thought you must; he is almost a celebrity, with his
+indolent and easy ways. It is in our blood; we object to be troubled.
+All we ask is that the world should go round as usual, and that our
+little wishes should be gratified. Lord Fairfax suggested that I
+should put the business into the hands of a lawyer." Mr. Boyd, with a
+scarcely perceptible motion, lifted his eyebrows. "I said, no. We have
+a rooted objection to lawyers in our family; they make your head ache.
+'Quite right,' said Lord Fairfax. 'Have nothing to do with lawyers.'
+He never disputes, Mr. Boyd. The moment you say a thing he agrees to
+it. Then he said, 'Find out how much it amounts to.' I wrote to you,
+and you told me. You also sent me some bills, for the purpose of doing
+away with the old obligations, and putting the whole of the business
+on a new footing. These bills were to be accepted by Lord Wharton, and
+you strongly urged me to get another responsible name at the back of
+them. Lord Wharton signed the bills when I put them before him. The
+dear man hardly as much as looked at them. Then I went to Lord
+Fairfax, and _he_ put his name on the back. _He_ hardly as much as
+looked at them. And to cut a long matter short, Mr. Boyd, I have
+brought them with me."
+
+She took them from her satchel, and handed them to Mr. Boyd, who
+examined them carefully, and jotted down figures on a piece of paper.
+Satisfactory as the transaction was to him no sign of satisfaction
+escaped him.
+
+"Are they in order, Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Yes, they appear to be in order. I am making a great sacrifice for
+you, my lady."
+
+"We are under a great obligation to you. And now, Mr. Boyd, for a
+little piece of business on my own account. I want a thousand pounds
+for my private purse."
+
+"A thousand pounds, my lady, a thousand pounds!" murmured Mr. Boyd.
+
+"I will _not_ worry Lord Wharton with my dressmaker's bill, and she
+has begged me to let her have something on account. There are also one
+or two other little bills I wish to pay. Don't be alarmed; I am going
+to give you security. I have been looking through my jewellery, and I
+found some things that have gone out of fashion. I will not sell them,
+but I am willing to deposit them with you. Here they are. Oblige me by
+looking over them. Some of the cases would not go into my satchel, so
+I took them all out, and wrapped them in paper. I hope you won't
+mind."
+
+"Not at all, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, opening the papers, which
+contained jewels of various kinds, bracelets, necklaces, ear-rings,
+brooches, and other gewgaws. Many of the precious stones were in old
+settings, and he saw at a glance that they were worth considerably
+more than the thousand pounds which this reckless lady of fashion
+wished to raise upon them. Among them were two ornaments of
+conspicuous beauty--a pearl necklace, and a device for the hair in the
+shape of a peacock's tail.
+
+"I am reposing a great confidence in you," said Lady Wharton. "The
+pearl necklace and the peacock's tail were presents from my
+father--they cost a great price, I believe--and I would not part with
+them for any consideration. In a few months I shall--shall--what is
+the word for it? Oh, yes, redeem them."
+
+"You don't want the thousand pounds immediately, my lady?" said Mr.
+Boyd.
+
+"My good man, I want it now, this minute."
+
+"Impossible, my lady. I could not get it together in less than five or
+six days. If that will suit you----"
+
+Lady Wharton beat an impatient tattoo on the table with the tips of
+her fingers. "Are you sure you could not get it earlier?"
+
+"Quite sure, my lady."
+
+"It _must_ suit me, then, but it is really very provoking. Lord
+Wharton is ordered into the country, and we are going to-morrow."
+
+"I can send you a cheque through the post."
+
+"I should prefer to receive it personally from you, and in bank notes.
+You can bring it to me in the country, I suppose?"
+
+"There will be no difficulty, my lady. To what part of the country?"
+
+"We are going to our place in Bournemouth, The Gables. We give a ball
+there every year on the 7th of March. Of course I may rely upon having
+the money before that date."
+
+"Pardon me a moment, my lady," said Mr. Boyd, pretending to make
+certain calculations on paper, and presently adding, "I can't
+positively promise, but you shall be sure to have it _on_ that date."
+
+"Oh, very well, very well," said Lady Wharton, "I see that I am
+expected to agree to everything. And now, Mr. Boyd, our business is
+over, I think. Bless my soul, how dismally the wind sounds in this
+house! If I don't get out of it quickly John will think I've been
+spirited away. Don't trouble to come down; one of your servants can
+see me to the door."
+
+"I keep no servants, my lady," he replied. "A charwoman comes when I
+send for her. That is my life."
+
+"Do you mean to tell me that you live here quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone, my lady, quite alone, and safer and more secure than if
+my house was full of servants."
+
+"Mr. Boyd," said Lady Wharton, tapping him lightly on the arm, "you
+should marry."
+
+"What did your ladyship say yourself about women when you entered the
+house," he answered slyly.
+
+She laughed heartily at this retort, and following him down the stairs
+as he led the way with a light, bade him good night at the street
+door.
+
+"John," she said to her confidential man as he conducted her to her
+carriage, "the house is like a grave."
+
+"I was thinking that myself, my lady," said John.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IV.
+
+                           SILENCE REIGNS.
+
+
+Was it indeed a grave, and were the phantom shapes thrown upon the
+walls and ceiling by the flickering light the phantoms of the dead
+that were buried there? How easy to imagine this--how easy to imagine
+that, animated by a spirit of revenge for past wrongs and injuries,
+they moved and shifted, and glided hither and thither, and took
+fantastic and monstrous form, for the purpose of striking terror into
+the heart of the enemy who had filled their lives with suffering and
+brought them to an untimely end!
+
+Silence reigned.
+
+Were those shapes and forms the only phantoms in the lonely house? Or,
+in the spaces that were unlighted--say in the passages and on the
+stairs leading to the room in which its owner transacted his business,
+and into another room in which he slept--were other phantoms moving,
+as dumb as they, as silent as they, with thoughts as murderous and
+with power more sure? This phantom, now, unseen by reason of the
+darkness, pausing with finger at its lips, all its senses merged in
+the sense of hearing as it listened for a sound to warn it that the
+time was not yet ripe? Had this phantom escaped from the lighted room
+in fear lest, were it visible to mortal eyes, its dread purpose would
+be frustrated, and that a frenzied cry ringing out upon the air, might
+reach some chance and aimless wanderer, and thus mar the murderous
+design lurking in its breast? Even of this the risk was small, for
+rarely indeed did any such wanderer find himself in Catchpole Square,
+or any man, who, being there without design, did not gladly and
+quickly grope his way out of it. The very guardians of the night
+avoided it, and contented themselves with the slightest and swiftest
+scrutiny, as of a place which bore an evil reputation and had best be
+left alone. It happened at odd times that some houseless and homeless
+vagrant, slinking in, curled himself up in a dark corner and dozed
+till daylight came, creeping away then with no feeling of gratitude
+for the shelter it had afforded him. Once a hapless child, sleeping
+there during a fierce snowstorm, had been found dead in the morning,
+covered with a white shroud. But that was long ago.
+
+But this one phantom was in the house--now pausing, now creeping
+slowly along, now pausing again, now crouching with its head against a
+panel, and so remaining for many dumb minutes. And another phantom was
+at its heels.
+
+And when the lights were out, and the rooms, like the stairs and
+passages, were in darkness and the master in his bed, they were still
+there. So stealthy were their movements that no sound proceeded from
+them; their breathing was so faint that it would scarcely have
+disturbed a wintry leaf.
+
+Silence reigned.
+
+The sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued. Could it have
+carried the news to the wider thoroughfares, trodden by men and women
+whose business or pleasure kept them out so late, what message would
+it have conveyed? In its whispering voices would the word MURDER have
+found a place?
+
+At no great distance from the Square stood Saint Michael's Church, its
+clock proclaiming the hour.
+
+Ten!
+
+Eleven!
+
+Twelve!
+
+How long these hours took to strike! A measured pause between each
+stroke, and in that pause the passing away of a life in the life of
+the great city, or the ushering in of one. This life at an end, this
+with a feeble cry at the journey before it.
+
+One o'clock!
+
+Samuel Boyd was asleep. No prayer on his lips, no prayer in his heart,
+before he retired to rest. He slept in peace, undisturbed by fear or
+remorse.
+
+Suddenly he awoke. His heart beat wildly, a cold perspiration broke
+out on his forehead.
+
+With a powerful hand pressed upon his mouth, and another at his
+throat, no man can cry aloud. But while strength remains he can gasp,
+and moan, and fight for dear life--and may struggle out of bed, still
+with the hand upon his mouth, and another at his throat--and may
+summon to his aid all the despairing forces of his body--nay, even
+while thus imprisoned, succeed in dragging his adversaries this way
+and that--and may in his agony prolong the execution of the ruthless
+purpose. Though not avert it.
+
+The door between the two rooms is open while this muffled struggle is
+going on. Furniture is overturned and displaced, tapestry torn from
+the walls, and smaller articles tossed in all directions. On the part
+of one of the men there is displayed a cold, cruel, relentless method
+in the execution of his design; on the part of the other a wild,
+despairing effort to obtain possession of a weapon. He succeeds. A
+pistol is in his hand.
+
+A shot rings out! Another!--and the wax figure of the Chinaman
+collapses into a chair with a bullet in its heart.
+
+Again Saint Michael's Church proclaims the hour.
+
+Two o'clock!
+
+Silence reigns.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V.
+
+          CONSTABLE APPLEBEE AND CONSTABLE POND FOREGATHER.
+
+
+In the course of the next few days the weather exhibited its vagaries
+in a more than usually astonishing fashion. On the night of the 1st of
+March the sobbing and the moaning of the wind continued till early
+morning, when it pleased the air to become mild and balmy, almost
+promising the advent of spring. A few bold buds awoke and peeped out
+of their little brown beds, and over the atmosphere hung a hazy veil
+of dim, delicious sapphire. On the following day this promise was
+destroyed, and another change took place; and on the night of the 5th
+a fog which had been overlooked in the early winter took its revenge
+for the neglect by enveloping the City of Unrest in a mist so dense
+that Mrs. Pond, in a conversation with Mrs. Applebee the next day was
+driven to the use of a familiar illustration.
+
+"If you'll believe me, Mrs. Applebee," she said, "it was that thick
+you could have cut it with a knife. I could hardly see my hand before
+me."
+
+"But what took you out in it, my dear?" inquired Mrs. Applebee.
+
+"I couldn't help thinking of Pond," replied Mrs. Pond, a young woman
+of two and twenty, whose wifely experiences were tame in comparison
+with those of Mrs. Applebee, the mother of eight, "trapesing up and
+down in the cold while I was setting before a blazing fire as
+comfortable as you please. 'A cup of hot coffee 'll put life in him,'
+says I to myself, and I was soon on my way outside with a bottleful
+tucked under my cloak. It took me a good hour to get to him."
+
+"And by that time the coffee was cold," Mrs. Applebee remarked.
+
+"No, it was just lukewarm. Thinking of Pond I cuddled it close; but I
+don't mind confessing I was almost giving him up."
+
+"How did you find him at last, my dear?"
+
+"I'll tell you a secret," said the young wife, with a little blush.
+Mrs. Applebee, who dearly loved a secret or anything mysterious,
+pricked up her ears. "When Pond was put on the night beat we agreed
+upon a signal. It was his idea; he's that clever you wouldn't
+believe."
+
+"May it ever continue," ejaculated Mrs. Applebee.
+
+"What?"
+
+"Your opinion of him."
+
+"Oh, it will," said Mrs. Pond, nodding her head confidently. "What
+Pond thinks of is a bird-call, and he buys two, and gives me one. 'If
+it should chance to happen,' says Pond, 'that you're my way--say about
+ten o'clock--when I'm on duty, just you give a soft blow. When I hear
+it out comes my bird-call, and I give a soft blow. Only one, Polly,
+because it might be noticed and against the regulations.' It does
+often chance to happen that I'm Pond's way on a dark night," added
+Mrs. Pond, with a sly look, "and I give a soft blow and he gives
+another. He says it's like company when he hears it, and he resooms
+his tread with a light heart. As for me, I go home as happy as happy
+can be. Thankful I was last night when Pond answered my call, and
+thankful _he_ was for the coffee. 'Polly,' he says, 'you're a angel.'"
+
+"How many kisses did he give you, my dear?"
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Applebee," said Mrs. Pond, archly, "against the regulations,
+you know."
+
+"I've heard of it being done," said Mrs. Applebee, pensively, "even by
+policemen on night duty. It was a dreadful night for our men to be
+out, but duty's duty and the pay's regular. It's a good thing you got
+home safe. Is your room let yet?"
+
+"No, the bill's still in the window. Twenty-five pounds is a lot to
+pay for a house, but Pond says, 'Don't you fret, Polly; we'll soon get
+a lodger, and there's half the rent paid.' I must run home now in case
+he wakes up."
+
+Mrs. Applebee's lord and master was at that moment in his bed,
+dreaming of fogs and shadows. Mrs. Pond's lord and master was also
+enjoying repose. They lived in adjoining streets, and their husbands
+being in the Force and at present on the night beat, it was their
+habit to foregather for a social gossip while their good men were in
+the arms of Morpheus.
+
+There had been forewarnings of this visitation of the heaviest fog of
+the season. When people woke up on the morning of March 5th they
+thought it was the middle of the night. The comfortable illusion being
+dispelled by a consultation of watches and clocks they found that the
+sky was not visible, and that they could not distinguish the houses on
+the opposite side of the way. They crawled to their places of business
+in a discontented frame of mind, through a white blinding mist which
+made them uncertain of the direction they were taking. To add to their
+perplexities the trams and omnibuses were not running, and jubilant
+cabmen, bent (paradoxically) on making hay while the sun shines,
+walked at their horses' heads, holding the bridles, and demanded gold
+instead of silver for taking a fare anywhere. These creeping shadows,
+the muffled cries that fell upon the ear, and the lighted links which
+seemed to move through space without the aid of hands, were more like
+a scene in the infernal regions than a representation of the anxious,
+throbbing life of our modern Babylon.
+
+As the day wore on the fog lifted a little, but at night it became
+worse. Theatrical managers were sad and low-spirited, for their
+patrons were not disposed to leave their firesides in such weather,
+and the actors performed their ghostly parts to indistinct and scanty
+audiences, upon whom the brightest flashes of comedy fell with
+depressing effect. The fairies in the pantomimes which were still
+running were shorn of bright fancies, and even the bad spirits derived
+no pleasure from the perpetration of evil deeds. The few monomaniacs
+who believed that the end of the world was coming, were on their
+knees, waiting for the blast of Michael's trumpet. Topers standing at
+the bars of their favourite publichouses drank their liquor with a
+distinct absence of conviviality, and the verbal and visual inanities
+between barmaids and their admirers were shorn of that vacuous
+vivacity which generally distinguishes the intercourse of those
+parties. Dejection and dulness reigned in all the waking world.
+
+In no part of the city were matters quite so bad as in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square, North district, where, an hour after midnight,
+Constable Pond was cautiously feeling his way towards the border-line
+of his beat, hoping there to meet with human companionship in the
+person of Constable Applebee, who, himself animated by a similar hope
+in respect of Constable Pond, was advancing from an opposite
+direction. On this miserable night one crumb of comfort--oh, but it
+was more than a crumb; it might have been called a whole loaf--had
+fallen to the share of Constable Pond. He had not thought it likely
+that his wife would have ventured from the house, nor, lonely as he
+was, did he wish it; but when, an hour or so before midnight, he heard
+the familiar bird-call, he joyfully responded.
+
+"Why, Polly, Polly!" he exclaimed, passing his arm around her. "My
+senses don't deceive me, do they?"
+
+"I hope they don't," said Polly, drawing his arm tighter. "You
+wouldn't do this to another woman, I'm sure of that."
+
+"You may be, Polly, you may be. Not to Queen Victoria herself with her
+gold crown on. Well, this _is_ a surprise! Such a surprise, Polly, as
+makes up for all."
+
+He gave her a great hug. He did not consider the regulations--not he!
+
+"I'm afraid it's cold," said Polly, putting the bottle of coffee into
+his hand, and paying good interest for the hug. "It was boiling hot
+when I started."
+
+"What a brick you are!" said Constable Pond, extracting the cork with
+his teeth, and applying himself to the refreshment. "It's ever so much
+better than three-star. Here, take a pull yourself." She did. "Polly,
+you're a angel!"
+
+She laughed, but did not dispute it, and they remained a short time in
+fond dalliance. A strange hour for Cupid's pranks, but that urchin has
+no conscience. Polly proposed to walk the beat with her husband all
+through the night, but this was such an alarming infringement of the
+regulations that he would not listen to it. So he escorted her to the
+end of his beat, and would have escorted her farther, but _she_ would
+not listen to that.
+
+"Can you find your way home?" he asked, in doubt.
+
+"Blindfold," she answered promptly.
+
+"You may as well have the empty bottle," he said. "Hold it by the
+neck, and if anybody comes up to you give him a crack on the head with
+it. Another kiss, Polly!"
+
+As she walked away she blew on her bird-call every few yards, to which
+her husband did not fail to respond; and if desolation did not fall
+upon him when he could hear it no longer it was because of the
+impression which Polly's thoughtful love had produced upon him. "Good
+little woman," he said. "A regular trump, that's what she is." But a
+couple of hours' loneliness sent his spirits down again, and now he
+was seeking his brother-constable Applebee to cheer him up with the
+friendly word. With the advance of the night the fog continued to
+deepen, and he got into a state of muddle as to his whereabouts. His
+progress was painfully slow. The white mist blinded and deceived him;
+his footsteps were noiseless; and but for the striking of the hour
+from a neighbouring church he might reasonably have fancied that he
+was traversing a city of the dead.
+
+"Saint Michael's Church," he soliloquised, with a feeling of relief.
+"I didn't hear it when it struck last. Where could I have been--and
+where am I now? It can't be fur off, though whether it's to the right
+of me or the left of me, or before me or behind me, I'll be hanged if
+I can tell. What street am I in--Riley Street or Silver Street? If
+it's Riley Street I ought to come upon Applebee in a minute or two,
+unless he's at the other end of the beat. If it's Silver Street I'll
+have to tack."
+
+That he should be puzzled was not to be wondered at, for the streets
+he named were so precisely alike in every detail and feature that they
+might have been turned out of one mould. Their frontage was the same,
+their height was the same, their depth was the same, and each had the
+same number of rooms of exactly the same shape and dimensions, and the
+same number of chimney pots placed in exactly the same positions. When
+this mathematical demon of architecture receives its death-blow a joy
+will be added to existence.
+
+While Constable Pond stood debating whether to tack or creep straight
+on he saw in the distance what might be likened to a dead star--the
+misty glimmering of a despondent light; and on the chance of its
+indicating the presence of Constable Applebee he boldly challenged it.
+
+"Hallo, there!" he cried.
+
+"Hallo, there!" came the echoing answer.
+
+There was little life in their voices; they seemed to linger, as
+though they had not sufficient power to effectually pierce the thick
+air.
+
+"Is that you, Applebee?"
+
+"Yes, it's me. Is it Pond?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Your voice sounds strange. Come slow."
+
+Each advancing with caution, a friendly grasp of hands presently
+united them.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VI.
+
+                IT WAS GONE! THROUGH DEADMAN'S COURT.
+
+
+"What a night!" then exclaimed Constable Pond.
+
+"The worst _I_ ever saw," responded Constable Applebee. "It's a
+record, that's what it is. We had a bad spell in December--lasted two
+days--you remember it, Pond?
+
+"Should think I did."
+
+"It was nothing compared to this. I'd sooner walk through a foot and a
+half of snow than through such a fog. It gets into the eyes, and into
+the chest, and into the head; you can squeeze it through your fingers.
+When it's snow you know where you are; there it is, at your feet; it
+don't mount. It gives a man fair play; this don't. I've been looking
+for you everywhere. Where did you get to?"
+
+"Hard to say. As fur as I know I haven't been off my beat."
+
+"Same here. Anything to report?"
+
+"No. Have you?"
+
+Constable Applebee gave no direct reply, but branched off into what,
+apparently, was another subject. "Look here, Pond. Are you a nervous
+man?"
+
+"Not particularly," answered Constable Pond, with a timid look around.
+
+"But you don't like this sort of thing?"
+
+"Who would?"
+
+"Ah, you may say that. If fog was fog, and nothing else, I'd put up
+with it. And why? Because we've got to."
+
+"A true bill," said Constable Pond, assenting.
+
+"But it brings something else along with it. That's what I complain
+of--and what I mostly complain of is shadders."
+
+"What do you mean?" inquired Constable Pond.
+
+"What I say. Shadders. I don't call _my_self a nervous man, but when
+you see something stealing along a yard or two ahead of you, and you
+go to lay hold of it and it vanishes--yes, Pond, vanishes--it's enough
+to give a man the creeps."
+
+"It'd give _me_ the creeps."
+
+"Very well, then," said Constable Applebee, as though a matter which
+had been in dispute was now settled. "Put a substantial body in my way
+and I'll tackle it. But how _can_ you tackle it when it melts and
+disappears? You call out, 'Now, then, what are you up to?' and you
+don't get a whisper in reply. Ain't that enough to aggravate a man?"
+
+"More than enough; I know how I should feel over it. But look here,
+Applebee, it ain't imagination, is it?"
+
+"Imagination!" exclaimed Constable Applebee, in a voice of scorn.
+"What! Me! Why, I don't suppose, from the day I was born to this
+blessed night of white fog, that if it was all reckoned up I've had
+imagination enough to fill a two-ounce bottle."
+
+This new view of the quality of imagination in relation to quantity
+seemed to impress Constable Pond, who turned it over in his mind
+without feeling himself equal to offer an opinion on it.
+
+"A fog like this always serves me the same way," said Constable
+Applebee. "There was a black fog when I was born I've heard my mother
+often say. That's why, perhaps."
+
+"But what happened?" asked Constable Pond. "You haven't told me that."
+
+"This happened. I see a shadder creeping along the wall. I foller it
+till I'm within half-a-dozen yards. Then I stop and hail it. The
+minute it hears my voice it gives a start, and when I run forward to
+lay hands on it, it vanishes."
+
+"You've got," said Constable Pond, admiringly, "the heart of a lion. I
+don't bring to mind that there's any orders about taking up shadders.
+Bodies, yes. Shadders, no."
+
+"I ain't exactly a mouse," said Constable Applebee, stiffening
+himself. "It happened a second time. There it was, creeping ahead of
+me. This time I don't give it a chance. I run after it and call out,
+'Stand up like a man!'"----
+
+"It might have been a female shadder," suggested Constable Pond.
+
+"Perhaps you know more about it than I do," said Constable Applebee,
+testily.
+
+"No, Applebee, no. Go on."
+
+"'Stand up like a man!' I call out. What's the consequence? It
+vanishes again, and there I stand, dumbfoundered."
+
+"Does it come a third time, Applebee?"
+
+"No, it don't come a third time. When I was a little boy my mother
+took me to the Polytechnic to see 'Pepper's Ghost.' You saw it, and it
+wasn't there. You run a sword through it, and it grinned in your face.
+I was that scared I couldn't sleep for a week afterwards. It's my
+belief, if I'd got close enough to run a knife into the shadder, it'd
+have served me just the same. Step up, we're in the gutter."
+
+"It's singular, that's what it is. It's singular. Shall you report
+it?"
+
+"I'm doubtful of it. They might think I was off my head. Let it be
+between us, Pond."
+
+"It don't pass my lips, Applebee."
+
+They entered a hooded court, and halted there.
+
+"Where are we?" asked Constable Pond.
+
+"In Deadman's Court." Constable Pond shivered. "Leading to Catchpole
+Square, and leading nowhere else. You wouldn't catch _me_ living in a
+cooldersack."
+
+"What may be the meaning of that, Applebee?" asked Constable Pond.
+
+"You couldn't have been much of a dab at school to ask that question.
+Now, me!--but I won't boast. Cooldersack is French for blind
+thoroughfare. A man that sleeps as sound as I do 'd find himself in a
+trap, with a entrance like this. Suppose you live in the end house
+where Mr. Samuel Boyd lives, and there's a fire in the middle of the
+night. How's the fire engines to get to you? You wouldn't have half a
+chance. A man might as well be shut up in a bottle. Do you know the
+Square at all, Pond?"
+
+"No. Never been in it to my knowledge."
+
+"Couldn't have been in it without," said Constable Applebee, chuckling
+at his wit. "It's the rummiest built place _you_ ever saw. Just step
+in a minute. Not that you can see much of it with this fog on, but I
+could describe it blindfold. Six houses with the street doors in front
+of us--we're standing facing 'em now--and only one of 'em let, the one
+at the end corner, Mr. Samuel Boyd's. The others have been empty I
+don't know how long. Now right about face, and what do you see?"
+
+"As fur as I can make out," said Constable Pond, peering before him,
+"it's a blank wall."
+
+"It _is_ a blank wall, the backs of six houses, without any back
+entrance to 'em."
+
+"Where's the front entrance?"
+
+"In Shore Street. If we had Samuel Boyd's money we'd do better with
+it, wouldn't we, Pond? We'd have a house with a bit of garden in front
+and a bit of garden at the back, with a rose tree or two, and flowers
+in the winder--because what's the use of money if you don't enjoy it?"
+
+"That's what I say. Life's short. Only tempery."
+
+"Temporarily, Pond, temporarily," said Constable Applebee, in
+correction. "You _must_ have made a mess of it at school. My missis'd
+go wild with delight if she had a house like that. She's as fond of
+flowers as bees of honey."
+
+"So's mine," said Constable Pond, standing up for his own like a man.
+
+"They all are. And if I had my wish I'd never leave the house in the
+morning without one in my buttonhole. It mellers a man, Pond, that's
+what it does, it mellers him, and whether you're rough or whether
+you're smooth it shows you've got a good heart. I never saw Samuel
+Boyd with a flower in _his_ buttonhole, and if I lived to a hundred I
+never should. And I never had a civil word from him."
+
+"Nor anything in the way of a tip, I'll bet," remarked Constable Pond.
+
+"You'd win it. It was a different pair of shoes with his son, Mr.
+Reginald. There he was, as handsome and free a young chap as you'd set
+eyes on in a day's march, with a flower in his coat and a smile or a
+cheery word to brighten you up. 'A wild night, constable,' he'd say,
+'have a cigar?' And he'd slip one in my hand, and sometimes the price
+of a pint. It's nigh upon two years since I set eyes on him--wus
+luck!" These reminiscences came to a sudden stop. Constable Applebee
+clutched his comrade's arm, and whispered hoarsely, "Look there! The
+shadder!"
+
+A figure was creeping along the wall, as though in the endeavour to
+escape observation. They darted forward, and Constable Applebee laid
+his hand upon it, crying, "Now, then, give an account of yourself!" It
+was not a shadow, for shadows have no substance. It was not a shadow,
+for shadows have no voice. The sound of a sob escaped from the figure.
+Constable Applebee's grasp was nerveless rather than vigorous, and a
+less powerful effort than it made would have enabled it to escape. It
+was gone! Through Deadman's Court!
+
+"Quick, Pond, quick!" cried Constable Applebee. In a state of
+confusion they scrambled out of Catchpole Square, and came into
+violent collision. Ruefully rubbing their heads they looked about
+them, and saw nothing but the thick white fog.
+
+"Vanished!" exclaimed Constable Applebee. The collision had knocked
+Constable Pond's helmet off. Stooping to recover it he saw something
+white beneath it--a lady's handkerchief, trimmed with lace. With a sly
+glance at Constable Applebee he put it into his pocket.
+
+"It'll do for the missis," he thought. "She's fond of a bit of lace."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER VII.
+
+                   IN BISHOP STREET POLICE STATION.
+
+
+Availing itself of the privilege to creep through every chink and
+crevice, to steal up backstairs and take advantage of every keyhole,
+and to make its dismal presence felt equally within the habitations of
+man as without, the white fog had insinuated itself into the Bishop
+Street Police Station, where it lay in the form of a semi-transparent
+shroud, and where Inspector Robson looked more like the ghost of a man
+than the man himself. In the brightest of weather the office was not a
+cheerful apartment; under the thrall of the white fog, an hour after
+midnight, it assumed a funereal aspect inexpressibly depressing.
+
+Busily employed in making out the charge sheet for the following day,
+Inspector Robson still found time to cast an occasional eye upon
+another ghostly form who, with one foot resting on the end of a wooden
+bench, was leaning against the wall in a negligent attitude, engaged
+in the insubstantial occupation of chewing a ghostly straw. The
+Inspector wrote a fine copperplate hand, and his steel pen neither
+scratched nor spluttered. On the present occasion he was taking
+extraordinary care over his task, as though more than usually
+important issues hung upon the perfect outlines of his pothooks and
+hangers. The absence of sound within the office and the shroud which
+lay upon it, rendering objects within a few yards of him indistinct,
+imparted so strong an air of unreality to the scene, that his slow and
+measured movements bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. The other ghostly person in the office chewed his straw and
+moved his lips with so regular and unintelligent a motion that _his_
+movements, also, bore some resemblance to the movements of an
+automaton. But for the difference in their ages these two men might
+have been posing to an invisible artist for a picture of the
+Industrious and the Idle Apprentices.
+
+That there was something in the negligent figure that discomposed the
+Inspector was evident from the expression on his face when he raised
+his head from the charge sheet and glanced in that direction, and it
+was quite as evident that his discomposure was powerless to arouse the
+cause of it from his apparent insensibility to all external objects
+and impressions. He was young and good-looking, his age probably
+twenty-four or five; Inspector Robson was old enough to be his father,
+and on his features were stamped the effects of long years of official
+responsibilities and steady application to duty. In this relation of
+the Idle and the Industrious Apprentices the marked contrast they
+presented was capable of a dramatic interpretation.
+
+"Do you intend to remain much longer?" inquired the Inspector, goaded
+at length into breaking the oppressive silence. "Because I'd like you
+to know I'm pretty well tired of you."
+
+"I'm pretty well tired of myself," replied the young man, in a
+listless tone. "As to remaining much longer I can't exactly say."
+
+"You have no right to be in this place, you know, unless you are here
+upon business. Now, the question is, are you here upon business? If
+you are, I'm ready to take it down."
+
+The young man turned the straw in his mouth, and appeared to reflect.
+Coming to a conclusion he languidly said, "I can't think of any
+particular business."
+
+"That's a pity," said the Inspector.
+
+"That's a pity," echoed the young man, with distinct indifference.
+
+"Well, then," said the Inspector, bracing himself up for a great
+effort, "as you have no business to be here unless you have business
+to be here----" This was so involved that it brought him to a full
+stop; scratching his head with whimsical perplexity he extricated
+himself from the difficulty by adding, "The best thing you can do is
+to clear out."
+
+The young man, deciding that he had sufficiently rested one foot,
+lowered it, and lifted the other upon the bench. This was the only
+movement he made.
+
+The Inspector resumed his writing with the manner of a man driven to a
+helpless pass. A peculiar feature of the defeat he had met with was
+that it did not seem to anger him. Presently he spoke again.
+
+"I don't often get into a temper, Dick."
+
+"Not often."
+
+"But when I do," said the Inspector, with an anticipatory chuckle,
+"it's a thing to remember."
+
+"When you do, uncle, I'll remember it."
+
+The Inspector finished the charge sheet, tidied up his papers, and
+looking over his shoulder at Dick, suddenly burst out laughing.
+
+Dick's face cleared; a light stole into his eyes; his lips quivered.
+These tokens of serious emotion were like the passing of a cloud. The
+next moment he joined the Inspector in the laugh, and the storm was at
+an end.
+
+"Where are you going to sleep, Dick?"
+
+"Let me see," Dick answered. "Buckingham Palace sounds tempting; there
+must be several beds unoccupied there. Could a fellow get between the
+sheets of one? Do you think it might be managed? I hope they keep a
+fire in the rooms and the sheets well aired."
+
+"Don't be a fool."
+
+"Can I help it?"
+
+"No, Dick, no," said the inspector, advancing and laying his hand
+kindly upon Dick's shoulder. "Upon my soul I don't believe you can."
+
+Dick lifted his eyes, with an implied suggestion that the Inspector,
+by the barest possibility, might be mistaken; but he did not put this
+into words.
+
+"I can't take you home with me," said the Inspector. "Aunt Rob won't
+have it. She's put her foot down, and when she puts her foot down,
+why, there it is."
+
+The comic helplessness expressed in this obvious statement seemed to
+amuse Dick, but he said, gravely enough, "Yes, there it is."
+
+"And there's Florence."
+
+At the introduction of this name a look of sad tenderness stole into
+Dick's eyes, but he said calmly, "Ah, and there's Florence."
+
+"Now, Dick, let us have this out, once and for all."
+
+"I'm agreeable."
+
+"It's altogether too bad," exclaimed the Inspector. "What with you and
+Florence, bless her! _and_ Aunt Rob, I haven't a moment's peace of my
+life. What Aunt Rob says is this. 'Here's Dick Remington,' she says,
+'that you've behaved as a father to, and that I've behaved as a mother
+to. Ever since he was left an orphan, having lost his father, then his
+mother--you were three years old when my poor sister died--he's lived
+with us as one of our own, and so we've treated him. He had a claim
+upon us, and that claim we've met.' And she says--her foot being
+down--'It's time Dick looked after himself.' She gave you a hint,
+which you took pretty quick. I'll say that of you; you took it almost
+too quick."
+
+"What else could I do?"
+
+"It was a mistake, Dick, to get into a huff as you did. The minute she
+began to speak you took her up sharp--and if there's one thing more
+than another that puts her back up it is to be took up sharp. You see,
+Dick, it's a delicate matter. Aunt Rob says, 'We must think of
+Florence. She comes first.' And she's right, Dick."
+
+"She is, uncle. Florence comes first--always first!"
+
+"'Here's Dick,' says Aunt Rob, 'that I'm as fond of as if he was my
+own son, what is he good for? What prospects has he got? He's been in
+one situation and another, and never keeps to one thing for more than
+a few weeks at a time. Here he is, a grown man, and here is Florence,
+almost a grown woman.' To think of it!" said Inspector Robson,
+pensively, breaking off. "It was only yesterday that she was in short
+frocks, going backward and forward to school, and climbing up on my
+knee to pull my whiskers, and cuddling up in my arms, and singing her
+little songs in a voice as sweet as music. And now! a grown woman! To
+think of it--to think of it!"
+
+"Loving you no less as a woman, uncle, than she did as a child."
+
+"I know it, my lad, I know it, but it sets a man on the think."
+
+And Inspector Robson fell forthwith into a brown study which lasted
+quite five minutes, during which the image of his only child, most
+tenderly and dearly beloved, presented itself to him in its sweetest
+and most engaging aspects.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER VIII.
+
+    AUNT ROB THINKS FLORENCE OUGHT TO MARRY A MARQUIS OR A PRINCE.
+
+
+Dick Remington waited patiently to hear the full sum of the reproaches
+which Aunt Rob brought against him. He, too, saw with his mind's eye
+the image of the young girl for whom he would have laid down his life,
+and if his thoughts of her brought a pang to his heart they were at
+the same time charged with exceeding tenderness.
+
+Inspector Robson shook himself free from dreams, and returned to his
+subject.
+
+"That is what Aunt Rob says. 'Here is Dick a grown man, and here is
+Florence almost a grown woman. When Dick comes down in the morning he
+kisses Florence and she kisses him; and when he bids her good night he
+kisses her again. And,' says Aunt Rob, 'I don't know that this is a
+thing that ought to be allowed to go on.' I dare say it's puzzled
+other people as well as us when kissing ought to be left off. So long
+as you were little it was as natural as natural could be. You were
+playmates and chums, and you rolled on the floor together and played
+coach and horses and London Bridge is Falling Down, and you'd carry
+her on your shoulder and lift her as high as the ceiling, and throw
+her up and catch her, she screaming with delight and crying, 'Again,
+Dick, again!' You grew up, Dick, and when you were eighteen Florence
+was only twelve, and the kissing went on, and there was nothing to
+object to. But you got to be twenty and Florence fourteen, and the
+kissing went on. Then her frocks were lengthened, and the pair of you
+continued to grow up till she was nineteen and you twenty-five--and
+all this time the kissing went on. Now, Dick, there _must_ come a
+time when, even between cousins, kissing must stop. Sometimes it's
+done gradual, sometimes all of a sudden, which makes things a bit
+awkward--but one way or the other it's got to be done. You must see
+that yourself, Dick."
+
+"Yes, I suppose so, uncle."
+
+"And Aunt Rob has got an eye to the future. Pretty girls like Florence
+don't grow on every gooseberry bush. Show me the girl that can compare
+with her. Do _you_ know of one, Dick?"
+
+"Not one in all the wide world," replied the young man. "God bless
+her, and make her happy!"
+
+"She's been brought up sensible," said Inspector Robson. "She can make
+a beef steak pudding and play the piano; there's nothing she can't
+turn her hand to, and the man that gets her will be a lucky chap. Aunt
+Rob thinks a gentleman born would not be too good for her. 'Why not
+say a marquis, or a prince?' says I to her, speaking sarcastic like.
+And she bridles up and answers, 'Why not? He might do worse; he
+couldn't do better.'"
+
+"No gentleman in the land," said Dick, with a tremor in his voice,
+"could be too good for Florence. She's equal to the best, and could
+hold her own among the best, even if they were born in a palace."
+
+"That's what Aunt Rob thinks," said Inspector Robson, his eyes glowing
+with loving pride, "and that's what we all think, and who that knows
+Florence could think differently? But let's come back to you, Dick,
+for that's the main point. Why don't you stick to one thing, my lad?"
+
+"Perhaps because it won't stick to me," Dick replied.
+
+"Nonsense, nonsense, lad, it's the other way about. Do you recollect
+the morning you went to your first situation, and how we all stood at
+the street door to see you off? There was Florence and Aunt Rob waving
+their handkerchiefs and kissing their hands to you till you were out
+of sight. You kept that situation seven months, and then you threw it
+up. You didn't like the place, you said. All right. You got another
+situation, as traveller on commission in the sewing machine line. You
+commenced well, and was earning your fifteen shillings a week. What
+was our surprise when you came home one night and told us you'd left
+because it wouldn't suit you? The next thing you took to was the
+stage, and you gave us tickets to come and see you act. We rehearsed
+at home, and Florence gave you the cues. As for your make-up as you
+call it, you did it so cleverly that we didn't know you when you come
+on the stage. 'That's what he's cut out for,' I said. 'One of these
+days he'll have a theatre of his own.' But Aunt Rob shook her head.
+You wrote a little piece in one act, and got it played--actually got
+it played. We thought it beautiful, and the way Florence laughed and
+cried over it--well! But it wasn't a success for all that. Still, you
+know, Dick, if at first you don't succeed, try, try again. You didn't
+try again. You gave up the stage----"
+
+Dick interposed with, "Or it gave up me."
+
+"Anyway you left it. Your next move was clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square."
+
+"Ah!" said Dick, and there was a look of inquiry in his eyes as he
+fixed them upon the Inspector.
+
+"You may well say 'Ah,' for from what's known of him he's not the kind
+of man one would be proud to serve. What made you go to him?"
+
+"I was hard up, and had been trying for a couple of months to get in
+somewhere. I was curious about him, too: thought he would do for a
+character that I could make up like if I ever went on the stage, or
+could use if ever I wrote another play." He spoke with apparent
+carelessness, but with a covert observance of the Inspector while he
+gave this explanation.
+
+"It didn't surprise me that you remained with him only three months.
+When you left him you took to writing for the papers, and we read your
+paragraphs and articles with wonder at your cleverness. You don't do
+much in that way now, Dick?"
+
+"Not much," said Dick, with a smile, "but I haven't given it up
+entirely. There is always the future."
+
+"Ah, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, very seriously, "we don't
+live in the future, we live in the present. When we're hungry a future
+dinner won't satisfy our stomachs. Aunt Rob sums it up in three or
+four words. 'Dick's got no stability,' she says, and, against my will,
+I've come round to her way of thinking. I suppose, Dick, all this time
+you haven't saved a penny--eh?" The young man made no reply, and
+Inspector Robson cried, half angrily, half admiringly, "What business
+had you to be making us presents and bringing things home for Aunt Rob
+and me and Florence when you ought to have been looking after
+yourself? What did you do it for? 'Here's Dick brought home an immense
+turkey,' says Aunt Rob to me at Christmas; and at other times, 'Here's
+that stupid Dick brought home a couple of chickens, or a veal and ham
+pie,' and I don't know what all. 'I wish,' says Aunt Rob, 'that you'd
+tell him to stop it, and put his money into the savings bank.' But not
+you! At the least mention of such a thing you fired up and wanted to
+know what we meant by it."
+
+"I could not have acted differently," said Dick. "I was living upon
+you--yes, I was. You wouldn't take anything for my board and lodging,
+and I had to try and make it up in some way. It was little enough I
+did, but if I hadn't done that little I should have been ashamed to
+look you in the face. Besides, how many times have you said to me,
+'Dick, you must be in want of a bit of pocket money,' and forced a
+half sovereign upon me, and sometimes more?"
+
+"Welcome you were to it," said Inspector Robson, in his heartiest
+tone, "though it's my firm belief if you had a thousand a year you'd
+never have a shilling in your purse, you're that free with your money.
+A sailor come ashore after a two year's cruise is a fool to you." He
+paused a moment. "Dick, my lad, I've been too hard on you, in what
+I've said: I'm downright ashamed of myself."
+
+"It isn't in you, and it isn't in Aunt Rob, to do anything of which
+you need be ashamed. I have been thoughtless and inconsiderate----"
+
+"No, no, Dick!"
+
+"Yes, yes, uncle. I've been too much wrapped up in myself, and given
+no thought to the best friends a young ne'er-do-well ever had. If I
+could only make it up to you!" He turned his face to the wall, so that
+the Inspector should not see the tears that rushed into his eyes.
+
+"Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "have you got yourself into any
+money difficulty? Say the word, and I'll see what we can do to get you
+out of it."
+
+"What a trump you are!" exclaimed Dick. "No, uncle. I owe no one a
+shilling except you and Aunt Rob."
+
+"Don't keep on harping on that string or you'll get my temper up. If
+it isn't money, is it a woman?"
+
+"If you mean whether I've entangled myself with a woman, or done
+anything wrong that way, I can answer honestly, no."
+
+"I knew it, my lad, I knew it," said Inspector Robson, triumphantly.
+"Whatever your faults may be I was sure there wasn't a bit of vice in
+you. And now I tell you what it is; you shall come home with me
+to-night, your room's ready for you, and I'll make it all right with
+Aunt Rob. Make it all right! It _is_ all right. 'The place isn't the
+same, father,' she says to me, 'with Dick out of it.' If you knew how
+we've missed you, my lad, you'd grow an inch taller."
+
+"Who is it that has kept my room ready for me?"
+
+"Aunt Rob and Florence, to be sure."
+
+"And Florence," whispered Dick to himself, a wave of exceeding
+tenderness flowing over him.
+
+"Florence it was who said to Aunt Rob, 'Mother, we mustn't let Dick
+think when he comes back that we've been neglectful of him.' 'Of
+course not,' said Aunt Rob, and up they go to see that everything is
+sweet and clean. You know the pride that Aunt Rob takes in the house.
+You might eat off the floor. And there's Florence of a morning
+sweeping out your room, and looking in every corner for a speck of
+dust. There's the canary and the cage you gave her, _and_ the
+goldfish--why, if they were her own little babies she couldn't look
+after them better. So home we go together, and we'll let bygones be
+bygones and commence afresh."
+
+"No, uncle, I can't come home with you," said Dick, shaking his head.
+"I thank you from my heart, but it can't be."
+
+"Not come home with me!" exclaimed Inspector Robson, in great
+astonishment. "Why, what's the matter with the lad? You don't mean it,
+Dick, sure_ly!_"
+
+"I do mean it, uncle."
+
+"Dick, Dick, Dick," said Inspector Robson, shaking a warning
+forefinger at the young man, "pride's a proper thing in the right
+place, but a deuced ugly thing when it makes us take crooked views. I
+say you _shall_ come home with me. Do you know what kind of a night it
+is, lad? I wouldn't turn a dog out in such weather, unless it was a
+blind dog, and then it wouldn't matter much. Come, come, Dick, think
+better of it."
+
+"Nothing can alter my resolution, uncle--nothing. I did not come here
+to-night to annoy you; I wanted a shelter, and I hoped the fog would
+clear; but it seems to have grown thicker. However, it can't last for
+ever. In three or four hours it will be morning, and then----"
+
+"Go on. And then?"
+
+"The night will be gone, and it will be day," said Dick, gaily.
+
+"And to-morrow night?"
+
+"It will be night again."
+
+"And you'll sleep in Buckingham Palace, for it stands to reason a man
+must sleep somewhere, and they don't charge for beds there that I'm
+aware of. How's the treasury, lad?" Dick laughed. "It's no laughing
+matter. Here's a sovereign; it'll see through the week at all events."
+
+"I'm not going to rob you, uncle," said Dick in a shaking voice.
+
+Inspector Robson caught Dick's hand, forced it open, forced a
+sovereign into it, and closed the young man's fingers over it, holding
+the hand tight in his to prevent the money being returned. In the
+execution of a ruthless action the Inspector's muscles were of iron.
+
+"If you drop it, or try to give it me back," he said, "I'll lock you
+up and charge you with loitering for an unlawful purpose. What will
+Florence think when she sees your name in the papers and my name
+charging you? Be sensible for once, Dick, if you've any feeling for
+her."
+
+The blood rushed up into Dick's face, and he staggered as if he had
+been struck; but he recovered himself quickly, and was the same
+indolent, easy-mannered being as before.
+
+"Thank you, uncle; I'll keep the sovereign. Before the week's out I
+daresay I shall get something to do. The mischief of it is, there's
+nothing stirring; stagnation's the order of the day. If I could hit
+upon something startling and be first in the field, I should get well
+paid for it. Would you object to my dashing on the colour in an
+article headed, 'A Night in an Inspector's Office.'? I think I could
+make it lurid."
+
+Before the laughing Inspector could reply a constable entered, holding
+by the arm a poorly dressed woman of woebegone appearance. Her
+gestures, her sobs, the wild looks she cast around, were those of a
+woman driven to distraction. Clinging to her skirts was a little girl
+as woebegone and white-faced as her mother.
+
+Inspector Robson instantly straightened himself; he was no longer a
+private individual, but an officer of the law prepared for duty in
+whatever complicated shape it presented itself.
+
+"She's been here half-a-dozen times to-night, sir," said the
+constable, "and last night as well, and the night before. She's lost
+her husband, she says."
+
+"My husband--my husband!" moaned the woman. "Find him for me--find him
+for me! He's gone, gone, gone! Merciful God! What has become of him?"
+
+Inspector Robson saw at a glance that here before him was no woman
+maddened by drink, but a woman suffering from terrible distress; and
+by a motion of his hand he conveyed an order to the constable, who
+instantly took his hand from the woman's arm.
+
+"What is your husband's name?" asked the Inspector in a gentle tone.
+
+"Abel Death, sir. Oh, for God's sake find him for me--find him for
+me--find him for me!"
+
+Tears rolled down her face and choked her voice. Every nerve in her
+body was quivering with anguish.
+
+"How long has he been gone?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"Five days, sir, five long, long days."
+
+"Was he in employment?"
+
+"Yes, sir, yes. Oh, what can have become of him?"
+
+"What is the name of his employer?"
+
+The agony the woman had endured overcame her, and she could not
+immediately reply.
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole Square," said the child.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER IX.
+
+                   THE DISAPPEARANCE OF ABEL DEATH.
+
+
+She spoke in a hoarse voice, and very slowly, a scraping, grating
+cough accompanying her words. "Mr. Samuel Boyd, sir, of Catchpole
+Square," might, according to her utterance, have lain in a
+charnel-house among the bones of the dead when she fished him up for
+the information of Inspector Robson. Such a rasping cough, forcing
+what little blood she had in her poor body up into her pallid face,
+where it stood out in blotches of dull, unhealthy red! Such a wearing,
+tearing cough, as though some savage, malignant beast, lurking in her
+chest, was clawing at it in sheer devilry, and scraping it clean to
+the bone! But she did not seem to mind it, nor, by her manner, did she
+invite pity for it. The cough was an old companion, "and goes on so,"
+she said to a juvenile friend, "when it takes me unawares, that it
+almost twists my head off." This was not said in a tone of
+complaining; it was merely a plain statement of fact.
+
+The name of Samuel Boyd had scarcely passed the girl's lips, when
+Inspector Robson darted forward to catch the woman, who, but for his
+timely help, would have fallen to the ground. Assisted by Dick he bore
+her to a bench, and there they succeeded in restoring her to
+consciousness.
+
+The attitude of the child was remarkable for its composure, which
+sprang from no lack of feeling, but partly from familiarity with
+suffering, and partly from a pitiful strength of character which
+circumstances had brought too early into play. Too early, indeed, for
+she was but twelve years of age, and had about her few of the graces
+which speak of a happy child-life. How different is the springtime of
+such a child from that of one brought up in a home of comparative
+comfort, where the pinching and grinding for the barest necessaries of
+life are happily unfelt! What pregnant lessons are to be learned from
+a child so forlorn--say, for instance, the lesson of gratitude for the
+better fortune and the pleasant hours of which we take no account!
+
+But Gracie Death did not murmur or repine. She simply suffered, and
+suffered in dull patience. It was her lot, and she bore it.
+
+The introduction of the name of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square
+brought a startled look into Dick's eyes, and he glanced at Inspector
+Robson to see if it made any impression upon him. The Inspector gave
+no indication of this, but devoted his whole attention to the woman,
+who, the moment she revived, was in full possession of her senses.
+
+"My husband!" she moaned. "My husband!"
+
+"Has he run away from you?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"No, sir, no," replied Mrs. Death. "He was too fond of us for that.
+The best husband, the best father! If you have any mercy in you, find
+him for me! What shall I do without him? What will the children do
+without him?"
+
+"We shall starve," said Gracie, answering the question, coldly and
+impassively.
+
+Inspector Robson coughed behind his hand, and his cough awoke the
+demon in Gracie's chest to emulation so strong that it straightway set
+to work, and the spectators had a practical illustration of her
+statement that it was "enough to twist her head off."
+
+"The child has a bad cough," said Inspector Robson, with a look of
+pity; "she oughtn't to be out on such a night."
+
+"I _would_ come with mother," said Gracie. "It ain't her fault, it's
+mine."
+
+The Inspector coughed again, and Gracie's demon followed suit.
+
+"Did your husband drink?" asked the Inspector.
+
+"No, sir, no," said the woman, reproachfully. "How can you ask it?
+Gracie will tell you. Did father drink, Gracie?"
+
+"Yes," she answered. "Tea. Very weak. I like it strong," and added,
+"when I can get it."
+
+"I wish I had a cup to give you," said Inspector Robson.
+
+"So do I," said Gracie, "and a cup for mother."
+
+"If there's anything you wish to tell me," said the Inspector,
+addressing the woman, "I will see what can be done. Take your time,
+and don't hurry. He was employed by Mr. Samuel Boyd, you say."
+
+"Yes, sir, of Catchpole Square. He was Mr. Boyd's clerk, and a hard
+time he had of it. We did the best we could upon his miserable salary,
+but what with one thing and another we were worried out of our lives."
+
+"Did I worry you, mother?" asked Gracie. "I'd stop coughing if I
+could, but I can't. If it didn't worry mother, gentlemen, I wouldn't
+mind. It ketches me that tight that I can't hold it if I try ever so.
+I _do_ try, mother!"
+
+"You do, my dear. A little while ago"--to the Inspector again--"we
+borrowed three pounds of a money-lender and signed a paper, and though
+we've paid it twice over he makes out that we owe him more than we did
+at the beginning. Our bits of furniture aren't worth much, but it's
+all we have, and every time he comes he threatens to sell us up."
+
+"I wish he'd sell my cough up," said Gracie, with a queer little
+laugh, "I'd let it go cheap. It wouldn't fetch much, I reckon, but he
+can have it and welcome, because it worries mother."
+
+"That's the way she talks of it, sir. She never thinks of herself."
+
+"Oh, don't I, though? You mustn't believe everything mother says,
+gentlemen."
+
+"Let me go on, dear, and don't interrupt, or you'll make the gentlemen
+angry."
+
+"I'd be sorry to do that. You _will_ help mother won't you, please!"
+
+"We'll try," replied Inspector Robson, kindly and patiently.
+
+"Then I won't say another word till she's done," said Gracie.
+
+"Last Friday night he came home in a terrible state," continued the
+woman, fondling Gracie's cheek with her trembling hand. "He hoped to
+get the loan of a few pounds from Mr. Boyd, so that we could pay the
+money-lender off, and buy a chest protector for Gracie, and a little
+warm clothing for the other children."
+
+It was as much as Gracie could do to refrain from protesting that she
+didn't want a chest protector, or any nonsense of that sort, but when
+she passed her word she was not in the habit of breaking it, so she
+contented herself with shutting her thin white lips tight, and looking
+defiantly at the mist that filled the room. Which revenged itself by
+tickling her throat to such a degree that she almost choked.
+
+"He went out in the morning full of hope," said Mrs. Death, when the
+fit of coughing was over, "and came home full of despair. Instead of
+getting the loan which was to set us free and give the children a
+chance, he had been discharged. Discharged, gentlemen, discharged, at
+a moment's notice! It came upon me like a thunder-clap, and when I saw
+my husband sitting at the table with his face hidden in his hands, I
+wondered what we were sent into the world for. Look at my little
+Gracie here, gentlemen. She doesn't weigh half her proper weight, and
+she hasn't an ounce of flesh on her bones. She's more like a skeleton
+than anything else, and so are we all. Look at her, and look at me,
+and think of our little children at home almost at the point of death,
+and you'll understand why my poor dear husband was filled with
+despair. Oh, it's bitter cruel, bitter, bitter cruel! One tries, and
+tries, and tries, and never a spark of light to comfort us. Nothing
+but misery, nothing but misery, nothing but misery!"
+
+It was terrible to hear the repetition of her words, terrible to
+witness her agony and her just rebellion against her cruel fate.
+Gracie did not speak, but slid her little hand, cold as ice, into the
+hand of her mother, who clasped it convulsively. Quietly and
+impassively the child watched the faces of the listeners to note the
+effect the appeal had upon them.
+
+"Would it be a breach of duty to introduce a mug of hot tea into a
+police station?" asked Dick of the Inspector.
+
+"No, it would not," said Inspector Robson. "There's a can in the
+cupboard there. Here's a shilling. Get it filled."
+
+"I must stop and hear the end of this story," said Dick. "I've a
+reason for it. The constable can go, can't he?"
+
+Inspector Robson nodded, and the tin can and the shilling being given
+to the constable, he departed on the errand.
+
+By this time the woman had sufficiently recovered to proceed.
+
+"There my poor husband sat, the picture of misery, and never said a
+word, and I hadn't a word of comfort to give him. To tell him to bear
+up--what would have been the use of that? I put before him what little
+food there was in the cupboard, but he pushed it away and wouldn't
+touch it. All at once he started up and said, 'I'm going out.' 'Where
+to?' I asked, and I put my hand on his arm to keep him at home, for
+his face was dreadful to see, and I was afraid of--I don't know what.
+He guessed what was in my mind. 'No,' he said, 'don't think that of
+me. You've got enough trouble to bear as it is; I won't bring more on
+you. I'll fight on to the bitter end.' You know what was in my mind, I
+dare say."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+The woman resumed. "'Where are you going?' I asked him again. 'To
+Catchpole Square,' he answered. 'I'll make another appeal to Mr.
+Boyd.' I didn't think there was any hope for us, but I knew it would
+dishearten him if I said as much, and I let him go. As near as I can
+remember it was half past nine, and I expected him back before eleven,
+but at eleven there was no sign of him. I did not dare to leave the
+house, for the children hadn't got to sleep yet, and if he returned
+while I was away it would put everything in confusion. I waited and
+waited till I could bear it no longer, and then I went out to look for
+him, thinking that perhaps Mr. Boyd had relented, and had given my
+husband work to do which kept him in the office all night. It was past
+two when I reached Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows.
+There's never any life to be seen there, and I didn't see any then.
+There was a bell-pull at the door that wouldn't ring, so I knocked and
+knocked and kept on knocking without any one coming. I hung about the
+Square for an hour and more, and knocked again and again as loud as I
+could, and at last I came away and ran home, hoping to see my husband
+there. Gracie was awake, and said nobody had come while I was away.
+Can you understand my feelings, sir?"
+
+"I can," replied Inspector Robson, as the constable entered the office
+with an empty cup and the can of hot tea. "Take a drink of this before
+you go on. It'll warm you up." He filled the cup with the steaming
+liquid and gave it to her.
+
+Gracie's eyes glittered, but she did not move, and when her mother
+offered her the mug she said, "No, mother. After you's manners," in
+quite an elegant way, as though their mission to the police station
+was to take afternoon tea with the Inspector. Mrs. Death, too well
+acquainted with her child's character to attempt any persuasion,
+therefore drank first, deep sighs of satisfaction betokening her
+gratitude. Refilling the cup Inspector Robson handed it to Gracie,
+who, before she put it to her lips, said, in her best society manner,
+
+"To you and yours, sir, and gentlemen all, and may none of you ever
+feel the want of it. The Lord make us truly thankful! Hallelujah!"
+
+A form of grace which, but for the pathetic side of the picture, might
+have caused some amusement to those who heard it.
+
+Nothing of Gracie's face could be seen except her coal black eyes
+glittering like dusky stars above the white rim of the mug as she
+tilted it, and though the tea scalded her throat she made no pause
+till the last drop was finished. Then she sidled up to her mother and
+stood quietly there, her child-soul filled with thankfulness which was
+not expressed in her thin, sallow face.
+
+"Saturday passed, sir," said the woman, pressing Gracie to her side
+and resuming her story, "and he didn't come home, and nobody could
+tell me anything about him. It was the same all day Sunday and all
+yesterday; I was never off my feet. Half-a-dozen times every day have
+I been to Catchpole Square, knocking at the door without being able to
+make anybody hear. What am I to do, what _am_ I to do? If somebody
+don't help me, I shall go mad!"
+
+"The only thing I can suggest just now," said Inspector Robson, "is
+that your husband's disappearance should be made public. Come to the
+magistrate's court to-morrow morning at twelve or one o'clock. I will
+be there, and will see that you get a hearing. Some of the reporters
+will take notice of it, and it will get into the papers. It's the best
+advice I can give you."
+
+"I'll follow it, sir," said the woman, but it was evident that she had
+given up hope. "Thank you kindly for listening to me so patiently.
+Come, Gracie, we'll go home. Will it be sure to get into the papers,
+sir, if I come to the magistrate's court?"
+
+Inspector Robson looked at Dick, who nodded. "I think I can promise
+that. Now get home as quickly as possible, and put your little girl to
+bed. Her cough is dreadful."
+
+In a voice as hoarse as any raven's, and quite composedly, as if the
+Inspector were the object of compassion, Grace said, "Don't let it
+worry you, please. _I_ don't mind it, not a bit." She drew her breath
+hard as she added without any show of feeling, "You _will_ find
+father, won't you? Mother'll never forget you for it. You've been ever
+so good to us. I never tasted such tea, and, oh my! wasn't it hot
+neither? Come along, mother.
+
+"You had better leave your address," said Dick, who had listened to
+the woman's story with absorbed attention.
+
+"We live at Draper's Mews, number 7, second floor back." While Dick
+was writing it down Inspector Robson slipped a sixpence into Gracie's
+hand. Then, patting her shoulder, he gave her an encouraging smile,
+which she acknowledged, as she did the sixpence, though her fingers
+closed quickly and tightly over the coin, with the same gravity as
+distinguished all her movements. Emerging into the street she began to
+cough with great violence, and gasped and fought with her little
+fists, as though the demon in her chest, now that he had got her
+outside, was bent upon tearing her to pieces. The men in the police
+station listened compassionately until the child and her cough were
+lost in the fog through which she and her mother were slowly creeping.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER X.
+
+                   UNCLE ROB AND DICK ARGUE IT OUT.
+
+
+"Is that in your line, Dick?" said Inspector Robson. "You were wishing
+for something startling, and I should say you've got it."
+
+"It is hardly startling enough yet," Dick replied, "but there's no
+telling what it may lead to. Have you formed an opinion?"
+
+"I haven't heard lately of any dead bodies being found that couldn't
+be identified, but it looks to me as if the man has made away with
+himself."
+
+"No, uncle. I'll take his own word for it that he'd do his duty and
+fight it out to the bitter end."
+
+"Mightn't he have said so to his wife to quiet her? And even if it
+wasn't in his mind then, it might have come suddenly afterwards. When
+a man's in the state he was, there's no telling what he might do on
+the spur of the moment. I don't throw doubt on Mrs. Death's story,
+though I've heard some queer stories in my time and believed in them
+at the time they were told, only to find out a little later that there
+wasn't one word of truth in them. The lengths that people'll go to
+whose minds are unsettled is astonishing. Astonishing!" he repeated
+reflectively. "How often do you hear of men giving themselves up as
+murderers when they're as innocent as the babe unborn!"
+
+"Suppose we try and follow Mrs. Death's story out, uncle," said Dick.
+
+"Go ahead. Upon my word, Dick, I almost fancy I hear that poor child's
+cough now--the ghost of a cough travelling through the fog. It will
+make a ghost of her, I'm afraid, before she's many weeks older."
+
+"Poor little mite!" said Dick, and paused a moment. "Uncle Rob, you've
+the kindest heart that ever beat."
+
+"Pooh, pooh, my lad, the fog's got into your foolish noddle."
+
+"You don't deserve," pursued Dick, very earnestly, "to have trouble
+come upon you unaware----"
+
+"Dick!" cried Inspector Robson, startled by the unusual earnestness
+with which the words were spoken no less than by the words themselves.
+"Trouble come upon me unaware! Do you know what you are saying, my
+lad?"
+
+"I was thinking," said Dick, in some confusion, "of the trouble that
+comes unexpectedly to many people without their being prepared for
+it."
+
+"Oh, that! Well, when such trouble comes we've got to bear it and meet
+it like men."
+
+It was in Dick's mind, though not upon his tongue, "But if it comes
+upon you through the one you hold most dear, through Florence, dear to
+me as to you, how will you bear it then?"
+
+"Go on with the story of Abel Death, Dick. The last we see of him is
+when he sits at the table in his lodgings with his head in his hands,
+and starts up to make one more appeal to Samuel Boyd. The first
+question is, does he go straight to Catchpole Square, or does he go
+into a public and get drunk?"
+
+"He goes straight to Catchpole Square, and knocks at Samuel Boyd's
+door."
+
+"Admitted--for the sake of argument."
+
+"The next question is, does he get into the house?"
+
+"And there," said the Inspector, "we come to a full stop."
+
+"Not at all. Let us consider the possibilities. There are a dozen
+doors open."
+
+"All opening on different roads, and leading to confusion. Better to
+have one strong clue than a dozen to distract your mind."
+
+"Granted," said Dick; "but in the absence of that one strong clue I
+shall leave all the doors open till I see what is behind them. Let us
+suppose that Abel Death gets into the house."
+
+"Openly or secretly, Dick?"
+
+"Openly. Samuel Boyd admits him. He takes delight in playing with
+those whom he oppresses, in worrying and torturing them, in leading
+them on to hope, and then plunging them into despair. Abel Death being
+in the house, the question arises did he ever get out of it?"
+
+"What are you thinking of, Dick? Murder?"
+
+"The man is gone, and left no trace behind. If he had committed
+suicide it is a thousand to one that his body would have been found
+and identified."
+
+"True."
+
+"How do men commit suicide?" continued Dick. "I will confine myself to
+four methods: by poison, by hanging, by shooting, by drowning. It
+would have been difficult for Abel Death to purchase poison; his
+nerves were unstrung, and an inquiry for poison across the counter
+would have caused suspicion; the state of agitation he was in would
+have prevented the invention of a plausible explanation. We put poison
+aside. A pistol he could not have possessed, because of his poverty.
+We put shooting aside. Hanging comes next; but if he had resorted to
+that means of ending his life a very few hours would have sufficed to
+make the matter public. There would be no mystery to clear up. This
+reduces us to drowning. The water-ways of London do not hide many
+secrets of this nature, and had he sought death in the river his body
+would have been washed ashore."
+
+"Therefore, Dick," said Inspector Robson, looking at his nephew in
+admiration, "not suicide."
+
+"Therefore, uncle, not suicide."
+
+"He may have run away."
+
+"With what object? His pockets were empty, and the idea of
+unfaithfulness to his wife is preposterous."
+
+"Very well. Let us get back to the main point. What has become of Abel
+Death. We left him in Samuel Boyd's house, and we decide that he did
+not come out of it. I am going to have my say now."
+
+"Fire away."
+
+"The man not coming out of the house, the natural conclusion is that
+he is dead, and if he did not meet his death by suicide there has been
+murder done. To be sure," he said, reflectively, "there are other
+probabilities. He might have had heart disease--might have fallen down
+in a fit which put an end to him. Assuming this, what course would
+Samuel Boyd, or any sensible person, pursue? He would give
+information--his own safety depended upon it. A doctor's certificate
+as to the cause of death would clear him. He does nothing of the sort.
+He keeps himself locked up in the house, and refuses to answer the
+repeated knocks at his street door. I have heard you say he lives
+alone, and that no servant sleeps in the house."
+
+"That is so."
+
+"Catchpole Square leads to nowhere. It is, in a certain sense, out of
+the world. Can you tell me, of your own knowledge, whether Samuel Boyd
+keeps sums of money in his house?"
+
+"Of my own positive knowledge I cannot tell you; but I am convinced
+that he does."
+
+"What we've got to look to in these cases," said Inspector Robson,
+sagely, "is motive--motive. The mainspring in a watch keeps it going;
+motive is the mainspring in a man, and it keeps _him_ going. Now, what
+motive had Samuel Boyd for murdering Abel Death--always supposing,
+Dick, that there was a murder? He had nothing to gain by it, and it
+was not he who went to Abel Death's house, but Abel Death who went to
+his. And went with anger and despair in his heart. Put it the other
+way----yes, by the Lord!" he cried, as if a light had suddenly broken
+upon him. "Put it the other way. There was a motive for Abel Death
+murdering Samuel Boyd. He was poor, and in desperate need of money;
+his master was rich, and had refused to give it to him. The motive was
+robbery, by fair means or foul. If this is what occurred Abel Death's
+disappearance is explained. He's in hiding somewhere, or has managed
+to get on board a ship bound for foreign parts." He broke off with a
+laugh. "What nonsense am I talking? My wits are going wool-gathering.
+You've fairly muddled me, Dick, by the serious way you've spoken of
+this affair, in which, after all, I don't see anything mysterious.
+I've known scores of cases where people have disappeared, and have
+come back after a few days or weeks, or months even, in the most
+natural manner possible. Be careful of what you do, my lad, or you're
+likely to get yourself in a tangle."
+
+"I'll be careful, uncle. You will see me at the magistrate's court in
+the morning. Good night."
+
+"Can't I persuade you to come home with me?" said Inspector Robson, in
+his kindest tone.
+
+"No; my mind's quite made up on that point."
+
+He walked towards the door, Inspector Robson looking ruefully and
+affectionately after him, when he turned and said,
+
+"By the way, uncle, have you seen Mr. Reginald lately?"
+
+"Not since last Sunday week, when he dropped in, as usual. Him and
+Florence went out for a walk together."
+
+"As usual," said Dick, lightly.
+
+"As usual," said Inspector Robson, gravely. "He's a gentlemanly young
+fellow."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Been to France and Germany, and to good schools for education."
+
+"Did he tell you that himself?"
+
+"Florence told us."
+
+"Dear little Florence!" Such wistful tenderness and regret in his
+voice!
+
+"Aunt Rob thinks all the world of him," said Inspector Robson, his
+voice also charged with tenderness and regret.
+
+"I know she does."
+
+Inspector Robson stepped to Dick's side, and laid his hand caressingly
+on the young man's shoulder. "Dick! Dick!"
+
+"No nonsense of that sort, uncle," said Dick, gently shaking himself
+free. "I've been going to ask you once or twice whether you put any
+other name to Reginald."
+
+"Now you mention it, Dick, I never have."
+
+"Has Aunt Rob, or Florence?"
+
+"Not that I'm aware of. We've always called him Mr. Reginald. It's not
+a bad name, Dick."
+
+"Not at all a bad name, but most people have two. Good night, uncle."
+
+"Good night, Dick, if you _must_ go." Other words were struggling to
+his lips, but before he could utter them Dick was off.
+
+"It never struck me before," mused Inspector Robson, sadly. "Can that
+be the reason----" He did not say the reason of what, and his
+cogitation ended with, "Poor Dick! I hope not--I hope not!"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XI.
+
+                   DICK REMINGTON REVIEWS THE PAST.
+
+
+Dick Remington also mused as he made his way through the white mist.
+His thoughts, put into words, ran in this wise:
+
+"Come, old man, let us review the past, and see how we stand. If I'm
+not mistaken Aunt Rob has hit the nail straight on the head, and Uncle
+Rob made a clumsy blow at it. But my secret is mine, and I will guard
+it jealously.
+
+"Dear little Florence! My chum, my comrade, almost from the day of her
+birth. Boys aren't generally fond of babies, but I was of her from the
+first; and when as a child she promised to be my wife when she grew up
+I did not think of it as a thistledown promise that time would lightly
+blow away. At that age we do not think; our hearts, our souls, are
+like a prism which leaps into light and colour when light and colour
+shine upon it. Had I been wiser I might have believed that a more
+enduring flower than thistledown would grow up in its place, a flower
+that would bloom and shed its sweetness and fragrance upon me through
+all the years to come. Thank God I was not wiser, for we were very
+happy then. It was only when graver responsibilities forced themselves
+upon me that I knew, as I know now, that she and she alone could bring
+happiness into my life. Fate willed it otherwise. It can never be.
+
+"Would it have been otherwise had I myself been different from what I
+am, been firmer of purpose, had won respect and esteem for sterling
+qualities that are not in my nature? Who can tell? We are the sport of
+circumstance, and drift, and drift, and drift--as I have drifted. You
+are quite right, Aunt Rob. Your nephew, Dick Remington, has no
+stability--but he can keep his secret.
+
+"Does Florence suspect it? Sometimes I have thought she has a fear
+that the love I bear for her is not the love a brother bears for his
+sister; sometimes I have thought there was a dumb pity in her eyes as
+she looked at me. And when, with this impression upon me, I have
+launched into light speech and manner, as though I were incapable of
+deeper feeling, I have noticed the relief it gave her to learn that
+she was mistaken. Of one thing she may be sure. That there is no
+sacrifice I would hesitate to make to secure her happiness--that she
+may rely upon me and trust me with implicit confidence--that I am
+her faithful watchdog, ready to die in her service without hope of
+reward. Yes, dear Florence--so dear that my heart aches when I think
+of her--be sure of that.
+
+"She grew into beauty incomparable, and to observe this was a daily
+delight to me. But I love her chiefly for her gentleness, her purity,
+her dear womanly ways which find their best expression in her kindness
+and sweetness to all around her. We lived our quiet life, disturbed
+only by my harum-scarum habits, and then Mr. Reginald stepped into the
+picture--Mr. Reginald Boyd, son of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square.
+That was before I took service with the old hunks, and it was because
+of the son that I sought and obtained a situation in the father's
+office. For I said to myself, 'Here is this young gentleman
+introducing himself simply as Mr. Reginald, when I, from my previous
+knowledge of him (of which he was not aware) know him to be the son of
+that man. What reason has he for the suppression?' There was no
+acquaintance between us. Happening to be in conversation one day with
+a constable in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square a young gentleman
+passed with a flower in his coat. There was something in him that
+struck me as bearing a resemblance to myself, the advantage being on
+his side. A free and easy manner, a certain carelessness of gesture,
+an apparent disregard of conventionality, a bright smile (which I have
+not), a grace (which I have not). He gave the constable a friendly
+word and walked on without looking at me. 'Who is that gentleman?' I
+inquired. 'Mr. Reginald,' the constable answered, 'son of Samuel Boyd,
+though you would hardly believe it if you knew the pair of them.' I
+thought no more of the matter, and saw no more of Mr. Reginald, till
+he made his appearance one evening in Aunt Rob's house. He did not
+recognise me, but I knew him immediately.
+
+"We were introduced by Florence. 'My cousin, Dick Remington,' she
+said, 'Mr. Reginald.' There was a blush on her cheek, a shy look in
+her eyes. I waited for his other name. Why did it not come? Because
+the name of Samuel Boyd was held in general detestation? It was a fair
+inference that that was his reason for concealing it.
+
+"He became a regular visitor to the house, and I perceived that his
+visits were eagerly looked forward to by Florence. Have I delayed too
+long? I thought. Have I been foolishly silent as to the real feelings
+I entertain for the dear girl, and given another man the chance of
+occupying the place in her heart which it was my dearest wish to fill?
+The thought was torture; I seemed to awake from a dream. For had I
+spoken in time my love for her might have awakened a responsive echo
+in her breast. I cannot speak with certainty as to this, but it might
+have been. One day I saw Florence and Mr. Reginald walking out
+together, he speaking with animation, she listening modestly with head
+cast down. I was careful that they should not see me. They passed from
+my sight through the garden of hope and love, I pursued my way through
+an arid waste."
+
+Some spiritual resemblance between the arid waste of his hopes and the
+arid waste of white mist through which he was walking seemed to strike
+him here. It brought a sudden chill to his heart. Love that was
+hopeless could have found no more emphatic illustration than the
+silence and desolation by which he was surrounded. The light of heaven
+had died out of the world. No star shone, no moon shed its peaceful
+rays upon the earth, and for a few moments he allowed the deathlike
+lethargy of nature to overpower him. Through the silence stole a
+muffled voice:
+
+"Lost, lost for ever is the love you hoped to gain. Not for you the
+tender look and word, the sweet embrace, love's kiss upon your going
+and returning, the prattle of children's voices, the patter of little
+feet, the clinging of little arms. Not for you the joys of Home!"
+
+So powerfully was he affected by these melancholy thoughts that he
+involuntarily raised his hand, as if to avoid a blow.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XII.
+
+             DICK CONFESSES HOW HE BEHAVED HIMSELF IN THE
+                       SERVICE OF SAMUEL BOYD.
+
+
+But Dick's nature was too elastic for morbid reflections such as these
+to hold possession of him for any length of time.
+
+"Come, come, old man," ran again the tenor of his musings, "this sort
+of thing won't do, you know. What's the use of crying for the moon?
+Leave that to children. Now where did I leave off? Ah--where Mr.
+Reginald was a regular visitor at Aunt Rob's house. All that time the
+name of Boyd was not mentioned by Florence or her parents. Nor did it
+pass my lips.
+
+"I took service with Mr. Samuel Boyd in order to obtain a clue to his
+son's suppression of his name. Before I had been with him a week I
+gauged his character. Devoid of the least sign of generous sentiment,
+crafty, tricky, mean, overbearing to those in his power, fawning
+to those above his station from whom he hoped to obtain some
+advantage--such is the character of this odious man, whose son was
+then winning, or had won, his way into Florence's heart. If there is
+any truth in the adage, 'Like father, like son,' what a fate is in
+store for her! Fervently do I trust that this is not so, though there
+are tricks of inheritance from which it is impossible to escape.
+
+"Not once did I see Mr. Reginald in his father's house, nor did Mr.
+Boyd make the slightest reference to him. Had Mr. Boyd any other
+residence in which he and his son were in the habit of meeting? No--he
+lived in Catchpole Square, had his meals there, slept there,
+transacted his business there. Yet his son was in London, within easy
+distance of him. It was obvious that they were not on friendly terms.
+I set my wits to work to ascertain the cause, but cautious as I was, I
+found myself baffled at every turn. Convinced that Mr. Boyd would turn
+me out of the house the moment his suspicions were aroused, the task I
+had undertaken proved more difficult than I had anticipated. If I kept
+secret watch upon him he kept secret watch upon me. That he had no
+confidence in me is not strange, for he has no confidence in any man.
+And the cunning tricks he played! He would leave me alone and go
+downstairs and slam the street door, to make me believe that he had
+left the house. Then, though not another sound had reached my ears, he
+would suddenly enter the room, treading like a cat, and with a sly
+smile on his lips, and his cunning eyes would wander around to assure
+himself that not an article had been shifted or removed.
+
+"I remained with him three months, and discovered--nothing. During the
+first two months I did not tell them at home where I was employed, and
+they teazed me about making a secret of it. A week or so before I left
+Mr. Boyd's service I fired a shot straight at Mr. Reginald. It was on
+a Sunday, and we were sitting together, chatting as usual, when I said
+suddenly, 'I don't see, Aunt Rob, why I should continue to make a
+mystery of the work I am doing. I am clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square.' Mr. Reginald flushed up, but I took no notice, and
+went on to say that I had resolved not to stay much longer in the
+place--that the pay was miserable, that the kind of business done
+there was disreputable and execrable, and that Samuel Boyd was one of
+the trickiest and cunningest fellows in all London; in fact, I gave
+him the worst of characters, and my only excuse is that he thoroughly
+deserved it. 'That's another situation thrown up,' said Aunt Rob. 'Oh,
+Dick, Dick, a rolling stone gathers no moss.' 'Would you advise me to
+stop with such a man, and gather dirt?' I asked. 'No, I would not,'
+she answered emphatically. 'That Samuel Boyd must be an out-and-out
+rascal.' 'He is,' I said. 'You would hardly believe the things I've
+seen in his office, the pitiless ruin he brings upon people.' Mr.
+Reginald said never a word; the flush died out of his face, and it
+turned white. I looked at Florence--no sign upon _her_ face that she
+knew anything of the man we were speaking of. Here was proof positive
+that Mr. Reginald had introduced himself under false colours.
+
+"As all Mr. Boyd's other clerks had done, _I_ left at a moment's
+notice, but I did not give him the opportunity of discharging me. I
+discharged him. He had played me one of his usual tricks, pretending
+to leave the house and sneaking in noiselessly behind my back and
+looking over my shoulder. It happened that, with my thoughts on
+Florence and Mr. Reginald, I had idly scribbled his name on a piece of
+paper, Mr. Reginald Boyd. Before I could put the paper away he had
+seen it. 'Ah,' he said, without any show of passion, 'I have found you
+out at last, you scoundrel!' 'Scoundrel yourself,' I cried. 'Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, I discharge you. I've had about enough of you.' 'I've had
+more than enough of you,' he snarled. 'You came here to spy upon me,
+did you? You and your Mr. Reginald are confederates, are you, and you
+wormed yourself into my service in pursuance of some plot against me.
+I'll prosecute the pair of you for conspiracy.' 'You are a fool as
+well as a knave, Mr. Samuel Boyd,' I said, laughing in his face. 'As
+for prosecuting me, shall I fetch a policeman, or will you go for one?
+I shall have something to tell him that will get into the papers. It
+will make fine reading.' He turned white at this. 'Go,' he said,
+throwing open the door. And I went, without asking for the five days'
+pay due to me, to which, perhaps, I was not entitled as I left him
+without giving him notice.
+
+"Now, Dick, old man, what is to be done? The straight thing is to
+speak first to Mr. Reginald himself, and that I'll do before I'm many
+days older."
+
+Here Dick's meditations came to an end. There were no indications that
+the fog was clearing, but his service with Samuel Boyd had made him
+familiar with the neighbourhood, and he threaded his way towards
+Catchpole Square without much difficulty. He had not met a soul on the
+road; the streets were quite deserted. "A man could almost fancy," he
+thought, "that he was walking through the vaults of death." In Shore
+Street--the backs of the houses in which faced the fronts of the
+houses in Catchpole Square--he stumbled against a human being who
+caught him by the arm.
+
+"Who are you when you're at home?" demanded the man. "Here--let's have
+a look at you. I've had a large dose of shadders to-night; it's a
+relief to get hold of bone and muscle."
+
+He pulled out his bull's-eye lamp and held it up to Dick's face, who
+laughingly said, "Well, what do you make of my face? You're cleverer
+than I am, Applebee, if you can distinguish features on such a night
+as this."
+
+"Why, if it ain't Mr. Dick Remington!" cried Constable Applebee. "Beg
+your pardon, sir, but I've been that put out to-night that I can't be
+sure of anything. If anybody was to say to me, 'Applebee, that head on
+your shoulders don't belong to you,' I'd half believe him, I would
+indeed, sir. What with shadders that wouldn't give you a civil answer
+when you spoke to 'em, and that you could walk right through, and
+taking hold of flesh and blood that slipped through your fingers
+like a ghost, to say nothing of the fog, which is a pretty large
+order--well, if all that ain't enough to worry a night policeman, I'd
+like to know what is."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XIII.
+
+                   A LIGHT IN THE HOUSE OF DR. PYE.
+
+
+"Worry enough, in all conscience," said Dick, "and you've got a level
+head, too, if any member of the force has. You're the last man I
+should have expected to be scared by shadows."
+
+"Not what you might call scared," replied Constable Applebee,
+unwilling to admit as much to a layman; "put out, sir, put out--that's
+the right word. A man may be put out in so many ways. His wife may put
+him out--and she often does--an underdone chop may put him out--a
+fractious child may put him out--likewise buttons. It's what we're
+born to."
+
+"Well, say put out," said Dick with a hearty laugh. "And by shadows,
+too, of all things in the world! Still, one might be excused on such a
+night as this. The mist floats, shadows rise, and there you are. All
+sorts of fancies crept into my head as I walked along, and if I'd been
+employed on duty as monotonous as yours I have no doubt I should have
+heard sounds and seen shapes that have no existence."
+
+"You talk like a book, sir."
+
+"What was the nature of the flesh and blood that slipped through your
+fingers like a ghost, Applebee?"
+
+"Human nature, sir. I'll take my oath it was a woman. I had her by the
+arm, and presto! she was gone!"
+
+"A woman," said Dick, thinking of Mrs. Death. "Did she have a child
+with her, a poor little mite with a churchyard cough?"
+
+"I don't call to mind a child. It was in Catchpole Square it happened.
+I shall report it."
+
+"Of course you will," said Dick, convinced that it was Mrs. Death, but
+wondering why she should have been so anxious to escape. "Talking of
+Catchpole Square, have you seen anything this last day or two of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Haven't set eyes on him for a week past. To make sure, now--is it a
+week? No, it was Friday night that I saw him last. I can fix the time
+because a carriage pulled up at Deadman's Court, and a lady got out.
+She went through the court, followed by the footman."
+
+"Did she stop long, do you know?"
+
+"Couldn't have stopped very long. I hung about a bit, and when I come
+round again the carriage was driving away. All sorts of people deal
+with Samuel Boyd, poor and rich, high and low. That house of his could
+tell tales."
+
+"So could most houses, Applebee."
+
+"True enough, sir. There's no city in the world so full of mystery as
+London. We're a strange lot, sir. I read in a book once that every
+house contains a skeleton. The human mind, sir," said Constable
+Applebee, philosophically, "the human mind is a box, and no one but
+the man who owns that mind knows what is shut up in it."
+
+It was a pregnant opening for discussion, but Dick did not pursue it.
+He returned to the subject that was engrossing his thoughts.
+
+"Samuel Boyd kept a clerk,----"
+
+"And I pity the poor devil," interjected the constable.
+
+"So do I. The name of his last clerk is Abel Death. You've noticed
+him, I dare say."
+
+"Oh, yes, I've noticed him. A weedy sort of chap--looks as it he had
+all the cares of the world on his shoulders. I didn't know his name,
+though. Abel Death! If it was mine, I'd change it."
+
+"Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Let me think, now. It was Friday night when I saw him last. I noticed
+him particularly, because he staggered a bit, walked zig-zag like, as
+if he'd had a glass too much. That was what I thought at first, but I
+altered my opinion when I caught sight of his face. It wasn't so much
+like a man who'd been drinking, but like one who was fairly demented.
+Any special reason for asking about him, sir?"
+
+"No special reason," replied Dick, not feeling himself justified in
+revealing what had passed in the police station, "You would call Mr.
+Death a respectable person, I suppose?"
+
+"When there's nothing against a man," said Constable Applebee, "you're
+bound in common fairness to call him respectable. From the little I
+know of him I should say, poor, _but_ respectable. If we come to that,
+there's plenty of poor devils in the same boat."
+
+"Too many, Applebee. I can't help thinking of that woman you caught by
+the arm. It was a curious little adventure."
+
+"It was, sir, and I don't know that I was ever more nonplussed.
+There's nothing curious in her being in Catchpole Square. She might
+have slipped in there to sleep the night out, not having money enough
+to pay for a bed. Pond and me happened to meet on the boundary of our
+beats, and we strolled into the Square. I could have swore that she
+was creeping along the wall; perhaps she was scared at the sight of
+us, and had a reason for not wanting to fall in the hands of the law."
+
+"That will hardly hold water," said Dick. "She could have had no
+clearer a sight of you than you had of her. There have been too many
+bad deeds committed in dark places in the dead of the night, and
+seeing something moving that she couldn't account for, she was
+frightened and ran away. Did you call out to her?"
+
+"I did. 'Now, then,' I cried, 'what are you up to?' Not a word did she
+answer. Then I caught hold of her; then she vanished. Which goes to
+prove," said Constable Applebee, contemplatively, "that she wasn't one
+of the regular ones. If she'd been a regular one she'd have cheeked
+us. Not being a regular one, what business did she have there? Anyway
+Catchpole Square ain't exactly the place _I_ would choose for a
+night's lodging."
+
+"Beggars can't be choosers," remarked Dick.
+
+"Right you are, sir. They can't."
+
+The conversation slackened, and the men walked slowly along Shore
+Street, the constable, like a zealous officer, trying the doors and
+looking up at the windows.
+
+"The people inside," he said, "are better off than we are. They're
+snugly tucked up between the sheets, dreaming of pleasanter things
+than tramping a thick fog."
+
+"There's somebody there," said Dick, pointing to a first floor
+window, where, through the mist, a light could be dimly seen,
+"who isn't between the sheets. See how the light shifts, like a
+will-o'-the-wisp."
+
+"That's Dr. Pye's house, where the midnight oil is always burning.
+Yes, he's awake, the doctor; it's my belief he never sleeps. A clever
+gentleman, Dr. Pye, as chockful of science as an egg is of meat. Do
+you happen to be acquainted with him, sir?"
+
+"No."
+
+"A strange character, sir. The things they tell of him is beyond
+belief. I've heard say that he's discovered the secret of prolonging
+life, and of making an old man young."
+
+"But you haven't heard that he has ever done it."
+
+"No, or I might have asked him what his charge was for taking ten or
+twenty years off. Perhaps it's as well, though, to fight shy of that
+sort of thing. What they say of Dr. Pye may be true, or it mayn't, but
+you may make sure that he's always at his experiments. Pass his house
+at any hour of the night you like, and you may depend upon seeing that
+light burning in his window."
+
+"Those are the men who make the wonderful discoveries we hear of from
+time to time. Think of what the world was and what it is. How did
+people do without reading? How did people do without gas? How did they
+do without steam? How did they do without electricity? That little
+light burning in Dr. Pye's window may mean greater wonders than ever
+was found in Aladdin's cave. As Shakespeare says, Applebee, 'What a
+piece of work is man!'"
+
+"Ah," observed Constable Applebee, with a profound shake of his head,
+"he might well say that, sir."
+
+"Putting a supposititious case," said Dick, and as Constable Applebee
+remarked to his wife next day when he gave her an account of this
+conversation, "the way he went on and the words he used fairly
+flabbergasted me"--"Putting a supposititious case, let us suppose that
+you and I fell asleep as we are standing here, and woke up in fifty
+years, what astounding things we should see!"
+
+"It won't bear thinking of, sir."
+
+"Then we won't think of it. Applebee, I am surprised that you have not
+asked me why I am wandering through the streets on such a night and at
+such an hour, when _I_ ought to be snug in bed, dreaming of--angels."
+
+"Who am I, sir, that I should be putting a parcel of questions to
+you?"
+
+"You exhibit a delicacy for which you deserve great credit. I will
+make a clean breast of it, Applebee. The fact is, I am looking for a
+lodging."
+
+"You always _was_ a bit of a wag, sir," said Constable Applebee, with
+twinkling eyes.
+
+"Was I? But I assure you I am not wagging now. Do you know of a room
+to let in a decent house in the neighbourhood, where they would give
+their young man lodger a latchkey?"
+
+"Now, _are_ you serious, sir?"
+
+"As a judge."
+
+"Well, then, there's Constable Pond, sir. He's taken a house in
+Paradise Row, and there's a room to let in it; he mentioned it to me
+only to-night. If you're really in earnest he'd jump at you."
+
+"From which metaphor," said Dick, with mock seriousness, "I judge that
+he would consider me an eminently fit person to be entrusted with a
+latchkey."
+
+"That's the ticket, sir," said Constable Applebee, bursting with
+laughter. "Upon _my_ word, you're the merriest gentleman I've ever
+known. It's as good as a play, it is."
+
+"Better than many I've seen, I hope," said Dick, still with his mock
+serious air, which confirmed Constable Applebee in his belief that the
+young fellow was having a joke with him. "Am I mistaken in supposing
+that there is a Mrs. Pond?"
+
+"To be sure there is, and as nice a woman as ever breathed. No family
+at present, but my missis tells me"--here he dropped his voice, as
+though he were communicating a secret of a sacred nature--"that Mrs.
+Pond has expectations."
+
+"May they be realised in a happy hour! I'll pay a visit to the Ponds
+to-morrow, and if the room is not snapped up in the meantime by
+another person you will hear of me as their young man lodger. Good
+night, Applebee."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Constable Applebee looked after him till he was swallowed up in the
+prevailing gloom, and then resumed his duties.
+
+"What a chap that is!" he ruminated. "You can't mention a subject he
+ain't up in. That notion of his of falling asleep and waking up in
+fifty years ain't half a bad one. He does put ideas into a man's head.
+It's an education to talk to him."
+
+Dick did not hesitate as to his route. Turning the corner of Shore
+Street he walked to Deadman's Court, and through it into Catchpole
+Square, where he paused before the house of Samuel Boyd.
+
+"No midnight oil burning there," he mused, his eyes searching the
+windows for some sign of life. "The place is as still as death itself.
+I'll try Mrs. Death's dodge. If Mr. Boyd comes down I'll ask him if he
+has a room to let."
+
+He smiled at the notion, and applied himself to the knocker. But
+though he knocked, and knocked vigorously again and again, and threw
+stones at the upper panes of glass, and listened at the door, he heard
+no movement within the house.
+
+"There's a mystery inside these walls," said Dick, "and I'll pluck out
+its heart, or know the reason why. But how to obtain an entrance? The
+adjoining houses are empty. Is there a door loose in one of them?"
+
+There was no door loose; even if there had been, Dick, upon
+reflection, did not see how it would have been of assistance to him.
+There was a dead wall at the back of the house.
+
+"That way, perhaps," said Dick.
+
+He left the Square, and groped in the direction of the dead wall. It
+was about ten feet in height--a smooth expanse of cement, with not a
+foothold in it by which he could mount to the top. A rope with a
+grapnel at the end would meet the case, and Dick determined to procure
+one, and pay another visit to the place the following night.
+
+He lingered in the neighbourhood, sitting down on a doorstep now and
+again, and closing his eyes for a few minutes' doze. During these
+intervals of insensibility the strangest fancies presented themselves.
+He was with Mrs. Death and Gracie in the police station, listening to
+the story she had told, which now was exaggerated and distorted in a
+thousand different ways. "My husband, my husband!" she moaned "What
+shall I do without him? What will the children do without him?" The
+police station was instantly crowded with a great number of ragged
+little elfs, who, with misery in their faces, wailed, "What shall we
+do without him? What shall we do without him?" And then, in the midst
+of a sudden silence, Gracie's hoarse voice, saying, "You _will_ find
+father, won't you?" An appeal immediately taken up by the horde of
+children, "You _will_ find father, won't you? You _will_ find father!
+You _will_ find father!" The vision faded, and he saw Abel Death
+staggering through a deserted street in which only one sickly yellow
+light was burning. He was talking to himself, and his face was
+convulsed with passion. Behind him slunk the figure of Samuel
+Boyd--and behind him, Mr. Reginald and Florence. Good God! What
+brought _them_ into the tragic mystery? What possible or impossible
+part had _they_ played in it? The torture of the dreamer's mind was
+momentarily arrested by the ringing out of one dread word, clear and
+shrill as from the mouth of a clarion!
+
+"MURDER!"
+
+Dick started to his feet, his forehead bathed in perspiration. Had the
+word really been uttered, and by whom? He stood in the midst of
+silence and darkness.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIV.
+
+             THE LADY'S HANDKERCHIEF WHICH CONSTABLE POND
+                    PICKED UP IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+
+"The Little Busy Bee" was an afternoon newspaper with a great
+circulation, which took for its motto the familiar lines:--
+
+
+              "How doth the Little Busy Bee
+                 Improve each shining hour,
+               And gather honey all the day
+                 From ev'ry opening flow'r."
+
+
+To this journal Dick had been an occasional contributor, and he was
+responsible for a paragraph which appeared in its columns on the day
+following Mrs. Death's visit to the police station:
+
+"BISHOP STREET POLICE COURT.--A respectable woman, in great distress
+of mind, accompanied by her little daughter, begged permission to make
+a statement to the magistrate. It appears that her husband, Mr. Abel
+Death, residing at 7, Draper's Mews, and employed as a clerk in the
+office of Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, quite suddenly received
+his discharge last Friday night, and came home greatly distressed by
+the dismissal, as well as by pecuniary difficulties and by sickness in
+his family. Later in the night, at about ten o'clock, he went out,
+with the intention, as he stated, of making an appeal to his employer
+to reinstate him. He did not return home, and from that night his wife
+has heard nothing of him. Mrs. Death has been several times to
+Catchpole Square, in the hope of obtaining some information from Mr.
+Boyd, but as her knocking at the door has met with no response the
+presumption is that that gentleman is out of town. The magistrate said
+he was sure the press would give publicity to her husband's
+disappearance, and there was no doubt, if the paragraphs in the papers
+came to Mr. Boyd's notice, that he would write and tell her what he
+knows of the movements of his late clerk. Compassion was aroused by
+the evident ill health of the child, who appears to be suffering from
+bronchial trouble, and whose efforts to restrain herself from
+coughing, in order that the court should not be disturbed, were very
+pitiable. The magistrate awarded the poor woman ten shillings from the
+poor box, and she left the court in the deepest distress, her little
+girl clinging to her gown."
+
+Dick was surprised not to see his uncle in court. Inspector Robson had
+promised to be present, and it was seldom that he broke a promise.
+Ascribing his absence to official duties elsewhere, Dick parted with
+Mrs. Death at the police court door, and promising to call and see her
+next day, he wrote his paragraph for "The Little Busy Bee," and
+leaving it at the office, went to Paradise Row to secure the room
+which Mrs. Pond had to let.
+
+It was that little woman's washing day, and, like the maid in the
+nursery rhyme, she was hanging up clothes in her back yard. Hearing
+the knock she hurried to the door, with her sleeves tucked up to her
+shoulder, and wiping her hands on a towel. She wore an apron with a
+bib, and tucked in the bib was the lady's handkerchief which Constable
+Pond had picked up the previous night. She had been about to plunge it
+into the washtub when she heard the knock, and she had hastily slipped
+it in there as she hurried to the door.
+
+"Constable Applebee tells me you have a room to let," said Dick.
+
+"Yes, we have, sir," replied Mrs. Pond, her rosy face, which was of
+the apple-dumpling order, glowing with delight, "and very good it is
+of him to recommend us. I hope you won't mind the state I'm in. I'm
+doing the washing." She said this very simply; there was no false
+pride about Mrs. Pond.
+
+"I shall ask you to do mine," said Dick, "if the room suits me."
+
+"I shouldn't mind, sir. I'll show you the room if you'll be good
+enough to follow me."
+
+She preceded him up the narrow flight of stairs, and opened the door.
+It was a small room, but it was clean and tidy, and sufficiently
+furnished for Dick's requirements.
+
+"The rent?" asked Dick.
+
+"Would three-and-six a week be too much, sir?" she asked anxiously.
+
+"Not a bit," replied Dick, "if you'll give me a latchkey."
+
+"We can do that, sir. Pond had an extra one made on purpose. 'If it's
+a gentleman,' he said, 'let him have it. If it's a lady she can't have
+a latchkey, no, not if she begged for it on her bended knees.'"
+
+"I'll take the room, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, with a genial smile, "and
+I'll give you a week's rent in advance, if it's only for the
+confidence you place in me."
+
+Nervously plucking at her bib as she received the money, she displaced
+the handkerchief, which fluttered to the ground. Dick stooped to pick
+it up, and his face grew white as he saw, written in marking ink in a
+corner, the name of "Florence." He recognised Florence's writing; at
+that moment he had one at his breast, bearing the same inscription.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XV.
+
+          DICK COMES TO AN ARRANGEMENT WITH CONSTABLE POND.
+
+
+"Dear me, sir!" said Mrs. Pond, who had noticed that he had turned
+pale. "Are you taken ill?"
+
+"It is nothing, nothing," replied Dick, hurriedly, and contradicted
+himself by adding, "It must be the perfume on this handkerchief. There
+are perfumes that make me feel faint."
+
+"I don't think there's any scent on it, sir," said Mrs. Pond,
+"leastways, I didn't notice any. Some scents do have that effect upon
+people. There's a cousin of mine who faints dead away at the smell of
+a hot boiled egg. There's no accounting for things, is there, sir?"
+
+"No, there's not. May I ask if you got this handkerchief from the lady
+whose name is marked on it?"
+
+"Oh, no, sir. Pond gave it me."
+
+"Did _he_ obtain it from the lady?"
+
+"There!" exclaimed Mrs. Pond. "That's just what I said to him. We had
+a regular scene. 'You're jealous, Polly,' he said, laughing, and he
+worked me up so that I as good as threw it in the fire. Then he told
+me that he knew no more about the lady than I did, and that he picked
+it up in the street."
+
+"Whereabouts, Mrs. Pond?"
+
+"He didn't say, sir. It's pretty, ain't it? Quite a lady's. I
+shouldn't have minded if he'd picked up a dozen of 'em. I've got an
+aunt who is always picking up things. It commenced when she was a
+little girl. She found a farthing that had been sanded over, and
+thinking it was a golden sovereign she went into a milk-shop and asked
+for change. She cried her eyes out when they told her what it was,
+There's hardly a week she don't find something. Some people are made
+that way, sir."
+
+"Yes, yes," said Dick, rather impatiently, "is your husband in the
+house? I should like to see him."
+
+"I expect him home every minute, sir. Why, there he is, opening the
+street door just as we're talking of him. If you'll excuse me, sir,
+I'll run down to him."
+
+"Do. And ask him to be kind enough to come up and speak to me."
+
+She nodded, and ran from the room with a light step, leaving the
+handkerchief behind her in her haste to tell her husband that she had
+got a lodger; and presently Constable Pond's heavier step was heard on
+the stairs. His face beamed with satisfaction when Dick, stepping into
+the passage, invited him into the room.
+
+"Can I believe my eyes, sir!" he exclaimed. "This is what I call a
+downright piece of good luck. Well, I _am_ glad to see you here, sir!"
+His eyes fell upon the handkerchief in Dick's hand. "If I don't
+mistake, that's the handkerchief my missis left behind her. She asked
+me to fetch it down to her."
+
+"It is about this handkerchief I wish to speak to you," said Dick;
+"and for the sake of all parties, Constable Pond, it is as well that
+our conversation should be private and confidential."
+
+"Certainly, sir," said Constable Pond, his countenance falling at the
+unusual gravity of Dick's voice and manner.
+
+"She told me you picked it up in the street."
+
+"She told you true, sir."
+
+Now did Constable Pond feel the sting of conscience; now did it
+whisper that he had been guilty of a breach of duty in not depositing
+the handkerchief at the police station, with an account of how he came
+by it; now did the thought of certain penalties afflict him. Here was
+Dick Remington, Inspector Robson's own nephew, opening up a case with
+the unuttered words, "From information received."
+
+"I have a particular reason for wishing to know where, and when, and
+under what circumstances, you found it," said Dick.
+
+"It won't go beyond this room, I hope, sir. You won't use the
+information against me?"
+
+"I give you my word I will not."
+
+"I ought to have handed it in and made my report," said Constable
+Pond, with a rueful air, "but I didn't think there was any harm in my
+giving it to the missis. Applebee and me were in Catchpole Square last
+night, and he was talking of shadders when he thought he saw one. He
+run across and caught hold of it, but it slipped from him and was gone
+like a flash. He called to me and we ran after it through Deadman's
+Court; we couldn't see which way we were going, so we knocked our
+heads together, and my helmet fell off. I stooped to pick it up, and
+there was the handkerchief underneath it. If I had considered a moment
+I shouldn't have put it in my pocket, but we don't always do the thing
+we ought."
+
+"You did not tell Applebee that you had found anything?"
+
+"No, sir, I did not, and sorry enough I am for it now. It sha'n't
+occur again, I promise you."
+
+"As the matter has gone so far without anybody knowing anything about
+it but ourselves, I don't see the necessity of mentioning it to
+anyone."
+
+"If such is your wish, sir," said Constable Pond, gaining confidence,
+"it sha'n't be."
+
+"And tell your wife not to speak about it."
+
+"I'll tell her, sir."
+
+"Because you see, Mr. Pond, as it is too late to undo what's done, it
+might get you into trouble."
+
+"I see that, sir," said Constable Pond, ruefully.
+
+"So there's an end of the matter. As for the handkerchief I'll take
+possession of it, and if it should happen that any question is raised
+concerning it--of which there is not the least probability--I will say
+that _I_ found it. That will clear you entirely."
+
+"I'm ever so much obliged to you for getting me out of the mess," said
+Constable Pond.
+
+Shaking hands with him, Dick accompanied him downstairs, and after
+receiving the latchkey and exchanging a few pleasant words with Mrs.
+Pond, he left the house greatly troubled in his mind.
+
+"There's more in this than meets the eye, Polly," said Constable Pond,
+when he had explained to her what had passed between him and Dick.
+"That young fellow spoke fair and square, but he's got something up
+his sleeve, for all that."
+
+"Oh, you silly!" answered Mrs. Pond. "_I_ know what he's got up his
+sleeve."
+
+"Do you, now?" said Constable Pond, refreshing himself with a kiss.
+"Well, if that don't beat everything! Give it a name, old girl."
+
+"Why, a sweetheart, you goose, and her name's Florence. He's going
+straight to her this minute."
+
+"Is he? Then I hope she'll be able to satisfy him why she was in
+Catchpole Square last night--always supposing that it was her as
+dropped the handkerchief there."
+
+Mrs. Pond was not far wrong, for Dick was now on his way to Aunt Rob's
+house, in the hope of seeing Florence, over whom some trouble seemed
+to be hanging. He tried in vain to rid himself of the belief that it
+was Florence whom Constable Applebee had surprised in Catchpole
+Square; all the probabilities pointed that way. In heaven's name what
+took her there at that hour of the night? Search his mind as he might,
+he could find no answer to the question. The handkerchief was hers,
+but there were a hundred ways of accounting for its being in the
+possession of another woman. Still, the longer he thought the heavier
+seemed to grow the weight of circumstantial evidence. Fearing he knew
+not what he accelerated his steps, as if swiftness of motion would
+ward off the mysterious danger which threatened the woman he adored,
+the woman who could never be his, but for whose dear sake he would
+have shed his heart's blood.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XVI.
+
+                        LETTERS FROM FLORENCE.
+
+
+Aunt Rob, a healthy, homely woman of forty-five, was standing at the
+door of her house, looking up and down the street for the form of one
+she loved, looking up to heaven for a message to ease her bruised
+heart. A terrible blow had fallen upon her home, and the grief, the
+fear, the tortured love in her eyes, were pitiable to see. Before Dick
+was near enough to observe these signs of distress she had caught
+sight of him and was running towards him, the tears streaming down her
+cheeks.
+
+"Oh, Dick, Dick!" she cried. "You have come to tell us about Florence!
+Where is she? What message has she sent? Is she safe, is she well? Why
+don't you speak? Can't you see that I'm heartbroken, heartbroken? For
+God's sake, speak!"
+
+In truth he could not. The overwhelming terror and surprise that fell
+upon him deprived him for a time of the power of speech; he could do
+nothing but stare at her in dismay and alarm. When speech was restored
+to him he said, in a voice as agitated as her own.
+
+"I don't know what you mean, Aunt Rob. I have brought no message from
+Florence. I came to see her." Involuntarily his hand wandered to his
+breast, where Florence's handkerchief lay.
+
+"You are deceiving me," she said, her limbs trembling, her face
+convulsed; "you are punishing me because I said it was time you looked
+after yourself! Perhaps I was as unhappy as you were when you left the
+house. If you had been a little more patient with me you would never
+have gone away." She turned from him, her body shaking with grief.
+
+"Dear Aunt Rob," he said, passing his arm around her, "indeed, indeed
+there is no thought in my mind that is not charged with love for you
+and Uncle Rob and Florence. I would lay down my life for you. I see
+that something terrible has occurred. What is it--where is Florence?
+But, no, don't answer me in the street. Come inside--come, come!"
+
+His heart beat fast and loud as he led the sobbing woman into the
+house.
+
+"Don't shut the door, Dick," she sobbed. "It shall never be said that
+I shut my door against my child. Day and night it shall be open to her
+if she comes back as she went away, a good and innocent girl. But if
+she comes back with the loss of her good name---- Oh, my God! What am
+I saying--what am I saying?"
+
+"Ah," said Dick, in a tone of stern reproof, "what are you saying,
+indeed, Aunt Rob, when you couple Florence's name with thoughts like
+those? You, her mother, who have had daily proofs of her purity and
+goodness! My life upon her innocence--my life, my life! Though all the
+world were against her I would stand by her side, and strike down
+those who dared defame her. For shame, Aunt Rob, for shame!"
+
+"Oh, Dick, you comfort me--you comfort me!" She took his hand, and
+kissed it, and he bent forward and kissed her lips. "I would not have
+said it, but I am torn this way and that with doubt and despair. It's
+the suspense, Dick, the suspense! Oh, Florence, Florence, the best,
+the sweetest, the dearest! Where are you, my dear, where are you?"
+
+"Attend to me, Aunt Rob," said Dick, holding himself in control in
+order that he might the better control her. "You must not go on like
+this--you must calm yourself--for Florence's sake, for your own and
+Uncle Rob's. If I am to be of any assistance--and I am here for that
+purpose, heart and hand--I must know what has happened. Try and be
+calm and strong, as you have always been, and we shall be able to work
+our way through this trouble--yes, we shall. That's right--dry your
+eyes"----
+
+"I have been unkind to you, Dick," she said, with an imploring look at
+him.
+
+"You have never been unkind--to me or to anyone. It isn't in your
+nature. Whatever happens to me I've brought upon myself and I'm going
+to reform and become a pattern to all young fellows who want to be
+Good (with a capital G, please, Aunt Rob) and don't exactly know how
+to set about it."
+
+"You'd put heart in a stone, Dick," said Aunt Rob, checking her sobs.
+"Let me be a minute, and I shall be all right."
+
+The room in which they were conversing looked out upon the street, and
+turning his back upon his aunt while she was battling with her grief,
+he peered this way and that, as she had done, and listened for the
+sound of a familiar footstep in the passage. He raised up a picture of
+Florence running suddenly in, laughing, with her hair tumbling over
+her shoulders, as he had often seen it, and throwing her arms round
+her mother's neck, crying, "Why, what is all this fuss about? Can't a
+girl go out for a walk without turning the house upside down? Oh, you
+foolish people!" And then throwing her arms round _his_ neck in her
+sisterly way, and asking, in pretended anger, what he meant by looking
+as serious as if the world was coming to an end? He could almost hear
+her voice. The room was filled with little mementoes of her, dumb
+memorials with a living spirit in them. There was a framed picture of
+her on the wall, a lovely face, bright and open, brown eyes in which
+dwelt the spirit of truth, dark brown hair with a wilful tendency to
+tumble down and kiss the fair neck--(the most distracting, teasing,
+bewitching hair; in short, Florence's hair)--smiling mouth in which
+there was innocent gaiety, but no sign of weakness; the typical face
+of a young girl of an ingenuous, trustful nature. A close observer
+would have detected in it an underlying earnestness, indicating
+tenacity and firmness of purpose where those qualities were required,
+and would have judged her one who would go straight to her duty and
+brave the consequences, whatever they might be. Gazing at that
+embodiment of happy, healthy springtime Dick said inly, "Florence do
+anything that is not sweet, and pure, and womanly! I would not believe
+it if an angel from heaven came down and told me!"
+
+Aunt Rob turned to him, calmer and more composed. "Tears have done me
+good, Dick," she said. "It would ease a man's heart if he could cry as
+we can."
+
+"We feel as much, Aunt Rob," he replied.
+
+"I don't doubt it, Dick. Uncle Rob went away with dry eyes in a state
+of distraction; he is flying everywhere in search of Florence."
+
+"She has gone?" His voice was strange in his ears. Prepared as he was
+for the news it came as a shock upon him.
+
+"She has gone," said Aunt Rob, covering her face with her hands.
+
+"Don't give way again, aunt. Pull yourself together, and tell me all."
+
+"I will, Dick, as much as I know. You haven't been in the house for a
+fortnight, or you would have noticed that Florence was changed. She
+seldom smiled, she neither played nor sang, her step had lost its
+lightness. She wouldn't let me do anything for her, and I settled it
+in my mind that it was a lover's quarrel. I _must_ speak about Mr.
+Reginald, Dick."
+
+"Yes, aunt, go on."
+
+"We had seen for some time that they were fond of each other. There
+was no regular engagement; it hadn't come to that, but we were young
+ourselves once, and we knew the ways of young people. So we made Mr.
+Reginald welcome, and we saw how happy Florence was to have him with
+us. It was on the tip of my tongue more than once to ask him to tell
+us more about himself than we knew, but Uncle Rob stopped me. 'All in
+good time,' he said, 'a few months, or even a year or two, won't make
+much difference. I'm not in a hurry to get rid of Florence.' More was
+I, but I was beginning to wish that things were settled, whether it
+was to be a long engagement or a short one. There was a change in Mr.
+Reginald, too, I couldn't tell in what way, but there it was in his
+face. He came and dined with us Sunday week, and since then I haven't
+set eyes on him. You know what last night was--the most dreadful fog
+we have had for years. It was at about five o'clock that I saw
+Florence with her hat and mantle on. 'Why, child,' I said to her, 'you
+are never going out in this thick fog!' 'Yes, I am, mother,' she
+answered. 'Don't fear that I shall be lost; I'll soon be back.' She
+was as good as her word, for she was home again before Uncle Rob went
+to the Station, and the three of us had tea together. She helped him
+on with his coat, and I recollected afterwards how she kissed and
+clung to him when he wished her good night. It was in her mind then to
+run away. At eight o'clock there was a knock at the street door, and
+Florence ran out to answer it. She often did so when she expected a
+letter from Mr. Reginald. She kept in the passage a little while and I
+heard the rustling of paper, but she had nothing in her hand when she
+returned to the room. Her face was very white, and she said she had a
+headache, and would go to bed early. I asked her if she had received a
+letter, and she answered, yes, she had, and said, 'Don't ask me any
+questions about it, please, mother.' 'Do answer me only one,' I
+begged. 'Have you and Mr. Reginald quarrelled?' 'Oh, no,' she
+answered, and I knew she was speaking the truth, or she wouldn't have
+answered at all. She was very gentle and quiet, and I thought to
+myself, 'Oh, my dear, my dear, why don't you confide in your mother
+who loves the ground you tread on?' But _you_ know what Florence is,
+Dick. She takes after me in a good many ways. Nothing will make me
+speak if I make up my mind not to, and it's the same with her. See,
+now, how we put our own faults into our children. So we sat at the
+fireside, and I felt as if there was a wall between us. She had some
+sewing in her lap, but not a stitch did she do. There she sat, staring
+into the fire. Ah, I thought, if I could see what you see I should
+know! Suddenly she knelt down and laid her head in my lap, and it was
+as much as I could do to keep back my tears. I could have cried
+easily, but I knew that my dear was in trouble, and that my crying
+would make it worse. Presently she raised her head and said, 'Mother,
+you love father very much.' 'With all my heart, darling,' I answered.
+'And you have always loved him,' she said again, 'and would have
+endured anything for him?' My heart fell as I said that I had always
+loved him, and would do anything in the world for him. She was quiet a
+few minutes, and then she said, 'You mustn't think I have done
+anything wrong, mother.' 'I don't, my dear child, I don't,' I said.
+'It is only,' she said, 'that sometimes we are pulling two ways at
+once.' Then she rose, and sitting by my side, laid her head upon my
+breast. I was nursing my baby again, and would you believe it? I sang
+an old nursery song and kissed and kissed her, and smoothed her
+beautiful hair, and we sat so for quite half an hour almost in
+silence. It was striking nine when she said she would go to bed, and
+as I didn't feel inclined to sit up alone I went to bed, too. We have
+been to bed much earlier, Dick, since you went away. Soon after nine
+all the lights were out and the house was quiet. In the middle of the
+night I woke and went to her room, and called softly, 'Florence!
+Florence!' She didn't answer me, and I was glad to think she was
+asleep. She always keeps her bedroom door locked, or I would have gone
+in. I get up earlier than she does, and I was down before eight; and
+there on the mantelshelf was an envelope addressed, 'For Mother,' in
+Florence's handwriting. There was a key inside, and my heart beat so
+that I thought it would jump out of my body as I flew upstairs and
+opened the door with it. Florence was not in the room, and her bed had
+not been slept in. But on the dressing table, was another envelope
+addressed to me. I tore it open, and this is what I found inside."
+
+She handed a sheet of notepaper to Dick, and he read:
+
+
+"Darling Mother and Father,--I have gone away for a little while
+because it is my duty to go. Do not be uneasy or unhappy about me. I
+am quite safe, and very soon--as soon as ever I can--I will let you
+know where I am, and what it is that took me away. It grieves me
+sorely to give you a moment's pain, but I am doing what I believe is
+right. With a heart full of love for you both, my dear, dear Mother
+and Father,
+
+         "Your Ever Loving and Devoted Daughter,
+
+                                       "Florence."
+
+
+"What do you make of it, Dick?" asked Aunt Rob, her fingers twining
+convulsively.
+
+"I make so much good out of it," he replied, handing the letter back
+to her, "that I wonder at your going on in the way you've done. She
+says she is quite safe, and will let you know soon what took her away.
+What more do you want to convince you that before long the mystery
+will be cleared up? Upon my word, I've a good mind to be downright
+angry with you."
+
+He spoke with so much confidence that she brightened up, but this
+cheerful view of Florence's flight from home was not the genuine
+outcome of his thoughts. Had he not disguised his feelings in his
+desire to comfort Aunt Rob, he would have struck terror to her heart.
+Every incident that presented itself deepened the shadows which
+threatened Florence's safety and the peace and happiness of the home
+of which she was the pride and joy. The latest discovery, that of her
+flight, pointed almost to the certainty of her having been in
+Catchpole Square last night, and to her having dropped the
+handkerchief which Constable Pond had given to his wife. Thankful
+indeed, was Dick that the man had been guilty of a breach of duty. Had
+he delivered up the handkerchief at the Bishop Street Police Station,
+with an account of how he came by it, Florence's father would have
+recognised it as belonging to his daughter, and he would have had an
+agonising duty before him. Perplexed and bewildered as Dick was by
+these developments he succeeded in concealing his anxiety from Aunt
+Rob's observation.
+
+"Have you any idea, Dick, what she means when she speaks of her duty?"
+she asked.
+
+"None whatever," he replied. "Can you give me Mr. Reginald's address?"
+
+"No. I never heard where he lived, and never asked him. He has written
+Florence a good many letters, and now and then she has read me a bit
+out of them, but she never gave me one to read outright myself. She
+has left her desk behind her. Would I be justified in breaking it
+open?"
+
+"No, you would not. It would be showing a sad want of confidence in
+her. At what time do you expect uncle home?"
+
+"I can't say with certainty. He may come in at any minute, or he
+mightn't come home till late. He's hunting high and low for Florence,
+and there's no knowing where he may be. He's got leave for a day's
+absence from the office. You're not going, Dick?" For Dick had put on
+his hat, and was buttoning up his coat.
+
+"I must. I've a lot of business to attend to, and I've an idea of a
+clue which may lead to something."
+
+"You'll be back as soon as you can, won't you? Your room is all
+ready."
+
+"I know. Uncle Rob told me. But I can't come back to-night."
+
+"Oh, Dick, haven't you forgiven me for the hard words I said to you?
+Don't harbour animosity, lad, don't! My temper got the better of
+me----"
+
+"My dear Aunt Rob," said Dick, interrupting her, "no son could love a
+mother more than I love you. If I were base enough to harbour
+animosity towards you or yours I shouldn't deserve to live. There's
+the postman's knock!"
+
+They both ran out for the letter. "It's from Florence--from
+Florence!" cried Aunt Rob.
+
+
+"My Darling Mother and Father" (Florence wrote)--"I am writing a
+hurried line to relieve your anxiety, only to let you know that I am
+safe and well, and that I will write again to-morrow. When you know
+all I am sure you will forgive me. Never forget, dear Mother, what I
+said to you last night, that I have done nothing wrong. God bless you
+both. With my dearest, fondest love,
+
+         "Ever your faithful and affectionate daughter,
+
+                                              "Florence."
+
+
+"If you see Dick, give him my love, and tell him all."
+
+"That ought to satisfy you, Aunt Rob," said Dick. "She is safe, she is
+well. My love to Uncle Rob."
+
+He kissed her, waved his hand, and was gone.
+
+The fog had entirely disappeared, and the contrast between the weather
+of yesterday and that of to-day struck him as no less marked than the
+contrast between himself of yesterday and himself of to-day. Yesterday
+he was one of the idlest of young fellows, lounging about with his
+hands in his pockets, with no work to do, and no prospect of any.
+To-day the hours were not long enough for the work he had to perform.
+As there are sluggish horses which need but the whip to make them go
+like steam, so there are men who cannot work without a strong
+incentive. Dick was of this order, and the incentive which had
+presented itself was in its nature so stirring as to bring into play
+all his mental and physical resources. Thus spurred on, you might have
+searched London through without meeting his match.
+
+The immediate object he had in view was to gain an entrance into the
+house of Samuel Boyd, and this must be done to-night. Whatever
+discoveries he made there, or if he made none, the ground would to
+some extent be cleared. To accomplish his purpose he required a rope,
+with a grapnel at the end of it, strong enough to bear a man's weight.
+His funds were low. Of the sovereign Uncle Rob had given him, 3s. 6d.
+had gone for a week's rent, and 2s. for food; he had 14s. 6d. left.
+Knowing that there was a chance of picking up in some second-hand shop
+a rope and grapnel for half the money which they would cost new, he
+turned down the meanest streets, where humble dealers strove to eke
+out a living. He passed a wardrobe shop in which male and female
+attire of the lowest kind was exposed for sale; a rag and bone shop,
+stuffed with articles fit for the dunghill, and over the door of which
+an Aunt Sally in a perpetual slate of strangulation was spinning round
+and round to the tune of a March wind; a fried fish shop through the
+window of which he saw a frowzy, perspiring woman frying penny pieces
+(heads), three halfpenny pieces (tails), and two penny pieces
+(middles); more wardrobe shops, more fried fish shops, more rag and
+bone shops, with black dolls spinning and strangling. In one of these
+he chanced upon the very thing he needed, and after a heated
+discussion with a dirty-faced old man in list slippers and a greasy
+skull cap, he issued from the fetid air within to the scarcely less
+fetid air without, with the rope and grapnel wrapped in the torn copy
+of an evening paper.
+
+Congratulating himself on his purchase he hurried along, and
+finding himself no farther than half a mile from Draper's Mews, he
+determined--having an hour or two to spare--to go to No. 7, where poor
+little Gracie and her mother resided, for the purpose of ascertaining
+whether anything had been discovered relating to the disappearance of
+Abel Death.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVII.
+
+                       THE LITTLE WASHERWOMAN.
+
+
+Had Dick timed his visit to Draper's Mews a couple of hours earlier he
+would have had a second instance in one day of female hands at the
+wash-tub--in this case not a wash-tub but a cracked and leaky basin,
+from the sides of which the soapy water dripped upon a very thin pair
+of female legs. In the second instance it would not have been a woman
+whom he would have seen, but a child--none other than little Gracie,
+who, with all the importance of budding washerwoman thick upon her
+(although, humanly speaking, her prospects of arriving at that stage
+of distinction appeared to be remote) was washing her brothers' and
+sisters' clothes. The garments were few and in woeful condition, the
+brothers and sisters were many, more or less in a state of nudity.
+There were Eddie, nine years of age, Bertie, eight, Nellie, six,
+Connie, five, Louie, three, Geordie, eighteen months. Six children,
+who, with Gracie, the eldest, comprised the young shoots of the
+genealogical tree belonging to the family of the Deaths. Their home
+comprised two small rooms, with holes in the wall that divided them.
+
+All the children, with the exception of Gracie, were in bed, huddling
+together for warmth, and waiting for the drying of their clothes,
+which Gracie hung upon a line stretching from wall to wall, after
+wringing them out. The youngsters were not unhappy; the ten shillings
+from the poor box which the benevolent magistrate had given to Mrs.
+Death dropped upon her like manna from heaven. On their way home she
+and Gracie had spent fifteen pence, and the children had had a full
+meal. What cause for unhappiness when their little stomachs were
+filled? That is the test stone. Think of it, comfortable ones of the
+earth. Fifteen pence to make seven children happy!
+
+Gracie alone recognised what was meant by the disappearance of their
+father, the breadwinner, their father with his anxious face and
+threadbare clothes. The other children could not understand. It was
+merciful. Father had gone away; he would come back again with a little
+paper bag of brandy balls for them to suck. Abel Death was fond of his
+children, and once a week he gave them this treat. How they looked
+forward to it--how they watched for his coming--how their faces would
+light up when he pulled the bag out of his pocket! Brandy balls are an
+economical sweet; there is a magic in the very name. Brandy balls!
+They are hard, not to say stony, and if they are sucked fair they last
+a long time. Eddie once bolted one whole. He never forgot it; the
+taste of the physic he was made to swallow, the shaking and the
+slapping, made him very repentant; but he thought of it ever
+afterwards with a fearful joy, as of one who had performed a rash and
+daring deed, and came out of it alive. Sometimes the children were in
+rivalry as to which brandy ball would last the longest. Sad to relate,
+the exultation of the victor made the others cry. The way of
+conquerors is always watered with tears.
+
+On this afternoon Gracie was the mistress of the house. Mrs. Death had
+heard of a half day's washing-up of plates and dishes at a German club
+in the neighbourhood where a festival was being held; and she dared
+not neglect the opportunity of earning ninepence. She left careful
+instructions that if father _should_ happen to come back during her
+absence Gracie was to run like lightning to the club and fetch her
+home. She had no hope of it, but she had read of miracles in the
+Bible.
+
+So the child stood at the wash-tub, soaping poor little petticoats and
+stockings with zeal and diligence, holding each garment up to the
+light and criticising its condition with the eye of an expert. Now and
+then she shook her head, as though in answer to a question whether
+this or that tattered article of clothing could be mended; and, the
+point being settled, plunged it into the wash-tub again for an extra
+soaping to make up for tatters. And the marvellous patience with which
+she pursued her task, the absence of anything in the shape of
+rebellion or protest that she, so young in years, should be set to it!
+If ever suffering mortal deserved a medal for duty done in the teeth
+of adverse circumstance, against odds so terrible that the coldest
+heart must have been moved to pity to witness it, Gracie surely had
+earned it. But there is no established order on earth for the bestowal
+of honours in such a cause. Crosses and broad ribbons and sparkling
+stars are for deeds far different from the devoted heroism she
+displayed. But a record is kept in Heaven, Gracie, and angels are
+looking down upon you. How astonished would she have been to know it!
+She suffered--ah, how she suffered! Every few minutes she was
+compelled to stop and fight the demon in her chest that scraped and
+scraped her brittle bones with fiendish cruelty--tearing at her,
+choking her, robbing her of breath, while she stamped her feet and
+beat her hands together.
+
+"Oh, I say! Gracie's going it," observed Bertie, the low comedian and
+mimic of the family, and as is the case with better known low
+comedians when they give utterance to nothing particularly witty, the
+young audience began to laugh.
+
+"Show us, Bertie," they cried. "Do it!"
+
+Whereupon, with his own vocal organs, Bertie reproduced Gracie's
+racking cough. The other children attempted the imitation, but none
+with success, and he accompanied the cough, moreover, with such an
+expression of woe upon his face, that the children were lost in
+admiration. Spurred to greater efforts by their approval he wound up
+with so faithful a reproduction of Gracie in the last exhausting stage
+of a paroxysm that it brought down the house.
+
+"Is that like it, Gracie?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," she answered, with unmoved face, "that's like it."
+
+One of the children, burning with envy at her brother's histrionic
+triumph, expressed her feelings with her legs.
+
+"Connie's kicking me, Gracie," cried Bertie, at the same time
+returning the kicks beneath the bedclothes.
+
+"If you don't leave off," said Gracie, impassively, "I'll come and
+slap you."
+
+She had to be very careful with the children's underclothing. So full
+of holes and rents were they that the least violence would have
+wrought irremediable havoc among them--and where was mother to get the
+money from to buy new ones?
+
+"There," she said, hanging the last garment on the line, and wiping
+her hands and arms on her wet apron, "that job's done."
+
+The children raised a cheer, and simultaneously sat up in bed in a
+state of eager expectation. Six little heads nestling close, six eager
+faces turned towards Gracie. They had not a clear view of her, because
+night was coming on.
+
+"Wait a bit," she said, "we must have a light, and I must make up the
+fire."
+
+It was a very small fire, the capacity of the stove being
+circumscribed by a large brick on either side, placed there for the
+sake of economy. Gracie put on half a dozen little pieces of coal with
+miser-like care, taking as much pains to arrange them as if they were
+precious stones, as indeed they were. A tiny flame shot out and shone
+upon her face; with her black eyes and black hair she looked like a
+goblin beneath this fitful illumination. Then she rose and lighted a
+tallow candle, placing it on a deal table, which she drew close to the
+bed. The table was bare of covering, and presented a bald white space,
+Gracie having given it a good scrubbing before she commenced her
+washing. Seating herself on a wooden chair she took from a drawer some
+broken ends of chalk of different colours, yellow, green, and
+vermilion being the predominant hues. The excitement of the children
+grew to fever height.
+
+Gracie had a gift which comes by nature. She was magnetic, and could
+tell a story in such a manner as to absorb the attention of her
+hearers. It is true that she only told stories to her brothers and
+sisters, who might have been considered a partial audience, but that
+she was capable of taking their imaginations captive and leading them
+in any direction she pleased--through gilded hall or dismal dungeon,
+through enchanted forest or dark morass--may be accepted as a token
+that, grown to womanhood and appealing to a more experienced audience,
+her success would be no less complete. To look at that apparently
+insensible face and at that coal black eye, unillumined by the fire of
+fancy, and to listen to that listless voice when she discoursed upon
+mundane affairs, no one would have imagined that it was in her power
+to rivet the attention, to fascinate and absorb. It is, however, just
+those faces which go towards the making of a great actor. A blank
+space waiting to be written upon, ready for the kindling of the spark
+which unlocks the gates of imagination and lays all the world of fancy
+open to the view. Then do merry elves peep out from beds of flowers,
+and fairy forms dance in the light of moon and stars; then do
+enchanted castles gleam in the eye of the sun, and gloomy caverns open
+wide their jaws and breathe destruction on all who venture within
+their shadowed walls.
+
+Many such romances had Gracie told the children, with appropriate
+pictorial illustration in colours, but she came down to earth
+occasionally, and condescended to use materials more modern; but even
+these familiar subjects were decorated with flowers of quaint fancy
+and invested by her with captivating charm. Sometimes she mingled the
+two together, and produced the oddest effects.
+
+The secret of the coloured chalks was this. Not long ago there lived
+in the house an artist who strove to earn a living by painting on the
+pavements of the city the impossible salmon and the equally impossible
+sunset. But though he used the most lurid colours he did not find
+himself appreciated, and, taking a liking to Gracie, he poured into
+her ears tales of disappointed ambition and unrecognised genius, to
+which she listened with sympathetic soul. Emulous of his gifts she
+coaxed him into giving her a few lessons, and in a short time could
+also paint the impossible salmon and the equally impossible sunset.
+One day he said, "Gracie, I am leaving this wretched country, which is
+not a country for artists. I bequeath to you my genius and my stock of
+coloured chalks. But do not deceive yourself; they will bring you only
+disappointment, and do not blame me if you die unhonoured, and unwept,
+and unsung." With these despairing words he bade her an affectionate,
+if gloomy, farewell. Gracie did not share his despair, and had little
+understanding of the words in which it was expressed. The legacy was a
+God-send to her and to the children whom she would enthral with her
+flights of imagination, with coloured illustrations on the deal table.
+
+She related to them now some weird tale of a beautiful young
+princess--(behold the beautiful young princess, with vermilion lips
+and cheeks, green eyes starting out of her head, and yellow hair
+trailing to her heels)--and a gallant young prince--(behold the
+gallant young prince, with vermilion lips and cheeks, staring green
+eyes, and yellow hair carefully parted in the middle)--mounted on a
+fiery steed--(behold the fiery steed, its legs very wide apart, also
+with green eyes, vermilion nostrils, and a long yellow tail)--who,
+with certain wicked personages, went through astounding adventures,
+which doubtless would all have come right in the end had Gracie not
+been seized with a fit of coughing so violent that she fell back in
+her chair, spasmodically catching and fighting for her breath.
+
+Two persons mounted the stairs at this crisis, a man and a woman, and
+both hastened their steps at these sounds of distress. Mrs. Death
+flung the door open and hastened to Gracie's side not noticing Dick,
+who followed her.
+
+"My dear child--my dear child!" said Mrs. Death, taking her clammy
+hand and holding the exhausted girl in her motherly arms.
+
+"I'm all right, mother," gasped Gracie, presently, regaining her
+breath. "Don't you worry about me. There--I'm better already!" She was
+the first to see Dick, and she started up. "Mother--look! The
+gentleman from the police station! Have you found father, sir?"
+
+"I beg your pardon for intruding," said Dick to the woman. "I came to
+speak to you, and when I was wondering which part of the house you
+lived in I heard your little girl coughing, and I followed you
+upstairs." He gazed in amazement at the astonishing pictures on the
+table. "Did Gracie draw these?"
+
+Six little heads popped up from the bed, and six young voices piped,
+"Yes, she did. Ain't she clever? And she was telling us such a
+beautiful story!"
+
+"Be quiet, children," said Mrs. Death; and turning anxiously to Dick,
+"Have you any news of my husband, sir?"
+
+"I am sorry to say I have not," he replied; "but your visit to the
+magistrate is in the papers, and good is sure to come of it. Have you
+got a teaspoon?"
+
+With a pitying remembrance of Gracie's cough he had purchased a bottle
+of syrup of squills, a teaspoonful of which he administered to the
+child, who looked up into his face with gratitude in her soul if not
+in her eyes.
+
+"It's nice and warm," she said, rubbing her chest. "It goes right to
+the spot."
+
+"Let her take it from time to time," said Dick to Mrs. Death. "I will
+bring another bottle in a day or two. Now can I have a few words with
+you about your husband?"
+
+"Yes, sir, if you'll step into the next room."
+
+"I like brandy balls," cried Connie.
+
+"So do I--so do I!" in a clamour of voices from the other children.
+
+"And so do I," said Dick. "You shall have some."
+
+"Hush, children!" said Mrs. Death. "I'm ashamed of you! I hope you'll
+excuse them, sir. Keep them quiet, Gracie, while the gentleman and I
+are talking. It doesn't do, sir,"--this in a low tone to Dick as he
+followed her into the adjoining room--"to speak too freely before
+children about trouble. It will come quickly enough to them, poor
+things!"
+
+Dick nodded. "I wish you to believe, Mrs. Death, that I earnestly
+desire to help you out of your trouble, and that I may be of more
+assistance to you than most people. I say this to satisfy you that I
+am not here out of mere idle curiosity."
+
+"I am sure you are not, sir, and I'm ever so much obliged to you for
+the kindness you've shown. The syrup of squills has done Gracie a lot
+of good already; but I don't see how you can help us."
+
+"It may be in my power, if you will give me your confidence."
+
+"I'd be sorry to throw away a chance, sir. What is it you want to
+know?"
+
+"I want you to tell me the reason why Mr. Samuel Boyd discharged your
+husband."
+
+"There's not much to tell, sir. Where shall I commence?"
+
+"On Friday morning, when your husband went to the office: and don't
+keep anything back that comes to your mind."
+
+"I won't, sir. He went away as usual, and it was our belief that he
+had given Mr. Boyd every satisfaction. I told you at the police
+station how we had hopes that Mr. Boyd would lend us a few pounds to
+get us out of our difficulty with the moneylender. I'm afraid every
+minute of the home being sold over our heads. We've only got a few
+bits of sticks, but we shouldn't know what to do without them. Mr.
+Boyd's a hard master, sir, and regularly every Saturday, when he paid
+my husband his wages, he grumbled that he was being robbed. My poor
+husband worked for him like a slave, and over and over again was kept
+in the office till ten and eleven o'clock at night without getting a
+sixpence overtime. It wasn't a bed of roses, I tell you that, sir;
+nothing but finding fault from morning to night, and he was always on
+the watch to catch my husband in some neglect of duty. On Friday
+afternoon, when he went out of the house on some business or other,
+his orders to my husband were that he was not to stir out of the
+office; if people knocked at the street door let them knock; he wasn't
+to answer them, but to keep himself shut up in the office. Those were
+the orders given, and my husband was careful to obey them. Two or
+three hours after Mr. Boyd was gone there came a knock at the street
+door, and my husband took no notice. The knock was repeated two or
+three times, but still he took no notice. Presently he heard a step on
+the stairs, and he thought it was Mr. Boyd come back, and who had
+knocked at the door to try him. It wasn't Mr. Boyd, sir. The gentleman
+who came into the room was Mr. Reginald."
+
+Taken by surprise at this unexpected piece of information, Dick cried,
+"Mr. Reginald!"
+
+"Mr. Boyd's son, sir. He and his father had a quarrel a long while
+ago, and Mr. Boyd turned him out of the house."
+
+"But if the street door was not opened to Mr. Reginald, how did he get
+in?"
+
+"He had a latchkey, which he told my husband he had taken with him
+when his father turned him off."
+
+A light seemed to be breaking upon Dick; all this was new to him. "At
+what time did you say Mr. Reginald entered his father's house?"
+
+"It must have been about six o'clock. When he heard that his father
+was not at home he said he would wait; but my husband begged him not
+to, and asked him to go away. He seemed so bent upon seeing his
+father--he used the word 'must,' my husband told me--that it was hard
+to persuade him, but at last he consented, and said he would call
+again at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be alone."
+
+The light grew stronger, and it was only by an effort that Dick was
+able to suppress his agitation. He recalled the conversation he had
+had with his uncle the previous night at the police station, and the
+remark that towards the elucidation of the mystery there were many
+doors open. Here was another door which seemed to furnish a pregnant
+clue, and it terrified him to think that it might lead to a discovery
+in which all hopes of Florence's happiness would be destroyed.
+
+"Yes," he said, "at ten o'clock, when Mr. Boyd would be sure to be
+alone."
+
+"Then my husband, remembering the caution given him by Mr. Boyd that
+nobody was to be allowed to enter the house during his absence, asked
+the young gentleman not to mention to his father that he had already
+paid one visit to the house. You see, sir, my husband feared that he
+would be blamed for it, and be turned away, as the other clerks had
+been, for Mr. Boyd is of that suspicious nature that he doesn't
+believe a word any man says. The young gentleman gave the promise and
+went away."
+
+"Did Mr. Reginald say why he wanted to see his father?"
+
+"Not directly, sir; but my husband gathered that the young gentleman
+had come down in the world, and was in need of money."
+
+"Ah! Go on, please."
+
+"When Mr. Boyd came back he asked if any one had called; my husband
+answered no. 'Then no person has been in the house while I was away?'
+he said, and my husband said no person had been there. Upon that my
+husband was surprised by his being asked to put his office slippers on
+the table, and was still more surprised to see Mr. Boyd examining the
+soles through a magnifying glass. Oh, but he is a cunning gentleman is
+Mr. Samuel Boyd! And when the examination was over he gave my poor
+husband his discharge, without a single word of warning. My husband
+was dumbfounded, and asked what he was being sent away in that manner
+for. Then the hardhearted gentleman said he had set a trap for him;
+that before he left the house he had put on the stairs eight little
+pieces of paper with bits of wax on the top of them, so that any one
+treading on them would be sure to take them up on the soles of his
+boots; and that when he came back six of the eight pieces were gone.
+It was an artful trick, wasn't it, sir? My poor husband did then what
+he ought to have done at first; he confessed the truth, that Mr.
+Reginald _had_ been there. When Mr. Boyd heard that his son had been
+in the house he got into a fearful rage, and said that Mr. Reginald
+and my husband were in a conspiracy to rob him, which, of course, my
+husband denied. He begged Mr. Boyd to take back the discharge, but he
+would not listen to him, and the end of it was that he came home
+brokenhearted. You see our home, sir; wasn't the prospect of not being
+able to earn bread for us enough to break any man's heart?"
+
+"Indeed it was," said Dick. "And that is all you can tell me?"
+
+"It is all I know, sir."
+
+"I think you said last night that it was about half-past nine when Mr.
+Death went to Catchpole Square the second time."
+
+"As near as I can remember, sir."
+
+"Within half an hour," he thought, "of Mr. Reginald's second visit."
+"Thank you, Mrs. Death," he said; "you may depend upon my doing my
+best to clear things up, and you shall soon hear from me again. I may
+call upon you without ceremony."
+
+"You will be always welcome, sir, but it's a poor place for you to
+come to."
+
+"I don't live in a palace myself," he said, with an attempt at gaiety.
+Taking his rope and grapnel, still wrapped in the evening paper, he
+held out his hand to wish her good-night (with the kind thought in his
+mind of sending a doctor to Gracie), when a man's voice was heard in
+the passage, inquiring in a gentle voice whether Mrs. Death lived
+there.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XVIII.
+
+               DR. PYE'S FRIEND, OF THE NAME OF VINSEN.
+
+
+They went out together to ascertain who it was, and the man repeated
+his question, and observed that it was very dark there.
+
+"I'll get a light, sir," said Mrs. Death in an agitated tone. "I hope
+you haven't brought me bad news."
+
+"No," the man answered, "good news I trust you will find it. I have
+come to attend to your little girl, who, I hear, has a bad attack of
+bronchitis."
+
+"Are you a doctor, sir?" she asked.
+
+"Yes, I am a doctor," he answered. "Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"It's very good of you, sir, and Gracie is suffering awfully, but I am
+afraid there is some mistake. I didn't send for you."
+
+"Now why did you not send for me," he said, in a tone of gentle
+banter. "In the first place, because you don't know where I live.
+In the second place, because you can't afford to pay me; but that
+will not matter. Why should it? Dear, dear, dear! What is money?
+Dross--nothing more. Never mind the light; I can see very well--very
+well."
+
+They were now in the room where the children were, who, sitting up in
+bed, stared open-mouthed at the gentleman with his glossy silk hat and
+his yellow kid gloves, and his double gold watchchain hanging across
+his waistcoat. He was a portly gentleman, and when he took off his hat
+he exhibited a bald head, with a yellow fringe of hair round it, like
+a halo. His face was fleshy and of mild expression, his eyes rather
+small and sleepy, and there was, in those features and in his general
+appearance, an air of benevolent prosperity.
+
+"Pictures," he said, looking at the coloured drawings on the table.
+"Most interesting. And the artist?"
+
+"My little girl, sir," said Mrs. Death, looking anxiously at him; "she
+does it to amuse the children."
+
+"Remarkably clever," he said. "_Re_-markably clever. Dear, dear, dear!
+A budding genius--quite a bud-ding ge-nius. But time presses. Allow me
+to explain."
+
+"Won't you take a chair, sir?" said Mrs. Death, wiping one with her
+apron, and placing it for him.
+
+"Thank you. The explanation is as follows--as follows. A friend of
+mine reading in the evening papers an account of your application at
+the Bishop Street Police Court this morning--pray accept my sympathy,
+my dear madam, my sym-pathy--and of the evident illness of the little
+girl who accompanied you, has asked me to call and see if I can do
+anything for you--anything for you." His habit of repeating his words,
+and of occasionally splitting them into accented syllables, seemed to
+fit in with his gentle voice and his generally benevolent air.
+
+"May I inquire the name of your kind friend?" asked Mrs. Death.
+
+"Certainly--cer-tainly," replied Dr. Vinsen. "It is Dr. Pye, of Shore
+Street."
+
+"The scientist," said Dick.
+
+"The scientist," said Dr. Vinsen. "A man of science and a man of
+heart. The two things are not incompatible--not incom-patible. He
+asked me also to ascertain whether you have heard anything of your
+husband."
+
+"I have heard nothing of him, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sob in her
+throat.
+
+"Sad, sad, sad! But have hope, my dear madam. There is a special
+providence in the fall of a sparrow, and you may depend upon it that
+this special providence is watching over you, and will bring your
+husband back--your husband back." He turned to Dick. "Related to the
+family, I presume?"
+
+"No," said Dick, "I am here simply as a friend, to assist Mrs. Death
+in her search for her husband."
+
+"A very worthy endeavour. Would it be considered impertinent if I
+inquired the name of the gentleman who evinces so deep an interest in
+this very distressing matter?"
+
+"My name is Dick Remington. I've grown so accustomed to Dick that I
+should hardly know myself as Richard."
+
+Dr. Vinsen's eyes gave faint indications of amusement--eyes so sleepy
+could do no more than that--and he passed his hands over and over each
+other, as though, like Miss Kilmansegg's father, he was washing them
+with invisible soap in imperceptible water. At this point Gracie, who
+had been trying with all her might and main to hold herself in, burst
+into a furious fit of coughing. "Dear, dear, dear!" said Dr. Vinsen.
+"Let us see what we can do for you, my child."
+
+Taking a stethoscope out of his hat he proceeded to make an
+examination of Gracie's lungs and chest, a proceeding which Gracie
+viewed with indifference and the other children with awe. In the
+course of his examination he made such comments, under his breath,
+as--
+
+"Dear, dear, dear! Nothing but skin and bone--but skin _and_ bone!
+Sad, very sad! Neglected another week the result would have been--but
+I will not distress you. Wrap yourself up, child. My dear madam, you
+must keep little Gracie--sweet name--in bed for a few days. Doubtless
+you have a bronchitis kettle."
+
+"No, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a forlorn look.
+
+"Don't you worry, mother," protested Gracie. "I don't want any
+kettles. What's the use of kettles? _I'm_ all right, I am."
+
+"No, my dear child," said Dr. Vinsen, "allow _me_ to know. You must
+have a linseed poultice on--your mother will see to it--and when I
+come again I will bring you some medicine. Permit me, Mrs. Death--a
+few words in private--a corner of the room will do."
+
+They withdrew into a corner, and Dick heard the chink of coin.
+
+"I will call to-morrow," said Dr. Vinsen, the private conference
+ended, "to see how we are getting on--how we are get-ting on. Nay, my
+dear madam--tears!--summon your fortitude, your strength of mind--but
+still, a gratifying tribute--a gra-ti-fy-ing tri-bute." Hat in hand,
+he shook hands with all in the room, a ceremony attended by
+considerable difficulty in consequence of the shyness of the children,
+but he would not let them off. "Dear, dear, dear! One, two, three,
+four, five, six, and our little Gracie makes seven--really, my dear
+madam, really! Good evening, Mr.--Mr.--dear me, my memory!"
+
+"Dick Remington," said Dick.
+
+"To be sure. Mr. Dick Remington. Good evening." Mrs. Death, candle in
+hand, waited to light him down. "So kind of you, but the passages
+_are_ rather dark." Those left in the darkened room heard his voice
+dying away in the words, "_Are_ ra-ther dark."
+
+When Mrs. Death re-entered the room, her face was flushed. Beckoning
+Dick aside she said in an excited tone, "He has given me two
+sovereigns. God bless him! It is like a light shining upon me. If only
+I could find my husband! Children, be good, and you shall have
+something nice for supper."
+
+"I'll run and get the linseed for you," said Dick, "while you put
+Gracie to bed."
+
+He was soon back, and Mrs. Death met him in the passage.
+
+"I can manage now, sir, thank you," she said, "but Gracie wants to wish
+you good night."
+
+Gracie coming to the door with an old blanket round her, he bent down
+and put his lips to her white face.
+
+"_That's_ what I wanted," she whispered, and kissed him. "You're a
+good sort, you are." He slipped a paper bag into her hand. "What's
+this for?"
+
+"Brandy balls for the young 'uns," he answered, and scudded away.
+
+"Oh, you _are_ a one!" she shouted hoarsely.
+
+"God bless you, Gracie!" he shouted back.
+
+"That's a windfall for Mrs. Death," he muttered when he was clear of
+Draper's Mews, "and may be the saving of Gracie. Dear little mite!
+Almost a skeleton, and the heart of a lion. Learn a lesson from her,
+Dick, and meet your own troubles like a man, and do your work, my lad,
+like one. It's brutal to be ungrateful, but still
+
+
+              "I do not like thee, Dr. Fell,
+               The reason why I cannot tell,
+               But this I know, and know full well,
+               I do not like thee, Dr. Fell."
+
+
+Now, who could Dick have been referring to as he repeated these lines
+with a thoughtful face? Certainly not to Dr. Fell. He was not
+acquainted with that gentleman.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XIX.
+
+           DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS
+                             OPERATIONS.
+
+
+The night was well on by this time, and though he did not intend to
+commence operations in Catchpole Square before midnight, there was
+plenty for him to do in the meantime. He made his way, therefore, with
+all expedition to his lodgings, fortifying himself on the road with a
+substantial meal at a cheap restaurant, and purchasing candles,
+matches, and half a pint of brandy. His spirits rose at the prospect
+of adventure; there is nothing like the uncertain to keep the blood at
+fever heat.
+
+Mrs. Applebee was keeping Mrs. Pond company when he put his latchkey
+in the street door. Mrs. Pond had told Mrs. Applebee of her good
+fortune in securing so eligible a lodger, and Mrs. Applebee had
+narrated the conversation which Dick and her husband had had on the
+previous night.
+
+"Applebee said he never did hear a young man go on so," said Mrs.
+Applebee. "All I hope is he won't give you any trouble."
+
+"What makes you say that?" inquired Mrs. Pond.
+
+"Well, my dear, it was a queer time for a young man to be looking for
+lodgings on a night like that, when he couldn't see a yard before
+him."
+
+"That was only his joke," responded Mrs. Pond; "he's as nice a
+gentleman as ever you set eyes on. I do believe that's him coming in
+now. I must give him a candle."
+
+"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Pond," said Dick, taking the candlestick from
+her.
+
+"Can I do anything for you, sir?" she asked.
+
+"Well, yes. Perhaps you can oblige me with an empty bottle, a large
+one with a cork."
+
+She had one in the cupboard, and she brought it out to him.
+
+"It's had vinegar it, sir."
+
+"That won't matter. Many thanks."
+
+In the room above Dick set about his preparations for an invasion of
+Samuel Boyd's house. He made a careful examination of the rope and
+grapnel, and was satisfied that the rope would bear his weight and the
+grapnel catch on the top of the wall. Everything being ready, he
+waited for midnight, deeming it advisable not to go out till then, for
+there was no object in his roaming about the streets. He heard Mrs.
+Applebee bid Mrs. Pond good night, which was only preliminary to a
+long chat between the ladies, first in the passage, afterwards at the
+street door. Then he heard the door closed, and listened to hear if
+his landlady locked it. No sound of this reached his ears, and shortly
+afterwards all was silent in the house, Mrs. Pond having retired to
+rest. For a reason which he could not have explained he tumbled the
+bedclothes about, as if they had been slept in. He did not possess a
+watch, and he had to judge the time as well as he could. When he
+believed it to be near the hour he softly left the room, locked it,
+pocketed the key, and stepping like a cat, went downstairs and opened
+the street door. Hoping that it would not alarm Mrs. Pond he shut it
+as quietly as was possible, and, with the rope round his waistcoat and
+concealed by his coat, he turned his face in the direction of
+Catchpole Square. "I'm in for it now," he thought. "I feel like a
+burglar, out on his first job."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XX.
+
+                       DICK MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+
+His familiarity with the regulations and movements of the police
+hailing from the Bishop Street Police Station was of assistance to
+him. He knew that one end of Constable Applebee's beat was close to
+Catchpole Square, and his design was to watch for that officer's
+approach, and to remain hidden till he turned in the opposite
+direction. This would ensure him freedom of action for some fifteen or
+twenty minutes, time sufficient to enable him to mount the wall. He
+experienced little difficulty in the execution of this design.
+Constable Applebee sauntered to the end of his beat, lingered a moment
+or two, and then began to retrace his steps. Dick now prepared for
+action. "I really think," he mused, "that I should shine as a
+burglar."
+
+There were few persons in the streets, and none in the thoroughfare on
+which the dead wall abutted. The first step to be taken was to
+ascertain if any person was in the house. He turned, therefore, into
+Catchpole Square, and looked up at the windows. There was no light in
+them, and from the position in which he stood he could discern no
+signs of life within. No long neglected cemetery could have presented
+a more desolate appearance. He knocked at the door, and his summons,
+many times repeated, met with no response. Dick did all this in a
+leisurely manner, being prepared with an answer in case an explanation
+was demanded. So absolutely imperative was it that he should be
+convinced that the house was uninhabited before he forced an entrance
+that he kept in the Square fully a quarter of an hour, at the
+expiration of which he passed through Deadman's Court, and was once
+more in front of the dead wall. Stealing to each end of the
+thoroughfare to see that no person was in view, he unwound the rope
+from his body, and fixed upon the spot to fling the grapnel. The first
+throw was unsuccessful; and the second; but at the third the grapnel
+caught, and Dick pulled at it hard in order to be sure that it was
+fast. Then, moistening the palms of his hands, and muttering, "Now,
+then, old Jack and the beanstalk," he commenced to climb.
+
+It was not an easy task, partly in consequence of his inexperience at
+this kind of work, and partly because of the bulging of the large
+bottle of water under his waistcoat. But Dick was not to be beaten;
+not only were all the latent forces of his mind in full play, but all
+the latent forces of his body, and though his hands were chafed in the
+execution of the task, and the perspiration streamed down his face, he
+reached the top of the wall in safety, and with the bottle unbroken.
+
+"Bravo, Dick," he gasped, pausing to recover his breath. "Humpty
+Dumpty sat on a wall, I hope Humpty Dumpty won't have a bad fall. Take
+care of yourself, Dick, for my sake."
+
+Drawing up the rope he reversed the grapnel, fixed it tight, let the
+rope drop on the inner side of the wall, and slid nimbly down.
+
+He looked around. There were windows at the back, most of them masked
+with inside shutters, as they had been for years. To each of the six
+houses there was a back yard, and each yard was separated from its
+neighbour on either side by a wall as nigh as high as that which
+enclosed them all in the rear. Thus Dick found himself shut out from
+the world, as it were, with little likelihood of his movements being
+detected from any of the houses except the one he intended to break
+into--and that was as still and lifeless as death itself.
+
+"Now, my lad," he said, "just to put life into you, for this desert of
+Sahara is enough to give any man the blue devils, I'll treat you to a
+drink. Is it agreed to? Passed unanimously."
+
+Then came the difficult task of unhooking the grapnel, for it would
+never do to leave it on the wall. He made several futile attempts to
+loosen and bring it down, and had he not discovered in a corner a
+forked pole which at some remote period had probably been used as a
+clothes' prop, there would have been nothing for it but to leave it
+there and run the risk of discovery. With the aid of the pole,
+however, he succeeded in unhooking it, so suddenly that it fell to the
+ground with a crash and nearly gave him a crack on the head.
+
+Gathering up the rope and slinging it over his arm, Dick searched for
+a means of effecting an entrance into the house. From the evidences of
+decay all around he judged that no use had been made of the back of
+the premises for a considerable time past; during his service with
+Samuel Boyd he had had no acquaintance of the rooms which looked out
+upon the yard, his duties confining him to the office in which the
+secretarial work was done. Above a door, which he tried in vain to
+open, was a small window which seemed less secure than the others; and
+when he reached up to it (standing on a rickety bench against the
+wall), this proved to be the case; but though the frame rattled when
+he shook it he saw no means of getting out of the difficulty except by
+breaking a pane of glass. Half measures would not serve now, and he
+adopted this bold expedient, pausing to listen, when the shattered
+glass fell upon the floor within, whether the crash had raised an
+alarm. There was no indication of it.
+
+Passing his hand through the aperture he managed to unfasten the
+window and to raise the sash. Much more difficult was it to raise his
+body to the level of the window; he had no safe foothold, the rickety
+bench upon which he stood threatened every moment to fall to pieces,
+and indeed in his violent efforts this actually happened, and he was
+left clinging to the window-sill by his fingers and nails; by a
+desperate effort he got his knees upon the sill, and tumbled or
+scrambled into a small dark room. He could not now proceed without a
+light, and he congratulated himself again on his forethought in
+bringing candles and matches, for Dick was not a smoker, and these
+articles might easily have been overlooked.
+
+Having obtained a light he took a survey of the room. The walls were
+bare, and there was no furniture in it. Casting his eyes upon the
+floor he was horrified to see it stained with fresh red blood upon
+which he was treading. He was so startled that he involuntarily
+pressed his left hand upon his heart, and raised his right hand, in
+which he held the lighted candle, in anticipation of a sudden attack.
+Then he discovered that he had cut that hand, and that the blood on
+the floor was his own. In his excitement he had not felt the pain of
+the wound. Wrapping his handkerchief round it, and drawing a deep
+breath of relief, he opened a door at the end of the room, and emerged
+into a passage, with a staircase leading to the rooms above.
+Ascending, he passed through another door which shut off this
+staircase from the better parts of the house, and found himself on a
+landing with which he was familiar, for on this floor was situated the
+office in which he used to work, another staircase at the end of the
+landing leading down to the front entrance. He knew now where he was,
+and in which direction to proceed.
+
+All his movements had been made with extreme caution, and almost at
+every step he took he paused and prepared for a surprise. But he was
+not interrupted in any way, and there was nothing to indicate that he
+was not master of the situation. It troubled him to observe that his
+footsteps left traces of blood behind them; these dark stains conveyed
+a suggestion that he had been engaged in a guilty deed. "Do I look
+like a murderer?" he thought. "I feel like one."
+
+Before he entered the office he descended to the ground floor passage
+to ascertain if the street door was fast, and he was surprised to see
+the key lying on the mat. It was a sign of some significance, for had
+Samuel Boyd left his house for any length of time he would most
+certainly have locked the door from the outside and taken the key with
+him. But, assuming that this was not the case, why was not the key in
+the lock, and assuming, further, that Samuel Boyd had retired to rest,
+why was not the door bolted and chained?
+
+Confused by the thought, Dick turned the key in the lock, opened the
+door an inch or two, and looked out upon Catchpole Square. All was
+silent and still. Dark clouds were scudding across the sky, with a
+heavy-hearted presage in them; such was the impression the gloom of
+night produced upon Dick. He reclosed and locked the door, and
+returned to the passage above.
+
+When he turned the handle of the office door and entered the room in
+which he used to work he could hear the beating of his heart. In the
+dim light he could almost fancy that his skeleton was sitting on the
+old stool at the desk; but no being, human or spectral, with the
+exception of himself was there. Against the walls and in the corners
+lay the strange medley of articles which gave so singular a character
+to the apartment. There were no signs of confusion or disturbance;
+everything was in order. The drawers in desk and tables were closed,
+the safe in its old position, and to all appearance untampered with;
+beneath a paperweight of Japanese metal, representing a hideous mask,
+lay some papers which Dick did not stop to examine. Some of the
+articles in the collection had not been there during his term of
+service. The wine and the grand pianoforte were new to him. But who
+was that sitting in a chair, dressed in a flowered gaberdine?
+
+"I beg your pardon," stammered Dick.
+
+The figure did not answer him, and approaching nearer with stealthy
+steps he beheld the wax figure of the Chinaman, in an attitude of
+collapse, as it had fallen into the chair on the night of the 1st of
+March, when it was shot through the heart.
+
+"In heaven's name how came _you_ here?" muttered Dick. "Speak up like
+a man, in pigeon-English if you like."
+
+He could scarcely have been more amazed had the figure lifted its head
+and addressed him. A sense of tragedy weighed heavily upon his
+spirits, and the air seemed charged with significance and dreadful
+import. The occurrences of the last twenty-four hours: the
+disappearance of Abel Death, his wife's agonised appeal at the police
+station, Florence's flight from home, the discovery of her
+handkerchief in Catchpole Square, even--unreasonable as was the
+inclusion--the visit of Dr. Vinsen to the Death family--all seemed to
+converge to one point in this room, with its deathlike stillness, and
+to the strong probability of their explanation being found there. It
+partook more of a fancy from a madman's brain than that of a sane
+person, and yet Dick, candle in hand, peered in all directions for a
+clue to the elucidation of these mysteries. That he saw none did not
+weaken the impression under which he laboured. The dusky figures of
+knight and lady in the hangings of tapestry, the quaint carvings of
+man and beast on the mantel and fireplace, the paintings of flying
+angels on the ceiling, mocked and gibed at him whichever way he
+turned, and tended to increase the fever of his blood.
+
+There were three communicating doors in the apartment--one leading to
+the passage, one to Mr. Boyd's bedroom, one to a room which had always
+been kept locked. Against the wall between that room and the office
+the grand piano was placed, and Dick recollected that in his time a
+large screen had been there, covering the space now occupied by the
+back of the piano. Very cautiously and slowly he opened the door of
+the bedroom. Wrought to a pitch of intense excitement it was not
+surprising that his hand shook--to such an extent, indeed, had he lost
+control of himself that the candle dropped to the ground and was
+extinguished. He was plunged in darkness.
+
+In the brief glance he had directed to the bed he fancied he had seen
+the outline of a sleeping form, and as he knelt to search for the
+candle he called aloud, "Mr. Boyd!" and trembled at the sound of his
+voice. "Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!" he called again in louder tones, and his
+heated fancy created a muffled echo of the name, "Mr. Boyd! Mr. Boyd!"
+Finding the candle he relighted it, and rising to his feet, slowly
+approached the bed.
+
+A dumb form was there, its back towards him. The bed was in the middle
+of the room, the head against the wall. Treading very gently he passed
+to the other side, and bending forward, with the candle in his
+upstretched hand, he saw a man's face--the face of Samuel Boyd, cold
+and dead!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXI.
+
+                        THE CHAMBER OF DEATH.
+
+
+He reeled back in horror, but even in that one moment of discovery the
+necessity of preserving self-control forced itself upon him, and he
+became calm. The first real step in the mystery was taken, and all his
+powers of sober reason were needed to consider what would follow, and
+in what way the dread discovery would affect the beings he held most
+dear. Fortifying himself with a sip of brandy, and putting into a
+candlestick the candle he had held in his hand, he turned down the
+sheets to ascertain how the hard master he had served--the man in
+whose breast had dwelt no spark of compassion for any living
+creature--had met his death. There was no blood on the bedclothes, no
+stab or bullet in the dead man's body. On his face was an expression
+of suffering, as of one who had died in pain, and his neck was
+discoloured, as though a hand had tightly pressed it. But this might
+have been his own act in the agony of the death struggle, and his
+presence in his bed went far to prove that his end had been a natural
+one. A closer examination, however, dispelled this theory. The marks
+on his throat could scarcely have been made by himself, for his arms
+lay by his side in a natural position. Undoubtedly there had been
+violence done. By whom?
+
+The first person whose image came to Dick's mind was Abel Death. The
+image immediately suggested a train of circumstance which, in the heat
+of the moment, proclaimed the absent man guilty. Abel Death had made
+his appeal to Samuel Boyd, and had made it in vain. In a paroxysm of
+fury he had fallen upon his master, and had strangled him. Then,
+searching for money and finding it, he had fled from the house and
+taken passage in some outgoing vessel for a foreign land. Presuming
+that the murder had been committed on the night of the 1st of March
+there had been ample time to make his escape, but not sufficient time
+to communicate with his wife. Or, perhaps the man, overwhelmed by
+terror, was afraid to write.
+
+But upon further reflection this train of circumstance fell apart, and
+Dick perceived how false it was. It was hardly probable that Samuel
+Boyd had received Abel Death while he was abed, and still less
+probable that in his sleeping attire he would open his street door to
+such a visitor. By no other means than through the door could Abel
+Death have obtained access to the house. No, it was not he who had
+committed the crime. But the man was gone, and the mystery of his
+disappearance was still unexplained.
+
+But if Abel Death could have obtained access to the house only by
+permission of Samuel Boyd, there was another man who had no need to
+ask for it. That man was Mr. Reginald Boyd. He possessed a key to the
+street door, and could obtain admittance at any hour. At any hour? No.
+Not after Samuel Boyd had chained and bolted the door from within
+before he went to bed. What was the presumption? That Reginald had
+quietly entered before the door was fastened, and had secreted himself
+until his father had retired to rest. Easy to imagine what followed:
+his appearance in the bedroom when his father was half asleep, his
+demands for money, the stern refusal and the taunting exchange of
+angry words, the hot blood roused, the clutching his father by the
+throat, the murder committed, the disposal of the limbs to make it
+appear that he had died a natural death, the unbolting and unchaining
+of the street door, and, finally, the frantic flight. But how to
+account for the key being upon the mat? As Dick mentally asked this
+question his eyes fell upon a key hanging by a cord at the head of the
+bed. Was it Samuel Boyd's own private key to the street door? So much
+depended upon this that Dick hastened downstairs to settle the point.
+Yes, it was Samuel Boyd's key. And the second key which Dick had
+picked up? Dropped by Reginald in his frenzy as he flew out of the
+house.
+
+Dick's heart sank within him. This plausible chain of circumstance
+fitted the theory that Reginald was the murderer. Horrible! Most
+horrible! And Florence loved this guilty man. He it was who was
+responsible for her flight from her peaceful, happy home; he it was
+who, for some sinister reason, had imposed secrecy upon her! It seemed
+to Dick as if he held the fate of Florence's lover in his hands. He
+returned the second key to its place at the head of the bed, and
+mechanically--but yet in pursuance of some immature thought--put the
+key he had found on the mat into his pocket. Then he quitted the room
+of death, and closing the door, sank into a chair, and rested his head
+on his hand.
+
+How should he act? What clear line of action did his duty point out to
+him? His duty! What if in pursuance of this moral obligation he
+wrecked Florence's life, and brought upon her despair so poignant as
+to drive her to her grave? No, a thousand times, no! Anything but
+that.
+
+Why should it be incumbent upon him to proclaim the murder? Let others
+do it. But even then, would that save Reginald? The finger of
+suspicion would be pointed at him, and a clever lawyer would wind
+around him a chain of circumstantial evidence so firm and strong that
+it would be impossible for him to break through it. What were the
+links in this chain?
+
+The quarrel between father and son some time since, which ended in
+Reginald being turned out of the house, with the stern injunction
+never to enter it again. Proof would surely be discovered to establish
+this, and it would be vain for Reginald to deny it.
+
+Reginald's first visit to the house in Catchpole Square on the evening
+of the 1st of March. Abel Death had disappeared, but Mrs. Death was
+alive to testify to the fact. In this connection the pitiful image of
+little Gracie presented itself to Dick's mind, and he heard her
+plaintive appeal, "You _will_ find father, won't you?" He had been
+anxious to do this, but he recognised now that Abel Death's appearance
+in court might be fatal to Reginald.
+
+The next link was Reginald's second visit to Catchpole Square an hour
+or so before midnight, admitting himself to the house on that
+occasion, as on the first, with his own private latchkey. Who was to
+prove this? Remote as the Square was from public observation there was
+little doubt that Reginald had entered unseen. No witness existed,
+except Reginald himself, who could state what took place on this
+second visit, but it was a strong link in the chain that he had "come
+down in the world," and was in need for money.
+
+The murder being made public, Constables Pond and Applebee would be
+questioned as to whether they had observed any suspicious circumstance
+in the neighbourhood on the night of the 1st. Applebee would recall
+the visit to Samuel Boyd of a lady in her carriage. Who was the lady,
+and what was her business with him? This would be traced. Doubtless
+the lady herself would come forward. The constables would further
+recall the appearance of a woman lurking in Catchpole Square on the
+night of the 5th, her evident alarm on being challenged, and her
+escape from the clutches of Constable Applebee.
+
+Then came the question of the identity of the woman, in the answering
+of which Florence's handkerchief would furnish a clue. But if
+Constable Pond confessed how he had found and concealed the
+handkerchief it would, in all probability, lead to his dismissal from
+the force. It was therefore to his interest to say nothing about it.
+Dick had imposed silence upon him and his wife, and the chances were
+that secrecy would be preserved.
+
+He carried this point farther. It appeared certain that the murder was
+committed on the night of the 1st of March. Now, Florence's visit to
+Catchpole Square--assuming that it was she--was paid on the night of
+the 5th, five days after. What connection, then, could there be
+between this visit and the murder? He argued it out. She was in
+communication with Reginald; since his last visit to Aunt Rob's house,
+nearly a fortnight ago, letters had passed between them, and there was
+little doubt that, without the knowledge of her parents, she had seen
+and conversed with him. Fearful of venturing himself into the Square,
+had he sent her to ascertain whether there was any appearance of the
+house having been entered? That would imply her knowledge of the
+crime. Every pulse and nerve in Dick's body throbbed in revolt against
+the cruel suggestion.
+
+"No!" he cried aloud, starting to his feet. "No--no--no!"
+
+But earnest as he might be on behalf of Florence he could not deny
+that the evidence, circumstantial as it was, formed a serious
+indictment against Reginald. In the midst of his agitation he noticed
+that in his starting from his chair he had swept off the table the
+Japanese paperweight and the documents which had lain beneath it.
+Stooping to pick them up and put them in their original order he saw
+the name of Reginald on one of the sheets, in Samuel Boyd's writing,
+with which he was familiar. Re-seating himself he immediately
+proceeded to read what was written thereon:
+
+
+"_Memoranda for my guidance. March 1st, 9.30 p.m_."
+
+
+"I jot down certain memoranda respecting my unworthy son, Reginald
+Boyd, to assist my memory in my application to the police to-morrow
+morning. Things slip my mind sometimes. This shall not. To the police
+I go early in the morning. I do not consider myself safe. My son and
+my clerk, Abel Death, whom I discharged from my service this evening,
+are in a conspiracy to rob me, and I must take measures against them.
+
+"It is two years since I turned my son out of my house in consequence
+of his misconduct and disobedience. I forbade him ever to darken my
+door again, or ever to address me.
+
+"In defiance of this command he stole into the house this afternoon
+during my absence, and though Abel Death endeavoured to keep it from
+me, I forced the information from him that this scamp of a son of mine
+intends to come again late to-night.
+
+"Impress strongly upon the police that these men are conspiring to rob
+me. Reginald has in his possession a key to the street door. It is my
+property. He stole it from me. If he does not get in through the front
+door he will find some other way. He is better acquainted with the ins
+and outs of this house than I am myself. He is an ungrateful,
+worthless scoundrel. They are a pair of scoundrels.
+
+"To-morrow I will draw out my will. Reginald knows that it is not made
+yet. If I were to die to-night all that I possess would fall to him as
+heir at law, and I am determined he shall have not have a shilling of
+my money. Not a shilling. He is reckoning, I dare say, upon coming
+into a fortune. He will find out his mistake.
+
+"_Shall_ I see him? I should like to tell him to his face that he will
+be a beggar all his life, and to tell him, too, that I intend to put
+the police upon him.
+
+"Notation, 2647. S.B."
+
+
+The reading of this document filled Dick with consternation. It
+supplied, not one, but several new links in the chain of
+circumstantial evidence. Were it to fall into the hands of the police
+Reginald's doom would be sealed. There would be only one chance for
+him--his being able to prove that he had not visited his father's
+house on the night of March 1st. His bare word would not be
+sufficient; he must produce witnesses, to show how and where he passed
+his time on that night. Failing this, the evidence, in the murdered
+man's own handwriting, would be fatal.
+
+It could not be that the murder would remain much longer undiscovered.
+Mrs. Death's application to the magistrate and the publicity given to
+the disappearance of her husband, clerk to Samuel Boyd of Catchpole
+Square, in conjunction with the silence and non-appearance of Samuel
+Boyd himself, would be sure to direct attention to the house, not only
+on the part of the mystery-mongers who have a passion for such
+matters, but on the part of the general public. The probability was
+that in a very short time, perhaps in a few hours, all London would be
+ringing with this new mystery. He saw, in fancy, the show-bills of the
+newspapers, and heard the cries of the newsboys as they ran through
+the streets with successive editions.
+
+Again he had to consider his course of action, and he was not long
+undecided. He would be silent. It was not Reginald he was championing,
+it was Florence. Until he saw and spoke with her he would do all that
+lay in his power to divert suspicion from the man she loved. Animated
+by this resolve, and with a dogged disregard of consequences, he
+folded the incriminating document and put it in his pocket. He made no
+attempt to justify himself; at all hazards he was determined to
+protect Florence, and, right or wrong, he would do what he had
+determined to do. The knowledge he had gained he would keep locked in
+his breast. Let others make the discovery of the murder. He would not
+move a step towards it.
+
+All this time he had not given a thought to his own safety, to the
+peril in which he would be placed if his presence in the house of
+death became known. It was easy enough to devise a train of argument
+which would cast such suspicion upon himself as to cause most people
+to believe that he was the guilty man. Having no wish to court this
+danger he determined to leave the house as quickly as possible, and to
+postpone further reflection till the morning.
+
+A last look into the death-chamber, a swift glance at the awful form
+lying there, a hurried examination of the papers to see if there were
+any other incriminating documents among them--which to his relief
+there were not--a pause before the wax figure of the Chinaman and a
+weird fancy that it also had met its death at the hand of a murderer,
+the careful gathering together of all the articles he had brought with
+him into the house, and he was ready to go.
+
+He had a thought of leaving the house by the front door, but there was
+greater risk in that than in going back the way he had come; so he
+scrambled out of the window at the back, finding it much more
+difficult to scramble out than to scramble in, and was once more in
+the yard. He listened for sounds of voices or footsteps in the
+thoroughfare on the other side of the dead wall, and, hearing none,
+flung his grapnel up. It caught at the first throw, and climbing the
+rope he cautiously peeped over the wall to see if any wayfarers were
+about. No person was in sight. Detaching the grapnel he hung by his
+hands and dropped to the ground, thinking how foolish he had been in
+the first instance not to have adopted this means of reaching the
+inner ground. Tying the rope round his waist, and buttoning his coat
+over that and the large bottle, half the water in which he had drank
+during his investigations, he proceeded in the direction of his
+lodgings, nibbling a biscuit as he walked along.
+
+The faint light of early morn was in the sky. A new day was dawning,
+to bring joy to some, despair to some, to raise this toiler up, to
+dash this toiler down. No warning of these issues in the peaceful grey
+light of morn. Majestic nature rolls its allotted course heedless of
+the fret of life. The yellow gas in the street lamps had a ghastly
+glare; at the end of a street a cat with green eyes gleaming like evil
+jewels stood in the middle of the road, and scampered off at his
+approach. A wretched man who seemed to start out of the ground cried,
+"Hi!" and flung a stone after it, and then, with folded arms and head
+sunk low on his breast, slinked off with a scowl, as though he had
+struck at the world for its treatment of him; two or three blear-eyed
+human night-birds, shivering in the grey light which, in its promise
+of a fair day, brought no solace to them, slouched close to the walls
+and houses, and cast lowering glances upon Dick as he passed; a
+forlorn woman, who had better have been in her grave, said, "Good
+morning, my dear," in a voice so false and hollow in its horrible
+gaiety that he shuddered as he heard it, and hurried on. But he turned
+and threw the degraded creature a sixpence. In his state of mind all
+forms of misery appealed strongly to him.
+
+He reached Paradise Row in safety, and got into the house without
+disturbing his landlady. Locking the door of his room, he threw off
+his clothes and went to bed, deeming it wiser to seek three or four
+hours' rest in a natural way than to sleep with his clothes on. He was
+wearied and exhausted, but so excited that sleep did not come readily
+to him. Drowsily courting it he found himself dwelling upon the last
+words in the document he had stolen--there was no mincing the matter;
+he _had_ stolen it: "Notation 2647." What could be the meaning of
+those words? Notation 2647--notation 2647. He repeated it dozens of
+times, and dreamt that the wax figure of the Chinaman was pursuing him
+over mountain and field, through fire and water, shouting after him,
+"Notation 2647!" Youth and a healthy physique, however, triumphed over
+these disordered fancies, and after awhile he sank into a dreamless
+sleep, and arose, refreshed and full of vigour, at half past eight. He
+heard the snoring of Constable Pond, and the soft footsteps of Mrs.
+Pond outside his door. He stepped into the passage, and it was like
+the breath of spring to his senses to meet her smiling face.
+
+"Good morning, sir," she said. "I hope you slept well."
+
+"Capitally," he replied. "The bed is very comfortable. Did I disturb
+you at all last night?" He waited in anxiety for her answer.
+
+"Oh, no, sir. I'm asleep the minute I put my head on the pillow. Pond
+says I should be a blessing to burglars. Can I get you anything for
+breakfast?"
+
+"Nothing, thank you," he said. "I take my meals out."
+
+The next moment he was on his way to Aunt Rob. She was expecting his
+arrival, and ran to open the door for him.
+
+"I've been waiting for you, Dick. Have you had breakfast?"
+
+"Wouldn't stop for it, Aunt Rob," he answered, "I thought you would
+give me a bite."
+
+"It's ready laid for you, my dear. I had a letter from Florence this
+morning, and one has come for you."
+
+"From Florence?" he cried.
+
+"No, it's not her writing." She gave him both letters, and said that
+Uncle Rob had gone out early in the morning to seek for her. "We
+haven't had a wink of sleep all night," she said.
+
+He read Florence's letter first. It was to the same effect as her
+letters of yesterday. She was quite well and safe, and begged them not
+to be anxious about her. Her dear love to darling mother and father,
+and to Dick. She would write twice every day, and hoped with all her
+heart that everything would soon be all right.
+
+"It is a happiness to know that she is safe and well," said Dick. "We
+must have patience, Aunt Rob."
+
+"But what does she mean by her 'duty,' Dick?"
+
+"We shall hear that from her own lips by-and-by," he replied.
+
+"And isn't it strange," said the anxious mother, "that she doesn't
+say a word of Mr. Reginald?"
+
+"Yes, it _is_ strange." But in his heart he did not think so. He
+believed he knew why the name was not mentioned.
+
+"What is your letter about, Dick?"
+
+He opened it, read it hurriedly, and did not betray the agitation it
+caused him. "A private letter, aunt, from an old friend. Has Uncle Rob
+got another day's leave of absence from the office?"
+
+"No; he must go back to his duty to-night. He wanted to see you
+badly, but he couldn't stop at home, he's that restless. I wish you'd
+have a talk with him."
+
+"I'll manage it. If I don't catch him here, I'll drop in at the
+station."
+
+He was itching to read his letter more carefully, but he would not
+arouse her suspicions by running away too suddenly, so he remained
+with her a few minutes longer, and then, saying he would see her again
+in the course of the day, took his leave.
+
+"Are you going anywhere particular, Dick?" she asked, accompanying him
+to the door.
+
+"I am going to look for Florence," he replied, kissing her. "It will
+be hard if we don't soon get some good news. Keep up your heart, dear
+aunt."
+
+He did not take the letter from his pocket till he was in a quiet
+street.
+
+
+"My Dear Dick" (it ran), "The reason that I have had the address on
+the envelope written in a strange hand is that I do not want mother to
+know I am writing to you. You must not tell her. I feel sure you will
+get my letter this morning, because you will have heard of my going
+away, and will go to mother's to get some news of me. I need your
+help, dear Dick. I am at 16, Park Street, Islington, first floor. Come
+at 2 o'clock; I shall be looking out for you; and let it be a secret
+between us. I know how true and faithful you are, and I have no fear
+that you will betray me. With constant love, my dear Dick,
+
+                        "Your affectionate Cousin,
+
+                                        "Florence."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXII.
+
+           DICK RELIEVES GRACIE'S FEELING BY ONE EXPRESSIVE
+                                WORD.
+
+
+"At last!" said Dick. "At last a ray of light! What's the time?" He
+looked at a clock in a baker's shop. "Five minutes past ten. Ought I
+to go to her at once? No, I think not. Had she wanted me earlier she
+would have said, 'Come to me the moment you get this letter.' Four
+long hours to wait. What am I to do with myself till two o'clock?"
+
+With the idea of making time fly faster he began to count his steps--
+ten, twenty, thirty, one hundred, two hundred, three hundred. He made
+a calculation. A step a second, three hundred steps three hundred
+seconds, five minutes, and five minutes more employed in thought and
+calculation. Ten minutes gone, ten minutes nearer to Florence. He came
+to another shop with a clock in it; it marked eight minutes past ten.
+He had done all this in three minutes. He had walked too quickly, and
+was fast working himself up to fever heat. "Keep cool, my lad," he
+muttered; "you'll mar instead of mend if you don't keep cool."
+
+But the events of the last few hours, with their tragic issues,
+pressed so heavily upon him that he found it no easy matter to keep
+cool. Much easier was it to conjure up the feelings of a murderer,
+who, oppressed with the weight of his undiscovered crime, fancies he
+discerns in every face the knowledge of his guilt--turning his head
+over his shoulder every minute to see if he was being dogged--starting
+at familiar sounds, especially at the sound of bells and clocks
+striking the hour, every peal proclaiming to all the world that a
+Murderer was passing that way--tortured by the devilish temptation to
+leap into the middle of the road, and flinging up his arms to scream
+aloud, "Stop, you grinning fools! _I did it!_" Then running to a
+bridge, with a mob at his heels, and flinging himself into the river.
+
+For some minutes Dick was under a spell of this nature. He looked
+nervously at the head-lines on the newspaper bills, and listened for
+the shouting of the newsboys, "Murder! Murder! Frightful Murder in
+Catchpole Square!" But no such words reached his ears. Passing the
+shop in which he had purchased the rope and grapnel, he was almost
+prepared to see the dirty-faced old man, in his list slippers and
+greasy skull cap, run out and cry, "Stop that man! Ask him what he did
+with the rope he bought of me last night. Stop him--stop him!"
+
+"I am losing my senses," said Dick, "indulging in these fancies. I
+shall be deluding myself presently into the belief that it was I who
+murdered Samuel Boyd. I'll go and see little Gracie. I may get some
+news of Abel Death."
+
+Gracie was in bed, and Mrs. Death was in the adjoining room, preparing
+a linseed poultice for her. She looked into Dick's face, and dropped
+her eyes.
+
+"You've heard nothing, sir?"
+
+"Nothing," he replied. "I have come to see Gracie. Is she any better?"
+
+"She's no worse, sir," said Mrs. Death, with a sigh, "but I can hardly
+keep her in bed, and the trouble I have to put a poultice on her is
+beyond description; I have almost to go on my bended knees. She's the
+dearest child, sir; she never thinks of herself."
+
+Upon Dick's entrance Gracie sat up in bed and put out her hand; it was
+hot and clammy, and Dick patted it kindly, and held it in his. The
+faces of the other children, who were all sitting on the floor,
+playing shop with stones and broken pieces of crockery, became
+illumined at sight of Dick.
+
+"It's good of you to come," said Gracie. "I thought you would. You
+mustn't mind my coughing a bit. I'm ever so much better, but mother
+_will_ worry about me. I want to whisper to you. Do you think father's
+dead?"
+
+"No, Gracie," he said, to comfort her. "I don't think that."
+
+"Then what's keeping him away? Is he afraid of somebody? Father never
+did anything wrong. We'll look for him together when I'm well. Shall
+we?"
+
+"Yes, Gracie; and so that you may get well soon and find him, you
+mustn't sit up in bed." He put her head gently on the hard pillow, and
+arranged the scanty coverings over her. She made no resistance, but
+kept her eyes upon him, gravely and steadily.
+
+"I've been dreaming of you all night long," she said.
+
+"Now, what do _you_ want?" said Dick to Connie, who was standing at
+his knee.
+
+"Here's two ounces of tea," said Connie, giving him a stone, "and some
+scrag of mutton" (giving him another), "and a silk dress" (giving him
+another), "and a pound of sugar, and a penn'orth of brandy balls, and
+a pair of boots, and four pounds of potatoes, and a pint of beer"--all
+represented by stones, which Dick accepted with an air of great
+enjoyment. "If you haven't got any money we'll trust you." Having
+effected which sale upon these unbusinesslike conditions, the child
+trotted back to her brothers and sisters, who put their heads together
+and whispered.
+
+Mrs. Death entered with the poultice, and was about to put it on, when
+a soft tapping was heard on the passage door. Before any one could
+answer it the handle was turned and Dr. Vinsen presented himself.
+
+Gracie lay back in bed, and clutched Dick's hand tight.
+
+As Dr. Vinsen glanced around the room, Dick thought his eyes were
+smaller and sleepier than on the first occasion they had met; his
+heavy white lids hung low, and partially veiled them; but this aspect
+of languor was more than counterbalanced by the fringe of yellow
+hair round his bald head, which gave him a luminous, not to say a
+saint-like appearance.
+
+"Ah, Mr. Dick Remington," he said, in the pleasantest of voices, "good
+morning, _good_ morning. Are you also here on a mission of kindness to
+our little patient--our lit-tle pa-tient? Permit me." He disengaged
+the clammy hand which clasped Dick's, and timed Gracie's pulse by his
+large gold watch, at which the children stared in awe. "Rather
+feverish, but an improvement. What do you say? It's nothing to
+worry about? Then we'll not worry about it. Why should we? Life
+brings a peck of worries in its train--why should we make the peck
+overflow--o-ver-flow?" With his head on one side, like a large
+yellow-fringed bird, he smilingly invited an opinion from Dick.
+
+"Why, indeed?" said Dick.
+
+"True--true. Why?" As though not he, but Dick, had made the inquiry.
+"We are getting along nicely, Mrs. Death, I am happy to say. In a
+short time we shall have our little patient running about again,
+playing with her companions, as well as ever. The troubles of
+children, eh, Mr. Remington?"
+
+"Yes," said Dick, vaguely.
+
+"A private word in your ear. Have we heard from our missing friend?"
+
+"I believe not," replied Dick.
+
+"Sad--sad--sad! But there is time--there is always time; and
+hope--there is always hope. She bears up."
+
+"What else can she do? Knocking your head against a stone wall is not
+an agreeable diversion."
+
+"_Your_ head, my young friend, _your_ head," said Dr. Vinsen,
+jocosely. Then turning to Mrs. Death, "What is this? A linseed
+poultice? Very proper. Let it be very hot. Our little patient makes a
+face. If she never has a worse trouble than a linseed poultice she is
+to be envied. Here is a bottle of medicine--a tablespoonful every four
+hours. I will call again to-morrow. You will not shut your door
+against me, eh?"
+
+"No, indeed, sir. We don't shut the door against our best friends."
+
+"So kind of you to say so." He paused to contemplate the group of
+children on the floor. "This"--with a comprehensive wave of his hand,
+so as to take in the whole of the room--"is a scene for an artist, and
+on the walls of the Academy would attract attention, even from the
+aristocracy."
+
+"That wouldn't help them much," observed Dick.
+
+"I don't know--I really don't know. It enlarges the scope, widens the
+sympathies--wi-dens the sym-pa-thies. Be happy, children, be happy."
+He went through the ceremony of shaking hands with Dick and Mrs.
+Death, and with an amiable smile, in which his halo seemed to take
+part, left the room.
+
+"Dick," whispered Gracie. He bent towards her. "May I call you Dick?"
+
+"Yes, Gracie."
+
+"Wait a bit till my cough's over." She almost choked herself in her
+effort to finish the sentence before the cough commenced. It lasted a
+long time, but Dick, supporting her in his arms, was glad to hear that
+it was looser. Then she whispered to him again, "Don't let 'em hear
+us, Dick. Say Damn!"
+
+"Damn!" said Dick, without the least hesitation.
+
+She sank back and smiled. It was the first time Dick had seen her
+smile, and it brought a wonderful light into her sallow face. Whatever
+may have been the reason for the singular request, she was evidently
+much relieved.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIII.
+
+                        FLORENCE AND REGINALD.
+
+
+The hands of all the clocks in Islington that kept correct time marked
+the hour of two as Dick stood before the door of 16, Park Street. His
+hand was on the knocker, when the door was opened, and Florence drew
+him into the house.
+
+"Come upstairs, Dick," she said, panting as if she had been running.
+"I saw you from the window, and ran down. Oh, Dick, I am so glad to
+see you--so glad, so glad!"
+
+On the landing of the first floor she stopped and kissed him. "Come
+in, Dick, come in."
+
+They entered a comfortably furnished room, and by the aid of the
+better light he saw that she was struggling to keep back her tears.
+
+"Are you well, Florence?" he asked anxiously.
+
+"In health? Oh, yes," she answered. "But I am in trouble. That is why
+I sent for you."
+
+"You did right. I am here to help you. You may rely upon me,
+Florence."
+
+"I do, dear. Tell me first. How is my dear mother--and my dear
+father--how are they, Dick?"
+
+"You know how they must be, Florence, loving you as they do. They are
+in the most terrible trouble about you. Uncle Rob has been hunting all
+over London for you. I don't wish to distress you, but they have not
+had a moment's rest. It is right that I should tell you this."
+
+"You are quite right, dear. Poor mother and father! It cuts me to
+the heart, but I could not act in any other way. You shall judge,
+Dick--you shall judge--and if you condemn me----"
+
+"Don't give way, Florence."
+
+"I won't. I will be brave. I have been brave to do what I have done.
+Such a cruel thing, such a cruel, cruel thing!--but it was my
+duty--my duty! Oh, Dick, if you knew what love was, you would know of
+what it was capable. I may speak to you, dear, as a sister to a
+brother, may I not?"
+
+"Yes, Florence, as a sister to a brother," he said, quietly.
+
+"I can understand now so many things to which I was blind a year
+ago--what love will lead a woman to do, how it can harden the
+heart----"
+
+"Harden the heart!" he cried.
+
+"Was my heart not hardened," she said, piteously, "when I stole away
+like a thief from the parents who loved and cherished me, knowing, as
+I knew, that I was bringing misery upon them? Was my heart not
+hardened when, at the call of love, I trod love under my feet? My
+prayer was that my separation would not be long, and that, when I was
+free to speak, they would forgive me and take me to their hearts
+again. But what can repay them for the suffering I have inflicted upon
+them--how shall I atone for the wound my own hand has dealt?"
+
+"They will not think of it, Florence, if all is well with you, if,
+when you are free to speak, they approve of what you have done."
+
+"Do you doubt it, Dick?" she asked, her hand at her heart.
+
+"No--on my soul, no!" he cried. "I could never doubt it--I----" He
+came to a sudden stop as his eyes fell upon the hand that lay at her
+breast. She saw the earnest gaze, but did not remove her hand. "That
+ring, Florence!"
+
+"My wedding ring, Dick," she said, and pressed her lips upon it.
+
+"You are married!"
+
+"I am married, dear."
+
+"To Mr. Reginald?"
+
+"Yes; but that is not the name I bear."
+
+He covered his face with his hands. He had long known that she was
+lost to him, but only at this moment did he fully realise it. And not
+alone that. He was overwhelmed by the thought of the damning evidence
+in his pocket, a virtual accusation of murder made by the murdered man
+himself against his son, against Florence's husband! An ashen face
+confronted her as he took his hands from his eyes.
+
+"Dick!" she cried.
+
+"It is nothing, dear, nothing." His eyes wandered around the room.
+"You are not living here alone?"
+
+"No, Dick. My husband is in that room. Come and see him. Tread softly,
+softly!"
+
+She opened the door, and he followed her into the room, and there, in
+bed, lay the son of Samuel Boyd, the man lying dead in his house in
+Catchpole Square.
+
+"The doctor has given him a sleeping draught," said Florence, in a low
+tone. "He has been very ill, and no one to nurse him but I." With
+tender care she smoothed the pillow, and drew the counterpane over his
+shoulders, then stooped and kissed him. When she raised her face it
+was illumined. Love shone there, and a divine pity. There are memories
+which dwell in the mind till the hour of death, and this revelation of
+devoted love would dwell in Dick's mind till his life was ended.
+
+"Is he changed much?" she asked.
+
+"He is worn and thin," Dick replied. "Has he been ill long?"
+
+"A good many days, but thank God! the doctor says he will get well. If
+he sleeps till eight or nine o'clock it will help his recovery
+greatly."
+
+They re-entered the sitting room. Dick took a chair with its back to
+the light, and each looked at the other in silence awhile. Florence
+was the first to speak.
+
+"Where shall I commence, Dick?"
+
+"At the beginning," he replied. "Hide nothing from me if you are sure
+you can trust me."
+
+"I _am_ sure. There is no shame in an honest love, dear."
+
+"None, Florence.
+
+"It is eighteen months ago that Reginald and I first met. Mother and I
+were spending an evening with a friend when he came in and was
+introduced to us as Mr. Reginald, A few days afterwards we met him in
+the street, and he walked a little way with us, and asked if he might
+call and see us; and soon he became a regular visitor. How does love
+come, Dick? It is a mystery, but I know I used to think a great deal
+of him when he was away, and once or twice when we expected him and he
+did not come I felt unhappy. When I heard his voice I was happy again,
+and then I knew I loved him. One day he spoke to me, and my heart was
+filled with happiness when he told me he loved me. He said he feared
+he was wrong in speaking to me of love, for there was a secret in his
+life which he did not wish to disclose for a time; and he asked, if we
+entered into an engagement, that I should say nothing of it to my
+parents without his consent. I loved him, Dick, and trusted him, and I
+consented to everything he proposed. So I had a lover, and no one at
+home knew anything of it. Do not misjudge Reginald; he is the soul of
+honour, and I would as soon doubt the goodness of God as I would doubt
+the good faith and honour of the man I love. Do I hear him moving?"
+
+She rose, and stepped softly to the bedroom. Returning, she said,
+
+"No, he is sleeping peacefully. Oh, Dick, dear, you would pity him if
+you knew how he has suffered, and how little he deserves it. It is two
+months to-day that he spoke very seriously to me, in consequence of
+something you said. You will remember it, Dick. You were in a
+situation as clerk, and one night you told us that you were acting as
+clerk to Mr. Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, and that you intended to
+give up your situation because of the bad character he bore. He was a
+money-lender, you said, and had brought ruin on a number of poor
+people. Mother didn't like the idea of your throwing up your
+situation, but when you asked her if she would advise you to stop with
+such a man she said, no, she wouldn't, and that Mr. Samuel Boyd was a
+rascal. I didn't think anything of it at the time except that I was
+sorry for you. Reginald recalled that conversation, and warned me to
+prepare for a disclosure that might cause me to shrink from him. He
+had kept his name concealed, he said, because he was ashamed of his
+father, who was no other than the Mr. Samuel Boyd of whom such hard
+words were spoken at home. He told me of his life; how during his
+boyhood he was kept at school, and then sent abroad to learn
+languages; how he knew nothing of his father's doings, who described
+himself as a financier; how, his education being completed, his father
+summoned him home, and how, while he lived in Catchpole Square, he was
+shocked at the discovery of the kind of business his father was
+engaged in. It was so revolting to Reginald that he spoke his mind
+freely; they had quarrels, and the end of it was that he left his
+father's house, determined to get his own living in a more honest way.
+Wasn't it noble of him, Dick?"
+
+"It was what an honourable man would do."
+
+"When Reginald had told me all this, he said he was sure that if it
+came to the knowledge of mother and father that he was Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's son they would forbid him the house; and he begged me to give
+him a proof of my love by consenting to a marriage at a registrar's
+office, and to keep it a secret till he was in a position to furnish a
+home for me. I loved him so that I consented, and I promised, too, to
+keep it secret till he gave me permission to speak to mother and
+father. So we went one morning to a registrar's office, and were
+married. I wasn't absent from home more than two hours, and no one
+suspected the step we had taken. I can't say I was happy; keeping a
+secret of that kind from parents so kind and dear made me appear in my
+own eyes very ungrateful, but Reginald was so hopeful that I bore up,
+and prayed for the day to arrive when we could ask forgiveness. Do you
+condemn me, Dick? Do you condemn Reginald? Put yourself in his place,
+and say whether, if you loved a girl as he loves me, you could bear
+the idea of losing her?"
+
+"I would lose my heart's blood first," said Dick. "But it was hard for
+Uncle and Aunt Rob."
+
+"Yes, it was hard, and it often made me very wretched, but I couldn't
+break my promise to Reginald; that would have been a bad commencement
+for a young wife. The worst of it was that he wasn't getting along
+very well. 'I shall be getting desperate presently,' he said, 'unless
+things take a turn for the better. Our little home seems farther off
+than ever.' I cheered him up, and said there was plenty of time before
+us, and that I was sure there was some good luck in store for him. So
+things went on till a fortnight ago, when he said he was afraid he had
+done wrong in persuading me to a secret marriage. 'But I've an idea,'
+he said, 'and whatever comes of it I'll carry it out. Don't ask me
+what it is; it's something I must keep to myself.' Dick," said
+Florence, breaking off, "that night at home when you and mother were
+speaking against Mr. Samuel Boyd, did you do so purposely because
+Reginald was with us?"
+
+"Yes, I spoke purposely," he answered.
+
+"Reginald said you did, and that you looked as if you had a suspicion
+of him. But you didn't know he was Mr. Boyd's son?"
+
+"I did know it," said Dick.
+
+"Why did you keep it to yourself?" she asked, with a troubled look.
+
+"It was for your sake, Florence," he answered quietly. "It wasn't for
+me to pry into your secrets."
+
+"Thank you, dear," said Florence, putting her hand into his with a
+tender smile, "it was like you."
+
+"Did Reginald carry out his idea, Florence?"
+
+"I can't tell you; he said nothing more about it to me. Last Saturday
+I received a letter from him saying he wasn't very well, and couldn't
+come to mother's on Sunday, and asking me not to call and see him till
+I heard from him again. What day of the month is this, Dick?"
+
+"The 7th. Last Saturday was the 2nd," said Dick, and thought, "The day
+after he went to his father's house late at night, the day after Abel
+Death went there in the night in the hope that Samuel Boyd would take
+him back again, _the day after the murder!_"
+
+"Yes, Dick, the 7th. I didn't go to Reginald either on that day or on
+Sunday. You can imagine how miserable I was. On Monday morning I
+received another short letter, in which he asked me again not to come
+and see him. The next letter came on Tuesday night when mother and I
+were sitting together."
+
+"That was the night of the great fog. Aunt Rob told me you went out in
+the afternoon in the thick of it. What did you go out for?"
+
+"I came here to inquire after Reginald. The landlady said he wasn't
+well, and that she had just posted a letter to me from him. 'May I go
+up and see him?' I asked, and she answered, calling me 'miss,' that he
+had given orders that no one was to be allowed up, and that when I had
+read the letter I might know what to do. I was far from happy, Dick,
+as I walked home through the fog, and a great deal unhappier when the
+night postman brought the letter, for there was something in it--I
+hardly know what--that made me feel I ought to go to him. I couldn't
+ask advice of mother because of my promise to Reginald, which I
+wouldn't break; and even if anyone had advised me against what I
+believed was right I shouldn't have listened to it. I went to my
+bedroom early, and so did mother, and I got out of the house at ten
+o'clock and came straight here. In the streets I put on my wedding
+ring, which I had not worn at home, of course, only putting it on and
+looking at it when I was alone in my room, and I took care that the
+landlady should see it when I told her I was a relation of Reginald's
+and had come to nurse him. It was time I did, for he was wandering in
+his mind, and hadn't called in a doctor because he couldn't afford to
+pay for one. Thank God I had a little money in my purse, and I've got
+thirty pounds in the Post Office Savings Bank which I've given notice
+to take out. Reginald didn't know me, and I was in the most dreadful
+trouble about him. All his wandering thoughts were about me and his
+father, and I thought what a shocking thing it would be if he were to
+die without seeing him. Oh, Dick, my heart was breaking, but I wanted
+to do what was right, and I thought it likely, if Mr. Boyd saw
+Reginald in the state he was, that his heart would soften towards the
+poor boy. I tried to get at his wishes. Bending over him I said, 'Do
+you want to see your father?' I said it three or four times, and then
+he said, 'Yes, yes, my father, Catchpole Square. The end house in
+Catchpole Square. My father--my father!' I called the landlady in, and
+asked her if she would stop up with Reginald while I went to fetch
+some one he wanted to see. She consented, and I went out. It was very
+late when I got to the house in Catchpole Square, and I knocked and
+knocked without anyone answering me. 'He can't be there,' I thought,
+and I was creeping out of the Square when two men came into it. One of
+them had a bull's eye lamp in his hand, and I saw they were policemen.
+My anxiety then was to get away from them, but they saw me and called
+out to me to stop, and laid hands on me. How I escaped I don't know,
+but I tore myself away and ran for my life, and in a minute or two I
+was alone and free. Then I managed to find my way back here, and sent
+the good landlady to bed, telling her that the person I had gone to
+fetch was out of town. Yesterday morning early I sent for a doctor,
+and he said that Reginald would have died if he hadn't been called in,
+but that there were hopes for him. Oh, how I thanked God for the good
+news! and how grateful I was when Reginald last night opened his eyes
+and recognised me! He didn't blame me, poor boy, but spoke so sweetly
+of everybody! I told him how I had run away from home, and I begged
+him to allow me to end this mystery and to make things right with
+father and mother. He thought a little, and said, 'Send for your
+cousin Dick, and do what he advises.' I cried for joy, and I sat down
+at once and wrote to you. Now you know all, dear. Will you go and tell
+them everything, and ask them to forgive poor Reginald and me?"
+
+"I will, Florence," said Dick, "the moment I go from here. It will be
+a happiness to me to relieve their suspense. But I want to ask you a
+question or two first."
+
+"Yes, Dick."
+
+"How long has Reginald been ill?"
+
+"Since Saturday."
+
+"Has he been in bed all the time?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"May I go into his room?"
+
+"What for? If he's asleep"--she opened the door and peeped in--"yes,
+he's asleep. You won't disturb him, Dick?"
+
+"No, I will not speak to him. I've got my reasons, Florence."
+
+"Very well, dear," she said, her eyes following him as he stepped
+softly to the bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
+
+His purpose was to examine Reginald's boots, and he saw them the
+moment he entered the room. Reginald having been in bed since Saturday
+they could not have been worn since his visit to Catchpole Square on
+Friday night. Dick took them up, and discerned on the soles traces of
+the waxed paper which Samuel Boyd had set as a trap. With his penknife
+he carefully scraped off these tell-tale evidences of the visit, and
+returned to Florence.
+
+"Do you know," he asked, "when Reginald saw his father last?"
+
+"No," she answered, "it must have been a long time ago."
+
+He did not disabuse her. "He is sleeping quite calmly," he said. "Did
+the doctor say when he would be able to get up?"
+
+"In two or three days, he told me, if the opiate he gave him had the
+desired effect. It _is_ having it, Dick."
+
+"No doubt of that. By the way, Florence, in your haste to escape from
+the policemen in Catchpole Square did you lose or drop anything?"
+
+"How clever you are to think of it, Dick! I lost a handkerchief."
+
+"With your name on it?"
+
+"Yes. All my handkerchiefs are marked. I think I had it in my hand
+when I was in the Square, but I can't be sure. It is of no
+consequence. There are plenty of girls named Florence. How did you cut
+your hand?"
+
+"With some broken glass. _That's_ of no consequence. It is only a
+scratch." The exertion and haste he had made in scraping the wax off
+Reginald's boots had started the blood.
+
+"Let me bind it up. Oh, Dick, you are our good angel! Dear Dick!
+Reginald likes you so much! But he had an idea that you didn't care
+for him."
+
+"I care for him very much, Florence."
+
+"And do you know," she said, almost gaily, so happy was she in the
+prospect of Reginald's speedy recovery, and of removing the cloud of
+misery she had brought upon her parents, "he had another idea--but I
+won't mention that."
+
+"Yes, do, dear. Remember, you are to hide nothing from me."
+
+"Well, he had an idea that you were fond of me."
+
+"He is right. I am very fond of you, Florence."
+
+"I know that, dear. But in another way, he meant. You understand."
+
+"Yes, dear cousin, I understand."
+
+"I told him that we had been brought up together, and that he wasn't
+to be jealous of my dear cousin Dick. Foolish of him, wasn't it?"
+
+"Very foolish. How could such an idea have got into his head?"
+
+"Well--perhaps--it--was--natural," she said, with an arch pause
+between each word. Ah, if she could have read his heart at that
+moment! But he did not betray himself. "There! I am sure your hand
+must feel more comfortable. I hope your feelings won't change towards
+me now that I'm a married woman."
+
+"My feelings will never change, Florence, dear."
+
+"A married woman! How strange and beautiful it sounds! To think of the
+time when we were playing together as little children! Such changes,
+Dick, such changes! It is almost as if we were not ourselves. My dear
+cousin! Do you think dear mother and father will come to me?"
+
+"I will answer for them. Now, I must go. Every moment saved is a
+moment of happiness gained to them."
+
+"Go, Dick, go quickly."
+
+They kissed, and he was gone. When he was in the street he looked up
+at the window, and saw her standing there, looking out after him. She
+threw the window open, and kissed her hand to him. He returned the
+fond sign and hurried on.
+
+"Steady, Dick, steady," he said.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIV.
+
+                DR. VINSEN TAKES AN INTEREST IN DICK.
+
+
+The admonition was needed, for his brain was in a whirl. The
+disclosure of Reginald's movements made by Florence, his statement to
+her that he had an idea for improving his circumstances which he
+intended to carry out "whatever came of it," his silence regarding his
+visits to the house in Catchpole Square, his fevered ravings about his
+father--were, as Dick said with a groan, "so many nails in his
+coffin."
+
+"No doubt can exist," he argued, "that Samuel Boyd was murdered either
+by his son Reginald or by Abel Death. If what I know were made public
+Reginald would be immediately arrested and charged. Poor Florence! She
+little knows what is in store for her, and what can't be hidden much
+longer. But where, where is Abel Death? Is it possible that he also
+has been murdered? That would make things worse for Reginald. I'll
+search the house from top to bottom to-night in the hope of not
+finding his body, for then the chance of his being the murderer would
+still be open. If Florence's husband is put in the dock we'll make a
+fight for his life."
+
+Having thus relieved his mind he struck a bee-line for Aunt Rob's
+house, and his knock at the door was instantly answered by her and
+Inspector Robson.
+
+"I bring good news," said Dick, in a cheery tone.
+
+"You have found her!" cried Aunt Rob, quivering with excitement.
+
+"Yes, I have found her."
+
+"Thank God--oh, thank God!"
+
+Inspector Robson, pale as death, grasped Dick's hand, and in a husky
+voice asked, "Is she well?"
+
+"Quite well--and waiting to see you."
+
+Aunt Rob threw on her bonnet and mantle. "Here's your hat, father,"
+she said, almost breathless, "we must go to her at once. Come, Dick,
+come."
+
+"Stop a minute," he said, laying his hand on her arm, "I have
+something to tell you first."
+
+"I don't want to hear anything," she cried, sternly. "I want my
+child!"
+
+"Let Dick speak," said Inspector Robson.
+
+Then Dick related all that Florence had told him, and their joy at
+recovering their daughter was so great that they had no word of
+reproach for her. The dear child was found, and they would be once
+more re-united. What more could they desire?
+
+"They must come here this very day, father," said Aunt Rob. "This is
+their home till they get one of their own."
+
+He nodded, and the fond parents, accompanied by Dick, hastened to the
+dear one, with love and forgiveness in their hearts. When they were
+all together in Florence's room he stood apart, a silent witness of
+the joyful meeting. How the parents embraced and wept over their
+child, how she clung to them and kissed them, and entreated them to
+believe that her love for them was stronger than it had ever been!
+Aunt Rob's tearful eyes shone with gladness; her one ewe lamb was
+restored to her; a sacred joy stirred their hearts at this re-union.
+
+Then, when their agitation had somewhat subsided, and they had stepped
+in softly to see Reginald, who was still asleep, came the question of
+his removal.
+
+"It must be left to the doctor," said Uncle Rob. "When do you expect
+him, Florence?"
+
+"He is coming to-night, between eight and nine o'clock," she answered,
+and added, with a wistful look, "we are very poor, father."
+
+"You share with us, my dear," was his ready response. "All we have is
+yours. Mother, it is hardly likely he can be removed for a day or two.
+You will stay with Florence to-night."
+
+"And every night," said Aunt Rob, "till we get her home. I don't let
+her out of my sight. Dick, what are you looking so glum for?"
+
+"Am I looking glum?" he said, striving to speak cheerfully. "I was not
+aware of it."
+
+"Dear Dick!" said Florence, stepping to his side. "How can we thank
+you?"
+
+"That will do, that will do," he said. "As if anybody in my place
+wouldn't have done the same! I must be off now--a thousand things to
+attend to."
+
+"Pop into the office between eight and nine for a chat," said Uncle
+Rob.
+
+"All right, uncle, I'll be there," answered Dick, waving goodbye to
+the happy group.
+
+He was glad to get away, to think of the work before him. The search
+in Samuel Boyd's house for the body of Abel Death must be made
+to-night; it might be the last opportunity he would have to do so
+secretly.
+
+"I must dodge the police, and I must get in early," he thought. "At
+nine I will have a chat with Uncle Rob, at ten I'll be in Catchpole
+Square. My mind is in a state of muddle. Let me see how the case
+stands in respect of dates and the consecutive order of events. To
+save confusion I will jot them down."
+
+Taking a small memorandum book from his pocket he halted at a street
+corner, and made the following entries:
+
+"_Friday, 1st March_.--Abel Death discharged by Samuel Boyd. He pays a
+visit to Catchpole Square at about ten o'clock to beg Boyd to take him
+back into his service. Reginald's two visits to the house, the first
+in the afternoon, the second late at night, hour unknown. In his haste
+to get away on the second occasion he drops in the passage the key of
+the street door. Samuel Boyd murdered. Query--Did Abel Death and
+Reginald meet? Would it be advisable, when Reginald is in his right
+senses, to ask him about this?
+
+"_Saturday, 2nd March_.--Mrs. Death goes to Catchpole Square to obtain
+news of her husband. Unsuccessful. Good reason for it. Dead men tell
+no tales. Reginald back in his lodgings, in bed, delirious. The events
+of the previous night being fresh in his mind, it is likely he raved
+about them. Query--Who attended to him? His landlady. Did she hear
+anything that would furnish a clue, and will this occur to her when
+the murder is discovered?
+
+"_Sunday, 3d March_.--Mrs. Death repeats her visits to Catchpole
+Square. Same result. Same reason for it.
+
+"_Monday, 4th March_.--Mrs. Death continues her visits to Catchpole
+Square.
+
+"_Tuesday, 5th March_.--The day of the great fog. My conversation with
+Uncle Rob in the police station. Mrs. Death and Gracie are brought in.
+Her story. Florence leaves home secretly to nurse Reginald. Fearing
+that he is dying, and gathering from his ravings that he wishes to see
+his father, she goes to Catchpole Square after midnight. She is seen
+by the police and drops her handkerchief, which Constable Pond picks
+up. My conversation with Applebee. He tells me that Pond has a room to
+let. I reconnoitre Samuel Boyd's house, and determine to force an
+entrance next night. Only one way of getting in, by means of rope and
+grapnel.
+
+"_Wednesday, 6th March_.--At the police court with Mrs. Death and
+Gracie. I write par. for 'L. B. B.' I take lodgings in Pond's house,
+and obtain possession of Florence's handkerchief. Visit Aunt Rob, and
+learn particulars of Florence's flight. I purchase rope and grapnel. I
+visit Mrs. Death. No news of her husband. Make the acquaintance of Dr.
+Vinsen. He gives Mrs. Death two pounds. Why should he be so generous?
+At one in the morning I get over dead wall, and into Samuel Boyd's
+house. Discovery of the murder. Find Samuel Boyd's written accusation
+of his son. Pocket it. Find Reginald's key to street door. Pocket it.
+Things look black.
+
+"_Thursday, 7th March_--Visit Aunt Rob. Receive letter from Florence.
+Go to her. Fetch Aunt and Uncle Rob. Leave them together. Things look
+blacker."
+
+Replacing the memorandum book in his pocket he became conscious that
+he was being observed. Looking up he saw the sleepy eyes of Dr. Vinsen
+fixed upon him.
+
+"My dear young friend," said the doctor, with an amused smile, "I
+have been observing you for quite three minutes, and wondering what
+engrossing task you were engaged upon to make you oblivious of
+passers-by. An effort of literature--a poem--an inspiration? I envy
+the literary character. So free, so untrammelled by the ordinary
+circumstances of our prosaic existence! It soars on the wings of
+imagination into fairy realms--in-to fai-ry realms. Who knows that
+you have not in your pocket"--he tapped Dick's breast with a light
+finger--"something that will open our minds to noble truths? Who
+knows--who knows?"
+
+"_I_ know," said Dick. "If an account of how many socks, and collars,
+and handkerchiefs I have sent to the wash will elevate mankind I am
+sure I have no objection."
+
+"A washing account," said Dr. Vinsen, with a gentle laugh. "Dear,
+dear, dear! But romance and mystery may be found even in commonplace
+matters. Look around. Observe the men and women who are passing us.
+What secrets are hidden in their breasts? In yours? In mine? It occurs
+to me at this moment to inquire whether mystery is the offspring of
+romance, or romance the offspring of mystery?"
+
+"You can take your choice," said Dick, attempting to shake Dr. Vinsen
+off.
+
+"_Can_ one take one's choice?" said Dr. Vinsen, walking by Dick's
+side, and ignoring his companion's distaste for his society. "Is it
+open to us to do so? Are we free agents? Are we not rather like boats
+on a strange sea, with hidden currents that whirl us on, and
+occasionally bring destruction upon us--des-truc-tion up-on us? Do you
+happen to be aware if the missing man has returned to the bosom of his
+family?"
+
+"I am not aware of it. I should consider it very unlikely."
+
+"Then you have a theory concerning his mysterious disappearance." Dick
+shook his head sullenly. "No? Perhaps you are right not to trouble
+yourself. I perceive that you are not in the mood for conversation. My
+dear young friend, I take my leave. If I can be of any service, pray
+command me."
+
+So saying, Dr. Vinsen raised his hat, affording the world a view of
+his bald head and his halo, and slowly ambled away.
+
+"Confound you!" said Dick, looking after him. "Why did you raise your
+hat to me? I am not that kind of man, you know."
+
+His mind was in a state to magnify and distort the simplest matters.
+To such an extent that the voice of a newsboy shouting in an adjoining
+street caused him to hurry in that direction to buy a paper. There was
+nothing in it touching the murder, and he crumpled it up and threw it
+into the road So he idled away the time until a few minutes before
+nine, when he entered the Bishop Street Police Station, where his
+uncle expected him.
+
+"Well, Dick, my lad," said Inspector Robson, "things have taken a turn
+since our talk the night before last."
+
+"They have, indeed," returned Dick, and thought, "If you knew all!"
+
+"It has been a terrible time," said the inspector, "and we owe you
+what we can never repay."
+
+"You make too much of it, uncle. What did I do but go to Florence when
+she asked me? Did you stop long with her?"
+
+"Till the last minute. Had tea there. It's a blessing the mystery's
+over; it almost drove me mad. It isn't a pleasant reflection that
+Reginald is the son of such a man as Samuel Boyd, but it would be hard
+lines to blame children for the faults of their parents. Have you seen
+Mrs. Death and her little girl?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dick, "I have been twice to their lodgings, and
+they have heard nothing of the missing man. They are in great
+poverty--there are seven little children----"
+
+"Poor creature! How's the little girl?"
+
+"There's a chance of her getting well. A friend has unexpectedly
+turned up, and a doctor is attending her."
+
+Then he related all that he knew of Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"Have you ever heard of him, uncle?"
+
+"Never; he must be a kind gentleman, and I'm glad such a piece of good
+fortune has fallen to Mrs. Death's share. I wish we could find her
+husband for her. Dick, now that Reginald is connected with us, a watch
+ought to be kept on the house in Catchpole Square. Constable Applebee
+says it looks as if it was quite deserted. If it remains so a day or
+two longer I shall consider what is best to be done. Abel Death and
+Mr. Boyd are mixed up together in my mind, and some steps should be
+taken to clear the mystery. You remember what you said about
+murder--do you still hold to it?"
+
+It was an awkward question, and Dick gave an evasive reply.
+
+"You might have a look round Catchpole Square yourself, Dick."
+
+"I will do so," said Dick, and soon afterwards took his departure.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXV.
+
+                    LADY WHARTON AT THE FOUNTAIN.
+
+
+A fine starlight night, and the weather fair all over England,
+especially in Bournemouth where, in their beautiful estate, The
+Gables, Lord and Lady Wharton are giving their yearly ball. The air is
+soft and balmy in this favoured southern retreat, and though it is too
+early yet for the rhododendrons, the gardens are bright with flowers.
+Guests are riding to The Gables from all parts of the county, for this
+annual function is eagerly looked forward to by the belles and beaus
+of Hampshire. At eleven o'clock they begin to arrive, and by midnight
+the nineteenth century revelry is at its full height; at which hour my
+Lady Wharton, deeming that she has done her society duty, ceases to
+receive at the top of the grand staircase, and strolls into the
+grounds to welcome her tardy friends. Lord Wharton, happily
+convalescent, but still weak, and, as some whisper, not so strong in
+his intellect as he might be, is in the card room, where, propped up
+by cushions, he is entertaining a few choice guests by dropping his
+guineas to them. My lady's brother, Lord Fairfax, has also contributed
+to their entertainment, and, feeling that he has done _his_ duty, he
+also strolls into the grounds, and flirts. He is in his fourth decade,
+a handsome gentleman with a blonde moustache, and has not yet made his
+choice in the matrimonial market; therefore he is gladly welcomed by
+all the spring beauties here assembled. But he is not an assiduous
+cavalier, and being weary of most things, is soon weary of languishing
+glances. Standing by a tiny fountain my lady watches him until he
+joins her there.
+
+"They do these things better on the Continent," he says languidly.
+
+Some hostesses would have misunderstood him, but she knows he refers
+to the fountain, and she nods assent. His conversational powers are
+not remarkable, so he allows her to rattle on for his amusement,
+putting in an occasional monosyllable as his contribution.
+
+"Did you leave Wharton in the card room?" she asks.
+
+"Yes," he drawls, and hazards three consecutive words. "Your friend
+arrived?" It is not a question in which he seems to take more than a
+momentary interest. He does everything languidly; even when he raises
+his white fingers to caress his moustache, which has been the business
+of his life, it is done as though the effort were a tax upon his
+physical powers. This, to many of the opposite sex, is one of his
+charms.
+
+"Not yet," my lady answers.
+
+"By the way," he says, and either forgets what he was going to say, or
+finds the effort of a long sentence too great.
+
+"You were going to speak about the old bills?" she asks.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I wrote to him to bring them to-night. I can't imagine how I forgot
+to ask him for them when I gave him the new acceptances you and
+Wharton signed."
+
+"Not--business--woman," he observed, with a pause between each word.
+
+"Don't be ridiculous, Fairfax," she protested, with a merry laugh.
+"Not a business woman? I should like to know what would become of
+Wharton if I were not."
+
+"Floored," said Lord Fairfax.
+
+"Indeed he would be. And don't I manage _you?_"
+
+"Difficult?" he asked.
+
+"Not at all. You are the dearest fellow! I shall be almost ashamed to
+ask you for another cheque to-morrow."
+
+"Don't. Stumped."
+
+"Next week, then?" He nods. She casts a critical look around. "Our
+most brilliant gathering, I think."
+
+"Jolly," he says, and, being by this time exhausted, he leaves her at
+the fountain, where, presently, she is joined by other guests, with
+whom she carries on an animated conversation.
+
+The grounds, with their thousands of coloured lights, are dotted with
+the attractive dresses of the ladies and the soberer costume of the
+gentlemen. Pleasure shows its smiling face, and doors are shut upon
+black care. No face brighter than that of Lady Wharton, none more free
+from the least suspicion of anxiety. Her hearty voice rings out, an
+invitation to mirth and gaiety. And yet as time wears on there is an
+anxious thought in her mind. "Why does the man not come?" she thinks.
+"He promised to be here faithfully, and it must be now nearly one
+o'clock." She consults a jewelled watch. "Yes, it is--one o'clock."
+The fact is, my lady is pressed for money, and she is expecting to
+receive a thousand pounds to-night in ready cash, half of which must
+go to her dressmaker in the morning. For, come what may, my lady must
+be dressed. So she stands at the fountain, and taps her foot
+impatiently. Soft gleaming lights, fair sky with its panoply of stars
+and bright moon shining, sounds of rippling laughter, gay forms
+gliding and flitting through the lacework of the trees: a fairy scene,
+made not less beautiful by the dark spaces wherein the pines, their
+topmost branches silvered by the moon, stand apart, picturesque
+sentinels of the night.
+
+To my lady a liveried footman, who presents a card. She moves into the
+light to read it.
+
+"At last!" she says. "Where is the man?"
+
+"He is waiting to see you, my lady."
+
+She follows the servant, and steps into the shadow of a cluster of
+trees.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+What connection is there between that gay scene in Bournemouth and
+this more sombre scene in Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square,
+where, an hour after midnight, Dick moves in search of the body of
+Abel Death? The invisible links are in the air. Will they ever be
+brought to light and united to form another chain in the mystery?
+
+Dick's search has lasted two hours, and has been conducted with care
+and patience. It is not alone traces of Abel Death he seeks for; he
+searches for anything in the shape of incriminating evidence against
+Reginald, his intention being to take possession of it, and by-and-by,
+perhaps, destroy it. That by so doing he will be committing a
+felonious act and frustrating the course of justice does not trouble
+him. He is working for Florence.
+
+The first room he lingers in is that in which Samuel Boyd lies. No
+change there. The bed is still occupied by that silent, awful figure,
+cold and dead. Incapable of aught for good or evil as it is, it
+exercises a powerful influence over him. He dreads to approach it, and
+it draws him to its side. He steals from the room, shuddering, and,
+closing the door, breathes more freely at the barrier between them;
+but ever and anon, for some time afterwards, he casts a startled look
+over his shoulder, as though expecting to see a phantom standing
+there.
+
+The ghostly moon shines through the windows which are unshuttered, and
+knowing now, from what Inspector Robson said, that an intermittent
+watch is being kept upon the house, he dare not in those rooms carry a
+light. In the rooms with shuttered windows he risks a lighted candle,
+but holds it close to the floor and moves it warily from spot to spot,
+and shades it with his hand, in order to lessen the chance of its
+glimmer being seen from without. This makes his task more difficult,
+and there are moments when he almost regrets having undertaken it.
+
+The wax figure of the Chinaman is still in its chair, holding in its
+hand the stick of the reign of Charles the Second. The chair is
+old-fashioned, too, having a grandmother's hood to it, so that the
+Chinaman sits, as it were, in a cosy alcove, only those standing in
+front of the figure being able to obtain a full view of its face.
+
+Dick finds no further incriminating evidence against Reginald than
+that which he appropriated on his last visit. He makes, however, a
+curious discovery. He has examined every room with the exception of a
+small room on the same floor as the office, against the outer wall of
+which is placed the grand piano. The door of this room opens into the
+passage, and it is locked. His diligent search is rewarded by finding
+the key of the door, which he opens. The room is simply furnished, a
+table and two wooden chairs being all that it contains. A large
+cupboard with folding doors is fixed to the wall, and by pressing a
+spring he loosens one of these doors. The cupboard is bare of shelves,
+and affords ample space for a man to stand upright in. There is a
+sliding panel at the back, about three feet from the floor, and just
+wide enough for a man to squeeze through. He is surprised to see that
+the sliding panel leads to the interior of the grand piano, which is
+quite hollow and contains no wire or wood-work of any kind. The open
+space is large enough for a man to lie down in, though not without
+discomfort. The key of the piano is in the inner part of the lock, and
+by removing this any person concealed there could see into the office,
+and could certainly hear any sounds of voices or movements made
+therein, the watcher being so shrouded in darkness as to be quite safe
+from observation. "Another of Samuel Boyd's tricks," thinks Dick, "for
+spying upon his clerks." To verify this he returns to the office, and
+satisfies himself that he has arrived at the correct explanation.
+
+As he stands pondering over this curious discovery, which in the end
+he dismisses from his mind as of no importance, he finds himself
+mechanically counting the bottles of wine stacked against another part
+of the wall. It is done idly, and without meaning, but he does not
+forget that there are seventy-six bottles, with the crusted dust of
+years upon them. "Port wine, I should say," he thinks. "I should like
+half a pint." But he does not yield to the temptation.
+
+At three in the morning his search is at an end. He can do nothing
+more. He has met with no traces of Abel Death, and he has not found an
+additional clue.
+
+"I must keep my own counsel," he mutters. "If Abel Death turns up will
+it be for good or ill? His absence lays him open to suspicion, but it
+is altogether a case of circumstantial evidence. Supposing him to be
+caught, tried, and convicted, and he an innocent man----!"
+
+He cannot pursue this supposition to its just conclusion. The image of
+Florence presents itself, her hands stretched out, appealing to him to
+save Reginald.
+
+With a sinking heart, and using every precaution to escape
+observation, he succeeds in getting out of the office by the front
+entrance. Oppressed by the conviction that he must now wait for the
+course of events, and that he is powerless to direct them, he is
+walking out of Deadman's Court when the voice of Constable Applebee
+falls upon his ears.
+
+"I thought it was you, sir," said the constable. "Have you been
+looking at the house?"
+
+"Yes," replies Dick, pulling himself together, "from the outside."
+
+"Of course from the outside, sir," says Constable Applebee. "I should
+like to have a look at it from the inside. People are beginning to
+talk about it. It's seven days now since anybody's set eyes on Mr.
+Boyd, and seven days since Mr. Abel Death disappeared. That's what I
+call a coincidence. I hope it's nothing more than that. Hope you're
+comfortable in your new lodgings, sir."
+
+"Quite comfortable, thank you. I must be off to them now. Good night."
+
+"Good night, sir."
+
+Dick is by this time thoroughly tired out, and when he reaches his
+room is glad to tumble into bed.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVI.
+
+           "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" GETS AHEAD OF ITS RIVALS.
+
+
+Two days afterwards, that is, on the 9th of March, some hours after
+the morning papers were in circulation, all London was ringing with
+the news of the mysterious murder in Catchpole Square. The name of
+Samuel Boyd was on every tongue; the newsboys shouted it out raucously
+and jubilantly, with the full force of their lungs, and the wind
+carried it into all the highways and byeways of the vast metropolis;
+it was printed on the variously coloured waybills of the newspapers in
+scarlet letters, green letters, yellow letters, as large as the width
+of the sheets permitted; it was read aloud and discussed in omnibuses,
+in public-house bars, in the workshops and places of business; it was
+bandied about, tossed in the air, caught up and passed on,
+embellished, illustrated and exaggerated, and rolled over the tongue
+as the most tempting of tempting morsels. Editorial offices were alive
+with it, their swing doors had not a moment's rest, the whole of the
+staff were on the _qui vive_, reporters hurried this way and that in
+their hunt for facts, fanciful or otherwise, that had the remotest
+connection, or no connection at all, with the name of the murdered man
+and the circumstances of the murder, as far as they were known. Now
+was the chance for the descriptive writer, for the youthful aspirants
+for journalistic fame, for the enterprising interviewer. Things had
+been rather dull lately. There had been no stirring crime, no
+bloodthirsty deed, no sensational trial, no tremendous conflagration,
+no awful shipwreck, no colliery explosion, no terrible railway
+collision, for quite a week, and circulation was languishing. But here
+at last was a dish of hot spice to stir the blood, to set tongues
+wagging, to fire the imagination, to make the pulses glow. A murder!
+And such a murder! Dark, thrilling, impenetrable, inscrutable,
+enveloped in delicious mystery. What is one man's meat is another
+man's poison, and Samuel Boyd, who had never in life given a beggar a
+penny or the price of a meal to a starving man, was the means, in
+death, of filling many a platter and frothing up many a pewter pot.
+Trade revived. People spent more, drank more, smoked more, went to the
+music-halls and theatres more, for it was impossible to keep still
+with such an excitement in the air. See the radiant faces of the
+ragged street urchins as they shout it out and dispose of their
+sheets, and are not asked for change of a penny--see the journalistic
+scouts as they follow the trail, true trail, false trail, any
+trail--see the crowds in Fleet Street and the Strand and all the
+narrow thoroughfares leading riverwards--see the smart newspaper
+carts, with their dapper ponies flying north, south, east, and west
+with their latest editions--see the travellers on the tops of
+omnibuses throwing down their coppers and bending over to seize the
+papers--see the railway bookstalls besieged by eager buyers, who,
+rushing to catch a train, pick up half a dozen different journals, in
+the hope of finding in one of them two or three lines of different
+import from those contained in all the others--see the men standing at
+street corners, running their eyes down the columns, animated by a
+similar hope--see the telegraph wires, blind and deaf to human
+passion, carrying the message of murder, murder, murder, on their
+hundreds of miles of silent tongues--see the envy of the hawkers of
+wax matches, penny toys, and bone shirt studs, as they watch the
+roaring trade that is being done by the busy armies of tag, rag, and
+bobtail, who form the distributing street agency of journalistic
+literature, and wish that heaven had sent them such a bit of luck.
+Sold out again, Jack! Hurrah! Fly off for another quire. As good as a
+Derby Day, Bill! As good? Ten times better! Where are "all the
+winners" now? Shorn of their glory they sink into the background, and
+no small punter so poor to do them reverence? What are "all the
+winners" to a rattling spicy murder?
+
+Never had "The Little Busy Bee" more fully justified its title than
+on the present occasion. A daring scheme had suggested itself to one
+of the members of the staff, which had been crowned with success.
+Ahead of all its rivals it was the first to publish the exciting news,
+and needless to say it made the most of its golden opportunity. The
+office was besieged; it was like a Jubilee Day. Men and boys fought
+and scrambled for the copies as the steam presses belched them forth,
+and selling them out before they reached the wider thoroughfares,
+rushed back for more. The day was Saturday, and the whirling tumult
+lasted till midnight.
+
+The manner of "The Little Busy Bee's" buzzing in its preliminary
+editions was as follows: First, a quotation in large type from
+"Macbeth." And one cried, "Murder!" Then half a column of the usual
+sensational headings. Then the account of the daring scheme and the
+discovery in the following fashion:
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXVII.
+
+             "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" ENLIGHTENS THE PUBLIC.
+
+
+"Special and exclusive information has just reached us of
+
+
+                  _A Remarkable and Ghastly Murder_
+
+
+in the North of London, and we hasten to lay the particulars before
+the public. It will be fresh in the recollection of our readers that
+in our Tuesday's editions we drew attention to a blind thoroughfare in
+that neighbourhood, known as Catchpole Square, to which the only
+access is through a hooded passage, bearing the ominous and
+significant designation of Deadman's Court. On that morning a poor
+woman, accompanied by her little daughter, whose pallid face and
+emaciated appearance evoked general sympathy, made an application to
+the magistrate at the Bishop Street Police Court respecting the
+mysterious disappearance of her husband, Mr. Abel Death. It appears
+that this man was a clerk in the employ of Mr. Samuel Boyd, of
+Catchpole Square, and that on Friday evening last he was summarily
+discharged by his employer. He was in needy circumstances and he came
+home to his lodgings in a very desponding frame of mind, for the loss
+of his situation spelt ruin to his family. In this desperate strait he
+left his wife at between nine and ten o'clock on the same night, with
+the intention, as she stated, of making an appeal to Mr. Boyd to take
+him back into his service. From that hour to this nothing has been
+heard of him. Neither has anything been heard of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who,
+it may be premised, is supposed to be a man of great wealth, and is
+described by some of his neighbours as a money-lender, by others as a
+miser. Credence is given to the latter description by the fact that he
+lived quite alone, and kept no servants in his house, such domestic
+services as he required being performed by a charwoman who attended
+only when she was sent for.
+
+"Mrs. Death's application at the police court having been made public
+through the medium of our columns it was a reasonable presumption that
+it would have come to the notice of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and that he would
+have sent a communication either to the distracted wife or to the
+newspapers, stating if Abel Death visited him on Friday night, and if
+so, at what hour he left. But Mr. Boyd made no sign. The woman said
+that she had been several times to the house in Catchpole Square, and
+had received no response to her knocking at the street door. Nothing
+was seen of either of the men, and it is probable that nothing would
+have been known for a considerable time had it not been for the bold
+action taken by a valued member of our staff, to whose love of
+adventure we have been frequently indebted.
+
+"We may state at once that this gentleman acted entirely upon his own
+initiative, and that we accept the full responsibility of his
+proceedings, and are prepared to defend them. It may be objected in
+some quarters that he took upon himself duties which did not fall
+within his province. We will not at present argue the point. There was
+a dark mystery; there were rumours of foul play; hidden from public
+gaze stood a house which contained the evidence of
+
+
+                        _A Terrible Tragedy;_
+
+
+futile endeavours had been made to obtain entrance into this house;
+the police did not act, probably because they had no authority to act.
+What followed? That the press stepped in, and by a bold stroke
+
+
+                      _Laid a Foul Crime Bare_.
+
+
+"History records how officers high in command on land and sea, but not
+invested with complete authority, have disobeyed orders and won great
+victories. Success justified them. Success justifies us.
+
+"We come now to details.
+
+"In his endeavour to ascertain whether a search of Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house would afford a clue to the silence of its proprietor and to the
+disappearance of Abel Death, our reporter ran the risk of being
+arrested for burglary. Except that he did not get in by the front door
+we do not propose just now to disclose how he obtained an entrance
+into the open space at the back; sufficient that he did obtain it, and
+that at ten o'clock this morning he found himself in an enclosed yard
+at the rear of the house. The merest examination of this part of the
+premises satisfied him that some person, probably a more experienced
+burglar, had been before him. The back door was locked and bolted, but
+a window sill and the panes of glass above had been smashed in, and
+there were signs that the person who had done this had entered the
+house through the window. To reach the sill the first burglar had
+stood upon a rickety bench which had apparently given way beneath him.
+Our reporter managed to put this together in a sufficiently firm
+manner to afford him a temporary foothold. Then, with an upward
+spring, he got his hands upon the sill, and scrambled through the
+window into a small unfurnished room. He did not effect this violent
+entrance without noise, but there were no indications that his
+movements had disturbed any person in the house, which was silent as
+the grave. His next task was to examine the rooms, all the doors of
+which were unlocked. He proceeded with great caution, and at length
+reached an apartment which, from the fact of its containing a writing
+table, desk, and safe, he concluded was the office in which Mr. Boyd
+conducted his business affairs, although, from the singular collection
+of articles scattered about, it might have been the shop of a dealer
+in miscellaneous goods, comprising as they did several dozens of wine,
+old tapestry and armour, pictures, valuable china, a grand piano, and,
+strangest of all, the wax figure of a Chinaman which might have come
+straight from Madame Tussaud's exhibition. Our reporter confesses to a
+feeling of alarm when he first saw this figure, the back of which was
+towards him, and, while it did not lessen his surprise, it was with
+relief he ascertained its real nature. Up to this point, however,
+strange as were the objects which met his eyes, he had seen nothing to
+warrant his breaking into the house. The safe was locked, and there
+was no appearance of its having been tampered with; with the exception
+of the broken window at the back of the house, there were no signs of
+disorder in any part of it, and he began to doubt the wisdom of his
+proceedings. He was not to remain long in doubt; he was on the
+threshold of
+
+
+                      _An Appalling Discovery_.
+
+
+"There are three doors in the apartment in which he stood. One leading
+to the passage, one on the left, and one on the right. This last door
+opened into a bedroom, which he entered. Seeing the form of a human
+being in the bed he retreated, uncertain how to act. Then he called
+softly, and receiving no answer spoke in a louder tone, and still
+received no answer. Mustering up courage he approached the bed,
+stepping very gently, and laid his hand on the man's shoulder. The
+silence continuing he turned down the bedclothes. The man was dead!
+
+"In view of the proceedings he had determined to take our reporter
+last night obtained from a policeman a personal description of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, and he had no difficulty in identifying the features of
+the dead man. They were those of Abel Death's employer, and from
+certain marks on his throat he came to the conclusion that Mr. Boyd
+had been murdered by strangulation. The position of the furniture did
+not denote that a struggle had taken place on the floor of the
+bedroom, and the reasonable conclusion is that Mr. Boyd had been
+strangled in his sleep. After the deed was done the murderer must have
+composed the limbs of his victim, and arranged the bedclothes over the
+body, in order, probably, to make it appear that Mr. Boyd had died a
+natural death. The shortsightedness of this proceeding is a singular
+feature in this ruthless crime, for it is scarcely possible that the
+marks on his throat could escape detection, or that the strangulation
+could have been effected without some violent efforts on the part of
+the victim to save himself, whereby the bedclothes must have been
+tossed about.
+
+"The silence of Mr. Samuel Boyd on the subject of the disappearance of
+Abel Death is now accounted for; the disappearance of Abel Death has
+yet to be explained. We make no comment. From this hour the matter is
+in the hands of the police, who will doubtless set all the machinery
+of Scotland Yard in motion to discover the murderer and bring him to
+justice.
+
+"A circumstance remains to be mentioned which may furnish a clue.
+Before he left the house to give information to the police our
+reporter's attention was attracted by certain dark stains on the floor
+of the bedroom and the office. They bear the appearance of having been
+made by a man's feet. Our reporter traced these dark stains from the
+office into the passage, and from the passage down a staircase leading
+to the small room which our reporter first entered through the broken
+window. There they end. The mystery is deepened by the fact that there
+are no marks of blood on the clothes of the bed in which the murdered
+man lies. Our reporter scraped off a portion of the stains, which we
+have placed in the hands of an experienced analyst, in order to
+ascertain whether they are stains of human blood.
+
+"An important question, yet to be decided, is, when the murder was
+committed. Our reporter is of the opinion that it was perpetrated
+several days ago. The evidence of doctors will be of value here. We
+understand that no person in the neighbourhood of Catchpole Square has
+seen Mr. Boyd since last Friday evening. From Mrs. Death's evidence at
+the Bishop Street Police Court we gather that her husband has not been
+seen since that day. The presumption is that the murder was committed
+on Friday night. Much depends upon the discovery of Abel Death and
+upon the explanation he will be able to give of his movements. It is
+understood that Mr. Boyd leaves one son, his only child, who is now in
+London.
+
+"We shall continue to issue editions of 'The Little Busy Bee' until
+midnight, in which further particulars will be given of this strange
+and most mysterious murder."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXVIII.
+
+                     THE BURSTING OF THE CLOUD.
+
+
+Inspector Robson, being on night duty, was not present at the Bishop
+Street Police Station when the reporter of "The Little Busy Bee" gave
+information of the murder. Aunt Rob had had a busy day; while
+admitting that her son-in-law was very weak, she insisted that he
+would have a greater chance of getting well in a short time if he were
+removed from his lodgings to their home. "It's his proper place," she
+said, "and I won't rest till I get him there." She argued with the
+doctor, one of the old school, who shook his head; she continued to
+argue with him, and he continued to shake his head. This exasperated
+her.
+
+"I suppose, doctor," she said, with freezing politeness, "you won't
+allow that women ought to have opinions."
+
+"Not medical opinions," he replied.
+
+"He may shake his head till he shakes it off," she said privately to
+Uncle Rob, "but he won't convince _me_." He smiled an admission of
+this declaration. "And look at Florence," she continued; "the poor
+girl is being worn to skin and bone. We shall have her down
+presently."
+
+"But is it safe to move him, mother?" asked Florence, who, next to
+Reginald's recovery to health, desired nothing so much as a return to
+the dear old home.
+
+"My darling child," said Aunt Rob, "when did you know me to be wrong?
+Ask father how much I've cost him for doctors since we've been
+married. I nursed you through the whooping cough and scarlatina
+without a doctor, and are you any the worse for it? I know as much as
+a good many of them by this time. There are some doctors who won't
+allow you to suggest a single thing. The moment you do they're up in
+arms. 'What business have _you_ to know?' they think. This is one of
+that kind. Reginald is my son now, and I'm doing by him as I'd do by
+you."
+
+The upshot was, all preparations being made, that Reginald was moved
+on Saturday morning, and bore the removal well. When Florence saw him
+sleeping calmly in her own room she cried for joy.
+
+"It's like old times, mother," she said, tenderly.
+
+Aunt Rob smiled a little sadly; when a daughter is married it can
+never be again quite like old times in the home in which she was born
+and reared. Something is missing, something gone. It is not that the
+old love is dead, but that a new love is by its side, with new hopes,
+and mayhap new fears, to make up the fulness of life. The mother looks
+back upon her own young days, and realises now what she did not think
+of then, that the child she nestled at her bosom is going through the
+changes she has experienced; and so, if her daughter is happily mated,
+she thanks God--but now and then a wistful sigh escapes her.
+
+In the afternoon Dick came to see them, and they chatted in the
+sitting room in which they had passed so many happy hours. He was not
+in a bright mood; dreading every minute that the murder would be
+discovered and made public, he felt that it would be almost a relief
+when the cloud burst, as burst it must before long. Knowing what he
+knew, the suspense was maddening.
+
+"Now, Dick," said Aunt Rob, "I've got something to say to you.
+Reginald and Florence are here, as you know, but that doesn't make any
+difference in your room. There it is, ready for you, as it has been
+all through, and I shall begin to think there's some secret reason for
+your keeping away from us if you don't occupy it at once. I'll take no
+denial, Dick."
+
+"Let us wait a bit, aunt," said Dick. "I'll sleep here now and then,
+and take my meals here, but it wouldn't be fair to Mrs. Pond for me to
+run away after having been in her house only a few days. So, like the
+kind dear soul that you are, let it remain as it is for a little
+while. What's that?"
+
+It was a newsboy shouting at the top of his voice, and selling copies
+of "The Little Busy Bee" as fast as he could hand them out.
+
+"It's a murder!" cried Aunt Rob. "And do you hear that? Hark!
+'Horrible discovery!' Merciful heavens! 'Catchpole Square!' Where
+Reginald's father lives!"
+
+The two men ran out of the house like mad, and were just in time to
+tear the last copy from the boy's hands. A glance at the headlines was
+sufficient.
+
+"You were right, Dick, you were right," said Uncle Rob. "Samuel Boyd's
+murdered!"
+
+They looked at each other with white faces.
+
+"Found dead in his bed! Strangled! We must keep it from them at home,
+Dick."
+
+"Impossible, uncle. Listen--there's another boy shouting it out.
+Let's get back to the house."
+
+They read as they walked, Uncle Rob holding the paper, and Dick
+looking over his shoulder.
+
+"What is it--what is it?" cried Aunt Rob, meeting them in the passage.
+
+"If it's true, it's murder," said Uncle Rob. "Come into the room, and
+shut the door. Speak low. Is Florence upstairs?"
+
+"Yes. Wait a minute." She stepped softly to the room above, and
+quickly returned. "Reginald is dozing, and Florence has fallen asleep
+in her chair. The poor child is tired out. Murder! Where? In Catchpole
+Square?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Reginald's father?"
+
+"Yes." She uttered a cry of horror. "I must go to the office at once."
+
+"Dick! You're not going, too?"
+
+"I can't stop, aunt. I must go with uncle."
+
+He was in a fever of impatience to get out of the house.
+
+"Do what you can, mother, to keep it from Florence," said Uncle Rob,
+hurriedly. "If it comes to her ears tell her we've gone to see about
+it. Now, then, Dick."
+
+"Leave me the paper, father. How horrible! How horrible!"
+
+"Here it is; don't let Florence see it. We'll get another as we go
+along." As they hastened to Bishop Street Station he said, "This is a
+bad business, Dick."
+
+"A frightful business."
+
+"I wonder if Mr. Boyd made a will."
+
+"Ah, I wonder."
+
+"If he hasn't his money falls to Reginald. The chances are, though,
+that there's a will, disinheriting him."
+
+"Do you think so?" asked Dick.
+
+"Don't you?" his uncle asked, in return.
+
+"I don't know what to think. Time will show."
+
+"It will show a good many things. It's got to show what has become of
+Abel Death. I'm sorry for his wife and that poor little girl."
+
+"I'm sorry for a good many people," said Dick. His uncle cast a
+hurried look at him. "I don't mean anything. My head's in a whirl."
+
+"No wonder. There's another boy shouting the news. Run after him and
+get a paper."
+
+They both raced, and bought two copies. The boy's face was beaming.
+
+"He's happy enough," said Inspector Robson.
+
+At the police station they learned that two constables had been sent
+to Catchpole Square to ascertain whether the news was true.
+
+"I've given them instructions," said the day inspector, "if they can't
+get into the house by the front door, to scale the wall at the back. I
+can't say I like the way this case has been got up. Those newspaper
+men are getting too meddlesome altogether."
+
+"But if it's true," suggested Inspector Robson.
+
+"That will make it all the worse for us," grumbled the day inspector.
+"The next thing the papers will do will be to start a Scotland Yard of
+their own. The fact is, the police haven't got power enough; we
+daren't move without proof positive. It's all very well to talk of the
+liberty of the subject, but it's my opinion the subject's got more
+liberty than it has a right to have. I'll give you an instance. I know
+a man who is as mad as mad can be--a dangerous chap, with a
+bloodthirsty eye, carries knives, and looks at you as if he'd like to
+murder you. But we daren't touch him. Why? Because nobody charges him.
+When he sticks a knife into somebody we can lay our hands on him, but
+not till then; so we've got to wait till mischiefs done. Then they'll
+prove him mad, and he'll be made comfortable for life. There's this
+affair; the public will be down on us for not being the first to make
+the discovery. _We_ can't move, but a newspaper man can. It's like
+taking the bread out of our mouths."
+
+Inspector Robson made no comment, but offered advice.
+
+"If I were in your place I should send three or four more constables
+to Catchpole Square. Deadman's Court is a narrow thoroughfare, and
+there'll be a rush of people to stare at the house. There should be a
+guard back and front. I'm going there now to have a look round."
+
+"I'll send the men after you," said the day inspector, "instanter."
+
+Off they hurried to Catchpole Square, where they found that a great
+many sight-seers had already gathered, of whom only a few at a time
+were allowed to enter to stare up at the windows of Samuel Boyd's
+house, a constable being stationed at the entrance of Deadman's Court
+to guard the passage. Inspector Robson asked this officer where the
+other constable was.
+
+"Gone to the station, sir, for further instructions," replied the
+constable, whose name was Filey.
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Simmons, sir. We was detailed together."
+
+"Have you been in the house?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"How did you get in?"
+
+"Over the wall, at the back. We borrowed a ladder, and Simmons mounted
+and got over, while I kept watch outside."
+
+"What did he find?"
+
+"The body, sir, just as the paper describes."
+
+"Did you get into the house the same way as Simmons?"
+
+"No, sir. He found the key of the street door hanging on a cord in Mr.
+Boyd's bedroom, and he came out that way and let me in."
+
+At this point four constables from the station appeared on the scene,
+Applebee among them.
+
+"Who has the key of the street door?"
+
+"I have, sir."
+
+"Give it to me. I knew Mr. Boyd by sight, and so did you, Applebee."
+
+"Could pick him out of a thousand, sir."
+
+"And you, Dick, were intimately acquainted with him. We'll go in and
+see the body. By the way, Filey, was the street door chained and
+bolted when Simmons unlocked it?"
+
+"I never asked him. Here he is, sir; he can answer for himself."
+
+Constable Simmons joined the group, and Inspector Robson repeated the
+question.
+
+"Neither locked _nor_ bolted, sir," he replied.
+
+Inspector Robson drew Dick aside, and said, "That's a suspicious
+circumstance, Dick. The murderer got in by the back entrance, and got
+out by the front. I argue it this way. He gets in, he kills the man,
+he finds the key of the street door in the bedroom, he goes down,
+unchains, unbolts, and unlocks the door. He then returns to the
+bedroom and fastens the key on the cord, goes down again and lets
+himself out. It seems to prove that the murder was committed by a
+novice."
+
+Dick made no remark. He recollected that Mrs. Death had not said
+anything in the police station of Reginald's visit to his father in
+the afternoon, and of his having a second key to the street door. That
+information had been given exclusively to Dick by Mrs. Death in
+Draper's Mews; it would come out presently, of course, but he would
+not utter a word to throw the shadow of a suspicion on Reginald. "A
+nice treacherous part I'm playing," he thought, "but I must go on with
+it. God knows how things will turn out."
+
+There were some twenty or thirty persons in the Square; a few were
+airing theories concerning the murder, and recalling other crimes as
+mysterious and thrilling; one man was boasting that he had seen every
+house in London in which a murder had been committed during the last
+forty years; the majority were silent, and appeared to derive a creepy
+enjoyment by simply staring at the walls and windows. A journalist was
+jotting down everything he heard that could be incorporated into an
+article. Two newspaper artists were sketching, and one of these came
+forward and asked Inspector Robson if he would kindly point out the
+window of the room in which the body was lying. He replied that he did
+not know. The other artist, observing that the Inspector had a key in
+his hand, inquired if it belonged to the house.
+
+"Key of the street door," said the inspector, whereupon the artist
+immediately took a sketch of it, and wrote beneath, "Key of the Street
+Door by which the Murderer Made his Escape."
+
+"We go in for realism," he said, as with a few skilful touches he
+limned the faces of Inspector Robson, Constable Applebee, and Dick on
+his sketching pad. "Nothing tickles the public so much as sketches
+from real life in pen and pencil. We live in a melodramatic age, and
+must go with the times. I belong to 'The Illustrated Afternoon.' Now I
+call these speaking likenesses. I take it you belong to the force, and
+are here upon official business. May I inquire your name, or shall I
+call it the Portrait of a Gentleman who Carried the Street Door Key?"
+
+With no good grace Inspector Robson gave his name, which was placed
+beneath his portrait. Then Applebee was asked for _his_ name, and it
+was given more willingly. The worthy constable had no objection to his
+features appearing in "The Illustrated Afternoon"; the picture would
+be preserved in the family as an heirloom.
+
+"And yours?" inquired the artist, of Dick.
+
+"Private person," said Dick.
+
+"Thank you," said the artist, and wrote beneath the portrait, "Private
+Person who, for Unexplained Reasons, Declined to Give his Name."
+
+The insertion of the key in the lock caused much excitement, and all
+the artillery of the press was brought to bear upon the inspector. The
+industrious journalists advanced cogent reasons why they should be let
+into the house; they begged, they clamoured, but they could not
+convince the obdurate inspector.
+
+"Very sorry, gentlemen," he said, "but it can't be allowed."
+
+He could not, however, prevent them from obtaining a glimpse of the
+dark passage, and this glimpse was quite sufficient to enable them to
+give a vivid description of the walls, the staircase, and the umbrella
+stand with one umbrella in it, which the eagle eye of the smarter of
+the artists transferred like lightning to his pad. It was an
+interesting feature in his article, "The Murdered Man's Umbrella."
+There was great disappointment among the group outside when the door
+was closed upon them.
+
+"You've been up these stairs often enough, Dick," said Inspector
+Robson. "Take us to the room."
+
+His eyes opened wide when they reached the office, and both he and
+Constable Applebee stared around in amazement.
+
+"Did you ever see anything like this, Applebee?"
+
+"Never, sir, out of a play."
+
+They spoke in hushed voices.
+
+Dick could not have explained why he counted the bottles of wine. It
+was done mechanically, and without motive, but it gave him a surprise.
+"Seventy-five bottles," he thought. "I'll take my oath that when I
+counted them the night before last, there were seventy-six."
+
+"Where's the bedroom, Dick?" whispered the inspector.
+
+Dick opened the door, and creeping in, they stood looking down upon
+the dead face. In this awful presence they were dumb. Stepping very
+softly they returned to the office. Then Inspector Robson spoke.
+
+"It's Samuel Boyd. What do you say, Applebee--do you recognise the
+features?"
+
+"I'll swear to the man, sir."
+
+"And you, Dick?"
+
+"There can be no doubt of it."
+
+"The coroner must be informed. Go and see who's knocking at the street
+door, Applebee. Don't let any one in." The constable departed on his
+errand. "It's a clear case, Dick. I wouldn't say so to any one but
+you, and we must keep our own counsel. The name of the murderer of
+Samuel Boyd is Abel Death. Now we know why he's keeping out of the
+way. He's got a long start of us. Here's Applebee coming back. Not a
+word. Who is it, Applebee?"
+
+"Mrs. Death and her little girl, sir. She's half distracted, and tried
+to force her way in."
+
+"We've seen what we came to see," said Inspector Robson, "and no
+person must be admitted into the house. You will keep in the Square
+to-night, Applebee. I'll put another man on your beat."
+
+"Very good, sir."
+
+The moment they emerged into the Square Gracie ran to Dick and took
+his hand. An infinite pity filled his heart as he looked down at her
+pallid, mournful face.
+
+"It's all right now, mother," she said, hoarsely. "Dick'll stand up
+for us."
+
+"Is it true, sir, is it true?" cried Mrs. Death, a wild terror in her
+eyes. "We've run here as fast as we could."
+
+"It is unhappily true," he answered.
+
+"Then where's my husband? Do you know what they're saying? That he
+murdered Mr. Boyd! They lie--they lie! Oh, my God! Is there any
+justice in the world?"
+
+"Don't make a disturbance, Mrs. Death," said Inspector Robson, very
+kindly. "I am truly sorry for you, but you can do no good by coming
+here."
+
+"Where else should I come, sir?" she asked, her tears falling fast.
+"Mr. Boyd is the only man who can tell me what has become of my
+husband, and he's dead, you say. Who killed him? What a wicked
+world--oh what a wicked, wicked world! Haven't I enough to bear
+without this being thrown in my teeth?"
+
+"Don't take on so, mother," said Gracie, in a dull, apathetic voice,
+but Dick understood how great her inward suffering was by the
+convulsive twining of her little fingers round his. "It's all right
+now we've got Dick. You're our friend, ain't you, Dick?"
+
+"May they be struck down dead for their lies!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "How
+dare they, how dare they accuse my poor husband, who never raised his
+hand against a living creature!"
+
+"Do these people live in your neighbourhood?" asked Inspector Robson.
+
+"Yes, sir; they do."
+
+"They should be warned not to be so free with their tongues, or they
+may get themselves in trouble. Can you point them out?"
+
+"I can show them you," said Gracie, answering for her mother.
+
+"Go with her," said Inspector Robson to Dick, in a low tone, "and give
+her neighbours a caution. The poor woman has something yet worse in
+store for her. Then go home to Aunt Rob and Florence, and remain there
+to-night. They need a man's support and sympathy, and my duties will
+chain me to the office."
+
+"Thank you, sir," said Gracie, whose sharp ears caught every word,
+"you're ever so good to us." A sudden tightening of her hand on Dick's
+caused him to look up, and he saw Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"I have heard what has passed," said the doctor, addressing himself to
+Inspector Robson, "and shall be glad to offer my services in the
+interests of humanity--the in-te-rests of hu-ma-ni-ty."
+
+"Who may you be, sir?" inquired Inspector Robson.
+
+"I am Dr. Vinsen. Our friends here have some knowledge of me, I
+believe." He shed a benevolent smile around. "This is a most shocking
+murder. It would be worth your while, Mr. Remington, if you could
+discover the perpetrator of the frightful crime, and so relieve this
+unfortunate woman's distress. It shall be done, madam, it shall be
+done. Rely upon me. Let not the criminal hope that his guilt can be
+for ever hidden. There is an All-seeing Eye--Divine justice will
+overtake him--will o-ver-take him. Is that the house in which the
+victim lies?"
+
+"Yes," said Dick.
+
+"A singular place for a man to live in--and die in. Now, my dear
+madam, if you wish me to admonish these slanderers I am ready to
+accompany you."
+
+"Dick's going to speak to 'em," said Gracie.
+
+"Oh, Dick's going to speak to them. And you would rather Dick did it?"
+
+"Yes, if you please, sir."
+
+"Well, then, Dick it shall be. I have no doubt he will do it as well
+as myself--better, perhaps, he being a literary character." There was
+a faint twinkle in his sleepy eyes. "But you have no objection to my
+walking a little way with your mother, I hope? Mr. Inspector, have you
+any opinion----"
+
+"Don't ask me for opinions," interrupted Inspector Robson.
+
+"Pardon my indiscretion, but one's natural curiosity, you know. There
+will be an inquest?"
+
+"Of course there will be an inquest."
+
+"Of course--_of_ course. Good day, Mr. Inspector, I am greatly obliged
+to you. Now, my dear madam."
+
+They walked out of Deadman's Court, Mrs. Death and Dr. Vinsen in
+front, Dick and Gracie in the rear, at whom now and then the doctor,
+his head over his shoulder, cast an encouraging smile.
+
+"Do you like him, Dick?" asked Gracie.
+
+"No, I don't," he replied, "and I don't know why."
+
+"_I_ do," said Gracie. "He's so slimy."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXIX.
+
+                     A MODERN KNIGHT OF CHIVALRY.
+
+
+Draper's Mews and its purlieus were on fire with excitement, raised by
+a spark dropped by a vicious beetle-browed coster, whose chronic state
+for years past had been too much beer, and liquor of a worse kind.
+Mrs. Death's neighbours were by no means unfavourably disposed towards
+her and her family. The kindness of the poor to the poor is
+proverbial, and there is much less friction in the way of social
+scandal among the lower classes than among those of higher rank. This
+was exemplified in Draper's Mews, where the Death family had long
+resided, and had fought life's bitter battle in amity with all around
+them. Now and then, of course, small differences had cropped up, but
+they were soon got over, and there was no serious disturbance of
+friendly relations. To this happy state of things there was, however,
+an exception. It happened in this way.
+
+Two or three years ago, on a bright summer day, the beetle-browed
+coster wheeled his barrow through the poor neighbourhood, disposing of
+his stock of early cherries at fourpence the standard pound. Children
+who had a halfpenny or a penny to spare, beggared themselves
+incontinently, and walked about with cherry ear-rings dangling in
+their ears, while some made teapots with fruit and stalks, and
+refreshed themselves with imaginary cups of the finest leaf of China.
+Abel Death stood by, and looking at the children thought of his own,
+and fingered the few loose coppers in his pocket. Strange that fruit
+so tempting and young--the cherries were whitehearts, with the
+daintiest blush on their innocent cheeks--should have been destined to
+bring sorrow to the hearts of those who were dear to the poor clerk!
+But in this reflection we must not forget the apple in the Garden of
+Eden.
+
+Unable to resist the temptation Abel Death bought half a pound of the
+pretty things, and had received and paid for them, when he noticed an
+ugly piece of lead at the bottom of the scale in which the fruit was
+weighed. What made the matter worse was that on the coster's barrow
+was displayed an announcement in blazing letters of vermilion, "Come
+to the Honest Shop for Full Weight." Which teaches a lesson as to the
+faith we should place in boisterous professions. Abel Death
+remonstrated, the coster slanged and bullied, there was a row and a
+growling crowd, some of whom had been defrauded in like manner, and
+among the crowd an inspector of weights and measures, who, backed by a
+constable, forthwith brought before the magistrate the cheat, the
+barrow (the coster wheeling it), the innocent cherries, and the scales
+with the piece of lead attached to the wrong balance. The moving
+scene, with its animated audience laughing, babbling, explaining at
+the heels of the principal actors in the drama, was almost as good a
+show as a Punch and Judy. With tears in his eyes, which he wiped away
+with his cuff, the coster declared that he'd take his oath he didn't
+know how the piece of lead could have got on the bottom of the scale,
+all he could say was that some one who had a down on him must have put
+it there to get him in trouble, he'd like to find out the bloke, that
+he would, he'd make it hot for him; and, despite this whining defence,
+was fined, would not pay the fine, and went to prison for seven days,
+whimpering as he was led from the court, "Wot's the use of a cove
+tryin' to git a honest livin'?"
+
+The result of this swift stroke of justice was a mortal enmity against
+Abel Death. He proclaimed a vendetta, and waited for his chance,
+meanwhile avenging himself by kicking and cuffing the younger members
+of the Death family when he met them, and encouraging his children to
+do the same. The chance came with the disappearance of Abel Death and
+the discovery of the murder of Samuel Boyd. Forthwith he set light to
+a fire which spread with startling rapidity, and he went about
+instilling his poison into the ears of Mrs. Death's neighbours. Hence
+her agony of mind.
+
+Dick traced the rumours to their fountain head, found the man, talked
+to him, argued with him--in vain. It was a public matter, and the
+usual crowd collected.
+
+"Look 'ere," cried the coster, to Dick, "we don't want none o' _your_
+cheek, we don't. Who are you, I'd like to know, puttin' _your_ spoke
+in? A innercent man, is 'e? Looks like it, don't it? Wot's the
+innercent man a-keepin' out of the way for? Why don't 'e come 'ome?
+Tell me that? 'Ere, I'll wait till you've made up somethink, somethink
+tasty, yer know. Take yer time. Wot! Ain't got a bloomin' word to say
+for yerself? Wot do you think?" Appealing to the people surrounding
+them. "'E's a nice sort o' chap to come palaverin' to me, ain't 'e?"
+
+The listeners were not all of one mind, many of them, indeed, being
+mindless. Some took one side, some took another, while Mrs. Death and
+Gracie stood by, pitiful, white-faced spectators of the scene.
+
+"Why, it's as clear as mud," continued the coster. "The sneakin' thief
+killed 'is master, and then laid 'ands on everythink 'e could collar,
+and cut away. Put them things together, and there you are, yer know."
+
+"I know where _you'll_ be," said Dick, speaking in his best judicial
+manner, "if you're not careful. It won't be the first time you've got
+yourself in trouble." The shot told, and the listeners wavered. "We're
+Englishmen, I believe," said Dick, following up his advantage. "We
+don't carry knives like the Italians, or fight with our legs like the
+French, and we're not made in Germany." This cosmopolitan reference
+was an immense hit, and two or three politicians said "Hear, hear!"
+Dick went on. "We fight with our fists, and we don't hit a man when
+he's down. What we insist upon is fair play; that's what we wave our
+flag for--fair play. Look at Mrs. Death, a hard-working, respectable
+woman, that's lived among you all these years, and never done one of
+you an ill turn. Look at her innocent children that this great hulking
+brute is flinging stones at. It's cowardly, sneaking work. Oh, I'm not
+afraid of you, my man; if you lift your hand against me I'll give you
+something to remember me by. You haven't the pluck to hit one of your
+own size; you only hit women and children. I don't believe you've got
+a drop of English blood in your cowardly carcase." With sparkling eyes
+and glowing face he turned to the crowd. "I appeal to a jury of
+English men and women. Is what this brute is doing manly, is it fair,
+is it English--that's the point, is it English?"
+
+There was no doubt now as to the sympathy. It went out full and free
+to Mrs. Death and Gracie, who stood, as it were, in the dock, with the
+beetle-browed, sodden-faced coster accusing them, and this generous,
+bright-eyed, open-faced young fellow defending them. A woman who had a
+good recollection of the cherry incident, called out, "Cherries!" and
+they all began to laugh. This laughter completely settled the matter;
+the victory was won. The coster slunk off.
+
+Dick was overwhelmed with congratulations, and Mrs. Death cast
+grateful glances at him, and wistful glances at her old friends and
+neighbours. They answered the mute appeal by thronging about her. To
+her they said, "Never you mind, my dear, we'll see you righted." And
+to Dick, "You spoke up like a man, sir, and we're proud of you." Which
+he capped, rather vaguely, by retorting, "I'm proud of _you_. You're
+the sort of women that have made England what it is. Wives and
+mothers, that's what _you_ are." A shrill voice called out, "Not all
+of us, sir," amid shouts of laughter, which caused Dick to add, "Then
+I hope you soon _will_ be." This happy rejoinder won him the admiring
+glances of all the single women, many of whom (as yet unattached)
+breathed silent aspirations that heaven would send them such a man. At
+the worst of times Dick was a good-looking young fellow; seen now at
+his best, glowing with fervour, and espousing the cause of the weak,
+he was positively handsome. What wonder that maiden hearts were
+fluttering! He could have picked and chosen.
+
+Dr. Vinsen had been an amused witness of the encounter.
+
+"My young friend," he said, "my dear young friend, victorious again,
+always victorious; and in eloquence a Demosthenes. Accept my
+congratulations. Mrs. Death, take your little girl home and put her to
+bed, then apply a hot linseed poultice. I will call upon you to-morrow
+morning. Mr. Dick Remington--pardon the familiarity, but Dick is so
+appropriate--I salute you--sal-ute you."
+
+Dick nodded good-day, and turned off with Gracie.
+
+"Oh, Dick," she said, fondling his hand, "you're splendid, splendid!"
+No knight of chivalry in "the good old times" (which were much worse
+than the present) ever inspired deeper admiration in the breast of
+lady fair than Dick did in the breast of this poor little waif. "I
+told you, mother, it would be all right if we had Dick with us."
+
+"Yes, you did, dear."
+
+"Don't I wish I was old enough to walk out with you!" said Gracie.
+
+"How do you know I'm not a married man, Gracie?" he asked.
+
+"Go along!" she replied, with a touch of scorn. "As if I don't know
+the married ones by only looking at 'em!"
+
+"You mustn't mind her foolishness, sir," said Mrs. Death. "She says
+the silliest things! We're very grateful to you, sir."
+
+"Oh, nonsense," he said, "anyone else would have done the same."
+
+"They wouldn't," said Gracie. "They couldn't."
+
+With a kind pressure of their hands he turned in the direction of Aunt
+Rob's house, where a very different task awaited him.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XXX.
+
+                     REGINALD'S MAN OF BUSINESS.
+
+
+As it was in Draper's Mews so was it in other parts of the metropolis.
+The murder was talked of everywhere, and in some mysterious way the
+disappearance of Abel Death was associated with it. The wildest
+speculations were indulged in. He had gone to Australia, he had gone
+to America, he had never left England at all, he had taken with him an
+enormous sum of money which he had found in the house in Catchpole
+Square, he had so disguised himself that his own wife and children
+would not have known him, he had been seen in various parts of London.
+He was generally condemned, and had no defenders. Had his fate, if
+caught and in the clutches of the law, depended upon the public vote,
+his doom would have been sealed.
+
+So was it with Mrs. Pond and Mrs. Applebee, who could talk upon no
+other subject.
+
+"Applebee says that when Inspector Robson saw the body he turned as
+white as a ghost."
+
+"Why should he?" asked Mrs. Pond. "It's not the first body he's seen
+by many."
+
+"Why, don't you know, my dear," said Mrs. Applebee, "that his
+daughter's married to Mr. Boyd's son?"
+
+"No, I never heard of it."
+
+Mrs. Applebee bristled with importance. "They were married only a few
+weeks ago, and they do say it was a runaway match. Off they went one
+morning, arm in arm, to the registrar's office, and she comes home
+half an hour afterwards, and says, 'Mother, I'm married to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd.' 'Married, Florence!' cries Mrs. Robson, and bursts
+into tears.
+
+"Florence!" said Mrs. Pond, in dismay, thinking of the handkerchief.
+
+"That's her name, my dear, and a pretty girl I'm told. She's a lucky
+one. Applebee says if Mr. Boyd hasn't made a will her husband'll come
+in for everything. Mr. Boyd must have been worth piles of money. Let's
+hope it'll do somebody good; it never did while he was alive. It's
+curious that your lodger, Mr. Remington, is mixed up in it, too. He's
+Inspector Robson's nephew, you know; him and Miss Florence was brought
+up together. He's been hanging about Catchpole Square a good deal the
+last week or two; in the dead of night, too. Applebee says he'd like
+to get hold of that woman that slipped through his hands on the night
+of the fog. He's got an idea that she must have something to do with
+the murder."
+
+"But doesn't he think Abel Death did it?" asked Mrs. Pond, faintly.
+
+"Oh, yes, he thinks that, as everybody does, but the woman might be
+mixed up with it somehow. Just listen to those boys shouting out
+another edition. What are they calling out? Fresh discoveries! I must
+get a paper; that'll be the third I've bought to-day. Perhaps they've
+caught Abel Death. The man on 'The Illustrated Afternoon' took
+Applebee's portrait, and I'm dying to see it. I wouldn't miss it for
+anything."
+
+There was, of course, but one subject in Aunt Rob's mind when Dick
+presented himself. She told him that Reginald was in a terrible state.
+
+"I couldn't stop the boys coming into the street," she said, "and
+Reginald heard them. Florence ran down to me all in a flutter, and
+asked if I didn't hear them calling out something about a murder in
+Catchpole Square, and what was it? Then she caught sight of the paper
+that I was trying to hide, and when she looked at it she was
+frightened out of her life. We did all we could to keep it from
+Reginald, but he couldn't help seeing from our faces that there was
+something serious the matter. At last there was nothing for it but to
+tell him, and we did it as gently as we could. But the shock was
+dreadful; he sobbed like a little child. Then he cried that he must go
+to the house, and we had almost to use force to prevent him leaving
+his bed. Florence threw her arms round him, and begged and implored so
+that he had to give in. We tried to comfort him by saying that it
+mightn't be true, that it might be another man who was murdered, and
+that you and Uncle Rob had gone to see about it. I'm afraid to ask you
+if it's true, Dick."
+
+"It is too true," he replied, and rapidly related all that had passed
+since he and Uncle Rob had left her. She listened horror-struck, and
+when he finished could hardly find voice to ask who he thought was the
+murderer.
+
+"I don't know what to think," he said.
+
+"There can be only one man," she said, but he stopped her from
+proceeding.
+
+"Don't let's talk about it just now, aunt. There are a dozen men who
+would rather see Samuel Boyd dead than alive. He had plenty of
+enemies, and he deserved to have. If Reginald knew I was here he would
+want to see me."
+
+"He made me promise the moment either of you came back to bring you up
+to him."
+
+"We'll go at once. There must be no further concealment."
+
+Reginald was sitting up in bed, very white and haggard.
+
+"I thought I heard voices," he said when they entered the room. "Have
+you been there?"
+
+"Yes, I have been there," said Dick.
+
+"Did you see him? Speak--speak!"
+
+"I saw him."
+
+"You saw him! Well--well?"
+
+"He is dead."
+
+"My God! My God! My father!--Dead! And he died at enmity with me!"
+groaned Reginald, sinking down in bed, and turning his face to the
+wall. They did not disturb him--did not dare to speak. "Is it certain
+that he was murdered," he said presently in a broken voice, "that he
+did not die a natural death?"
+
+"I fear there is no doubt."
+
+"Strangled, the paper says--strangled!" Dick was silent. "Strangled in
+his sleep! Without having time to think, to pray! Oh, Florence, what
+shame, what misery I have brought upon you!"
+
+"It is an awful misfortune, Reginald, dear," said Florence, her arms
+round his neck, her face nestled close to his, "and it makes us all
+very unhappy. But there is no shame in it, dearest."
+
+"There is, there is," he moaned. "Shame, shame--misery and disgrace!"
+
+Dick, observing him closely, strove to arrive at some conclusion,
+apart from the evidence in his possession, with respect to his
+complicity in the terrible deed. Innocent or guilty, the shock of the
+news could have produced no other effect than was shown in the white
+face, the shaking body, the sobbing voice. There was another interval
+of silence, which, again, Reginald was the first to break. "Tell me
+everything."
+
+"You know the worst," said Dick, "let us wait till you are stronger."
+
+"No," cried Reginald, "I cannot wait. You must tell me
+everything--now, here! Wait? With those cries ringing in my ears?
+Don't you hear them? Hark!" They listened, and heard nothing. It was
+the spiritual echo of the ominous sounds that was in Reginald's ears.
+"Is anyone suspected? Is there any clue? Are not the people speaking
+about it in the streets?"
+
+"There are all sorts of rumours," said Dick, reluctantly. "When Uncle
+Rob and I went into the house we found everything as the papers
+describe. Nothing seems to have been taken away, but of course we
+can't be positive on that point yet. There were no signs of a
+struggle."
+
+"The paper speaks of bloody footprints," said Reginald, a white fear
+in his eyes.
+
+"There are signs of them," said Dick, with a guilty tremor.
+
+"And no blood on my--my father's body, nor in the bed?"
+
+"None."
+
+"The house has been broken into?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The man who broke into it did the deed," said Reginald, in a low,
+musing tone; then, after a pause, "But the blood--the blood! How to
+account for that? How did you get into the house?"
+
+"Through the front door."
+
+"But--the key!" exclaimed Reginald, and Dick fancied he detected signs
+of confusion. "Where did you get the key from?"
+
+"A policeman scaled the wall at the back of the house, and entered
+through the broken window. He found the key in your father's room, and
+he came down and let us in."
+
+"He had to draw the bolts?"
+
+"The door was not bolted, and the chain was not up."
+
+"Then my father couldn't----," said Reginald, and suddenly checked
+himself. "Go on."
+
+"When Uncle Rob and I left the house Mrs. Death and her little girl
+were in the square; she had tried to force herself into the house, but
+the policeman kept her back. You know from the papers that her husband
+has not been seen since Friday week."
+
+"Until I read it in this paper an hour ago," said Reginald, pointing
+to the copy of "The Little Busy Bee" that lay on the bed, "I was in
+ignorance of it. I cannot understand his disappearance; it is a
+mystery. The last I saw of him was on the afternoon of that very
+Friday, when I went to see my father in Catchpole Square."
+
+"Yes?" said Dick, eagerly, greatly relieved at this candid confession.
+It was a gleam of comfort.
+
+"My father was not at home, and I came away." He pressed his hand upon
+his eyes, and a long silence ensued. They looked at him anxiously, and
+Florence, her finger at her lips, warned them not to speak. Removing
+his hand, he proceeded: "I ought to tell you now why I went to see my
+father. Had I been well I should have spoken of it before. Even you,
+Florence, have not heard what I am about to say. Dick, I can trust you
+not to speak of this to any one."
+
+"You may trust me thoroughly, Reginald."
+
+"I know, I know. In my dear wife's eyes you are the soul of honour and
+faithfulness, and in my eyes, also, Dick. It is my hope that we shall
+always be firm friends."
+
+With but one thought in his mind, the peace and happiness of the woman
+he loved, Dick answered, "And mine."
+
+"Thank you," said Reginald, gravely. "What I wish to tell you
+commences with my child-life. My mother, when she married my father,
+brought him a small fortune, and she had money, also, in her own
+right. Young as I was, I knew that she was not happy, and that there
+were differences between her and my father, arising partly from his
+endeavours to obtain the sole control of every shilling she possessed.
+There were probably other causes, but they did not come to my
+knowledge. My mother's refusal to comply with his demands was prompted
+by her solicitude for my future. She was the best of women, and never
+uttered one word of reproach against my father; she suffered in
+silence, as only women can, and she found some solace in the love she
+bore for me and in the love I bore for her. We were inseparable, and,
+occupying the home with my father, we lived a life apart from him. He
+had but one aim, the amassing of money, and there was no sympathy
+between us. I hope there are not many homes in which such estrangement
+exists. She died when I was ten, and I lost the one dear friend I had
+in the world. In our last embrace on her deathbed she said to me, in a
+whisper, 'Promise me that when you are a man--a happy man, I fervently
+pray--you will not become a money-lender.' I gave her the promise, and
+an abhorrence of the trade my father practised took deep root in me,
+and has grown stronger every year of my life. Over an open grave there
+should be no bitterness, and though my heart is sore I will strive to
+avoid it. My mother left me her little fortune, and appointed a
+trustee over whom, by ill chance, my father subsequently obtained
+great influence, and in the end had him completely in his power. This
+trustee died when I was twenty-two, and before then my inheritance was
+in my father's hands to deal with as he pleased. My mother's will was
+very precise. A certain sum every year was to be expended upon my
+education until I came of age, when the residue was to be handed to me
+to make a practical start in life. She named the schools and colleges
+in which I was to be educated, and when I was nineteen I was to spend
+the next two years in France and Germany and Italy, to perfect myself
+in the languages of those countries. It was at my option whether I
+remained abroad after I came of age, and, in point of fact, I did,
+returning home a year after the death of my trustee. You will see by
+these provisions that I was cut off entirely from the domestic and
+business life of my father, and I understood and appreciated her
+reasons when I became intimately acquainted with it--as I did when, my
+education completed, I returned to his home in Catchpole Square. I
+lived with him between two and three years, and during that time his
+one endeavour was to induce me to share the business with him, to obey
+his orders, to carry out his directions, to initiate myself into a
+system which I detested, into practices which I abhorred. We had
+numberless discussions and quarrels; he argued, he stormed, he
+threatened, and I steadily resisted him. At length matters came to a
+head, and I finally convinced him that I would not go his way, but
+would carve out a path for myself. 'Upon what kind of foundation will
+you carve out this path?' he asked. 'You will want money to keep
+yourself in idleness till you establish a position, and are able to
+pay for your livelihood.' 'I have it,' I replied. 'Indeed,' he said,
+'I was not aware of it. Have you some secret hoard of wealth which you
+have hidden from me?' 'I have my inheritance,' I said. He laughed in
+my face. 'Your inheritance!' he exclaimed. 'You haven't a shilling.
+Every penny of it, and more, has been spent upon your education and
+riotous living since your beautiful lady mother died.' The sneering
+reference to my dear mother angered me more than his statement that I
+was a beggar, and hot words passed between us, in the midst of which I
+left the room. The next day I returned to the subject, and said I had
+understood from my trustee that when I was twenty-one years of age I
+should come into a fortune of eight thousand pounds. 'He lied,' my
+father said. 'I have the papers and the calculations here in my safe.
+You can look them over if you like. I deal fair by every man, and I
+will deal fair by you, ungrateful as you have proved yourself to be. I
+could refuse to produce the papers for your private inspection, but I
+am honest and generous, and though all is at an end between us unless
+you consent to assist me in my business, I will satisfy you that your
+father is not a rogue. You are indebted to me a large sum of money,
+and I shall be happy to hear how soon you intend to pay it.' I replied
+that I would choose the humblest occupation rather than remain with
+him, and he took from his safe a mass of documents and said I must
+examine them in his presence. I did examine them, but could make
+nothing of them, the figures were so confusing. There were records of
+transactions into which my trustee had entered on my behalf, losses
+upon speculations, of charges for my education, of sums of money which
+had been sent to me from time to time for my personal expenses, of
+interest upon those advances, of interest upon other sums, of the cost
+of my board and lodging during the time I had lived at home with my
+father, of the small sums he had given me during the last two or three
+years, and of interest upon those sums. At the end of these documents
+there was a debit upon the total amount of twelve hundred pounds,
+which my father said I owed him. All this I saw as in a mist, but
+cunning as the figures were, there was no doubt in my mind that I had
+been defrauded, and by the last man in the world who should have
+inflicted this wrong upon me. What could I do but protest? I did
+protest. My father, putting the papers back in his safe, retorted that
+I was reflecting upon his honesty, that I was his enemy and had better
+go to law, and that he renounced me as his son. We had a bitter
+quarrel, which ended in my leaving his house, a beggar, to begin the
+world; and so strong were the feelings I entertained towards him, and
+so sensitive was I to the opprobrium which, in the minds of many
+people, was attached to the name of Boyd, that I determined to
+renounce it, as he had renounced me. Thus it was that you knew me only
+as Mr. Reginald; it caused me many a bitter pang to deceive you, and I
+was oppressed with doubts as to the wisdom of my resolve. All that is
+now at an end, however, and I ask your pardon for the deceit. Perhaps
+you have heard from Florence of the struggle I made to provide a home
+for her, and of my disappointment and despair at not seeing the way to
+its accomplishment. I thought much of the fraud of which I had been
+the victim, and the more I thought the more was I convinced that my
+father was retaining money which rightly belonged to me. At length it
+seemed to me that it was my duty to see him again upon the subject,
+and to make an earnest endeavour to obtain restitution. For my own
+sake, no. Had I not my dear Florence I think I should have left
+England, and have striven in another country to carve my way; but
+having seen her I could not, could not leave her. It was in pursuance
+of this resolution that I went to Catchpole Square last Friday week,
+and saw Abel Death, who informed me that my father was not at home.
+Now you know all."
+
+It was with almost breathless interest that Dick listened to this
+confession, and it was with a feeling of dismay that he heard the last
+words, "Now you know all." Did they know all? Not a word about the
+key, not a word about the second visit to his father late on that
+fatal Friday night!
+
+"Are people speaking about Abel Death?" asked Reginald, turning to
+Dick.
+
+"Yes. They are coupling his disappearance with the murder. A strong
+suspicion is entertained. His poor wife is nearly mad with grief."
+
+"Do you tell me he is suspected of the crime?" cried Reginald, in an
+excited tone.
+
+"Many suspect him."
+
+"What cruelty to defame an innocent man--what cruelty, what cruelty!"
+
+"Do you know for a certainty that he is innocent?" asked Dick.
+
+"That is a strange question, Dick. How can I be certain? Until the
+truth is known, how can any man be certain? I speak from my knowledge
+of his character. A drudge, working from hand to mouth. Alas! what
+misery and injustice this dreadful deed brings in its train!"
+
+"Reginald, dear," said Florence, gently, "you are exhausted. Do not
+talk any more. Rest a little. Dick will remain here, and will come up
+when you want him."
+
+"Yes, I am tired. You are a true friend, Dick. You will assist us, I
+know. Do all you can to avert suspicion from Abel Death. I must rest
+and think. There are so many things to think of--so many things!"
+
+He held out his hand to Dick, and then sank back in his bed and closed
+his eyes. There was nothing more to be said at present, and Dick and
+Aunt Rob stole softly to the room below.
+
+"Now, Dick," she said, "I am going to open my mind to you."
+
+"Do, aunt."
+
+"Has it occurred to you that in this trouble that has fallen upon
+Reginald he needs a man of business to act for him." Dick looked at
+her for an explanation. "A man of business," she repeated, "and a
+devoted friend, rolled into one. I am a practical woman as you know,
+Dick, and we mustn't lose sight of Reginald's interests--because his
+interests are Florence's now, and ours. He stands to-day in a very
+different position from what he did when he married Florence without
+our knowledge. Mr. Boyd's death is very shocking, and it will be a
+long time before we get over it; but after all it's not like losing
+one we loved. He's dead and gone, and the Lord have mercy upon him.
+The longer he lived the more mischief he'd have done, and the more
+poor people he'd have made miserable. It sounds hard, but it's the
+honest truth. I'm looking the thing straight in the face, and I feel
+that something ought to be done without delay."
+
+"What ought to be done, aunt?"
+
+"Well, Reginald is Mr. Boyd's only child, and there's that house in
+Catchpole Square, with any amount of valuable property in it, and no
+one to look after it. It mustn't be left to the mercy of strangers."
+
+"It ought not to be."
+
+"Reginald won't be able to stir out of the house for at least three or
+four days. Now, who's to attend to his interests? You. Who's to search
+for the will, supposing one was made--which with all my heart and soul
+I hope wasn't? You. Even if there is a will, leaving the money away
+from him, he can lay claim to the fortune his mother left him, for
+there isn't a shadow of doubt that he has been robbed of it. There's
+no one else with time on their hands that will act fair by him. You
+must be Reginald's man of business, Dick."
+
+"Some person certainly should represent him," said Dick, thoughtfully,
+"and I shall have no objection if he wishes it. But it must be done
+legally."
+
+"Of course it must. Do you know a solicitor?"
+
+"Not one."
+
+"And I don't, but I think I can put you on the scent of a gentleman
+that will do for us. In High Street, about a dozen doors down on the
+left hand side from here, there's a brass plate with 'Mr. Lamb,
+Solicitor,' on it. Just step round, and ask Mr. Lamb if he'll be kind
+enough to come and see me on very particular business. While you're
+gone I'll say just three words to Reginald; I'll answer for it he'll
+not object."
+
+"You _are_ a practical woman, aunt," said Dick, putting on his hat.
+
+"Have you lived with us all these years without finding it out? Cut
+away, Dick."
+
+Away he went, and soon returned with Mr. Lamb, a very large gentleman
+with a very small practice; and being a gentleman with a very small
+practice he brought with him a capacious blue bag.
+
+"This is professional, Mr. Lamb," said Aunt Rob.
+
+"So I judge, madam, from your message," he answered, taking a seat,
+and pulling the strings of his blue bag with the air of a gentleman
+who could instantly produce any legal document she required.
+
+Aunt Rob then explained matters, and asked what Reginald's position
+was.
+
+"If there is no will, madam, he is heir at law," said Mr. Lamb.
+
+"Until a will is found can he enter into possession of the house?"
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"And being too ill to leave his bed, can he appoint some one to act
+for him?"
+
+"He has an indisputable right to appoint any person he pleases."
+
+"Then please draw up at once a paper to that effect, in as few words
+as possible."
+
+"At once, madam!" exclaimed Mr. Lamb, with a professional objection to
+a course so prompt and straightforward.
+
+"At once," said Aunt Rob, with decision. "This is an unusual case.
+There is the house with no one to take care of it, and here is my
+son-in-law upstairs, unable to leave his bed. If you cannot do what
+you want I must consult----"
+
+"Madam," said Mr. Lamb, hastily, "there is no occasion for you to
+consult another solicitor. I will draw out such an authority as you
+require, and it can be stamped on Monday. Favour me with the name of
+the attorney."
+
+"The attorney?" she said, in a tone of inquiry.
+
+"The gentleman whom Mr. Reginald Boyd appoints to act for him?"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Dick Remington. My nephew."
+
+The solicitor, recognising that Aunt Rob was not a woman to be trifled
+with, even by a solicitor, accepted the situation with a good grace,
+and set to work.
+
+"I have spoken to Reginald, Dick," said Aunt Rob, "and he consented
+gladly. It is to be a matter of business, mind that. We can't have you
+wasting your time for nothing."
+
+In due time the solicitor announced that the document was ready, and
+read it out to them, not quite to Aunt Rob's satisfaction, who shook
+her head at the number of words, and was only reconciled when Dick
+said it was all right.
+
+"It is in proper form and order," said Mr. Lamb, "though shorter than
+it should be."
+
+"The shorter the better," said Aunt Rob.
+
+He smiled sadly. "There is another thing Mr. Reginald Boyd should do,
+madam. He should take out letters of administration."
+
+"Is that a long job?" she asked.
+
+"No, madam, it is very simple, very simple."
+
+"Then let it be done immediately."
+
+"There are certain formalities, madam. With Mr. Reginald Boyd's
+permission we will attend to it on Monday. To this present power of
+attorney the signatures of two witnesses are necessary."
+
+"I'm one, and my nephew's another."
+
+"Your nephew, madam, being an interested party, is not available. Your
+signature will be valid, and there is probably a servant in the
+house."
+
+"Of course there is," said Aunt Rob, resentfully. "The law seems to me
+to be nothing but going round corners and taking wrong turnings
+purposely. Such a fuss and to-do about a signature I never heard."
+
+Mr. Lamb gave her a reproachful look. "It is for the protection of the
+individual, madam. The law is a thing to be thankful for."
+
+"_Is_ it?" she snapped.
+
+"Without law, madam," he said, in feeble protest, "society could not
+exist. We should be in a state of chaos."
+
+The formalities were soon concluded. Reginald signed, Aunt Rob signed,
+and the servant signed, though at the words, "This is your hand and
+seal," she trembled visibly. Then instructions were given for the
+taking out of letters of administration, and Mr. Lamb took his
+departure.
+
+"Your worthy aunt," he said, as Dick opened the street door for him,
+"is a very extraordinary woman. The manner in which she has rushed
+this business through is quite unique, and I am not sure, in the
+strict sense of the term, that it is exactly professional. I can only
+trust it will not be accepted as a precedent."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXI.
+
+                     SCENES IN CATCHPOLE SQUARE.
+
+
+From time to time there had been murders committed in London with
+details dismal and sordid enough to satisfy the most rabid appetites,
+but it was generally admitted that the great Catchpole Square Mystery
+outvied them all in just those elements of attraction which render
+crime so weirdly fascinating to the British public. Men and women in
+North Islington experienced a feeling akin to that which the bestowal
+of an unexpected dignity confers, and when they retired to bed were
+more than ordinarily careful about the fastening of locks and bolts.
+Timid wives woke in the middle of the night, and tremblingly asked
+their husbands whether they did not hear somebody creeping in the
+passages, and many a single woman shivered in her bed. Shopkeepers
+standing behind their counters bristled with it; blue-aproned
+butchers, knife in hand, called out their "Buy, buy, buy!" with a
+brisk and cheery ring; crossing sweepers touched their hats smartly to
+their patrons, and preceding them with the unnecessary broom as they
+swept nothing away, murmured the latest rumour; the lamplighters,
+usually a sad race, lighted the street lamps with unwonted alacrity;
+and the Saturday night beggars took their stands below the kerb in
+hopeful anticipation of a spurt in benevolence. Naturally it formed
+the staple news in the newspapers on Sunday and Monday, and all agreed
+that the excitement it had created was unparallelled in the records of
+the criminal calendar.
+
+"On Saturday evening," said "The Little Busy Bee" in its Monday's
+editions, "numbers of people wended their way to Catchpole Square from
+every part of the metropolis. Up till late the usually quiet streets
+resembled a Saturday night market, and there was an extraordinary
+demand for the literature of crime, with which the vendors of
+second-hand books had provided themselves. Towards midnight the human
+tide slackened, but even during the early hours of the morning there
+were many fresh arrivals. On Sunday the excitement was renewed, and it
+is calculated that seven or eight thousand persons must have visited
+the Square in the course of the day, many of whom seemed to regard the
+occasion as a picnic.
+
+"In our columns will be found picturesque accounts of incidents that
+came under the notice of our reporters, not the least amusing of which
+is that of the mother and father who brought with them a large family
+of children, and had come provided with food for a day's outing. They
+arrived at eleven in the morning, and at eleven at night were still
+there. They had been informed that when a murdered man was lying in
+his own bed unburied on the Day of Rest he was ordered to get up and
+dress himself when the church bells rang, and go to church to pray for
+his sins. If he disobeyed his soul was lost, and his ghost would
+appear on the roof at midnight, surrounded by flames and accompanied
+by the Evil One. 'Did he go to church?' asked our reporter, who, in a
+conversation with the woman late on Sunday night, elicited this
+curious piece of information. 'No,' replied the woman, 'and it's a bad
+day's work for him. I shouldn't like to be in his shoes.' The woman
+furthermore said that she would give anything to see the ghost at
+midnight on the roof, thus evincing small regard for Samuel Boyd's
+salvation. 'It would be a better show, wouldn't it?' she observed,
+with an eye to theatrical effect. 'I've never seen the Devil.' It is
+deplorable that in this age such silly superstitions should obtain
+credence, and that with numbers of people in different parts of the
+country the belief in witchcraft and in demoniacal demonstrations
+should still exist.
+
+"Secondary only in importance to the murder is the disappearance of
+Samuel Boyd's clerk, Abel Death. To suggest anything in the shape of
+complicity would be prejudging the case, but whatever may be the fate
+of Abel Death his poor family are to be commiserated. The theories and
+conjectures respecting the disappearance of this man are perfectly
+bewildering, and many are the excited discussions concerning it. Such
+licence of speech cannot be commended, and we suggest to those persons
+indulging in it the advisability of suspending their judgment.
+
+"A full report of the inquest held this morning appears in our
+columns. In view of the burial of the body of the murdered man, which
+will take place to-morrow, it was deemed necessary to open the inquiry
+to-day, although it was anticipated that little progress would be
+made; but although the Coroner stated that the proceedings would be of
+a formal character, it will be seen that matters were introduced the
+development of which will be followed with the keenest interest. The
+appearance of an eminent barrister for Lord and Lady Wharton, whose
+names have not hitherto been associated with the mystery, aroused
+general curiosity, which was intensified by the conduct of Lady
+Wharton herself. The Court was crowded, and numbers of persons could
+not obtain admittance. Among the audience we noticed several famous
+actors and actresses."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXII.
+
+            "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+This morning, at the Coroner's Court, Bishop Street, Mr. John Kent,
+the Coroner for the district, opened an inquiry into the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square, who was found dead in his house on
+Saturday, the 9th inst., under circumstances which have already been
+reported in the newspapers.
+
+The coroner, addressing the jury, said the initial proceedings would
+be chiefly formal. Their first duty would be to view the body of the
+deceased; after that certain witnesses would be examined who would
+testify to the finding of the body, and others who would give evidence
+of identification. The inquiry would then be adjourned till Wednesday,
+on which day medical and other evidence would be forthcoming. He
+refrained from any comment on the case, and he advised the jury to
+turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and reports which were in
+circulation; it was of the utmost importance that they should keep an
+open mind, and be guided only by the evidence which would be presented
+to them. Much mischief was frequently done by the prejudice aroused by
+injudicious public comment on a case presenting such singular features
+as the present. Comments of this nature were greatly to be deplored;
+they hampered, instead of assisting, the cause of justice.
+
+The jury then proceeded to Catchpole Square to view the body, and upon
+their return to court Mr. Finnis, Q.C., rose and stated that he
+appeared for Lord and Lady Wharton, who had a close and peculiar
+interest in the inquiry.
+
+The Coroner said the inquiry would be conducted in the usual manner,
+without the aid of counsel, whose assistance would be available in
+another court, but not in this, where no accusation was brought
+against any person, and where no person was on his trial.
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Our desire is to render material assistance to you and
+the jury. Lady Wharton----"
+
+The Coroner: "I cannot listen to you, Mr. Finnis."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Lady Wharton has most important, I may say most
+extraordinary evidence to give----"
+
+The Coroner: "Her evidence will be received, but not to-day. Pray be
+seated."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Her ladyship is in attendance."
+
+The Coroner: "She is at liberty to remain; but I repeat, her evidence
+cannot be received to-day. Only formal evidence will be taken to
+enable the body to be buried."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Evidence of identification, I understand?"
+
+The Coroner: "Yes."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Lady Wharton's evidence bears expressly upon this point."
+
+The Coroner: "It must be tendered at the proper time."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "With all respect, Mr. Coroner, I submit that this is the
+proper time."
+
+The Coroner: "I am the judge of that. I ask you not to persist. I
+shall conduct this inquiry in accordance with my duties as Coroner."
+
+The first witness called was Mr. Robert Starr.
+
+"You are a reporter?"
+
+"A special reporter and descriptive writer for 'The Little Busy Bee.'"
+
+"Were you the first person to enter the house in Catchpole Square
+after the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I cannot say. Some person or persons had been there before me, as is
+proved by a broken window at the back of the house through which I
+obtained entrance, but whether after or before the death of Mr. Boyd
+is unknown to me."
+
+"It appears, however, to have been a recent entrance?"
+
+"It appears so."
+
+"You have no knowledge of these persons?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+"Having obtained entrance into the house, what next did you do?"
+
+"I went through a passage, and up a staircase to another passage which
+leads to the street door. In this passage are doors opening into
+various rooms. I looked into these rooms without making any discovery,
+until I came to one which seems to have been used as an office. There
+are two doors in this office, one opening into a small room in which I
+saw nothing to arouse my suspicions, the other opening into a larger
+room which I found was a sleeping apartment."
+
+"Examine this plan of the rooms, and tell us whether it is accurate?"
+
+"Quite accurate, so far as my memory serves."
+
+"The room on the right is the sleeping apartment?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd's bedroom?"
+
+"I do not know. There was a bed in it, and the usual appointments of a
+bedroom. I stepped up to the bed, and saw it was occupied. Examining
+closer, I discovered that the person in it was dead."
+
+"By the person you mean Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I do not. I have never seen Mr. Boyd in his lifetime, and I could not
+therefore identify the body. But from the fact of the house being his,
+and from certain rumours of foul play which had reached me, I assumed
+that it was he."
+
+"You examined the body?"
+
+"Yes, and I observed marks on the throat which favoured the
+presumption that the man had been murdered."
+
+"In his sleep?"
+
+"I cannot vouch for that."
+
+"Were there any signs of a struggle?"
+
+"None. The limbs were composed, and what greatly surprised me was the
+orderly condition of the bedclothes."
+
+"How long did you remain in the house?"
+
+"About two hours."
+
+"During that time were you quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Were there any indications of a robbery having been committed?"
+
+"I observed none. The clothes of the deceased were on a chair, and
+there was no appearance of their having been rifled. There is a safe
+fixed to the wall; it did not seem to have been tampered with."
+
+"Having completed your examination, what next did you do?"
+
+"I left the house, and proceeded to the Bishop Street Police Station
+to give information of my discovery."
+
+"And after that?"
+
+"I went to the office of 'The Little Busy Bee,' and wrote an account
+of what I had seen and done, which, being published, was the first
+information the public received of the murder--if murder it was."
+
+"Had any orders been given to you to take action in this matter?"
+
+"None. I acted entirely on my own initiative."
+
+"What impelled you?"
+
+"Well, there seemed to me to be a mystery which should be unravelled
+in the public interests. I pieced three things together. The
+disappearance of Mr. Boyd's clerk, as reported in our paper, the
+silence of Mr. Boyd respecting that disappearance, upon which, had he
+written or spoken, he could probably have thrown some light, and the
+house in Catchpole Square sealed up, so to speak. These things
+required to be explained, and I set about it."
+
+Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: "Now, Mr. Starr, at what time in the morning----"
+
+The Coroner: "No, no, Mr. Finnis. I instruct the witness not to answer
+any questions you put to him."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Will you, then Mr. Coroner, ask him at what hour in the
+morning he made the discovery? I assure you it is a most important
+point."
+
+The Coroner: "At what hour in the morning did you enter the house?"
+
+"At a little after ten."
+
+"And you left it?"
+
+"At a few minutes before twelve. I went straight to the police
+station, where, no doubt, the time can be verified."
+
+"Have you any other information to give bearing on this inquiry?"
+
+"One thing should be mentioned. In my printed narrative I state that I
+noticed dark stains upon the floor of the office and the bedroom, and
+that I traced these stains to the window at the back. I scraped off a
+portion of the stains, which I gave to my chief, who handed it to an
+analyst. His report is that they are the stains of human blood."
+
+"Were they stains of old standing?"
+
+"No. I scraped them off quite easily."
+
+"Did you observe any blood on the bedclothes?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+The next witness was Constable Simmons, who stated that he and
+Constable Filey were instructed by the day inspector at the Bishop
+Street Police Station to enter the house for the purpose of
+ascertaining whether there was any truth in the information given by
+Mr. Starr.
+
+"At what time were those instructions issued?"
+
+"Somewhere about three o'clock."
+
+"So that three hours elapsed before any action was taken?
+
+"I am under orders, sir."
+
+The witness then gave an account of how he got into the house by means
+of a ladder over the wall at the back, and through the window.
+Corroborating in every particular the evidence of the reporter, he
+went a step farther. In the bedroom of the deceased he found the key
+of the street door, which he opened to admit Constable Filey, who was
+keeping watch in the Square outside. The street door was neither
+chained nor bolted. He did not see any stains of blood on the floor;
+he did not look for them.
+
+Constable Filey, who was next examined, gave evidence to the same
+effect. Neither of these officers was acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd,
+and could not therefore speak as to the identification of the body.
+
+Inspector Robson was then called. His appearance caused some
+excitement, it being understood that his daughter was married to the
+son of the deceased.
+
+"You are an inspector of police?"
+
+"Yes. At present on night duty at the Bishop Street Station."
+
+"You were acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Not personally. I have seen him several times, but have never spoken
+to him."
+
+"You are sufficiently familiar with his features to identify him?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"When did you first hear of his death?"
+
+"On Saturday afternoon, when I was sitting at home with my wife and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington. The boys were calling out news of a
+murder in Catchpole Square, and we went out and bought a paper."
+
+"Before Saturday afternoon had your attention been directed in any way
+to the house in which the deceased resided?"
+
+"Yes. Last Tuesday night a woman was brought into the office who made
+a statement respecting the disappearance of her husband, who had been
+in the service of the deceased."
+
+"What is the name of the woman?"
+
+"Mrs. Abel Death. I advised her to apply to the magistrate on the
+following morning, in order that it might be made public."
+
+"After reading the news in the paper on Saturday afternoon what did
+you do?"
+
+"I went to the Bishop Street Station, and learned that constables had
+been sent to enter the house, for the purpose of ascertaining if the
+statement made by the reporter was correct."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"I went to Catchpole Square, accompanied by Constable Applebee and my
+nephew, Mr. Richard Remington--both of whom were acquainted with the
+deceased--I entered the house and saw the body. I identified it as the
+body of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"Is there any doubt in your mind on the point?"
+
+"Not the slightest. I have seen him scores of times, and his features
+were quite familiar to me."
+
+"You saw the marks on his throat?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you any idea as to the cause of his death?"
+
+"It appeared to me to have been caused by strangulation."
+
+"Now, Inspector Robson, I wish to ask you if you formed any idea as to
+how long he had been dead. You cannot, of course, speak with the
+authority of an expert, but we should like to hear what your
+impression was?"
+
+"My impression was that he had been dead several days."
+
+At this answer considerable commotion was caused by a lady exclaiming
+"Impossible! Impossible!"
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXIII.
+
+                          SCENES IN COURT.
+
+
+The Coroner: "I cannot allow the proceedings to be interrupted by any
+of the spectators, and I must request the person who spoke to preserve
+silence."
+
+The Lady (rising): "My name is Lady Wharton, and I know what I am
+saying. It is not in the nature of things to be silent when so
+monstrous a statement as that is made. I say again, it is impossible."
+
+The Coroner: "The witness has given his impression----"
+
+Lady Wharton: "He cannot be in his right senses, or he must have some
+motive----"
+
+The Coroner: "You are impeaching the witness and delaying the
+proceedings. Unless you resume your seat it will be my duty to have
+you removed----"
+
+Lady Wharton (indignantly): "Have me removed! Is this a court of
+justice?"
+
+The Corner: "I hope so. Kindly resume your seat."
+
+Lady Wharton: "I insist upon being heard."
+
+The Coroner: "You compel me to do what will be disagreeable to you."
+(To a Constable.) "Officer----"
+
+Mr. Finnis, Q.C.: "One moment, I beg." (To Lady Wharton.) "Please
+observe the Coroner's directions. At present you can be heard only
+through me." (Lady Wharton, who was accompanied by her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, resumed her seat in great agitation.)
+
+Mr. Finnis: "It is a point of vital importance, and I ask
+the witness--upon whom neither Lady Wharton nor I cast any
+imputation--whether he positively swears that the body is that of
+Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+The Coroner (to the witness): "Do not reply to any question except
+those put to you by me or the jury."
+
+Mr. Finnis: "You will understand, Mr. Coroner, when Lady Wharton is
+examined, why the statement of the witness appears to her incredible.
+Our desire is to prevent a miscarriage of justice."
+
+The Coroner: "It is the desire of all of us."
+
+A Juror: "There can be no harm in asking the question again. With your
+permission, Mr. Coroner, I will put it. Inspector Robson, do you
+positively swear that the body you saw is that of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "So far as a human being can be positive, I swear
+it."
+
+"And that you formed the idea that he had been dead several days?"
+
+"That is certainly my impression."
+
+The Coroner (after listening to a whispered communication from the
+juror): "It has been suggested to me to ask whether you have any
+personal interest in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+Inspector Robson (with warmth): "I do not understand you."
+
+The Coroner: "We are aware, Inspector Robson, of the high character
+you bear, and of the deserved estimation in which you are held. It is
+probable that in the course of this inquiry questions may be asked
+which may not seem to have any direct bearing upon the investigation,
+but which may eventually lead to issues of more or less importance."
+
+Inspector Robson: "I am giving my evidence as inspector of police."
+
+The Coroner: "Not entirely. You are a witness in this case, and are
+here both as an official and a private citizen. If you have an
+objection to answer the question I will not press it; but I would
+point out to you that your refusal may leave an unfavourable
+impression on the minds of the jury."
+
+Inspector Robson (after a pause): "Will you put the question in more
+direct terms, Mr. Coroner? I would prefer my private affairs not being
+imported into this case, but I should be sorry to lay myself open to
+misconstruction."
+
+The Coroner: "In plainer terms, then, is there any relationship
+between you and the deceased?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "He is my son-in-law's father."
+
+The Coroner: "You were, of course, aware of this when Mrs. Abel Death
+reported the disappearance of her husband?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "No, Mr. Coroner, I was not aware of it."
+
+The Coroner: "Was the marriage between your daughter and Mr. Reginald
+Boyd quite recent?"
+
+Inspector Robson (with evident reluctance): "No, they have been
+married two months."
+
+The Coroner: "There is a strange discrepancy here. How could you have
+been ignorant of the relationship when Mrs. Death came to the Bishop
+Street Police Station?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "At that time I did not know that my daughter was
+married. As what passes in this court will be reported in the
+newspapers, I wish to add that no blame attaches either to her or her
+husband, for whom my wife and myself have the highest regard."
+
+The Juror: "He is the only son of the deceased?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "In point of fact the heir-at-law, unless he is
+dispossessed by will?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "Has any will been found?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Not to my knowledge."
+
+The Juror: "Has search been made for it?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "It is now being made."
+
+The Juror: "By whom?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "By my son-in-law's attorney, Mr. Richard
+Remington."
+
+The Juror: "Your nephew?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Juror (to the Coroner): "Will Mr. Reginald Boyd be called?"
+
+The Coroner: "Not to-day. It appears, from a letter I have here, which
+is accompanied by a doctor's certificate, that he went yesterday to
+his father's house in Catchpole Square to identify the body, that he
+has been very ill, and that the exertion was too much for him. It is
+hoped that on Wednesday, to which day the inquiry will be adjourned,
+he will be well enough to give his evidence."
+
+The Juror: "How long has he been ill?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Since last Saturday week."
+
+The Juror: "The day following that on which Mr. Abel Death
+disappeared?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "Yes."
+
+The Juror: "Can you inform us whether Mr. Reginald Boyd was on good
+terms with his father?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "I do not think it is a question I should be called
+upon to answer."
+
+The Juror: "Very well, Inspector Robson."
+
+The next witness was Mr. Richard Remington, who gave his answers
+generally with rapidity; but occasionally there was a slight hesitancy
+before he replied, as though he were considering the form of words in
+which he should reply. Asked if Inspector Robson was his uncle, he
+answered that he was proud to own it. Asked if he followed any
+occupation, he described himself as a Jack of all trades. "And master
+of none?" queried a juror jocosely. "I won't say that," replied the
+witness, quickly. "There are some things I can do thoroughly."
+
+"You accompanied Inspector Robson when he entered the house of the
+deceased on Saturday?"
+
+"I did."
+
+"You saw the body?"
+
+"Yes. It is the body of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"You were acquainted with him?"
+
+"Intimately. I was in his service nearly three months, and saw him
+daily."
+
+"So that you can speak with confidence on the point?"
+
+"With perfect confidence."
+
+"Can you inform us whether the room in which the body was found was
+Mr. Boyd's regular bedroom?"
+
+"It was. He always slept there."
+
+The Juror: "Is it the only bedroom in the house?"
+
+"No; there is another bedroom on the second floor."
+
+The Juror: "Occupied by any person?"
+
+"By no person during my service with the deceased."
+
+The Juror: "But at some time or other occupied by another person?"
+
+"I believe by Mr. Reginald Boyd when he lived in the house."
+
+The Juror: "Under what circumstances did he leave his father's house?"
+
+"It is hardly a question that should be put to me."
+
+The Juror: "You think it would be better to ask Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"That is for you to decide."
+
+The Coroner: "You were in the house yesterday?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We understand you are searching for a will?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And have found none?"
+
+"None."
+
+The Coroner: "I am now going to put a question to you which I put to
+Inspector Robson. When you saw the body did you receive any impression
+as to the length of time Mr. Boyd had been dead?"
+
+"Yes. He must have been dead four or five days at least."
+
+Lady Wharton: "They are stark staring mad!"
+
+The Coroner: "I assure Lady Wharton that if she persists in these
+interruptions she cannot be allowed to remain in Court."
+
+The evidence of Constable Applebee, who was the next witness, was then
+taken. Catchpole Square is within the radius of his beat, and not a
+week passed without his seeing Mr. Samuel Boyd two or three times. He
+was positive that the body was that of Samuel Boyd, and he would not
+admit the possibility of his being mistaken.
+
+"Did you see any suspicious persons about on the night of the 1st?"
+
+The witness answered "No," and happened to glance in the direction of
+Lady Wharton, upon which another scene occurred. Her ladyship
+exclaimed, "Gracious Powers! I am in a hornet's nest! Does the man
+suspect _me?_" It was with difficulty that she was calmed, and it was
+only upon her giving her promise that she would not speak again that
+an order for her removal was not carried out.
+
+Mr. Finnis: "Her ladyship visited Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of the
+1st upon a matter of business, and the witness probably saw her."
+
+The Coroner: "That is no excuse for these interruptions, Mr. Finnis."
+(To the witness.) "On any subsequent occasion did you see any
+suspicious persons about?"
+
+"Yes, on the night of the great fog something occurred. The fog was so
+thick that I missed my way, and by accident I stumbled upon Constable
+Pond, whose beat joins mine. We were close by Catchpole Square, and we
+went into it. As we were moving away I saw a woman trying to steal
+from the Square into Deadman's Court. I ran and caught the person by
+the arm, but somehow or other she slipped through my hands and
+escaped."
+
+"Did you see her face?"
+
+"No, she was too quick for me."
+
+"At what time did this take place?"
+
+"I can't say exactly, but it was past midnight."
+
+"Is it usual for people to be in the Square so late?"
+
+"Quite unusual."
+
+"That is all you can tell us?"
+
+"That's all, except----" Here the witness hesitated.
+
+"Except what?"
+
+"Well, it has nothing to do with the case, but it come into my mind
+that two nights last week I met Mr. Richard Remington near the
+Square."
+
+"You must have met many persons. What is there special in your meeting
+Mr. Remington?"
+
+"Only that both times it was two or three o'clock in the morning. It
+isn't worth mentioning."
+
+"The smallest incident in connection with a case of this description
+is worth mentioning. Did you have any conversation with him?"
+
+"Oh, yes. The first time we had a long talk together."
+
+"Did he say what brought him out so late!"
+
+"Well, he said he was looking for a lodging."
+
+"What! At two or three in the morning?"
+
+"Yes, that is what he said."
+
+"It sounds like a joke; he can hardly have been serious."
+
+A Juror: "Perhaps Mr. Remington would like to explain."
+
+Mr. Richard Remington (from the body of the Court): "I am quite ready
+to explain."
+
+The Coroner (to Constable Applebee): "We have nothing further to ask
+you."
+
+Mr. Richard Remington was recalled.
+
+"You have heard what the last witness said in reference to yourself?"
+
+"Yes; he spoke the truth. I met him on two occasions last week, in the
+middle of the night, and we had a chat. Of course it is absurd to
+suppose I was looking for lodgings at that time, but I intended to do
+so next morning, and I mentioned it to Constable Applebee, thinking it
+likely he might know of a place to suit me. In point of fact he did
+know, and it was upon his introduction that I took a room next day in
+the house of Constable Pond in Paradise Row. You might like to hear
+why I went in the direction of Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog. Well, I was in the Bishop Street Station at about midnight when
+Mrs. Abel Death reported the disappearance of her husband and asked
+the assistance of the police. As I had been in the employ of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd I took an interest in her story, and, my time being my
+own, I thought I would have a look at the old house."
+
+The Coroner: "Thank you, Mr. Remington."
+
+The last witness called was Mrs. Jewel, a charwoman, whose evidence
+was mainly interesting from the insight it afforded of the singular
+domestic habits of the deceased. She was the only female servant
+employed by Mr. Boyd, and her services were not requisitioned for more
+than two half-days every week. The witness described the deceased as
+the hardest master she ever had. When she swept out a room or made a
+bed he grumbled at the way it was done, and made it an excuse for
+beating her down to the last farthing. She did no cooking for him; he
+took his dinner at some cheap eating house, and prepared his own
+breakfast and tea. "He'd skin a flint," the witness remarked. The
+value of Mrs. Jewel's evidence lay in her intimate familiarity with
+the personal appearance of the deceased. She swore positively to the
+body, and laughed at the idea of her being mistaken. Some amusement
+was caused by her being hard of hearing, and she resented this by
+giving short snappy replies to the questions put to her, and declining
+to be moved by so much as a hair's breadth from any statement she
+made. The last of these questions were put by the juror who had taken
+so prominent a part in the proceedings, and who resisted every effort
+made by the Coroner to abbreviate his inquiries.
+
+The Juror: "You worked for the deceased during the time his son, Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, lived in the house?"
+
+Mrs. Jewel: "Of course I did, and Mr. Reginald's a gentleman."
+
+"Were they on good terms with each other?"
+
+"No," she answered, "old Mr. Boyd was always quarrelling with Mr.
+Reginald. He stormed a lot, but Mr. Reginald was very quiet, and
+hardly answered his father. At last he went away, and I don't blame
+him."
+
+Nothing further was elicited from the witness, and the inquiry was
+adjourned till Wednesday, when, the Coroner said, important evidence
+would be laid before the jury.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIV.
+
+                          GATHERING CLOUDS.
+
+
+"There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming." This was the
+dominant thought in Dick's mind as he emerged from the court.
+Reporters, hurriedly gathering their sheets of notes and sketches,
+were hastening to their respective offices, and persons who had been
+unable to obtain admission were eagerly asking for news of what had
+taken place. The jurymen filed out, with a judicial weight on their
+brows, and the man who had put and prompted so many questions gave
+Dick a searching look as he passed. "I beg your pardon, Mr.
+Remington," said a cheery interviewer, "I belong to 'The Hourly
+Inquirer,' and if you would give me a few minutes----" "No time for
+interviewing--nothing to say," interrupted Dick, and hurried on. Of
+which the interviewer made a quarter of a column. Dick was not in the
+mood to impart information or impressions; he had more serious matters
+to think of. It seemed to him as though sinister forces were at work
+inimical to Florence and Reginald. "I wonder," he thought, "what kind
+of evidence Lady Wharton has to give--she seems terribly in earnest."
+
+Clear of the crowd he felt a light touch upon his arm; looking down he
+saw it was Florence.
+
+"Reginald sent me," she said; "he is very anxious. Is it over?"
+
+"Not by a long way," he replied. "People are staring at us. Let us
+walk on."
+
+"What has been done, Dick?"
+
+"Evidence of identification has been taken, and a lot of stupid and
+unnecessary questions asked. You will read all about it in the papers,
+one part true, and three parts fiction." He spoke with a light air to
+relieve her mind. "Reporters make the most of everything; it is their
+business to lay on colour pretty thickly. There is one rather
+vexatious thing--your visit to Catchpole Square on the night of the
+fog."
+
+"Has my name been mentioned?" asked Florence, in alarm.
+
+"No, but it may be, and we must consider what we ought to do. Don't
+look distressed; a straightforward explanation will set it right. Does
+Uncle Rob know you went there?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Aunt Rob?"
+
+"No. There was no harm in my going----"
+
+"None whatever, dear."
+
+"And none in my not speaking of it. There has been so much else to
+think of."
+
+"Indeed there has, and you have done everything for the best; but in
+this unfortunate matter Uncle Rob is very delicately and peculiarly
+placed; he is not only privately but officially connected with it. You
+see that, don't you?"
+
+"Yes, Dick."
+
+"People are so uncharitable that a false step, though taken quite
+innocently, may lead to trouble. I am afraid you will read many
+unpleasant thing in the papers, and I want you to be prepared for
+them." She gave him a startled look. "You must have courage,
+Florence."
+
+"I will."
+
+"That's right. Now go home and tell them about your visit to Catchpole
+Square, and why you went. I will be there in an hour or so. And don't
+for one moment lose heart. There are some unhappy days before us, but
+before long the clouds will clear, and all will be well."
+
+She left him at the entrance to Deadman's Court, and he gave her a
+bright smile to cheer her; but when she was out of sight he murmured
+again, "There's trouble coming, there's trouble coming." He feared he
+knew not what; every hidden danger seemed to grow, and the dark clouds
+to deepen. How to ward this danger from Florence? This was his aim and
+hope, and to this end he was continually nerving himself.
+
+Up to the present nothing but perplexity and mystery had attended his
+search in the house of the murdered man. There were the bottles of
+wine. On the first occasion he had mechanically counted seventy-six
+bottles, on the second occasion seventy-five, and now there were but
+seventy-four. "Either I am out of my senses," he thought, "or some
+person has been twice in the house since I forced an entrance into
+it." Wildly improbable as was the suggestion he found it impossible to
+reject it. True, he was not the only person who had been there these
+last two days. Scotland Yard was astir, and had sent detectives and
+policemen, to whom free access was granted by Dick. These officials
+made themselves very busy, but for the most part kept a still tongue.
+Plans of the room were drawn, and every inch of the walls and floors
+and staircases was examined. When it was proposed to photograph the
+blood-stained footprints made by Dick, he looked on calmly, and
+assisted in the preparations.
+
+On this Monday afternoon the undertaker's men were waiting for Dick in
+the Square, and they followed him upstairs with the coffin. It had
+been a gruesome task, and he felt as if he could not breathe freely
+till the body was taken to its last resting place.
+
+Then there was the safe, of which he had found the key. During his
+service with Samuel Boyd this safe had been the receptacle of all the
+documents of value and of all the record books belonging to the dead
+man--bank book, bill book, ledger, mortgage deeds, undue bills, etc.;
+he expected to see these articles in the safe, but to his astonishment
+it contained only a few unimportant papers.
+
+At five o'clock the undertaker's men had departed, and Dick with a
+last look around also took his departure. As he pulled the street door
+behind him he heard a familiar cough, and a little hand was slid into
+his. Gracie's hand.
+
+"Oh, I'm so glad to see you, Dick," she said, clinging to him. "I've
+been everywhere to find you."
+
+"Has your father come back?" he asked, in sudden expectation that she
+brought him news of the missing man.
+
+"No such luck. You didn't come to see us yesterday."
+
+"I was too busy, Gracie. Are you any better?"
+
+"Ever so much." Her pallid face and the sunken rims round her large
+black eyes did not confirm the statement. "I can't rest, Dick, I can't
+rest. Is he caught?"
+
+"Who, Gracie?"
+
+"The man that murdered Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"No; and God knows when he will be."
+
+"If God don't catch him," said Gracie, slowly, "and you don't, _I_
+will. You just see if I don't. I've got to, because of what they're
+saying of father. Dick, if I was a man I'd tear 'em to pieces. Poor
+father! It's too bad, ain't it?"
+
+"Altogether too bad."
+
+"There's mother fretting herself to skin and bone. She gets up in the
+night, and goes down to the Mews, and when she thinks nobody sees her
+she cries and cries fit to break her heart; but _I_ see her, and I
+feel like killing somebody!"
+
+Not a trace of emotion in her dark little face; no kindling light in
+her eyes; no tremor in her voice. The passion which agitated her was
+expressed only in the clinging of her fingers to the hand of the
+friend in whom she trusted and believed.
+
+"I dreamt of father last night, Dick," she continued. "He was running
+as hard as he could, and there was a mob of people after him. I kept
+'em back. 'If you dare,' I cried, 'if you dare!' So we got away
+together, and where do you think we got to?"
+
+"Couldn't say for my life, Gracie, dreams are such funny things."
+
+"Yes, they are, ain't they? We got into Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole
+Square, and we went all over it, into every room, creeping up and down
+the stairs, looking for the murderer. 'You didn't do it, father?' I
+said. He swore a big oath that he was innocent, and he cried to me to
+save him and catch the murderer. I'm going to. I promised I would, and
+I'm going to."
+
+"It was only a dream, Gracie."
+
+"It was real. I can hear him now, I can see him now. I've promised to
+catch the murderer, and I'm going to."
+
+They had reached Aunt Rob's house, and Dick stopped.
+
+"I must leave you now, Gracie. My friends live here."
+
+"You won't throw us over, will you? You'll come and see us?"
+
+"Yes, I will come."
+
+She raised her face; he stooped and kissed her and she went away with
+a lighter heart.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXV.
+
+                 LADY WHARTON STARTLES THE COURT.
+
+
+When the jury re-assembled on Wednesday the excitement created by the
+mystery had reached fever heat, and long before the Court was opened a
+crowd of people had gathered round the doors. Numbers of influential
+persons had applied for admission, and as many of these were
+accommodated as the limited space at the disposal of the Coroner would
+permit. The first day's proceedings had whetted curiosity, and many
+members of the aristocracy were present to hear the evidence which
+Lady Wharton was to give, the nature of which had been kept a profound
+secret. The learned professions were adequately represented; the stage
+sent some of its best actors and actresses, and literature some of its
+most famous authors. Never in the history of crime had a gathering so
+notable assembled at the initial inquiry into the circumstances of a
+mystery murder.
+
+The murdered man had been buried the previous day, and a vast
+concourse of people had attended the funeral. Reginald--still very
+weak--and Florence were the chief mourners, and in their carriage were
+Inspector Robson and his wife. There was but one other mourning
+carriage, and this was occupied by Dick and the poor charwoman who had
+been fitfully employed domestically by the deceased. The newspapers
+devoted columns to descriptions of the funeral and to those pictorial
+sketches of personages and incidents which have become almost a craze
+in up-to-date journalism. Standing by the grave, Dick, looking over
+the heads of the people, saw Gracie and her mother and Dr. Vinsen,
+side by side. Mrs. Death was in tears, Gracie wore her accustomed
+impassive expression, and Dr. Vinsen bared his halo to the skies.
+
+"My young friend, my dear young friend," he said, sidling up to Dick,
+"this is the end of a crafty life, but let us extend our pity--ex-tend
+our pi-ty. The grave, like charity, covereth a multitude of sins. We
+will be clement; we will soften our judgment; it is the least we can
+do in the presence of death, in the solemn presence of death. If it
+teaches us a lesson, Mr. Samuel Boyd will not have lived in vain."
+
+"What lesson?" asked Dick, half angrily; the voice, the manner, jarred
+upon him.
+
+"The lesson of humility, of charity--sweet charity--of justice."
+
+"You call the life that ends here," said Dick, pointing to the grave,
+"a crafty life. Where does justice come in?"
+
+"Ah, my young friend," responded Dr. Vinsen, shaking his head
+remonstrantly, "ah, my dear young friend!"
+
+"Meaning--what?" demanded Dick.
+
+"Meaning that you are young, that you have much to learn, much to
+unlearn."
+
+"You speak in enigmas," said Dick. "Good day."
+
+"Not in anger," said Dr. Vinsen, gently, "not in anger, my dear young
+friend, lest the dead rise to reproach you."
+
+"He is better where he is," said Dick, cynically. "I knew him--did
+you?"
+
+"I had not the privilege. In life we never met."
+
+"But you take it very much to heart. Why?"
+
+"My heart is large; it bleeds for all." He laid his hand upon the
+shoulder of Mrs. Death, and repeated, "It bleeds for all."
+
+"More enigmas--more platitudes," said Dick, scornfully.
+
+Dr. Vinsen looked at him with a pitying smile. "I fear I do not find
+favour in your eyes."
+
+"To speak plainly, you do not."
+
+"To speak plainly is commendable. But give a reason for it."
+
+"I cannot. You have a scientist for a friend."
+
+"Dr. Pye? Yes."
+
+"He will tell you that there are certain chemicals that will not mix."
+
+"I do not need to be told. I know it."
+
+"Well, then, Dr. Vinsen, _we_ don't mix; and there's an end of it."
+
+"No, my young friend, not an end of it. The end is there, for him, for
+you, for all. Better for some of us if we were in our graves." There
+was no change in his voice; it was mild, benignant, reproachful.
+"Better, far better, for some of us if we were in our graves. Come,
+Mrs. Death; come, Gracie, my child."
+
+They turned away, but not before Gracie had taken Dick's hand and
+kissed it.
+
+And now, on Wednesday morning, the Coroner took his place, and
+addressed the jury in the following terms:
+
+"Upon the opening of this inquiry I advised you to keep an open mind
+respecting it, and to turn a deaf ear to the strange rumours and
+reports which were in circulation. I feel it necessary to repeat this
+caution. The extraordinary statements which have appeared in the
+public press may or may not have a foundation of fact, but with these
+statements we have nothing to do, and I beg you to dismiss them. You
+are here to give your verdict in accordance with the evidence which
+will be presented to you, and not in accordance with unauthorised and
+unverified rumour. If you do this without fear or favour you will have
+performed your duty. Before medical evidence is taken Inspector Robson
+has requested permission to make a statement, to which, as he is an
+important witness in the case, I see no objection."
+
+Inspector Robson was then called.
+
+The Coroner: "Does the statement you wish to make, Inspector Robson,
+relate to the present inquiry?"
+
+Inspector Robson: "It does, Mr. Coroner, though it has no direct
+bearing upon it. A matter has come to my knowledge since Monday which,
+although it is purely of a private nature, I consider it my duty to
+make public. Constable Applebee, in his evidence on that day,
+mentioned that on the night of the 5th, when he was in Catchpole
+Square, he saw a woman there whom he challenged, and who escaped from
+him. The incident was reported at the Bishop Street Station, and note
+was taken of it. I wish to state that the lady he challenged is my
+daughter."
+
+"You were not aware of the fact when Constable Applebee was under
+examination?"
+
+"I was not. My daughter, hearing on Monday that the incident had been
+mentioned in court, informed me that it was she who had visited
+Catchpole Square on the night in question."
+
+"Is there any special reason why she did not inform you of it before?"
+
+"None. Had the matter been of importance she would have spoken of it
+earlier."
+
+"Perhaps we had better hear from her own lips the reason of her visit.
+Is she in court?"
+
+"She is."
+
+"Let her be called."
+
+Florence came forward. She was sitting between Reginald and her
+mother, who gave her an encouraging smile as she left them.
+
+The Coroner: "You have heard what your father has said. There is no
+obligation upon you to state why you went to Catchpole Square at such
+an hour on such a night; but we are ready to listen to any explanation
+you may desire to make."
+
+Florence: "I will answer any questions you ask."
+
+"Previous to your visit where were you on that night?"
+
+"At my husband's lodgings in Park Street, Islington. He was very ill,
+and I was nursing him."
+
+"Did he send you for his father?"
+
+"No, he was delirious. He spoke of his father several times, and it
+appeared to me to be my duty to make him acquainted with his son's
+dangerous condition. There was no one else to go but myself, and I
+went to Catchpole Square because I considered it right to do so."
+
+The Juror (who had taken so conspicuous a part in Monday's
+proceedings): "When he spoke of his father, what were his precise
+words?"
+
+The Coroner: "I do not think the witness should be asked that
+question."
+
+Florence: "Oh, yes, there is nothing to conceal. He simply said, 'My
+father, my father!' and I gathered from that that he wished to see
+him. It was natural that I should think so."
+
+The Coroner: "Quite natural. You arrived at Catchpole Square, and
+knocked at the door of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, I knocked a good many times, but no one answered me. As I was
+about to leave the square I heard voices, and saw, very dimly, two men
+very close to me. I did not know they were policemen, and one of them
+called out to me to stop, and caught hold of me. I was so frightened
+that I tore myself away, and ran out of the Square as quickly as I
+could."
+
+The Juror: "Did you know at that time that your husband was not on
+good terms with his father?"
+
+The Coroner: "You need not answer that question."
+
+"I wish to answer every question. I did know it, and I knew that there
+was no fault on my husband's part. It was my hope that his illness
+would lead to a reconciliation between them. I thank God that my
+husband is spared to me, but if he had died I should never have
+forgiven myself if I had not made the attempt to bring his father to
+him."
+
+"Thank you, Mrs. Boyd; that is all we have to ask."
+
+A buzz of admiration ran through the court as Florence returned to her
+seat by Reginald's side.
+
+Dr. Talbot Rowbottom, of Harley Street, a member of the Royal College
+of Surgeons and a doctor of medicine, was then called.
+
+"You examined the body of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, on Sunday, at the request of Mr. Reginald Boyd, who wrote me a
+note to that effect. I had read of the discovery of the body in the
+newspapers, and, anticipating an inquest, I called first upon you, as
+coroner of the district, and received your permission to make the
+examination."
+
+"Did the deceased die a natural death?"
+
+"No. He met his death by strangulation."
+
+"You have no doubt upon the subject?"
+
+"Not the slightest."
+
+"He could not have strangled himself?"
+
+"From the condition of the body that is impossible."
+
+"Does your examination of the body warrant you in saying that there
+was resistance on the part of the deceased?"
+
+"Great resistance. There is every indication of a violent struggle
+having taken place."
+
+"So that the orderly state of the bed and bedclothes was unnatural?"
+
+"Most unnatural. After the deed was done singular care must have been
+taken to compose the limbs and arrange the bedclothes."
+
+"Do you consider it likely that, during the struggle, the deceased
+succeeded in getting out of bed?"
+
+"More than likely. I observed upon the body traces of bruises which
+could not have been produced had the deceased remained in bed. There
+was a bruise upon the shin of the right leg, another on the head, and
+another on the right shoulder. These must have been caused by the
+deceased coming into violent contact with heavy pieces of furniture.
+Above the left eye there was an abrasion from a similar cause."
+
+"Was there any wound on the body such as might have been caused by a
+knife or a pistol?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Is the furniture in the bedroom of a sufficiently heavy character to
+cause the wounds and abrasions you spoke of?"
+
+"There is no heavy furniture in the bedroom. My impression is that the
+deceased was first attacked in his sleep, that he awoke, that in the
+course of the struggle he succeeded in getting out of bed, and
+dragged, or was dragged by his assailant or assailants, into the
+adjoining apartment, where the furniture is of a much more substantial
+description."
+
+"Do you consider it likely that the deceased could have called for
+help during the struggle?"
+
+"Not to any appreciable extent. The compression of the windpipe was
+remarkable, and under such compression the capacity of the vocal
+chords must have been considerably weakened. Even had he succeeded in
+releasing himself for a few moments he could not in that brief time
+have regained control of his voice. The exhaustion would have been too
+great."
+
+"Now, Dr. Rowbottom, you examined the body on Sunday, the l0th. Can
+you state with some degree of precision on what approximate date the
+deceased met his death?"
+
+"He must have been dead at least eight days."
+
+"That takes us back to Sunday, the 3rd?"
+
+"Yes. And it is probable that he died the day before, on the
+Saturday."
+
+At these words, which were uttered with decision, there was a
+commotion in the part of the court in which Lady Wharton was sitting,
+but the Coroner looking with some severity in that direction, her
+ladyship, who had risen to her feet, obeyed the injunction of her
+counsel not to speak. She sank back in her seat, and evinced her
+agitation by a vigorous fluttering of her fan. When the excitement
+caused by this interruption had subsided, the Coroner continued.
+
+"The deceased being in his night attire, we may take it that he died
+either on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, or on the night of
+Saturday, the 2nd?"
+
+"Certainly on one of those nights."
+
+"Absolutely certain?"
+
+"Absolutely certain."
+
+Dr. John Webster, of Canonbury Square, and Dr. Lipman, of Wimpole
+Street, who were next examined, corroborated in every respect the
+evidence of Dr. Rowbottom, and agreed with the conclusions at which he
+had arrived. They spoke positively to the fact that the deceased had
+been brutally murdered, and to the presumption that the murder had
+taken place either on the Friday or the Saturday night.
+
+At this stage of the inquiry Mr. Finnis, Q.C., requested the Coroner
+to take Lady Wharton as the next witness. Her ladyship, he said, had
+evidence of an extraordinary nature to give which would throw an
+entirely new light upon the inquiry, and it was most important that
+there should be as little delay as possible in hearing what she had to
+say.
+
+The Coroner: "Before Lady Wharton is examined there is official
+information to lay before the jury. An officer from the detective
+department in Scotland Yard is present, and we will hear him first. He
+has duties elsewhere, and is anxious to be relieved from a longer
+attendance in this court than is absolutely necessary. His evidence
+will open up matter which may have a bearing on the verdict. Call Mr.
+Lambert."
+
+This gentleman, whose name is well known in association with many
+celebrated criminal cases, stepped forward and was sworn.
+
+"You are a detective in official service?"
+
+"I am."
+
+"You have visited the house of the deceased in Catchpole Square?"
+
+"On three occasions. The first on Sunday, the second on Monday, the
+third yesterday."
+
+"Whom did you find in charge there?"
+
+"Mr. Richard Remington, who gave me every facility for a thorough
+examination of the premises."
+
+"Describe what steps you took, and their result."
+
+"I first examined the bedroom and the adjoining office. On the floor
+of both rooms I observed the marks of a man's footsteps, with stains
+of blood which had been trodden upon. In three places the footmarks
+were partially outlined in these stains, and I took photographs of
+them."
+
+"Are these the photographs?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+The Coroner passed the photographs to the jury.
+
+"How do you form the conclusion that they are the footsteps of a man?"
+
+"The boots are those of a man, and the size, No. 8, is an unusual size
+for a woman."
+
+"Were there marks of other footsteps?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Could these footsteps have been made by the deceased?"
+
+"No. The deceased was flat-footed; the man who wore the boots had a
+defined arch in his soles. Here are photographs of the soles of
+deceased's boots; you will see a marked difference in the size and
+shape."
+
+The photographs were produced, and examined by the Coroner and the
+jury.
+
+"After searching the bedroom and the adjoining office you proceeded to
+another part of the premises."
+
+"With your permission I will first finish with these two rooms."
+
+"Very well. Proceed."
+
+"The walls of the office are partially hung with old tapestry, and I
+observed in one place that a hand had clutched it. The finger marks
+are still discernible, and the tapestry has not returned to its
+original folds. This indicates that, during a struggle, one of the men
+had caught hold of it. Upon parts of the wall not covered with
+tapestry are scratches which seem to have been made by finger nails."
+
+"Recent scratches?"
+
+"Made within the last two or three weeks."
+
+"Do you consider it certain that there was a struggle between the
+deceased and his assailant?"
+
+"I am positive there was."
+
+"In that case would there not have been, in addition to the defined
+blood stains of footmarks, smears of blood upon the floor?"
+
+"I was coming to that. There is no doubt that a prolonged struggle
+took place, but the absence of blood-smears, such as would have been
+caused by the naked feet of the deceased, proves that the wound from
+which the blood proceeded could not have been inflicted during the
+struggle."
+
+"Before or after?"
+
+"After. If blood had dropped upon the floor before the struggle it
+would have taken some time to dry, and signs of dragging feet would
+have been observable. Besides, there would have been blood-stains on
+the naked feet of the deceased. There were none. Examining farther I
+discovered a bullet in the wall, which I extracted, and which must
+have been fired within the last two or three weeks. The bore is .320,
+the barrel of the pistol, four inch. The weapon used was probably a
+Colt's ejector revolver."
+
+"Probably, you say. Did you not find the pistol?"
+
+"No. I inquired of Mr. Remington whether he had found one. He had
+not."
+
+"So that you cannot say whether the shot was fired by the deceased or
+his assailant?"
+
+"I cannot say."
+
+"Was that the only bullet you found?"
+
+"The only one. My examination of these two rooms concluded, I turned
+my attention to other parts of the house. On the stairs leading from
+the street door to the bedroom I picked up two pieces of brown paper,
+with small pieces of wax adhering to them."
+
+"Did you examine the back of the premises?"
+
+"Yes. Over the basement rooms, which had not been used for a
+considerable time, was a window which had been broken from without,
+and broken by an unskilled hand."
+
+"How do you arrive at the conclusion that the window was broken from
+without?"
+
+"By the splinters of glass on the floor of the room, and by the broken
+pieces remaining in the panes, the jagged edges of which are a
+verification of my statement."
+
+"We should like to hear your reason for saying that the hand that
+broke the window was unskilled?"
+
+"A regular burglar would have been provided with tools which would
+have enabled him to cut the glass without running the risk of personal
+injury."
+
+"But might not such a man have adopted these rougher means for the
+purpose of averting suspicion?"
+
+"I have never known it done by a skilled burglar. It was through this
+window that the man effected an entrance. Continuing my investigation
+I came to the wall which surrounds the back of the house, and there I
+received confirmation of the theory I had formed. The man had brought
+with him a rope to which a grapnel was attached. This rope he had
+thrown up from the outside until the grapnel caught in the mortar at
+the top of the wall. Then he climbed up; the rest was easy. The marks
+of the grapnel are plainly discernible, and the freshness of the
+loosened mortar proves that but a short time has elapsed since he paid
+his last visit."
+
+"Is it your opinion that there was more than one visit?"
+
+"As to that I have formed no opinion."
+
+"All this must have taken some time?"
+
+"Yes, and was done at night when there were few people about. The
+street on which the dead wall abuts is but little frequented. The
+movements of the policeman on the beat were doubtless carefully
+noted."
+
+"Should you say that robbery was the object of this burglarious
+entrance?"
+
+"It is a fair presumption."
+
+"Did you search the clothes of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes. Mr. Remington had gone through the pockets before I came, and
+had replaced what he found in them."
+
+The Juror who had asked previous questions: "How do you know that?"
+
+"He told me so. The watch and chain had not been taken, and there was
+money in his purse, a AL5 note and some gold and silver, AL9 18s. in
+all. I opened the safe; there were no articles of value in it. If
+there had been any before the death of the deceased they had been
+removed, and the key put back in its original place."
+
+"You found no burglars' tools about?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Nor tools of any kind?"
+
+"No."
+
+"There were desks and drawers in the room adjoining the bedroom. Did
+any of the locks appear to have been forced?"
+
+"No."
+
+"I have no further questions to ask you, Mr. Lambert. Call Lady
+Wharton."
+
+Expectation ran high at this summons. The scenes in Court in which her
+ladyship had played a principal part, and her excited comments upon a
+vital point in the inquiry, had caused her evidence to be looked
+forward to with intense interest.
+
+The Coroner: "We understand that you have a communication of
+importance to make to the jury, and we are now prepared to hear what
+you have to say. You were acquainted with the deceased?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "Whom do you mean by the deceased?"
+
+The Coroner: "You are here to answer questions, Lady Wharton, not to
+ask them."
+
+Lady Wharton: "But I do ask them. I want to know whom you mean by the
+deceased."
+
+The Coroner: "Mr. Samuel Boyd, of course. You were acquainted with
+him?"
+
+"I was very slightly acquainted with him. As a matter of fact I saw
+him only twice in my life. The first time was on the evening of
+Friday, the 1st of March. Lord Wharton had entered into certain
+financial transactions with Mr. Boyd, which did not come to my
+knowledge till a week or two before that date. Some settlement had to
+be made respecting these transactions, and Lord Wharton being ill, I
+undertook the business, having also a little business of my own to do
+with him. So far as I am aware there was no person in the house except
+Mr. Boyd when I called upon him in Catchpole Square. The business
+being of a private nature I entered alone, and ordered my servant to
+wait outside for me in the Square."
+
+"At what hour was this visit paid?"
+
+"At eight o'clock, and I remained with him thirty or forty minutes. I
+had brought with me some bills signed by Lord Wharton and endorsed by
+my brother, Lord Fairfax. In return for these bills I should have
+received bills not then due. It slipped my mind at the time, and I
+wrote to him about them, and about another matter as well. In his
+reply he promised to bring the old bills to our place in Bournemouth
+on Thursday night, the 7th."
+
+"A moment if you please. Do you say that you received a letter from
+the deceased on a date subsequent to Friday, the 1st of March?"
+
+"I say that I received a letter from Mr. Samuel Boyd on the 6th of
+March, and that I saw him on the night of the 7th."
+
+So great was the commotion in the Court at this statement that it was
+two or three minutes before order was restored.
+
+The Coroner: "Do you seriously assert this, Lady Wharton, in the teeth
+of the medical evidence that Mr. Samuel Boyd met his death on the
+night of the 1st or the 2nd of March?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "A fig for the medical evidence! Mr. Samuel Boyd was
+alive last Thursday night, and it is my belief that he is alive at
+this moment!"
+
+The Coroner: "Surely, surely, Lady Wharton----"
+
+Lady Wharton (interrupting excitedly): "And surely, surely, Mr.
+Coroner! Am I to believe the evidence of my senses? I tell you I saw
+the man last Thursday night, and had a conversation with him; and as
+his body has not been found, Mr. Samuel Boyd is alive now, and is
+keeping out of the way, like the thief and scoundrel he is, for the
+purpose of robbing me!"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXVI.
+
+                   THE CONTINUATION OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+These words, spoken loudly and emphatically, acted like a spark upon
+gunpowder, and it was not until the Coroner threatened several times
+to clear the Court that order was again restored. From Lady Wharton
+the attention of the audience was turned to Reginald, whose head was
+bowed in shame. Some pitied him, some condemned him, and all were
+feverishly curious to hear the outcome of Lady Wharton's disclosures.
+The only crumb of comfort Reginald received was expressed in the close
+clasp of Florence's hand. Fearlessly and indignantly the young girl
+faced the eyes that were directed towards her and her husband; her
+cheeks were flushed, her lips parted, as though crying shame upon
+those who seemed to be mutely accusing the man she loved. Dick looked
+contemptuously upon these silent accusers, and Aunt Rob glared at
+them; it was with some difficulty that Uncle Rob prevented her from
+addressing Lady Wharton in terms of indignant reproach. "Keep still,
+mother, keep still," he whispered, "you will only make matters worse."
+So she held her tongue, and nursed her wrath in bitterness of spirit.
+During the course of this drama of human passion and emotion Mr.
+Finnis, Q.C., rose and addressed the Court.
+
+"Lady Wharton," he said, "has suffered a grievous wrong, and however
+strongly she may express herself, it cannot for one moment be doubted
+that she is speaking what she believes to be the truth. An endeavour
+has been made to prove that Mr. Samuel Boyd was murdered on the Friday
+or Saturday night of the week before last. We do not impeach the
+witnesses, we do not say that they have spoken from interested
+motives. What we do say is that they are in error. That Mr. Samuel
+Boyd did not meet his death at the time mentioned is proved by the
+fact that Lady Wharton saw and conversed with him five or six days
+afterwards. Her testimony is supported by that of her brother, Lord
+Fairfax, who is now in Court, and who also saw and conversed with him.
+As you may gather from her evidence we go farther than that; we say
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd has not been murdered. Her ladyship, as you will
+presently learn, has had, unfortunately for herself, some business
+transactions with Mr. Samuel Boyd, and in view of the strange mystery
+which surrounds the case, I have advised her to make these
+transactions public. I ask you now, Mr. Coroner, to permit her to
+relate her story with as little interruption from yourself as
+possible; and I would also ask Lady Wharton to control her feelings,
+and to refrain from strong language. There are persons in Court
+related to Mr. Samuel Boyd, to whom such epithets as she has applied
+to him must be extremely painful."
+
+The Coroner: "The extraordinary turn this inquiry has taken renders it
+imperatively necessary that a full disclosure be made of all that has
+passed between Lady Wharton and Mr. Samuel Boyd. Now, if your ladyship
+pleases."
+
+Lady Wharton: "And kindly do not interrupt me. I have mentioned that I
+paid Mr. Samuel Boyd a visit on the evening of Friday, the 1st of
+March. On that occasion I gave him bills for a considerable amount in
+renewal of bills shortly to fall due, and I foolishly forgot to ask
+him for the return of the old bills. In the course of the interview I
+requested him--(it is perfectly abominable that I should be compelled
+to speak of it, but I suppose it cannot be prevented)--I requested him
+to advance me a thousand pounds for my personal use, quite apart from
+the business between him and Lord Wharton. With some idea of the
+character of the man I was dealing with, I had brought with me as
+security for the loan certain articles of jewellery of great value,
+for which I had no immediate use, and which I handed over to him.
+After inspecting them he consented to advance the money, but said he
+could not let me have it immediately--which, of course, was a trick
+and subterfuge. I told him that I was going out of town, to our place
+in Bournemouth, and he said he would bring the sum to me there on
+Thursday night--last Thursday, you know--in bank notes. With that
+understanding I left him. Two days afterwards it was brought to my
+recollection that Mr. Boyd had not returned the old bills, and I wrote
+to him about them. At the same time I mentioned that I needed a much
+larger sum for my private personal use than we had arranged for, and I
+requested him to bring AL1,500, promising to give him further security
+in the shape of additional jewels, for there is only one way of
+dealing with these Shylocks: they _must_ have their pound of flesh. He
+replied that he would bring the money and the old bills on Thursday
+night. We were giving a ball on that night, and as I did not wish such
+a person to mix with our guests I decided to finish the business with
+him in a retired part of the grounds, and I instructed my servants to
+that effect. He had the assurance not to present himself till one in
+the morning, when a servant brought me his card. I went to the spot I
+had appointed, and there I saw Mr. Samuel Boyd. I asked him if he had
+brought the money; he answered that he had, and he produced a small
+packet, which he declined to part with till I gave him the additional
+jewels I had promised as security. The scoundrel assumed an air of
+saucy independence which completely deceived me. The jewels were in the
+house, and Lord Fairfax happening to be passing at that moment I
+called to him and requested him to remain with Mr. Boyd while I went
+to fetch them. When I returned I gave them to Mr. Boyd, who then
+handed me the packet, saying that it contained the AL1,500 in bank
+notes and the old bills. As I could not count the money in the grounds
+I went to the house again, accompanied by Lord Fairfax, and opening
+the packet, discovered that I had been robbed. There were no bills
+inside, and no money, nothing but blank paper cunningly folded to make
+it feel like bank notes. I hurried back, with the intention of giving
+the thief into custody, but though search was made for him in every
+direction he was not to be found. I want to know what has become of
+him and of my property."
+
+The Coroner: "This is a strange story, Lady Wharton, and is in direct
+conflict with the evidence that has been tendered."
+
+Lady Wharton: "The evidence that has been tendered is in direct
+conflict with the facts of the case. In all my life I have never heard
+such a tissue of misrepresentations and delusions."
+
+"May you not yourself be labouring under a delusion?"
+
+"You had better say at once that I am not in my right senses."
+
+"Pray do not speak so excitedly. May you not have been deceived by an
+accidental likeness to Mr. Samuel Boyd in the person who presented
+himself?"
+
+"It is an absurd suggestion. There is no possibility of my having been
+mistaken. I tell you it was the man himself."
+
+The Coroner: "Did you keep a copy of the letter you wrote to Mr.
+Boyd?"
+
+Lady Wharton: "I am not in the habit of keeping copies of my letters.
+I leave that to tradesmen."
+
+"Have you the letter you received from him?"
+
+"I have brought it with me."
+
+Lady Wharton handed the letter to the Coroner, who read it aloud:
+
+
+"Mr. Samuel Boyd presents his compliments to Lady Wharton, and will
+have the pleasure of waiting upon her ladyship on Thursday night with
+the bills which he forgot to return last Friday evening, and with the
+additional advance her ladyship requires. Mr. Boyd hopes that her
+ladyship will be prepared with the jewels she speaks of, and that they
+will be adequate security for the increase in the loan.
+
+"Catchpole Square, N., 5th March, 1896."
+
+
+Lady Wharton: "And people come here and swear that at the time the man
+wrote that letter he had been dead five days! Can anything be more
+preposterous?"
+
+The Coroner: "We shall have witnesses before us who are familiar with
+Mr. Boyd's handwriting, and this letter will be submitted to them.
+Have you the visiting card Mr. Boyd gave your servant in Bournemouth?"
+
+"Here it is."
+
+"Could you identify the jewels?"
+
+"I can swear to them, if they are fortunately recovered."
+
+"That is all I have to ask you at present, Lady Wharton. If Lord
+Fairfax is present perhaps he will come forward."
+
+Lord Fairfax (advancing from the body of the Court): "No objection."
+
+"You have heard the account given by Lady Wharton of the visit of a
+person last Thursday night who announced himself as Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Quite true."
+
+"You saw that person?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you had any dealings with Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Happy to say, no."
+
+"Then you are not acquainted with him?"
+
+"Not the pleasure."
+
+"Then you cannot say it was Mr. Boyd."
+
+"Take Lady Wharton's word for it. Her ladyship presented him. She
+said, 'Mr. Samuel Boyd, Catchpole Square.' I said, 'Ah.'"
+
+"You conversed with him?"
+
+"He conversed with me. Fifty words to my one."
+
+"What was the subject of the conversation?"
+
+"Money. Asked if I wanted it. I said every fellow wanted it. Said he
+would be happy to oblige. I said, 'Ah.'"
+
+"When Lady Wharton returned did you remain with them?"
+
+"At her request. Saw her give him jewels. Saw him give her packet. Saw
+her dismiss him. Glad to be rid of fellow."
+
+"You went back to the house, and was present when she opened the
+packet?"
+
+"Yes. Blank paper. Infernal scoundrel."
+
+"Was information given to the police?"
+
+"Wanted to. Lady Wharton said no, go to lawyer. Went to Mr. Finnis
+Saturday. Then, surprising report in papers. Man murdered, or supposed
+to be."
+
+"That is all you know, Lord Fairfax?"
+
+"All I know."
+
+The Coroner (to the jury): "Before we call Mr. Reginald Boyd I wish to
+ask Mr. Richard Remington a question or two, arising out of Lady
+Wharton's evidence."
+
+The profound amazement with which Dick had listened to this evidence
+was not reflected in his countenance as he stepped airily forward.
+Never in his life had he so strongly felt the need for dissimulation
+as at the present time. It was forced upon him--by the discoveries he
+had himself made and by the testimony of the witnesses who had been
+examined--that in this mystery another agency was at work the
+existence of which he had hitherto only dimly suspected. The person
+who had presented himself to Lady Wharton as Samuel Boyd and had
+committed the fraud upon her must have been intimately familiar with
+the business operations of the murdered man, and must have had free
+access to the house in Catchpole Square. He must also have a talent
+for disguise to have so imposed upon Lady Wharton. He could think of
+but one person who had the knowledge requisite to carry out the
+deception--Abel Death. But to do what Lady Wharton had described
+needed courage, coolness, skill, and an evenly balanced brain; none
+but a master of resource, and one who had perfect command over
+himself, could have brought to a successful issue a task so difficult.
+Dick could hardly believe that Abel Death was equal to a man[oe]uvre
+so daring, a scheme so full of peril, in which a single false step
+would bring destruction upon him. Dick felt as if every hour added a
+new mystery to those that lay unsolved. He had one cause for deep
+gratitude, and he gladly welcomed it. These disclosures helped to
+dispel the cloud of suspicion that hung over Reginald. Whatever else
+he might have done, he could have had no personal part in the
+duplicity and in the robbery of the jewels. How far this would help to
+clear him in the minds of others who might suspect him had yet to be
+seen. They might argue that he was in league with another man, and
+that the imposition practised upon Lady Wharton was part of a
+cunningly laid scheme, all the details of which had been carefully
+considered and mapped out beforehand. There was, indeed, but little
+light in the cloud that hung over Florence's husband.
+
+This was the state of Dick's mind when he submitted himself for the
+third time to the Coroner.
+
+The Coroner: "Since you were examined on Monday, have you continued
+your search in Mr. Samuel Boyd's house?"
+
+Dick: "Yes, I have carefully searched every room, every cupboard,
+every drawer."
+
+"Have you found any jewels?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Any bills of acceptance?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Nothing of any value?"
+
+"Nothing."
+
+"Look at this visiting card which was presented to Lady Wharton on
+Thursday night in Bournemouth. Do you recognise it as one of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's regular visiting cards?"
+
+"It is exactly like. There are thirty or forty similar cards in a
+drawer in the writing table."
+
+"You are doubtless familiar with Mr. Boyd's handwriting?"
+
+"I was very familiar with it, but that is some time ago. I may err in
+my recollection of it."
+
+"So far as your recollection serves is this letter received by Lady
+Wharton on the 6th of March, and dated the 5th, in his writing?"
+
+"It cannot be his writing because on the 5th of March he was dead."
+
+"Confine yourself strictly to answering the questions put to you.
+Should you say it was in Mr. Samuel Boyd's handwriting?"
+
+Dick examined the letter with great care. He had in his pocket at that
+very moment proof positive in the shape of the incriminating document
+written by Samuel Boyd only a few hours before he was murdered, the
+production of which would have caused Reginald's instant arrest. The
+writing on the letter was like it, and he would have given much to be
+able to compare them. After a long pause he said, "It looks like his
+writing, but I am not an expert in caligraphy."
+
+The Coroner made a gesture as if he had exhausted his questions, and
+Dick was about to step back, when the Juror interposed.
+
+The Juror: "Have you found a pistol of any kind in the house?"
+
+"Now, who is prompting you?" thought Dick, as he confronted the Juror,
+a sallow-faced, pock-marked man, with an aggressive voice. "No," he
+answered aloud, "I found no pistol."
+
+The Juror: "The detective officer who has been examined spoke of a
+recently fired bullet which he extracted from the wall of the office.
+How is it that in your evidence on Monday you said nothing of this
+bullet?"
+
+Dick: "In the first place, because I was not asked. In the second
+place, because on Monday nothing was known about it."
+
+There was a titter in Court at this, and the juror flushed up and was
+silent.
+
+The Coroner: "When was the bullet found?"
+
+Dick: "Yesterday."
+
+"It had escaped your notice before the detective officer pointed it
+out?"
+
+"It was I who first pointed it out. We were examining the wall
+together when I said, 'What is this?' My question led to the discovery
+of the bullet."
+
+The Coroner: "Call Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+A firm pressure of Florence's hand, and Reginald faced the jury. Dick
+moved a little nearer to the young wife, whose heart was throbbing
+violently. Reginald was very pale, and traces of the sickness he had
+passed through were visible in his face, though he bore himself with
+composure.
+
+The Coroner: "You have been ill, and probably would like to be
+seated."
+
+Reginald: "Thank you, Mr. Coroner, I prefer to stand."
+
+"As you please. We understand that you went to your father's house in
+Catchpole Square to see the body of the deceased?"
+
+"Yes, I went there on Sunday."
+
+"You saw the body?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And identified it?"
+
+"Yes. It was my father's body."
+
+"In the teeth of the conflicting evidence that has been given, you are
+positive?"
+
+"I am positive. I wish with all my heart and soul that there was room
+for doubt."
+
+"We recognise that your position is a painful one, and we should, of
+course, wish to hear all the evidence it is in your power to give, but
+I consider it right to say that you are not compelled to answer every
+question put to you."
+
+"There is no question that I shall decline to answer. I am a willing
+witness in a most unhappy tragedy."
+
+"When did you last see your father alive?"
+
+"On Friday the 1st of March."
+
+"Before that day were you in the habit of visiting him regularly?"
+
+"Before that day I had not seen him for two years. I regret to say we
+were not on friendly terms."
+
+The Juror: "What was the cause of the disagreement between you?"
+
+The Coroner: "We cannot have that at this point of the inquiry."
+
+The Juror: "The witness states that there is no question that he will
+decline to answer, and the inquiry will be incomplete unless we arrive
+at all the facts of the case."
+
+Reginald: "I am willing to answer everything."
+
+The Coroner: "We will proceed in something like order. The last time
+you saw your father alive was on Friday the 1st of March. Did the
+interview take place in his house in Catchpole Square?"
+
+"Yes, on that day I paid two visits to the house, the first in the
+afternoon, the second at night."
+
+The Juror: "How did you obtain admittance in the afternoon?"
+
+The Coroner (to the Juror): "I must request you not to make these
+frequent interruptions; they tend to confuse the issue."
+
+The Juror: "With all due respect, sir, it is the jury who have to
+return the verdict"----
+
+The Coroner: "Under my guidance and direction."
+
+The Juror: "Not entirely. We are not simply machines. You can advise
+us, and clear up knotty points, but you cannot dictate to us.
+Otherwise you might as well hold this inquiry without our aid. The
+question I put to the witness is a very simple one."
+
+The Coroner: "Very well." (To Reginald.) "Did you obtain admission
+into your father's house on Friday afternoon in the usual way?"
+
+Reginald: "No. I knocked at the door two or three times, and receiving
+no answer, admitted myself with a private latchkey I had in my
+pocket."
+
+The Juror: "You see, Mr. Coroner, I had an object in asking the
+question."
+
+The Coroner: "How did you become possessed of the latchkey?"
+
+Reginald: "It was one I used when I lived in Catchpole Square with my
+father. When I left the home I took it with me."
+
+"Having let yourself in, what then did you do?"
+
+"I went upstairs to the office in the expectation of seeing my father.
+He was not at home. The only person in the house was his clerk, Abel
+Death."
+
+"You were personally acquainted with Abel Death?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And on friendly terms with him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Why did he not open the street door for you?"
+
+"He had been instructed not to admit anyone during my father's
+absence."
+
+"Not even to go down to the door to see who it was who sought
+entrance?"
+
+"Not even that. He was ordered not to stir out of the office."
+
+"Was your father a very strict man?"
+
+"Very strict."
+
+"Had you a definite object in view when you paid the visit, apart from
+the natural desire to see him?"
+
+"I had. My circumstances were not good, and I went to see if I could
+not improve them. My mother had left me a small fortune, and had
+appointed a trustee to administer it. This trustee had given me to
+understand that when I was of age I should come into possession of
+AL8,000. I spent my youth and early manhood abroad, and when I returned
+home my trustee was dead, and my father had the disposition of my
+inheritance. He wished me to join him in his business, but I had a
+distaste for it, and we had many arguments and discussions on the
+subject."
+
+The Juror: "Quarrels?"
+
+"I suppose they would be considered so. We were equally firm, and the
+consequence of our disagreement was that there was a breach between
+us, which ended in my leaving his house."
+
+"Voluntarily?"
+
+"He sent me away. Before I left he asked me what I intended to live
+upon, and I answered that I had my inheritance. Greatly to my surprise
+he informed me that all the money had been spent upon me during and
+three or four years after my minority. He showed me a statement of
+accounts which I did not understand."
+
+"Interrupting you here, has that statement of accounts been found
+among your father's papers?"
+
+"No statement of accounts has been found. Shall I proceed?"
+
+"If you wish."
+
+"It is hardly my wish, but I certainly desire to anticipate questions
+which might be put to me by the jury."
+
+The Juror: "Quite right. It will save trouble."
+
+Reginald: "I questioned the correctness of these accounts, and my
+father said he was ready to prove their correctness in a court of law.
+Such a course was repugnant to my feelings, and we parted, my resolve
+being to carve out a path for myself. I was not fortunate, and on the
+day I visited my father I was practically penniless. I was then
+married, and I desired to make a home for my wife, which in my then
+circumstances was not possible. It was this which drove me to making
+another appeal to my father to restore money which I believed was
+rightfully mine. On the occasion of my afternoon visit I remained only
+a short time with Mr. Abel Death, and before I left I informed him of
+my intention to come again at night. I paid my second visit at about
+ten o'clock, which I thought was the best time to find my father
+alone. I knocked at the door, and he came down and asked who was
+there. He recognised my voice when I answered him, and he refused to
+admit me. I told him from without that I was determined to see him, if
+not that night, the next day or night, and if not then, that I would
+continue my efforts until I succeeded. Upon that he unlocked and
+unbolted the door, and I entered and followed him upstairs into the
+office, where I explained the motive for my visit. I informed him that
+I was married, and that it was necessary I should provide for my wife.
+We were together half an hour or so, and he refused to assist me, and
+denied that any money was due to me. I offered to accept a small sum,
+and to sign a full quittance, but he turned a deaf ear to all my
+appeals, and at length I left him. Mr. Coroner, I am aware that in
+this disclosure I have touched upon matters which do not come strictly
+within the scope of your inquiry. I have done so because I wish to
+avoid the suspicion of any reluctance on my part to make known to you
+and the jury all my proceedings with respect to my father. Private
+matters have already been introduced which affect me closely, and
+while I dispute the justice of the direction which this inquiry has
+taken I recognise that more mischief may be done by silence than by a
+frank and open confession."
+
+The Coroner: "Your statement is a voluntary one, and much of it is not
+pertinent to the inquiry. You say that you visited your father at
+about ten o'clock?"
+
+"At about that hour."
+
+"You left the house before eleven o'clock?"
+
+"Certainly before that hour."
+
+"Were you and your father quite alone?"
+
+"Quite alone."
+
+"Did any one apply for admission while you were with him?"
+
+"No one."
+
+"There was no other person except yourselves in the house?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge."
+
+"Did your father accompany you to the street door?"
+
+"I do not think he did."
+
+"Cannot you say with certainty?"
+
+"No. I regret that, as regards the last few minutes of the interview,
+I cannot entirely depend upon my memory. I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. I have endeavoured in vain to recall every
+incident and word, and it has occurred to me that the fever from which
+I immediately afterwards suffered, and which kept me to my bed for
+several days, may have been upon me then. I have a recollection--not
+very clear--that as I went downstairs I felt in my pocket for the
+latchkey."
+
+"For what reason? You did not need the key to open the door from
+within?"
+
+"I cannot say why I did it. I can only tell you what is in my mind."
+
+"Have you the latchkey now?"
+
+"No, I have lost it."
+
+"Where?"
+
+"I do not know where."
+
+"Have you searched for it?"
+
+"Yes, without success."
+
+"Between your two visits to your father on that Friday did you come
+into communication with Mr. Abel Death?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Did you not see him in Catchpole Square, or in its vicinity?"
+
+"I repeat that I did not see him, and had no communication with him."
+
+The Juror: "Angry words passed between you and your father?"
+
+"I am afraid so."
+
+"Threatening words?"
+
+"Not on my part."
+
+"On his?" (A momentary pause.) "I do not insist upon a reply."
+
+"Oh, I will reply. My father threatened to bring an action against me
+for a balance of AL1,200, which he said was due to him on the account."
+
+"You disputed the correctness of the account?"
+
+"Certainly I disputed it."
+
+"Did you accuse your father of fraud?"
+
+The Coroner: "Order, order!"
+
+The question was not answered.
+
+The Juror: "Is it true that during these last two years you have been
+living under an assumed name?"
+
+"I have been passing as Mr. Reginald. Reginald is my Christian name."
+
+"Was it as Mr. Reginald you introduced yourself to the family of
+Inspector Robson?"
+
+"I was introduced to them by that name."
+
+"They did not know you were the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"They did not."
+
+"And you did not inform them?"
+
+"Not for some time--not, indeed, till I was married."
+
+"That is quite lately?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you any objection to inform us why you suppressed the name of
+Boyd? Were you ashamed of it?"
+
+"You are pressing me rather hardly."
+
+The Coroner: "I quite agree. Many of these questions are totally
+irrelevant."
+
+The Juror: "Surely, Mr. Coroner, it is of importance that we should be
+made acquainted with the true state of the relations existing between
+Mr. Samuel Boyd and his only child. Putting aside Lady Wharton's
+statements and impressions, and assuming that the medical evidence is
+correct, the witness is the last person who saw the deceased alive."
+
+Reginald: "That is not so. Some person or persons must have seen him
+after I left him on Friday night."
+
+The Juror: "Well, the last person who has given evidence in this
+Court?"
+
+Reginald: "Yes."
+
+"Have you taken out letters of administration?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"As matters stand at present you are the only person who has benefited
+by the death of your father?"
+
+The Coroner: "I will not allow questions of this nature to be put to
+the witness, who has given his evidence very fairly, and has shown
+every disposition to assist the Court."
+
+Reginald: "I should like to explain that I did not know my father had
+not made a will. My impression was that he had made one, disinheriting
+me. Even now, although no will has yet been found, one may be
+forthcoming."
+
+The Juror: "Extremely unlikely. There has been plenty of time for its
+production."
+
+The Coroner: "You have heard the evidence respecting the bullet in the
+wall. Is it within your knowledge that your father kept a pistol by
+him?"
+
+Reginald: "During the time I lived with him he always had a loaded
+pistol. It was a Colt's revolver. I do not know whether, during the
+last two years, he continued to keep it."
+
+"Did your father ever fire the pistol?"
+
+"Never, to my knowledge."
+
+"On what day were you taken ill?"
+
+"On the day following my visit to my father. I recollect feeling giddy
+and light-headed when I returned home that night. I went to bed about
+midnight, and the next morning I was too ill to rise. The
+circumstances of my marriage have been made public in the course of
+this inquiry. I was living alone in Park Street, Islington, and I had
+intervals of consciousness during which I wrote from time to time to
+my wife, who was living with her parents. Eventually she came to nurse
+me, and then the secret of our marriage was at an end. She has related
+how, being alarmed at my condition, she went to Catchpole Square last
+Tuesday night to inform my father, and, if possible, to bring him to
+me. I am deeply, deeply grateful to her for the love and devotion she
+has shown towards me, and to her parents for their kindness and
+consideration."
+
+"Where were you on Thursday night?"
+
+"Ill in bed. For a week, from Saturday to Saturday, I did not leave my
+room."
+
+Reginald's loving look towards Florence, and his tender accents in
+speaking of her, made a strong impression upon the spectators as, his
+examination concluded, he retired to his seat by her side.
+
+The Coroner (to the jury): "An hour ago I received a communication
+from a gentleman who stated that he had evidence of importance to
+tender which he thinks we ought to hear with as little delay as
+possible. This gentleman, I understand, is in waiting outside. It may
+be a convenient time to examine him. Call Dr. Pye."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXVII.
+
+                      DR. PYE MAKES A STATEMENT.
+
+
+There was an interval of almost breathless suspense as, upon the
+Coroner's instructions, an officer left the Court. Dick looked forward
+to the entrance of Dr. Pye with no less curiosity than the other
+spectators, but mingled with this curiosity was an element of alarm.
+Dark forebodings crossed his mind; he feared he knew not what, but
+still he smiled confidently at Florence when she turned imploringly to
+him, for she also was in that state of tension which made every fresh
+feature of the inquiry a terrifying presage. Presently the officer
+returned, followed by Dr. Pye.
+
+The new witness was tall, with a slight stoop in his shoulders, his
+face was ashen grey, his brows knit and concentrated, his eyes
+habitually downcast, but, when raised, irradiated with a keen steady
+light, giving one the impression that the pupils might be of steel,
+which was indeed their colour, his mouth with its thin long lips
+compressed, his hands long and nervous, his voice calm, clear, and
+deliberate, his manner altogether that of a man of supreme moral
+strength and self-possession, who could hold his passions in control,
+and make them subservient to his will.
+
+"In volunteering a communication which may have some relation to your
+inquiry," he said, addressing the Coroner, without bestowing a glance
+upon the spectators, "I am impelled simply by a sense of public duty.
+As to its value you will be the best judge. What I have to offer to
+the Court is merely the narration of an occurrence which came under my
+observation on the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when I was
+making some experiments in chemistry in a room at the back of my house
+in Shore Street, the window in which looks out upon Catchpole Square,
+and commands a front view of the house in which Mr. Samuel Boyd
+resided. It is my habit to work late, and it was not till three in the
+morning that my labours were at an end. At that hour I was standing at
+the window, gazing aimlessly into the solitude of Catchpole Square,
+when my attention was arrested by movements at Mr. Boyd's street door.
+It was gradually opened, and the form of a man emerged from the house.
+The night was dark, and what I saw was necessarily dim and uncertain
+in my sight, but it appeared to me that the man, halting on the
+threshold, lingered in the attitude of a person who wished to escape
+observation. This impression impelled me to a closer scrutiny of the
+man's movements. I have in my room a device of my own construction in
+the shape of a small box containing a coil of magnesium wire. By
+withdrawing the curtain from a glass globe set in this box, and by
+pressing a spring, I can, upon lighting the wire, throw a powerful
+light upon objects at a great distance, remaining myself in darkness.
+There appeared to me to be something so suspicious in the shadowy
+movements of the person at Mr. Boyd's door at such an hour that I
+brought my box to the window, and threw the light upon the Square. It
+was the work of a moment, but in that moment I had a clear view of the
+man's features. They were of deathlike paleness, and seemed to be
+convulsed by fear, but, I argued inly, this might have been caused
+by the fright occasioned by the sudden glare of light falling upon
+him--resembling in some respects a flash of lightning, and calculated
+to startle the strongest man. In his attitude of watchfulness--which I
+may call the first stage of my observation of him--he stood holding
+the street door partially open, thus providing for himself a swift
+retreat into the house in the event of a policeman entering the
+Square. The second stage was his fear-struck appearance, from whatever
+cause it proceeded. The third stage--occurring when the light was
+extinguished--was the shadowy movement of a man gliding out of the
+Square. Then his final disappearance."
+
+The Coroner: "You say, Dr. Pye, that you had a clear view of the man's
+features. Did you recognise them?"
+
+Dr. Pye: "No, sir, the man was a stranger to me."
+
+"There appears to be some kind of connection between the death of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd and the disappearance of a clerk in his employ, Mr. Abel
+Death? Have you any knowledge of this clerk?"
+
+"No, I never saw the man."
+
+"Were you acquainted with Mr. Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"Very slightly."
+
+"If you saw the man again, could you identify him?"
+
+"I think so."
+
+"Have you ever seen any other man in Catchpole Square leaving Mr.
+Boyd's house in the middle of the night?"
+
+"Never. It was the unusualness of the incident that attracted my
+attention."
+
+As he uttered these words he raised his eyes and slowly looked around.
+When they reached the spot where Inspector Robson and his family were
+seated his gaze was arrested. The eyes of all the spectators,
+following his, were now fixed upon the group. A wave of magnetism
+passed through the Court, and, to a more or less degree, affected the
+nerves of every one present. Aunt Rob clutched her husband's sleeve,
+and Florence's eyes dilated with a nameless fear. The long pause was
+broken by Dr. Pye, who murmured, but in a voice loud enough to be
+heard by all,--
+
+"It is a very strange likeness."
+
+"To whom do you refer?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"To that gentleman," replied Dr. Pye, pointing to Reginald. "He bears
+a singular resemblance to the man I saw leaving Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night."
+
+Reginald started to his feet with an indignant protest on his lips,
+and there was great confusion in Court, in the midst of which Dick
+gently pulled Reginald down to his seat. "It is easily disproved," he
+said, in a low tone. "You were home and in bed before midnight. Be
+calm, Florence, there is nothing to fear, nothing to fear." But his
+heart fell; he saw the net closing round those he loved.
+
+The Coroner (to Dr. Pye): "The gentleman you are pointing to is Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's son."
+
+Dr. Pye: "I did not know. I say he resembles the man."
+
+"Are you sure?"
+
+"Who can be sure of anything? In hundreds of my experiments all my
+calculations have been overturned at the last moment. I have been sure
+of success, and the crucial test has given me the lie. It is the same
+in human affairs, and in this case I can do no more than record my
+impressions. In spite of the conditions under which I saw the man his
+likeness to this gentleman is very striking; but I would impress upon
+you that great wrongs have been committed by accidental likenesses,
+and there are cases on record in which men have been condemned to
+death, the proof of their innocence coming too late to save them."
+Florence shuddered and closed her eyes. To her fevered mind her
+beloved husband was on his trial, surrounded by pitiless judges. Dr.
+Pye continued: "There is a notable instance of this in Charles
+Dickens's story, 'A Tale of Two Cities,' where, happily, a life is
+saved instead of being sacrificed. The incident, strangely enough,
+occurs also in a court of justice."
+
+The Coroner: "That is fiction. This is fact."
+
+Dr. Pye: "True. If you have nothing more to ask I shall be glad to
+retire. The atmosphere of this Court is unpleasant to me."
+
+The Coroner intimating that he had no further questions to put, Dr.
+Pye retired, and the inquiry was adjourned till the following day.
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XXXVIII.
+
+            DICK IS OF THE OPINION THAT THE MYSTERY SEEMS
+         IMPENETRABLE, BUT IS STILL DETERMINED TO PIERCE IT.
+
+
+In great agitation Reginald and his party left the Court and turned in
+the direction of home, followed at a short distance by a few persons,
+whose appetite, whetted by what had transpired, thirsted for more.
+Those whose fate seemed to hang upon the result of the inquiry
+exchanged but few words on the way. Dick was plunged in thought, and
+Florence clung more closely to Reginald. Inspector Robson and Aunt Rob
+exchanged disturbed glances; she was wildly indignant, but his
+official experience warned him that Reginald was in peril.
+
+With respect to the evidence given by Dr. Pye the one chance for the
+young man lay in his being able to prove that he had returned to his
+lodgings before twelve o'clock on that fatal Friday night, and did not
+leave them again. This proof would not only clear him of the suspicion
+which naturally attached to him through Dr. Pye's evidence, but would
+clear him in other respects. But was the proof obtainable? Reginald's
+silence on the point rendered it doubtful. Could he have brought it
+forward he would have been eager to speak of it.
+
+When the little party reached the street in which Aunt Rob's house was
+situated Inspector Robson, turning, saw Mr. Lambert, the detective who
+had given evidence about the finding of the bullet. Telling his people
+to go into the house, and saying he would join them presently, he
+crossed over to the detective, and gave him good day, to which the
+inspector responded. Then they stood a moment or two without saying
+anything further.
+
+"On duty?" asked Inspector Robson.
+
+"Partly."
+
+"Anything new stirring?"
+
+"Nothing new."
+
+"I won't beat about the bush," said Inspector Robson, "you have been
+following us."
+
+The detective rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
+
+"Come, come, Lambert," continued Inspector Robson, "you and I have
+been friends this many a year, and friends I hope we'll remain. Be
+frank with me."
+
+"Is it fair to put it that way, Robson?" said the detective. "When
+duty calls does friendship count?"
+
+"Perhaps not, perhaps not," replied Inspector Robson, hurriedly, "but
+you see the close personal interest I have in this unfortunate affair.
+Are you shadowing my son-in-law?"
+
+The detective rubbed his chin again. It was a habit with him when
+there was anything unusually grave in his mind, and Inspector Robson
+understood the meaning it conveyed.
+
+"Now, I ask you, Lambert," he said, "could any man in the world have
+given his evidence more fairly?"
+
+"No man," answered the detective; "but there's the outside of a man,
+and the inside of a man. We've had some experience of that, I think.
+If it's intimated to me to take up a case, I take it up. I won't go
+farther than that, so don't press me. It isn't often that a case so
+full of mystery crops up, and there'll be a lot of credit for the man
+who manages to get to the heart of it. It's something more than bread
+and butter: it's cake, and I don't want another man to get that cake.
+Now, mind you, I don't offer an opinion, but so far as this case has
+gone there are two or three parties to it."
+
+"My son-in-law for one?" asked Inspector Robson, anxiously.
+
+"Yes, your son-in-law for one. I don't say that he's not as innocent
+as the babe unborn, but you've got to convince people. Just you ask a
+hundred men and women, and half of 'em 'll wag their heads at mention
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd's name. The other half 'll wag their heads at
+mention of Mr. Abel Death's name. I'd give a lot to lay hands on that
+chap. He's the second party in the case. That's a queer story Lady
+Wharton told, and of course a true story, only it wasn't the real
+Samuel Boyd she saw. Somebody made up for him. If it wasn't Abel
+Death, it was the third party in the case. What a nerve!" said the
+detective, admiringly. "I couldn't have done it better myself."
+
+"That ought to remove the suspicions against my son-in-law," said
+Inspector Robson. "There are three or four witnesses who can prove he
+never left his bed for a week."
+
+"That's all right, but lawyers will say collusion, conspiracy. We're
+speaking confidentially, you know."
+
+"Yes, and I'm obliged to you, Lambert."
+
+"No need to be. We've been long in the service, you and me--boys
+together, weren't we?--and we can take credit for keeping one thing
+steady before us. Duty. The case, you see, doesn't hang only on what
+took place in Bournemouth last Thursday night; it hangs quite as much
+upon what took place in Catchpole Square the Friday before. A man is
+accountable for his actions, and if there's a mystery that's got to be
+cleared up, as this has got to be, and Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned
+in it--which there's no denying--the law calls upon him to explain his
+actions."
+
+"There's many a man held responsible and accountable for what, in the
+absence of witnesses, he finds it out of his power to explain, and
+which, in the nature of the circumstances, he couldn't reasonably be
+expected to explain. But that doesn't prove him guilty."
+
+"I don't say it does. The hardship to that man is that the law is the
+law, and, in the absence of an explanation that can be proved to be
+true, refuses to be satisfied. 'Guilty or not guilty?' says the law.
+'Not guilty,' says the man. Does the law accept it? No. It proceeds to
+open the case. Robson, you've my best wishes, and I hope you and yours
+will come well through it. Let us leave it there. We've had a
+comfortable chat; let us leave it there."
+
+"Very well," said Inspector Robson, rather stiffly, "we'll leave it
+there. If any charge is brought against my son-in-law he will be ready
+to meet it. I pledge you my word that he'll not run away. Perhaps, if
+any decided step is resolved upon you will give me timely notice, for
+old friendship's sake, in return for my promise that you will meet
+with no obstruction in the performance of your duty. It will help me
+to soften the shock to my dear daughter--our only child, Lambert, the
+sweetest girl!"----
+
+He turned his head, to hide his emotion. Lambert pressed his hand, and
+said,
+
+"You shall be the first to hear of it, Robson. Cheer up. Things mayn't
+be so bad as some people suspect."
+
+Inspector Robson nodded and left him, and rejoined his family in the
+house. Aunt Rob had seen him talking to the detective from the window,
+and had been so successful in instilling courage into Florence and
+Reginald that cheerful faces greeted his entrance; the cloud left his
+own at this unexpectedly bright reception.
+
+"We've been talking about things, father," said Aunt Rob in a brisk
+voice, "and have made up our minds not to mope and mourn because a bit
+of trouble seems to be coming on us. If it passes all the better, but
+if we've got to fight it we'll fight it bravely."
+
+"Bravo, mother," said Uncle Rob, "that's the right spirit to show.
+Here's my hand, Reginald."
+
+"And here's mine," said Aunt Rob, "with my heart in it."
+
+"Thank you both," said Reginald. "I can bear anything rather than that
+you should doubt me."
+
+"No fear of that, my dear. You've behaved like a man, from first to
+last. Never speak ill of the dead, they say, and I'm not going to. He
+was your father, and if his ways were not our ways, we're the better
+for it, and while he lived he was the worse for it. You were right in
+refusing to take up his business, right in trying to carve out an
+honourable career for yourself, right in going to see him that Friday,
+and trying to get the money you were entitled to. Not that you _would_
+have got it--but, there, I won't say anything against one that's gone
+to where I hope he'll be forgiven. You were right in everything,
+Reginald."
+
+"God bless you, mother," said Florence.
+
+"Right even in falling in love with our dear Florence?" said Reginald,
+tenderly.
+
+"Who could help it, bless her sweet face! Give me a kiss, my son, and
+you, too, Florence, and you, too, Dick, and you, too, father. And mind
+you, lad, I'm as glad as glad can be that you gave your evidence as
+you did to-day, and made a clean breast of it. You spoke the truth,
+the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, with love and innocence in
+your heart. Now, father, what did the detective have to say to you?
+Don't be afraid to tell us. Is he keeping an eye upon Reginald?"
+
+"He is, mother; and I said if any charge is brought against him he'll
+be ready to meet it."
+
+"Of course he will, and we'll stand by him, shoulder to shoulder.
+Father, you've been thirty years in the service, and you ought by this
+time to be pretty well used to the ways of witnesses. What is your
+opinion of Dr. Pye as a witness?"
+
+"He gave his evidence in a straightforward manner," replied Uncle Rob,
+guardedly. "What one has to consider in reckoning up a witness is the
+effect he produces upon judge and jury, whether they put faith in what
+he says, or throw doubt upon it."
+
+"Which way would it be with Dr. Pye?"
+
+"They'd believe every word he spoke."
+
+"What do you think, Dick?" asked Aunt Rob.
+
+"I don't trust him," Dick replied.
+
+"Give your reason."
+
+"Can't. Haven't any?"
+
+"Prejudice, then, Dick," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"Perhaps. Call it that. Aunt, have you never seen a man you disliked,
+without being able to account for it?"
+
+"It's happened more than once."
+
+"And you've found him out afterwards to be a bad lot?"
+
+"That has happened, too."
+
+"A kind of instinct, you see," said Dick.
+
+"What gets over me," said Aunt Rob, shaking her head, as though she
+had not made up her mind, "is the way he stood up for Reginald. All he
+seemed to want was fair play."
+
+"Yes, seemed to want," said Dick, doggedly.
+
+"At all events it was honest in him not to be too positive about the
+resemblance to the man he saw. Do you know anyone, Dick, that answers
+to the description and that might be mistaken for Reginald?"
+
+"No one, aunt."
+
+"Not Abel Death?"
+
+"Not a bit like Reginald."
+
+"In the name of all that's mysterious, what is he keeping out of the
+way for? Did you ever know a case in such a tangle?"
+
+"Never. I don't wonder that Lambert is keen upon it. It would make his
+fortune to unravel the tangle."
+
+"I mean to unravel it," said Dick. "Oh, you may shake your head, aunt.
+I've certain ideas I'm not going to speak of just now; you would think
+me mad if I were to tell you what they were. If you keep your mind
+upon a thing it's wonderful how ideas crowd upon you."
+
+"Leading too often to confusion," observed Uncle Rob. "The main thing
+is a starting point."
+
+"I've a dozen," said Dick.
+
+"That's the mischief of it. You put a bloodhound on the track. What's
+the consequence unless he gets a scent? He flounders; he might as well
+be a mongrel for all the use he is. Coming back to the evidence that
+was given in Court to-day, might not the man who presented himself to
+Lady Wharton as your father, Reginald, be the same man Dr. Pye saw,
+who made himself up to resemble you in case any one caught sight of
+him. Such things have been done, you know."
+
+"Look out!" cried Dick, starting forward, and catching Reginald, who
+was swaying forward.
+
+"We'll talk no more of this miserable business to-day," said Aunt Rob,
+in a tone of stern decision. "Take him up to bed, Florence, and keep
+him quiet. If we're not careful he'll be having a relapse."
+
+Reginald, indeed, had overtaxed his strength, and the caution did not
+come too soon.
+
+"I must be off," said Dick, when Florence and Reginald were gone. "If
+I'm not back before nine o'clock you need not expect to see me again
+to-night."
+
+In point of fact he had made up his mind to sleep in Catchpole Square,
+and to keep secret vigil there. But first he must go to Reginald's old
+lodgings in Park Street to speak to the landlady. So much depended
+upon proof being forthcoming that Reginald's account of his movements
+after leaving his father's house was true that Dick could not rest
+until he had questioned her.
+
+When Dick said to his uncle that he had ideas which would be
+considered mad if he revealed them, it was no mere figure of speech.
+So weird and grotesque was one of these ideas that, even in the midst
+of his gloomy forebodings, he could not resist a smile as he pondered
+upon it. "It's a game that two can play at," he muttered, "and my
+short experience on the stage ought to carry me successfully through.
+It may be time wasted, but it's worth the trying. We'll see whether
+that flashlight invention of Dr. Pye will come upon the scene again.
+If it does he'll see something that will astonish his weak nerves."
+
+He brightened up when he presented himself to the landlady, who not
+only welcomed him because he was a favourite with every one, but
+because he might be able to impart something new relating to a mystery
+with which, through the fact of the son of Samuel Boyd being her
+lodger, she was indirectly connected. Mrs. Weevil was one of those
+women to whom a gossip is one of the most enjoyable things in life,
+and she gave Dick good day with glad anticipation in her voice.
+
+"And 'ow's the poor young gentleman, sir," she said, "after 'is day at
+the inkwich? I've been readin' about it in the papers, but wot I say
+is, if it wos the last word I spoke, it ain't no more like 'im than
+chalk is to cheese."
+
+"What is not like him?" inquired Dick.
+
+"''Is pictcher, sir, and yours, too, sir,' I ses to Mrs. Porter, the 'am
+and beef shop across the road, 'It's a shame,' I ses, 'that sech
+things is allowed. If a portrait it is, a portrait it ought to be.
+Actions 'ave been brought for less.' 'Wot you say, Mrs. Weevil, I
+say,' ses Mrs. Porter, 'but we're obliged to put up with it. Them
+newspaper men don't mind wot liberties they take.'"
+
+Dick listened with patience to this and to much more to the same
+effect, and then approached the object of his visit.
+
+"I've come to ask you," he said, "whether you recollect what occurred
+last Friday night week."
+
+"Ah," she said, abstractedly, running her eye along the hem of her
+apron, "there's them as 'as cause to remember; there's them as won't
+forget to their last hour."
+
+"Meaning?" he asked.
+
+"Mr. Abel Death, sir, and Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"His last hour has gone by; he's past remembering."
+
+"A truer word you never spoke, sir, and it's wot we must all come to.
+But Mr. Abel Death ain't past remembering, and wot 'e's got on 'is
+conscience I shouldn't like to 'ave on mine."
+
+"That is one of the things that has yet to be settled," said Dick,
+ambiguously.
+
+"And settled I 'ope it will be, sir, and better sooner than later, for
+Mr. Reginald's sake. You see, sir, I speak of 'im as Mr. Reginald
+because that's the name he went by when he first come to me. 'A
+reference, is usual, sir,' I ses to 'im, 'if so be as you'll egscuse
+me for mentionin' of it.' 'Mrs. Weevil,' he ses, 'I can't give you a
+reference, but I can give you a month in advance.' Wot gentleman could
+say more? A month in advance 'e paid, from first to last, and never a
+word between us when I give 'im the book on Monday mornin'--puncchual,
+because 'e said 'e liked to be. When I 'eard 'e wos Mr. Samuel Boyd's
+son you might 'ave knocked me down with a feather. I ses to Mrs.
+Porter, while she wos spreadin' mustard on a sangwitch for a gent as
+eats six every afternoon of 'is life as the clock strikes three,
+'Well,' I ses to 'er, 'of all the strange things!' 'That's _my_
+opinion, Mrs. Weevil,' she ses."
+
+"Last Friday week," said Dick, taking up the threads of the subject.
+"I wish you to tell me at what hour of the night Mr. Reginald came
+home."
+
+"And you ain't the first as wishes me to tell you. There's been two
+detectives 'ere, and three newspaper men. 'Do you recollec',' they
+ses, 'wot time Friday night young Mr. Boyd come 'ome?' Your own words,
+sir, as if they wos turned out of a mould. 'No, I don't,' I ses to
+them. 'I went to bed at ten, when Mr. Reginald was out. I knocked at
+his door,' I ses, 'to see if 'e wanted anythink, but he didn't answer,
+and I jest peeped in to make sure 'e was out. Which he wos.' 'Oh,' ses
+they, 'did 'e keep 'is door unlocked?' 'Yes, 'e did,' I ses, 'and
+everything else as well. 'E wos always as open as open can be. I wish
+all wos like 'im, but that can't be egspected, because it takes all
+sorts to make a world.' They wanted to go up to 'is rooms, but I ses,
+'No, you don't. I know my duties as a landlady,' I ses, 'and I won't
+'ave no pokin' and pryin' in a gentleman's private apartments.' Would
+you believe it, sir, they orfered me money to let 'em go in, but they
+couldn't wheedle me. I ain't one of that sort."
+
+"Try and remember," urged Dick, earnestly, "whether, after you were in
+bed you didn't hear him come in on Friday night."
+
+"If I tried ever so 'ard, sir, I couldn't recollec' wot I don't
+remember. Why should a gentleman be spied upon when 'e pays 'is rent
+reg'lar? Mr. Reginald 'ad 'is own street door key, and wos free to
+come and go. 'E might 'ave come 'ome any time in the night without me
+knowin' it.
+
+"It is a very important matter," said Dick, greatly disheartened.
+"Perhaps your servant may recollect something."
+
+"I'll ring for 'er, sir, and you can arsk 'er yourself."
+
+In answer to the bell the servant came up, a heavy lumbering girl of
+twenty, in a chronic state of sulks, with whom Dick fared no better
+than he had with her mistress. She did not know what time she went to
+bed, nor what time she got up. Sometimes she awoke in the middle of
+the night, and sometimes she didn't; she generally didn't, and if she
+did she did not know what time it was. She did not recollect when
+Friday night was, she could not think so far back as the week before
+last. All she knew was that it wasn't her night out, and if the
+gentleman kept talking to her all day long how could she get her work
+done? So Dick reluctantly let her go, and took his departure himself,
+no wiser than when he came. 'Reginald's statement that he had returned
+to his lodgings before midnight was of no value in the absence of
+corroborative evidence. Thicker and blacker grew the clouds around
+him.
+
+From Park Street he proceeded to Draper's Mews, and there he met with
+another disappointment. Mrs. Death opened the door for him, and he saw
+a change in her. She was embarrassed, suspicious, sorrowful, angry.
+The old cordiality was gone.
+
+"Is Gracie at home?" he asked, looking around without seeing the
+sallow, wistful face.
+
+"No, she isn't," answered Mrs. Death, in a constrained voice, "and I
+don't know where she is. I haven't had misfortune enough, I suppose,
+that my own child should go against me."
+
+She dashed away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, and Dick
+gazed at her in pity and surprise.
+
+"Go against you, Mrs. Death!" he exclaimed. "No, no. It isn't in
+Gracie's nature."
+
+"It wasn't," she retorted, "till you stepped between us."
+
+"You are labouring under some grievous error," he said, sadly. "I have
+not seen Gracie. I came to ask how she was--as a friend, Mrs. Death,
+as a true friend."
+
+"Oh, yes," she cried, bitterly, "as a true friend! I'm learning the
+meaning of that word. It's time, it's time. Hush children!" For one or
+two, alarmed at their mother's loud voice, began to cry. They were all
+huddled together on the floor, and had looked up eagerly when Dick
+entered. "If you're not quiet I'll give you a beating all round." She
+turned to Dick. "Come into the next room; it isn't right that they
+should hear us. There, children, there, be good."
+
+With compressed lips, and eyes that seemed to be inwardly searching
+for an explanation, Dick accompanied her to the adjoining room. Night
+was coming on, but there was still light enough for them to see each
+other's face.
+
+"Be fair to me, Mrs. Death," he said, in a gentle tone. "Whatever you
+may think of me now, think of me for a moment as I was, and tell me
+first about Gracie."
+
+"There isn't much to tell," she returned; and she, also, seemed to be
+searching inwardly for something she could not understand. "She does
+nothing but talk of you. Dr. Vinsen walked home with us from the
+funeral yesterday, and Gracie wouldn't keep by our side; she walked
+behind. Two or three times he beckoned to her, but she was rebellious.
+'What have you been thinking of, child?' he asked when we got home.
+'I've been thinking of Dick,' she answered. 'Always of Dick, Gracie?'
+he said. 'Yes,' she answered, 'always of Dick.' 'Never of me?' he
+asked, and no one in the world could have spoken more kindly. 'Oh,
+yes,' she said, 'I think of you a lot, but in another way.' 'Now, tell
+me, child,' he said, 'what you think of me?' 'You'd best not ask,' she
+answered, and ran away. When we were alone I asked her what she meant
+by behaving so to our best friend. I will not tell you what her reply
+was; I was shocked and grieved that a child of mine could be so
+ungrateful. She looked out for you yesterday afternoon and evening,
+and this afternoon, too. 'Why doesn't Dick come?' she kept on saying.
+'Where's Dick?' It's three hours now that she went away, and I don't
+know what's become of her. That's all I've got to tell you about
+Gracie, if you didn't know it before. I want my child, I want my
+child! Do you hear, Mr. Remington. I want my child! I have lost my
+husband--am I to lose my Gracie, too?"
+
+"I sincerely hope not," said Dick; "I honestly believe not. She will
+come back presently. But there is something else in your mind against
+me, Mrs. Death."
+
+She stepped close to him, and looked fiercely into his eyes.
+
+"Who killed Mr. Samuel Boyd?" she said, in a hissing whisper. "Tell me
+that."
+
+"I wish to God I could!" he replied.
+
+"I wish to God _I_ could!" she retorted, still speaking in a low,
+fierce whisper, so that the children in the next room should not hear.
+"But though we don't know, we have our suspicions. I know what mine
+are. What are yours? Tell me, if you dare!"
+
+He did not answer her. In the presence of misfortune so undeserved, of
+suffering so keen, how could he breathe a word against her husband?
+
+"No, you do not dare," she continued. "You haven't the courage to say
+to my face that you believe my poor husband to be guilty of the crime;
+but you can say so behind my back, you can go about poisoning people's
+minds against him, and then come to me smiling in pretended
+friendship. Oh, Mr. Remington," she said, with a remorseful sob, and
+her changeful moods showed how her heart was torn, "I would not have
+believed it of you. You make us trust you, you make us love you, and
+then you turn against us. See here!" She pulled up the sleeve of her
+gown, and bared her emaciated arm to his pitying gaze. "As this is, so
+my whole body is, and my soul is on the rack. You have seen us in our
+poverty, you know the state to which we have been driven, you have
+witnessed how we live. Is it the work of an honest man to oppress and
+malign us?"
+
+"It would be the work of a coward," he answered, "if I had done a
+hundredth part of what you bring against me. I have done you no wrong,
+no injustice. I think I know who has instilled these thoughts into
+your mind, but I will not ask you for his name. Doubtless he has laid
+the seal of silence on your lips----"
+
+"He has not," she interrupted. "What he has said to me he would say to
+you if you stood before him."
+
+"I think not," said Dick.
+
+"He would. He has been kind and generous to us; if it had not been for
+him my children would have starved."
+
+"I would have done as much if I could have afforded it," said Dick,
+with set teeth. "Has it not crossed your mind, Mrs. Death, that you
+are being deceived?"
+
+"How, deceived?" she asked, and despite the warmth of her championship
+there was doubt in her face.
+
+"In being led to believe that those who are your friends are your
+enemies?"
+
+"I speak as I find."
+
+"No," said Dick, firmly, "you speak from ideas which have been put
+into your head, heaven knows for what purpose. What that man's motive
+may be----"
+
+"Yes, yes, yes," she interrupted again. "Motive, motive, motive. I've
+heard enough of motive. What is yours, Mr. Remington? Who is more
+deeply interested in the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd, who is more
+directly connected with it, who has more to gain from it, than you and
+your friend. You speak of motive. What motive brings you here?"
+
+"I have told you."
+
+"You have not told me," she said, violently. "You come to seek
+information about my poor husband."
+
+"Yes," he admitted, "partly."
+
+"And," she said, very slowly, "to cast suspicion upon him, if the poor
+dear is alive, and so avert it from yourself and Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+Dick was too startled to reply. No need to ask the source of this
+insidious suggestion.
+
+"If it happened that you found him here," she continued, "would you
+give information to the police? Would you say, 'Go into that house and
+arrest the murderer of Mr. Samuel Boyd?' Oh, I know, I know! But we do
+not fear the truth, and we have a friend who will see that justice is
+done. That is all we want, and I pray that I may live to see the day."
+
+She had worked herself into a white heat of passion, and Dick saw that
+no good would result from prolonging his visit. "May there come a
+happier day for all of us," he said, and passed from her presence.
+
+Night was coming on as he took his way to Catchpole Square, but he did
+not heed the falling shadows nor the soft drizzling rain that now
+began to fall. "This is Dr. Vinsen's work," he thought, "and he does
+not work without a purpose. What motive can he have in fixing
+suspicion upon me and Reginald, what motive in taking so deep an
+interest in Mrs. Death? The mystery seems impenetrable, but I will
+pierce it till light comes. I will, I will, I will!" He did not hear
+pattering feet behind him, and was not conscious that anyone was by
+his side till his hand was clutched.
+
+"Dick!"
+
+"Gracie!" he cried. "I am glad you are here. Your mother is terribly
+anxious about you. Let me take you to her."
+
+"No," she said, panting, "not yet, Dick. I've been looking for you
+everywhere. I've got something to tell you first. Come, come, come!"
+
+She dragged him in the direction he had been taking, towards Catchpole
+Square.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XXXIX.
+
+                      GRACIE MAKES A DISCOVERY.
+
+
+He did not resist. The enterprise to which he was pledged had so
+fastened itself upon his imagination that the least thing appertaining
+to it claimed first place. Except that her breath was short there
+were no symptoms of excitement in Gracie, but Dick was sufficiently
+conversant with her peculiar manner to know that she had something of
+importance to communicate.
+
+"Tell me as we go along," he said.
+
+"No," she answered, "you must see for yourself."
+
+"Don't walk so fast, then. We must not attract attention."
+
+There were only two or three loungers in Catchpole Square. Now that
+Samuel Boyd was buried the general interest in the house had waned,
+and public attention was chiefly devoted to the proceedings in the
+Coroner's Court, in consequence of which there had been intervals
+during this day when the Square was bare of sight-seers. The two or
+three idle persons who were staring aimlessly at the walls as Dick and
+Gracie came near regarded the appearance of the new-comers as an
+agreeable diversion, and gazed at them instead.
+
+"Now, Gracie, what is it?" asked Dick.
+
+She cast a sharp glance at a little iron gate at the side of the next
+house to Samuel Boyd's, and replied, "Not while they're here, Dick.
+Stare them out."
+
+Nothing loth, Dick stared so sternly at the idlers that they became
+nervous, shifted their gaze, to see him still staring at them when
+they looked at him again, made awkward movements, and finally strolled
+away, and left the Square to him and Gracie.
+
+"Let's talk inside the house," she said, with a nod of approval.
+
+"No, Gracie, here. I don't care about taking you in."
+
+"I've been in," she said calmly.
+
+"You've been in!" he exclaimed, hastening to the door. "Is anybody
+inside now? Ah!" with a sudden thought. "Your father!"
+
+"I didn't see a living soul when I was in the place," she said,
+mournfully.
+
+"Who opened the door for you?"
+
+"Nobody. I won't talk in the Square, Dick; people'll be coming and
+interrupting us. I'll show you all about it when we're inside. You'll
+be glad to know."
+
+Recognising the imprudence of running the chance of being overheard,
+he unlocked the door, and they stood in the dark passage.
+
+"Don't be frightened, Gracie. What has happened within these walls is
+eerie enough to send the shivers through one."
+
+"I ain't frightened a bit, Dick."
+
+"Very well, then. Remain here while I go and get a light. The candles
+and matches are upstairs."
+
+"I'll come with you. You do like me a little, don't you, Dick?"
+
+"I like you a good deal. You're the queerest and bravest little girl
+I've ever met."
+
+She nestled close to him. They reached the office, and he fumbled
+about for the matches.
+
+"Where are we, Dick?"
+
+He hesitated a moment, and answered gently, "In the office where your
+father used to work."
+
+"Father?" she sighed. "Dick, what do you see when you are in the
+dark?"
+
+"Darkness."
+
+"I see more than that."
+
+"Do you see anything now?" he asked, still groping for the matches.
+
+"I see father. There he stands. He looks so white and thin, and he's
+holding out his arms to me to save him."
+
+"From what? Ah, here they are at last." He struck a match, and lighted
+a candle.
+
+"I don't know from what, but I'm going to. Now he's gone. No, no! He's
+there, he's there! Father, father!"
+
+She darted forward to the hooded chair in which the wax figure of the
+Chinaman was seated.
+
+"Hold hard, Gracie," said Dick, catching her by the arm. "That's not a
+man; it's a wax figure."
+
+"Let me go, let me go!" It was not a scream, but a fierce whisper that
+issued from her lips. She twisted herself out of Dick's grasp, and ran
+to the chair. She stood awhile before she spoke again, and Dick
+watched her curiously. "Is he dead?"
+
+"Wax images generally are," said Dick, endeavouring to speak lightly.
+
+She gazed earnestly at the dead white face.
+
+"Has he been here long?"
+
+"A pretty long time, I should say."
+
+"Was he here when Mr. Boyd was murdered?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"If he could only speak, Dick!"
+
+"Ah, if he only could!"
+
+She crept to the bedroom door. "Is this the room?"
+
+"Yes. I wouldn't go in, Gracie."
+
+"Why not? He's dead and buried; and if his ghost is there it can't do
+me any harm."
+
+Her black eyes travelled over the walls and ceiling and floor, as
+though in search of a clue to her father's fate. She evinced a
+disposition to linger there, but Dick pulled her back into the office.
+
+"Now, Gracie, how did you get into the house?"
+
+"I'll show you. Come downstairs."
+
+Taking the candle with them they descended to the lower part of the
+premises. There were three small rooms in the basement, in addition to
+the kitchen, all in a state of ruin. He was filled with wonder when
+Gracie informed him that there was a cellar underneath the kitchen,
+for neither he nor the officials who had searched the place knew
+anything of it.
+
+"Pull up the trap door, Dick. There it is, under that old chair."
+
+The wonder still upon him he removed the chair, and, kneeling, lifted
+the trap door, beneath which was a short fixed ladder.
+
+"I'll go first," said Gracie, "then you can give me the candle, and
+come after me." It was done as she directed, and he found himself in a
+dungeon-like room, about ten feet square, without window or door in
+it.
+
+"I got in through that wall, Dick."
+
+It was the wall that divided the two houses. Dick looked and saw no
+means of entrance.
+
+"Can't you see how, Dick?"
+
+"No. You are a spirit."
+
+"Can a spirit do things that we can't?"
+
+"It is what people believe," replied Dick, doubtfully.
+
+"And see things that we can't?"
+
+"So they say."
+
+"If I was a spirit I'd soon find out where poor father is. I ain't a
+spirit, Dick. Look here."
+
+Stepping to a part of the wall which bore traces of crumbling away,
+Gracie pushed a brick into the cellar of the adjoining house; she
+pushed another, and that fell; another, and that fell. A rat scampered
+past, and gave Dick a shock. Gracie laughed. Then she wedged her small
+body through, and stood apart from him, he being in one house, and she
+in another.
+
+"Wait a bit, Gracie," he cried excitedly. "Hold the candle."
+
+There were other loose bricks which yielded to his pressure, and in a
+few moments he had made a hole large enough for a man to creep
+through. Dick and Gracie were now side by side.
+
+"Easy, ain't it, Dick? We'd best put up the bricks, in case of
+accidents."
+
+"You ought to have been a detective," said Dick.
+
+"I shouldn't have made a bad one, I don't think," she answered, with
+unemotional complacency, proceeding to replace the bricks, which she
+did very carefully, even fixing the loose mortar about them. The work
+was done so neatly that nothing but the closest scrutiny would have
+led to the discovery of the unlawful communication between the houses.
+
+"Dick," said Gracie, "Mr. Samuel Boyd was as artful as they make 'em.
+Do you think he went in and out through this hole?"
+
+"He'd have been in a rare mess if he did," replied Dick, brushing the
+dust from his clothes. "The puzzle is what he wanted in an empty
+house. Supposing he did not wish to go back, how did he get out of
+it?"
+
+"This way."
+
+He followed her out of the cellar up a short, narrow flight of rickety
+stairs. At the end of the passage was a door, the lock of which was
+broken. This door opened upon half a dozen stone steps, and at one
+time had probably been used as a kitchen entrance for tradesmen. A
+little rusty gate at the top opened into the Square. Only two of the
+houses had an entrance of a similar description, and Dick inwardly
+railed at his own lack of foresight in overlooking this means of
+getting into Samuel Boyd's residence. Upon further reflection,
+however, he thought it hardly likely that he would have succeeded in
+carrying his investigations to the point which Gracie's shrewdness and
+pertinacity had enabled her to reach.
+
+"It's a good job for me the place is empty," said Gracie. "I had to
+get into Mr. Boyd's house somehow, you know, even if I had to climb
+the wall at the back, the way the murderer and the newspaper man did.
+As I was looking at the houses I saw these steps, and when nobody was
+in the Square I crept down. It was all a job to push the door open,
+but I did, and there I was, without anybody seeing me. Then I tried to
+get into the backyard, but couldn't. I knew there was only a wall
+between me and the next house, and I thought of the way prisoners make
+their escape from prison. They made holes in walls--why couldn't I? I
+found a bit of old iron in the cellar here, and I poked at the bricks
+with it till I came across one that was looser than the others. It
+didn't take me long to push it through, and when I got that out the
+rest was easy. That's the way of it, Dick."
+
+"You were in the dark all the time."
+
+"That didn't matter. I've got cat's eyes."
+
+"You're a clever girl."
+
+"Thank you, Dick. When you say anything like that to me I feel warm
+all over."
+
+"What made you so anxious to get into Mr. Boyd's house? Surely you did
+not expect to find your father there?"
+
+"I don't know what I didn't expect. I thought I might find a bit of
+paper with his writing on it that'd tell me where to look for him. I
+told you about my dream the night before last, and how I promised
+father I'd catch the murderer. I dreamt of him again last night.
+'Don't forget your promise,' he said. 'Look for me in Catchpole
+Square.' 'You ain't dead, are you, father?' I asked. 'No,' he said,
+'look for me in Catchpole Square, and catch the murderer.' It's a
+large order, ain't it, Dick?"
+
+There was nothing humorous in the question; her voice was perfectly
+passionless, but Dick had a clear sense of the absorbing earnestness
+and the pitiful pathos which lay beneath, unexpressed though they were
+in tone or gesture.
+
+"Poor little Gracie!" he said. "The body of a mouse and the heart of a
+lion."
+
+"I _am_ small, ain't I? But I shall grow. Did I do right, Dick, in
+coming to tell you about the hole? Don't say you're mad with me."
+
+"I won't. You did quite right, and I only wish you were a man. You and
+I together would get at the bottom of a mystery that is making many
+innocent people unhappy."
+
+"We'll do it as it is, Dick. It's made mother unhappy--oh, so unhappy!
+The worst of it is"--she paused, and with a grave look added, "Dr.
+Vinsen. What does he mean by speaking against you?"
+
+"Passes my comprehension, Gracie. There's no love lost between us,
+that's clear. It is a case of mutual antipathy. But I don't want to do
+him an injustice. He has been very kind to you."
+
+"Yes," she said. "I wonder why."
+
+"Ah, I wonder."
+
+"I tried to get in at the inquest to-day, but couldn't get near the
+door. Was he there?"
+
+"I did not see him. His friend was."
+
+"His friend?" she queried.
+
+"Dr. Pye, and he made it hot for us."
+
+"What did he say, Dick, what did he say?"
+
+"Too long to tell you now; you'll hear all about it by and by."
+
+"Give me a ha'penny to buy a paper, Dick, will you?"
+
+"Here's a penny. So, Dr. Vinsen speaks against me?"
+
+"Yes, and smiles and pats me when I stick up for you. He ain't angry,
+you know; he speaks as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. 'You'll
+know better, my child,' he says, 'before you are much older, and then
+you'll stick up for me.' He'll have to wait a long time for that.
+Mother's wild with me because I don't like him, but I can't, I can't!
+I feel sometimes as if I could stick a knife in him. I'm sure he'd do
+you a mischief if he could, so just you take care of him, Dick."
+
+"I will; and I dare say I shall be a match for him in the end. We've
+talked enough about him, Gracie, my girl. Now we'll get back to the
+house, and I'll take you to your mother, who is fretting her heart out
+about you."
+
+"I'd sooner go by myself, Dick, and I'll tell her you found me and
+sent me home."
+
+"That will do as well. I know you will not break a promise you give
+me."
+
+"Never, Dick, never! I'd die first!"
+
+They returned to the house the way they came, and she lifted her face
+to his.
+
+"Kiss me, Dick," she said.
+
+He kissed gladness into her, and they parted at Samuel Boyd's street
+door.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XL.
+
+                   THE SPECTRE IN THE FLASH-LIGHT.
+
+
+At ten o'clock on this night, Dr. Pye was employed looking over a
+number of manuscripts, setting some aside and burning others, keeping
+a jealous eye upon the fire as he watched them moulder to ashes. Upon
+the table were a bottle of wine and two glass goblets of ancient
+manufacture and design. There were quaint stems to these goblets, one
+representing a serpent, the other a satyr, whose upraised face seemed
+to be trying to reach the rim. Priceless treasures of the antique.
+That the wine was precious, and that Dr. Pye so considered it, was
+evidenced by the disposition of the bottle, which lay in a basket
+lined with thick blue felt; the glasses were Venetian. These and the
+wine were in harmony with the taste displayed in the gathering
+together the costly and unique collection of articles which adorned
+the room. One might have expected to see such an apartment in an old
+palace, for the beautifying of which centuries of treasure had been
+collected through many generations, but scarcely in a street in
+Islington where wealth was not abundant, and where the residents, for
+the most part, were toilers of the humblest kind. Secluded as was the
+room--its door closed, its one window so closely shuttered that not a
+chink of light could be discerned from without--the hum of crowded
+life from the outer street penetrated it and droned like an exhausted
+bee. Dr. Pye listened, smiled contemptuously, and gazed around upon
+the precious bronzes and ivories, the rare _bric-A -brac_, the
+exquisite enamels, the books with jewelled bindings, which were so
+arranged that their beauties were seen at a glance. Not one of these
+examples was of the new school of art; all belonged to times when form
+and colour were either better understood and valued than now, or
+received from the artist that whole-souled and loving labour which
+in this age of hurry-scurry no artist dreams of bestowing upon his
+work--and thus misses perfection and immortality. In the world of art
+to-day it is the merchant-author who displays his wares and touts for
+patronage.
+
+His task completed, Dr. Pye put into a drawer the papers he had set
+aside, and with extreme care poured out a glass of wine and held it up
+to the light. His anticipated enjoyment of the precious draught was
+heightened by the deep ruby colour which shone through the delicate
+glass, and he gazed long at it, and at its almost living reflection in
+a jewel on his white hand. He drank it slowly, and drank a second and
+a third in the same leisurely manner. Then he rose and went to the
+window, in the closed shutter of which was a small revolving panel. On
+a bracket within reach of his right hand was the box containing the
+flashlight, of which he had spoken in his evidence at the Coroner's
+Court, and within reach of his left was a tap which controlled the
+gas. This tap he turned, and the room was in darkness. Then he turned
+the revolving panel, and through the exposed circle of glass looked
+out upon the night. All was dark in Catchpole Square. Its silence, its
+gloom, the utter absence of movement, were in keeping with the tragedy
+which had made its name a household word.
+
+Lifting the box from the bracket he opened it, and, pressing a spring
+which ignited the magnesium wire, threw a flashlight on the house of
+Samuel Boyd. For one brief moment the walls and windows were
+illuminated, as though lightning had struck them. Then all was
+darkness again.
+
+With thoughtful brows Dr. Pye closed the revolving panel and turned up
+the gas. Placing the box on the table, he took from it a film which he
+laid flat on a square of sensitised paper, and poured a liquid over
+it. Holding it up to the light a photograph of the walls and windows
+of the house he had illuminated appeared. No living face or form was
+visible in the picture, nothing but lifeless stone and wood and glass.
+
+As he was replacing the box on the bracket, the sound of footsteps on
+the stairs caused him to look towards the door, which presently opened
+and admitted Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"According to my promise, my friend," said the visitor; "always
+faithful, always a man of my word." His eyes fell upon the bottle of
+wine, and without invitation he filled a glass, and was about to drink
+when he paused, as if a sudden suspicion had crossed his mind. Dr. Pye
+smiled, and refilling his own glass, drank, his example being followed
+by Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"A rare wine," he said, smacking his lips, "but too
+seductive----altogether too seductive. Am I mistaken in supposing that
+you have been testing the flashlight?"
+
+"You are not mistaken," said Dr. Pye.
+
+"Without result, of course?"
+
+"Without result."
+
+Dr. Vinsen stepped to the shuttered window, and Dr. Pye, lowering the
+gas almost to the vanishing point, turned the revolving panel, and
+peered through the exposed glass at the windows of the house opposite.
+
+"Look!" he whispered, clutching his visitor's arm. "What do you see?"
+
+"Nothing but a mass of shadows," replied Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"Look again--closer, closer!"
+
+"I see nothing," said Dr. Vinsen, testily. "What do you see?"
+
+Dr. Pye did not answer, but bringing forward the small box, opened it,
+and sent a flashlight straight into the opposite window.
+
+"God in heaven!" he cried, falling back affrighted.
+
+In that brief moment of light he had seen at the window the face and
+form of Samuel Boyd!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLI.
+
+              HOW A MURDERER MIGHT HAVE BEEN DISCOVERED.
+
+
+Dr. Vinsen vainly seeking in the darkness for the cause of Dr. Pye's
+alarm, could not utter a word. In his listening attitude, with the
+white fear depicted on his countenance, he presented a terror-struck
+appearance, and seemed to be waiting for advancing footsteps, or for
+the sound of voices in the street without, demanding admittance. But
+the silence was not broken.
+
+"Can't you speak?" he then said in a whisper to his companion. "What
+is it? Is there anybody in the Square? Turn up the light."
+
+His hand was groping for the tap that controlled the gas when Dr. Pye
+seized his arm and held him back. Dr. Vinsen winced and impatiently
+endeavoured to free himself, but the fingers that had fastened
+themselves upon his muscles were more like rods of steel than flesh
+and bone.
+
+"Let go!" he muttered. "You are crushing my arm."
+
+"Do not stir," replied Dr. Pye, releasing him. Then he masked the
+shutter, and brought light into the room.
+
+It was characteristic of this man that, short as had been the interval
+between his startled exclamation and the lighting up of the apartment,
+he had regained his self-control, and that on his features no trace of
+his recent agitation was visible. There are moments of unexpected
+surprise when the fixed habits of a carefully trained life slip their
+hold, and the mind becomes as unquestioningly receptive as that of a
+child. Such a moment had come to Dr. Pye when he beheld the vision of
+the man the mystery of whose death was on every tongue. It held him
+only for the moment; before the passing of another his dominant will
+had reasserted itself, and his face resumed his impenetrable calm.
+
+"Now, what is it?" again demanded Dr. Vinsen. His eyes travelled round
+the room, and colour came into his cheeks when he saw they were alone.
+
+"You did not see it?" replied Dr. Pye.
+
+"See what?"
+
+"The figure of Samuel Boyd standing at his window?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen stared incredulously at his host, and then a long deep
+breath of relief escaped him. "Only that!" he exclaimed. "I thought it
+was something worse."
+
+Dr. Pye repeated his question. "You did not see it?"
+
+"I saw nothing. The dead do not rise from their graves. Dead once,
+dead for ever. But you can convince me by producing ocular proof. Your
+ingenious device takes an instantaneous picture of any object upon
+which it flashes its light. Produce me the picture of the dead and
+buried Samuel Boyd."
+
+"I cannot. The last film has been used, and I omitted to put in
+others."
+
+"Very unfortunate," said Dr. Vinsen, dryly. "Suppose you supply the
+omission, and try again."
+
+Dr. Pye acted upon the suggestion. He placed an automatic arrangement
+of films in the little machine, again turned down the gas, again
+opened the circular lid in the shutter, again threw the flash light
+upon the house of Samuel Boyd. The blank walls and windows confronted
+them, and no sign of life, physical or spiritual, was visible; and
+when the film was removed and developed it showed no face of man or
+spirit.
+
+"I did not expect a result," said Dr. Pye; "there was no form at the
+window."
+
+"You saw none on the first occasion."
+
+"As clearly as I behold you now I saw the shadow, spirit, or
+reflection of Samuel Boyd. I was not under the spell of a delusion; my
+senses did not deceive me. My pulse beats steadily; there is no fever
+in my blood. I saw it."
+
+"And I refuse to believe it. My friend, you do nothing without design,
+and if I doubt your protestation I but follow the excellent example
+you set me. I have no faith in _diablerie_, nor am I a child to be
+influenced by a goblin tale. Who thinks me so, mistakes my
+character--mis-takes my cha-rac-ter; and that might lead to more
+serious mistakes."
+
+There was no indication that Dr. Pye paid heed to these words, or that
+they produced any impression upon him; he seemed to be absorbed in a
+train of thought which he was endeavouring to follow to a logical end.
+
+"I recall a singular case," he said, musingly, "of a man who was
+brutally murdered in his own apartments while he was engaged in making
+experiments in photography. It occurred in a foreign country, and the
+police, investigating the case, had their suspicions directed to a
+person who had had dealings with the murdered man, and who had been
+seen entering his apartments within an hour or two of the murder. They
+followed up the clue, and arrested the suspected man, who
+energetically proclaimed his innocence. The evidence at the trial was
+entirely circumstantial, but it was considered conclusive, and the man
+went to the scaffold, protesting his innocence with his dying breath.
+Some years afterwards business of a private nature brought me into
+contact with a man who had but a short time to live, and on his
+deathbed he confessed to me that he was the murderer. In proof of this
+he had, by a strange fatuity, carried about with him during all these
+years a certain piece of evidence which, had it been presented to a
+jury, would have been fatal to him. The circumstances were these: On
+the day of the murder he had entered the apartment of his victim at
+the moment that a prepared plate had been placed in the camera. A
+quarrel took place between them, which culminated in the murderer
+suddenly plunging a knife into the heart of the student photographer.
+Death was instantaneous, and as he fell to the ground his eyes were
+fixed upon the face of his murderer. There he lay upon the ground,
+dead, his eyes wide open. The murderer was himself a photographer, and
+a whimsical fancy seized him to take a picture of those staring eyes,
+in which a wild horror dwelt. He acted upon it. Focussing the dead
+face he exposed the plate, and, the picture taken, stole away from the
+house with the negative in his possession. He subsequently developed
+the picture and enlarged it, and there, under the lens of a powerful
+microscope, was the portrait of the murderer upon the pupils of the
+dead man's eyes. It had been his last living vision, which had fixed
+itself upon the retina. I have the picture by me now, and since that
+day have been much interested in the photographic art, in which I have
+made some curious experiments. Later researches have proved that we
+can photograph what is invisible to the eye, what is even concealed in
+a box. The photographs of shadows and the spirits of the dead can be
+taken. The image of Samuel Boyd being in my mind, found its reflection
+in a window in a moment of light. Why should we not be able to
+photograph a vision created by the imagination?"
+
+"Or," said Dr. Vinsen, with a touch of sarcasm, "the thoughts of men."
+
+"Or," said Dr. Pye, with an assenting nod, "the thoughts of men. It
+will be done; and when it is accomplished it will open the road to
+greater discoveries."
+
+"Ah," said Dr. Vinsen, shrugging his shoulders, "great
+discoveries--_your_ great discoveries, ending in visions."
+
+"To you, visions; to me, reality. The age of miracles is not yet past.
+It is my intention to get out of this country, and return to Italy,
+where there is light, where the sun shines. This atmosphere, these
+leaden skies, these black nights, are fatal. I must release myself. My
+purpose is fixed."
+
+"And mine."
+
+Both spoke in a tone of decision, and both had a motive-spring which
+had yet to be revealed.
+
+"Let us come back to earth," said Dr. Vinsen, "and above all,
+let us be practical. There are accounts between us which must be
+settled--pray do not forget that."
+
+"I will not."
+
+"You were at the inquest to-day," said Dr. Vinsen, rather uneasily,
+for there was a menace in Dr. Pye's tone. "The papers report you
+fully. Your warning to the jury not to be led away by a resemblance
+that might be accidental was a masterstroke. It produced a good
+effect, but will it assist Mr. Reginald Boyd? We shall see--we shall
+see. Justice is slow. Were you to formulate a code you would make it
+swifter, surer--eh, my friend?"
+
+"I would make it swift as sudden death to all who stood in my path,"
+said Dr. Pye, and now there was a cold glitter in his eyes as he
+looked at his visitor.
+
+"No doubt, no doubt, and no feeling of mercy would restrain you; but
+we cannot break through the meshes. Sentinels stand at every corner,
+and slow as justice is in these mean streets, of which you have so
+poor an opinion, its eyes are never closed. It is fortunate for some
+that it can occasionally be hoodwinked by a master mind, to which"
+(here he bent his head, half in mockery, half in sincerity) "I pay
+tribute. That poor woman, Mrs. Abel Death, has had no news of her
+husband--singular, is it not? Her strange little child Gracie, I
+regret to say, views me with disfavour. It is some compensation that
+her mother regards us as her benefactors; and in some respects we
+deserve to be so regarded. The expenditure of money in that quarter
+has not been entirely thrown away--not en-tire-ly thrown a-way. It has
+assisted me to direct public opinion, and to keep watch upon my friend
+Remington, whom I would like to plunge to the bottom of the Red Sea,
+to rot with the bones of the Egyptians."
+
+That a man so mild in voice and so bland in manner should break into
+sudden malignity was surprising.
+
+"He is better where he is," said Dr. Pye; "his living presence is
+necessary. People shoot wild when there is no target to aim at, and a
+chance shot might hit the mark."
+
+"Always profound," said Dr. Vinsen, admiringly, "always, always
+profound. A target--yes, a target. It is a thousand pities, my dear
+friend, that you are not in all things more practical and less
+imaginative. Take, for instance, these gewgaws by which you are
+surrounded, these flasks and vases, these jewelled trifles, this
+curiously wrought work from some Eastern country--of what avail are
+they for the true pleasures of life?" Dr. Pye was silent. "You may
+say, perhaps, they feed the artistic sense. As I believe only in what
+I see, so do I believe only in what I feel. Better to feed the
+material senses--far more rational. If what you have presented to my
+view in your character is genuine, and not the outcome of a deliberate
+intention to deceive--in-ten-tion to de-ceive--it is composed of
+singularly contradictory qualities. In a certain sense, unique, for
+who would expect to find Alnaschar dreams floating among the fleshpots
+of Egypt? Your taste in wine is not to be excelled--I approve of it;
+it is a passion you carry to an excess which I consider as ridiculous
+as it is unwise--still, in the main, I approve of it. Good wine
+nourishes the tissues, helps to prolong life. Hippocrates and many
+long-headed ancients have something to say on this head. But these
+lifeless memorials of a dead past, in which there is no vitality,
+which are eternally the same, dumb and expressionless----My dear
+friend, I fear you are not listening."
+
+"My thoughts are elsewhere," said Dr. Pye, rising and approaching the
+window. Dr. Vinsen followed him, with suspicion and discontent on his
+face. For the fourth time on this night the room was plunged in
+darkness; for the fourth time the circular lid of the shutter was
+drawn aside.
+
+"There, there!" whispered Dr. Pye. "What do you see?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen peered into the night. "I see nothing."
+
+"Stand back."
+
+Swift as thought he threw the flash-light upon the windows of Samuel
+Boyd's house. Then he masked the shutter and turned on the gas.
+Accompanied by Dr. Vinsen, who jealously watched his every movement,
+he stepped to the table, withdrew the film from the little machine,
+and developed it. And there before them came gradually into view the
+pictured presentment of the face and form of Samuel Boyd, standing at
+the window of his house in Catchpole Square.
+
+Dr. Vinsen's face was pallid, his eyes dilated, his teeth chattered.
+Dr. Pye's face was thoughtful, introspective.
+
+"Do you believe now?" he asked in an undertone.
+
+Dr. Vinsen passed his hand confusedly across his brows.
+
+"We had certain plans," continued Dr. Pye; "are they to be carried out
+to-night?"
+
+"Not to-night; not to-night," replied Dr. Vinsen, turning towards the
+door.
+
+The next moment Dr. Pye was alone.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLII.
+
+                          A FAMILY COUNCIL.
+
+
+On the following morning Aunt and Uncle Rob and Florence and Reginald
+sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Dick, who had not been home
+all night. Although they had had no word from him since he left them
+on the previous evening, they knew that he would join them at the
+earliest possible moment. It had been an anxious night with them, and
+they had had but little sleep. There were dark rims round Aunt Rob's
+eyes, and signs of unrest were on Uncle Rob's countenance. Singularly
+enough, the invalid of the party, Reginald, had gathered strength; his
+voice was firmer, his step more confident, and there was an expression
+on his face which denoted that he had prepared himself to meet the
+worst that fortune had in store for him.
+
+"Florence and I have been considering the straight and honest course
+to pursue," he said, "and we have decided. She wished me at first to
+be guided by your advice; but she is beginning to find out that she
+has married a wilful man."
+
+She gave him a tender smile, and put her hand in his.
+
+"It is not that I don't value your advice; but what would be the use
+of asking for it if I hadn't made up my mind to take it?"
+
+"No use, my dear," said Aunt Rob. "What have you decided to do?"
+
+"To offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of my father."
+
+Aunt Rob nodded her approval, and would have expressed it had she not
+observed the grave look on her husband's face. So she held her tongue,
+and waited for him to speak.
+
+"It is not a plan we generally approve of," he remarked, after a
+pause, "and it seldom meets with success."
+
+"Has it ever?" asked Reginald.
+
+"Yes. A fifty to one chance."
+
+"If it were a thousand to one chance it would be wrong to throw it
+away. Much of the evidence that has been given can be so construed as
+to cast suspicion upon me. How shall I protect myself except by
+showing the world that I court the most searching inquiry? Lady
+Wharton's story is true, and some villain, personating my father,
+succeeded in imposing upon and robbing her. The offer of a substantial
+reward will not only quicken the efforts of the police, but will set a
+hundred people on the hunt. God forbid that I should do anyone an
+injustice. I cannot conceive that Abel Death is the murderer, and yet
+in the eyes of the public it lies between him and me. It would be the
+height of folly to ignore that fact. Here in this paper"--he took up a
+newspaper, glanced at it, and flung it indignantly aside--"is a veiled
+allusion to Abel Death and me as accomplices. No names are mentioned,
+but the inference can hardly be missed. On my way home from the
+funeral on Tuesday, and yesterday from the Coroner's Court, I saw some
+of the newspaper bills with their cruel headlines accusing _me!_ I saw
+the silent accusation in the eyes of the people as I passed. Is it in
+nature that I should sit idly down under such imputations? They are
+enough to drive a man mad, and I shall go mad if I do not do something
+quickly to repel them. The wretch who went down to Bournemouth must
+have purchased a railway ticket; the clerk who sold it him may have
+seen his face; passengers travelling the same way must have seen him:
+he must have been seen by other persons in Bournemouth; he may have
+taken a carriage there to drive to the Gables; if he went on foot he
+may have asked his way to the house; when he left Lady Wharton he
+could scarcely have walked about the town till the trains started in
+the morning; he must have slept somewhere; a waiter or a chambermaid
+may have noticed him; there may have been something in his speech or
+manner to attract attention, however slight. There are a thousand
+things from which a clue may be obtained and which may be brought to
+the recollection by the hope of earning money. The offer of a reward
+will stir people's memories, will cause them to come forward with
+scraps of information which otherwise would be thought of no
+importance. Uncle Rob, Aunt Rob--I dare not, and will not, call you
+father and mother till I am cleared of these vile suspicions--do you
+not see that I _must_ do this for dear Florence's sake, that it is my
+duty to make her less ashamed of the name I gave her?"
+
+The sobs in his throat prevented him from continuing. Trembling in
+every limb, shaking with passion and excitement, he turned appealingly
+to his wife.
+
+She clasped him in her loving arms, crying, "I am not ashamed of it; I
+am proud of it, and of you, my dear, dear husband! If there is a stain
+upon our name you shall wipe it away; you shall make it bright and
+clean and pure, and men and women shall say, 'The son has atoned for
+his father's faults, and stands before the world an honourable
+gentleman who has met misfortune bravely, and silenced the slanderers
+who dared to breathe a word against him.' Oh, my dear, my dear! I
+never loved you as I love you now, I never honoured you as I honour
+you now. Mother, father, stand by us--comfort him, strengthen him!"
+
+She glowed with heavenly pity, with indignant pride, with devoted
+love. The type of a true, brave, honest English girl, she stood
+embracing the man whose heart, whose life, were linked with hers,
+ready to defend him, to suffer for him, to fling back the words of
+scorn flung at him--if need were, to die for him. It is beneath the
+stress of a heavy stroke of misfortune that men and women such as she
+show their noblest qualities.
+
+A great peace stole into Reginald's heart; the sobs in his throat died
+away.
+
+"I will try to prove myself worthy of you," he said huskily. "I pray
+to God that I may live to prove it."
+
+Aunt Rob's heart throbbed with exultation.
+
+"Our daughter, father, that I nursed at my breast," she murmured to
+her husband. "God love and preserve her!"
+
+"Amen!" he answered.
+
+So in that humble home those sweet flowers bloomed in the midst of the
+darkness, and through the lowering clouds one bright star shone--the
+star of love and hope and mutual faith.
+
+When the excitement had subsided, and they were all seated again,
+Uncle Rob said,
+
+"Let it be as you have decided, Reginald, my lad. As an inspector of
+police I might argue with you; as a man and a father I agree with you.
+And in the nick of time, here comes Dick."
+
+To Dick, with his cheerful face and voice, that bore no traces of his
+night's anxious vigil, all was explained. He shook hands with
+Reginald, and said,
+
+"A good move. I'll go a step farther. Let there be two bills put out
+and posted all over England, one offering a reward for the discovery
+of the murderer, the other for giving such information of Abel Death
+as will lead to his being found. You can tell us, perhaps, Uncle
+Rob--would that be against the law?"
+
+"I don't think the law can touch it," he replied. "It might not be
+approved of in some quarters, but the law don't apply, so far as I
+know anything of it."
+
+"If the law," said Aunt Rob, with fine disdain, "can prevent a son
+from offering a reward for the discovery of his father's murderer the
+less we have of it the better. Why, instead of one man looking for the
+monster, there 'll be a hundred! Dick, you must see to the printing of
+the bills, and they should be got out at once."
+
+"I will attend to everything; but before we go into details I've
+something to tell you. I should have been here earlier if I hadn't met
+little Gracie Death. What a brick that mite is! Just listen to what
+she discovered yesterday, Reginald--that there's a way of getting into
+your father's house without getting through the front or the back
+door. You may well look startled; it nearly took _my_ breath away. Do
+you remember that pitiful hoarse voice of hers, uncle, on the night of
+the fog, when she said, 'You _will_ find father, won't you, sir?'"
+Uncle Rob nodded. "Well, as nobody has been able to find him, she has
+made up her mind to find him herself, heaven knows how, but somehow.
+She thinks of nothing else, she dreams of nothing else, and she's got
+it into that clever little head of hers that he's to be found in
+Catchpole Square, the very place, one would imagine, that he'd be
+likely to avoid. If faith can move mountains, as they say it can, the
+thing is as good as done. There is such magnetism in her little body
+that when she speaks she almost makes you believe what she believes.
+Now, I'm not going to tell you how she got into the house while Uncle
+Rob is here. As inspector of police he would consider it his duty to
+make use of the information."
+
+"I certainly should," said Uncle Rob. "I'd best make myself scarce."
+
+"Don't go yet, uncle. I want you to hear something you ought to know.
+Gracie, talking to me this morning, tells me of a man she saw Dr.
+Vinsen speaking to last night. She hates that doctor--so do I; and
+it's because she hates him that she creeps behind them without their
+seeing her, and hears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise.' That's all she does hear,
+because the doctor, turning his head over his shoulder, sends her
+scuttling away; but she's certain he doesn't suspect that he'd been
+followed and overheard. There isn't much in that, you'll say; but
+listen to what follows. Gracie had just finished telling me this when
+a man passes us. 'There,' she says, 'that's the man.' I catch sight of
+his face, and who do you think it was?"
+
+"Out with it, Dick," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"It was the juryman that's been putting all those questions at the
+inquest about our private affairs, and that's been doing his best to
+throw suspicion upon Reginald and me and all of us. Queer start, isn't
+it?"
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XLIII.
+
+                AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER.
+
+
+"There's villainy at the bottom of it," cried Aunt Rob. "Dick, you're
+our guardian angel, and that poor little girl, that I'd like to hug,
+is another. I knew that wretch on the jury was against us from the
+first. There was a sly, wicked look in his eyes every time he turned
+towards us, and when he began to speak I felt as if some one was
+cutting a cork; he set all my teeth on edge. Ought such a monster to
+be allowed to sit on a jury?"
+
+"Who's to prevent it?" said Uncle Rob, thoughtfully. "He's there, and
+has to be reckoned with, though I doubt whether we can do any good.
+Likes and dislikes, when there's nothing tangible to back them up,
+count for nothing; and feelings count for nothing. When people shiver
+and grate their teeth at the squeaking of a cork other people who
+don't mind it only laugh at them."
+
+"There's nothing to laugh at here, father," said Aunt Rob,
+impatiently.
+
+"I know that as well as you do, mother; I don't think any of us are in
+a laughing humour. I'm trying to reason the matter out, and to do that
+fairly you must take care not to let prejudice cloud your judgment.
+When little Gracie Death overhears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your
+instructions, and I'll keep my promise,' what proof have we that it
+has anything to do with the juryman's duties on the inquest?"
+
+"No proof at all," said Dick, "but doesn't it look like it?"
+
+"Such an inference may be drawn, but an inference won't help us. It's
+no good mincing matters. Dr. Vinsen is on the right side of the hedge,
+and we are on the wrong, and that makes all the difference; he has the
+advantage of us. Reginald has put it clearly, and we must be prepared.
+Every hour a fresh complication crops up, and there's no telling what
+the next will bring forth. You see a man with an open newspaper in his
+hand; peep over his shoulder to find out what he's reading. It's the
+Catchpole Square Mystery, and he's running his eyes eagerly down the
+columns to see if anybody's caught, if anybody's charged. It scares me
+to think of it."
+
+"What do you mean, father?" asked Aunt Rob.
+
+"Have you ever seen a bull-baiting without the bull?" said Uncle Rob,
+gravely. "The public's waiting for the bull, and they won't rest
+satisfied till he's in the ring. That's where the danger is. They
+don't care a straw whether it's the right bull or the wrong bull; they
+want something to bait."
+
+Reginald compressed his lips; he understood the drift of Uncle Rob's
+remarks.
+
+"Do you mean to say that they don't want to see fair play?" said Aunt
+Rob.
+
+"I don't mean that. What I'm driving at is that Dick's prejudice
+against Dr. Vinsen, whatever it may be worth, won't help us."
+
+"It will," said Dick, in a positive tone, "and I'm going to follow it
+up. Just answer me this. Do you consider that the inquest is being
+properly carried on? Do you consider it fair that private family
+affairs should be dragged before the public in the way they have
+been?"
+
+"I don't consider it fair."
+
+"Well, then, who is chiefly responsible for it? Who but the juryman
+that little Gracie catches conspiring with Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Conspiring!"
+
+"That's the word, conspiring, and I don't care who hears me. The jury
+on the inquest are sworn, like any other jury, and if it can be proved
+that, before the inquiry is opened, before any evidence is taken,
+there is on the part of one of them an arrangement with an outside
+party to return a certain verdict, that I should imagine is a
+conspiracy, and the law can be made to touch them." Uncle Rob shook
+his head doubtfully. "Well, anyway, there's a free press, and the
+making of such a conspiracy public would influence public opinion, and
+there would be no baiting of the wrong bull, even though he was in the
+ring. 'Hold hard a bit,' the public would cry, 'let us see fair
+play!'"
+
+"Not badly put, Dick," said Uncle Rob, and Florence pressed the young
+man's hand.
+
+"As things stand," he went on with enthusiasm, "it looks very much
+like a match between me and Dr. Vinsen--or, at all events, that's the
+way I view it, and if he were standing before me this present moment
+I'd fling my glove in his face, and be glad if it hurt him. How does
+that juryman fellow become so familiar with our private affairs? It's
+through him you're compelled to tell all about Florence's marriage.
+It's through him that it's been drummed into the public ear that
+Reginald is the only man who benefits by his father's death.
+Bull-baiting is nothing to the way some of us have been treated in
+court; and the prime mover of it all is Dr. Vinsen, who stands behind
+and pulls the strings."
+
+"But what has Dr. Vinsen to gain by it?" asked Uncle Rob, bewildered,
+and yet half convinced by Dick's intense earnestness.
+
+"That's to be found out, and I'm going to, as little Gracie says. If
+he has given me something to ponder over I've given him something
+that'll set his wits at work, unless I'm very much mistaken; and I
+haven't half done with him, nor a quarter. Don't ask me what my
+plans are; it would be the spoiling of them if I let you into the
+secret--and I mustn't forget that an inspector of police is in the
+room, who would do his duty though it should break the hearts of those
+who are dearest to him." These words were spoken with exceeding
+tenderness, and caused more than one heart in the room to throb. "If
+cunning is to be met with cunning, watching with watching, spying with
+spying, trickery with trickery, Dr. Vinsen will find that I am ready
+for him. Look here. What makes him start up all at once and go to Mrs.
+Death, and on the very first night he sees her give her a couple of
+sovereigns? Benevolence? Charity? That for his benevolence and
+charity!" Dick snapped his fingers contemptuously. "What makes him
+tell Mrs. Death a parcel of lies to poison her ears against me? What
+makes him tell me at your father's funeral, Reginald, that his heart
+is large, that it bleeds for all, and that it would be better for some
+of us if we were in our graves? What do I care for his bleeding heart,
+the infernal hypocrite? I'd make it bleed if I had my will of him,
+with his fringe of hair round his shining bald head! As for Dr. Pye,
+that mysterious gentleman keeps himself in the background till he
+sends a letter to the Coroner, saying he has evidence of great
+importance to give. We heard what that evidence was, and we've a lot
+to thank him for, haven't we? Did you notice him as he looked round
+the court till he stopped at Reginald? Accident? No! Premeditation!"
+They started. "I repeat--premeditation. I don't know for what reason,
+but I _will_ know. I don't know what tie there is between Dr. Pye and
+Dr. Vinsen, but I _will_ know. There's black treachery somewhere, and
+I'll ferret it out. Uncle, Aunt, Florence, Reginald, don't think I'm
+mad. I give you my word I am in my sober senses when I say that behind
+the mystery of this dreadful murder that has brought so much sorrow
+into this happy home there is another mystery which I'm going to solve
+if I die for it! I'll leave no stone unturned--for your dear sakes!"
+
+His earnestness, his sincerity, the fervour of his voice, the loving
+glances he cast upon them, sank into their hearts--but it was upon
+Florence's face that his gaze lingered, and he trembled when,
+murmuring, "Dear Dick, you fill us with hope!" she gave him a sisterly
+kiss.
+
+"Dick," said Aunt Rob, tearfully, "there was a time when I thought you
+had no stability, and when I said as much to Uncle Rob. I take it
+back, my lad, I take it back!"
+
+"Don't be too hasty, aunt," he said, with a light attempt at gaiety.
+"Wait and see if anything comes of it. Reginald, I've something more
+to say. There's no mistake, is there, about your having got to your
+lodgings last Friday night week before twelve o'clock?"
+
+"I am certain it must have been before that hour," replied Reginald.
+"As I told them at the inquest yesterday, I cannot entirely depend
+upon my memory. It frequently happens that when there's an important
+subject in one's mind--as there was that night in mine--a small
+incident which has no relation to it impresses itself upon the memory.
+That was the case with me. I can distinctly recall taking out my watch
+when I was in my bedroom, winding it up, looking at the time, and
+putting it back into my waistcoat pocket."
+
+"Did any person see you enter the house? Think hard, Reginald."
+
+"No person, in my remembrance."
+
+"When you put the latchkey in the door the policeman might have been
+passing?"
+
+"He might have been. I did not see him."
+
+"No one saw you go upstairs?"
+
+"Not that I know of. The house is always very quiet at that hour."
+
+"I paid your landlady a visit last night," said Dick, "and she does
+not know what time you came home; neither does the servant, who
+doesn't seem blessed with a memory at all. It is most unfortunate that
+we cannot get a witness who could testify to the hour of your return
+to your lodgings. It would effectually dispose of Dr. Pye's evidence,
+so far as you are concerned, for he says he threw his flashlight at
+three in the morning. By Jove!" Dick exclaimed, looking at the clock
+on the mantelpiece, "it's ten o'clock, and the Coroner's Court opens
+at eleven. I sha'n't be there till late, unless there's a warrant out
+against me"--Dick laughed lightly, as though a warrant were the least
+thing they had to fear. "There's the printing to see to; I don't
+intend to leave the printing office till the reward bills are out. Now
+let's settle how they're to be drawn up; we've got just half-an-hour.
+Aunt Rob, I wish you'd do a kind action for once in your life."
+
+"What is it, Dick?"
+
+"Little Gracie is just round the corner, waiting for me; you won't see
+the tip of her nose unless you turn the street, for I told her to keep
+out of sight. She's my shadow, you know, and I haven't the heart to
+order her not to follow me about. What the child sees in me to haunt
+me as she does is more than I can understand."
+
+"What we all see in you," said Aunt Rob, tenderly.
+
+"Oh, of course. Well, it's my opinion little Gracie came away from
+home this morning without any breakfast----"
+
+Aunt Rob broke in upon him. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself for
+letting a hungry child stand alone in the cold streets all this time."
+Out she ran to pounce upon Gracie.
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," said Dick, gazing after her, "that the Lord
+will allow any harm to come to a woman like that, or trouble that
+can't be cleared away to come to anyone she loves? No, no; the world
+wouldn't be worth living in if that were so. Where she is, sunshine
+is, and love, and charity, and hope--and justice. God bless Aunt Rob!"
+
+And "God bless Aunt Rob!" they all said, with something shining in
+their eyes.
+
+Back she came, holding Gracie by the arm. They all looked kindly at
+the child.
+
+"Any trouble to get her here, aunt?" asked Dick, cheerily.
+
+"Not a bit."
+
+"It's all right, you know, Gracie," he said.
+
+"Yes, Dick, I know," she answered, solemnly.
+
+There was something so patient and uncomplaining, so piteous and
+brave, in the child that hearts less susceptible than theirs could not
+have failed to be touched. Florence stooped and kissed her, and there
+was a little trembling of her bloodless lips; it was the only sign of
+emotion she displayed, and it was gone in a moment. The dry, hoarse
+cough had not left her, and she was not successful in keeping it back.
+Every time it sounded through the room Aunt Rob shivered.
+
+"You men had best go into the next room and settle your business," she
+said; "you haven't too much time to spare, and we don't want you
+meddling with women's affairs." Away they went, meekly. "Gracie, you
+sit here, and don't be shy with us, my dear, we're only homely people,
+the same as yourself. Florence, put another spoonful of tea in the
+pot, and there's the kettle boiling, just in the nick of time. Now, my
+dear, you make a good breakfast--I want you to drink your tea as hot
+as you can, it will ease your cough--it's Dick's cup you're drinking
+out of, you won't mind that, _I_ know--he's told us such a lot about
+you, and everything that's good--cut some more bread and butter,
+Florence--are you fond of jam, Gracie?--but what a question!--when I
+was a little girl I could eat a pot, only they wouldn't give me so
+much at a time--this is Dick's favourite jam, raspberry----" And all
+the time the good woman chattered she was putting food before Gracie,
+and coaxing her to eat, shaking her head at the child's attempts not
+to cough violently, and shaking her head more when she put her hand on
+the bosom of the poor little frock, and discovered how thinly she was
+clad. And all the time Gracie sat quiet at the table and ate, not
+greedily but gratefully, her eyes fixed now on Aunt Rob, and now on
+Florence, with the sweet thought in her mind, "Dick's told 'em a lot
+about me, and everything that's good!"
+
+Breakfast over, they took Gracie upstairs, Aunt Rob saying, "Dick 'll
+be here when we come down, my dear"; and in the bedroom above they
+took off her frock and slipped a warm undervest over the bony chest,
+and another over that, and found a pair of thick stockings that had
+once been worn by a child, and a child's flannel petticoat, and other
+things to match--and there stood Gracie, clothed more comfortably and
+warmly than ever she had been from her birth. And where did Aunt Rob
+find these garments so suitable and fitting for Gracie? They had been
+laid aside in a drawer, with many others, and had once clothed her own
+darling when she was no bigger than the poor little waif to whom they
+had been so ungrudgingly presented. To listen to the mother's wistful
+prattle, to witness the tender handling of this and that garment, to
+see the fond way she put them to her cheeks and kissed them, to note
+the loving looks she cast upon them as memory brought back the day and
+hour when Florence first wore them--true motherhood was never more
+beautifully expressed. And Gracie submitted without uttering a
+word--no sign of emotion on her sallow face, no sighs of delight, no
+tears. But when all was done and Aunt Rob sat down to rest, Gracie
+knelt before her and laid her head in her lap. Florence sat down too,
+and her hand rested lightly on the child's shoulder. Somehow or other
+these sweet offices of sweetest humanity seemed to soften the trouble
+that hung over their heads. Aunt Rob and Florence thought, "God will
+protect dear Reginald. He will hold His shield before us. Upon His
+mercy we will rely. He will see justice done, and we shall all be
+happy once more." While in Gracie's mind was the thought, "I shall
+find father, I shall find father, and mother won't be angry with me
+much longer." For quite two or three minutes there was silence in the
+room, and when Gracie raised her tearless eyes to Aunt Rob's face the
+good woman stroked the thin cheek and said,
+
+"There, that's done, and now we'll go down to Dick. He'll be wondering
+what has become of us."
+
+It was then that Gracie spoke.
+
+"Don't you think mother ain't good to us," she said. "There never was
+a better mother than she's been--and there's such a lot of us," she
+added, wistfully. "I'd rather starve than have you think mother ain't
+good to us!"
+
+"Bless your loving heart, my dear," Aunt Rob returned, kissing her.
+"I'm sure she must be the best mother in all the world to have a
+loving daughter like you."
+
+"Oh, me!" said Gracie. "_I_ ain't much good. But, mother!--she worries
+over my cough so that sometimes I wish I was dead, so that she
+couldn't hear it, and she sets up all night mending our clothes. I've
+caught her at it over and over agin. She'd starve herself for us she
+would. You'd believe me if you knew her."
+
+"I believe you now, my dear. We are all very, very sorry for her!"
+
+"You've been ever so good to me, and so's mother, but she can't do
+what she can't, can she?"
+
+"No one can, Gracie."
+
+"She'll be glad when she sees me with these things on. There's nobody
+like her, nobody. I wish I could pick up a pursefull of money to give
+her; but it'll be all right, you know, when we find father."
+
+"The sooner he's found the better it will be for a good many people,"
+said Aunt Rob, with a pitying glance at the loyal child, and yet with
+a kind of anger in her heart. Tenderly disposed as she was towards
+Gracie, deep as was her compassion for her miserable state and her
+admiration for the noble qualities she displayed, Aunt Rob believed
+Abel Death to be the cause of all this trouble, believed that he had
+murdered Samuel Boyd, and had basely deserted his family with the
+proceeds of his crime.
+
+Meanwhile the men of the family had been having a discussion below
+which had led to the withdrawal of Uncle Rob from the council. The
+first point discussed was the amount of the rewards to be offered.
+Reginald wished it to be large, and, supported by Dick, suggested AL500
+for the discovery and conviction of the murderer, and AL200 for the
+discovery of Abel Death. Uncle Rob opposed this, and contended that
+much smaller sums would be sufficient, bringing forward instances
+where the offer of disproportionate rewards had been the cause of
+innocent persons being accused. His views not being accepted, he had
+reluctantly given way. Then they came to the manner in which the bills
+were to be worded, and Dick had gone to his clothes trunk and had
+fished therefrom a miscellaneous collection of literature, which he
+placed before them.
+
+"I once tried my hand at writing a sensation novel," he said, "and I
+got together a lot of stuff to assist me. I made a muddle of the
+story, and when I was in the middle of it I gave it up. Do you
+remember this case, uncle?"
+
+He held up a poster offering a reward of AL100 for the discovery of a
+murderer. At the top of the bill was the Royal Coat-of-Arms, beneath
+it, in large type, the word MURDER, and beneath that "AL100 Reward."
+
+"I remember it well," said Uncle Rob. "That was the Great Porter
+Square Mystery. It caused great excitement at the time, and the papers
+were full of it. A long time elapsed before the truth came out."
+
+"And then it wasn't due to Scotland Yard," said Dick; "they made
+rather a mess of it there. There is one curious point of resemblance
+between that case and ours."
+
+"I wouldn't speak of that now," said Uncle Rob, with an uneasy glance
+at Reginald.
+
+"Why not? Reginald is prepared for anything that may happen."
+
+"Quite prepared," said Reginald. "Go on, Dick."
+
+"You were abroad when all England was ringing with it, and that, I
+expect, is the reason that it didn't reach your ears. I saw in one
+paper yesterday a comparison between the cases. The curious point of
+resemblance is that the son of the murdered man was arrested by the
+police as the murderer----"
+
+"They did not know at the time that he was the son," interrupted Uncle
+Rob, hurriedly.
+
+"That didn't justify them. The beauty of it is that after going
+through no end of trouble and persecution he was proved to be
+innocent."
+
+"I see," said Reginald, composedly.
+
+"What do you want the bill for?" asked Uncle Rob.
+
+"As a literary guide. We will word our bill exactly like it."
+
+"But it is an official bill."
+
+"Couldn't have a better pattern."
+
+"Can't you word it some other way, Dick?"
+
+"No, uncle," replied Dick, almost defiantly. "This is the model I
+intend to use."
+
+Uncle Rob rose. "God forbid that I should do anything to prevent the
+truth being brought to light----"
+
+"Why, uncle!----"
+
+"But the position I hold," continued Uncle Rob, firmly, "will not
+allow me to sanction by my co-operation the use and form of official
+documents. Besides, if it got to be known it would do more harm than
+good. My dear lads, I'll wait outside till you've done. I doubt my own
+judgment in this matter; my heart and my head are at odds."
+
+So saying, he left them. He was not the only one whose heart and head
+were in conflict during this crisis; Dick alone could be depended upon
+to pursue a certain course with calm, unshaken mind, and now, when he
+and Reginald were together, he met with no opposition. The
+preliminaries, therefore, were soon arranged, and they returned to the
+breakfast room at the moment that Aunt Rob and Florence and Gracie
+entered.
+
+"Why, Gracie," exclaimed Dick, his face flushing with pleasure at the
+improvement in her attire, "you look like a princess."
+
+"She did it," said Gracie, pointing to Aunt Rob; "and oh, Dick, I do
+feel so nice and warm underneath!"
+
+"Never was a fairy godmother like Aunt Rob," said Dick, and was going
+on when she stopped him abruptly.
+
+"Where's father?"
+
+"Walking up and down outside till you're ready. He didn't agree to
+something I proposed, and between you and me he ought not to have a
+hand in what I'm about to do."
+
+"He's in a cruel position. Florence, its half-past ten; we must get
+ready. You do what you've got to do, Dick, and don't talk so free
+before Uncle Rob about your plans; it only upsets him."
+
+"All right, aunt." He hesitated a moment, then went up to Florence,
+who was putting on her hat. "Florence, dear, you must be brave."
+
+"I'll try to be, Dick."
+
+"Keep a stout heart, whatever the verdict may be. It was very dark
+last night, and I kept my eyes on a star that was trying to break
+through the clouds. I put a great stake on that star, Florence. I said
+to myself, 'If it breaks through and I see it shining bright,
+Florence, after a little while, will be the happiest woman in
+England.' A great stake, Florence."
+
+"Yes, dear Dick."
+
+"It glimmered and glimmered. A cloud passed over it, another, another,
+but its light was never quite obscured. Remember that."
+
+"I will."
+
+"And then at last, when there seemed to be no hope for it, the clouds
+cleared away, and it shone as bright, as bright!--and the stake was
+won. That is how it's going to be with the trouble that's upon us. You
+see, Florence, it wasn't only your happiness that was at stake; it was
+mine as well."
+
+"Yours, Dick!" And now there was a look of pain in her eyes.
+
+"Yes, mine, for if, working with all my heart and soul, I can realise
+my dearest wish, you will have a long life of happiness with the man
+you love." He looked brightly around. "Good luck, my dears. Come,
+Gracie."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLIV.
+
+                       IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE
+
+
+"Now Gracie," said Dick, as they wended their way to a small "jobbing"
+printer with whom he was acquainted; he himself had spent a few weeks
+in a printing office, and, as a Jack of all trades, could do something
+in the way of picking up stamps. "Now, Gracie, pay particular
+attention to what I'm going to say."
+
+"_I'd_ like to have a word first, please," she said.
+
+"Go ahead."
+
+"Who is that young gentleman with the white face that the young lady's
+so fond of?"
+
+"The young lady's husband, the son of Mr. Samuel Boyd."
+
+"Mr. Reginald. I thought so. He don't look as if he could have done
+it."
+
+"Done what?"
+
+"You know. The murder."
+
+"He did not do it, Gracie. I suppose you heard Dr. Vinsen say he did."
+
+"He was talking to mother, but he didn't say it outright----"
+
+"Ah, the coward! I hope you don't believe a word that drops from his
+lips."
+
+"_I_ don't; but mother does. Don't blame her, Dick; she can't help
+it."
+
+"No, poor thing. I pity her from my heart, torn this way and that as
+she is. But she's not the only one whose heart is aching over this
+affair. There's care and sorrow yonder." He pointed over his shoulder
+in the direction of Aunt Rob's house. "Gracie," he said energetically,
+"I'd pour out my heart's blood, drop by drop, if by doing so I could
+clear that trouble away!"
+
+"You're fond of her, Dick."
+
+He glanced furtively at the sallow impassive face raised to his. "She
+is my cousin, and Aunt Rob has been a mother to me. I've lived with
+them longer than I can remember. The last words I said to her just now
+were that I wanted to see her happy with the man she loved. That's
+what I'm working for, her happiness--that, and justice. Shall we go
+into partnership, you and I?"
+
+"Yes, Dick, please."
+
+"Your hand on it."
+
+They shook hands, and he resumed his old bright manner.
+
+"There never was a successful partnership without implicit confidence
+between the partners. Do you understand?"
+
+"They mustn't be suspicious of one another."
+
+"That's it. There must be perfect trust between them. I believe in
+you, Gracie, and I'd trust you with my life." Gracie's black eyes
+gleamed. "You're what I call thorough, and you've got the pluck of
+twenty men. We're sailing, you and I, in the ship Endeavour for the
+port Safety. There's only one captain in that ship, as there must be
+in all properly commanded ships when they're sailing through dangerous
+rocks. Now, who's the captain?"
+
+"You."
+
+"Good. I'm captain, and you're first mate, and no captain could desire
+a better. Says the captain to the first mate, 'Mate,' says he, 'I hear
+as how your father's disappeared, and as how they're saying hard
+things of him. That's what oughtn't to be, and we'll mend it. He's got
+to be found, your father is, and brought for'ard,' says the captain,
+'so that he may knock them hard words down their con-founded throats.'
+'That's so,' says the mate--it's you that's speaking now, you know"--
+Gracie nodded--"'that's so,' says the mate, 'and that's what I've made
+up my mind to do, and what I'm going to do. I've had a dream where
+he's to be found,' says the first mate----"
+
+"More than one, Dick--captain, I mean," said Gracie.
+
+"Right you are, my hearty, and there's many a dream that's come true,
+and likewise many that haven't. 'But it isn't because you've had a
+dream,' says the captain, 'that _I_ shouldn't have a shy at the
+discovery of him, and that's what I've set _my_ mind on, if so be as
+you've no objections,' he says. 'Objections!' says the first mate,
+'_I've_ no objections'"--Here Dick broke off. "I suppose he hasn't,
+Gracie?"
+
+"No, Dick, he hasn't. He thinks it more than kind of the captain."
+
+"Love your heart, I knew you wouldn't have. 'And how are you going to
+set about it?' says the first mate. 'Why,' says the captain, planting
+his wooden leg firmly on the deck--did I tell you he had a wooden
+leg?"
+
+"No, you didn't," said Gracie, quite gravely.
+
+"Well, I just remember that he had. 'Why,' says he, planting his
+wooden leg firmly on the deck, 'seeing as how that good woman, Mrs.
+Abel Death, and Gracie, and all the other little ones, are more
+unhappy than words can express because father doesn't come home, and
+as how it may be to some persons' interests to keep him _from_ coming
+home, I'm thinking of offering a reward to anybody that can give
+information as to his whereabouts--in point of fact to find him and
+restore him to the bosom of his family.' That's what the captain says
+to the mate--because he wants to act fair and square by him, and not
+do anything behind his back as might make him doubt that he _wasn't_
+acting fair and square--and he asks the mate what he thinks of the
+idea."
+
+"To _find_ him, captain, not to _catch_ him," said Gracie, slowly,
+with a strong accent on the two words.
+
+"That is how the captain puts it. To find him, and restore him to the
+bosom of his family."
+
+Gracie nodded, and pondered before speaking. "If the mate--that's me,
+Dick--found father, would _he_ have the reward?"
+
+"As a matter of course."
+
+"Who'd pay it to him?"
+
+"It would be paid through the captain."
+
+"Through you?"
+
+"Through me."
+
+"Then there'd be sure to be no cheating, and the mate could give it to
+mother."
+
+"Could do what he pleased with it," said Dick, dropping his nautical,
+and coming back to his original, self, "and we're going straight to
+the printer to get the bill printed."
+
+"How much is the reward, Dick?"
+
+"Two hundred pounds."
+
+"Oh, my!" Gracie caught her breath. "I don't believe father was ever
+worth as much as that in all his life. That's a big lot of money,
+ain't it?"
+
+"A tidyish sum. You don't object?"
+
+"You can't do nothing wrong, Dick."
+
+"Then the partnership goes on swimmingly, and you won't mind seeing it
+on the walls. There will be another bill, offering a larger reward for
+the conviction of the murderer. All we want to get at is the truth, so
+that the innocent may be cleared and the guilty punished. I'm of the
+opinion it will surprise Dr. Vinsen. The slimy reptile! I'd like to
+twist his neck for him."
+
+"I'd like to see you do it," said Gracie, not a muscle of her face
+moving.
+
+"You're something like a partner. Have you any idea where the reptile
+lives?"
+
+"No."
+
+"You could find out, I dare say."
+
+"Oh, yes, I can find out if you want me to," said Gracie, quite
+confidently.
+
+"That's your sort. Only don't look for him in the reptile house at the
+Zoo, where his relations live. I want to know ever so many things
+about him. Whether he lives alone, or has a wife. Whether he has any
+children, and whether they have little bald heads with halos round
+them like their venerable parent. Whether he practises as a doctor,
+and what his neighbours think of him, etc., etc., etc. It's a large
+order, Gracie."
+
+"I'll do it, Dick."
+
+"You're a brick. Here we are at the printer's. But you mustn't go away
+without the needful for current ex's. You might want to jump into a
+bus, and if you keep out all day you'll want something to eat. Hold
+out your hand--one shilling, two shillings, a sixpence, and some
+coppers. If you've anything to tell me come to Aunt Rob's house any
+time between six and eight. I've a particular reason for not wanting
+to be seen with you in Catchpole Square to-night. Here are a couple
+more coppers for brandyballs for the babies at home. Now, off with
+you, my little detective. No sleeping partners in our firm. You and I,
+working together, will make Scotland Yard sit up. We'll beat the
+Criminal Investigation Department, even if it has a dozen Dr. Vinsens
+to back it up. Here's a kiss for good luck, Gracie."
+
+"Thank you, Dick," said Gracie, and away she scudded, proud of the
+task entrusted to her.
+
+Neither of them had noticed that they had been followed in a shambling
+sort of way by an old man in list slippers with a skull cap on his
+head, sucking at a pipe which, in his close observance of them, he had
+allowed to go out. He was blear-eyed, and was cursed with a spasmodic
+twitching on the right side of his face, which imparted to his
+features a ghastly mirth; and close as was his observance of them he
+had so managed as not to draw their attention upon him. During the
+last moment or two he had shuffled so near to them as to brush their
+clothes as he passed, and had heard the concluding words of their
+conversation.
+
+"'Thank you, Dick,'" he echoed, with a half-tipsy lurch, as Gracie
+flew away and Dick entered the printing office. "Dick! It's the man
+himself. Who'll give _me_ a kiss for good luck?"
+
+He laughed and twitched, and with his eye on the door through which
+Dick had passed, proceeded with trembling fingers to refill his pipe.
+
+There was a fair stock of "jobbing" type in the printing office, and
+the master, a working printer himself, was the very man Dick needed
+for the job in hand, trade being rather slack. In imitation of the
+official announcement of a reward in the Great Porter Square murder
+Dick had placed a Royal Coat of Arms at the top of his bill, but the
+printer argued him out of it, being doubtful whether a private
+individual had the right to use it for the detection of the
+perpetrator of a criminal offence. But for the better publicity of the
+reward Dick was bent upon a pictorial illustration, and out of a lot
+of old woodcuts they fished a rough wood-block of the figure of
+Justice, blindfold, holding the scales, which suggested the line
+beneath, "In the Cause of Justice." Within an hour the type was set
+up, corrected, locked in its chase, and on the press, the paper was
+damped, the "devil," a young apprentice, was wielding his roller, and
+the master printer, his sleeves tucked up to his shoulders, was
+pulling off the posters, which read thus:
+
+At the top the figure of even-handed Justice; then--
+
+
+                      _IN THE CAUSE OF JUSTICE_.
+
+                              _MURDER_.
+                            _AL500 REWARD_.
+
+
+_Whereas, on the Morning of Saturday, the 9th of March, the Dead Body
+of Mr. Samuel Boyd was Found on his Premises in Catchpole Square under
+such circumstances as prove that he was Murdered, and Medical
+Testimony has been given to the effect that the Murder must have been
+Committed either on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March. The
+above Reward will be paid to any Person who shall give such
+Information as shall lead to the Discovery and Conviction of the
+Murderer or Murderers_.
+
+_Evidence may be given to Mr. Lamb, 42, High Street, N., Solicitor to
+Mr. Reginald Boyd, Son of the Murdered Gentleman, who will pay the
+Reward, or at any Police Station in the United Kingdom_.
+
+
+The services of a bill-sticker not being immediately procurable, a
+large tin of paste had been mixed while the bills were being printed.
+Begging the loan of a pasting brush, and begging also the loan of the
+"devil" to carry the paste tin, Dick, now more than ever a Jack of all
+trades, issued forth to stick the bills himself, leaving behind him
+the copy of the poster offering a reward for the discovery of Abel
+Death. He was pasting the first of the bills on a dead wall when he
+saw the figure of the old man in list slippers and skull cap standing
+by his side.
+
+"Hallo!" he said, peering down at the twitching face, with its
+expression of ghastly mirth.
+
+"Hallo!" said the old man, peering up at the flushed, handsome face of
+the bill-sticker.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER XLV.
+
+                           CROSS PURPOSES.
+
+
+Dick recognised him instantly, and scented danger. The man who peered
+up at him, with all the leering muscles of his face at work, was the
+man of whom he had bought the rope and grapnel. With assumed
+carelessness he said,
+
+"You'll know me when you see me again, old fellow."
+
+"Shouldn't wonder," said the old man. "My name's Higgins. What may
+your'n be?"
+
+Dick had not quite finished sticking the first bill. Whether from not
+being used to the business, or from inward perturbation, he was making
+rather a bungle of it. Under any circumstances, however, he would have
+been ready to admit that there is an art even in bill-sticking.
+
+"Let's make a guess, shall us?" said Mr. Higgins, with a cunning look,
+plunging into doggerel. "Riddle-me-riddle-meriddle-me-ree, first comes
+a, then b c d; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rye, the letter we stop
+at next is i; riddle-me-riddle-me-riddle-me-rick, a c and a k will
+make it spell Dick." Mr. Higgins was so enamoured of this impromptu
+that he chuckled to himself, "Will make it spell Dick, will make it
+spell Dick."
+
+"Look here," said Dick, an uncomfortable feeling spreading over him,
+"what do you want?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum," replied Mr. Higgins, suddenly descending from the
+heights of Parnassus.
+
+"All right," said Dick, "at the first pub we come to."
+
+"Pub over there," said Mr. Higgins, twitching his head at the opposite
+side of the road. "Throat dry as a bit o' rusty iron."
+
+The bill was stuck, and people were stopping to read it. Even in these
+days of huge and startling advertisements on the walls--not the least
+conspicuous of which are the lank figures of blue or scarlet females
+in outrageous costumes and impossible postures, the product of a
+mischievous school of impressionists--even amidst these monstrous
+parodies of art a double-demy poster offering a reward of AL500 for the
+discovery of a Murderer is certain to command an audience. So it was
+natural enough that a little crowd should gather, and that eager
+comments and opinions should be exchanged.
+
+"That's a big reward. AL500!" "Ought to have been offered before.
+What's that picture on the top? Justice, eh, holding the scales? If
+she's anything like that, _I_ don't think much of her. Anyway I wish I
+knew where to lay hands on the man that murdered Samuel Boyd. Set me
+up for life it would." "Murderers you mean. When the truth comes out
+you'll find there's a regular gang, with Abel Death at the head of
+'em." "Well, _I_ don't believe he's in it. I heard a detective say
+yesterday----" "Oh, a detective. Much good _they_ are!" "I say, don't
+you consider it a rum go that Mr. Reginald Boyd should be offering the
+reward? Why, there's any number of people says _he_ did it." "How can
+that be when he says he's willing to pay AL500 for the discovery and
+conviction?" "Ah, but that might be a plant, you know. They've been
+that cunning from first to last that there's no saying what they
+mightn't be up to." "What comes over me is what they've done with Lady
+Wharton's jewellery. Nice lot the ladies of the upper suckles,
+borrowing money secretly of such a cove as Samuel Boyd. I s'pose it's
+their gen-teel way of putting things up the spout. Now, what are they
+going to do with it when she can swear to every bit of it?" "Do with
+it? Take it to Amsterdam or New York. Easy to get rid of it there."
+"Why go so fur? Ain't there plenty of fences in London?" "Never catch
+'em, never! There's no clue." "No clue! How about that bullet in the
+wall, and the blood-stains on the floor?" "But the old man wasn't shot
+or stabbed. What d'yer make of that?" "Why, that they had a barney
+among theirselves when they was dividing the swag. Another man
+murdered, most likely." (Delicious suggestion.) "What did they do with
+his body?" "Carried it to the river, tied a big stone to it and sunk
+it. When the reward gets known they'll be dragging the water from
+Greenwich to Windsor." "Well, of all the mysterious murders _I_ ever
+heard of this Catchpole Square one takes the cake." "Queer move, ain't
+it, offering a reward before the inquest's over? What's the verdict
+going to be? There's a cove on the jury seems to know as much about it
+as most people."
+
+To this and a great deal more Dick listened, and Mr. Higgins listened,
+without either of them saying a word. Dick lingered because he wished
+to find out what would be the probable effect of these bills on the
+walls; and Mr. Higgins, pulling at his under lip, listened because
+Dick listened, and watched the young man's face cunningly to see what
+impression the various arguments made upon him. There was malice in
+his bloodshot eyes, and Dick did not like the look of things. While
+thus ruminating and listening, Mr. Higgins touched him on the arm with
+his empty pipe.
+
+"Fine day, Mr. Higgins," he said, in his free and easy way.
+
+"Beastly day," growled Mr. Higgins. "I'm shaking all over."
+
+"What's good for the complaint?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum, to commence with."
+
+"I have to work for my living," said Dick, brightly, "and if you
+insist upon my standing you a quartern of rum you'll have to carry the
+paste pot."
+
+"See you--hanged first," said Mr. Higgins, with a mirthless laugh.
+
+"Think better of it," said Dick, insinuatingly, holding out the paste
+pot.
+
+After a moment's hesitation Mr. Higgins thought better of it, and took
+the paste pot, with a grimace, to the imminent risk of the contents.
+Then Dick dismissed the printer's boy, and with the bundle of damp
+bills under his arm walked over to the publichouse, Mr. Higgins,
+carrying the shaking paste pot, and following close at his heels.
+
+"Where will you have your rum," he asked, "at the bar, or in a private
+room?"
+
+"Private room," said Mr. Higgins. "Better for all parties."
+
+They were soon accommodated, and liquor supplied, bitter ale for Dick,
+and rum for the old man, which he disposed of in one gulp. He then
+demanded another quartern, which Dick called for, and disposed of it
+in an equally expeditious manner.
+
+"You've got a swallow," said Dick. "Now, my Saint Vitus friend, what's
+your little game? Leave off your damnable twitchings, and begin."
+
+Mr. Higgins fumbled in his pockets, and produced three crumpled
+newspapers which, after much difficulty, he straightened out upon the
+table, a corner of his eye on Dick all the time he was thus employed.
+With tremulous forefinger, long a stranger to soap and nail brush, he
+pointed to a sketch portrait in an account of the inquest, which Dick
+recognised as intended for himself. It being evident that Mr. Higgins
+expected him to offer an observation on the libel, he said,
+
+"Who may this individual be? It's only a head and shoulders. Is it
+supposed to be a man or a woman?"
+
+"Yah!" was Mr. Higgins's sarcastic comment. "What are you giving us?
+Can't you read what's underneath?"
+
+"Can't you?" retorted Dick.
+
+"No," snarled Mr. Higgins, twitching, not with shame, but resentment.
+"Neglected as a kid, jumped upon as a man. But a worm'll turn when
+it's trod on, won't it?"
+
+"Not being a worm, can't say. Take your word for it."
+
+"And even a man that's been jumped on all his life can see a bit o'
+luck when it's ahead of him. Look here, young fellow; take the advice
+of a man old enough to be your father."
+
+"Say great grandfather," interrupted Dick, saucily, "and get it over
+in once."
+
+"Smart you are, you think--smart; but you'll find that cheek don't pay
+in this shop, Mr. Dick Remington. D'ye twig the name printed
+underneath this portrait. 'That's a face I've seen afore,' says I to
+myself when it meets my eye. I looks at another paper." Mr. Higgins
+turned over the sheet and brought into view another portrait of
+Dick--"and strike me straight!' Why, there it is agin,' I says. 'And
+here it is agin,' I says." He turned over the third sheet, "and
+underneath 'em all the name of Dick Remington. 'What luck!' says I to
+myself. 'What a slice o' luck for a second-hand dealer in odds and
+ends as tries hard to get a honest living, and as everybody puts
+upon--with trade that bad that it couldn't be wus--taking down your
+shutters and putting 'em up agin to the tune of two and sevenpence,
+which won't as much as half pay your rent.'"
+
+"Stop your whining," said Dick, "and cut it short. What is it you
+want?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum."
+
+The answer seemed to be so settled a formula when a question of this
+kind was put to him that it mechanically popped out like a bullet from
+a gun. Pending compliance with his demand, as to which Dick did not
+hesitate, and the pouring of the liquor down his throat, as if it were
+the mouth of a vat, there was an interval of silence. Then, with a
+wandering finger on the portrait, Mr. Higgins "cut it short" in two
+words.
+
+"True bill?"
+
+"True bill," replied Dick, with an assenting nod, "and what of it?"
+
+"What of it?" cried Mr. Higgins, with venom in his voice. "Rope and
+grapnel of it!" He thrust his twitching face forward to within an inch
+or two of Dick's.
+
+"Oh, that's the game," said Dick, concealing his uneasiness. "And what
+a game it is--oh, what a game it is! Says I to myself, when I gets
+detective Lambert's evidence read out to me--'there's a man for you!
+with eyes all over him, and one to spare'--says I to myself when I
+hears that evidence, 'rope and grapnel over the wall--by the Lord,
+he's hit it!' Then I asks the boy that's reading the paper to me, 'And
+who may that be the picture of?' 'That,' says he, 'is the picture of
+Mr. Dick Remington, nephew of Inspector Robson, and cousin of the
+young lady as goes and marries the son of Samuel Boyd on the sly.'
+He's a sharp little boy, almost as sharp as you, Mr. Dick Remington.
+'O-ho!' says I to him, 'and does Mr. Dick Remington give evidence at
+the inquest?' 'Yes, he does,' says the boy, and he reads it out to me.
+'You've missed something,' I says. 'You've missed what Mr. Dick
+Remington says about the rope and grapnel.' 'He don't say nothing at
+all about it,' says the boy. 'It must be in another paper,' I says,
+and I buys 'em all, and has 'em all read out to me, word for word, and
+if you'll believe me there ain't a word in one of 'em about the use
+that Mr. Dick Remington makes of the rope and grapnel he bought of a
+honest tradesman as sweats hisself thin to get a living, and then
+can't get it. That's what I call a coinci-dence. What do _you_ call it?"
+
+"I call it a coinci-dence, too," said Dick, with a searching gaze at
+the disreputable figure, "especially when it happens to an honest
+tradesman like Mr. Higgins." There was a gleam of suspicion and doubt
+in Mr. Higgins's eye as he twitched up his head at this remark, which
+caused Dick to add, with meaning emphasis on the words, "To such a
+very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Something got in your throat?"
+
+"Caught my breath," gasped Mr. Higgins, choking and glaring.
+
+At any other time the contortions he made to recover it would have
+amused Dick, but just now he was not in the mood for any kind of light
+diversion. Still it was with a mocking air that he contemplated Mr.
+Higgins, and in a mocking tone that he repeated for the second time,
+
+"Such a very honest tradesman as Mr. Higgins! Get on, will you? You
+left off where you'd been having all the papers read to you."
+
+That the doubt as to the success of his enterprise which Dick's
+independent manner had introduced was not lessened was apparent, for
+though what he said was pregnant enough his tone lost something of its
+confidence.
+
+"Yes, I gets 'em all read out to me, and it sets me thinking. 'What
+call has Mr. Dick Remington got to keep it dark?' says I to myself.
+'Why don't he say nothing about it? There's something in the wind. He
+comes to my shop, and buys a rope and grapnel in a secret sort o'
+way'--"
+
+"Wrong, my honest tradesman," interrupted Dick, and Mr. Higgins
+shifted uneasily in his chair, "I bought it openly. Did I ask you to
+keep it dark?"
+
+"No, you didn't, but did you go out of my shop with the rope hanging
+over your arm?' O-ho!' says I, 'here's a working man ashamed to carry
+a rope. He asks for a bit of paper to wrap it up in, he does, and he
+puts it under his coat, he does. That's a rum sort o' working man,'
+says I."
+
+"Clever Mr. Higgins," said Dick, patronisingly, "clever Mr. Higgins!"
+
+"Do you mean to tell me," said that worthy, driven to exasperation by
+Dick's coolness, "that you didn't use it to get over the wall at the
+back of Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square, that it wasn't you as
+broke the kitchen winder, that you didn't break open the safe--"
+
+"Hold hard," said Dick, "you've had the papers read wrong. The safe
+was not broken open."
+
+"What does that matter?" snarled Mr. Higgins. "Broke open, or opened
+with a key, it's all the same. The man as did it helped hisself to the
+money and jewels, and made off with the swag--with _my_ rope and
+grapnel that cost me its weight in gold--how does that strike you, Mr.
+Dick?"
+
+"You old fool," said Dick, with a broad smile, "if you knock your head
+against that brick wall you'll knock out the few brains you possess.
+If you think I can't reckon up an honest tradesman like you, you were
+never more mistaken in your life." And with the forefinger of his
+right hand he tapped the side of his nose, and winked at Mr. Higgins.
+
+But though he spoke and acted thus boldly he fully recognised the
+seriousness of this new danger. Say that this man laid information
+against him at the first police station; say that it got to the
+knowledge of Detective Lambert who was searching everywhere for a clue
+to the mystery. What would be the consequence? A warrant would be
+immediately issued for his arrest, and a search warrant as well. The
+rope and grapnel, tied up in brown paper, was now under the bed of his
+room in Constable Pond's house, and the key of that room was in his
+pocket. How could he explain away his possession of the rope? He would
+be asked why he made no mention of it at the inquest; his silence
+regarding it would be a piece of damning evidence against him. And not
+the only piece. His prowling about in the neighbourhood of Catchpole
+Square at an early hour of the morning, as testified by Constable
+Applebee, was in the highest degree suspicious when taken in
+connection with his possession of the rope and grapnel. His knowledge
+of the habits of Samuel Boyd, gained during his employment as clerk in
+the house, would be against him. One thing was certain. He would be
+deprived of his liberty, and the contemplation of this contingency
+filled him with dismay. Everything depended upon his being free to
+carry out the plans he had formed, and therefore upon his turning the
+tables upon the old vagabond who sat leering into his face.
+
+And in the event of his being arrested, what would be said of him in
+Aunt Rob's home? Was it not probable, aye, more than probable, that
+they would suspect _him_ to be the murderer? He had woven a net for
+himself, and if he were not careful he would drag down Reginald with
+him. Press and public would say "collusion," and the chain of
+circumstantial evidence be too strong for him to break through.
+
+Admitting all this, he felt that any sign of weakness in the presence
+of Mr. Higgins would be fatal. There was nothing for it but to play
+the bold game.
+
+"I've a good mind," he said, slowly and sternly, "to go and give
+information against you."
+
+"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Higgins, his features twitching more
+hideously than ever. Dick hailed these signs of discomposure with
+delight, and encouraged by the impression his sarcastic references to
+Mr. Higgins as an honest tradesman had produced he was quick to take
+advantage of it. He resembled the gambler who stakes his whole fortune
+upon the last throw.
+
+"Did you ever see the secret books of the police," he said, "with the
+names of certain men with black marks against them? Why, we can lay
+our hands upon every thief and fence in London when we want to--do you
+hear? when we want to." Mr. Higgins winced. "There are some things
+that lick us for a time, like this Catchpole Square Mystery, but we
+don't go to sleep over them, though some people may think we do. And
+when we're playing a high game we don't show our cards. What I mean
+is, that we'll have your place searched for stolen goods. How will
+that suit you, my honest tradesman? We can bring one or two things
+against you that you'll find it hard to explain when you're in the
+dock. If we let you alone it's because you're not worth the powder and
+shot, but get our dander up, Mr. Higgins, and we'll make short work of
+you. How does that suit your book? Take care of your precious self, my
+man, and let sleeping dogs lie."
+
+It was vague, but effective, and it was Dick's good fortune that the
+hazardous shot told. Indeed, it had gone straight to the bull's eye.
+Many were the questionable transactions in which, from time to time,
+Mr. Higgins had been engaged. Petty thieves in the neighbourhood were
+in the habit of selling their small spoils across his counter; this
+modern Fagin was always ready to buy, and no questions asked. He had
+been in trouble more than once, and was in mortal dread of getting
+into trouble again. This, of course, was unknown to Dick, and it was
+only from his familiarity with the nature of much of the business
+transacted in some of these second-hand shops in mean streets that he
+had ventured upon the bold attack. He could have hugged himself when
+he saw the effect it produced upon Mr. Higgins.
+
+"There is nothing like a good understanding in these matters, Mr.
+Higgins," he continued, "and I've no wish to be hard on you. I've got
+my own game to play, and it's keeping me pretty busy. Between
+ourselves--don't be frightened, there's nobody by--I did purchase a
+rope and grapnel of you, but is it for you to say whether I purchased
+it for myself or for another person, and what use I made of it? I
+might deny it if I chose, and then, my honest tradesman, who would
+take your word against mine? Is there any magistrate's court in London
+where your oath would be believed, much less your word? What a blind
+fool you are! Upon my word I gave you credit for more sense. Perhaps
+the reporter of 'The Little Busy Bee' used a rope and grapnel, perhaps
+he didn't. Perhaps it was the one I bought of you, perhaps it wasn't.
+I'm not going to let you into the know, Mr. Higgins. How would you
+like to have the papers down on you as well as the police? How do you
+know I'm not acting under instructions to track and catch the murderer
+or murderers of Samuel Boyd? How do you know"--here he leaned forward,
+and tapped Mr. Higgins confidentially on the breast--"that I'm not in
+the secret service myself? Would you like to hear what is in these
+bills that you are going to help me stick on the walls? I've just come
+from the printing office where I've had them printed. You can't read,
+you say; it is a pity you should be left in the dark, so I'll read it
+to you." Dick spread one out, and read it aloud, with unction. "It
+reads well, doesn't it? I'm rather proud of it. That's a figure of
+Justice on the top. My idea. Rather a good idea, I flatter myself. A
+pretty fellow you are to come and threaten me with your rope and
+grapnel! I'll tell you what your game is, Mr. Higgins. Blackmail. That
+is it--blackmail. A dangerous game, old man, and you've got hold of
+the wrong end of the stick--perhaps you see that now. If I had
+anything to fear is it likely that I'd be going about in open daylight
+sticking up these bills? More likely to be sailing on the open seas
+for some foreign port. Where are your wits, you clumsy idiot?"
+
+To judge from Mr. Higgins's appearance, they had gone wool-gathering.
+He literally gasped beneath the volley which Dick had poured upon him,
+at the end of which he was sitting in his chair in a state of helpless
+collapse. Dick had turned the tables upon him with a vengeance.
+
+"Now, what have you got to say?" he asked, triumphantly.
+
+"Quartern o' rum," gasped Mr. Higgins.
+
+"When we've finished our confab you shall have it, and another one or
+two on the top of it as we go along. Lord bless you, Mr. Higgins, I'm
+not an ill-natured chap, if you take me easy, and I have the credit of
+generally being freehanded when I'm not interfered with. Pull yourself
+together, and listen to what more I've got to say. What we want to
+do--the secret service, the detectives, the Criminal Investigation
+Department, and all of us--is to keep this matter as quiet as possible
+till the thieves and murderers are nabbed. We're working on the strict
+q.t., and we've got something up our sleeve, I can tell you. And I'll
+tell you something more. If any outsider interferes with our game by
+blabbing about ropes and grapnels it will be the worst day's work _he_
+has ever done, and he'll live to rue it. We'll wipe him out, that's
+what we'll do. We'll have no mercy on him."
+
+This was the finishing stroke. Mr. Higgins lay helpless at the foot of
+the conqueror.
+
+"I made a mistake," he whined. "Quartern o' rum."
+
+"You would sell your own mother for drink, I believe."
+
+"No, no," protested Mr. Higgins, feebly, "not so bad as that, not so
+bad as that. Good for my liver. Keeps me alive."
+
+"A nice state your liver must be in," said Dick, laughing. "I think we
+understand each other. Take up the paste pot, and carry it steady. You
+shall be paid for your day's work. Tenpence an hour, so look sharp."
+
+Mr. Higgins, completely subdued, had his fourth quartern at the bar,
+and shortly afterwards the British public had the privilege of seeing
+Dick Remington stick up the murder bills, assisted by an old man in
+skull cap and list slippers, in that stage of palsy from his recent
+experiences that his course was marked by a dribble of paste spilt
+from the pot he carried in his trembling hands. At every fresh
+stoppage a crowd gathered, arguing, disputing, airing theories. These
+chiefly consisted of conjectures as to who the murderer was, how the
+murder had been committed, how many were in it, who the man was who
+had been seen by Dr. Pye coming out of the house in Catchpole Square
+at three in the morning, whether he was the same man who had imposed
+upon Lady Wharton, how the blood-stained marks of footsteps on the
+floor were to be accounted for, whether there was any chance of the
+jewels being recovered, and so on, and so on. At one place there was a
+conversation of a different nature.
+
+"What I find fault with in that there bill," said an onlooker, a man
+with a forbidding face, dressed in corduroy, "is that no pardon is
+offered to any accomplice as didn't actually commit that there murder.
+Where's the indoocement to peach on a pal, that's what I want to
+know?"
+
+"A white-livered skunk I'd call him whatever his name might be,"
+remarked a second speaker. "Honour among thieves, that's what I say."
+
+"Oh, come," said a third, "let's draw the line somewhere."
+
+"It's what they put in the bills," grumbled the man in corduroy,
+offering no comment on these expressions of opinion, "and I don't see
+no mention of it in that there blooming bill."
+
+"It's what they put in the Government bills," said the second man,
+"but this ain't a Government bill. It's a reward of AL500 offered by a
+private individual."
+
+"A private individual!" sneered the first speaker. "You don't call Mr.
+Reginald Boyd a private individual in this here case, do you? He's a
+interested party, that's what _he_ is. What I say is--and anybody can
+take it up as likes--where's the indoocement to peach on a pal?"
+
+"Well, don't take it to heart, mate," said another. At which there was
+a general laugh. "Do you know how it runs in the Government bills?"
+
+"No, I don't; but I know it's alias there, and allus should be there."
+
+"I can give you the words, if you wish to hear them," said a quiet
+onlooker, who, meditatively rubbing his chin, was watching the crowd
+and the billsticker.
+
+Dick repressed a start. It was the voice of Detective Lambert, with
+whom he was acquainted. He turned and accosted the officer, who put
+his finger to his lips, thus indicating that they were not to address
+each other by name.
+
+"Good morning," said Dick.
+
+"Good morning," said Lambert. "I did not know you were in this line of
+business."
+
+"Anything to turn an honest penny, said Dick, cheerfully.
+
+"Give us the words, mate," said the man in corduroy.
+
+"They run in this way. 'And the Secretary of State for the Home
+Department will advise the grant of her Majesty's gracious Pardon to
+any accomplice not being the person who actually committed the murder,
+who shall give such evidence as shall lead to a like result.'"
+
+"You seem to be well up in it, guv'nor."
+
+"Fairly well. I did a turn in a Government printing office once."
+
+"Then you could inform us, perhaps, as a matter of general interest,"
+said an elderly man, "whether the accomplice, who would be Queen's
+evidence----"
+
+"Yes, Queen's evidence."
+
+"Would get the reward as well as the pardon?"
+
+"In course he would," said the man in corduroy, answering for Lambert.
+"That's the beauty of it. Only wish _I_ was an accomplice in this here
+blooming murder, with them words in that there bill orfered by the
+Government. I'd touch, mates, pretty quick, that's what _I'd_ do. But
+as it stands, where's the indoocement? It ain't 'arf a bill without
+the indoocement."
+
+This insistence of the implied merit attaching to an act of treachery
+did not seem to meet with the approval of many in the crowd, who edged
+away, with distrustful looks at the speaker. Dick also walked off, and
+Detective Lambert walked by his side awhile, Mr. Higgins shambling
+humbly in the rear.
+
+"A bold move," remarked Lambert.
+
+"A proper move," said Dick. "Anything new stirring?"
+
+Lambert rubbed his chin for two or three moments without replying, and
+few persons would have supposed that he was paying much visual
+attention to the man at his side or the man in the rear; but Dick knew
+better. He knew that detective Lambert was one of the shrewdest and
+the most observant officers in the service, and that nothing escaped
+his attention.
+
+"Five hundred pounds is a good round sum," he said.
+
+"It is," said Dick. "Why not earn it?" Lambert gave him a curious
+look, surprised, for one brief moment, out of himself. "If it was a
+Government reward," continued Dick, who also had his eyes about him,
+"there wouldn't be a chance for you, for the words would run, 'the
+above reward will be paid to any person (other than a person belonging
+to a police force in the United Kingdom) who shall give such
+information,' etc. Now, this reward doesn't apply in this way. The
+reward will be willingly and gladly paid to any person, whether he
+belongs to the police or not. Is it worth considering?"
+
+"Yes," said Lambert, thoughtfully, "it is worth considering. You asked
+me whether there's any thing new stirring. Well----" But he paused
+suddenly, as if he were about to say too much. "One of these days,
+perhaps, there will be a case in the papers that, for daring and
+mystery, will beat even the Mystery of Catchpole Square."
+
+"Can't imagine one," said Dick. "It wouldn't be fair to ask if there's
+any connection between the two cases." He paused; Lambert was silent;
+Dick turned the subject. "What do you think of my new apprentice? A
+modern species of Ganymede, carrying the pastepot instead of the wine
+cup. Nothing like novelty in these days; people run crazy after it.
+Only you must keep it well advertised; everything depends upon that.
+Drop your advertisements, and youth grows wrinkled in an hour. Now,
+what we're aiming at in this mystery"--he flourished his paste
+brush--"is that, until we get at its heart, people shan't
+forget it. We'll keep it before them morning, noon, and night. No
+hole-in-the-corner business. Step up, old man." This to Mr. Higgins,
+who came shambling forward, his features twitching twenty to the
+dozen. With the eyes of so sharp an officer as Lambert upon him Dick
+was not stupid enough to dream of keeping the old man in the
+background. He knew that any such attempt would end in Lambert's
+finding means of making himself thoroughly acquainted with Mr.
+Higgins's business and character before the day was out, so he took
+the bull by the horns, and introduced his companion by name, giving
+also his trade and address. "There's a specimen of an honest tradesman
+for you. Queer sort of assistant for me to pick up?"
+
+"There's no denying it," said Lambert.
+
+"There's a little story attached to the way Mr. Higgins and I struck
+up a friendship. What's the best thing in life worth living for, old
+man?"
+
+"Quartern o' rum," replied Mr. Higgins. The answer seemed to be jerked
+out of him by force of magnetism.
+
+Dick laughed; Lambert made a movement of departure.
+
+"Are you off?" asked Dick.
+
+"Off I am. Take care of yourself."
+
+"I'll try to."
+
+Dr. Pye's countenance during his late interview with Dr. Vinsen was
+not more inscrutable than that of Detective Lambert. The trained habit
+of concealing one's thoughts is part of the stock in trade of more
+than one class of men, and shrewd as Dick was he would have found it
+beyond his power to divine what was passing in Lambert's mind as he
+strolled leisurely away, but a quiet smile on the younger man's lips
+denoted that he was not dissatisfied with the problem he had presented
+to the detective. "I've given _him_ something to puzzle over," was
+Dick's thought, "and I'm a Dutchman if I haven't thrown him off the
+scent in regard to my friend Higgins."
+
+"There's a man for you," he said, as he gazed admiringly after the
+vanishing figure of the detective. "Have you the pleasure of knowing
+the gentleman?"
+
+"Can't say as I have," was the answer.
+
+"That's the famous Detective Lambert, who gave evidence at the
+inquest. And what a ferret he is! Search France and England through,
+and you won't meet his match. He had his eye on you, I noticed." Mr.
+Higgins shivered. "If ever you get into his clutches look out for
+snakes. It's a pleasure to work with a man like that. He and I are on
+the same lay."
+
+Another hour's steady work, and the last bill was pasted on the walls
+and the last quartern of rum disposed of. Then he reckoned up what was
+due to Mr. Higgins, paid and dismissed him, and repeated his caution
+about looking out for snakes if it should be his bad fortune to fall
+into the clutches of the famous detective.
+
+"I've about settled _your_ hash," mused Dick, as he saw Mr. Higgins
+plunge into the nearest beershop. "But how do I stand with Lambert?
+That's a different pair of shoes. What did he mean about another case
+of mystery? I thought he was going to let it out, but he pulled
+himself up short. Never mind, Dick. You've had a narrow squeak to-day,
+and you've got out of it with flying colours. Go ahead, my lad, and
+stick at nothing."
+
+Had Detective Lambert followed Dick to the neighbourhood of Covent
+Garden and overheard what passed between him and certain well known
+tradesmen therein he would have had another problem to solve, in
+addition to those which were already occupying his attention.
+
+
+
+
+                                 CHAPTER XLVI.
+
+              "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE'S" REPORT OF THE CONTINUATION
+                              OF THE INQUEST.
+
+
+The inquiry into the death of Mr. Samuel Boyd was resumed at the
+Coroner's Court in Bishop Street this morning before Mr. John Kent.
+Long before eleven o'clock the usual crowd of persons had gathered
+round the doors, but so numerous had been the application for seats
+from privileged and influential quarters that very few of the general
+public succeeded in gaining admittance. Intense as has been the
+interest evinced in this extraordinary case, the startling and
+unexpected revelations made by witnesses who have voluntarily come
+forward to give evidence have raised it to a level reached by no other
+murder mystery in our remembrance. It would be idle to deny that the
+evidence of the last witness examined yesterday has given a
+significant turn to the proceedings.
+
+So far as we have been able to ascertain, the police have obtained no
+clue to the man who personated Samuel Boyd and who so successfully
+imposed upon Lady Wharton in Bournemouth. We understand that it is the
+intention of her ladyship's advisers to offer a substantial reward for
+the recovery of her jewels, and a list of them, with detailed
+descriptions, has been sent to every pawnbroker in the kingdom. To
+this course we ourselves see no objection, although we are aware that
+many of the Scotland Yard officials are strongly of the opinion that
+the offer of a reward in such cases only serves to put the guilty
+parties more carefully on their guard. For the same reason they may
+object to the bills that are now being posted in London offering
+rewards for the discovery and conviction of the murderer or murderers,
+and for the discovery of Abel Death, of whom no news whatever is as
+yet forthcoming. The bills are appropriately headed "In the Cause of
+Justice," and it is to be hoped that they will assist the cause of
+justice. We make no comment upon the circumstance that Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, at whose instance this step has been taken, has made himself
+responsible for the payment of AL500 in the one case and AL200 in the
+other. The argument that it will stimulate persons to recall
+apparently insignificant details in connection with the movements of
+the guilty parties, and to make them public, is sound, for important
+results have been known to spring from the revelation of details which
+in ordinary circumstances would be considered too trivial to mention.
+In the course of the next few days further developments may be
+expected.
+
+It was understood that this morning's proceedings would be opened with
+the examination of Mrs. Abel Death, but before she was called Mr.
+Reginald Boyd rose and addressed the Coroner.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I ask permission to say a few words."
+
+The Coroner: "You have already been examined, Mr. Boyd, and I am
+desirous not to subject the jury to the inconvenience arising from an
+inquiry unduly protracted."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I can assure you, Mr. Coroner, and you, gentlemen
+of the jury, that I do not wish to waste your time, but you must see
+that what has transpired in the course of this inquiry affects me most
+deeply. In common justice I ask to be heard."
+
+The Juror: "Let us hear what Mr. Reginald Boyd has to say."
+
+The Coroner: "I am in your hands, gentlemen."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "After the evidence given by Dr. Pye--or rather I
+should say, after the statement he has made affecting myself--my
+desire is to declare even more positively than I did yesterday that I
+reached my lodgings on Friday night within a few minutes of midnight,
+that I went to bed, and did not arise from it for a week in
+consequence of my illness. I fear that it is not in my power to offer
+corroborative evidence. My landlady and her servant went to bed, I
+understand, between ten and eleven o'clock, and have no recollection
+of hearing anybody come into the house after they retired. It is my
+misfortune, also, that I was the only lodger in the house. I let
+myself in with my latchkey. I have no remembrance of meeting with
+anyone nor of speaking to anyone, but I can swear to the time because
+I looked at my watch, and wound it up in my bedroom."
+
+The Coroner: "Very well. Perhaps you had better not say anything
+more."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "Why not, Mr. Coroner? I desire it to be widely
+known that I court the fullest and most searching inquiry. I cannot
+avoid seeing that Dr. Pye's statement that the man he saw bore a
+striking resemblance to myself throws a grave suspicion upon me. I do
+not impugn his evidence, but I contend that it is only fair that equal
+consideration should be given to my statement as to his. I will
+endeavour to make myself clearer. I affirm upon my oath that I was in
+my bed within a few minutes of midnight, and did not leave it again.
+Dr. Pye affirms that three hours afterwards he saw a person resembling
+me leave my father's house in a suspicious manner. To the truth of my
+statement I can bring forward no witnesses. Can Dr. Pye bring forward
+any witnesses to the truth of his? If uncorroborated evidence given by
+me is open to doubt, so should uncorroborated evidence given by him be
+viewed. A man's honour--to say nothing of a son's innocence or guilt
+of so awful a crime as the murder of his father--is not to be judged
+by a stranger's unsupported word. In the sacred name of justice I
+protest against it."
+
+These words, spoken with manliness and deep emotion, made a marked
+impression upon the audience, which was deepened when they turned to
+the glowing face of the witness's wife. A murmur of sympathy ran
+through the Court.
+
+The Juror (referring to his notes): "But in your account of the
+incidents of that night you informed us that you could not depend upon
+your memory. Quoting your own words: 'I was deeply agitated, and my
+mind was in confusion. The fever from which I immediately afterwards
+suffered, and which kept me to my bed several days, may have been upon
+me then.' Do you adhere to that?"
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd: "I do. In describing my condition my endeavour was
+to speak the honest truth, and to offer no excuse which could not be
+accepted by an impartial mind, nor to take advantage of any. But that
+does not affect my distinct recollection as to the time I wound up my
+watch in my bedroom."
+
+The Juror: "We must not, however, lose sight of the fact that no
+suspicion attaches to Dr. Pye, and that it is not his veracity that is
+here in question."
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd (with warmth): "Is that a fair remark from one of
+the jury?"
+
+The Coroner: "It is a most improper remark, and should not have been
+made in open Court. Call Mrs. Abel Death."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLVII.
+
+          "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" CONTINUES ITS REPORT OF THE
+                               INQUEST.
+
+
+The public are by this time acquainted with much of the evidence Mrs.
+Death had to offer. After narrating the circumstances of her husband's
+dismissal from the service of Mr. Samuel Boyd, and of his going late
+at night to Mr. Boyd's house in Catchpole Square to beg to be taken
+back, the examination proceeded as follows:
+
+"What salary did your husband receive from Mr. Boyd?"
+
+"Twenty-two shillings a-week, with deductions for imaginary faults."
+
+"Did he work long hours?"
+
+"From nine in the morning till eight at night. Occasionally he worked
+overtime, but was never paid anything extra."
+
+"He was not happy in his situation?"
+
+"How could he be, sir, with such a master?"
+
+"They had frequent disagreements?"
+
+"I'm sorry to say they had; but it wasn't my husband's fault."
+
+"Did he ask Mr. Boyd for a loan of ten pounds?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"He hoped it would be granted?"
+
+"We fully expected it, sir."
+
+"The refusal to grant the loan must have been a great disappointment
+to your husband?"
+
+"It almost broke his heart, sir."
+
+"May that not have exasperated him, and caused him to speak words to
+Mr. Boyd which might have been construed into a threat?"
+
+"I am sure that could not have happened. My husband was most
+particular in telling me everything that passed between them, and he
+didn't use a threatening word. He did ask Mr. Boyd if he believed in
+God, and Mr. Boyd said no, he didn't."
+
+"Then there was bad blood between them when they parted?"
+
+"I suppose there was, sir."
+
+"To what do you attribute Mr. Boyd's unexpected refusal to lend the
+money?"
+
+"To Mr. Reginald's visit in the afternoon. It made his father
+furious."
+
+"Now, as to the object of Mr. Reginald Boyd's visit in the afternoon.
+Was it to obtain money from his father?"
+
+"That was what my husband believed."
+
+"And was this the object of his second visit late at night?"
+
+"My husband said of course it must be that, but that he wouldn't get a
+penny out of the old man."
+
+"After your husband's dismissal, are you aware whether he and Mr.
+Reginald Boyd met?"
+
+"They couldn't have met, sir, or my husband would have told me."
+
+"No doubt you have heard many of the theories that have been advanced
+to account for his absence from his home?"
+
+"Well, sir, I have. Some say--the wretches!--that he murdered Mr.
+Boyd, and has run off with the money. Some say that he has made away
+with himself, but it isn't possible he could have thought of such a
+thing. I _was_ a bit afraid of it the last night I saw him when he
+started up to go to Catchpole Square, but he saw what was in my mind,
+and he said, 'Don't you think that of me. You've got trouble enough to
+bear; I'm not going to bring more upon you. I'll do my duty, and fight
+on to the bitter end.' And that's what he would have done."
+
+"Have you any idea at all as to the cause of his absence?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Foul play."
+
+"Did he have any enemies?"
+
+"Not to my knowledge, sir. He wasn't of a quarrelsome disposition."
+
+"Were there any money transactions between him and Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"Not exactly transactions, sir. Once, when we had sickness at home,
+Mr. Reginald saw that my husband was worried, and he asked him if he
+was in any trouble. Hearing what it was, and that we were frightened
+to send for a doctor because of the expense, he gave my husband two
+sovereigns. We thought it was a loan, but afterwards, when we offered
+to pay it off at a shilling a week, Mr. Reginald said it was only a
+friendly little present, and that he would be vexed if we didn't look
+upon it as such. I remember my husband saying, 'I wish I was working
+for Mr. Reginald instead of for his father.' We were very grateful to
+him, and I always looked upon him as a model young gentleman till old
+Mr. Boyd was murdered, and then----"
+
+"Why do you pause? Go on."
+
+"No, sir, I won't. It wouldn't be fair."
+
+The Juror: "But we should like to hear, Mrs. Death?"
+
+"I'm not going to say anything more about it, sir, unless you force me
+to it. Every man ought to have his chance."
+
+The Juror (to the Coroner): "I think, Mr. Coroner, the witness should
+be directed to finish the sentence."
+
+The Coroner (to Mrs. Death): "You would rather not say what is in your
+mind?"
+
+Mrs. Death: "I would rather not, sir."
+
+"Then I shall not ask you to disclose it."
+
+The Juror: "But, Mr. Coroner----"
+
+The Coroner: "I am conducting this inquiry, and I have given my
+decision." (To the witness). "How long did you remain up on Friday
+night after your husband went to make a last appeal to his employer?"
+
+"I did not go to bed at all that night. I waited for him till nearly
+two in the morning, and then I went to Catchpole Square, on the chance
+that Mr. Samuel Boyd would be able to give me some information of him.
+I knocked at the door, and hung about the Square a goodish bit, but I
+couldn't get anyone to answer me. Then I came home again, and waited
+and waited."
+
+"You went from your house at two in the morning?"
+
+"About that time, sir."
+
+"How long did it take you to reach Catchpole Square?"
+
+"It was a dark night, and I should think it took me half an hour or
+so."
+
+"So that you would be in front of Mr. Boyd's house at about half past
+two?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"You knocked more than once?"
+
+"Several times, sir."
+
+"And waited between each fresh summons for an answer?"
+
+"For the answer that never came, sir."
+
+"And after that, you hung about the Square. Can you say for how long a
+time?"
+
+"I can't speak with certainty, but I should say I must have been there
+altogether quite an hour."
+
+"That brings us to half past three?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+The Juror: "I see your point, Mr. Coroner, but the witness did not
+probably possess a watch."
+
+The Coroner: "Have you a watch or a clock in your rooms?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"Then your statement as to the time is mere guesswork?"
+
+"No, sir. When I was in Catchpole Square I heard a church clock strike
+three."
+
+The Coroner (to a constable): "Do you know if there is an officer in
+Court who lives near Catchpole Square?"
+
+The Constable: "I do myself, sir."
+
+The Coroner: "Is there a church close by that tolls the hour?"
+
+The Constable: "Yes, sir, Saint Michael's Church."
+
+The Coroner: "It can be heard in Catchpole Square?"
+
+The Constable: "Quite plainly, sir."
+
+The Coroner: "Thank you." (To Mrs. Death). "You heard the hour strike
+when you had been some time in the Square?"
+
+"I must have been there half an hour."
+
+"And you remained some time afterwards?"
+
+"For as long again."
+
+"Are you certain that the church clock struck three?"
+
+"I am, sir. I counted the strokes."
+
+"You did not move out of the Square?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"During the whole time you were there was the door of Mr. Samuel
+Boyd's house opened?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"You did not see any man come from the house, and linger on the
+threshold of the door?"
+
+"No, sir."
+
+"At about that hour of three did you observe a sudden flash of light
+from an opposite house?"
+
+"No, sir, it was quite dark all the time I was there."
+
+"You are quite positive?"
+
+"Quite positive, sir."
+
+While these questions were asked and answered the spectators in Court,
+many of whom had been present while Dr. Pye was giving his evidence
+yesterday, held their breath, as it were, and an expression of intense
+relief was observable in the countenances of Mr. Reginald Boyd and his
+wife and her parents.
+
+The Juror: "Do you think, Mr. Coroner, that the evidence on the point
+of time is reliable?"
+
+The Coroner: "As reliable as the evidence of witnesses on other
+points."
+
+The Juror: "It is uncorroborated."
+
+The Coroner: "So is the evidence of Dr. Pye, as Mr. Reginald Boyd
+remarked."
+
+The Juror: "So is Mr. Reginald Boyd's evidence."
+
+The Coroner: "Exactly." (To Mrs. Death.) "I have no further questions
+to ask you."
+
+
+
+
+                           CHAPTER XLVIII.
+
+                      THE CORONER'S SUMMING-UP.
+
+
+"We have now," said the Coroner, addressing the jury, "arrived at the
+end of the inquiry, so far as the examination of witnesses is
+concerned, and the duty devolves upon you of carefully considering the
+evidence, and of giving your verdict. At the opening of this inquiry I
+made a strong appeal to you to keep an open mind, and not to be
+influenced by the rumours and theories which have been freely broached
+by press and public. It is in this way that the interests of justice
+will be best served. The case is one of the gravest import, and your
+task one of unusual difficulty. For this reason I feel it my duty to
+address you at greater length than is usual in inquiries of this
+nature.
+
+"There are leading points in the case which we may take as established
+beyond dispute. One is that a murder has been committed, a murder of
+extreme brutality, and distinguished by features of extreme cunning.
+Another, that the man murdered is Mr. Samuel Boyd. Another, that the
+murder was committed on the night of the 1st or the 2nd of March.
+
+"That the crime should have remained undiscovered so long is due to
+the peculiar domestic habits of the deceased, and to the facts that he
+kept no servants in his house, that he lived quite alone, and that on
+the evening of the 1st of March he dismissed the only person whom he
+kept regularly employed. Had this dismissal not been given, and had
+Mr. Abel Death, his clerk, gone to his work as usual on the following
+morning, the discovery of the murder would have been made within a few
+hours of its perpetration, and the task before you would have been
+rendered far less difficult. I would not have you attach too much
+importance to the apparent connection between the perpetration of the
+murder and the disappearance of Mr. Abel Death. Coincidences as
+strange are not uncommon in matters less serious, and it is not
+because this matter is serious that the coincidence should be
+construed to the disadvantage of a man who is absent. Up to Friday,
+the 1st of March, his relations with his employer were as fairly
+satisfactory as could have been expected from the miserable stipend he
+received and from the character of the murdered man, and, unpleasant
+as those relations became on that last day, there was nothing in them,
+so far as we are aware, to supply a reason for the committal of a
+deliberate and dastardly murder, all the details of which must have
+been carefully planned. If Mr. Abel Death had been a party to this
+plan he would hardly have asked his employer for a loan of ten pounds,
+a small sum for a rich man to grant to his confidential clerk.
+
+"For the purpose of arriving, as far as possible, at a clear
+comprehension of this part of the mystery let us for a moment follow
+the probable movements of Mr. Death on that night.
+
+"He is dismissed from his employment, and he leaves the office, a
+disappointed and unhappy man; he relates to his wife all that passed
+between him and his employer, and subsequently informs her that he is
+going to Catchpole Square to make another appeal to his employer. I
+gather that the time of his arrival at the house would be about ten
+o'clock, at which hour we may assume that Mr. Samuel Boyd had not
+retired to rest. At about nine o'clock Lady Wharton left Mr. Samuel
+Boyd at the door of his house, and from that moment all is mystery. We
+know, however, that he must have had matters to attend to which would
+keep him up a couple of hours. Lady Wharton had deposited with him a
+number of valuable jewels, to which, when she was gone, he would
+naturally devote attention, appraising them, and probably taking a
+list of them. The dismissal of his clerk would most likely cause him
+to pay some attention to the state of the books and accounts, and the
+jewels had to be put in a place of safety.
+
+"All this would occupy him a couple of hours, and this brings us to
+eleven o'clock, when he would be ready to seek his bed. But before
+this hour Mr. Abel Death, according to the theory we are following
+out, has paid his visit, or rather, has made his attempt to see his
+employer. He knocks at the door, and in response to the summons Mr.
+Boyd goes down to see who is there. A man living alone in a house so
+safely removed from public observation would be scarcely likely to
+open his street door to casual visitors at ten o'clock at night, nor,
+the business of the day being over, would he neglect to put the chain
+on the street door. His probable course of action would be to go down,
+and, opening the door as far as the chain would allow, inquire who is
+there. He is answered by Mr. Death, who begs to be admitted to make
+his appeal; is refused; while standing in the square implores to be
+taken back; is listened to, laughed at, ordered to go away, and the
+door shut in his face.
+
+"I do not see how we can carry the matter farther as regards Mr.
+Death. To assume that he is admitted to the house, and that Mr. Boyd
+went to bed in his presence, is so wildly improbable that we may at
+once reject it. If anything can be said to be ridiculous in so awful a
+tragedy it would be to suppose that Mr. Boyd thus placed himself in
+the power and at the mercy of a man whom he knew to be embittered
+against him, and who was in a sense desperate. As to Mr. Abel Death's
+subsequent movements we are left in mystery. His wife suggests foul
+play. That a man left in the position to which my argument has carried
+him should deliberately conceal himself without a distinct motive is
+not to be thought of, and for this reason I consider the suggestion of
+foul play tenable. From whom, or from what quarter, who shall say? But
+we are not here to inquire into this matter; it is not the fate of Mr.
+Death we have to deliberate upon, and I advise you therefore to narrow
+the issue, which is sufficiently wide and perplexing, by setting him
+aside. There is nothing whatever to connect him with the crime beyond
+the merest conjectures, and were he alone concerned the only verdict
+that could be returned would be one of 'Murder by some person or
+persons unknown.'
+
+"We will now turn to another branch of the subject. In reply to a
+question I put to Mrs. Death she expressed her belief that her husband
+had no enemies: but a man carrying on such a business as Mr. Samuel
+Boyd transacted must have had many. However harsh it may sound, there
+is in my mind very little doubt that he must have inflicted great
+wrongs upon a number of persons. The tactics pursued by moneylenders
+of his class are so tricky and unscrupulous--they are so entirely
+oblivious of the claims of common humanity--that they must perforce
+breed animosity and resentment in the breasts of those whom they
+entrap. I am referring, understand, to that class of moneylenders
+whose nefarious practices have made them a danger to society, and I am
+happy to see that the strong arm of the law is being stretched forward
+to protect the unwary and unsuspecting victims who fall into their
+clutches. On the other hand, there are, of course, among such a man's
+customers some crafty borrowers who would trick the moneylender as he
+would trick them, men with doubtful reputations whose characters are
+no better than his own. It is for your consideration whether Mr.
+Samuel Boyd has fallen a victim to a cunningly laid plot on the part
+of a band of these men; the abstraction of the books and papers in
+which their names would appear favours this presumption. We have no
+evidence presented to us that affords a clue to the discovery of such
+a plot, but it will be as well not to lose sight of its probable
+existence.
+
+"Returning to my argument concerning Mr. Samuel Boyd's movements
+within his house on the night in question, we behold him still alone
+at about eleven o'clock, his office business finished, the visit of
+Mr. Abel Death disposed of, and he preparing for bed. And here Mr.
+Reginald Boyd comes into the picture.
+
+"We have heard from his lips his account of what took place during his
+interview with his father, and we have to accept or reject it. They
+were alone together, there were no witnesses, and we have only Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's word to go upon. You must not allow this to militate
+against him. In the circumstances of the case it is hardly possible
+that there could have been witnesses to corroborate the account he
+gave, and I have no hesitation in declaring that his bearing in the
+witness box bore the impress of truth. It has been objected to that in
+the course of this inquiry private domestic affairs have been dragged
+into the light which seemingly had no connection with it, but painful
+as this must have been to certain of the witnesses, it has established
+more than one point which, in the opinion of some of you, may be of
+importance--such, for instance, as the nature of the relations which
+existed between Mr. Samuel Boyd and his son, and the fact that the
+latter was in extremely straitened circumstances. I do not think that
+any blame is to be attached to the son for having renounced the name
+of Boyd two years ago, when the strained relations between him and his
+father led to his leaving, or being turned from, his home in Catchpole
+Square. It is not an instance without parallel; men have changed their
+names for motives less powerful than this. Mr. Reginald Boyd's bearing
+while giving his evidence here, was that of a high-spirited,
+independent young gentleman, who held in abhorrence the business
+tactics and practices of his father, and it is not unnatural, when the
+connection was severed, that he should resolve to be quit of a name
+which carried with it a disreputable stigma.
+
+"Nor was it unnatural that Mr. Reginald Boyd should have believed
+himself to have been tricked out of the fortune his mother left him,
+and that, being now a married man, anxious to provide a home for his
+wife, he should have made an effort to obtain restitution. In my
+reference to these matters I am not wandering from the issue, for what
+you have to consider is, not one incident, circumstance, or act, apart
+from the others, but all the incidents, circumstances, and acts in
+relation to each other. What in the former case may seem suspicious
+may, in the latter case, be robbed of its suspicious complexion.
+
+"And do not forget that there was not a single question put to Mr.
+Reginald Boyd, whether pertinent to this inquiry or not, which he
+refused to answer. He evinced, indeed, an anxiety to disclose
+everything within his knowledge which cannot be regarded in any other
+than a praiseworthy light. He even went so far as to voluntarily
+mention small incidents leading to the asking of questions, his
+answers to which may be unfavourably construed. I observed him
+narrowly while these questions were being asked and answered. There
+was no confusion in his manner; he answered unhesitatingly and
+frankly. His demeanour was entirely that of a man who was giving his
+evidence with honest intention."
+
+"Interrupting you here, Mr. Coroner," said the Juror, "was not the
+evidence of Dr. Pye given in a manner which invited entire belief in
+his honesty and straightforwardness?"
+
+"I was coming to Dr. Pye," said the Coroner. "Yes, there was nothing
+in his conduct in the witness box that would warrant a belief that he
+was not speaking truthfully. It cannot be denied that the evidence he
+gave threw a startling suspicion on Mr. Reginald Boyd, and were it not
+for the evidence of Mrs. Abel Death which, in point of time, is in
+direct conflict with that of Dr. Pye, I should be addressing you in
+different terms, so far as Mr. Reginald Boyd is concerned. Here we are
+confronted with a most singular discrepancy. Dr. Pye states that he
+saw a man issue from Mr. Samuel Boyd's house at three o'clock in the
+morning. Mrs. Abel Death states that she was in Catchpole Square from
+half past two till half past three on the same morning, and that
+during the whole of that time the door of Mr. Boyd's house was not
+opened. I do not see how these conflicting statements can be brought
+into reconcilement. The presumption that Mrs. Death may have been
+mistaken as to the time of her visit to, and her departure from,
+Catchpole Square is disposed of by her further statement that, while
+she was in Catchpole Square, she heard the hour of three struck from a
+neighbouring church clock. And we have evidence that the chimes of
+Saint Michael's Church can be heard in the Square."
+
+The Juror: "Might she not have been mistaken, Mr. Coroner? It may have
+struck two. If Mrs. Death reached Catchpole Square at half past one
+and remained till half past two, the discrepancy would vanish."
+
+The Coroner: "Just so; but it is not for us to alter the statements of
+witnesses in order to make them fit in with one another. We have to
+take the evidence as it is presented to us, and draw our conclusions
+from them. I asked Mrs. Death if she was certain that the church clock
+struck three, and she answered that she was, and that she counted the
+strokes. However, gentlemen, there is the discrepancy, and you must
+place your own construction upon it.
+
+"With respect to the night on which the murder was committed we may
+safely assume that it was Friday night. Mrs. Death's repeated knocking
+at the street door would surely have aroused the inmate had he been
+living. Mr. Boyd was in the habit of going out daily, but from that
+fatal Friday night he was not seen alive.
+
+"So much of the morbid interest attaching to this case has been
+centred upon Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Abel Death, that there is a
+danger of matters being overlooked which have an important bearing
+upon the inquiry. The disposal of the body in bed and the composing of
+the limbs after a violent life and death struggle had taken place, the
+orderly condition of the rooms after the confusion into which this
+violent struggle must have thrown their contents, direct our minds to
+a consideration of the kind of men responsible for the murder and the
+robbery. That so much trouble should have been taken to remove and
+obliterate all signs of the struggle, and to make it appear that a
+ruthlesss and brutal deed had not been committed, would seem to point
+to the probability that the men are not experienced members of the
+criminal classes; while the skill and cunning of the plot, and the
+cool and deliberate way in which it was carried out, denote that they
+are men of infinite resource and daring. I use the plural because I
+share the belief that the deed and all that followed it were not the
+work of one hand. A master mind there certainly must be, and I can
+conceive no greater danger to society than that such a man should be
+at large, watching this case and guarding against its consequences.
+
+"Undoubtedly the leading motive was robbery, but behind this leading
+motive were others as to the nature of which we have no clue. For what
+reason were the books of accounts and the private papers of the
+murdered man removed? Valueless in a commercial sense, why should the
+robbers have encumbered themselves with articles of considerable bulk,
+the carrying of which, by night or by day, would have drawn attention
+upon them? Some ulterior motive there must have been. The close and
+secret manner in which the deceased conducted his business, the
+circumstance that he admitted no man into his confidence, serve, in
+the present aspect of the case, as a stumbling block to justice. The
+criminals must have been familiar with the premises and with the
+habits of the deceased. They must have known where the key of the safe
+was kept, they must have known that it contained property of value. It
+is difficult to understand why a sum of money was left in the pockets
+of Mr. Boyd, but it is only one of many circumstances which it is
+difficult to understand.
+
+"And mark the hardihood, confidence, and patience with which the plot
+was carried to issues not included in the original plan of the crime.
+On Saturday morning Mr. Boyd lies dead in his bed, and the criminals,
+if not still in the house, have free access to it. I am following this
+out now because it is quite likely to have escaped you in the
+multitudinous incidents and circumstances of the mystery which it is
+necessary for you to bear in mind. On Monday Lady Wharton recollects
+that Mr. Boyd, when he received the fresh acceptances signed by Lord
+Wharton and endorsed by Lord Fairfax, omitted to hand back the old
+bills for which the new ones were given in exchange. She writes to Mr.
+Boyd, she being then in Bournemouth and he lying dead in London. In
+her letter she requests him to bring the old bills to Bournemouth, and
+also requests that the loan of AL1,000 already arranged between them,
+for which she had deposited jewels as security, should be increased to
+AL1,500, promising, for the additional AL500, to hand him other jewels
+as security when they meet in Bournemouth. The letter written and
+posted, is left by the postman in the post box of Mr. Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square. And here we are brought face to face with the
+unparallelled audacity of the criminals. Having access to the house
+they obtain possession of the letter, and they conceive the idea of
+personating the dead man for the purpose of getting hold of these
+additional jewels. No illiterate, uneducated criminals these;
+past-masters in forgery as well as in murder, who shall say what
+undiscovered crimes may be laid at their door? I have no hesitation in
+declaring that no parallel exists in criminal records to the expedient
+they adopted and carried to a successful end. You have heard the
+astonishing story from Lady Wharton's own lips, you have heard it
+corroborated by her brother, Lord Fairfax. It is an extraordinary
+revelation, more like a chapter from the dark pages of romance than a
+chapter from real life. The closer the attention we devote to the
+many-sided aspects of this mystery, the longer we consider it and turn
+it this way and that in the endeavour to grasp a tangible clue, the
+more bewildering does it become. One moment suspicion rests upon one
+person, the next moment upon another, the next our suspicions fade
+away; while behind those whom we already know as being connected--and
+bear in mind, as likely as not innocently connected--with the awful
+tragedy lurk others whose identity up to the present moment is a
+sealed mystery.
+
+"It has been my desire to place the matter before you in as clear a
+light as possible, and I am fully sensible of the difficulty of your
+task. Justice demands that this mystery shall be cleared up, but be
+careful that you do not take a false step, for at the same time
+justice demands that you do injustice to no man because of some theory
+or prejudice you may have in your mind."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER XLIX.
+
+                  LITTLE GRACIE DEATH ON THE TRAIL.
+
+
+While her mother was being examined in the Coroner's Court, little
+Gracie Death, glowing with gratitude to Aunt Rob and her family, and
+solemnly impressed with a sense of the importance of the task she had
+undertaken, set out on the trail of Dr. Vinsen. She clearly understood
+that she was serving Dick's friends as well as Dick himself, but it
+was of Dick she thought most, and it was him she most ardently wished
+to serve. The attachments formed by children, and the ideals they
+create, are often stronger and more binding than those of men and
+women; and no stronger attachment was ever formed by a child, and no
+more lofty and beautiful an ideal created than those which reigned in
+Gracie's soul for Dick. Her heart throbbed with pride to think that
+the man she loved best in the world next to her father had taken her
+into partnership, and had entrusted her with a mission. There was no
+indication of this on her quiet, sallow face, or in her black eyes.
+When passion is demonstrative it is far less enduring than when it
+lies hidden in the soul.
+
+Gracie intended to fulfil the mission entrusted to her. Dick had said
+that between them they would make Scotland Yard sit up. Well, they
+would. Inspired not only by the kiss which he had given her for good
+luck, but by an absolute reliance upon herself, Gracie pondered upon
+her course of action. She must go somewhere. Where? She had no idea in
+which direction Dr. Vinsen lived, and she was not the kind of girl to
+flounder about without something to guide her. Once she set eyes upon
+him she would stick to him like a limpet to a rock till her purpose
+was achieved. She turned her face homeward; he might by chance be
+there.
+
+He was there. She heard his voice as she was ascending the stairs, and
+she paused to listen. He was asking the children for their mother, and
+a chorus of voices informed him that Mrs. Death had gone to the
+"inkage," which was the nearest approach the little ones could make to
+"inquest." Gracie thought it was a curious question for him to ask,
+because she had heard him and her mother speaking of Mrs. Death being
+a witness in the inquiry. She crept up a step to hear what further he
+had to say.
+
+"And Gracie," he said, "where's our little Gracie--our lit-tle
+Gra-cie? Has she gone to the 'inkage' too?" Who could doubt that it was
+out of mere playfulness he gave their pronunciation of the word?
+
+"Oh, no," answered the most forward of the children, "she can't get
+in, she can't. And mother didn't want her to."
+
+Other questions of no importance were asked and answered, and then the
+door of the room was opened, and Gracie saw Dr. Vinsen's legs on the
+landing. Down she slid, as noiselessly as a cat, out into the mews she
+sped, and from the recess of a neighbouring front door watched him
+issue from the house. He stopped and exchanged words with a woman whom
+Gracie knew, and with whom she was a great favourite; they were close
+to her hiding place, and Gracie heard what passed. He was very
+gracious, he smiled blandly, spoke in a smooth voice, and pushed his
+hat to the back of his head to wipe his brow, thereby affording a
+glimpse of his halo. To Gracie's surprise he was inquiring for her
+again, and the woman could not inform him where she was.
+
+"She's a busy little thing, sir," said the woman; "she runs in and out
+as if all the world and his wife was depending on her. We all like
+little Gracie Death."
+
+"I trust she is deserving of it," said Dr. Vinsen, with a number of
+amiable nods. "Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a
+thankless child."
+
+"If that's a dig into little Gracie," said the woman, with spirit,
+"it's what she don't deserve. Beggin' your pardon, sir, I won't have
+little Gracie run down."
+
+"One for him," thought Gracie, with a chuckle. "Give it him hot.
+You're a good sort, Mrs. Thomson."
+
+"Dear me, dear me!" said Dr. Vinson. "Run our little Gracie down--our
+lit-tle Gra-cie down! No, no, indeed! The sweetest child, the sweetest
+child!"
+
+"That she is, sir," said the woman, "and I beg your pardon again for
+speaking so hasty."
+
+"No offence, my good creature, no offence," said Dr. Vinsen; "where
+none is meant, none should be taken. Is this your little one?" A
+sturdy blue-eyed toddlekins was tugging at her apron strings, and he
+stooped and patted the curly head. "Here's a penny for lollypops. Good
+day--_good_ day!"
+
+He raised his hat, which caused the woman to stare, and strolled out
+of Draper's Mews. She gave a start when Gracie glided from behind the
+door.
+
+"I didn't want him to see me," said Gracie. "Thank you ever so much
+for sticking up for me."
+
+And she, also, strolled out of Draper's Mews, and followed Dr. Vinsen
+at a distance so carefully and warily, and apparently with so much
+unconcern, that no one would have suspected that she was engaged upon
+the most important task she had ever undertaken. "Now I've got you,"
+was her thought, "and I don't let you go." She kept her sharp eyes
+fixed upon him. When he stopped she stopped, when he lingered she
+lingered, when he walked slowly she walked slowly, when he quickened
+his steps she quickened hers. It appeared as if he were undecided as
+to the course he should pursue, for now and then he looked about him,
+and seemed to debate which way to turn. It was evident that he had no
+definite business to attend to, and no definite goal to reach. Passing
+a public house of a superior kind, he had gone a dozen yards beyond it
+when he turned back and entered the private bar. Grace made a rapid
+survey, to see how many doors there were by which he could leave. In
+point of fact, although of course it was a corner house, there was
+only one, but of this she was not aware, so she posted herself on the
+opposite corner and watched all the doors, and if there had been twice
+as many she would have had eyes for them all. He remained a long time
+in the private bar, and when he made his reappearance he was still as
+undecided as to his course. It may have been out of mere idleness that
+he entered a chemist's shop and purchased something, which he put into
+his pocket as he came out. In this aimless way he and Gracie strolled
+on through Park Street, Islington, at one part of which he crossed the
+road and looked up at the windows of a house. It was the house in
+which Reginald had lodged. Gracie noted the number, and would not
+forget it. So they strolled on, past the Grand Theatre, past Sadler's
+Wells, through Clerkenwell into Holborn, where he hailed a bus for
+Charing Cross, and got inside. "It's a good job Dick gave me some
+money," thought Gracie, as she scrambled to the top without being
+observed by the gentleman she had been following.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER L.
+
+                     EZRA LYNN, THE MONEY-LENDER.
+
+
+At Charing Cross Dr. Vinsen alighted, and Gracie descended from the
+roof in the manner generally adopted by females, with her back instead
+of her face to the horses, which is by far the more dangerous way of
+the two to climb down from an omnibus. But, Gracie being a girl of
+unusual sharpness and penetration, it may be that she got down that
+way for the purpose of keeping her eye upon Dr. Vinsen, and if this
+were so she was quite successful, for she did not lose sight of him
+for a single moment, despite the busy throng of people hurrying in all
+directions, and the bewildering entanglement of vehicles of every
+description, which render this part of London at mid-day one of the
+most marvellous demonstrations of the civilised life of a great city
+that can be met with all the world over.
+
+It was now one o'clock, and the newsboys were shouting out the early
+editions of the evening newspapers, for if there is one thing upon
+which modern journalism especially prides itself, it is that it can
+take time by the forelock and can hurry the rising and the setting of
+the sun. In these shouts and cries Dr. Vinsen--still lingering with
+the uncertain air upon him by which his previous movements had been
+distinguished--appeared to take great interest, listening to them
+intently and scanning such portions of the contents-bills carried by
+the boys as were visible in the midst of the hurly-burly. The familiar
+cry of "The Great Catchpole Square Mystery!" was as potent a bait as
+ever to purchasers, among whom Dr. Vinsen was not the least eager.
+Gracie saw on the contents-bills such headlines as "Emphatic Statement
+of Mr. Reginald Boyd," "The Coroner's Reproof to the Juryman," and
+"Mrs. Abel Death under examination," and she herself expended a
+halfpenny in literature, but did not stop to read the paper, her whole
+attention being required to watch her game and to elude detection.
+
+At the corner of Parliament Street Dr. Vinsen entered a bus that
+crossed Westminster Bridge. There was no room on the roof for Gracie,
+and she dared not get inside, so she ran along the pavement, her
+breath coming thick and fast; there was plenty of space in this wide
+thoroughfare for the vehicle to put on a spurt, and the horses
+galloped smartly on. Luckily for Gracie there was a stoppage at the
+top of Parliament Street to enable passengers to get in and out, and
+she could recover her breath; and when the omnibus started again the
+traffic on the bridge was crowded, so that she trotted along quite
+comfortably, and had no difficulty in keeping her game in view. At the
+end of the bridge Dr. Vinsen got out and sauntered on past St.
+George's Hospital and the shabby old site of Astley's Theatre, haunted
+by memories of Ducrow and Ada Menken--names strange to the rising
+generation, though once upon a time they made all London ring--and
+past a medley of mean shops, till, on the opposite side of the road,
+he called a halt before a warehouse where portmanteaus and travelling
+trunks were manufactured.
+
+Under a verandah in front of this warehouse were a number of trunks, a
+few of which bore on their lids the names or initials, newly painted
+in white, of the customers for whom they had been made. Two bore the
+same name, Signor Corsi, and it was these which had the greatest
+attraction for Dr. Vinsen. They were of large size and special make,
+far superior to the ordinary travelling trunk. Entering the warehouse,
+he came out presently accompanied by a man, either the proprietor or
+one of his salesmen, who opened one of the trunks and pointed out its
+exceptional features. It was of peculiar construction; the interior
+was padded, and there were receptacles lined with soft material, in
+which articles could be deposited with little fear of breakage. The
+interest which Dr. Vinsen took in the trunks and the long conversation
+between him and the salesman, whetted Gracie's curiosity, and she
+burned to know the why and the wherefore; but being compelled to keep
+at a safe distance, she could not hear a word that was spoken.
+Finally, Dr. Vinsen entered the warehouse again, and did not make his
+reappearance for twelve minutes by a clock in the shop near which she
+was lingering. He and the salesman stood chattering at the door for
+another minute or two, and it seemed to Gracie as if he had given an
+order, for he made an entry in his pocketbook; then he turned his face
+Kennington way and hailed a tramcar. Gracie scrambled up to the roof,
+where she opened her paper and read the report of the inquest up to
+the time of going to press. Folding the paper carefully, she put it in
+the bosom of her frock.
+
+Dr. Vinsen did not leave the tram till it had reached its terminus.
+This part of London was new to Gracie, and they were now some miles
+from Draper's Mews. "If he lives here," she thought, "it's a long way
+for him to come to us." That he did live there was proved by his
+stopping before a house of decent pretensions and opening the door
+with his own private latchkey. There was a little brass plate attached
+to the side of the door, and creeping past it Gracie read on it the
+name, "Ezra Lynn," and beneath it in smaller letters the announcement,
+"Sums of from AL5 to AL15,000 advanced at a low rate of interest on
+promissory note alone, without any sureties or security whatever, and
+without any beforehand charges. The strictest privacy and secrecy
+observed." Gracie's eyes dilated at the magnitude of the sum, AL15,000,
+and for a moment her idea was that Dr. Vinsen had gone into the house
+to borrow that amount; the next moment she fell to speculating upon
+the strange circumstance that Dr. Vinsen should possess a private
+latchkey to such an Aladdin's Cave. "I wonder!" she said to herself.
+It was sufficiently expressive for her understanding, but it went no
+farther in speech.
+
+She felt hungry, it being now past three o'clock, and she went into a
+baker's shop nearly opposite the house of Ezra Lynn and asked for a
+penny loaf. Behind the counter was a motherly woman with a baby in her
+arms. She gazed kindly at Gracie, and passed the crummiest penny loaf
+in her stock across the counter.
+
+"You seem tired, child," she said, stopping in the middle of a little
+nursery song she was singing to her baby.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am," said Gracie, digging a piece out of the loaf and
+smiling at the baby. Gracie was fond of babies.
+
+"And hungry," said the woman.
+
+"Yes, I _am_ hungry."
+
+"Wouldn't you like a bun better?"
+
+"This is more filling," said practical Gracie.
+
+"Dear heart, what a sensible little mite! And how dusty! You don't
+look very strong."
+
+"Ah, but I am; you mustn't go by looks," said Gracie, and encouraged
+by the woman's kind voice, she asked if she could have a glass of
+water.
+
+"You shall have a glass of milk," said the woman, going to an inner
+room and returning with it.
+
+"It's good of you," said Gracie, simply, "I'm ever so much obliged to
+you. May I eat my loaf here?"
+
+"Certainly, child, and sit down and rest."
+
+The chair she pointed to had its back to the window from which Ezra
+Lynn's house was visible; Gracie turned it round, so that she faced
+it. There she sat awhile, munching her bread and drinking her milk. A
+man came into the shop, poorly dressed, haggard, with distress in his
+face, and yet with a certain defiant independence in his manner.
+
+"Will you trust me half-a-quartern, missis?" he said, abruptly.
+
+The woman shook her head. "You're deep enough in my books already, Mr.
+Mildew, and I can't afford to let you get deeper. Charity begins at
+home."
+
+"And stops there," said the man. "All right. I thought I'd try. My
+heart's fairly broke trying to get work. It doesn't much matter. The
+kiddies must starve!" He turned to leave the shop.
+
+This touched Gracie's heart. She knew what poverty was; she knew what
+it was to want bread. "The kiddies must starve" fell upon her like a
+blow.
+
+Of the money which Dick had given to her she had only spent twopence
+in fares and a halfpenny for a paper, and she had more than
+half-a-crown left. "The kiddies must starve!" Not if she could help it.
+The price of bread was marked up in the shop window, "Fivepence per
+quartern, full weight." She put twopence halfpenny on the counter.
+
+"Please let him have the bread, ma'am."
+
+The man stared at her; the woman's face flushed.
+
+"Take your money back, child," she said. "You shall have the bread,
+Mr. Mildew: it won't break me."
+
+She weighed the loaf, which was short of two pounds; it needed a piece
+for make-weight, and, the fount of kindness open, she was not
+particular to an ounce.
+
+"Thank you, missis," said the man, "I'll pay you the first money I
+earn, though God knows where I'm to get work. And thank _you_, little
+'un; you don't live on the fat of the land, from the looks of you.
+I've got a girl about your size and weight at home." He repeated the
+word with savage emphasis. "Home! There'll be none to-morrow. Rent
+owing, money owing. Out into the streets we go. That's the law."
+
+"It's got to be obeyed, Mr. Mildew," said the woman. "It's hard lines,
+I own, but it's got to be obeyed. What does Mr. Lynn say? Won't he
+give you time?"
+
+"Not an hour, not a minute. He's sucked me dry, and sucked the last
+drop out of me. Him give time!--with the law on his side! I'd like to
+grind my heel into his face!"
+
+"You're not the only one," said the woman.
+
+"That's no comfort. Look here, missis, just cast your eye over
+this"--he pulled out a tattered penny account book--"it's all set down
+in plain figures. Twelve months ago--here's the date--he lent me four
+pounds, and took a bill of sale on my bits of sticks. I didn't get the
+four pounds--it was eighteen shillings short, for expenses and
+inquiries and interest in advance. Three pound two, that's as much as
+I got, and I had to pay half-a-crown a week for fifty-two weeks. If I
+was a week behindhand there was a fine of sixpence, which kept on
+being charged and put down against me till that week was paid up. It
+was all a muddle, and I don't pretend to understand it, but a mate of
+mine that's quick at reckoning has figured it out, and he says it
+comes to more than six hundred per cent, interest. All I know is that
+I've paid five pound ten for that three pound two I got from him, and
+now he makes out I owe him twice as much again. And the law gives him
+right. What I say is, damn the law, and them that made it, and them
+that fatten on it!"
+
+It was pitiable to witness the passion and the helplessness of the
+man.
+
+Gracie, listening to this tale of wrong-doing, and never losing sight
+of Ezra Lynn's door, saw it opened, and saw a man come from the house,
+a thin, slinking, sly-faced man in rusty black, whom she supposed to
+be Ezra Lynn; but she was presently undeceived.
+
+"There's his jackal," said the man in the baker's shop, "that collects
+for him, and grinds the poor chaps down that's drawn into his mill.
+Grinds 'em down, blood, bones, heart, and soul. Mr. Lynn's too grand
+now to do the small dirty work himself. It was different once I've
+been told, missis."
+
+"Yes," said the woman, "I remember when Mr. Lynn first set up as a
+money-lender in the neighbourhood; they say he started with a hundred
+pounds, but a man like that, who wouldn't step aside to save a human
+creature's life, soon grows rich."
+
+"He's worse than the lowest pickpocket," said the man "I've heard he
+could set up his carriage, if he liked. He's got big fish to look
+after now; he leaves his jackal to look after the sprats."
+
+"I warned you, you know," said the woman, "when you told me you were
+getting a loan from him."
+
+"I know you did, but I had a child to bury, and I couldn't get the
+money anywhere else. Then my missis fell ill----"
+
+He broke off suddenly. "I've had my share of trouble, I think."
+
+"That you have, and I'm sorry for you. You're not the first by many a
+score that that man's ruined. And to talk to him you wouldn't believe
+that he'd pull a leg off a fly."
+
+"If it wasn't for the law," said the man, morosely, "I'd have his
+blood!"
+
+The door on the opposite side of the road opened again, and Dr. Vinsen
+appeared on the threshold, buttoning his glove; a look of hate and
+fear darkened the man's features.
+
+"You'd hardly believe there was so much wickedness under that smooth
+face of his," said the woman.
+
+"Smooth face, black heart," muttered the man, leaving the shop
+hurriedly, and crossing over to Dr. Vinsen.
+
+Gracie rose and made a step towards the door; she dared not leave the
+shop, for Dr. Vinsen stood immediately facing it. Her heart was
+beating violently, but her face was quite composed.
+
+"Who is that gentleman, ma'am?" she asked.
+
+"That's the man we've been speaking of," the woman replied, "Mr. Ezra
+Lynn. I don't call him a gentleman myself."
+
+"Would you mind telling me," continued Gracie, "if you know Dr.
+Vinsen?"
+
+"Vinsen--Vinsen," said the woman, considering. "I never heard the
+name. I don't think he lives in this neighbourhood. Bless my soul!
+What's the child after?"
+
+Gracie had dashed out of the shop. She had seen Mr. Mildew approach
+Dr. Vinsen and accost him; she had seen Dr. Vinsen smile and shake his
+head; she had seen the man raise his fist, as if he were about to
+strike, and then, afraid that his passion might carry him too far,
+turn quickly upon his heel and walk away; she had seen Dr. Vinsen hail
+a hansom cab and get into it; and it was then that she ran out of the
+shop. Off rattled the cab, and Gracie after it. A couple of hundred
+yards, and her breath was gone, and the cab out of sight.
+
+"It's a good job I didn't catch up to it," said Gracie, panting on the
+kerb. "He might have seen me, and all the fat would be in the fire.
+I've got something to tell Dick. We'll make Scotland Yard sit up. But
+what does it all mean--what does it all mean?"
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LI.
+
+                            A DEAD LOCK.
+
+
+"The Little Busy Bee" and the other evening papers were kept very busy
+that afternoon. So far as the examination of the witnesses and the
+Coroner's address were concerned, the inquest was over, and it had
+been expected that the verdict would soon be delivered; but although
+the jury had been deliberating (some persons declared squabbling)
+since three o'clock, and it was now past five, no verdict was yet
+returned. It was rumoured that there was a serious difference of
+opinion between them on more than one point, and it was certain that
+they had obstinately refused to be guided by the Coroner, whose
+authority they set at naught. In vain did he argue, remonstrate, and
+expostulate with them; in vain did he draw up the form of verdict
+which he said it was their duty to deliver; they refused point blank
+to sign the paper.
+
+Animated discussions took place as to what the verdict would be, and
+so keen is the love of sport in the British mind that odds were laid
+on this or that conclusion. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd was first favourite; two to one on it. A verdict of Murder
+against some person or persons unknown was second favourite, six to
+four against it. A verdict of Murder against Mr. Abel Death, fifty to
+one against it. The names and the odds were freely bandied about, and
+there were many persons who discussed them with a light, not to say
+jovial, air; while Reginald and Florence, and Aunt and Uncle Rob
+awaited the result with feelings it is not difficult to imagine.
+Quick to take advantage of opportunity, the newspapers poured out
+edition after edition, seizing upon the most trivial incidents as
+headline-pegs upon which to hang their ingenious vapourings.
+
+"At half-past four," records "The Little Busy Bee," "the Coroner again
+asked the jury whether there was any special or knotty point upon
+which they needed information or direction. The foreman replied that
+they did not need direction in matters of fact, but that there was a
+difference of opinion among the jury, who held such strong views upon
+certain aspects of the case, that it was doubtful whether any definite
+verdict would be arrived at.
+
+"The Coroner: 'There must be a verdict of some kind. I presume there is
+no doubt in your minds that a murder has been committed?'
+
+"The Foreman: 'None whatever. We are agreed upon that.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'You know the common form. A verdict of Murder against
+some person or persons unknown would obviate the difficulty.'
+
+"The Juror: 'It would not. I have followed the case very carefully,
+and have come to a conclusion.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'You are open to reason, I hope.'
+
+"The Juror: 'As open as yourself, Mr. Coroner, and, strange as you may
+think it, I claim to possess an average intelligence. Throughout the
+whole of this inquiry it has been forced upon me that there has been
+far too much dictation.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'At whose hands, sir?'
+
+"The Juror: 'At yours, Mr. Coroner. You have treated us like a flock
+of sheep, and I, for one, object to be driven.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'I pass over the want of respect you show in your manner
+of addressing me. Gentlemen, in my long service as Coroner this is an
+entirely new experience, and I greatly regret it. In view of the
+serious differences of opinion between you, it is advisable that you
+take your law from me.'
+
+"The Juror: 'I shall not. I stand upon common sense.'
+
+"The Coroner: 'Gentlemen, this is foreign to the duty you are called
+upon to perform. Continue your deliberations, and arrive at your
+verdict as expeditiously as the interests of justice will allow.'
+
+"It would be obviously improper," said "The Little Busy Bee," "at this
+stage of the inquiry, to make any comments upon this very unusual
+scene. When the verdict is given we shall have something to say upon
+the rights and privileges of coroners and juries, which seem to be
+imperfectly understood."
+
+One of the most conspicuous headlines in the journals now was,
+"Deadlock among the Jury on the Catchpole Square Murder." It was weary
+waiting for the parties vitally interested in the result. Florence and
+Aunt Rob entreated Reginald to leave the Court, but he refused, and
+Uncle Rob upheld him. "Reginald must remain till it is over," he said.
+He suspected that Reginald would be followed by the police if he went
+away.
+
+Meanwhile, news of the rewards offered by Reginald for the discovery
+of the murderer and of Abel Death had become widely known, and was
+freely discussed. And upon the top of this came another piece of news.
+All over London billstickers were pasting offers of another reward
+offered by Lady Wharton's lawyers for the discovery of her jewels, of
+which a detailed list was printed in the bills. Advertisements were
+also inserted in the evening journals to the same effect. So the
+excitement was fed and kept up.
+
+Once, when Uncle Rob went from the court to get a little fresh air,
+Detective Lambert came up and spoke to him.
+
+"A long job," he said.
+
+"A wickedly long job," responded Uncle Rob.
+
+"I saw your nephew this morning," said Lambert, "sticking up the
+reward bills. He's the kind of chap that nothing comes amiss to; an
+all-round sort of chap; can turn his hand to anything. Just think of a
+young fellow like that turning bill-sticker. Not at all a bad move.
+It's a lumping reward, AL500. Do you know what he said to me? 'Why not
+earn it?' says he, and says it as if he meant it."
+
+"He wouldn't have said it if he hadn't meant it."
+
+"Will it be paid?"
+
+"If it's earned," replied Uncle Rob, "and I hope to God it soon will
+be!"
+
+"Ah," said Lambert, and gave his brother officer a covert, sidelong
+look. "See here, Robson. We had a private talk together, and I made
+you a promise."
+
+"Yes, you did," said Uncle Rob, and accustomed as he ought to have
+been, as an inspector of police, to strange surprises, there was a
+flutter at his heart. But then it was a beloved daughter's happiness
+that was at stake.
+
+"I promised to give you timely notice," continued Lambert, "when
+something was going to happen."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I never go from my word. Something _is_ going to happen. I'm only
+waiting here till the verdict's given, and then----"
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Your son-in-law's in Court, facing it like a man," said Lambert,
+branching off, "and I admire him for it. Supposing the verdict runs,
+'some person or persons unknown,' he'll be coming out with the ladies
+on his way home when the sheet's signed."
+
+"Yes, he will; and if it runs the other way?"
+
+"Meaning if it's brought against him by name?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Well, then, of course he'll be prepared."
+
+"He's prepared for anything, Lambert; he's made up his mind to it: so
+have we all." Uncle Rob spoke in a sad tone; these two men perfectly
+understood each other, though the meaning of what they said would not
+have been clear to a stranger.
+
+"Step aside, Robson," said Lambert, and his voice was friendly, "and
+let us talk as if it was the weather we were interested in. Cloudy
+to-day, fine to-morrow; there's no telling what changes to expect in
+such a blessed climate as ours. So it is with human nature; up to-day,
+down to-morrow, and the other way round. All's well that ends well,
+eh?"
+
+"Yes," said Uncle Rob, mechanically.
+
+"Prepared for anything he is," Lambert went on. "I call that sensible
+and manly; but he's been that all through. So what I say is, to save a
+scene, wouldn't it be a good thing to get your wife and daughter out
+of the way?"
+
+"How?"
+
+"Well, by letting them go home by themselves. When two women are
+together like that, with trouble ahead, they're a comfort to each
+other. They must be tired out of their lives sitting in that stuffy
+court all day. A pair of bricks I call them; I should be proud, I
+should indeed, Robson, if they were my wife and daughter. Proud you
+must be of them--in a melancholy way, as things are, but that's
+natural under the circumstances. Wheedle them home, Robson, and let us
+get the business over quietly."
+
+Uncle Rob knew what was meant by "the business." "It's decided upon,
+then," he said.
+
+"Yes, and I've got the warrant in my pocket."
+
+"Whatever the verdict is?"
+
+"Whatever the verdict is."
+
+"Is there anything against him," asked Uncle Rob, with a sinking
+heart, "beyond what has come out in the inquest?"
+
+"Nothing; but that is supposed to be enough to commence with. Get the
+ladies away quietly, just whisper a word to him, and we'll walk along
+as comfortably as possible, and no one the wiser. I've kept it snug on
+purpose for your sake."
+
+"It's kind of you, but there's no getting the women away; they'll not
+make a scene," said Uncle Rob, huskily; he was thinking of Florence.
+"We've talked it over among ourselves, and I think it would alter your
+opinion if you could have heard my son-in-law this morning."
+
+"How do you know what my opinion is?" asked Lambert, in his most
+leisurely manner.
+
+"I _don't_ know. We couldn't help seeing the way the case was going,
+and if it could be done in a lawful and legal way, Reginald would not
+wait to be brought before a judge. He would go himself and say, 'What
+have you got against me? Here I am, ready to answer it.'"
+
+"But it can't be done that way. There's a settled form to go through,
+and we must abide by it. Well, I've given my advice, and it's a pity
+the ladies should be present, but if you say it can't be helped, well,
+it can't be, and there's an end of it. What do you think about giving
+them a hint beforehand. It'll break the shock."
+
+"Yes, I might do that," said Uncle Rob.
+
+He looked up into Lambert's face; he could do that, being the shorter
+man by two inches. He was well acquainted with Lambert's character,
+and knew that he was kindly disposed towards him, but there was so
+much more consideration evinced for his feelings than he could
+reasonably have expected that it seemed to him as if Lambert was
+keeping something in the background. Lambert returned his gaze
+steadily and impenetrably, and passed his hand over his chin with more
+than his customary thoughtfulness, but there was nothing in that
+action to enlighten Uncle Rob as to what was passing in his mind.
+Still he was emboldened to say,
+
+"Speaking as we are in confidence, is there anything behind this,
+Lambert, that would bring hope and comfort to my wife and daughter?"
+
+Lambert's hand travelled from his chin to his under lip, which he
+softly pinched as caressingly as if he were smoothing a favourite cat.
+
+"Why shouldn't she hope?" he said. "What's going to be done is only
+what might be expected. If her husband wasn't prepared for it of
+course it would be different, but as it is----" He seemed to think the
+uncompleted sentence sufficiently expressive, for he did not finish
+it.
+
+"You'll wait till the verdict's given?" said Uncle Rob.
+
+"I'll wait a reasonable time; I can't say more than that, because I
+shouldn't be surprised--and don't you be--if something happens that I
+can't call to mind has ever happened before in a murder inquest, and
+that is, that the jury will either give no verdict at all, or will
+give one that the Coroner will refuse to accept. There's a man among
+them who's bent upon having his own way, and that will stick out like
+grim death if he can't bring the others to his way of thinking. He's a
+kind of animal not often met with on juries, but there he is, and has
+to be reckoned with. A curious point, isn't it? But you can make up
+your mind to one thing. So far as justice is concerned there will be
+no dead lock. I've got hold of the reins, and I'll see to that."
+
+Uncle Rob searched his mind for a clue, and did not find it. Lambert's
+voice was resolute and stern, and he was about to arrest a man to save
+whose life Uncle Rob would have laid down his own; and yet here he was
+unbosoming himself in a friendly and confiding way to the very person
+against whose happiness he was conspiring. It would have taken a wiser
+head than Uncle Rob's to solve the enigma. What Lambert said next did
+not help to make matters clearer.
+
+"And don't take it too much to heart," he said, with a soothing pat on
+Uncle Rob's shoulder. "I know what I'm about, so don't take it too
+much to heart. It's the advice of a friend, Robson."
+
+"There's cold comfort in it when the charge is murder, and a man's
+life is hanging to it," said Uncle Rob.
+
+"Perhaps so, perhaps so, if you look at it only from the outside; but
+there's another view."
+
+"What is it?"
+
+"That's _my_ secret. When I let it out you'll see what I'm driving at.
+I've done one or two things in my time, and this will be the climax."
+He smacked his lips with a relish, and repeated, "The climax. I put it
+to you, Robson, old man, whether it isn't better that the arrest
+should be made by a friendly hand than by the hand of a stranger? I'm
+not the only one who's itching to get the credit of clearing up a
+mystery that's set all London ringing; and we're not half done with it
+yet, not half done. It's a feather in one's cap to be mixed up with
+it." He rubbed his hands. "No wonder others are keen upon it, but
+there's only one man in England that's got his finger on the pulse of
+the mystery, and that's the man that's talking to you now, and taking
+you, in a manner of speaking, into his confidence."
+
+"And that is why you are going to arrest my son-in-law," said Uncle
+Rob, rather bitterly.
+
+"And that is why," said Lambert, cheerfully, "I am going to arrest
+your son-in-law on the charge of murdering his father, Mr. Samuel
+Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Before long you'll be shaking me by the
+hand, and thanking me for what I'm doing."
+
+"Then you don't believe him guilty?" said Uncle Rob, eagerly.
+
+"Don't ask me for opinions. I've been open with you for old times'
+sake, but my opinions, for the present, I keep to myself." He looked
+at his watch. "What time are you due at the station, Robson."
+
+"I must be there within the hour. I wish I'd resigned, or asked to be
+suspended."
+
+"The worst move you could have made. Duty's duty. There was a Roman
+father once--I don't remember his name--that sent his own son to
+execution, and looked on while it was done."
+
+"What do you mean?" asked Uncle Rob. His voice trembled, his fingers
+twined convulsively.
+
+"It's plain enough," said Lambert, half roughly. "You're on night duty
+at Bishop Street Station."
+
+"And the charge will be laid there!" cried Uncle Rob, a cold
+perspiration breaking out on his forehead.
+
+"It's in the district; it's the nearest station. There's no help for
+it; I wish there was."
+
+"They'll never forgive me, never!" said Uncle Rob. "My own child,
+Lambert, my own child! To strike a death blow at my own child!"
+
+"Who's talking of death blows? Pull yourself together. It's better so;
+you can make things easier for him. As for forgiveness, they're not
+the women I take them for if they harbour a thought against you.
+They're true grit, that's what they are."
+
+"There's something going on in Court."
+
+They hurried in together, and were present at another altercation
+between Coroner and jury, the leading actors in it being, as before,
+the Coroner and the recalcitrant juror. From the flushed faces of the
+jurymen it was evident that there had been a heated discussion.
+Finally the Coroner proposed to take the verdict of the majority, and
+another difficulty presented itself.
+
+"There's no majority," said the foreman, who appeared to be the most
+helpless of the party. "As a matter of fact we are split into three
+camps of equal numbers, and no one will give way."
+
+"Is there no possibility of your agreeing?" inquired the Coroner.
+
+"If we were locked up for a week," replied the foreman, "I don't
+believe we should agree."
+
+"Well," said the Coroner, with a motion as if he were giving up the
+thing in despair, "let me know in plain terms how the matter stands,
+and I will see what can be done."
+
+"We will put it down in writing," said the foreman.
+
+Thereupon the jury retired, and after a lapse of twenty minutes or so
+returned with three documents, which were handed to the Coroner. They
+revealed an extraordinary state of affairs.
+
+The first, signed by four jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful Murder
+against some person or persons unknown.
+
+The second, signed by four other jurymen, was a verdict of Wilful
+Murder against Abel Death.
+
+When this was read out a shriek rang through the court, and Mrs.
+Death, starting to her feet, screamed in wild tones,
+
+"You wicked liars! You liars! You wicked liars!"
+
+With great difficulty she was silenced, and restrained from rushing to
+the spot where the jurymen were clustered together.
+
+The third document, signed by other four jurymen, was a verdict of
+Wilful Murder against Reginald Boyd.
+
+"Do you present these to me in all seriousness?" asked the Coroner.
+
+"They are the conclusions arrived at by the jury," replied the Juror.
+"With eight of my colleagues I do not agree, but for all that I have
+not hectored them."
+
+"Your conduct during this inquiry is open to severe censure," said the
+Coroner, "and you strangely misapprehend your duty. Gentlemen, you
+have presented me with three separate verdicts, which you must have
+known I cannot accept. The dissensions which have arisen amongst you
+are deeply regrettable, and I tell you plainly you have not served the
+cause of justice. I have placed before you a form of verdict which
+would meet the general view of the case, and leave the matter open to
+the proper authorities. You have declined to be guided by me, and I am
+afraid it would be useless to argue any longer with you. What do you
+say, Mr. Foreman?"
+
+"From the differences that exist between us, sir, quite useless,"
+replied the foreman.
+
+"The position is a difficult one, and I must take time to consider it.
+I regret, gentlemen, that I cannot discharge you from your labours,
+but that is no fault of mine. You will attend this court next Thursday
+morning at eleven o'clock. By that time, perhaps, something may
+transpire which will settle your doubts--which I trust," he added,
+"are conscientious doubts."
+
+The announcement that their labours were not at an end was received by
+the jury with murmurs of dissatisfaction.
+
+"The remedy lies with yourselves," said the Coroner. "In a criminal
+court where the jury disagree, the case may be put back and tried
+again before a fresh jury, but this cannot be done in a Coroner's
+Court. Before I finally discharge you, you will have to return a
+verdict. You will be here this day week punctually at eleven o'clock
+in the morning."
+
+The court then broke up.
+
+There were still a great many spectators who had waited in the
+expectation that a verdict would be delivered, and they filed out
+slowly, eagerly discussing the position of affairs, one man declaring
+that the Catchpole Square Mystery, from first to last, was nothing but
+a series of the most startling sensations, adding, "And I'm greatly
+mistaken if there's not more to come." He rolled this round his
+tongue, as if it were a delectable morsel. Detective Lambert, without
+seeming to notice Reginald, was almost the first to leave the court,
+and he stood outside, smoothing his chin, a target for all eyes, for
+his fame had travelled far and wide, and it was already rumoured that
+he had "taken up" the Catchpole Square Mystery. Two or three of the
+jurymen still lingered within the court, and glanced with curiosity at
+the Robson group and at Mrs. Death, whose state of agitation it was
+pitiable to witness. Now she beat the air with her trembling hands,
+now she clasped them convulsively, while inarticulate words of protest
+dropped from her quivering lips. All these persons moved slowly to the
+door of the courthouse.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LII.
+
+                         ARRESTED FOR MURDER.
+
+
+"A moment, Reginald," said Uncle Rob, in a low tone, laying his hand
+on the young man's arm.
+
+As the men fell back a pace or two they came face to face with Mrs.
+Death. In his heart Reginald believed Abel Death to be innocent, and
+even in the midst of his own trouble he would have addressed a word of
+comfort to her, but she, distracted by grief and indignant horror,
+held up her hands as if to ward him off, and brushed past him into the
+open. She had been present during the whole of the inquest, but her
+mind was in too agitated a state to pay close attention to any of the
+evidence except those parts which affected her husband, and she had
+therefore, until she heard the Coroner's address to the jury, missed
+the significance of the contradiction she had given to the statement
+of Dr. Pye as to the hour he had seen a man come from Samuel Boyd's
+house in Catchpole Square. In justice to her it must be said that even
+if she had recognised it when she was under examination she would not
+have withheld it, for she was a fair-minded woman, and was still
+grateful for the kindness the young man had once shown them. But it
+seemed to her now that in weakening the case against Reginald she had
+strengthened it against her husband, and it was this that caused her
+to reject with horror the advances which Reginald had made towards
+her.
+
+"She believes me guilty," thought Reginald, as she disappeared through
+the door of the court; and then, turning to Uncle Rob, he said, "What
+is it?"
+
+"Detective Lambert is waiting outside," said Uncle Rob in a low tone.
+
+"For me?"
+
+"For you."
+
+Reginald could not help being startled, though he had been all day
+inwardly preparing himself. Stepping to Aunt Rob's side he said, in a
+tone of assumed lightness, "We are full of secrets just now. I have
+one for you; Florence won't mind." Drawing her away he whispered,
+"Take Florence home."
+
+He had not time to say more, for Florence, although she had not heard
+what had passed had caught its sense, and she now glided swiftly to
+his side, and clung close to his arm.
+
+"Go home, dearest," he said. "I am going to walk with your father to
+the station."
+
+"We will walk with you," said Florence, and then in an imploring tone,
+"Do not send me away from you till the last moment!"
+
+"Why, Florence, my love," said Reginald, as if in surprise, but here
+Aunt Rob interposed.
+
+"There must be no more secrets. Don't keep anything from us, father.
+Tell us the worst; we can bear it."
+
+Uncle Rob looked at Reginald, who nodded, and passed his arm round
+Florence's waist.
+
+"Lambert has been talking to me," said Uncle Rob; "he has behaved very
+considerately, and asked me to break it to you." His voice faltered.
+"He has a warrant for Reginald's arrest. Courage, my dears, courage!"
+
+This little party, at whom so terrible a blow was dealt, now stood
+apart and alone, and what they said could be heard only by themselves.
+Aunt Rob drew a long breath.
+
+"It's what we've been waiting for," she said, "and it had to come.
+Reginald will face it like a man, and will fling the lie into their
+faces. Keep a stout heart, my lad."
+
+"If I suffer," he replied, "it is because of the grief I have brought
+into my dear Florence's life."
+
+"It is not a grief of your creating, dear," said Florence, "and you
+have brought nothing into my life which has not strengthened my love
+for you. I put my trust in God." She bent down, and pressed her lips
+upon his hand; the night had fallen, and those at a distance could not
+see the action. "Oh, my dear, my dear! He will not allow the innocent
+to suffer."
+
+"Be brave, for my sake, dearest."
+
+"I will be. I am." And in her heart was the prayer, "God shield my
+beloved! God protect him!"
+
+They issued into the open air, and stood by Lambert's side in silence.
+The only movement he made was to beckon to a constable, and,
+whispering a few words to him, to point somewhat conspicuously to the
+juror who had shown himself so inimical to Reginald. All the other
+jurymen had taken their departure; this man alone was waiting.
+
+If Lambert's aim was to arouse in him the aggressive spirit of which
+he had given frequent instances during the inquest, it was gained, for
+the juror walked up to the detective, and inquired if he had pointed
+at him with any particular design, and if so, what it was and what he
+meant by it. Lambert stroked his chin and did not answer.
+
+"The road's free to all, I suppose," pursued the man, nettled at
+Lambert's silence; his voice was loud and offensive.
+
+"Now you mention it," observed Lambert, slowly considering the
+proposition, "it is."
+
+"I thought so," said the man, and was at a loss what next to say, for
+Lambert had fallen into a meditative mood, and to feel for a pimple on
+his chin seemed to be of assistance to him.
+
+The appearance of another person upon the scene, who halted, however,
+at a distance of a dozen yards or so, with her black eyes fixed upon
+the juror, was not noticed by any of them, except perhaps by the
+meditative detective.
+
+"Move on," said the constable whom Lambert had addressed, and some
+idlers, who had shown a disposition to linger, sauntered away. The
+juror held his ground, but was not at his ease, for he felt that
+Lambert's eye was on him, and to be thus meditatively observed by an
+imperturbable detective was enough to make any man uneasy. Presently
+Lambert roused himself from his brown study.
+
+"Which direction are you going to take?" he said to the Juror.
+
+"Why do you want to know?" asked the man.
+
+"Because I will take the other, and I've a hundred things to attend
+to."
+
+"Who's hindering you?"
+
+"You, Mr. Rawdon. That's your name, I believe."
+
+"I'm not ashamed of it," said Mr. Rawdon, with a slight start.
+
+"Why should you be?" remarked Lambert quietly. "It's the name you were
+born to. I'm not ashamed of mine; to tell you the truth, I'm rather
+proud of it. What we've got to do with our names, whether we like 'em
+or not, is to make 'em a credit to ourselves and our families. And
+we're born, not only to names that stick to us, but to tempers that
+stick to us. Now, when I see a man showing a nasty temper, I cast
+about in my mind for something that will soothe his ruffled feelings.
+That's what I've been thinking about. 'What can I do,' says I to
+myself, 'that will soothe Mr. Rawdon's ruffled feelings?' And it's
+come over me to put it in the shape of a question, if you've no
+objection."
+
+"Let's hear what it is," said Mr. Rawdon, upon whom the detective's
+words did not seem to have a soothing effect.
+
+"It's a question," continued Lambert, "that I wouldn't put to you
+publicly if it wasn't that we're playing a sort of game, you and me, a
+sort of trying to tire one another out, because, you know, Mr. Rawdon,
+there's many a thing in a man's life he'd prefer to keep to himself.
+As for tiring me out, you couldn't do it, Mr. Rawdon. It's well known
+that Detective Lambert is the most patient man in the whole police
+force, and it's well known, too, that he never mixes himself up with
+other people's private affairs unless he has the best of reasons for
+it."
+
+"Aren't you losing sight of your question?" asked Mr. Rawdon sullenly.
+
+"No, I'm not; I'm coming to it; but I'm naturally a slow man--slow
+_and_ sure. It's happened on occasions that I've been a long time
+taking aim; but then I never miss; and I never do anything
+definite--anything definite, mind--or say anything definite (which is
+what I'm going to say now), without a motive. Now, _do_ you understand
+that?" No voice could be more persuasive than that in which he
+explained himself to Mr. Rawdon.
+
+"Oh, I understand it," said that individual.
+
+"And so could a blind dog, if it was put to him forcible. It eases my
+mind; I give you my word, it eases my mind. Pay particular attention
+to the question, Mr. Rawdon: there's a lot hanging to it that the
+present company--my friend Inspector Robson and his good wife, and my
+friend Mr. Reginald Boyd and _his_ good wife--haven't the slightest
+understanding of. Which makes it all the more comfortable for you and
+me, because it's between us. Are you ready, Mr. Rawdon?"
+
+"Quite ready, Mr. Lambert."
+
+"Well, then. What is the amount of the judgment obtained against you
+by Mr. Ezra Lynn, how much do you owe him altogether, and what
+arrangement has lately been made between you? And if that's three
+questions instead of one I hope you'll excuse me."
+
+So saying, Detective Lambert rubbed his chin, and shed a genial smile
+upon Mr. Rawdon, whose perturbation was so great that he seemed to be
+deprived of the power of speech.
+
+"If you want time to chew it over," continued Lambert, "take time.
+There's been many a knotty point raised in this inquiry into the
+Catchpole Square Mystery; one or two more or less won't matter much.
+Take your time, Mr. Rawdon, take your time. Go home and chew it over."
+
+In obedience to a motion of his eyebrows imperceptible to all but the
+constable, that official bustled forward with his "Move on, please,
+move on"; and as though he were glad of an excuse to set his limbs in
+motion Mr. Rawdon moved slowly away, in the opposite direction to the
+Bishop Street Police Station. The other person, little Gracie, who had
+been watching the group, moved stealthily after him, and in a moment
+or two the man and the girl had turned the corner of the street.
+
+Lambert smiled in self-approval, and the next moment became grave as
+he touched Reginald on the arm. "Now, Mr. Boyd."
+
+Florence quivered as though she had been stung, but instantly
+recovered herself.
+
+"I am at your disposal, Mr. Lambert," said Reginald. "You have a
+warrant for my arrest."
+
+"I have; and I'll read it to you at the Bishop Street Police Station.
+I would take you to another, but as I've already explained to the
+Inspector it is the proper station to take you to, as the charge will
+have to be heard at the Bishop Street Police Court."
+
+"Will it be heard to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow. It will be merely formal, and there'll be a remand, for a
+week I should say. That is what will be asked for. I am acting under
+instructions." He turned to Florence and Aunt Rob. "I hope you'll not
+take it amiss, ladies. Duty's duty, and it's hard to do sometimes. Mr.
+Boyd and I will walk quietly to the station with Inspector Robson.
+I'll keep people off while you say good-bye." He turned his back to
+them, from motives of delicacy, and to serve as a screen.
+
+"Would there be any objection, Mr. Lambert," said Aunt Rob, "to our
+walking with him as far as the station?" She spoke stiffly and
+severely: despite the manifest friendliness of the detective she could
+not forgive him.
+
+"None in the world, if you wish it."
+
+"We do wish it," said Florence, timidly.
+
+"Give an arm to the ladies," said Lambert to Reginald. "The Inspector
+and I will walk on behind. You would hardly believe it, but at this
+time every Thursday night I get a singing in my ears that makes me
+quite deaf. An old complaint; had it from childhood; it comes on
+suddenly; I've got it now."
+
+He fell back with Uncle Rob, and no person meeting them would have
+supposed that a man was being arrested for murder. Within two or three
+hundred yards of Bishop Street Dick ran up to them, and he saw
+immediately what was transpiring.
+
+"You have come in good time, Dick," said Reginald, pressing the
+friendly hand. "Florence and Aunt Rob have no one to take them home.
+You see what is going on." Dick nodded. "Now that the suspense is over
+I feel relieved. I have something to face, and I can speak out
+boldly."
+
+"He must have a lawyer, Dick," said Aunt Rob.
+
+"It is being attended to, aunt."
+
+"I would have preferred to defend myself," said Reginald, "but I
+suppose it would be unwise."
+
+"It would be folly," said Dick. "I saw your solicitor this afternoon,
+and we have agreed upon the barrister, Mr. Edward Pallaret. He ranks
+high, and is generally on the right side."
+
+"On the just side, Dick."
+
+"That is what I meant, aunt."
+
+"Did you expect this, that you have gone so far?" she asked.
+
+"I have been expecting it all along. Is Lambert acting on his own
+responsibility?"
+
+"No, under instructions, he says."
+
+"Ah. Do you approve of Mr. Pallaret, Reginald?"
+
+"Yes. He is an honourable man."
+
+"He is; and a man that judges and magistrates listen to with respect.
+That is not the case with all lawyers. There are black sheep among
+them that damn a case the moment their names appear in it. I have a
+pair of solicitors in my mind now, a couple of sharp, sneaking
+scoundrels who never yet have had the handling of a reputable case.
+Mr. Lamb is not a very eminent solicitor, but he is a respectable man,
+and it was he who suggested Mr. Pallaret. Don't be faint-hearted,
+Reginald; we'll pull you out of this with flying colours. Have any of
+you seen little Gracie Death to-day?"
+
+No, none of them had seen her.
+
+"She'll be at your house to-night, aunt, with news, perhaps. Here we
+are at the station."
+
+He made a secret motion to his uncle as they entered, and saying to
+the others that they would join them presently, he and the Inspector
+retired to a small room at the back of the office, where the latter
+kept his accoutrements, which he now proceeded to put on for the sad
+duties of the night.
+
+"Do you remember the talk we had together, Dick," said the Inspector
+mournfully, "on the night of the fog, when Mrs. Abel Death came in
+with her little girl, and told us of the disappearance of her husband.
+We argued it out together, and the thought of a murder done was in our
+minds. It's little more than a week ago, and it seems a year. We
+didn't think it would come to this."
+
+To Dick, also, it seemed as if months had passed instead of days, and
+as if he himself were a different being. Aimless, purposeless, then,
+with no object in life to lift him out of the lethargic state into
+which he had fallen, the hours now were all too short for the strange
+and desperate task to which he had set his hand, the strangest and
+most hazardous part of which had yet to be performed.
+
+"Lambert speaks fair," continued the Inspector, "but you are the rock
+upon which we must lean for safety. Oh, Dick, my lad, save my Florence
+if you can from life-long misery!"
+
+"I'm bound to do it, uncle," said Dick, "or sink. Something whispers
+to me that I shall succeed. And now let me tell you--I may not have
+another opportunity. I'm going to see Florence and Aunt Rob home,
+where I've asked little Gracie to come and have a chat with me. After
+to-night it's on the cards that I shall disappear----"
+
+"Disappear!" cried the Inspector, catching his nephew by the arm.
+
+"Hush! They must not hear us. I mean that neither you nor they will
+know where I am for a few days. There will be a notice stuck up on the
+house in Catchpole Square to the effect that all inquiries for me are
+to be made at your house, and that all letters for me are to be left
+there. If any inquiries are made, tell Aunt Rob and Florence that
+they're to say they are expecting me home at any moment, and don't
+know where I have gone to. Nothing more than that. I must leave this
+to you, for I cannot confide in them. I am bound to keep my secret,
+and I could not answer the questions they would put to me in their
+anxiety."
+
+"But, Dick----"
+
+Dick held up his hand. "There isn't a step I've taken in this affair
+that hasn't been taken with only one end in view, the end we are all
+praying for, and perhaps there are things I've kept from you because
+it would never have done to tell them to a police inspector. There was
+your duty as a public officer, and there were your feelings as a
+father. Would it have been right of me to bring these into conflict?"
+
+"I see that, my lad, I see that, and it has been a torture to me."
+
+"Look me in the face, uncle." He moved into the light, so that it
+could be clearly seen. "Is it an honest face?"
+
+"Yes, my lad."
+
+"A face you can trust?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Then trust it, and act as I desire. You ask me to save Florence from
+misery, and, with God's help and my own wits, that's what I feel I
+_shall_ do if I'm left free to follow out my plans. If I am hampered
+in any way Reginald will lose his best defender. I've been in danger
+once to-day, and my wits saved me. We must get back to them, or
+they'll be suspecting something. If you are satisfied with what I've
+said, uncle, give me your hand."
+
+They clasped hands, and returned to the front office. Inspector Robson
+stiffened himself, and walked to his desk. Then Lambert, who held the
+warrant in his hand, read it aloud, but in a low tone, and advised
+Reginald to say nothing.
+
+"I am not afraid to speak," Reginald answered, with a proud, defiant
+look. "Until my innocence is proved I will proclaim it to all the
+world."
+
+"Well said, my son," said Aunt Rob.
+
+Inspector Robson did not utter a word, but with a set face entered the
+charge. Then Detective Lambert bade the Inspector good night, and
+passed out of the scene. He offered no good-bye greeting to the
+others, and seemingly took no notice of Aunt Rob's action when she
+held her skirts aside, so that he should not touch them. It was not in
+her heart to forgive him for the part he had played.
+
+When all the formalities were concluded Florence and Reginald, clasped
+in each other's arms, exchanged tender words of comfort and hope.
+
+"God bless you, my beloved husband," said the girl-wife. "He will make
+your innocence clear."
+
+"I have no fears," said Reginald. "God preserve you?"
+
+"Good night, my son," said Aunt Rob.
+
+There was not a tear in their eyes; each strove by outward calmness to
+sustain the other in this bitter trial. Inspector Robson never raised
+his eyes from the charge sheet.
+
+"Take care of her, Dick," said Reginald.
+
+"Trust to me, Reginald," said Dick, with a bright smile.
+
+So they left him, and proceeded through the dimly lighted streets to
+Aunt Rob's house, and there they found Gracie waiting outside for
+Dick.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LIII.
+
+             GRACIE RELATES THE STORY OF HER ADVENTURES.
+
+
+"Any news, Gracie," asked Dick.
+
+"Lots," replied Gracie.
+
+"About which one?"
+
+"Both of 'em."
+
+Aunt Rob, with an air of determination, seized Gracie's hand. "Come
+in, child, and tell us all about it," she said.
+
+Gracie made no resistance, but looked at Dick for instructions.
+
+"The fact is, aunt," he said, "Gracie and I have started on a voyage
+of discovery, and this is a little matter of business between us."
+
+"The fact is," said Aunt Rob, sternly, "that there's been too many
+little matters of business between this one and that one, and too many
+secrets that are kept from them who have the best call to know them,
+and whose hearts are pretty nigh broken by being kept in the dark.
+It's time it came to an end. What do you mean by your voyage of
+discovery? Perhaps you think, because we're quiet and still, and don't
+break into fits of crying, that we're happy and contented with things
+as they are. We look like it, don't we?"
+
+"Dear aunt," he expostulated, but was not allowed to proceed.
+
+"No, Dick, I'll not listen to your evasions, and I'm not going to
+stand this any longer. What is it all about, and what does everybody
+mean by holding conversations behind our backs, and saying things we
+mustn't hear, while we're expected to sit mum-chance on our chairs,
+eating our hearts away? Because we're women, I suppose, and aren't fit
+to be trusted! Mystery, mystery, mystery, nothing but mystery, and
+we're to hold our tongues. I wouldn't have believed it of you, Dick.
+Do you mean to tell me that this little matter of business, and this
+voyage of discovery, as you call it, doesn't concern us?"
+
+"It does concern you, but I give you my word, aunt, I don't know yet
+in what way."
+
+"Let us help you. As it concerns us, you've no right to keep it from
+us. Now, child, tell us your news."
+
+Gracie shook her head, and still looked at Dick for her cue.
+
+"You little brick!" he said, patting her sallow cheek. "Aunt, if you
+were to beat her black and blue I don't believe she would say one word
+without my permission.
+
+"I wouldn't," said Gracie.
+
+"That's a nice thing to say to me," said Aunt Rob, sarcastically. "I'm
+in the habit of beating children black and blue--everybody who knows
+me knows that."
+
+"Everybody who knows you knows you to be staunch, and brave, and
+true," said Dick, kissing her, "and to have the kindest heart that
+ever beat in a woman's breast. You'll bear witness to that, won't you,
+Gracie?"
+
+"Yes, I will."
+
+"I'm not to be put off with a kiss," said Aunt Rob. "Let us hear what
+concerns us." The latter part of this conversation took place while
+they entered the house, and they were now in the sitting-room, with
+the gas turned up. "Look at that white face." She pointed to Florence,
+who was standing tearless, with her hand at her heart. Dick's own
+heart sank at the mute misery in her face. "Do what you can to relieve
+her anxiety, Dick."
+
+"Let Dick act as he thinks best, mother," said Florence, but she still
+kept her hand at her heart, and Dick felt that it would be worse than
+cruel to offer any further opposition to Aunt Rob's wishes.
+
+"You shall hear what Gracie has to tell," he said, "but not a word
+must pass out of this room. There's a prologue to it."
+
+He spoke of his impressions concerning Dr. Vinsen, and of his
+conviction that there was a sinister motive to Reginald's prejudice
+behind that gentleman's unsolicited kindness to Gracie's family; after
+which he related how he and Gracie had entered into partnership that
+morning to track Dr. Vinsen and the vindictive juryman down, in the
+hope of discovering something that would be of service to them.
+
+"It was an odd fancy of mine to call myself the captain and Gracie the
+first mate of the ship that was going on this voyage of discovery, and
+it's my opinion there will be high jinks if we succeed in bringing
+that ship to anchor. Now, mate, for your news. Have you seen Dr.
+Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes, Dick, I've seen a lot of him," said Gracie, "but his name ain't
+Vinsen, and he ain't a doctor."
+
+"By Jove!" said Dick, under his breath. "Who and what is he, Gracie?"
+
+"He's a money-lender, and his name is Ezra Lynn."
+
+"That's the first trick to us," said Dick. "Begin at the beginning,
+mate, and go right through it."
+
+She did, and did not pause till she came to that part of her story
+where Dr. Vinsen hailed a hansom cab, and drove off at too swift a
+pace for her to follow.
+
+They listened in breathless interest. Gracie's skill in the weaving of
+stories of the imagination for the entertainment of her little
+brothers and sisters served her in good stead in this story of real
+life, and, quite unconsciously to herself, she imparted a dramatic
+touch to the narrative which lifted it above the level of its sordid
+details.
+
+"Talk of your detectives!" exclaimed Dick, in wonder and admiration.
+"Here's a little girl that can show them the way to go. Why, the man
+could be prosecuted for practising without a diploma. But, the motive,
+the motive, the motive? We're getting hold of the ends of loose
+strings. How to tie them, how to tie them?" He paced the room in his
+excitement. "Is that all, Gracie?"
+
+"Oh, no, there's ever so much more. When he was gone I went back to
+the baker's shop, to see if I could find out anything more about him.
+I _did_ hear a lot! Oh, Dick, he's a regular bad 'un. He's lived there
+ever so many years, and there ain't a living soul that's got a good
+word for him. I saw the man again they called a jackal, and I got his
+name and where he lives. Here it is. I bought a sheet of paper and a
+bit of pencil for a ha'penny, and I put all the names and addresses
+down, for fear I might forget 'em. Here's the man's name that's going
+to be sold up to-morrow, and here's the baker woman's name and
+address, and here's the trunk shop, and here's the number of the house
+in Park Street that he looked so long up at the windows of."
+
+"Reginald's lodgings," said Dick, looking at the paper. "What do you
+think now of my first mate? Anything more, Gracie?"
+
+"When I got all I could out of 'em I thought I'd come and try to find
+you, Dick, and I took a tram and two busses to Catchpole Square, but
+you weren't there. Then I came here, and you weren't here. Then I went
+back to Catchpole Square again, and who should I see but Dr. Vinsen
+going into a house in Shore Street. It's down on the paper."
+
+"Dr. Pye's house," explained Dick. "We're getting warm."
+
+"He kept there an hour and more, but I never budged, When he came out
+he didn't look pleased, and he looked worse when he bought some more
+special editions of the papers, and read what was in 'em."
+
+"Wanted the inquest over," interposed Dick, "and a verdict of wilful
+murder against Reginald. Go on, partner."
+
+"It was getting night, and I thought I might have a chance of catching
+the man Dr. Vinsen was talking to last night, so I went to the place
+where the inquest was held, and there I saw him. I saw you, too,
+ma'am, and the young lady, and a good many others, all talking
+together. I didn't see you, Dick."
+
+"I wasn't there."
+
+"But where were you, child?" asked Aunt Rob. "I didn't set eyes on
+you."
+
+"I took care you shouldn't. When this man went away--oh, what a black
+face he had, Dick!--I followed him home. He doesn't live fur off, and
+he keeps an ironmonger's shop. You'll see the name on the paper, Dick;
+it's the bottom name."
+
+"I see it, Gracie. P. Rawdon, ironmonger, 24, Wellington Street."
+
+"There's a lot of things outside the shop window on the pavement,
+pots, and pans, and pails, under a verandah, and a boy was taking 'em
+into the shop. I sneaks up to the boy, and says, 'Is that the master?'
+'Yes,' the boy says, 'that's the guv'nor.' 'Mr. Rawdon?' I says.
+'Yes,' he says, 'Mr. Rawdon.' And with that he goes inside with his
+arms full, and I walks away, for I didn't know what else I could do,
+when up comes Dr. Vinsen again, almost at the top of me. Lucky for me
+he didn't catch sight of me. I cut across the road, and watched him go
+into the shop. I waited a little while, but it was past seven o'clock,
+and you said I was to be here before eight. That's all, Dick."
+
+"And enough," said Dick, "more than enough for one day. There isn't a
+man or woman in all England who could have done as much in so short a
+time. I'm proud of you, Gracie. Now, my girl, you mustn't breathe a
+word of all this to another living soul in the world."
+
+"I won't," said Gracie, her heart swelling with pride at being
+addressed by Dick as "my girl."
+
+"I begin to see light, aunt. That man, Vinsen, sham doctor and
+philanthropist, alias Ezra Lynn, real scoundrelly money-lender, and
+Dr. Pye have been hatching a plot against us, and have drawn the other
+scoundrel Rawdon into it. Light--yes, light! And there's more behind
+it that I'll get at before I'm many days older. You don't like
+secrets, aunt, but this _must_ be kept from Uncle Rob. He might
+consider it his duty to make a move, and if he does we are done for.
+You can't see as well as I can what is hanging to this discovery of
+Gracie's. I pledge you both to secrecy--for Reginald's sake. We must
+keep this before us. All that we have done, all that we are doing, is
+for Reginald's sake. Promise, promise!"
+
+They were aglow with excitement, and they replied simultaneously,
+
+"We promise, Dick."
+
+"That's right. We'll draw those ferrets out of their hole, and it will
+not be long before Reginald is a free man--freely and honourably
+acquitted, with every one who knows him, and every one who doesn't,
+ready and eager to shake hands with him, and give him a word of
+sympathy."
+
+"Dear Dick!" said Florence, giving him both her hands.
+
+"Dear Florence, dear aunt, I would go through fire and water for you."
+He turned suddenly to Gracie. "What have you had to eat to-day?"
+
+"A penny loaf at the baker shop," replied Gracie, who was fainting
+with hunger.
+
+"Nothing more?" cried Aunt Rob.
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Florence, lay the tablecloth; and you, Dick, run down to the kitchen,
+and fetch the bread and butter--and you'll find a cake in the larder.
+And bring up the kettle--I'll make the tea here. Tell the servant to
+cook four large rashers and poach half-a-dozen eggs. Draw up to the
+table child--why, you must be starving!"
+
+"I'm all right, ma'am. It ain't worth while worrying about me."
+
+"You dear little mite!" Aunt Rob's heart was overflowing with pity,
+and she bent down and kissed her. Dick was back, loaded with a
+steaming kettle and bread and butter and cake, and though Aunt Rob was
+no fairy, the tea was made and a cup placed before Gracie, and bread
+and butter cut, as quickly as any fairy, though she were light as
+gossamer, could have accomplished it. "Don't wait for us, Gracie, the
+bacon and eggs will soon be here--why, here they are! Now, my dear,
+make a good meal, and you sit down, Florence, and eat. It's easier to
+meet trouble with a full stomach than an empty one. Here's your cup,
+Dick; you look famished, too. Things look ever so much brighter, don't
+they?"
+
+And thus she rattled on to put Gracie at her ease, and under the
+influence of a spirit so buoyant and hopeful a fuller meal was eaten
+than would otherwise have been the case, and they were all the happier
+for it. Then Gracie arose, and thanking them quietly said that her
+mother would be worrying about her, and if they would excuse her she
+would like to go home. There was a grave look on Aunt Rob's face at
+mention of Gracie's mother, for she thought of Mrs. Death's conduct an
+hour or two ago at the Coroner's Court, but she said nothing except
+that Gracie ought to go home at once. She would have liked to wrap up
+what was left of the cake, and give it to the child to take to her
+little brothers and sisters, but she felt that the kindly act might be
+misconstrued, and might get Gracie into trouble.
+
+"I will walk a little way with you," said Dick. "Aunt Rob, I have a
+great deal to do, and I sha'n't be able to come back to-night. Get to
+bed early, you and Florence, and try to sleep. It will brighten
+Reginald up to-morrow if he sees you with cheerful faces, which you
+can't show him without proper rest."
+
+So the good nights were exchanged, and the mother and daughter were
+left alone. Before Florence went to bed she wrote a long and loving
+letter to Reginald, and Aunt Rob also wrote a letter, which Florence
+enclosed in hers; and then the young wife, so sorely tried ran out to
+post it, and kissed it passionately before she dropped it into the
+box. She and her mother were to sleep together that night, and Aunt
+Rob sent Florence up to bed first. Household duties had fallen into
+arrear in consequence of her long attendance at the Coroner's Court,
+and these must be attended to before she retired; she was not the
+woman to neglect her domestic affairs, and she knew that her husband
+would feel the happier for seeing a tidy home when he came from his
+office. She was occupied nigh upon two hours, and then there was a
+little note to be written to her husband, and laid open on the table,
+telling him that she was sleeping with Florence, and that he was to
+sleep in Dick's room. Aunt Rob was not what would be considered a very
+religious woman, but she had an underlying and unconscious religion of
+her own which she steadily practised--the religion that lies in kind
+thoughts and deeds, in upright conduct and duties conscientiously
+performed; and she was not in the habit of reading her Bible
+regularly. But this night, when all her household work was done, she
+took the Book of Consolation from the shelf, and reverently read
+therein till nearly midnight.
+
+During these hours of work and prayer she had not been unmindful of
+her daughter; every now and then she stepped softly up to the bedroom
+and listened at the door; she would not open it, lest the creaking
+should disturb the young girl. She stood there in the dark, and
+listened. "My darling is asleep," she whispered to herself as she went
+quietly downstairs.
+
+For an hour and more she read in the Holy Book, and when she closed it
+a deep calm rested on her face and a look of peace in her eyes. The
+feeling that possessed her was the feeling of a woman in affliction
+who had heard the voice of God. Balm was in her heart. Truly her house
+was a house of sorrow, but it was also a house of faith and hope. Who
+shall say that the spiritual links of love that join heart to heart,
+though miles of space lie between, did not pulse with a sweet and
+tender message to the innocent man lying in his cell?
+
+Turning down the gas in the sitting room and the passage, and placing
+her note to her husband in such a position that it would be sure to
+meet his eye when he entered, Aunt Rob stole upstairs to bed, carrying
+the candle with her. She started when she saw a white-robed form
+kneeling by the bedside. It was Florence, who had been lifting her
+heart to God, and who had fallen asleep with a prayer on her lips.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIV.
+
+            EXTRACTS FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF FRIDAY,
+                       THE 15TH OF MARCH, 1896.
+
+
+The intense interest taken by the public in the progress of the
+mystery of Catchpole Square was markedly shown this morning by the
+enormous concourse of people assembled in the vicinity of the Bishop
+Street Police Court, where Mr. Reginald Boyd was brought before the
+magistrate, charged with the murder of his father, Mr. Samuel Boyd, on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. In these times of fever and
+unrest, when scarcely a day passes without some new sensation cropping
+up to overshadow the sensation of yesterday and drive it from the
+minds of newspaper readers, it is rare indeed that any one startling
+incident should continue for so long a time to engross public
+attention. For this reason, if for no other, this extraordinary
+mystery will be long remembered; but, quite apart from the morbid
+curiosity which all murder cases bring into play, there are in this
+case elements of perplexity and bewilderment which entitle it to the
+first place in the annals of great crimes. It is not our purpose to
+offer any opinion as to the probable guilt of this or that person; the
+matter is now in the hands of justice, and it would be manifestly
+improper to try the case in our editorial room, but this does not
+prevent our columns being open to the discussion of abstract matters
+which may or may not have a bearing upon it.
+
+To the disappointment of the sight-seers in the adjoining wider
+thoroughfares the accused man was driven to Bishop Street through side
+streets but little frequented, and so skilfully were the police
+arrangements carried out that he was conducted into the court by the
+rear entrance before the general public were aware that he had started
+from the station. The Court was crowded, and among those assembled
+were the wife and mother-in-law of the prisoner, who it was understood
+had had an interview with him before the commencement of the
+proceedings.
+
+Mr. Marlow represented the Public Prosecutor, and Mr. Pallaret
+appeared for the prisoner.
+
+Mr. Marlow, addressing the magistrate, stated that it was not his
+intention to do more than formally open the case, after which, without
+taking any evidence beyond proving the arrest of the prisoner, he
+should ask for a remand until that day week. The police had not yet
+concluded their preliminary investigations, and the interests of
+justice would be best served by the course he proposed to adopt.
+Having briefly narrated the circumstances which led to the accused
+being charged with so horrible a crime, he called Mr. Lambert,
+detective officer in the police service, who gave evidence of the
+arrest.
+
+Mr. Marlow: "That is as far as I propose to go, your worship. I now
+ask for a remand till this day week."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I do not oppose the remand, but I have a question or
+two to put to the witness, and a remark to make to the Court." To the
+witness: "When you arrested the accused did he offer any resistance?"
+
+The Witness: "On the contrary. Suspecting, or having heard, that I had
+a warrant for his arrest he came up to me voluntarily, and said he was
+at my disposal."
+
+"He walked quietly with you to the station?"
+
+"Quite quietly."
+
+"Did he make any statement?"
+
+"No. I advised him to say nothing."
+
+"What was his reply to that?"
+
+"He said, 'I am not afraid to speak. Until my innocence is proved I
+will proclaim it to all the world.'"
+
+"I have no further questions to ask you." To the magistrate: "The
+observation I desire to make is this. No one can be more anxious than
+the accused that the fullest light should be thrown upon this sad
+affair, and that the murderer of his father shall be brought to
+justice. He himself has offered a reward of AL500 for the discovery of
+the murderer. But we enter a strong protest to any unnecessary delay
+in the disclosure of the evidence we have to combat. To arrest a man
+on a charge so serious without sufficient evidence to support it, and
+merely because the police deem it necessary that some person should be
+put on his trial, would be monstrous. I make no complaint against the
+police, but there have been occasions on which they have erred, and
+have inflicted cruel injustice upon innocent persons. There was the
+Great Porter Square case, in which a son, accused of the murder of his
+father, was brought up at the magistrate's court no fewer than seven
+times. The police had nothing against him, and he was eventually
+proved to be innocent. I trust similar tactics will not be pursued in
+the present case. To any unnecessary delay we shall offer the most
+strenuous opposition. Will bail be allowed?"
+
+The Magistrate: "No. I have no doubt the police will do their duty.
+The case stands adjourned till this day week, at eleven in the
+morning."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LV.
+
+                   CONSTABLE APPLEBEE ON THE WATCH.
+
+
+A man may be an easy-going man all his life, and go down to his grave
+without anything occurring to take him, as it were, out of himself, or
+to make him, either suddenly or by gradual stages, a different being
+from that which those most intimate with him believe him to be. We
+have seen this exemplified in Dick Remington, who, from an easy-going,
+irresponsible being, with no definite or serious aim in life, and with
+an apparently conspicuous lack of industry and application, has
+suddenly become an earnest, strong-minded, strong-willed man, bent
+upon a task which would tax the most astute intellect.
+
+An experience of this nature, but in a different way, had come to
+Constable Applebee, in whose mind certain agitating visions had been
+conjured up by the appearance of the reward bills. The usually calm
+depths were stirred, and the peaceful current of his daily duties
+became convulsed. If he could earn only one of the rewards he was a
+made man, let alone the chances of promotion. The prospect was
+alluringly disturbing, and it made Constable Applebee restless and
+watchful. When a dull man gets an idea into his head it becomes a
+fixture; to argue with him is time thrown away; it is there, and he
+sticks to it, perhaps because of its novelty; and when that idea
+carries with it the prospect of a lump of money all the logicians in
+the world are powerless to remove it until the sterner logic of fact,
+proves it to be false. And even then he doubts and shakes his head.
+
+Applebee's idea, which had created these visions of fame and a golden
+future, was that the man who had committed the murder and who had the
+jewels in his possession, was no other than Mr. Dick Remington.
+Whether he alone was the culprit, or in collusion with Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, time would show.
+
+He kept his counsel; not even in the wife of his bosom did he confide.
+He knew that Detective Lambert had the case in hand, the great
+detective who had brought so many mysterious crimes to light. What if
+he, Applebee, could succeed in proving himself Lambert's equal and
+snatching the prize from him? The prospect of such a triumph was
+dazzling. Dick met Applebee at the entrance of Deadman's Court, and
+gave him good evening.
+
+"Good evening," said Constable Applebee.
+
+He was not a man of overpowering intellect, and with this weighty
+matter in his mind he had not the wit to say good evening in his usual
+cordial manner. Dick noticed the change of tone, but attached no
+importance to it.
+
+Now, the duller-witted a man is, the more suspicious he is, and while
+Dick noticed a change of manner in Applebee which really existed, and
+attached no importance to it, Applebee noticed a change of manner in
+Dick which did not exist, and to which he attached immense importance.
+"He sees that I suspect him," thought Applebee, "and is afraid. What
+makes him afraid? Guilty conscience. That proves it." Thus do we jump
+at conclusions when we have all the argument to ourselves.
+
+He saw nothing more of Dick that night, and great was his chagrin the
+following day to see pasted on the door of Samuel Boyd's house in
+Catchpole Square the following notice:
+
+"Absent on business. All communications for Mr. Remington to be
+addressed to Inspector Robson."
+
+"He's cut and run," was Applebee's first thought. His second thought
+was that this was a move on Dick's part to put him off the scent. "But
+I'll be a match for him," he thought.
+
+"He's sure to come back, and the next time I lay hands on him off he
+goes with me to the station. I'll charge him, and chance it. The
+thing's as clear as mud. What a fool I was not to have seen it all
+before! Why did he keep hanging round Catchpole Square night after
+night while Samuel Boyd was laying dead in bed? Where did he go on the
+night of the great fog after I parted with him at three in the
+morning? He didn't keep in the streets all night, I'll take my oath on
+that. Where was he? Why, where else but in Samuel Boyd's house,
+packing up the things? He was clerk there once, and knows all the ins
+and outs of the place. Pond tells me he keeps his room locked, and
+that his missis is not allowed to go into it even to make the bed.
+What does he keep it shut up for? Is the property there? A search
+warrant would settle that, but as things stand there's no chance of my
+getting one. I shouldn't be surprised if he keeps the jewellery about
+him. It must be worth a heap of money. I asked Mrs. Pond this morning
+whether he slept there last night. No, he hadn't, nor the night
+before. He used to live with Inspector Robson, but he doesn't live
+there now. Then what has he been doing with himself of a night all
+this last week? I'll be hanged if I don't go to Mrs. Robson, and ask
+for him!"
+
+Screwing up his courage he presented himself at Aunt Rob's house, and
+his knock at the door was answered by that lady herself.
+
+"Is Mr. Dick Remington in?" he asked.
+
+"No, he isn't," replied Aunt Rob.
+
+"Can you tell me where to find him, Mrs. Robson?"
+
+"No, I can't."
+
+"Will he be back soon?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+Applebee scratched his head; he had come to the end of his resources
+in that quarter.
+
+"Do you want him for anything particular?" inquired Aunt Rob,
+anxiously.
+
+"Not for anything very particular."
+
+"Perhaps you'll leave a message."
+
+"No, thank you," said Applebee, feeling as if he was being badgered,
+and repeated, "It's nothing very particular." Then he walked away.
+
+"They're all in a plot together," he mused. "I don't half like the way
+she answered me. She never took her eyes off my face. He's gone off to
+get rid of the jewellery. I'll keep my eye on Catchpole Square.
+There's a chance of his coming back for something he left behind. If
+he does, I'll nab him."
+
+The longer he brooded upon it the stronger grew his conviction of
+Dick's complicity in the crime, and the more firmly was he resolved to
+make the arrest when he had the chance. Little did he dream of the
+kind of success that was to attend his zealous efforts and the
+startling developments which were to follow.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LVI.
+
+              EXTRACTED FROM THE DIARY OF DAVID LAMBERT
+                          DETECTIVE OFFICER.
+
+
+                    _Thursday, March 15th_, 1896.
+
+
+Arrested Mr. Reginald Boyd this evening for the murder of his father,
+Mr. Samuel Boyd, of Catchpole Square. Arrest made at the door of the
+Coroner's Court. Had a little scene with Mr. Rawdon, the juryman who
+has been making all this fuss during the inquiry.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd bore his arrest very well. So did his good little
+wife, who agreeably disappointed my expectation that she would break
+down. So did not Mrs. Inspector Robson, a brick of a woman, who showed
+me very plainly what she thought of me. I may say emphatically that
+her feelings are the reverse of friendly, and from a woman of strong
+opinions it is just what might be expected. But then she doesn't know
+what is good for her; she would have to be gifted with second sight
+before she would give me a civil word just now. Poor women! I pity
+them. They will have a weary night of it.
+
+If things turn out as I anticipate this arrest will be about the
+cleverest move I have ever made. Reason why? Because I believe Mr.
+Reginald Boyd to be as innocent as I am myself.
+
+Why arrest him, then?
+
+In the first place, because he had to be arrested, and if I had not
+done it another officer would. Indeed, it is I who am indirectly
+responsible for the issuing of the warrant. More correct, perhaps, to
+say for expediting its issue. I could name half-a-dozen men who were
+burning to make the arrest. They would have to rise very early to get
+ahead of me.
+
+In the second place, because I wasn't sorry to be able to do Inspector
+Robson a good turn. A queer way of setting about it, he would say. But
+it's true, for all that. And it's as good a thing as could have
+happened to the young fellow.
+
+In the third place, because, had the arrest not been made by me, I
+should have no excuse for interviewing Dr. Pye. I hope to have
+something to tell my French brother-in arms, Joseph Pitou, that will
+astonish his weak nerves. He writes to me from Milan, where he is
+making inquiries, he says. Is sorry he can't come over to London, he
+says. I am not. I don't want him yet awhile. Keep away, friend Joseph,
+keep away, till I send for you. There's plenty to puzzle over in this
+Catchpole Square Mystery without having the other mystery of Louis
+Lorenz piled on the top of it--that's what most men would think. I'm
+not one of them. It needs something big in the way of sensation to
+wake people up in this year of grace. If all turns out well, they'll
+get it. Besides take Louis Lorenz out of the case, and what becomes of
+Dr. Pye?
+
+Dick Remington has a plan of operations already cut and dried--I'll
+take my oath of that. It's humiliating to have to confess that I
+haven't a notion what it is. Never mind. I'll back what I know against
+what he knows, and we'll see who'll get to the winning post first. If
+I had a leisure hour I'd ferret out the connection between him and
+that old fence Higgins; as it is, I haven't a leisure minute.
+
+Let me see. What have I to do to-morrow? First, the magistrate's
+court, to give evidence of the arrest. Shall have to remain till the
+remand's granted. There is sure to be a sharp lawyer on the other
+side. If they're wise they will engage one of the highest standing.
+
+I don't expect to be free till two or three o'clock, and then I must
+see if I can hunt up the case of Louis Lorenz. There was a description
+of the man in the papers, but I doubt if I shall be able to lay hands
+on it, as there was no suspicion of the man coming our way. Then there
+was a report that he was found dead in a wood in Gallicia, shot
+through the heart. It was in Gallicia he was tried and condemned to
+death, and three days afterwards escaped from gaol. Some said he
+bribed the gaolers. The property was never traced. Friend Joseph Pitou
+promises to send a portrait of him, and full personal particulars.
+
+At eight o'clock I present myself at Dr. Pye's house in Shore Street,
+and send in my card. A welcome visitor? Not much of an open question
+that. Then will commence the tug of war. Strange that I have never set
+eyes on him. I was not in the Coroner's Court when he gave evidence.
+Very good of him to come forward, wasn't it, to drive a nail in Mr.
+Reginald Boyd's coffin.
+
+One o'clock. I must get to bed.
+
+
+                      _Friday, March 16th_, 1896.
+
+
+A busy day. I must set things down, or they will get muddled. Nothing
+like system. Order is nature's first law. It is also mine.
+
+By the first post a letter from friend Joseph. I passed it across the
+table to my wife to translate. She shook her head. "Why," I said, "you
+translated his other letters." "They were in French," she replied;
+"this is in Italian. I don't understand Italian." And there the
+rubbish lay on my table, and me staring helplessly at it, exasperating
+me to that degree----!
+
+Wasn't it enough to put a man out? What the devil does Joseph Pitou
+mean by writing to me in all the languages under the sun? English is
+good enough for me; isn't French good enough for him? Does it to crow
+over me, I dare say, to show how superior the foreign detective
+service is to ours. But I think we could teach you a trick or two,
+friend Joseph. Off went a telegram to him in French (written, of
+course, by my wife), requesting him to send me that letter again in
+his own native language. And though it is now eleven o'clock at night
+there is no reply. Do you call that business, Joseph Pitou? And where
+is the portrait you promised to send?
+
+There is a word in the letter that my wife says means patience. It is
+repeated three times. Friend Joseph, no one knows the value of
+patience better than David Lambert; he has exercised it to good
+purpose in times gone by. But when a man that you would take your oath
+is innocent is in a prison cell on a charge of murder it isn't easy to
+exercise it, especially when you get letters written in foreign
+languages.
+
+Mr. Reginald Boyd's people have engaged the soundest and best counsel
+in London in a case of this kind--Mr. Pallaret. None of your bullies
+or cockchafers, but a man that knows the law and will stand no
+nonsense, and a man that the bench listens to with respect. They could
+not have done better, and he made it pretty plain that he did not mean
+to allow this case to drag on at the pleasure of the police. They were
+all in the magistrate's court, Inspector Robson and his wife, and Mrs.
+Reginald Boyd, and, of course, the prisoner. Upon my word, it looks
+like injustice to set the word against him, believing what I believe,
+and knowing all the time that the case of the prosecution is as weak
+as water. I did not give them a glance, but I felt Mrs. Robson's eye
+upon me, and I was downright sorry for them. However, it was soon
+over. Remanded for a week. That gives us breathing time, but to the
+devil with your patience, friend Joseph.
+
+I make a mistake when I say they were all there. Dick Remington was
+absent, and it rather surprised me. So when I left the court I made my
+way to Catchpole Square, just to give him the time of day and see how
+he took it. There I met with another surprise. On the door of Samuel
+Boyd's house is a written notice, saying that Dick Remington is absent
+on business, and that all communications for him are to be addressed
+to Inspector Robson.
+
+Now, what is the meaning of that? On my way to Dr. Pye's to-night I
+met Constable Applebee, on night duty there. When I see there's
+something on a man's mind that's as likely as not to be of service to
+me if I can get at it, I encourage that man to talk. I saw there was
+something on Applebee's mind--you can see through him with half an
+eye--and I encouraged _him_ to talk. Glad enough he was, and willing
+enough. And what do you think he asked me? Why, if I knew where Dick
+Remington was hanging out? "In Catchpole Square, of course," I
+answered, quite innocently. "That he isn't," said Applebee, as
+triumphantly as if we were playing a hand at cards and he had won a
+trick by fine play. "There's a notice pasted on the door that he's not
+to be found there; he's gone away on business it says." "Well," said
+I, "if he's not to be found in Catchpole Square you'll find him at
+Inspector Robson's house." "No, I sha'n't," he answered, thinking he'd
+scored another trick. "I've been there, and from what Mrs. Robson said
+it's my belief she doesn't know where he is." "That's singular," I
+said, "what do _you_ make of it?" "What do you make of it, Mr.
+Lambert?" he asked. I considered a moment, and then said I gave it up.
+"But _you've_ an opinion," said I, insinuatingly. "Let's have it."
+Upon which he volunteered his conviction that Dick Remington had cut
+and run. "Why should he cut and run?" I asked, as innocent as any
+baby. "That," he answered, solemnly shutting himself up, "I must keep
+to myself." I laughed in my sleeve. _He_ wants to discover the
+murderer of Samuel Boyd, and collar the reward, and he has come to the
+conclusion that Dick Remington's the man. It's comic. I give you my
+word, it's comic.
+
+But I ask again, what is the meaning of Remington's disappearance? It
+means something. What? Is he hunting for the tiger, and has he got a
+clue? It seems to me that I mustn't lose time. That AL500 belongs to
+me, and I intend to have it.
+
+At eight o'clock I knocked at Dr. Pye's door, and a young woman opened
+it, a fine upstanding animal from the country. "Norfolk," said I to
+myself when she asked me what I wanted in the sing-song voice peculiar
+to the county. "I want to see Dr. Pye," I said. "Not at home," she
+answered, without a moment's hesitation. "I think he is," I said. She
+stared at me helplessly. "That is the answer you've been told to
+give," I said. "Yes," she said. "To every one?" I asked. "Yes," she
+said. I slipped my card and a sixpence into her hand. "Put the
+sixpence in your pocket," I said, "and take my card up to Dr. Pye."
+Willing as she was to pocket the sixpence I think she would have shut
+the door in my face if I had left it free, but one leg was inside and
+one out. "You will get in trouble if you don't do as I tell you," I
+said. "I am an officer of the law--a policeman." I knew the magic
+there was in the word to a Norfolk village girl. "Take the card this
+instant to Dr. Pye," I said, in a tone of authority. She vanished, and
+I waited five minutes by my watch before she came down again. "You can
+come up," she said, and I noticed that she had been crying. We went
+upstairs together, and she opened a door.
+
+A man was standing at a table, holding a glass containing a liquid up
+to the gas light. Two other glasses containing liquid were on the
+table; the glasses were long and thin, and the liquid of different
+colours. With the exception of these glasses, the table, and two
+wooden chairs, the room was bare of furniture. The mantelshelf had not
+an article upon it, there was not a picture on the walls. The house is
+double-fronted, and must contain a great many rooms; the one I was in
+faced Shore Street; there was a shutter to the window, partly closed.
+
+"Dr. Pye?" I said.
+
+"I am Dr. Pye," he answered. "Do not interrupt me; I am making an
+experiment."
+
+I stood still and silent, and waited.
+
+From inquiries I have made no person in the neighbourhood is more than
+casually acquainted with Dr. Pye. He has a reputation as a scientific
+man, but I have been unable to ascertain on what precise grounds. It
+is supposed that he is always experimenting with chemicals and gases,
+and ignorant people go as far as to declare that he is searching for
+the elixir of life. He is not on visiting terms with any of his
+neighbours; all that is known and said of him is hearsay.
+
+A remarkable looking man. There is a stoop in his shoulders, and at
+the first glance he gives one the impression that he has passed all
+his life in study. His eyes are the colour of steel, and I should
+judge him to be possessed of great mesmeric power. His voice is slow
+and deliberate; his manners, also. A man less given to impulsive
+action I never gazed upon. I must not omit to mention that his hair is
+iron grey, and his face clean shaven.
+
+Holding one glass in his left hand he lifted another with his right,
+and mixed the liquids. Then he placed the glasses on the table, and
+fixed his eyes upon them.
+
+He had not once looked steadily at me, but I recognised in his actions
+a magnetic power which, had I been a man of weak nerve, would have
+compelled me to follow the result of this experiment with an interest
+as keen as his own appeared to be, and to the exclusion of every other
+subject. To put it more plainly, he would, in a manner of speaking,
+have emptied my mind of its own thoughts and replaced them with his.
+This is what did _not_ occur. I followed the experiment with simple
+curiosity.
+
+After a silence which lasted two or three minutes he lifted his eyes
+from the glasses, and they met mine. I smiled and nodded at him. He
+did not return my salutation, and there was no change in his grey
+face.
+
+In the matter of expression I never met a man who seemed so utterly
+devoid of it as Dr. Pye. His features might have been carved in wood,
+his eyes might have been steel balls, for all the indication they gave
+of what was passing in his mind. When you have any business on hand
+with a man of that kind, beware. I had no need of the warning, having
+all my wits about me, and having come prepared for possible squalls;
+and whatever were my feelings regarding Dr. Pye, admiration was
+certainly one of them. The prospect of a battle royal with such an
+antagonist exhilarated me.
+
+We continued to gaze at each other for a few moments, and I was
+careful not to change my expression. That he was disappointed in my
+manner I did not doubt; I was not exactly the kind of man he would
+have liked me to be. My mind was my own; he had no power over it.
+
+Presently he turned his attention again to the glasses on the table,
+timing with his watch some expected change in the liquids he had
+mixed. If he was the party I was searching for I needed to look to my
+safety, so, though I showed no fear, and felt none, I did not move
+from the spot upon which I had taken my stand on entering the room.
+The handle of the door was within reach of my hand, so was my pretty
+little revolver, which I can hold in my palm without anyone being the
+wiser.
+
+Opening a cupboard which, in my swift observation of it, contained
+nothing but a few sticks and glasses, he took a slender cane from a
+shelf, and stirred up the liquid. As he did so it burst gradually into
+flame, in which shone all the colours of the rainbow. Tiny streams of
+fire ascended fountainlike into the air, and dropped back into the
+glass; it burnt, I should say, for the space of three minutes, the
+colours all the time glowing and changing. In a small way I have
+seldom seen anything prettier. At first I was inclined to regard this
+little performance as a kind of hanky-panky, but I soon corrected
+myself, for any person less resembling a vulgar showman than Dr. Pye
+it would be difficult to find.
+
+The coruscations of colour died away, the spiral threads of fire had
+spent themselves, the liquid had disappeared, and at the bottom of the
+glass was a small sediment, which Dr. Pye carefully emptied into a
+piece of white satin tissue paper, which he carefully folded and put
+into his pocket. Then he spoke.
+
+"I gave the maid instructions that no person was to be admitted to see
+me, as I was engaged upon an exceedingly delicate experiment which it
+has taken me some days to prepare."
+
+"I hope it has been successful," I said, politely.
+
+"I cannot tell," he answered. "The small modicum of powder I have
+collected is in its present state valueless except as a destroyer."
+
+"As a destroyer?"
+
+"Yes. The minutest portion of it dissolved in a glass of water is
+sudden death. But these are matters in which you cannot be expected to
+take an interest."
+
+"Pardon me, doctor. To all men of intelligence such matters are of the
+deepest interest"--I was proceeding when he waved the subject away.
+
+"It is not of my scientific experiments you have come to speak. I see
+by your card"--he referred to it--"that you are a detective officer."
+
+"My name is tolerably well known," I said, and he stopped me again.
+
+"To members of the criminal classes, no doubt. I am behind the age, I
+am afraid."
+
+If he thought to mortify me by implying that he had never heard of me
+he did not succeed. "It is known to others outside those classes. You
+have read my evidence in the case?"
+
+"In what case?"
+
+"The Catchpole Square case."
+
+"No," he said, "such cases have no attraction for me. I used to take
+in the daily newspapers, but I found that they distracted my attention
+from my pursuits, so now I read only scientific papers."
+
+"But you gave evidence at the inquest, doctor!"
+
+"I know I did. A friend mentioned the matter to me, spoke of incidents
+connected with it, and said that the murder must have taken place on
+the night of Friday, the 1st of March. I recollected that I was up
+late that night, and that, as I stood at my window at three in the
+morning, some unusual movement in the Square forced itself upon my
+attention; I recollected that I had used an insignificant little
+invention of mine, a new kind of flash-light, to ascertain precisely
+the details of the movement. I spoke of this to my friend, who said it
+was my duty to come forward and relate what had come under my
+observation. In consequence of that remark I tendered my evidence, and
+was glad to be rid of the affair."
+
+"But you are not rid of it, doctor," I said.
+
+"How is that?"
+
+"Have you not heard that Mr. Reginald Boyd has been arrested for the
+murder?"
+
+"No, I have not seen a newspaper this week, and you are the first
+visitor I have had. The young man has been arrested, has he? I trust
+he will be able to clear himself. When did the arrest take place?"
+
+"Yesterday evening. I made it. It is news to you, then, that he was
+brought before the magistrate this morning?"
+
+"Yes, it is quite new to me. What was the result?"
+
+"He is remanded for a week. It takes some time to get up a case of
+this kind, and when we take one in hand we don't like to be beaten.
+I've had to do with many, Dr. Pye, and I've never been beaten yet. I
+don't mean to be beaten now."
+
+There was the faintest show of interest on his countenance. "Do you
+believe, in the young man's guilt, Mr. Lambert?" he asked.
+
+"Yes," I answered. "Don't you?"
+
+"How is it possible for me to have an opinion?" he said, and I looked
+upon it as an astonishing remark for him to make after the evidence he
+had given at the inquest.
+
+"But you saw him leave the house on the night of the murder, doctor,
+and under most suspicious circumstances, as if he were mortally afraid
+of being caught. Is not that enough to base an opinion upon?"
+
+"I must be just, Mr. Lambert. When my eyes fell upon Mr. Reginald Boyd
+in the Court I was startled by the resemblance he bore to the man I
+saw in the Square. If attention had not been called to my feeling of
+astonishment, which I suppose was expressed in my face, I am not sure
+whether I should have spoken of the resemblance."
+
+"But consider, doctor. You came forward in the interests of justice."
+
+"Undoubtedly."
+
+"Of your own accord. Without being summoned."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Would it have been in the interests of justice that you should
+conceal this startling resemblance?"
+
+"It is a fair question. It would not. But still I say I might have
+reflected upon the matter before I gave my suspicion tongue."
+
+"You would have left the Court without revealing the secret?"
+
+"Secret!" he exclaimed.
+
+"Well, it was a matter known only to yourself. May we not call such a
+knowledge a secret?"
+
+"You argue skilfully, and have drawn me into a conversation which I
+would have perferred to avoid. My time is valuable, Mr. Lambert."
+
+"So is mine, Dr. Pye."
+
+There was a pause; each was waiting for the other to speak, and I was
+determined he should be the first.
+
+"May I inquire," he said, "your reason for evincing so extraordinary
+an interest in this affair?"
+
+Here was an opportunity for a bit of acting; I took advantage of it.
+Leaning forward I said in my most serious tone, "Dr. Pye, my
+reputation is at stake. It is a dangerous admission to make, but we
+are closeted together in confidence, and may say anything to each
+other without fear. No one can hear us"--(I was not so sure of that,
+but it suited my purpose to say it)--"and if either of us were called
+upon to give an account of our interview--though there is nothing more
+unlikely--we might say what we pleased, invent what we pleased, put
+into each other's mouth anything we pleased. That is the advantage of
+speaking without witnesses."
+
+"You are very frank," he said.
+
+"It pays me to be so. I repeat, my reputation is at stake. I have
+arrested a man for murder, and I am bound to prove him guilty. There
+are jealousies in all professions; there are jealousies in mine. I am
+surrounded by men who envy me, and who would like to step in my shoes.
+They would clap their hands in delight if I let the man I arrested
+slip through my fingers. Well, I don't intend to give them this
+satisfaction. My present visit to you is partly private, partly
+professional. Of course, if you say to me, 'Mr. Lambert, I decline to
+have anything to do with your private feelings,' the only thing open
+to me would be to keep those private feelings to myself, and to treat
+you, professionally, as a witness who was not disposed to assist me."
+
+"Justice must not be thwarted," he said.
+
+"Exactly. You hit the nail on the head. May we continue the
+conversation on the lines that will suit you?"
+
+"Well, continue," he said; "it is rather novel to me, and I will
+endeavour to work up an interest in a matter so entirely foreign to
+me. You see," he added, and I was not sure whether he intended to be
+humorous or serious, "there is nothing scientific in it."
+
+"Not in a strict sense, perhaps, but, allowing a latitude, there is
+something scientific in the methods we detectives pursue. The piecing
+together of the loose bits of evidence which we hunt up, a bit here, a
+bit there, arguing upon it, drawing conclusions from it, rejecting
+what will not fit, filling up the empty spaces, until we present
+the whole case without a crack in it for a guilty man to slip
+through--that is what we call circumstantial evidence, and it is
+really a science, doctor. Where did we break off? I was contending
+that it would have been wrong for you to have left the Court without
+speaking of the startling resemblance between Mr. Reginald Boyd and
+the man you saw coming from his father's house in the middle of the
+night. It would have been worse than wrong, it would have been
+criminal. Now, doctor, a man of your penetration could not be
+mistaken. He says he was home and in bed at the time, but it is
+impossible for him to prove it. And why? Because there is not a shadow
+of doubt that he was the man you saw. There must be no wavering in
+your evidence on this point; the crime must be brought home to him; he
+must not escape. Doctor Pye, you must let no feeling of compassion
+prevent you from stating the honest truth. You see what is at stake in
+this matter."
+
+I may say, without vanity, that I was playing my cards well, and if I
+did not laugh in his face--which would have been foolish, though I
+could have done so with much enjoyment--I am entitled to my laugh at
+the recollection of the scene.
+
+"Your reputation is at stake," he said.
+
+"I don't deny it; and the ends of justice; a much more important thing
+to a gentleman of your position."
+
+"Am I to infer that my presence will be necessary in a criminal
+court?"
+
+"It cannot be dispensed with. You will be served with a notice to
+appear as a witness."
+
+"When?"
+
+"Next Friday at the Bishop Street Police Court. There is a clever
+lawyer against us, Mr. Pallaret, and my instructions are to make the
+case in its initial stages as strong as possible, for he will exert
+all his powers to break it down."
+
+"I must appear, I suppose," he said.
+
+"And you will maintain that Mr. Reginald Boyd is the man."
+
+"Yes, to the best of my knowledge and belief."
+
+"Mr. Pallaret is a skilful cross-examiner."
+
+"I will be prepared for him."
+
+"He will endeavour to throw discredit upon your statement."
+
+There was just the suspicion of a smile on his lips as he said, "Let
+him try."
+
+"It will be the more necessary for you to be firm, doctor," I said,
+and I was curious to see whether he would fall into the trap, "because
+Mrs. Death's evidence as to the time you saw Mr. Reginald Boyd come
+out of the house is in direct contradiction to yours."
+
+"Yes, I know."
+
+"She says she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three
+when she was in the Square."
+
+"She is mistaken. She might easily be, alarmed as she was for the
+safety of her husband."
+
+He had fallen into the trap. Here was a man who had stated that I was
+the first visitor he had had this week, and that he had not seen a
+newspaper, acknowledging in his last replies to me that he was
+acquainted with the evidence Mrs. Death had given in the Coroner's
+Court yesterday. If it occurred to him that he had contradicted
+himself he did not gather from me that I was aware of it. I rose to
+go, and kept my face to him.
+
+"I will wish you good night, doctor," I said, and then I lingered. "By
+the way, might I see that clever little device of yours for throwing
+light to a distance?"
+
+"I am sorry I cannot show it to you," he replied. "It is being
+repaired. Good night."
+
+He was anxious to be rid of me, but I still lingered.
+
+"It is from the back windows of your house, doctor, that you can see
+into Catchpole Square?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, and his voice was not cordial; but that I judge it
+seldom is. I mean, that it was more guarded.
+
+"Would you mind showing me the window you looked out of when you saw
+Mr. Reginald Boyd?"
+
+"I cannot show you the room to-night. It is used as a sleeping
+apartment by one of the females in the house."
+
+"I beg your pardon; but I should like to see it before next Friday."
+
+"There will be no difficulty. Good night."
+
+"Good night," I said again.
+
+He accompanied me to the street door, inviting me by a motion of his
+hand to precede him down the stairs. I would not be so impolite. I
+insisted upon his going first, and I followed him, with my right hand
+in the pocket containing my little revolver. Our last salutations
+exchanged, he shut the street door upon me.
+
+I walked to the end of the street, and then, on the opposite side of
+the road, slowly retraced my steps till I was within twenty yards or
+so of the house, and waited till Constable Applebee came round on his
+beat.
+
+"You will remain here," I said to him, "and keep Dr. Pye's house under
+observation, without drawing attention upon yourself, till I return. I
+shall be back in less than half an hour. Report to me if any person
+enters or leaves the house during my absence."
+
+When I returned it was in the company of an officer in plain clothes,
+whom I had instructed to keep watch on the house until I sent another
+man to relieve him. Applebee reported that Dr. Pye's street door had
+not been opened.
+
+Well, the train is laid. When it is fired, if friend Joseph Pitou is
+not following a will-o'-the-wisp, there will be a rare explosion. Even
+if he is, I think I can promise one.
+
+What annoys me is, that I have been unable to get the particulars of
+the case of Louis Lorenz.
+
+A postman's knock at the door! The telegram!
+
+Yes, here it is: "Letter, in French, to-morrow. Pitou."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LVII.
+
+                DETECTIVE LAMBERT CONTINUES HIS DIARY.
+
+
+On Monday morning Detective Lambert, as recorded in his diary,
+received Joseph Pitou's letter from Milan--this time written in
+French, which, being duly translated by Mrs. Lambert, caused the
+English detective profound astonishment and delight. It was in keeping
+with the literary methods he pursued that he did not insert the letter
+in his diary, and gave no intelligible account of its contents.
+Neither would it have been in accordance with his methods to have
+omitted mysterious reference to it:
+
+"Letter from Joseph Pitou, commencing, 'My Very Dear and Very
+Illustrious Compatriot and Brother-in-arms,' which I look upon as
+foreign bunkum. I don't object to the 'illustrious,' but we English
+would have put it differently.
+
+"If I were not so closely mixed up with the Catchpole Square Mystery I
+should regard friend Joseph's letter as being copied out of a romance.
+It reads like romance. But it isn't; it is a chapter, or several
+chapters, out of real life. It is a feather in one's cap to be
+connected with such a character--not friend Joseph, but the game we
+are hunting. Big game. The idea of coming face to face with it is
+enough to scare a timid man, but that kind of risk doesn't scare an
+Englishman. I won't do friend Joseph the injustice to say it might
+scare him.
+
+"He sends me the portrait of Louis Lorenz. The mischief of it is that
+Lorenz's face is covered with hair--a fine crop which in the present
+instance, I do not admire. When a criminal is condemned to death in
+Gallicia don't they shave him? A felon loses his rights as a citizen,
+and his moustachios and whiskers are the property of the State.
+
+"My man is clean shaven, but the blue shade on his chin and cheeks
+show that he has a fine stiff crop of his own. So have hundreds of
+thousands of other men. Still it is a link, though not a strong one.
+
+"The point of resemblance is in the forehead and eyes. I took as clear
+a view as possible of his face, and I did not fail to observe that,
+whether by accident or design, he sat with his back to the light.
+True, he did not shift his chair to place himself in that position,
+but for all that I decide it was design and not accident. He seldom
+raised his eyes; when he did he found me ready for him. Now, if it had
+been Applebee who sat opposite him----"
+
+And here, presumably, Lambert broke off to indulge in a laugh.
+
+Near midnight on the same day he continued his diary, but there was no
+reference to Joseph Pitou or Louis Lorenz.
+
+"At three o'clock called on Dr. Pye. An old woman opened the door.
+'Dr. Pye at home?' I asked. 'Not at home,' she answered. 'Take my card
+up to him,' I said. 'Not at home,' she repeated, and jammed my leg in
+the door. I remonstrated. 'Take your leg away,' she said. Seeing
+that she was determined, and having no authority to enter the house, I
+took my leg away, and she slammed the door in my face. Faithful
+creature--and well paid for her services, I'll swear. Told the lie
+with a face of brass, for a lie it was. Dr. Pye was at home. Where is
+my maid from Norfolk? She was seen to leave the house on Saturday
+morning. Cab at the door. Small japanned box brought out, containing
+her wardrobe. Cab drove off with box on the roof and my Norfolk maid
+inside. I ought to have had more than one man on the watch, for then I
+should have known where the cab drove to. Most probably to a railway
+station, to take my maid to her native village. Norfolk has many
+villages. Why was Dr. Pye so anxious to be rid of her? Answer--because
+she did not slam the door in my face, as the old woman did.
+
+"With the exception of two visits from Mr. Ezra Lynn (from the
+description given of the man there could be no mistake it was he)
+there has been nothing discovered. These visits were made on Saturday
+night and last night. On each occasion he came at eight o'clock. On
+Saturday night he remained two hours, last night he remained three.
+Dr. Pye has not been seen to leave the house. From the tradesmen who
+call there nothing has been learned. The establishment is carried on
+on ready money lines. Everything sent home is paid for at the
+servants' entrance. As a ready money customer Dr. Pye bears a good
+name in the neighbourhood.
+
+"I was not content with one visit to Dr. Pye to-day. At five o'clock I
+presented myself again--on official business. The same old woman
+opened the door. 'Dr. Pye at home?' 'Not at home.' 'I must see him.'
+'Not at home.' There was no chance of my putting my leg inside; the
+door was on the chain. 'I serve this notice upon him,' I said,
+thrusting the paper into the old woman's hand. 'It is an order for him
+to appear as a witness at the Bishop Street Police Court next Friday
+morning, the 22nd of March, at eleven o'clock, to give evidence in the
+case of the murder of Samuel Boyd.' The woman took the notice, and
+left me alone once more on the wrong side of the door.
+
+"I have treated Mr. Rawdon, the contentious juryman, to a sight of me
+on three separate occasions. Not a word have I addressed to him; I
+have simply given him to understand in a silent manner that he is
+under observation. He does understand it, and does not appear to be
+very comfortable.
+
+"Where is Mr. Dick Remington? He has not been seen by any of my people
+since Thursday last. Has he been spirited away? Is there any
+connection between his disappearance and the disappearance of Abel
+Death? To both questions I answer, no. The notice of his absence still
+remains on the house in Catchpole Square. Applebee informs me that the
+door of that house has not been opened from the day the notice was
+posted on it. He is keeping close watch upon the house, and I am
+keeping close watch upon him. When he makes a move, or discovers
+anything, I shall be at hand. Things can't remain in this quiet state
+much longer. Some time this week there will be a flare up. Don't you
+think so?"
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LVIII.
+
+                   THE DISCOVERY OF THE CRYPTOGRAM.
+
+
+While Detective Lambert was making these entries, events of which he
+had no suspicion were progressing in another quarter. Some premonition
+of startling incidents soon to happen must have been very strong
+within him, or he would not have been out of bed a couple of hours
+after midnight, prowling, in a safe disguise, in the vicinity of
+Catchpole Square and Shore Street. Constable Applebee came across him
+twice without recognising him, although Lambert gave him every
+opportunity, asking him on both occasions the way to Holborn. Lambert
+apparently was the worse for drink, and Applebee would probably have
+had more to say to him, and might indeed have "run him in" as a
+suspicious character had it not been for the interest he took in the
+immediate neighbourhood of Samuel Boyd's house, to which particular
+spot he devoted more attention than was consistent with his duties on
+the space of ground covered by his beat. The second time Lambert asked
+him the way to Holborn, the constable proffered a sensible piece of
+advice, to the effect that the man would be better in bed, to which he
+was advised to go if he did not wish to get into trouble. "Is that
+your advice?" asked Lambert, with a tipsy lurch. "Yes, it is," replied
+Applebee, "and if you're not a born fool you'll take it." "I'd have
+you know," retorted Lambert, "that I'm a respectable mechanic, and my
+advice to you is not to be so cocky. I'd make as good a bobby as you
+any day in the week." This angered Applebee, but did not move him to
+retaliatory action, and Lambert walked off, laughing in his sleeve.
+His light mood did not last long. Dark clouds were coming into the
+sky; a few drops of rain fell. There was a flash of lightning and a
+clap of thunder. "We shall have a storm," he muttered.
+
+At that very moment Dr. Vinsen and Dr. Pye were closeted together, and
+events were approaching a climax. On the afternoon of that day Dr. Pye
+had received a note from his friend, announcing that he intended to
+pay him a visit at midnight. It was a strange hour to choose for a
+friendly call, and Dr. Pye was not pleased, but these men were in a
+certain sense dependent upon each other, and neither could just now
+afford to open up a quarrel; therefore, when Dr. Vinsen's summons at
+the street door was heard by Dr. Pye he went down himself and admitted
+his visitor. The interview was held at the back of the house, in the
+room with shuttered windows, from which a view of Samuel Boyd's house
+could be obtained.
+
+"It is a dangerous time for a visit," were Dr. Pye's first words.
+
+"By daylight," said Dr. Vinsen, "the danger would be greater. I took
+care to see, before I knocked, that there was no person in the street.
+Besides, I trust you as little as you trust me."
+
+"You have a reason for the remark," observed Dr. Pye.
+
+"I have, or I should not have made it. But let us be amicable--be
+a-mi-ca-ble. I am willing to converse in a spirit of confidence. You
+have wounded me by your suspicions, and you have a design which you
+are hiding from me--from me, your best friend. Has your spectre
+appeared again?"
+
+"An hour ago I saw it at the window."
+
+Dr. Vinsen looked at his host incredulously. Dr. Pye placed a portrait
+before him.
+
+"I took this negative last night; I developed it this morning. Do you
+recognise it?"
+
+Dr. Vinsen's face grew pale as he gazed at the portrait of Samuel
+Boyd.
+
+"Are you mad?" he asked, "or am I?"
+
+"Do not be alarmed," said Dr. Pye, calmly; "the man is not there. It
+is the picture of a vision, and is one step farther in our knowledge
+of the power of the human will. When I received your letter this
+afternoon I determined that I would search the house to-night in your
+company; or, if you prefer it, I will search alone."
+
+"No; it shall be in my company. I am not afraid of ghosts."
+
+Dr. Pye smiled scornfully.
+
+"You turned white at the sight of the picture."
+
+"A momentary discomposure, nothing more. I do not deny that I have not
+your iron nerve. I am very human, my friend;--ve-ry hu-man."
+
+"Drop the mask," said Dr. Pye, sternly. "I am sick of your whining.
+Will you have some wine?"
+
+"Something stronger than wine."
+
+"To fortify yourself for a meeting with our spectre?" Dr. Pye laughed
+in derision, and produced a decanter of brandy, to which his visitor
+helped himself liberally. From the bottom of a cupboard he took a
+cobwebbed bottle of wine, which he handled and opened very carefully.
+He smiled as he held the glass up to the light, and then drank it
+slowly, as if it were really the elixir of life which popular rumour
+credited him with searching for. "I would give much," he said, "for
+that store of old wine which Samuel Boyd left behind him. Had it not
+been for you I would have had every bottle in this house."
+
+"And so risked discovery," said Dr. Vinsen. "As it was you courted
+danger by taking two bottles to gratify your insane tastes."
+
+"I have courted greater dangers and escaped them. You are too
+cautious, my friend. All my life I have found safety in boldness. You
+accuse me of withholding from your knowledge a design which I have in
+view. What design?"
+
+"In good time, my very dear friend. There are other matters first.
+Before we go into them, a question. Does your patient remain in the
+same state?"
+
+"There is no change in him."
+
+"He will disclose nothing?"
+
+"His mind is a blank."
+
+"That is the result of your fine plan," said Dr. Vinsen, with a sneer.
+"Perhaps you will acknowledge that my plan was the best--to silence
+him and leave him in the cellar."
+
+"I acknowledge nothing. The reasonable presumption was that he could
+have given us a clue. Time enough then to have silenced him. As it
+happens he has failed to be of service to us."
+
+"How will you dispose of him now without drawing suspicion upon you?"
+
+"Upon us, you mean." Dr. Vinsen shifted uneasily upon his seat. "I
+will find a way, and you shall share the risk." He smiled as he added,
+"I will insure your safety for a small premium, so we will not waste
+time in recrimination. Come to the 'other matters' you have referred
+to, and of which I am as yet in ignorance."
+
+"Not quite in ignorance, my friend. Surely I have prepared you, surely
+I have been patient. I decline to be placed in a false light." He took
+out a pocketbook and laid it on the table, guarding it with his hand.
+"I have a conscience; I must justify myself even in your eyes."
+
+"Is it worth while to make the attempt?"
+
+"I think so; I really think so. I must lay my head upon my pillow with
+my mind at ease--my mind at ease. You, with your lofty notions and
+your wild search for the unattainable, you with your spectres and
+visions, know little of the sufferings of a sensitive spirit such as
+mine."
+
+"Faugh! Is _this_ worth while?"
+
+"You have your ways, I have mine," said Dr. Vinsen, with a sly smile.
+"I must trouble you to listen while I go over the ground."
+
+"So be it. And if my suspicions are correct--and they generally are--I
+may trouble _you_ to listen while _I_ go over the ground."
+
+"It will be a pleasure. I think it is three years since you and I
+became acquainted. Correct me if I am wrong."
+
+"It is immaterial. Say three years--or thirty."
+
+"No, my friend; let us be exact. This is an affair of figures. It is
+three years since you wrote to me in acknowledgment of a circular you
+received from me. I had money to lend, you required a loan. I advanced
+you five hundred pounds."
+
+"Four."
+
+"Five, my friend, five. The odd hundred was deducted as payment of
+interest in advance."
+
+"Part payment."
+
+"You have an excellent memory. I need not go into the details. In the
+course of a few months you required more money and I advanced it to
+you."
+
+"Spare me the details of each transaction. Come to the point."
+
+"I will. Up to the present day you have had from me, in various sums,
+at various times, a total of three thousand pounds----"
+
+"In actual money, not half that."
+
+"Which, with interest added," continued Dr. Vinsen, alias Ezra Lynn,
+not troubling himself to argue the point, "amounts now to a trifle
+over five thousand pounds. Will you oblige me by looking over these
+figures and verifying them?"
+
+"No, I will take your word that they are correct, according to your
+reckoning."
+
+"I thank you for your confidence," said Dr. Vinsen, who did not,
+however, seem to appreciate this indifference. "It is not to be
+supposed that I advanced my hard-earned capital without some sort of
+security. You gave it to me in the shape of a bill of sale over these
+art treasures of yours, for which you have an absurd passion, and
+which I do not deny have a marketable value, and over every piece of
+portable property in this house. From time to time I have urged you to
+discharge the debt, wholly or in part, and my appeals have been
+disregarded. My dear friend, there is a time when one's patience
+becomes exhausted. Need I say more?"
+
+"Yes. You are only in the middle of the chapter. Samuel Boyd has to be
+introduced. Proceed."
+
+"At your wish," said Dr. Vinsen, with evident reluctance. "Some six
+weeks ago, when I was pressing you for repayment, you made mention to
+me----"
+
+"Stop. When you were pressing me for repayment and threatening to sell
+me up--you left out the latter clause."
+
+"You made mention to me of a plan, which would not only enable you to
+repay me what you owed me, but would result to our mutual advantage.
+You had, you said, secret access to the house of Samuel Boyd, who was
+in the habit of keeping there considerable sums of money, of which it
+would be easy to obtain possession. Without risk, without danger. You
+laid particular stress upon that."
+
+"I did," said Dr. Pye, and the inscrutable smile which accompanied the
+words did not add to his confederate's composure.
+
+"You needed a partner in the execution of your plan, a sleeping
+partner, you said, who would have nothing to do but to assist in
+removing the cash and valuables from his house to this, for which
+assistance he was to receive half the proceeds."
+
+"Say spoil."
+
+"The proceeds. I objected, not being willing to be a party to an act
+of personal violence. I am a peaceable man, and have made my money by
+peaceable means."
+
+"By peaceable fraud."
+
+"Why use harsh terms? All my transactions are legal, and protected by
+the law. In reply to my objection to a deed of violence you told me
+that you could in a moment render a sleeping man so utterly insensible
+and oblivious to all that was passing around him as to utterly remove
+every possible chance of risk. We were to enter the house when Samuel
+Boyd was asleep; you were to go into his chamber and render him
+insensible and unconscious."
+
+"While you remained outside," said Dr. Pye, still with the inscrutable
+smile on his lips, "in happy ignorance of the sleeping man's fate."
+
+"I object to these interruptions," said Dr. Vinsen, sulkily. "Finish
+the story your own way."
+
+"I will. I informed you that Samuel Boyd, for an unknown purpose of
+his own, had been for some weeks past withdrawing large sums of money
+from the bank, and had been selling securities, and that I expected he
+would have in his safe on the night of March the 1st several thousand
+pounds, of which I offered you half for the tame part you were to play
+in the robbery. Your cupidity was aroused; you could not resist the
+bait, and you consented to become my partner in the crime. You do not
+like the terms I use; they are the correct terms. I am no canting
+psalm-singer; when I commit a crime I accept the responsibility; I do
+not shirk and whine; and as for the penalty, trust me for evading it.
+It was arranged that out of my share of the spoil I was to pay you
+what I owed you, so that you had a double interest in the success of
+the plan. The night arrived, and you were here, jubilant, expectant,
+greedy for the gold, but yet with a craven cowardice for which I
+despised you. However, you screwed your courage to the sticking point,
+and when all the lights in Samuel Boyd's house were extinguished I
+showed you how I obtained access to the premises. We entered in
+silence, and undetected; we made our way up the stairs and entered the
+office which contained the safe. You shook like an aspen, and I left
+you in the office and went alone into the bedroom, carrying a light.
+At that very moment Samuel Boyd awoke and started up in bed before I
+had time to press upon his face the handkerchief which I had prepared
+to render him unconscious. He sprang from the bed, and the
+handkerchief fell from my hand. One cry escaped his lips--only one,
+for my hand was on his throat. But he was strong, a more powerful man
+than I had conceived him to be, and he struggled with me so
+determinedly that we stumbled together into the office, where you
+stood, white-faced and trembling. By some means he got hold of a
+pistol, and fired two shots. One bullet went into the wall, where it
+was found by our good friend Remington, evidence of which was given by
+him and Lambert the detective at the inquest. Where the other bullet
+went has not yet been discovered. I thought I was struck, and for a
+moment my hold on Samuel Boyd relaxed. His eyes fell upon you, and
+your name escaped his lips, which was the first intimation I received
+that you had had transactions with him. That roused you to action, for
+you knew that if he were left alive you were doomed. You sprang upon
+him, and bore him to the ground. Then it was two to one. Our hands
+were at his throat. Whose fingers gave him the _coup de grace?_"
+
+"Yours," said Dr. Vinsen, in a hoarse whisper.
+
+"Yours," said Dr. Pye, calmly, "as I am ready to testify on my oath.
+However it was, there lay Samuel Boyd, dead before our eyes. We came
+to commit a robbery; we had committed murder. As we stood gazing upon
+the dead body we heard a knock at the street door, and I thought you
+would have fainted, you were so terror struck. In a whisper you
+suggested flight; had your advice been followed we were lost, for
+there was no time to mask the means by which we had obtained access to
+the house. The knocking continued, and it was then that the
+opportunity was afforded me of displaying one of my talents. As a
+mimicker of voices I am unrivalled, and you are aware of my skill in
+another histrionic achievement. It was imperative that the summons
+should be answered, or the neighbourhood might have been aroused. I
+seized your hand, my dear accomplice in crime, and we descended to the
+street door. Mimicking Samuel Boyd's voice I inquired who was there.
+The reply was, 'It is I, sir, Abel Death. For God's sake let me speak
+to you!' Fearing the result if the demand was not complied with I drew
+the bolt and the chain, and dragged the man in; and as he entered you
+struck him with such force that he fell to the ground senseless. I
+have never inquired why you struck him."
+
+"It was an impulse of passion," said Dr. Vinsen, in a faltering voice.
+
+"Foist those subterfuges upon weaker men. I did not inquire because I
+knew. You held the candle above your head, and Abel Death saw your
+face, as the man we had murdered had done, and recognised you, as he
+had done. Why do you wince? We did murder him, comrade in crime, and
+are both liable to the law for the deed." Quietly as he spoke he
+seemed to take delight in associating Dr. Vinsen with himself in the
+ruthless work. "Your thought, when you struck Abel Death down, was
+that if he were allowed to go free he would be able to give evidence
+against you."
+
+"And against you."
+
+"Thanks for your consideration of me, but I can see to my own safety
+without aid from such as you. When yours is imperilled there is
+something of the savage in you; I give you credit for so much
+manliness. You would have killed him where he lay."
+
+"Had you made an end of him," said Dr. Vinsen, morosely----
+
+"Or had you done it," interrupted Dr. Pye. "Why give me all the honour
+of the task we were engaged upon?"
+
+"His tongue would have been silenced for ever," concluded Dr. Vinsen,
+"and we should have been safe."
+
+"I am not so sure of that. Anyway I deemed it prudent that he should
+live till we had made search for Samuel Boyd's treasure. If that
+search had been successful I might have handed the poor clerk over to
+your tender mercy. But it was not successful. In the safe we found a
+paltry two hundred pounds, and bills, and documents, and books of
+accounts. The books were valuable to us, for if they had fallen into
+other hands, it would have been seen that we were both indebted to the
+man we killed. Among the bills were many of mine, and some of yours.
+It was not till then that I learned you owed him money; and your
+motive for joining me in the robbery was partly explained. The books
+and bills destroyed, and the man dead, your indebtedness to him was
+cancelled. You are a cunning dog, Ezra Lynn. There were also Lord
+Wharton's bills, which, I fear, are valueless to us."
+
+"You have not kept them!" cried Dr. Vinsen.
+
+"I have, and every document we took away."
+
+"But they implicate _me!_"
+
+"It is perhaps for that reason I have not destroyed them," said Dr.
+Pye, coolly. "We sink or swim together, Ezra Lynn, so long as we
+remain in England. Among the documents was the list of Lady Wharton's
+jewels, and a statement of how Samuel Boyd became possessed of them,
+with other statements which informed us that he was expected to
+present himself at Bournemouth on the following Wednesday, with the
+fifteen hundred pounds he had arranged to advance to her. But where
+were the jewels? We hunted for them in vain, and to this hour have
+been unable to lay hands upon them, although we know they must be
+there."
+
+"They may not be. The burglar who broke into the house on the night
+you went to Bournemouth may have found them."
+
+"No. What we could not find he did not find. On the night I went to
+Bournemouth!" said Dr. Pye, and for the first time a laugh escaped
+him. "Tell me another man who could have so successfully imposed upon
+her ladyship, who would have had the audacity to carry out a deception
+so hazardous? Do you not feel proud in having a partner so bold and
+daring? Judge by that of what I am capable, and whether I am fitted to
+hold command. After what I have seen these five nights past, the image
+of Samuel Boyd, who lies dead in his grave, would any other man have
+the hardihood to enter that house? I am a stranger to fear, Ezra Lynn.
+When our conversation is ended we make search for the lost jewels; it
+may be the last chance we shall have. To finish the story of that
+Friday night before you disclose what is in your mind. I made Abel
+Death secure by plunging him into a state of insensibility from which
+it was impossible for him to recover till late the following day, and
+then we removed the books and papers, leaving behind us one document
+which fixed the guilt of the murder upon Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+"How is it," asked Dr. Vinsen, "that that accusation has not been
+produced?"
+
+"There are more ways than one of accounting for it. The man who made
+the burglarious entrance into the house may have seized the papers we
+left upon the table, in the expectation that he could turn them to
+profit, to discover later that to produce them would be putting
+himself into the criminal dock; or it may be that Mr. Richard
+Remington appropriated the document and destroyed it, out of regard
+for Inspector Robson's family, and probably also because he believes
+in Mr. Reginald Boyd's innocence. Hark! Do you hear the thunder? A
+storm is approaching. All the better for our purpose. It is two
+o'clock, and we have little time to waste. I will make short work of
+the conclusion of that night's proceedings. At your suggestion we
+placed the body of Samuel Boyd comfortably in its bed, and cleared
+away all traces of the struggle. Your argument was that, as it would
+become known that Mr. Reginald Boyd visited his father that night, it
+would be supposed he had adopted the expedient to make it appear that
+the murdered man died a natural death, and so avert suspicion from
+himself. It was a lame argument, for the marks of our fingers were on
+his throat, but I humoured you, as we humour a child who asks a
+harmless question. The last thing we did was to carry Abel Death from
+the house. Some days afterwards we learned that Mr. Richard Remington
+was taking an active interest in the disappearance of the clerk, and
+for the purpose of ascertaining to what extent he was in communication
+with Mrs. Death you introduced yourself to her under the false name,
+by which you are known to her and to him. I raised no objection to the
+plan; the risk was yours, and I was willing that you should run it.
+You used my name without my authority, and I understand why you did
+so. It was to make me a partner in the risk, was it not?"
+
+"Yes," replied Dr. Vinsen, sullenly.
+
+"An honest confession. You feared that I should shirk the consequences
+of our crime--let us call it by its usual name--to which you attach so
+much importance. You are mistaken; I am ready to meet them, always,
+always ready. I have overcome greater dangers, have steered my way
+safely over rocks and quicksands far more perilous. Shall I
+recapitulate the particulars of a later incident in this affair? That
+it chanced that one of the men summoned on the jury was a person who
+owed you money which he could not pay; that you held him so completely
+in your power that you could bring worldly ruin upon him; that you
+entered into a conspiracy with him to use his influence with his
+brother jurymen in order that a verdict of wilful murder against
+Reginald Boyd should be returned; that you----"
+
+"Enough of that," interposed Dr. Vinsen. "Surely it is not necessary
+to go into these details."
+
+"A statement of them refreshes the memory; it is important not to lose
+sight of the smallest incident in this complex matter--but as you
+will. And now, my worthy partner, before we proceed to the house that
+faces this window, explain what you mean by saying that your patience
+is exhausted, and by your threat with reference to the art treasures I
+have gathered, which I value as I value my life?"
+
+"You have had a large sum of money from me," said Dr. Vinsen,
+doggedly. "I claim my own. The debt must be discharged."
+
+"And if payment is impossible just now?"
+
+"I cannot wait any longer."
+
+"Shall we say you will not?"
+
+"You goad me to it. I will not."
+
+"But it happens that you must wait my pleasure--aye, _must!_ Ezra
+Lynn, you little know the man upon whose fate yours depends, and who
+would have no more compunction in striking you dead where you
+sit than in plucking the leaves from a rose. You would rob me of my
+treasures--the treasures I have purchased with blood. Not while I
+live--not while I live. Here is beauty that I can worship, the work of
+the great masters of the past, exquisite colour and perfect form, in
+the production of which genius toiled with a divine end in view. If my
+history ever becomes known the world will read the story of a man who
+greatly dared, of one who loved beauty in its every shape and form, of
+one who, unblessed with wealth, stopped at no crime to gain it, in
+order to follow his star, and who, when all was lost--if such a fate
+befall him--defied his enemies and defeated them in the moment of
+their victory. You start at the word crime. It is a common word, and I
+use it in the common sense, but not in the sense in which _I_ view it.
+All things are justified to men who dare as I have dared. What is the
+sacrifice of a human life in the endeavour to wrest nature's sublime
+secrets from her breast? Man wars with man, and strews the battlefield
+with the slain. Is that called a crime? We glorify it, we sing hymns
+to it, the church cries 'Hosanna!' and its priests praise the Lord of
+Hosts who crowned our banners with victory. If victory crown mine--and
+it may yet, in the teeth of all obstacles--so shall I be praised and
+glorified. Crime! There is no such word to the victor. I laugh at the
+law that would make a criminal of a hero. Not for the first time shall
+I have successfully defied it."
+
+He paused, and smiled scornfully as a flash of lightning pierced a
+chink in the window, which he instantly unshuttered.
+
+"We may be seen!" cried Dr. Vinsen, catching his arm.
+
+He took no heed of the warning, but stood at the window, and smiled
+again at the peal of thunder at the lightning's heels. Whether the
+words he had uttered were or were not the ravings of a madman, it was
+clear that he was terribly in earnest.
+
+"It is but a commencement of the storm," he said presently, in a
+calmer tone, turning from the window. "There is still something
+further to explain. You accused me of concealing a design from you."
+
+Dr. Vinsen fortified himself with brandy before replying. His nerves
+were shaken, and the liquor gave him courage.
+
+"Why have you had two travelling trunks made, and inscribed with the
+name of Corsi?"
+
+"Ah, you have discovered that. It is the name I shall assume when I
+leave these shores for another country. The trunks, as you have
+doubtless observed, are specially constructed for the safe transport
+of works of art."
+
+"I forbid you to remove them," cried Dr. Vinsen. "They no longer
+belong to you."
+
+"How so?"
+
+"How so?" echoed Dr. Vinsen. "You will not deny your signature?"
+
+"No, I will not deny it."
+
+"By this document," said Dr. Vinsen, taking a paper from his
+pocket-book, "which I had duly stamped on the day you signed it, they
+became my property if, in six months from that date, you had not
+discharged your debt to me. The six months expired to-day."
+
+
+"Pause a moment before you open it. When did you read it last?"
+
+"Yesterday, and put it in my pocket-book to bring here to-night."
+
+"If my memory does not play me false, the date was the 18th of
+September, 1897. I did not approve of the document you asked me to
+sign, and you wrote another at this table, worded somewhat
+differently. One hundred and eighty-three days have elapsed since
+then. I am curious to see if I timed it correctly. Open the paper."
+
+Dr. Vinsen unfolded it, and started in amazement. The paper was blank,
+nothing appearing on it but the red Government stamp.
+
+"It was a vulgar trick," said Dr. Pye. "You wrote and I signed, not in
+ink which gradually fades, but which suddenly disappears at an
+appointed hour. Content yourself, my worthy friend, and thank me for
+saving you from a danger which would have sent you to the hulks. Had
+you attempted to dispose of these gems to a dealer in any European
+city you would have been immediately arrested. They have been bought
+with blood, and there is not a police court that has not a list of
+them. Priceless treasures! Here are vases, medallions, and bronzes of
+Benvenuto Cellini, for which collectors would give thousands of
+guineas, and every one known throughout the civilised world. That
+wondrous artificer saw visions, as I do, and his progress was marked
+with blood, as mine has been. Content yourself, I say; when I make my
+fortune you shall be paid, and if we discover the jewels to-night you
+shall have the lion's share. Now, follow me, if you have the courage."
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+Noiseless footsteps on the dark stairs, noiseless footsteps in the
+passages--the footsteps of men in their stocking feet. They reach the
+landing on which Samuel Boyd's bedroom and office are situated.
+
+The storm rages without, tearing through the Square with fierce,
+shrieking moans and cries, like a forest of wild beasts in pain. There
+is a leak in the roof of the house, and the men within it, when there
+is a lull, hear the raindrops falling, pat, pat, pat. One of the men
+shudders at a terrifying thought, born of the memory of a night when a
+murder was committed there. If a human being were on the roof, stabbed
+to the heart, so might _his_ life's blood drip through the aperture.
+In the terrified man's fancy he sees the red stains on the floor, sees
+them spread through the air, though nothing is visible in his actual
+sight. A muffled cry escapes him.
+
+"Hush!" From the other man. "Do not raise your voice above a whisper."
+
+"Why not?" From the trembling man. "There is no one here but
+ourselves."
+
+"Fool! The house may be watched. Why do you shrink from me? Are you
+afraid?"
+
+"No." But the speaker's lips and face are white. "Can we not have a
+light?"
+
+"Not here. I have matches and a candle with me. There is a screen in
+the office--here is the door--step in, softly, softly! Now, help me
+move the screen before the window. Come, ghost, spectre, or vision,
+show yourself!"
+
+
+"For God's sake, stop!"
+
+"Coward! Ah, that lightning flash! And now the thunder! Listen to the
+rain. It is a deluge."
+
+They stoop and light the candle, crouching by the writing-table.
+
+"Keep the light near the ground. The window is masked, but if the
+candle is raised its glimmer might be seen from the Square. Move this
+way. Nearer to this dumb image of wax in its hooded chair. It would be
+a rare achievement to breathe life into it, to compel it to speak, and
+reveal where the treasure we seek is hidden."
+
+So low are their voices that it would be impossible for any person
+acquainted with the speakers to recognise them by that sound. They are
+standing at the back of the hooded chair, and the waxwork figure of
+the Chinaman, with its fixed and pallid face, stares straight at
+vacancy.
+
+"Speak!" whispers the bolder of the two, in savage derision, and
+shakes the chair--so violently that the Charles the Second cane it
+holds in its hand slips and falls to the ground.
+
+"I recall a story," he continues, picking up the stick, and still in a
+whispered voice, "of a treasure of great value being concealed for
+generations in a cane like this. If this were hollow it could be used
+for just such a purpose. What are these protuberances round the rim?
+Hold the light closer, closer! A circlet of old English letters."
+
+By accident he presses one of the letters, and as he does so is
+conscious of a movement in the silver knob at the top of the cane.
+Bending over it he sees that the letter he pressed is B, and that the
+pressure has caused the figure 2 to spring up on the surface of the
+knob.
+
+"B, the second letter in the alphabet, stands for 2," he whispers
+excitedly. "The last words written by Samuel Boyd on the memorandum
+which would send his son to the gallows if it were found, were
+'Notation 2647.' The sixth letter in the alphabet is F." He presses
+the letter, and the figure 6 appears on the knob. "Ha, ha! The fourth
+letter, D." He presses that, and the figure 4 appears, the figures now
+ranging 264. "The seventh letter, G. The notation is complete--2647!"
+
+Such perfect control did the speaker have over himself that even in
+that moment of excitement his voice does not rise above a whisper.
+Both men are now in a standing posture, the discoverer of the simple
+cryptogram holding the cane.
+
+"Now for the test," he says, and with the ball of his broad thumb he
+presses hard upon the four figures. A click is heard. The silver knob
+springs up.
+
+"The jewels!" he whispers, exultantly. "They are here--they are here!
+See!"
+
+In the utterance of the word a vivid flash of lightning illumines the
+room, and one man utters a startled exclamation, the other a frenzied
+shriek, for in that momentary flash they see the figure of the
+Chinaman rise suddenly from its chair. The candle is dashed to the
+ground, enveloping them in black darkness, and the cane, with its
+concealed treasure, is plucked from the hand that held it!
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LIX.
+
+               CONSTABLE APPLEBEE DISTINGUISHES HIMSELF.
+
+
+Constable Applebee, seeking shelter from the storm beneath the roof of
+Deadman's Court, kept his face and his thoughts in the direction of
+Samuel Boyd's house, for such complete possession had the mystery
+taken of him that lightning, wind, and rain were powerless to drive it
+from his mind. Besides which, as he afterwards informed his wife, he
+had a presentiment that "something was going to happen." The latest
+flash of lightning caused him to clap his hand instinctively upon his
+eyes; the crash of thunder that followed caused him to drop his hand.
+Then, as though the elements had exhausted themselves, there was a
+sudden hush, for the sound of the fast-falling rain was faint in his
+ears after the deafening thunderpeal. So faint, indeed, that, in the
+belief that the storm was spent, he stepped into Catchpole Square and
+looked around, distinguishing only the outlines of the buildings
+because of the darkness of the night. Almost on the instant the door
+of Samuel Boyd's house was violently opened, and a man rushed out,
+slamming it behind him. With such frantic haste did he run that he
+came into collision with the constable, and both were nearly upset.
+They recovered their equilibrium simultaneously, and before the man
+could get his breath Applebee proved himself equal to the occasion.
+
+"Easy, there!" he exclaimed, and with one hand caught the man by the
+throat, while with the other he raised his whistle to his lips, and
+blew a loud and vigorous summons for assistance.
+
+"Let me go!" cried the man, struggling to get free. "Come into the
+house with me--quick, quick, or the murderers will escape!"
+
+"_You_ don't escape," said Applebee. "Keep still, or I'll knock you on
+the head." And he tightened his hand on the man's throat.
+
+At this moment his summons for assistance was answered by the
+respectable mechanic who had twice inquired the way to Holborn.
+"What's up?" he inquired.
+
+Applebee pulled out his bull's eye lamp, and turned its light upon the
+new arrival. "Oh, it's you," he said. "I call upon you in the Queen's
+name to assist me in arresting this man."
+
+"Right you are," replied Lambert, in the half tipsy voice of the
+mechanic.
+
+"Are you mad?" cried the man. "They will escape, I tell you! Come with
+me into that house!"
+
+"Keep still!" growled Applebee, shaking his captive roughly.
+
+"What do you charge him with?" asked Lambert, keeping up the fiction.
+
+"Murder," said Applebee. "The murder of Samuel Boyd!"
+
+"That's a find," said Lambert. "Let's have a look at him." And to the
+constable's astonishment he also pulled out a bull's-eye lamp.
+
+"Who are you?" demanded Applebee.
+
+"My name is Lambert," said the detective, dropping his disguise.
+
+"I might have guessed it; but don't forget that _I_ made this arrest."
+
+"You shall have the credit of it." The light of two bull's-eye lamps
+was thrown upon the man's face. "By George! It's Dick Remington."
+
+"Absent on business," observed Applebee, sarcastically. "The murder's
+out. What's that he's dropped?" Lambert picked it up. "A mask!"
+
+It was the mask of a Chinaman's face; and moreover, Dick's outer
+garment was that of a Mongolian, resembling the garment of the wax
+figure in the office from which but a few minutes ago he had escaped.
+
+"Look here, Mr. Lambert, look here, Applebee," said Dick, eagerly----
+
+"Stop, Dick Remington," interrupted Lambert. "Don't you think you had
+better shut your mouth? We're bound to take you to the station, and
+charge you. When you're brought before the magistrate you can tell
+your story if you like. Take my advice."
+
+"So far as my story is concerned I will," said Dick, "but in that
+house are the murderers of Samuel Boyd. For heaven's sake don't leave
+the place without arresting them!"
+
+"If he gets us into the house," remarked Applebee, "we're done for."
+
+"We shall be three to two," urged Dick, despairingly.
+
+"If your story's true," corrected Applebee, "we shall be two to three.
+What's this in your hand? A sword-stick?"
+
+"No," said Dick, and his heart fell; he was beginning to realise the
+danger he was in, "it is not a weapon. I will explain everything at
+the proper time. Mr. Lambert, I implore you to search that house."
+
+"Constable Applebee has spoken like a careful and sensible man," said
+Lambert, "but we'll see if we can equalise matters." Taking his police
+call from his pocket he sent his summons through Deadman's Court.
+"Blow yours, too, Applebee."
+
+The first to answer the call was Constable Pond, to whom the affair
+was hastily explained; and presently they were joined by another
+officer.
+
+"I see no harm in humouring Mr. Remington," then said Lambert. "Pond,
+you and this officer keep watch in the Square while we go into the
+house. There's only one way out of it, and there's only one way out of
+the Square."
+
+"There's the wall at the back," said Dick.
+
+"Which they've got over before this time----"
+
+"Supposing," Applebee put in, "there was anyone to get over it."
+
+"Yes, supposing that. When daylight comes we shall be able to
+ascertain if there are any fresh marks of a grapnel there." Dick set
+his teeth; his rope and grapnel were under the bed of his room in
+Constable Pond's house. "You wish to go into the house with us, Mr.
+Remington?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"We must handcuff you. Give me the stick." He took possession of it,
+and Dick, with a groan, held out his hands. "Behind your back, Mr.
+Remington. I am sorry for the necessity, but there's no help for it.
+There, that's comfortable. Have you the key of the street door?"
+
+"In my trousers' pocket."
+
+Lambert put his hand beneath Dick's outer garment, and took the key
+from the pocket. Then he showed his revolver. "If we're attacked,
+Applebee, I'll account for the two men. Now, then." He opened the
+door. "You go first, Mr. Remington. Applebee, keep behind me, and be
+prepared."
+
+Throwing light upon their way with their bull's-eye lamps the two
+officers, preceded by Dick, ascended the stairs to the office. No
+person was there, nor in the bedroom. They went through all the rooms
+in the upper part of the house, with the same result. Lambert's
+experienced eye sought diligently for some sign of the presence of the
+men Dick had spoken of, but without success.
+
+"A trumped-up story," said Applebee aside to him, "but _I_ knew that
+all along."
+
+Lambert made no reply, but turned to Dick, "Anywhere else, Mr.
+Remington?"
+
+"The bottom of the house," replied Dick. Hope was dying within him. He
+knew that he would be searched at the police station, and that, in
+addition to other incriminating evidence, there would be found in his
+pocket the last words written by Samuel Boyd, the production of which
+would be fatal to Reginald. "Fool!" he thought. "Why have I kept it
+about me? Why did I not destroy it?"
+
+"Is there a cellar?" asked Lambert.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I draw the line at cellars," objected Applebee.
+
+"We will go there," said Lambert curtly, and the constable was
+compelled to accompany them.
+
+"There is a trap door leading to the cellar," said Dick, hopelessly,
+when they reached the kitchen, for he saw that it had not been
+disturbed since he had last lifted it himself. Lambert raised it, and
+let himself down; ascending, he shook the dust from his clothes.
+
+"A regular rat hole," he said. "There's no one there."
+
+"Nor anywhere else," said Applebee, sulkily. "We're only wasting time.
+Let's get to the station."
+
+Caught, as it were, in a trap of his own preparing, Dick conveyed to
+Lambert, in one of those secret glances which to an intelligent mind
+are as good as speech, an entreaty for a private word.
+
+"Remain outside a minute, Applebee," said Lambert, as they stood in
+the passage leading to the street door. "There's something I wish to
+ask Mr. Remington."
+
+Applebee would have refused if he dared, but Lambert's standing in the
+force was too high, and the part he had played in the mystery too
+conspicuous, for him to venture opposition, so, with a dissatisfied
+mind and a discontented face, he walked slowly forward, and waited in
+the Square by the street door.
+
+"This is a bad business, Dick," said Lambert, becoming familiar. His
+kind tone brought tears into the young man's eyes.
+
+"It is even worse than it appears," said Dick, "as you will discover
+when we reach the station. You might take the handcuffs off, Mr.
+Lambert. I'll go quietly." Lambert instantly released him. "Thank you.
+Handle that cane gently, and carry it upright, if you don't care to
+entrust me with it. You will know why soon. It is worth more than its
+weight in gold. Do you think I have been lying?" Lambert stroked his
+chin. "It is an unfair question, perhaps. I'll answer it myself. As I
+hope for mercy from our heavenly Judge I have spoken the truth."
+
+"Who were the men you left in the office? Don't say unless you like,
+and don't speak one word that will tell against yourself. Understand
+me--I sha'n't use anything to your disadvantage unless I have the best
+of reasons for it. And don't _mis_understand me. I intend to do my
+duty without regard to consequences. After all, the proper course is
+silence."
+
+"I _must_ speak. I don't know for certain who the men were. You see my
+dress and the mask I dropped. I had it made in Covent Garden, and
+partly helped to make it myself. I have been in this house since
+Friday night last, and have sat in that Chinaman's chair whenever I
+heard a sound outside the room, made up to resemble him. I acted
+another part, too--I could smile at it if it wasn't for what I see
+before me. There's new misery in store for those I love best in the
+world, and it is I who will bring it home to them."
+
+"Be a man, Dick, be a man."
+
+"It is because I _am_ a man that I feel it as I do. I have been
+working to save them, and as likely as not I have brought destruction
+upon them. I waited for my chance in this house, and to-night it came;
+and it has been spoilt at the last moment by a----"
+
+"By a man who was doing his duty," said Lambert, persuasively. "I am
+sure that is what you were going to say. Did you not see the men?"
+
+"I could not. They were at the back of the hooded chair all the time,
+and of course I didn't dare to turn my head, or they'd have stuck a
+knife in me. Do you think I'm clever enough to have invented the
+story?" he asked pathetically.
+
+"I think you are clever enough to invent anything," replied Lambert.
+He had great admiration for the young fellow, and great sympathy with
+him; notwithstanding which he would not commit himself. "Be quick.
+I've no time to listen to a long story; Applebee will be getting
+impatient. Didn't you hear their voices?"
+
+"I could not distinguish them. They spoke in whispers, and I only
+caught a word here and there. But I suspect--I suspect----"
+
+"Yes?"
+
+"I more than suspect. I believe them to be Dr. Pye and the wretch
+Vinsen, who is no doctor, but a money-lender named Ezra Lynn, in
+league with that scoundrel of a juryman, Rawdon."
+
+"I know all about Ezra Lynn and Rawdon. How did the men you suspect
+get out of the house?"
+
+"I cannot tell. There is some awful mystery yet to be brought to
+light. _I_ hoped to do it, but now I shall be deprived of my
+liberty----" He groaned, and clasped his hands convulsively. "Mr.
+Lambert, our only hope is in you. You want to see justice done, don't
+you?"
+
+"I _will_ see it done," said Lambert, sternly.
+
+"Don't be misled--don't be thrown off the right track! However strong
+appearances may be against me, and against Reginald Boyd, I swear, by
+all we hold most sacred, that we are both innocent!"
+
+"Isn't it time we were moving, Mr. Lambert," called Applebee, from
+without.
+
+"In one moment, Applebee."
+
+"Must I be taken to Bishop Street Station?" asked Dick.
+
+"We daren't take you to another," replied Lambert, gravely. "It will
+be a terrible shock to Inspector Robson."
+
+"My poor uncle! I would give my right hand if it could be spared him.
+What will he think--what will his dear wife and daughter think?" Dick
+was suffering physically as well as mentally; he had not tasted food
+for twenty hours.
+
+Again Applebee's voice was heard from without.
+
+"A last word," said Lambert, hurriedly. "My duty will be performed,
+whatever happens; no consideration will be allowed to interfere with
+its proper performance. There will be a search warrant. I don't ask
+you if there is anything in your room in Pond's house that will tell
+against you--don't speak; I will not listen--I don't ask you that. If
+anything is found it will be brought forward without fear or favour,
+and evidence given in a straightforward manner. But it may console you
+to know, quite privately and confidentially"--Dick nodded--"that I am
+working up a case against the men whose names you mentioned, and that
+if I succeed you may not be the worse off for it. Give me your word
+that you will keep this to yourself. Enough said. We're ready,
+Applebee."
+
+Pond and his fellow constable, reporting that no person had passed
+through the Square, received instructions to keep watch, one in the
+front, the other at the back of the house until they were relieved,
+and to arrest all suspicious characters. Then Lambert, Applebee, and
+Dick, walked to the Bishop Street Station.
+
+Inspector Robson's face was worn and anxious, and when he saw Dick and
+heard the charge it became haggard. He held up his hand, as if
+imploring a short respite of silence, and they averted their eyes
+until he spoke. Raising their heads, a dead white face confronted
+them, its lips sternly compressed. He did not avoid their glance, but
+it was noticeable that not for a single moment did his own rest upon
+his nephew. "That is a man," thought Lambert, "who would go straight
+to his death at the call of duty. It makes one proud to be an
+Englishman." They were all very grave as, without faltering, he took
+down the charge at the dictation of Constable Applebee.
+
+"Before I am searched," said Dick, "I may be allowed to speak, I
+suppose."
+
+"I would not," advised Lambert.
+
+"But I will, if I am not prevented by force. To be silent would be an
+admission of guilt, and I am innocent. I wish all in this place to
+hear my story, every word of which is true."
+
+There was no one in the office except those immediately concerned,
+Lambert, when they entered, having taken the precaution to order the
+constable in attendance outside. In a voice shaken by emotion, but
+weak from want of rest and food, Dick related as briefly as possible
+the particulars of the part he had played in the mystery. He himself
+emptied his pockets, and handed the document falsely incriminating
+Reginald to his uncle.
+
+"I kept these matters to myself," he said, "because I saw that there
+was a strong case of circumstantial evidence against Mr. Reginald
+Boyd, and that the knowledge I had gained would strengthen it. Had I
+revealed at the inquest what I knew nothing could have prevented a
+verdict of wilful murder against him being returned. Convinced of his
+innocence my aim was to spare him and those he loved the agony which
+this additional evidence would have caused them. I felt that time was
+required to bring the guilt home to those who had committed the crime,
+and to that task I bent all my energies. I may have erred, but I acted
+for the best, as I believed, and as I still believe; for even now I do
+not despair that the truth will be made known. As to what that hollow
+cane contains I am as ignorant as yourselves, except that before I
+snatched it from the hands of the men who were searching the room I
+heard one of them say, 'The jewels! They are here--they are here!' If
+I had been left at liberty I should have hunted the wretches down, but
+now----"
+
+He had spoken under the influence of intense excitement, but sleepless
+nights, hunger, and the consciousness of the torture which his uncle
+Rob was undergoing, overpowered him here, and with a pitiable
+endeavour to continue, he broke completely down. A long deep sigh
+escaped him, and he sank into the arms of Lambert, who had expected
+and was waiting for the collapse. In this state he was conveyed to a
+cell.
+
+An examination of the contents of the cane made Applebee open his eyes
+wide with astonishment. Lambert had in his pocket a list of the jewels
+which Lady Wharton had given Samuel Boyd on the night of the murder,
+and he ticked them off as Inspector Robson entered them on the charge
+sheet.
+
+"You will understand, Constable Applebee," said Lambert, when the
+business was concluded, "that what passes in Inspector Robson's office
+is not public property. The arrest is not to be spoken of outside. I
+have heard it said in high quarters that there is too much babbling
+and boasting among certain members of the force. If it continues
+severe measures will be resorted to."
+
+"I understand, Mr. Lambert," replied Applebee, with the air of an
+injured being. Before they reached the police station he had been
+inclined to regard himself as a hero, but his reception had not
+pleased him, and he returned to his beat in a state of mind not
+exactly amiable. He soon consoled himself, however. "It's jealousy,
+that's what it is," he said to himself. "He's riled because he didn't
+make the arrest, and can't claim the reward. If it belongs to anybody
+it belongs to me, and if they try to do me out of it I'll go to law
+with them. There's nothing that I know of in the regulations to keep
+it from me. Anyway, there's the reward for the jewels, and it's me
+that found them. Her ladyship wouldn't be mean enough to go from her
+word." Thus did Applebee muse, and thus does Mammon poison many a
+man's nature. For Applebee had always been an inoffensive, harmless,
+kindly man, but the glare of gold had brought into play the baser part
+of him.
+
+Despite Lambert's warning, which had been given partly out of
+consideration for the feelings of Inspector Robson, a whisper of the
+arrest, and, more or less true, of the incidents connected with it,
+did get about, and the excitement in the neighbourhood of Bishop
+Street Police Station, where great numbers of people congregated in
+the hope of catching sight of Dick, was no less than on the preceding
+Friday, when proceedings against Reginald were commenced.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LX.
+
+                 FROM THE DIARY OF DETECTIVE LAMBERT.
+
+
+                     _Tuesday, March 19th_, 1896.
+
+"Dick Remington brought before the magistrate this morning. Court
+crowded, proceedings very brief. Formal evidence of the arrest only
+was given, and Dick remanded till Friday, when he and Reginald Boyd
+will be brought up together. Mr. Pallaret was in court, and made a
+point of insisting that the case shall be fully gone into on Friday.
+He is hurrying the prosecution on, and doesn't intend to allow it to
+lag. Am not sure whether it is quite wise of him, but I could no more
+teach him his business than he could teach me mine. Dick looked
+better, and fairly self-possessed. The only time he seemed on the
+point of breaking down, as he broke down in the station, was when he
+looked in the direction of Mrs. Inspector Robson and Mrs. Reginald
+Boyd. They almost broke down, too. They were very white and miserable.
+Inspector Robson looked ten years older, but held up bravely. Mrs.
+Abel Death was there. When the case was over saw her talking excitedly
+to the Robsons. To my surprise she came up to me, and asked if I knew
+where her little daughter Gracie was. I did not know. She seemed in
+great distress. Mrs. Inspector Robson and her daughter avoided me, and
+I did not intrude myself upon them. Of course they regard me as their
+enemy. As it happens it may turn out I am their best friend. Don't you
+think so?
+
+"Coming away from the court played some good cards. One, a subp[oe]na
+on Dr. Vinsen, summoning him to appear as a witness on Friday. Left it
+at Dr. Pye's house. Asked to see Dr. Pye. 'Not at home.' Detailed two
+men to shadow the pair of them there. Travelling trunks were delivered
+at the house at eleven o'clock. My man caught sight of the name
+painted on them. Signer Corsi. Good. Preparing for a foreign trip. Not
+without my consent, Dr. Pye.
+
+"Second card. A subp[oe]na on Ezra Lynn, summoning _him_ to appear as
+a witness. I can't help laughing. He will be scratching his bald pate
+to get at the meaning of it. Let him scratch. Detailed a man to watch
+_his_ house, and follow him wherever he goes.
+
+"Third card. A subp[oe]na on Stephen Rawdon, requesting _his_
+attendance at the magistrate's court on Friday. I can see the sweat
+running down his face. Can't you? Did not detail a man to watch _his_
+movements. _He_ won't run away.
+
+"Three good shots.
+
+"Letter from friend Joseph Pitou in reply to mine of Friday last--this
+time in English. He is well up in languages, is friend Joseph. Says my
+man is his man, he believes. Expects to be in London on Thursday night
+or Friday morning. If so, he will be present in the magistrate's court
+on Friday, and will have a good view of our gentleman. Gives me a
+piece of information. Says that he had our gentleman in his custody
+once, and allowed him to slip through his fingers. Very stupid of you,
+friend Joseph. Says our gentleman is the kind of man who never forgets
+a face, and that when he sees friend Joseph we shall know from the
+start he will give what impression this meeting of old friends has
+upon him. I doubt it, Joseph. Our gentleman is the kind of man who
+never gives a start. A modern Sphinx, and, according to Joseph, as
+desperate a character as one would wish to put the darbies on.
+
+"Forgot to say that Lady Wharton was not in Court this morning. Her
+ladyship is in the country. She will present herself on Friday, to
+identify the jewels. Applebee expects to get the reward. Now, it was
+Dick Remington who found them. I mentioned this to Applebee, and made
+him uneasy. What a plucky chap that Dick is! As for his story, I
+believe every word of it. Friday will be a regular field day."
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXI.
+
+         FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE" OF THURSDAY, MARCH, 21st
+
+
+In view of the surprising turn the Mystery of Catchpole Square has
+taken, considerable interest was manifested in the proceedings at the
+Coroner's Court this morning, a large share of public attention being
+bestowed upon the juror who has taken so prominent a part in the
+inquiry. All the jurymen were in attendance at the appointed hour, and
+the Coroner, in a brief address, expressed the hope that a sensible
+and just verdict would now be returned. He would make no comment, he
+said, upon the singular differences of opinion between them, nor upon
+the no less singular and unusual form in which those differences were
+presented to him--contrary, he was bound to add, to all precedent and
+established modes of procedure. It would be obviously improper to make
+any comment upon the altered position of affairs; such alteration was
+not for their consideration, and should not be allowed to influence
+them. The verdict they returned should be strictly in accordance with
+the evidence that had been presented to them. He would now dismiss
+them to their duties.
+
+Upon this occasion, contrary to the general expectation, the jury
+remained in deliberation but a very short time. After a lapse of
+twenty minutes they agreed upon the verdict of Wilful Murder against
+some Person or Persons unknown, which, being received by the Coroner,
+the inquiry came to an end.
+
+In connection with this extraordinary case (new developments of which
+may be expected to-morrow at the Bishop Street Police Court), we may
+mention that no light has yet been thrown upon the disappearance of
+Mr. Abel Death. And in this connection we may further add that Mrs.
+Death is in deep distress at the disappearance of her young daughter
+Gracie, who has been absent from her home since Tuesday. Any person
+who can give information concerning her may address themselves to our
+Office, or to Mrs. Death, 7, Draper's Mews.
+
+We understand that some portion of Lady Wharton's jewels has been
+found, and that her ladyship will attend at the Police Court to-morrow
+to identify them.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXII.
+
+                      AT THE MAGISTRATE'S COURT.
+
+
+There was an unusual bustle in the Bishop Street Police Court on
+Friday morning, every person who could gain admittance and every
+person in the crowds outside being on the tiptoe of expectation. Mr.
+Mallandaine, the magistrate, was in attendance early, and half-a-dozen
+minor cases of drunkenness were disposed of by eleven o'clock, before
+which time every seat was occupied, and there was not a vacant inch of
+standing room. If there had been any intention on the part of Dr. Pye
+and Mr. Ezra Lynn not to present themselves it was frustrated by the
+vigilance of Detective Lambert, who had stepped outside the boundary
+of his duties to secure their attendance. There was not a trace of
+discomposure on the countenance of Dr. Pye. In marked contrast to his
+composed demeanour was that of Mr. Ezra Lynn, who, while assuming an
+air of amused benevolence, was not entirely successful in concealing
+his inward agitation. No information had reached him as to whether he
+had been subp[oe]naed as a witness for the prosecution or the defence;
+he knew that this was irregular, but he did not dare disobey the
+summons. No token of recognition passed between him and Dr. Pye,
+although Lambert had man[oe]uvred that they should be seated next to
+each other. Immediately behind Dr. Pye sat an individual who might
+have been French or Italian; his swarthy complexion and curled
+moustache proclaimed him to be certainly not an Englishman. He took
+his seat, the position of which had also been arranged by Lambert,
+after the entrance of Dr. Pye, so that the former, who did not once
+turn his head, was not aware of his presence. Mr. Rawdon, the
+recalcitrant juror, was within hail, and manifestly as little at ease
+as Mr. Ezra Lynn. Near them sat Mrs. Abel Death, worn and haggard with
+anxiety, all her efforts to find Gracie having failed. Uncle and Aunt
+Rob and Florence were on another bench, and the eyes that rested on
+their suffering faces were filled with pity and kindly sympathy; and
+near them were seated Lady Wharton and her brother, Lord Fairfax. Mr.
+Higgins, in skull cap and list slippers, was also present.
+
+There was scarcely elbow-room at the long narrow table below the
+magistrate's chair. Mr. Finnis, Q.C., representing her ladyship, was
+there, and Mr. Marlow for the prosecution, and Mr. Pallaret for the
+defence, with the solicitors engaged in the case, and the newspaper
+reporters, who were so numerous that accommodation could not be found
+for more than half of them; those who could not obtain seats stood at
+the back, and plied their pencils industriously.
+
+A buzz of excitement ran through the Court as Reginald and Dick
+appeared in the dock. They were ushered in separately, and this was
+the first time they had met since Reginald's arrest, but messages had
+passed between them through friends and solicitors, and their first
+action now, as they stood side by side, was to hold out their hands in
+token of hearty friendship and confidence. Upon some of the spectators
+this friendly greeting produced a favourable impression; upon others
+the reverse. Of the two young men, it was clear that Reginald felt his
+position the more acutely; Dick had recovered his bright and cheery
+manner, and it was hard to believe that he stood charged with a
+horrible crime.
+
+Upon the case being called, Mr. Pallaret rose and said that he
+appeared for both the accused. "In expressing the hope," added the
+learned counsel, "that the case for the prosecution will be fully
+disclosed, and in such a comprehensive manner as to enable your
+worship to decide to-day whether you will discharge the accused or
+commit them for trial, I am carrying out their strong wish, with which
+my own view of what is just and right coincides."
+
+Mr. Mallandaine: "It is certainly advisable that a charge of this
+nature should not be kept hanging over the heads of the accused for an
+unreasonable length of time, but we have to be guided, to some extent,
+by the counsel for the prosecution."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "There is no desire on our part for delay. In a matter of
+this grave import every opportunity for defence should be given to an
+accused person, and in our proceedings to-day I say frankly that I do
+not intend to hold anything back. At the conclusion of the evidence it
+will be for your worship to decide whether the facts disclosed are
+sufficient to warrant the committal of the prisoners. I venture to say
+that there have been few cases of the kind in which the circumstantial
+evidence is so strong and direct. I would point out to your worship
+that the case assumes a different complexion from that which it
+presented this day week. Then there was only one person charged, now
+there are two, and I shall be able to prove collusion in the committal
+of a murder as brutal as any which can be found in the whole calendar
+of crime. The arrest of the second prisoner, Richard Remington, cousin
+of the first, Reginald Boyd, instead of complicating the issue, has
+cleared it, for much that was mysterious is now capable of
+explanation. The medical evidence will establish that the murder was
+committed on the night of Friday, the 1st of March----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Or on the night of Saturday, the 2nd. My learned
+brother will see the point."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "Yes, I see it, but I shall contend that it was committed
+on Friday, on which night Reginald Boyd visited his father, for the
+purpose, as he has himself admitted, of obtaining money from him, he
+being then, upon his own confession, in an impecunious state. The
+notes of his evidence at the inquest will be read to you----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "It will shorten the proceedings by my admitting the
+visit and its purpose. Mr. Reginald Boyd gave his evidence of his own
+free will."
+
+Mr. Mallandaine: "Nevertheless, Mr. Pallaret, the evidence had better
+be read from the Coroner's notes, in which you may possibly find
+discrepancies."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "There are parts which I wish to be read, in proof of
+the ingenuous part played by Mr. Reginald Boyd."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "We will read the whole of it. There will also be
+submitted to your worship proof of identification of the body, with
+the Coroner's notes, and the evidence of the two prisoners on that
+point."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "We admit that. There can be no possible doubt that the
+man murdered was Mr. Samuel Boyd, and I may state explicitly that
+there is not the least intention on our parts to dispute matters of
+fact."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "On the night in question three incidents occurred of
+which we have positive knowledge. The first was the summary discharge
+by the murdered man of his clerk, Mr. Abel Death, whose singular
+disappearance has yet to be accounted for; the second was the visit of
+Lady Wharton to Mr. Samuel Boyd, and her depositing with him certain
+articles of jewellery which her ladyship will be called upon to
+identify; the third, the visit of Reginald Boyd to his father under
+the circumstances I have mentioned. I name these incidents in the
+order of their occurrence. From the first discovery of the murder
+suspicion pointed to Reginald Boyd as its probable perpetrator, but
+the disclosures made up to a certain point of the inquiry in the
+Coroner's Court were not considered sufficiently conclusive by the
+police to warrant his arrest. But he was kept under observation.
+Towards the conclusion of the second day of the inquiry an important
+witness came forward in the person of Dr. Pye, a gentleman who, we
+understand, has devoted his life to scientific pursuits. This
+gentleman resides in Shore Street, a street running parallel to
+Catchpole Square. The windows at the back of Dr. Pye's house directly
+face the front of the house occupied by Mr. Samuel Boyd. It has been
+his habit for years to keep up late at night for the purpose of making
+scientific experiments, and on the night of Friday the 1st of March he
+was so employed. At three o'clock on that night--that is to say, on
+the morning of Saturday, the 2nd--he was standing at the window of the
+room in which he was at work, when his attention was attracted by an
+unusual movement at the door of Samuel Boyd's house. It will be
+necessary to bear in mind that Catchpole Square is a _cul de sac_, and
+that it is very rarely indeed that any person enters there, and none,
+unless it be an entire stranger, with the intention of passing
+through. The entrance to the Square is through a hooded passage
+bearing the ominous name of Deadman's Court. As I have told you, Dr.
+Pye was standing at the window--as he will tell you aimlessly, and as
+I submit in the abstracted mood habitual to students after some hours
+of secluded work--when he dimly observed the opening of the street
+door. An incident so unusual and suspicious made a strong impression
+upon him, and for the purpose of ascertaining the cause he brought
+forward an ingenious contrivance of his own invention by means of
+which he is enabled to throw a flashlight a considerable distance upon
+any desired spot, while the operator remains in shadow. The flashlight
+revealed the figure of a man standing at the door in an attitude of
+fear; Dr. Pye distinguished quite clearly the features of this man,
+who at that time was a stranger to him. The man remained at the door
+in his fear-struck attitude for several moments; then, the flashlight
+extinguished, Dr. Pye observed the shadow of a man--the night was
+dark, and he could distinguish no more than the shadow--slink
+cautiously and stealthily out of the Square. This was the end of the
+incident. During the inquest Dr. Pye properly conceived it to be his
+duty, in the interests of justice, to make the incident public, and he
+addressed a note to the Coroner, stating that he had evidence of more
+or less importance to tender. He was called and examined, and the
+statement he made was to the effect I have described. His examination
+over, a remarkable incident occurred. Glancing around the Court his
+eyes fell upon Reginald Boyd, and he was instantly struck with the
+resemblance he bore to the man he had seen in Catchpole Square; and
+his further examination elicited this fact. It is a proof of his
+fair-mindedness that he warned the jury not to be led into a possible
+error by attaching a too great importance to this resemblance, which
+he suggested might be accidental. If so, it was a remarkable accident.
+While offering this warning against a possible miscarriage of
+justice--of which I admit there are instances on record--he was not to
+be shaken from the positive fact of the extraordinary resemblance.
+Observe that he was not aware that the man whom he pointed out in the
+Coroner's Court was the son of Samuel Boyd. Now, in this connection,
+there will be found a discrepancy between Dr. Pye and another witness,
+Mrs. Abel Death, as to the hour at which the man emerged from the
+house. Dr. Pye says it was three o'clock, while Mrs. Death avers that
+she was in Catchpole Square from half-past two till half-past three,
+during which space of time the door of the house in Catchpole Square
+was not opened. Dr. Pye fixes the time by his watch, which he says he
+consulted, while Mrs. Death fixes it by the striking of the hour from
+St. Michael's Church, which is in the immediate vicinity of Catchpole
+Square. Stress will no doubt be laid upon this discrepancy to
+discredit Dr. Pye's evidence, but it should not be allowed to weigh
+with you. Either of these witnesses may be reasonably and blamelessly
+mistaken, and the strong probability is that it is Mrs. Death, who
+does not possess a watch or a clock, and whose agitation at the
+disappearance of her husband may easily have led her into error. But
+anyway this discrepancy is of small significance. Whether it was at
+three or two o'clock does not affect the fact that a man was seen
+coming from the house----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I beg my learned friend's pardon. The unsupported
+evidence of a witness in relation to the important incident he
+describes does not establish the fact, and such a word should not be
+used."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I withdraw the word. You will have the evidence, and will
+judge of its value. It is not conceivable that Dr. Pye had any
+personal interest to serve in coming forward----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Again I beg pardon. What is conceivable and not
+conceivable will probably be made clear before we finish."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I will pass over the incident. The presumption is that
+the man was either the murderer or an accomplice. Now, how does the
+prisoner, Reginald Boyd, stand in relation to what took place on that
+night? We have his own statement that he left his father's house and
+was in his lodgings by midnight, and if he could produce a witness or
+witnesses to confirm his statement, and to prove that he did not leave
+his lodgings again during the night, it would effectually dispose of
+the peril in which he stands in regard to the resemblance between him
+and the man whom Dr. Pye saw. But such a witness has not been, and I
+venture to say will not be, produced, and we have only his bare word
+to fall back upon. Remember that he had a latchkey, and could let
+himself into the house without the knowledge of the inmate. We may
+take it for granted that Samuel Boyd, before he retired to bed,
+chained and bolted the street door, and in these circumstances the
+latchkey would be useless.
+
+"I come now to the other prisoner, Richard Remington. No suspicion was
+entertained of his complicity in the crime, and there was no evidence
+connecting him with it until Monday night of this week. When Reginald
+Boyd was arrested Richard Remington was acting as his cousin's
+attorney, and on that very day he was seen posting up bills of large
+rewards, as stated therein, for the discovery of the murderer and Mr.
+Abel Death. On the face of it this simultaneous posting up of the two
+bills would go some way to directly associate Mr. Abel Death with the
+murder. I do not say that this was the intention, but it is open to
+that construction. If such an intention existed the design was artful
+and wicked, and Richard Remington's personal participation in the
+bill-posting--bill-sticking not being his trade--is open to another
+construction, that it was done for the purpose of averting suspicion
+from himself. On the following day, Friday, a notice appeared on the
+street door of the house in Catchpole Square, which stated that
+Richard Remington was absent on business, and that all communications
+for him were to be left at a certain address. Inquiry was made for him
+at that address by a witness who will be called, and nothing could be
+learned about him. I mention this incidentally, as indicating that he
+wished it to be supposed he was living at that address. If this were
+so, for what reason did he make it public, when he was not to be found
+there? Saturday, Sunday, and the daylight of Monday, passed without
+anything being heard of him; but late that night an incident of a very
+startling nature occurred, in which he was the principal actor.
+
+"Constable Applebee was on his beat, which embraced Catchpole Square,
+and during the storm which came on suddenly at two in the morning, he
+took refuge in Deadman's Court, which you will recollect is the only
+approach to the Square. During a lull in the storm the constable
+stepped from his shelter to reconnoitre the houses in the Square. He
+had not been there a minute before the door of Samuel Boyd's house was
+flung open, and a man ran out, almost into the constable's arms. This
+man was Richard Remington."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXIII.
+
+                      CONTINUATION OF THE TRIAL.
+
+
+"His outer garments were such as a Mongolian wears, and in his hand
+was the mask of a Chinaman's face. He carried also in his hand a
+hollow cane of the reign of Charles the Second, in which, as you will
+presently hear, a singular discovery was made. It is not for me to say
+why this disguise was assumed; it is sufficient to state the fact. In
+response to Constable Applebee's calls for assistance Detective
+Lambert came up, and afterwards Constable Pond and another. The
+prisoner gave no explanation of his singular disguise, but made some
+rambling statement to the effect that the murderers of Samuel Boyd
+were in the house. In compliance with his urgent and reiterated
+requests the officers Lambert and Applebee accompanied him into the
+house, and made a thorough search, from top to bottom, without
+discovering any person there. Remington was then taken to the police
+station, and charged. When he was searched a document was found upon
+him of a nature so incriminating, and so direct in its terms, as to
+furnish the strongest proof of the guilt of the prisoner, Reginald
+Boyd. The defence will probably call this evidence presumptive; I call
+it conclusive. The document runs as follows:--
+
+(Mr. Marlow here read the Memoranda made by Samuel Boyd on the night
+of Friday, March 1st, with which our readers are already
+acquainted.[1])
+
+
+********************
+
+[Footnote 1: See pages 97, 98.--Author.]
+
+********************
+
+
+"You will perceive that the document is dated the 1st of March, and
+there can be no doubt that it was the last writing made by Samuel Boyd
+before he was cruelly murdered. That he was in dread of violence at
+the hands of his son is clear. No reference is made in the document to
+the prisoner Remington, but there is a presumptive accusation against
+the missing man, Abel Death, of being in a conspiracy to rob him.
+Observe also the reference to the latchkey possessed by his son, and
+the words, 'If he does not get in through the front door he will find
+some other way; he is better acquainted with the ins and outs of this
+house than I am myself.' In this voice from the grave--for so it may
+be aptly termed--is revealed a deplorable state of feeling between
+father and son which strengthens the case against the prisoner Boyd.
+They were at enmity; each accused the other of robbery or attempted
+robbery, and matters thus were ripe for violence. Is it too wild a
+presumption that Remington removed the incriminating document for the
+purpose of shielding his confederate, and, by implication, himself?
+The document informed them, also, that Samuel Boyd had not yet made
+his will, and that if he died that night his son would become heir at
+law. A strange feature in the case is that the paper was not
+immediately destroyed, but there are numbers of instances in which
+criminals have been brought to justice by over-confidence and by their
+neglect to attend to small matters over which they believed themselves
+to have absolute control. In addition to this document another
+remarkable discovery was made at the police station. On the night of
+the murder Lady Wharton had deposited with Samuel Boyd certain
+valuable jewels as security for an advance of money to be made to her,
+and up to last Monday night no trace of these jewels had been
+discovered. Now, the Charles the Second cane carried from the house by
+the prisoner Remington was hollow, and in it were found the missing
+jewels. Lady Wharton will be called to identify them. Against
+Remington a search of his lodgings furnished further evidence. Under
+his bed was found a rope and grapnel, which he purchased on Friday the
+1st of March----"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Will the date be proved?"
+
+Mr. Marlow: "The shopkeeper from whom he purchased it will give
+evidence of the date. It may be asked, what object could there have
+been in Remington purchasing a rope and grapnel to get over the wall
+at the back when Reginald Boyd, with whom we accuse him of being in
+collusion, possessed a key to the front door? The answer to that is
+that they deemed it necessary to be prepared, in case the street door
+was chained and bolted. Or it may have been done, and the rope and
+grapnel used, to divert suspicion from themselves, and to make it
+appear that burglars unacquainted with the premises had effected an
+entrance and committed the crime. It is most suspicious that in
+Remington's evidence at the inquest he made no allusion to the rope
+and grapnel, although the statement of Detective Lambert was before
+him. For what other reason than to screen himself could he have been
+guilty of the suppression? Another piece of evidence will be
+forthcoming. Before either of the prisoners was arrested Detective
+Lambert, during his examination of the house, took photographs of the
+bloody footprints leading from Samuel Boyd's bedroom to the small
+window at the back, through which the person or persons effecting an
+unlawful entrance had passed. Since Remington's arrest photographs
+have been taken of the soles of his boots, and they exactly correspond
+with those of the bloody footprints. As to another startling incident
+in this remarkable crime--the visit of the man disguised as Samuel
+Boyd to Lady Wharton in Bournemouth--we have only conjecture, and I
+make no comment upon it other than that it is a mystery which has yet
+to be elucidated.
+
+"I have now gone through the principal features of the murder and its
+attendant circumstances, and I think your worship will agree with me
+that there is no course open to you except to put the prisoners on
+their trial at the Criminal Court."
+
+At the conclusion of this address the general opinion of the
+disinterested persons in court was that the accused were guilty, and
+that there was no escape for them. There were, however, seated at the
+solicitors' table a few more experienced who judged from Mr.
+Pallaret's manner that he by no means despaired of an acquittal. A
+twisted note had been handed to him, on which was written, "He is the
+man. Call Joseph Pitou."
+
+Witnesses for the prosecution were then examined, of whom the first
+was Lambert, whose evidence was similar to that given at the inquest,
+and who testified to the execution of the search warrant in Dick's
+lodgings. Mr. Pallaret asked him but few questions.
+
+"You have been engaged in getting up this case?"
+
+"Yes, under instructions."
+
+"From time to time you have come into communication with Mr. Richard
+Remington?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Has he assisted or retarded you in your inquiries?"
+
+"He has been of material assistance to me."
+
+"At whose suggestion were photographs of his boots taken?"
+
+"At his. Since his arrest I received a message from him saying that he
+had a communication to make to me. He then related the circumstances
+of his breaking into the house in Catchpole Square, and gave me his
+boots. He also showed me traces of a scar on his hand, caused by a
+wound he received when he broke the window at the back of the house,
+from which the blood had dropped as he walked through the passages and
+rooms."
+
+"Did it appear to you as if he wished to conceal anything?"
+
+"It did not. He was quite frank and open with me."
+
+"In pursuance of your duties you served subp[oe]nas upon certain
+witnesses?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Among others, upon Dr. Pye?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"In an interview with him you asked him to show you the flashlight
+device by means of which, according to his statement, he saw a man
+come from the house in Catchpole Square in the middle of the night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"What was his reply?"
+
+"That it was under repair, and he could not produce it."
+
+Then followed the evidence of the reporter of "The Little Busy Bee,"
+and that of Constable Applebee, neither of whom was cross-examined by
+the defence.
+
+At this point of the trial it was observed that a communication was
+made to Detective Lambert, who hastily took his departure, but not
+before he had passed a piece of paper to Mr. Pallaret, upon which was
+scribbled, "If you do not see me in Court delay the proceedings as
+long as possible. If Dr. Pye's examination is over before I return do
+not allow him to leave the Court. Most important."
+
+Lady Wharton was next called. She narrated the circumstances under
+which she had entrusted her jewels to Samuel Boyd, and identified
+them. Among the questions put to her under cross-examination, which
+was purposely prolonged by Mr. Pallaret, were the following:
+
+"Are any of the jewels you gave the deceased on Friday, March 1st,
+missing?"
+
+"No. They are all here."
+
+"Have you a list of the jewels you gave the person who personated
+Samuel Boyd in Bournemouth on the following Friday night?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You could identify them?"
+
+"Certainly I could. I wish I had the opportunity."
+
+Mr. Higgins then appeared in the witness box, shaking visibly, his
+features twitching spasmodically. From him the prosecution elicited
+that Dick had purchased a rope and grapnel at his shop on March 1st,
+and had paid half the purchase money at the time, promising to pay the
+balance in the course of the following week, which promise had not
+been kept. Dick could not understand what his object was in giving
+this false evidence as to the date of the purchase, unless it were
+that he conceived himself injured by not obtaining the blackmail he
+had hoped to gain. He was subjected to a long cross-examination, in
+the course of which he became hopelessly involved, and contradicted
+himself so repeatedly that he was warned by the magistrate. He finally
+retired from the witness box utterly discredited and demoralised.
+
+Dr. Pye's name being called, he took his place in the witness box. His
+face was calm and composed, and he cast his eyes around with a sense
+of power which produced a profound impression among the spectators. In
+a passionless voice he repeated the statement he had made at the
+Coroner's Court, not deviating by a word from his description of the
+events of the fatal night. His statement finished, the examination
+proceeded:
+
+"When you gave your evidence at the inquest you expressed some doubt
+as to the prisoner Reginald Boyd being the man you saw come from the
+house?"
+
+"There came to my mind instances of mistaken resemblance in past
+trials of importance, and I conceived it my duty to warn the jury not
+to be led into error."
+
+"You suggested that you might be mistaken?"
+
+"I made the suggestion. No man is infallible."
+
+"Have you carefully considered the matter since you appeared in the
+Coroner's Court?"
+
+"I have."
+
+"Has that consideration strengthened or removed any doubts you may
+have had?"
+
+"It has removed any possible doubt that may have been in my mind."
+
+"Look at the prisoner, Reginald Boyd. Can you say now with certainty
+that he is the man you saw?"
+
+"I can say he is, with certainty."
+
+"You are positive?"
+
+"Quite positive. The resemblance is so startling that there is only
+the barest possibility of my being mistaken."
+
+"Now, as to the hour. You looked at your watch?"
+
+"The incident was so unusual that I instinctively took my watch from
+my pocket. It was within a minute of three o'clock."
+
+"You are aware that another witness, who will probably be called for
+the defence, states that she was in Catchpole Square at that hour,
+that she heard the clock of Saint Michael's Church strike three, and
+that the door of the house of the deceased was not opened?"
+
+"I am aware of it. She is mistaken."
+
+"Did you hear the clock of St. Michael's Church strike?"
+
+"I did not."
+
+"That is all, Dr. Pye."
+
+Mr. Pallaret then rose and commenced his cross-examination, which had
+been looked forward to with some eagerness.
+
+"Your name is Pye?"
+
+"That is my name."
+
+"Christian name?"
+
+"Charles Stuart."
+
+"Charles Stuart Pye. Have you ever passed under any other name?"
+
+"The question is an insult."
+
+"I do not intend it as such. I am defending two men who are accused of
+an atrocious crime, one of them the son of the man who was murdered.
+Have you ever passed under any other name?"
+
+"Never."
+
+"Are you English born?"
+
+"My parents were English. I was born in Switzerland. If I speak with a
+slight foreign accent it is to be ascribed to the fact that my
+childhood was passed away from England, and that in my youth I
+travelled much in foreign countries."
+
+"Your English is very good. You speak more than one language?"
+
+"I speak French, German, and Italian."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"Forty-eight, I think. I cannot say with certainty, as my parents did
+not keep up my birthday."
+
+"In what part of Switzerland were you born?"
+
+"In Geneva, I believe. My parents never informed me, and I did not
+inquire."
+
+"It was a matter of no interest to you?"
+
+"None whatever."
+
+If you were born in Geneva the record of your birth will be found
+there?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"You call yourself Dr. Do you hold a diploma?"
+
+"I do not. I am called Dr. by courtesy."
+
+"Whose courtesy?"
+
+"General courtesy. It has grown into a fashion. I regard it as a
+compliment."
+
+The Magistrate: "Are these questions relevant, Mr. Pallaret?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Quite relevant, as your worship will see farther on. I
+shall not ask a question which does not affect the issue." (To the
+witness.) "I understand that you volunteered to give evidence at the
+inquest in the interests of justice?"
+
+"Simply that."
+
+"And had no personal interest to serve?"
+
+"None."
+
+"Are you acquainted with a person of the name of Ezra Lynn?
+
+"I am."
+
+"He is a money-lender?"
+
+"Yes. My acquaintance with him results from that."
+
+"I am sorry to hear it. Are you acquainted with a person of the name
+of Vinsen--calling himself Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you seen him lately?"
+
+"Not within the last few days."
+
+"We were anxious to have him here to-day, but I do not see him. We
+issued a subp[oe]na demanding his attendance. Not being able to
+ascertain his address we left it at your house. You are aware of
+that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Has he received the summons?
+
+"I am not aware that he has."
+
+"Can you inform us where he lives?"
+
+"I cannot."
+
+"Nor where he is at the present moment?"
+
+"I cannot inform you."
+
+Upon Dr. Pye's countenance there was not a trace of discomposure, and
+there was not a tremor in his voice; but the experienced lawyer, as
+skilful a judge of character as the man he was examining, knew that if
+a look could kill his minutes were numbered. There was one person in
+court, Mrs. Abel Death, who listened in bewilderment to the answers
+given by the witness with reference to Dr. Vinsen. This man, who had
+presented himself to her as Dr. Pye's viceroy, who had given her
+money, who had poisoned her ears against Reginald Boyd and Dick
+Remington, was sitting within a few yards of her, and yet Dr. Pye
+denied all knowledge of his whereabouts. What was the meaning of this
+falsehood? Looking at Dr. Vinsen she saw that his eyes were wandering
+around, as though seeking a means of escape. His face was pallid, his
+lips were quivering, his hands trembled as they wiped the moisture
+from his forehead. Gracie had hated him from the first, and it was
+this, perhaps, that had caused her to absent herself from home. The
+mother's heart was wrung with anguish, with doubt, with despair.
+
+Mr. Pallaret continued his cross-examination.
+
+"Now, about this flashlight of yours, which revealed the face of the
+man you say you saw. A contrivance or device of your own, I
+understand?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Have you brought it into court?"
+
+"I have not."
+
+"Is it in your house?"
+
+"It is not."
+
+"No person connected with this inquiry has seen it. You refused to
+show it to Detective Lambert, saying it was under repair. Is it still
+under repair?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Give me the name of the tradesman who is repairing it?"
+
+"I decline to give it. The device is a secret invention, and I will
+not run the danger of losing the benefit of it."
+
+"The question is one I cannot compel you to answer, so I will not
+repeat it; but if the men whom I am defending are put on their trial
+in a higher court we will see that this so-called flashlight is
+produced. I gather from you that on the night of the 1st of March you
+were induced to use it by seeing with your naked eye a man standing at
+the door of Samuel Boyd's house. The night was very dark. How did you
+know it was a man?"
+
+"Dark as it was I distinguished the figure of a man."
+
+"On that night there was no suspicion that a murder had been
+committed. What made you regard as suspicious so simple a circumstance
+as a man coming out of the house?"
+
+"I had never before seen any one in Catchpole Square at that hour of
+the night."
+
+"Shall we call it a kind of instinct that whispered of a foul deed
+done?"
+
+"Call it what you please. You are drawing upon your fancy; I am
+stating facts."
+
+"Very well; we will stick to facts. You saw the figure of a man, and
+your suspicions were aroused. How long a time elapsed before you had
+recourse to your flashlight?"
+
+"I used it almost immediately."
+
+"Your process of reasoning was almost as swift as your flashlight. Do
+you keep your device in the room in which you were standing?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"How far from the window?"
+
+"Within reach of my hand."
+
+"Before it was ready for its work some little time must have elapsed.
+How is the light produced?"
+
+"By an arrangement of magnesium wire."
+
+"Which requires to be ignited?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"By means of a match?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It is, I suppose, necessary that the device be opened before you can
+light the wire?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You saw the figure of a man, your suspicions were aroused, you
+brought forward the flashlight, you opened it, you found the match
+box, you took from it a match, you struck the match, you applied the
+flame to the magnesium wire, you threw the light upon the door in
+Catchpole Square. That is how it was done?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"To strike a match requires two hands, one to hold the box, the other
+to hold the match. You admit that?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"So that, having brought forward your flashlight device, you had to
+set it down before you could strike the match?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"And then you had to lift the box again before you could apply the
+flame of the match to the magnesium wire. Do you expect us to believe
+that all these operations were executed simultaneously and
+instantaneously?"
+
+"No, I do not."
+
+"Good. Timing these various processes of thought and action, we may
+assume that they occupied a couple of minutes?"
+
+"Not so long."
+
+"A minute and a half? I don't think I can accept less than a minute
+and a half for the accomplishment of the work I have described?"
+
+"Say a minute and a half."
+
+"I accept it. And all this time the man was standing at the door,
+waiting for you?"
+
+"Again, these are your words, not mine."
+
+"Do you realise how long a minute and a half is to a murderer under
+these circumstances? It is an eternity. Place yourself in the position
+of the man, and time it by your watch. How slowly the seconds pass!
+Between each there is a thrill of agony. I put it to you that it is
+incredible that a murderer, in fear of momentary detection, eager to
+make a swift escape from the scene of his horrible crime, standing in
+a place so lonely and deserted as Catchpole Square, would remain for
+so long a time at the door in suspense?"
+
+"He must have done so, for I witnessed it."
+
+"I pass to another subject. I am anxious, like yourself, to adhere to
+fact. Cast your eyes around the court; let them rest upon the seat you
+vacated to take your place in the witness box. Close to that seat do
+you see Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I do not." Not a muscle in Dr. Pye's face moved as he gave this
+answer.
+
+"You see the man I am pointing at, the man next to whom you have been
+seated these last two hours. Is not that man Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"He is not."
+
+"Who is he, then?"
+
+"His name is Ezra Lynn."
+
+Unable to control herself, Mrs. Death rose and exclaimed,
+
+"It is not true! It is Dr. Vinsen!"
+
+A wave of excitement passed over the court; the spectators craned
+their necks, exclamations of astonishment escaped their lips, and for
+a few moments all was confusion. When order was restored, Mr. Pallaret
+said,--
+
+"I have done with you for the present, Dr. Pye. I must ask your
+worship not to allow the witness, or any of the witnesses, to leave
+the court."
+
+The Magistrate: "They will all remain. The officers will see to it."
+
+Apparently unmoved and unruffled, Dr. Pye returned to his seat. Those
+of the spectators who were in a position to see observed a smile on
+his lips.
+
+Mr. Pallaret, turning to the magistrate, then said that it was not
+customary in such cases as the present for the defence to make a long
+speech in a police court, but he was induced by special circumstances
+to deviate from the usual custom, and he was influenced also by the
+accused, whose earnest desire it was that all their proceedings should
+be made public with as little delay as possible. The only important
+witness brought forward by the prosecution against Mr. Reginald Boyd
+was Dr. Pye, and he should be able to prove that this witness was
+utterly unworthy of credit. Evidence of a startling nature would be
+presented which would suggest the gravest doubts in connection with
+him. (At this moment a slight bustle took place in court, caused by
+the hurried entrance of a messenger bearing a note for Mr. Pallaret.
+The learned counsel paused to receive and read the note, and then
+wrote a line in reply, which was handed to the messenger, who
+immediately departed.)
+
+"I do not disguise from your worship," continued Mr. Pallaret, "that
+my object is to obtain the immediate acquittal of the accused at your
+hands, or, in the event of their being committed for trial, to show
+that the case against them is so flimsy and unreliable, that to refuse
+bail would be a distinct injustice. Stripped of the defence which I am
+in a position to make, I admit that the circumstantial evidence would
+be sufficiently strong to render their detention necessary, but even
+without the defence it would not be strong enough to prove their
+guilt. I take the opportunity of emphasising the extreme danger that
+lies in evidence of this character. One of our greatest writers has
+said, 'Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an
+innocent man, that, directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay
+him.' Such might have been the issue of the charge brought against the
+men I am defending, but happily they are in a position to meet it in a
+conclusive manner, and, I do not hesitate to say, to prove their
+innocence. Although not quite relevant to the issue affecting
+themselves, I cannot refrain from saying that in establishing their
+innocence they will also establish the innocence of an absent man
+against whom the finger of suspicion has been pointed. I refer to Mr.
+Abel Death. With respect to one of the accused I shall unfold a story
+which has in it many of the elements of romance."
+
+Mr. Pallaret then described the part which Dick had played in the
+Mystery. With breathless interest the spectators listened to the
+recital, the effect of which was heightened by the eloquence of the
+narrator.
+
+"Mr. Richard Remington" (proceeded Mr. Pallaret), "convinced of the
+innocence of his cousin's husband, recognising the dangerous position
+in which he stood, and with a certain suspicion in his mind, conceived
+and carried out a plan as novel, as ingenious, and as _bizarre_, as
+has ever been disclosed in a court of justice. On two nights, when he
+was in the house of the murdered man, he had observed that a
+flashlight had been thrown upon the windows from the back room of the
+house inhabited by Dr. Pye. He resolved to present a problem to that
+person. As skilful in disguise--I may mention that he had been a short
+time on the stage--as the villain who personated Samuel Boyd, and
+robbed Lady Wharton of her jewels in Bournemouth, he dressed himself
+in a suit of Samuel Boyd's clothes, and, in theatrical parlance, 'made
+up' his face to resemble that of the murdered man. Thus disguised he
+stationed himself at the front window of Samuel Boyd's house, and upon
+more than one occasion experienced the satisfaction of having the
+flashlight thrown upon him. He put into execution another and a bolder
+idea, the successful result of which led to his arrest under
+circumstances which you have heard described by Constable Applebee and
+Detective Lambert. He was convinced that persons found access to the
+house by some means and in some way unknown to him. If his suspicions
+were verified the natural conclusion would be that those persons (I
+use the plural advisedly) were the murderers. He determined to set
+watch for them, and to remain hidden in the house for several days and
+nights. In order to carry this out successfully, and to throw dust
+into the eyes of the suspected persons, he affixed a notice to the
+street door, to the effect that he would be absent from the house for
+some time.
+
+"In the room on the first floor which had been used as an office there
+is, among other singular articles, the wax figure of a Chinaman,
+suitably attired. This figure is sitting in a hooded chair, what is
+called, I believe, a grandmother's chair. Mr. Remington had procured
+from a theatrical costumier in Covent Garden the mask of a Chinaman's
+face and a costume similar to that which clothed the wax figure. His
+design was, when he heard sounds of any person or persons moving in
+any part of the house, to place the wax figure in a cupboard in the
+office, and take its place. It was a bold and hazardous design,
+fraught with danger to himself, but, determined if possible to bring
+the miscreants to justice, he allowed no considerations for his
+personal safety to stand in his way. He entered the house on the
+Thursday night of last week, and did not leave it until the Monday
+night of this week. Animated by his high resolve, stern and fixed in
+his purpose, behold him in that lonely house, on the watch! Thursday
+and Friday nights passed, and nothing occurred. Neither was he
+disturbed on the nights of Saturday and Sunday. He remained there in
+absolute darkness, confident that the time would come.
+
+"And here let me offer my tribute of praise and admiration for the
+courage, the patience, I may say the heroism he displayed during this
+long vigil, this arduous and almost sleepless watch, undertaken out of
+affection for the family to which he is related, and to prove the
+innocence of a man falsely accused of a horrible crime.
+
+"On Monday night, or rather at about two o'clock on Tuesday morning,
+his patience was rewarded. He heard sounds in the passage below which,
+faint as they were, denoted that he was not now alone in the house. He
+had already assumed his disguise and removed the wax figure of the
+Chinaman from the chair. All he had to do was to take its place. The
+back of the hooded chair being towards the door he could not see who
+entered when it was softly opened. Nor could he distinguish the voices
+of the men, for they spoke in whispers. They moved about the room in
+their stocking feet, and from the few words that reached his ears he
+gathered that they had come once more to search for the jewels which
+Lady Wharton had given Mr. Samuel Boyd on the night of her visit to
+him. Now, I call your attention to the last words of the document
+written by the unfortunate man on that fatal night--'Notation 2647.'
+Mr. Remington did not dare to turn his head to watch the movements of
+the men as they moved about the room. Disappointed in their search one
+of the men, in his passion, shook the hooded chair so violently that
+the cane in the hand of the supposed wax figure--which Mr. Remington
+also held, in order to completely carry out the deception--slipped
+from his grasp to the ground. The man who picked it up pressed, by
+accident, one of the raised letters in the knob of the cane. This
+pressure caused the figure 2 to spring up. In a state of intense
+excitement the man drew his companion's attention to the circumstance,
+and made a reference to the notation, thus proving that he was
+familiar with it. He had pressed the letter B, the second in the
+alphabet, and it had released the figure 2. He pressed the sixth
+letter, F, and the figure 6 was released, the fourth letter, D, and
+the figure 4 was released, and the seventh letter, G, releasing the
+figure 7, the notation was complete, 2647. Mr. Remington, his sense of
+hearing preternaturally sharpened, heard the whispered comments of the
+men as figure after figure was released, and heard the click of the
+silver knob as it sprang up and revealed to the delighted eyes of the
+conspirators the jewels which had been concealed in the hollow of
+the cane. Thanks to Mr. Remington's prompt action their delight was
+short-lived. You will recollect that at this hour on Monday night a
+storm was raging, and that the lightning was very vivid. What followed
+was the work of a moment. Mr. Remington started to his feet, and as he
+did so a flash of lightning illumined the scene. One of the
+conspirators held in his hand a lighted candle, the other the cane
+containing the treasure. He seized the cane, and dashed the lighted
+candle to the ground, thereby plunging the room in darkness, all the
+blacker because of the lightning flash that had passed through it, and
+flew into the passage and out of the house, to fall into the hands of
+Constable Applebee. It is unfortunate that in that brief moment of
+rapid and resolute action he did not see the faces of the
+conspirators, but he has his suspicions who they were, and has
+communicated them to me. Before these proceedings are ended we may see
+those suspicions verified. I have now related the true story of Mr.
+Remington's adventures, with all its strange and remarkable episodes,
+and with the trite remark that truth is stranger than fiction I will
+call the witnesses for the defence."
+
+The first witness was the costumier in Covent Garden, who testified to
+Dick's purchase of the Chinese mask and costume. He thought they were
+for the stage. Such purchases were made of him every day.
+
+The next witness was Mrs. Abel Death, who, despite her distress, gave
+her evidence of the disappearance of her husband and her search for
+him in a fairly clear manner. When she was questioned as to the
+disappearance of her daughter Gracie, the counsel for the prosecution
+intervened, and contended that these private domestic matters had
+nothing to do with the case. Mr. Pallaret, answering that before he
+was done he would show that they had a direct bearing upon it, was
+allowed to proceed.
+
+"Now, Mrs. Death, on the day on which you made your application in
+this Court respecting your husband's disappearance you were visited by
+a person who introduced himself as a doctor. What name did he give?"
+
+"Dr. Vinsen, sir."
+
+"He spoke of Dr. Pye as his intimate friend?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Do you see Dr. Vinsen in Court at the present moment?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I see him."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Let the man seated next to Dr. Pye stand up."
+
+With evident reluctance, and vainly endeavouring to conceal his
+agitation, Dr. Vinsen stood up.
+
+"Is that Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"Yes, sir, that is the gentleman."
+
+"But Dr. Pye, his intimate friend, declares he is not Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I can't help that, sir. He _is_ Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"You swear it?"
+
+"I swear it, sir."
+
+"Is there the slightest doubt in your mind?"
+
+"Not the slightest, sir."
+
+"Can you give me any reason why Dr. Pye, Dr. Vinsen's intimate friend,
+should say he had not seen him for some days past?"
+
+"No, sir, I can't make it out."
+
+"In his visits to you did you have any conversation about the murder?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"Did he make any reference to Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington in connection with it?"
+
+"Yes, sir. It was his opinion, he said, that Mr. Reginald Boyd did it,
+and that Mr. Remington was mixed up with it, and that, to keep off
+suspicion from themselves, they were trying to throw it on my poor
+husband."
+
+"Did you believe it?"
+
+"I didn't know what to believe, sir, I've been that distracted."
+
+"I sincerely pity you; but do not lose heart. Did your daughter Gracie
+believe it----but stop, I must put it another way. Did your daughter
+Gracie say anything to you on the subject?"
+
+"Yes, sir. She said she didn't believe it. The poor child didn't like
+Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"That is all, Mrs. Death."
+
+No questions being asked by the counsel for the prosecution, Mrs.
+Death's place was taken by Mr. Rawdon, whose face was very white when
+he stepped into the box.
+
+"You were one of the jury at the inquest held upon the body of Mr.
+Samuel Boyd?"
+
+"I was."
+
+"You are acquainted with Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"I have had business dealings with him."
+
+"Borrowed money of him?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I will trouble Mr. Ezra Lynn, or Dr. Vinsen, to stand up again. Thank
+you. Is that Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"Not Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+"I don't know Dr. Vinsen."
+
+"The inquest extended over a period of eleven days. Now, I ask you
+whether, during those eleven days, you had frequent communication with
+Mr. Ezra Lynn?"
+
+"I saw him once or twice."
+
+"Be careful. Did you not see him six or seven times?"
+
+"Probably."
+
+"You owe him a large sum of money?"
+
+"I owe him money."
+
+"He holds an execution over all your goods and furniture which he can
+put into execution at any moment? No evasions, sir!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"On those six or seven occasions on which you saw Mr. Lynn while the
+inquest was in progress what was the subject of conversation between
+you?"
+
+"The money I owe him."
+
+"Nothing else? Not the murder?"
+
+"It was mentioned. Everybody was talking of it."
+
+"Now, there is no obligation upon you to answer the question I am
+about to put, but if you reply I warn you to bear in mind that you are
+upon your oath. In the course of your conversations with the man who
+could sell you up at a moment's notice, did he express a wish that a
+particular verdict should be returned, and did he supply you with any
+information concerning Mr. Reginald Boyd to guide you in furthering
+that wish? You are silent. Do you decline to answer?"
+
+"Yes, I do. It has nothing to do with the case. Everybody has an
+opinion about the murder."
+
+"I am not asking you about his opinion, but about his wish, and about
+certain information with which he supplied you. You are still silent.
+We shall know what construction to place upon your refusal to give a
+plain answer to a plain question. You can return to your seat, Mr.
+Rawdon, unless counsel for the prosecution desires to cross-examine
+you."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I have no questions to ask the witness; and I may add
+that I fail to see the drift of several of the questions my learned
+friend has put to the witnesses."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "When I have finished it will be seen that there is not
+a question I have put which is not justified. In all my experience I
+have never known so foul a conspiracy as that which I hope to lay
+bare. Call Joseph Pitou."
+
+The foreign gentleman with the curled moustache who had been stationed
+behind Dr. Pye left his seat, and made his way to the witness box, and
+for the first time Dr. Pye had a full view of his swarthy face. They
+gazed steadily at each other, and for so long a time that it seemed to
+be a challenge which should drop his eyes first. This strange and
+steadfast gaze drew upon the two actors the attention of every person
+in Court. At length, with a gesture expressive of satisfaction, Joseph
+Pitou turned to Mr. Pallaret, who had watched the scene so earnestly
+that it almost appeared as if he were also playing a part in it.
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXIV.
+
+                     A STARTLING DENOUEMENT.
+
+
+"What is your name and calling?"
+
+"I am of the Criminal Investigation Department in Paris. Joseph Pitou,
+a name well known."
+
+"We are familiar with it in England. You have come to London on
+special business?"
+
+"In association with my esteemed _confrA"re_, Monsieur Lambert, I have
+come to make the arrest of a notorious criminal."
+
+"You speak excellent English?"
+
+"You are pleased to say so. It is to me as my mother tongue; as is
+also Italian, German, and various dialects of the Turkish and Polish
+languages."
+
+"What is the name of the notorious criminal you have come to arrest?"
+
+"Louis Lorenz."
+
+"Do you hope to be able to lay hands on him?"
+
+"I can lay this hand on him at any moment."
+
+"What is the nature of his crime?"
+
+"Permit me. Of his many crimes. Many robberies, attended with extreme
+brutality. And worse than robberies. One positive murder in Gallicia;
+another probable murder in Vienna; another in St. Petersburg."
+
+"Up to this day he has escaped?"
+
+"Yes, he has escaped, always escaped. Condemned to the galleys in
+Vienna; a week afterwards, flown. Sent to Siberia in Russia;
+disappeared on the road. Sentenced to death in Gallicia; his cell
+empty the day after he was put into it."
+
+"A man of rare talent?"
+
+"Of immense talent. His plans laid with the brain of a master; money
+ready for bribes; confederates ready to obey orders. Nothing has been
+too difficult for him to accomplish."
+
+"What was the principal motive for his crimes? Money?"
+
+"It is curious. Money sometimes, but never money alone. In every case
+his victim was possessed of some rare treasures of art which Lorenz
+coveted, and would have trodden through blood to obtain. As it
+happens, he trod through much blood. In this way many valuable
+antiques have disappeared. I have a record of them. Search has been
+made for them throughout the wide world, and they are still
+undiscovered. For years I have been on the track of them. A clue fell
+into my hands, and I followed it up. I hold a warrant for the man's
+arrest, and soon justice will be satisfied."
+
+"Louis Lorenz can be no common criminal?"
+
+"My faith, no! Louis Lorenz is a prince, an emperor of criminals. I
+have hunted for him in every city in Europe and America, and for the
+art treasures he has stolen. Not one has seen the light; not one has
+been offered to dealers or connoisseurs. He has been known here, and
+known there, as a man who dabbled in science. It has been said he is
+in search of the Philosopher's Stone, of the elixir of life. He has
+imposed even upon _savants_, who have been seduced into believing in
+the miracles he declared he would one day accomplish."
+
+"But if he presented himself in his own proper person how is it that
+he has not been caught, that he is still free?"
+
+"Never did he present himself in his own proper person. Always so
+disguised that it was impossible to identify him. He is an actor of
+the first class, a match for the Evil One himself. But for the powers
+of darkness man is sometimes a match."
+
+"'Be sure thy sin will find thee out?'"
+
+"Ah, monsieur, it is true."
+
+"You say it would be impossible to identify him with his clothes on.
+Would it be impossible to identify him with his clothes off?"
+
+"Ah, no, that is a different matter. He is branded on the back, on
+the breast."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "Is not my learned friend wandering from the case we are
+investigating--the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "No. Be patient, and you will understand; I will not
+keep you long in suspense." (To the witness.) "You say you can lay
+hands on Louis Lorenz at any moment. At this moment?"
+
+"At this moment."
+
+"Here in this court?"
+
+"Here in this court."
+
+"Then he must be in attendance?
+
+"He is in attendance."
+
+"Point him out."
+
+The witness extended his arm dramatically, and pointed to Dr. Pye.
+
+"That is the man!"
+
+A scene of indescribable excitement ensued. Exclamations of
+astonishment were heard on all sides, and everyone, with the exception
+of the French detective, the counsel for the defence, and Dr. Pye, was
+in commotion. They remained unmoved, the two former silent and
+watchful, the latter exhibiting not the least trace of agitation. In
+the midst of this excited scene loud exclamations were heard outside
+the court, where the people appeared to have caught the contagion, and
+presently the policemen near the door leading to the public
+thoroughfare were seen to be busily forcing a passage for the entrance
+of two persons, one a little girl, carried in the arms of detective
+Lambert, the other a man, white and emaciated, reclining in the arms
+of two constables. As they came into view a shriek from Mrs. Death
+resounded through the Court.
+
+"Abel! Abel!" she screamed, and her frenzied cry was followed by an
+interval of dead silence.
+
+Abel Death raised his head, and looked at his wife with a wan,
+affectionate smile; and Gracie, with a strange glitter in her large
+black eyes, cried in a hoarse voice,
+
+"It's all right, mother! It's all right, Dick! I said I'd find father,
+didn't I?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Let these witnesses be brought forward to this table,
+where they will have more breathing space. I must ask your worship to
+excuse me while I speak privately to them."
+
+Abel Death, who was very weak, was accommodated with a seat at the
+table, where he reclined, with a cushion at his back; Gracie, holding
+his hand, sat by his side; and between them and Mr. Pallaret and
+Lambert, a whispered conference was held, lasting several minutes. The
+conference over, Mr. Pallaret addressed the magistrate:
+
+"The proceedings in this case have been somewhat irregular, but not
+less irregular than I anticipated when I opened the defence. My
+object, as I informed your worship, was to obtain, not an adjournment
+of the case, but the immediate acquittal of the accused. I made the
+observation that the only evidence against Mr. Reginald Boyd was that
+given by the person who calls himself Dr. Pye, and it will not be
+disputed that his evidence is entirely discredited. Nay, I will go
+farther and say that it was fabricated for the purpose of weaving so
+strong a case of circumstantial evidence against two innocent men as
+to practically ensure their conviction of a crime which they did not
+commit. With respect to Mr. Richard Remington, you have heard the
+strange but true story of the part he has played in this mystery. When
+he was caught last Monday night in Catchpole Square his appeals to his
+captors to hurry into the house for the purpose of arresting the two
+men who were searching for treasure there while, disguised to resemble
+the wax figure of the Chinaman, he was seated in its chair, was
+doubtless regarded by many in this court as a mere invention; but I
+shall now be able to prove that it was no invention, and at the same
+time to establish the truth of the story I have related to you. The
+proof will be forthcoming in the evidence of this brave little girl,
+Gracie Death, who has played a part in this strange mystery as
+adventurous and romantic as that of Richard Remington himself. After
+she has given her evidence I shall call her father, Mr. Abel Death, if
+he is strong enough, to relate what he knows. He has, as it were,
+risen from the grave, and thanks to his brave little daughter, is
+enabled to make his appearance here to-day. I shudder to think what
+might have been his fate had the vile conspiracy I am unmasking been
+allowed to proceed, and had the conspirators been allowed to leave the
+court. In a charge so serious, and in circumstances so strange and
+unprecedented, I am confident that your worship and my learned friend
+for the prosecution will allow me every latitude; and in furtherance
+of this appeal I ask to be permitted to suspend the examination of
+Monsieur Joseph Pitou, for the purpose of examining the two new
+witnesses who are manifestly unfit to remain for a long time in the
+air of this Court."
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I have no objection to offer."
+
+"I thank my learned friend. Let Gracie Death go into the witness box."
+
+But before this could be done Gracie was seized with a fit of coughing
+which terribly shook her slight frame. There were few among the
+spectators that did not pity the child, who made brave efforts to
+check the cough, and who, when it was over, looked lovingly at her
+mother, and said,
+
+"It's all right, mother, don't you worry about it; only I've had to
+hold it back so long!"
+
+Then, all eyes upon her, she was assisted into the witness box, and a
+stool placed for her to stand upon, Detective Lambert stationing
+himself by her side to render her assistance if she needed it. When
+the Bible was handed to her the magistrate asked if she understood the
+nature of an oath; she replied that she was to tell the truth, the
+whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that she didn't mean to
+tell anything else. This being deemed satisfactory she was sworn, and
+her examination proceeded with.
+
+"What is your name?"
+
+"Gracie Death."
+
+"How old are you?"
+
+"I shall be thirteen soon, sha'n't I, mother?"
+
+"You left your home last Tuesday morning?"
+
+"Yes, sir, I did, and I was sorry for mother because I knew she'd
+worry. But I had to."
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because of Dick."
+
+The Magistrate: "Who is Dick?"
+
+"Dick Remington, my lordship."
+
+The magistrate was not the only one who smiled at the form of this
+reply.
+
+"What had Dick to do with your leaving your home? Tell us as much as
+you can?"
+
+"Well, sir, Dick and me had gone partners to find father, and to find
+out who murdered Samuel Boyd. I was sure father didn't do it, though a
+lot of people was wicked enough to say so, and Dick was sure Mr.
+Reginald didn't do it, and I believed what Dick believed, so I was
+sure, too. Dick was the captain of the ship, and I was first mate. He
+gave me things to do, and I did 'em as well as I could. I found
+out that Dr. Vinsen wasn't Dr. Vinsen at all, but Ezra Lynn, a
+money-lender. I always knew he was no good--yes, I did, mother! And I
+caught the sham doctor talking to Mr. Rawdon, the ironmonger, the man
+that was on the jury, and I saw him go into his shop. Well, when I saw
+the notice posted up in Catchpole Square that Dick had gone away, I
+couldn't make it out, though I knew that Dick was doing the right
+thing--he always does, you know--but I didn't like to be left out of
+it. I went to Mrs. Inspector Robson, who's been I can't tell you how
+kind to me--and so has Mr. Inspector Robson and that poor young lady
+there--but she couldn't say where Dick was, and I was that worried
+you'd hardly believe. Wait a bit, please--there's that cough of mine
+coming back again." After a silence of a minute or so, except for the
+hollow, rasping sounds she made, she said, with an odd kind of
+pathetic resignation, "It's taking it out of me now because I wouldn't
+let it have its way when it wanted to. I didn't dare, you know. Well,
+I worried and worried, and last Monday night I had my dream again."
+
+"What dream?"
+
+"About father. I've had it I don't know how many times, and every time
+father's come crying out to me to save him and to look for him in
+Catchpole Square. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I kept on thinking
+and thinking about it, and then I heard that Dick was taken up for the
+murder, and I had him to save as well as father. He'd been caught
+coming out of the house, where he'd been watching since Friday, so I
+says to myself, 'What Dick can do I can do,' and I makes up my mind to
+watch as he'd done, on the chance of catching the murderers. Dick said
+they'd been there, you know, and if they come once they might come
+again, all the more now that Dick was out of the way. That's where
+I've been from Tuesday night up till now."
+
+"How did you get into the house?"
+
+"Didn't Dick tell you? It's through the next house, where you can push
+open the door at the bottom of the steps. Then you go down to the
+cellar, and there's some bricks in the wall that you can take out and
+put back again. That's the way you get into the cellar of Samuel
+Boyd's house. There's a trap door in the ceiling that you can reach by
+standing on a broken chair; you push it up and scramble through, and
+there you are in Samuel Boyd's kitchen. I showed it to Dick, and
+perhaps he made use of it when he didn't want anybody to know how he
+got in and out of Mr. Boyd's house. And you can put everything back
+that artful that it'd take a clever one to find it out. So there I was
+in the house, with a loaf of bread that I bought with some money Dick
+give me. The water was on, and with that and the bread there was no
+fear of my starving for a little while. Nobody come on Tuesday night,
+and I kept myself snug. And nobody come on Wednesday. But I wouldn't
+give it up as a bad job, and I kept on watching and listening all day
+yesterday. Well, I don't know how late in the night it was, but I
+think it must have been two or three in the morning, when I heard
+somebody talking to somebody else in the downstairs passage. They
+talked very soft, but I heard 'em, and then they crept upstairs, and I
+slips into my hiding place, and watches through a chink. For I says to
+myself, 'If they come anywhere they'll come into the office.'"
+
+"Where was your hiding place?"
+
+"You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father
+worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's
+hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the
+side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room,
+and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the
+pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and
+there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the
+office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I
+hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my
+throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't
+you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in,
+without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently
+they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the
+ground. I knew why they did that--so that the light couldn't be seen
+through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being
+to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued
+to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them."
+
+"Did you know them?"
+
+"One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though."
+
+"We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see
+the other man?"
+
+Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in
+the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but
+with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the
+dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would
+come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a
+question.
+
+Gracie: "Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, "It is
+Dr. Pye," whereupon an officer cried, "Order in the court!" But,
+irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the
+prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.
+
+Gracie: "That is the other man."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain."
+
+Gracie: "I am. The other man is Dr. Pye."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Still you may be mistaken?"
+
+Gracie: "I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't
+another man in the world like him."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Well, you saw them. What happened next?"
+
+Gracie: "They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they
+were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to
+talk louder. Dr. Vinsen--I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't
+his proper name, but it comes easier--he said it was madness to come
+into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute.
+He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye
+called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office--father used
+to tell of it--and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a
+corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and
+poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye
+laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying
+to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you
+squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen
+cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your
+knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began
+to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing
+and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen
+said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be
+hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again,
+'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I
+couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things
+don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr.
+Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and
+vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr.
+Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil!
+Soon afterwards I heard father's name--I don't know which one spoke
+it--and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little
+while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them
+leaving the room."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Stop a moment or two, and get your breath."
+
+Gracie: "Let me go on, please--I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he
+feeling any better?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Yes. With your permission, your worship."
+
+A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was
+given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and
+implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with
+her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were
+stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an
+affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and
+kissed him, sobbing,
+
+"Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!"
+
+No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,
+
+"Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!"
+
+In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained;
+she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her
+again and again.
+
+"You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?" asked Gracie, in a
+low tone. "If I hadn't, father might never have been found."
+
+"My darling, my darling!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "It was I who was
+wrong--you were right all through."
+
+"Never mind that now, mother," Gracie said. "Let me go on, or the
+gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!"
+
+Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police
+Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the
+officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a
+pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and
+even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, "I should like to
+do something for that little heroine," the ushers forgot to cry,
+"Silence in the court!"
+
+Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's
+tender clasp): "May I go on, now, sir?"
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving
+the room.'"
+
+Gracie: "I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I
+was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and
+through the door of the little room into the passage. They were
+downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so
+down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the
+street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch
+'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then
+I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of
+the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me
+the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool--you've spilt
+'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they
+were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because
+everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw
+what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a
+shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if
+you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel
+in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw
+the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole.
+Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a
+minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for
+it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd
+done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they
+hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the
+panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went,
+without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of
+water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid
+ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under
+Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got
+to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them
+do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that
+aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I
+didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my
+blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from
+screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At
+first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read,
+that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was
+warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir,
+though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father.
+'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he
+answered. 'It's little Gracie!'"
+
+Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with
+extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the
+lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her
+lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering
+sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators
+gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered
+by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the
+counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr.
+Pallaret addressed the court:
+
+"Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition
+to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with
+pity and horror--except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon
+be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can
+heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic
+heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been
+properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long
+sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small
+loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is
+indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has
+never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed
+by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds.
+Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your
+worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has
+established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard
+Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of
+one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the
+discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be
+taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra
+Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering
+Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the
+concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call
+Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has
+made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under
+which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court."
+
+The Magistrate: "Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the
+witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be
+taken into my room, and every attention paid to them."
+
+When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear
+of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among
+the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings
+this morning in connection with this case."
+
+Detective Lambert: "From information received shortly after the case
+was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which
+has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man
+stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death,
+who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the
+night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr.
+Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has
+been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his
+home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time,
+and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An
+untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely
+accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at
+the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which
+he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly
+opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of
+two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so
+violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility;
+that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was
+discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed
+to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not
+release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and
+endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had
+concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to
+other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure;
+that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened
+with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that
+insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into
+unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a
+state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this
+treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received,
+that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from
+the point at which Gracie Death left it.
+
+"She remained with her father all night, being afraid to leave him
+because Dr. Pye, when he passed through the cellar shortly before she
+entered it, had threatened to come back and force him to take
+something which would send him into a sleep from which he would never
+wake. In daytime very little light can penetrate the cellar, and by
+this dim light Gracie Death saw the door which led to the upper parts
+of the house. She tried it, and found it was locked from the outside.
+She knew that Dr. Pye had to attend the police court to-day to give
+evidence in this case, and she thought it best to wait till he was
+gone, and then to get back to the house in Catchpole Square through
+the tunnel, and go for assistance to release her father. He was so
+securely tied, and the ropes that bound him were so thick, that she
+could not undo them, and there was nothing in the cellar with which
+she could cut them. No food was brought to Mr. Death this morning,
+which perhaps was fortunate, as it would have led to the discovery of
+Gracie. The little girl had to judge the time at which Dr. Pye was due
+in this court, and it happens that she did so very accurately, for the
+detective who was watching Dr. Pye's house informed me that it was a
+little after eleven o'clock when he saw her running up and down Shore
+Street in search of a policeman. He went up to her and told her who he
+was, and having heard her strange story, first sent me a note which
+was delivered to me in court shortly after I had given my evidence,
+and then endeavoured to obtain admission into Dr. Pye's house. To all
+appearance it was empty, for no one answered his knocks at the door,
+and matters were at a standstill until my arrival. As we could not
+break open the front door I obtained a ladder and set it against the
+back window that looks out on Catchpole Square, the window through
+which Dr. Pye said he threw the flashlight. There was a shutter to the
+window which I forced open; Gracie had followed me up the ladder, and
+I assisted her into the room, in which I observed two new travelling
+trunks. I did not stop to examine them, but ran down to the street
+door, and admitted two constables I had sent for. I may state here
+that there were no servants in the house. Then we hastened to the
+cellar, the door of which we forced, and found Mr. Abel Death, as his
+daughter has described. When we got him into one of the better rooms,
+and took the ropes off him, he was so weak that it was impossible to
+bring him to the court, and I despatched a line to the counsel for the
+defence giving him certain information, and saying I hoped to be in
+attendance with the two new witnesses in the course of an hour or two.
+While restoratives were being given to Mr. Death I searched the house,
+and found a mass of account books and documents which had belonged to
+Mr. Samuel Boyd. I found also some articles of clothing which I
+believe will be found to have been worn by him. There was one complete
+suit of grey, and an overcoat with a fur collar. Lady Wharton will
+perhaps be able to say whether the man who visited her in Bournemouth
+wore a suit of that colour and a coat of that description."
+
+Lady Wharton (from the body of the court): "He did." Detective
+Lambert: "One of the trunks was packed and locked, and it appeared to
+me that preparations had been made for flight. The other trunk was
+only partly packed, and was not locked. This I opened and searched. At
+the top, in receptacles which must have been made expressly for them,
+were a number of works of art in bronze, ivory, and porcelain, which I
+should judge were very valuable. At the bottom of the trunk was a
+packet which I unfastened. It contained deeds and acceptances of
+various kinds, some signed by Lord Wharton and Lord Fairfax, also some
+jewels answering to the description of those which were obtained from
+Lady Wharton by fraud at Bournemouth. By the time I had made this
+cursory examination Mr. Death was sufficiently recovered to be brought
+to the court with his daughter Gracie. I left two constables in charge
+of the house, and hastened here at once." Mr. Pallaret (to the
+magistrates): "Upon the evidence presented to you I now apply for the
+discharge of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington."
+
+The Magistrate: "Has the counsel for the Crown anything to say?"
+
+Mr. Marlow: "I offer no opposition. There were circumstances of grave
+suspicion against the accused which warranted their arrest, but the
+light thrown upon the case appears to leave no doubt of their
+innocence."
+
+Mr. Pallaret: "I thank my learned friend."
+
+The Magistrate: "The accused are discharged."
+
+Florence and Aunt Rob rose from their seats in joyful agitation, the
+tears streaming from their eyes, and their arms stretched forth to
+embrace the young men, whose progress was impeded by the throng of
+sympathising spectators eager to shake hands with them. In the midst
+of the confusion the piercing voice of the French detective, Joseph
+Pitou, was heard, calling for a doctor. A sudden hush fell upon the
+Court, and all eyes were turned upon the detective, who had resumed
+his place behind Dr. Pye. Upon leaving the witness box Detective
+Lambert had stepped to the side of Dr. Vinsen, and had laid his hand
+upon the miscreant's arm. Detected, and in the power of the law, the
+wretch now stood in an attitude of abject fear.
+
+One of the spectators recalled that while Detective Lambert was giving
+his evidence he noticed that Dr. Pye gave a sudden start, and that a
+moment or two afterwards he shuddered and drooped his head. He
+ascribed this to the agitation caused by the revelations that were
+being made.
+
+"A doctor--a doctor!" screamed Joseph Pitou.
+
+The physician who had been attending Abel Death and Gracie pushed his
+way with difficulty to the French detective, and raised Dr. Pye's
+head. There was a faint smile on his lips, expressive both of triumph
+and contempt.
+
+"Well? Well?" cried Joseph Pitou to the doctor.
+
+The physician unclasped the silent man's fingers, and took from his
+hand a small bronze instrument in the shape of a ball. A pressure on
+one end of this ball released three needles, still slightly damp with
+the liquid which had flowed to the points. With a grave look the
+physician smelt the liquid, and, with his hand upraised for silence,
+placed his ear to the heart of the man. An examination of his wrist
+showed several minute punctures, caused by the needles. In this way
+the deadly poison had been injected into his veins.
+
+"Well, well?" cried Joseph Pitou again.
+
+"He is dead," the physician replied.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+Despite this tragic incident there was a scene of unparallelled
+enthusiasm when the principal actors in the day's proceedings were
+leaving the Court. The news had spread with the rapidity of lightning,
+and crowds of people flocked to the spot; it was with difficulty the
+police kept the approaches from being congested. As regards Gracie the
+enthusiasm assumed the proportions of an ovation. Cheers were raised
+for her, men and women stood on tiptoe to obtain a glimpse of her.
+Lady Wharton stooped and kissed her, and pressed a bank note into her
+hand. Gracie lifted her eyes gratefully, and gave the note to her
+mother. Aunt Rob and Florence, the happy tears still in their eyes,
+with Uncle Rob and Reginald and Dick, fluttered about her.
+
+"Will you come home with us, Gracie?" asked Aunt Rob, with a tender
+caress. "And you, Mr. and Mrs. Death?"
+
+"No, thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Death. "We must go to our little
+ones."
+
+"They haven't seen father for ever so long, ma'am," added Gracie. "Did
+they ask for me, mother?"
+
+"Yes, my darling, every day, over and over again. How glad they'll be!
+How happy and grateful I am!"
+
+"I will take you home in my carriage," said Lady Wharton, and then
+energetically to her brother, "Fairfax, what _do_ you think of her?"
+
+"Little brick," said Lord Fairfax.
+
+Lady Wharton turned to the men and women who were pressing round them.
+"Do keep off, good people, and let the child have air. You'll be the
+death of her with your kindness."
+
+"Dick!" said Gracie, putting her hand in his.
+
+"God bless you, Gracie!" he said, kissing her.
+
+"You'll come and see us, Dick."
+
+"I am coming to-night, Gracie."
+
+With her arms round his neck he carried her to the carriage.
+
+A beautiful light shone in her eyes.
+
+
+
+
+                             CHAPTER LXV.
+
+                     FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."
+
+
+"The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day,
+where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd of
+Catchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments of
+this monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A full
+report of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge the
+masters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable and
+extraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time nor
+the space for a careful consideration of all the features of this
+Mystery-murder--no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of the
+child-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with the
+son of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilest
+conspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully into
+all the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementing
+the report of the police court proceedings and incidents by such
+further particulars as have come to our knowledge.
+
+"Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before the
+magistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to make
+confession, with the view of showing that he was not the actual
+perpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon this
+rumour, confident that justice will be done.
+
+"Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were found
+the brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notorious
+criminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult to
+speak; from the little that is known of it a strange study is
+presented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments,
+it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the science
+of alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be,
+is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, to
+which mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic,
+and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy once
+acknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in the
+world dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears to
+have been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regarded
+even the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionary
+ends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to be
+deplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate his
+crimes on the scaffold.
+
+"What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeter
+and more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this we
+but echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when she
+issued from the police court that the people would have carried her
+through the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, and
+she and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton's
+carriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay our
+tribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities she
+displayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family from
+poverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating our
+wishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in our
+to-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, their
+contributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign.
+We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of five
+pounds."
+
+
+
+
+                            CHAPTER LXVI.
+
+                                 JOY.
+
+
+There was joy almost too great for utterance in two London homes that
+night. After partaking of a wonderful meal provided by Lady Wharton,
+Gracie's little brothers and sisters had the treat of sitting up late
+to look at father, who, weak as he was, would not go to bed, but
+reclined in an armchair lent by a sympathising neighbour--ah, how
+sweet and beautiful is the kindness of the poor to the poor!--and with
+Gracie's hand in his, gazed with gratitude upon the dear ones to whom
+he had been almost miraculously restored. It seemed as if the dark
+clouds which had hung for so many weary years over his life had
+vanished, and that there lay before him the sure promise of better
+times. Lady Wharton had asked him if he would not like to live in the
+country with his wife and children. There was, she said, a cottage
+large enough for them all, and a garden, and she offered to find
+employment on her estate for the poor London clerk. A vision of
+paradise--fairy scenes, with good food, and decent clothes, and
+flowers, and grass, and trees, and heaven knows what wonders. In fancy
+they heard the birds singing, and saw the white lambs in the meadows.
+But nothing was settled, it was only talked about.
+
+"And if you don't care to live in the country," said the kind-hearted
+lady before she left them, "we'll find something for you here in
+London."
+
+Then, with a silver shilling to each of the children, she and her
+brother bade them a merry good night. The treasure was now hidden in
+six little hot palms, which every now and then were opened just wide
+enough for a peep--to make sure that it had not spread its wings and
+flown away.
+
+
+                          *   *   *   *   *
+
+
+There was a prayer in the hearts of Aunt Rob's family as they sat
+round the tea table, and joyful tears that would not be repressed. For
+here was Aunt Rob singing and crying at the same time, and breaking
+down, and kissing Florence and Reginald and Dick and Uncle Rob, and
+then singing again with a happy sob in her throat, and saying in the
+midst of it all.
+
+"Oh, Dick, Dick, how shall we ever repay you!"
+
+If Gracie was the heroine in her humble home, he was the hero in
+Aunt Rob's, but both of them were inclined to rebel against this
+hero-worship, and made little of what they had done.
+
+Certain things had been discussed, and certain plans laid, by Aunt
+Rob's family, which needed to be carried out that night, and carried
+out they were. At eight o'clock they walked up the stairs in Draper's
+Mews, and being admitted were gladly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Death
+and the children. Not because of the store of food and wine and
+jellies they brought with them, but genuinely for their own sakes.
+Where they all found room to sit is one of those wonders which are
+never to be explained, but find room they did, and they talked and
+talked, and the children listened and listened, and Gracie sat by
+Dick's side on the poor bed, and wine was drunk by the elder people
+and tasted by the younger, and Abel Death's eyes brightened, and Dick,
+suddenly recollecting, pulled out a bag of brandyballs, which he gave
+to the youngsters. And then Reginald put a piece of paper into
+Gracie's hand.
+
+"What is it?" she asked, and looking at it, trembled so that she had
+to hold Dick tight. "Mother--father--look!"
+
+"It will be paid at the bank to-morrow," said Reginald. "Dick will go
+with you to get the money."
+
+"Two--hundred--pounds!" gasped Gracie.
+
+"For finding Mr. Abel Death," said Reginald. "And, oh, Gracie, how
+thankful I am to pay it!"
+
+Gracie hid her face on Dick's breast. When she raised her head there
+were no tears in her eyes, but the same beautiful light in them that
+Dick had seen once before that day.
+
+"You'll be all right now, father," she said, giving him the cheque.
+
+"God is very good to us!" murmured Mrs. Death, and then all the
+foolish women in the room began to sob.
+
+
+
+                               THE END.
+
+
+
+                      *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *
+
+_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,
+England_.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, by
+B. L. (Benjamin Leopold) Farjeon
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAMUEL BOYD OF CATCHPOLE SQUARE ***
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