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diff --git a/43198.txt b/43198.txt deleted file mode 100644 index fc4a616..0000000 --- a/43198.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,19709 +0,0 @@ -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. 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