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diff --git a/old/53044-8.txt b/old/53044-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 41b67bb..0000000 --- a/old/53044-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8199 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Devlin the Barber, by B. L. 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: Devlin the Barber - -Author: B. L. Farjeon - -Release Date: September 13, 2016 [EBook #53044] -Last Updated: July 1, 2018 - - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DEVLIN THE BARBER *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by the -Web Archive (University of California Libraries) - - - - - - - - - - - -Transcriber's Notes: - 1. Page Scan Source: - https://ia600201.us.archive.org/10/items/devlinbarber00farjrich/devlin - barber00farjrich.pdf - (University of California Libraries) - - 2 The diphthong oe is represented by [oe]. - - - - - -DEVLIN THE BARBER - - -BY -B. L. FARJEON, -AUTHOR OF "THE NINE OF HEARTS," "GREAT PORTER SQUARE," -ETC. ETC. - - - -_FOURTH EDITION_. - - - -LONDON: -WARD AND DOWNEY, -12 YORK STREET, COVENT GARDEN. -[_All rights reserved._] -1888. - - - - - - -CONTENTS. -Introduction.--In which reference is made to a strange, unfathomable - being, through whose instrumentality an awful mystery was - solved. -Chap. I. In which an account is given of the good fortune which - befell Mr. Melladew. - II. I am the recipient of terrible news. - III. A shoal of visitors--followed by another mystery. - IV. Mr. Richard Portland makes a singular proposition to me. - V. I pay a visit to Mrs. Lemon. - VI. I am haunted by three evil-looking objects in Mrs. Lemon's - room. - VII. Devlin's first introduction into the mystery. - VIII. I make the acquaintance of George Carton's guardian, Mr. - Kenneth Dowsett. - IX. Fanny Lemon relates under what circumstances she resolved - to let her second floor front. - X. Devlin the Barber takes Fanny's first floor front. - XI. Devlin performs some wonderful tricks, fascinates Mr. Lemon, - and strikes terror to the soul of Fanny Lemon. - XII. Fanny Lemon relates how her husband, after becoming better - acquainted with Devlin the Barber, seemed to be haunted - by shadows and spirits. - XIII. In which Fanny narrates how her husband had a fit, and what - the doctor thought of it. - XIV. Devlin appears suddenly, and holds a conversation with Fanny - about the murder. - XV. Fanny describes how she made up her mind what to do with - Lemon. - XVI. Mr. Lemon wakes up. - XVII. Lemon's vision in the "Twisted Cow." - XVIII. Fanny's story being concluded, I pay a visit to Mr. Lemon, - and resolve to interview Devlin the Barber. - XIX. Face to face with Devlin, I demand an explanation of him. - XX. Devlin astonishes me. - XXI. Devlin and I make a compact. - XXII. I send Devlin's desk to my wife, and smoke fragrant cigar. - XXIII. I pass a morning in Devlin's place of business. - XXIV. Mr. Kenneth Dowsett gives me the slip. - XXV. We follow in pursuit. - XXVI. Another strange and unexpected discovery. - XXVII. We track Mr. Kenneth Dowsett to Boulogne. - XXVIII. The trance and the revelation. - XXIX. The rescue. - XXX. Devlin's last scheme. - - - - - - -DEVLIN THE BARBER - - - - -INTRODUCTION. - -IN WHICH REFERENCE IS MADE TO A STRANGE, UNFATHOMABLE BEING THROUGH -WHOSE INSTRUMENTALITY AN AWFUL MYSTERY WAS SOLVED. - - -The manner in which I became intimately associated with a fearful -mystery with which not only all London but all England was ringing, -and the strange, inexplicable Being whom the course of events brought -to my knowledge, are so startling and wonderful, that I have grown to -believe that by no effort of the imagination, however wild and -bewildering the labyrinths into which it may lead a man, can the -actual realism of our everyday life be outrivalled. What I am about to -narrate is absolutely true--somewhat of an unnecessary statement, for -the reason that human fancy could never have invented it. To a person -unfamiliar with the wondrous life of a great city like London the -story may appear impossible, but there are thousands of men and women -who will immediately recognise in it features with which they became -acquainted through the columns of the newspapers. I venture to -say that the leading incident by which one morning--it was but -yesterday--the great city was thrilled and horrified can never be -entirely effaced from their memories. Dark crimes and deeds of -heroism, in which the incidents are pathetic or pitiful, draw even -strangers into sympathetic relation with each other. These events come -home to us, as it were. What happened to one whose face we have never -seen, whose hand we have never grasped, may happen to us who move in -the same familiar grooves of humanity. Our hopes and fears, our joys -and sorrows, our duties and temptations, are the same, because we are -human; and it is this common tie of kinship that will cause the story -of Devlin the Barber to be received with more than ordinary interest. -Now, for the first time is revealed, in these pages, the strange -manner in which the fearful mystery in which it was enshrouded was -unravelled. The facts are as I shall relate them, and whatever the -impression they may create, a shuddering curiosity must inevitably be -aroused as to the nature and movements of the inscrutable Being -through whose instrumentality I was made the agent in revealing what -would otherwise have remained for ever hidden from human knowledge. By -a few incredulous persons--I refer to those to whom nothing spiritual -is demonstrable--the existence of this Being may be doubted; but none -the less does he live and move among us this very day, pursuing his -mission with a purpose and to an end which it is not in the power of -mortal insight to fathom. It is not unlikely that some of my readers -may have come unconsciously in contact with him within the last few -hours. - - - - -CHAPTER I. - -IN WHICH AN ACCOUNT IS GIVEN OF THE GOOD FORTUNE WHICH BEFELL MR. -MELLADEW. - - -I am a struggling man--the phrase will be well understood, for the -class to which I belong is a large one--and I reside in a -neighbourhood which is neither very poor nor very fashionable. I have, -of course, my friends and acquaintances, and among the most intimate -of the former is a family of the name of Melladew. - -Mr. Melladew is a reader in a printing-office in which a weekly -newspaper is printed. Mrs. Melladew, with the assistance of one small -servant, manages the home. They had two daughters, twins, eighteen -years of age, named respectively Mary and Elizabeth. These girls were -very beautiful, and were so much alike that they were frequently -mistaken for one another. Mrs. Melladew has told me that when they -were very young she was compelled to make some distinguishing mark in -their dress to avoid confusion in her recognition of them, such as -differently coloured socks or pieces of ribbon. The home of the -Melladews was a happy one, and the sisters loved each other sincerely. -They were both in outdoor employment, in the establishments of a -general linendraper and a fashionable dressmaker. Mary was in the -employment of the linendraper--Limbird's, in Regent Street. It is a -firm of wide repute, and employs a great number of hands, some of whom -sleep in the house. This was the case with Mary Melladew, who went to -her work on Monday morning and did not return home until Saturday -night. Elizabeth, or Lizzie as she was always called, was employed by -Madame Michel, in Baker Street. She went to her work at half-past -eight every morning and returned home at half-past seven every night. - -The printing-office in which Mr. Melladew is engaged employs two -readers, a night reader and a day reader. Mr. Melladew is the day -reader, his hours being from nine in the morning till seven in the -evening. But on Saturdays he has a much longer spell; he is due in the -office at eight in the morning, and he remains until two or three -hours past midnight--a stretch of eighteen or nineteen hours. By that -time all the work for the Sunday edition of the weekly newspaper is -done, and the outside pages are being worked off on the steam presses. - -Now, upon the Saturday morning on which, so far as I am concerned, the -enthralling interest of my story commences, certain important events -had occurred in my career and in that of Mr. Melladew. Exactly one -month previous to that day, the firm in which I had been employed for -a great many years had given me a month's notice to leave. My -dismissal was not caused by any lapse of duty on my part; it was -simply that business had been for some time in a bad state, and that -my employers found it necessary to reduce their staff. Among those who -received notice to quit, I, unfortunately, was included. Therefore, -when I rose on Saturday morning I was in the dismal position of a man -out of work, my time having expired on the day before. This was of -serious importance to me. With Mr. Melladew the case was different. In -what unexpectedly occurred to him there was bright sunshine, to be -succeeded by black darkness. - -He had visited me on the Friday night, and I perceived at once that he -was in a state of intense and pleasurable excitement. - -"I have come to tell you some good news," he said. - -For a moment I thought that this good news might affect myself, and -might bring about a favourable turn in my affairs, but Mr. Melladew's -next words dispelled the hope. - -"I am the happiest man in London," he said. - -I reflected gravely, but not enviously, upon my own position, and -waited for Mr. Melladew to explain himself. - -"Did I ever mention to you," he asked, "that I had a brother-in-law in -Australia?" - -"Yes," I replied, "you have spoken of him lately two or three times." - -"So many years had passed," said Mr. Melladew, "since my wife heard -from him that I had almost forgotten him. He is her brother, you know, -and his name is Portland--Richard Portland. That was my wife's name -before we were married---not Richard, of course, but Portland." He -laughed, and rubbed his leg with his right hand; in his left hand was -a letter. "It was about eight months ago that we received a letter -from him, asking us to give him information about our family and -circumstances. He did not say anything about his own, so we were left -quite in the dark as to whether he was rich or poor, or a married man -or a bachelor. However, my wife answered his letter, and sent him the -pictures of our two girls, and in her letter she asked whether he was -married and had a family, and said also that she would like him to -send us their pictures. Well, we heard nothing further from him till -to-day. Another letter came from him while I was at the office. You -may read it; there is nothing private in it. It isn't from Australia; -it is written from Southampton, you see. But that is not the only -surprise in it." - -I took the letter and read it. It was, indeed, a letter to give -pleasurable surprise to the receiver. Without any announcement to Mr. -Melladew of his intention, Mr. Portland had left Australia, and was -now in Southampton. He intended to start by an early train on Saturday -morning for London, and would come straight to his brother-in-law's -house. In the letter he replied to the questions put by Mrs. Melladew. -He was a bachelor, without family ties of any kind in Australia. -Moreover, he had made his fortune, and it was the portraits of his two -nieces which were the main cause of his return to England. Their -beauty had evidently made a deep impression upon him. He spoke of them -and of Mrs. Melladew in the most affectionate terms, and said it was a -great pleasure to him to think that he was coming to a home which he -hoped he might look upon as partly his own. He sent his warmest love -to them all, and in pleasantly tender words, the meaning of which -could scarcely be mistaken, he desired a message to be given to his -"dear nieces," to the effect that "their ship had come home." I handed -the letter back to Mr. Melladew, and expressed my gratification at the -good news. - -"It is good news," he said gleefully, "the best of news. I knew you -would be pleased. I am wondering whether it is a large or a small -fortune he has made. My wife says a large one." - -"And _I_ say a large one," I remarked. - -"What makes you of that opinion?" inquired Mr. Melladew. - -"Well, in the first place there are so many large fortunes made in -Australia." - -"That is true." - -"Then, money being so much more plentiful there than here, a man gets -to think less of a little than we do. His ideas become larger, I mean. -At any time these last dozen years a hundred pounds would have been a -God-send to me, and I should have thought of it so----" - -"So would I," interposed Mr. Melladew. - -"But if you and I were in a land of gold, we should, I daresay, think -much more lightly of a hundred pounds. I wish I had emigrated when I -was first married; I had the chance, and let it slip. But it's no use -crying over spilt milk." - -"Not a bit of use," said Mr. Melladew; "life's a perpetual grind here, -and I am truly grateful for the light this letter has let in upon us. -You've given me two reasons for thinking my brother-in-law's fortune a -large one. Have you any others?" - -"Well, he speaks of your daughters' ship having come home. That looks -as if he meant to provide for them." - -"It _does_ look like it," said Mr. Melladew; and I saw that my -arguments had given him pleasure. "My wife has a reason, also, for -thinking so. She says, when Dick--that is her brother, you know--went -away he declared he would never come back to England unless he could -come back a very rich man. 'And,' says my wife, 'what Dick said, he'd -stick to.' She is sure of that. It's wonderful, isn't it? He didn't -have a sovereign to bless himself with when he left England, and -now--but it's no use speculating. We shall know everything soon. You -will understand my feelings; you have children of your own." - -I had indeed, and it made me rueful to think of them. Getting another -situation in such hard times was no easy matter. - -"It isn't for myself," resumed Mr. Melladew, "that I am overjoyed at -the better prospect before us: it is for my girls. Perhaps it means -that they will not have to go out to work any longer. They are good -girls, but they are so pretty, and have such engaging ways, that I -have often been disturbed by the circumstance of their not being so -much under my own and their mother's eyes as we would wish them to be. -It could not be helped hitherto. There's the question of dress, now. -You can manage tolerably well when they're little girls; a clever -woman like my wife can turn and twist, and cut up old things in a way -to make the little ones look quite nice; but when they become young -women, with all sorts of new ideas in their pretty heads, it is -another pair of shoes. It's natural, too, that they should want a -little pocket money to spend upon innocent pleasures and harmless -vanities. We were young ourselves once, weren't we? We found we -couldn't afford to give the girls what they wanted. They saw it, too, -so they made up their minds, without saying a word to us, to look out -for situations for themselves, and for months they haven't been a -farthing's expense to us. They even give their mother a trifle a week -towards the home. Good girls, the best of girls; I should be a -miserable man without them. Still, as I said, I have been uneasy about -them: there are so many scoundrels in the world ready with honeyed -words to turn a girl's head; and it hurts me to think that they have -their little secrets which they don't ask us to share. Now, thank God, -it will be all right. My brother-in-law will be here to-morrow, and -when he sees Lizzie and Mary he will be confirmed in his kind -intentions towards them. They can leave their situations; and if any -man wishes to pay them attentions he can do so in a straightforward -manner in the home in which they were brought up." - -He was in the blithest of spirits, and I cordially renewed my -congratulations on his good fortune. In return, he condoled with -me on the unpromising change in my own prospects. I was not very -cheerful--no man could be in such a position--but I am not in the -habit of magnifying my misfortunes to my friends, and I plucked up my -spirits. - -"You will soon get another situation," said Mr. Melladew. - -"I hope so," I replied; "I cannot afford to keep long out of one." - -"It may be in my power to give you a lift," he said kindly. "Who knows -what may turn up in the course of the next few hours?" - -I attached no signification to this not uncommon remark at the time it -was uttered, but it recurred to me afterwards, charged with sad and -terrible import. We fell to again discussing the matter of which he -was full. - -"I am almost ashamed of my good luck," said Mr. Melladew, "when I -think what has happened to you." - -"A man must accept the ups and downs of life with courage," I said, -"and must put the best face he can upon them." - -We were true friends, and I had a sincere respect for him as a worthy -fellow who had faithfully performed his duties to his family and -employers. He was passionately fond of his two daughters, and -frequently spoke of them as the greatest blessing in his life. It was, -indeed, delightful to witness the affection he bestowed upon them in -the happy home of which he was the head. They were girls of which any -man might have been proud, being not only beautiful, but bright and -witty, and full of animation. - -Mr. Melladew and I chatted together for another half-hour, and then he -wished me good-night. - -"It is fortunate," he said, "that I got away from the office an hour -earlier than usual. I shall be at home when Lizzie returns from her -work, and I want to be the first to tell her the good news. How -excited she will be! There was a friend at the house last night, who -told us our fortunes. Lizzie is very fond of having her fortune told. -'There, father,' she says, 'didn't my fortune say that I was to -receive a letter? And I've got one.' As if there was anything out of -the way in receiving a letter! Last night she was told that a great -and wonderful surprise was in store for her. Well, there is, but I am -certain the fortune-teller knew as much about its nature as the man in -the moon." - -"And Mary?" I said. "Will you tell her to-night?" - -"No," replied Mr. Melladew, "we will wait till she comes home -to-morrow. When she sees her uncle from Australia sitting in my -arm-chair, she won't know what to think of it. Happy girls, happy -girls!" - -"And happy father and mother, too," I said. - -"Yes, yes," he said, with great feeling, "and happy father and mother -too." - -It was in no envious spirit that I contrasted his good luck with my -bad, but had I suspected what the next few hours had in store for him, -I should have thanked God for my lot. We have reason to be profoundly -grateful for the ills we escape. - - - - -CHAPTER II. - -I AM THE RECIPIENT OF TERRIBLE NEWS. - - -On Saturday morning I rose early, with the strange feelings of a man -whose habits of life had been suddenly and violently wrenched out of -their usual course. I wandered up and down the stairs and into all the -rooms in the house, and to the street-door, where I stood looking -vacantly along the street, perhaps for the situation I had lost, as -though it were something I had dropped by accident and could pick up -again. Two or three neighbours passed and gave me good-morning, and -one paused and asked if I was not well. - -"Not well?" I echoed, somewhat irritably; "I am well, quite well. What -makes you think otherwise?" - -"O," he answered apologetically, "only seeing you here, that's all. -It's so unusual." - -He passed on, looking once or twice behind him. Unusual? Of course it -was unusual. Everything was unusual, everything in the world, which -seemed to be turned topsy-turvy. If the people in the street had -walked on their heads instead of their feet it would not have -surprised me very much. I should have regarded it as quite in keeping -with the fact that I was standing at my own street-door in idleness at -half-past eight o'clock on a Saturday morning; I could not remember -the time when such a thing had occurred to me. - -Standing thus in a state of semi-stupefaction, the postman came up and -gave me a letter. This recalled me to myself. - -"Now," thought I, as I turned the envelope over in my hand, "whom is -it from, and what does it contain?" - -At first I had an unreasonable hope that it was from my employers, -imploring me to come back, but a glance at the address convinced me -that it was a foolish hope. The writing was strange to me, and the -envelope was a common one, and was fastened with sealing-wax bearing -the impression of a thimble. I opened and read the letter, and -although it did not contain the offer of a situation, or hold out the -prospect of one, the contents interested me. I shall have occasion -presently to refer to this letter more particularly, and shall at -present content myself with saying that had it not arrived this story -would never have been written. While my wife and I were at breakfast -we spoke of it, and I said it was my intention to comply with the -request it contained. - -Over breakfast, also, we reviewed our position. During my years of -employment I had managed to save very little money, and upon reckoning -up what I had in my purse and what I owed, I arrived at a balance in -my favour of a little less than four pounds, which represented the -whole of my worldly wealth. A poor look-out, and I was reflecting upon -it gloomily, when my good little wife, with a tender deprecatory -smile, laid before me on the table a Post Office savings-book. - -"What is this?" I asked. - -"Look," she replied. - -The book was made out in her name, and the small deposits, extending -over a number of years, made therein showed a credit of more than -twenty pounds. - -"Yours?" I said, in wonder. "Really yours?" - -"No," said my wife. "Yours." - -My heart beat with joy; these twenty pounds were like a reprieve. I -should have time to look about, without being tortured by fears of -immediate want. I drew my wife to my side, and embraced her. Twenty -pounds, with which to commence over again the battle of life! Why it -was a fortune! How the little woman had contrived to save so much out -of her scanty housekeeping money was a mystery to me, but she had done -it by hook or by crook, as the saying is, and she now experienced a -true and sweet delight in handing it over to me. - -"Well," said I, rubbing my hands cheerfully, "things might look worse -than they do--a great deal worse. We have a little store to help us -over compulsorily idle days, and, thank God, all the children are -well." - -It was much to be grateful for, and we kissed each other in token of -our gratitude, and also as a pledge that we would not lose heart, but -would battle bravely on. - -I had just finished my second cup of tea when the street-door was -hastily opened, and my friend Mr. Melladew staggered, or rather fell, -into the room, with a face as white as a ghost. His limbs were -trembling so that he could not stand, and my wife, much alarmed, -started up and helped him into a chair. - -On this special morning we had breakfasted late, and as my wife was -assisting Mr. Melladew the clock struck ten. - -It sometimes happens that the most ordinary occurrences become of -unusual importance by reason of circumstances with which they have no -connection. Thus it was that the striking of ten o'clock, as I gazed -upon the white face of my visitor, filled me with an apprehension of -impending evil. - -"Good God!" I cried. "What has happened?" My thought was that there -had been an accident to the train by which Mr. Melladew expected his -brother-in-law from Southampton, but I was soon undeceived. It was -difficult to extract anything intelligible from Mr. Melladew in his -terrible state of agitation; but eventually I was placed in possession -of the following particulars. - -Mr. Melladew had risen early and had left his wife abed, and, as he -supposed, his daughter Lizzie. It was Mrs. Melladew's custom on -Saturday mornings to take half-an-hour extra in the way of sleep, and -Mr. Melladew would prepare his own breakfast on these occasions. He -did so on this morning, and left his house at twenty minutes to eight. -At eight o'clock punctually he was sitting at his desk in the -printing-office, reading proofs. Everything was going on as usual, the -only pleasant difference being the extraordinary lightness of Mr. -Melladew's heart as he thought of his rich brother-in-law from -Australia, perhaps at that very hour stepping into the train for -London, and of his two darling children, Lizzie and Mary. He did not, -however, allow this contemplation to interfere with the faithful and -steady discharge of his duties, and his work proceeded uninterruptedly -until half-past nine, when he sent his young assistant, a reading boy, -into the composing-room with the last proofs he had read, telling him -to bring back any more that were ready. A workman at the galley-press -had just pulled off a column of newly set-up matter, and the lad, -without waiting for it to be delivered to him, took the slip from the -printer's hand, and returned quickly to the reading-room. Mr. -Melladew, receiving the slip from his assistant, was about to commence -arranging the "copy," which the lad had also brought with him, when a -compositor rushed in, and, snatching both slip and "copy" from Mr. -Melladew's desk, hurriedly left the room. - -"What's that for?" inquired Mr. Melladew. - -"I don't know, sir," replied the lad; "but there's something 'up' in -the composing-room. The men are all standing talking in a regular -fluster." - -"What about?" - -"Ain't got a notion, sir; but they seem regular upset." - -Curious to ascertain what was going on, Mr. Melladew strolled into the -composing-room, and was struck by the sudden silence which ensued upon -his entrance. It was all the more singular because Mr. Melladew, as he -pushed the door open, heard the men speaking in excited voices, and -had half a fancy that he heard his own name uttered in tones of pity. -"Poor Melladew!" Yes, it was not a fancy. The words had been uttered -at the moment of his entrance. The silence of the compositors, their -pitying looks, confirmed it. But why should they speak of him as "poor -Melladew" at a time when life had never been so bright and fair? What -was the meaning of the pitying glances directed towards him? The -composing-room, especially on Saturdays, was a scene of lively bustle -and animation, but now the men were standing idle, stick in hand, at -the corners of their frames, or tip-toeing over their cases, and the -eyes of every man there were fixed upon Mr. Melladew. Had he been in -trouble, had his wife or one of his darling daughters been ill, his -thoughts would have immediately flown to his home, and he would have -seen in the pitying glances of the compositors a sign of some dread -misfortune; but in his happy mood he received no such impression. - -"What on earth is the matter with you all?" he said in a light tone. - -He saw the compositor who had snatched the slip of new matter from his -desk, and before he could be prevented he took it from the man's hand. - -The compositors found their voices. - -"No, Mr. Melladew!" they cried. "No; don't, don't!" - -"Nonsense!" he said, and keeping possession of the slip, he left the -composing-room for his own. - -"Go and get the copy," he said to the lad who had followed him. - -When the lad was gone he spread the slip on the desk before him. The -first words he saw formed the title of the column he was about to -read: "Horrible Murder in Victoria Park!" Beneath it were the -sub-headings, "Stabbed to the Heart!" and "A Bunch of Blood-stained -Daisies!" To a newspaper reader such events, shocking though they be, -are unhappily no novelties, and Mr. Melladew looked down the column, I -will not say mechanically, for he was a humane man, but steadily, and -stirred no doubt by pity and indignation. But before he had got -half-way down the pulsations of his heart seemed to stop, and the -words swam before his eyes. His eyes lighted on the name of the girl -who had been murdered. - -It was that of his own daughter, Lizzie Melladew! - - - - -CHAPTER III. - -A SHOAL OF VISITORS FOLLOWED BY ANOTHER MYSTERY. - - -In an agony of horror and despair he had flown from the -printing-office to my house. - -I cannot say whether he chose my house premeditatedly; it is likely -that it was done without distinct intention, but it was a proof that -he regarded my friendship as genuine, and that he knew he could depend -upon my sympathy in times of trouble. As indeed he could. My heart -bled as I gazed upon him. The words issued with difficulty from his -trembling lips; his features were convulsed; he shook like a man in an -ague. - -"O, my Lizzie!" he moaned. "My poor, poor Lizzie! O, my child, my -child!" - -I took in regularly a penny daily newspaper, and I had read it on this -morning, but there was no mention in its columns of the dreadful -occurrence. The discovery had been made too late for the first -editions of the daily journals. - -Mr. Melladew's story being told, disjointedly, and in fragments which -I had to piece together in order to arrive at an intelligible -comprehension of it, the unhappy man sat before me, moaning. - -"O, my Lizzie! O, my poor child!" - -"Was she at home?" I asked gently; I did not attempt to console him. -Of what avail were mere words at such a moment? "Was she at home when -you went from here last night?" - -"Yes, she was there," he moaned. "When she went to bed I kissed her. -For the last time! For the last, last time!" - -And then he broke down utterly. I could get nothing further from him. - -When she went to bed, he kissed her. What kind of riddle was here, in -the midst of the horrible tragedy, that the hapless girl should have -wished her parents good-night and retired to rest, and be found -ruthlessly murdered a few hours afterwards in an open park at some -distance from her house? With such joyful news as Mr. Melladew had to -communicate to his daughter, the probability was that they had kept up -later than usual, talking of the brighter future that then seemed -spread before them. It made the tragic riddle all the more difficult. - -There came a knock at the street-door, and a gentleman was admitted, -upon most urgent business he said. It turned out that he was a -newspaper reporter, who, in advance of the police, had tracked Mr. -Melladew to my house, and had come to obtain information from him for -his newspaper. I pointed out to him the condition of Mr. Melladew, -and said something to the effect that it was scarcely decent to -intrude upon him at such a time. - -The reporter, who evidently felt deeply for the bereaved father, and -whose considerate manner was such as to completely disarm me, said -aside to me, - -"Pray do not think that I am devoid of feeling; I am a father myself, -and have a daughter of the age of his poor girl. My mission is not one -of idle curiosity. A ruthless murder has been committed, and the -murderer is at large. I am not working only for my paper; I am -assisting the cause of justice. Every scrap of information we can -obtain will hasten the arrest of the wretch who has been guilty of a -crime so diabolical." - -"He can tell you nothing," I said, compelled to admit that he was -right. "Look at him as he sits there, crushed and broken down by the -blow." - -"I pity him from my heart," said the reporter. "Can you assist me in -any way? Did the poor girl live at home?" - -"She lived at home certainly, but she had employment at Madame -Michel's, in Baker Street." - -"Madame Michel's, in Baker Street. I must go there. Did she sleep -out?" - -"No; she came home every night at half-past seven." - -"Did she do so last night?" - -"Yes." - -"Did she not go to some place of amusement?" - -"Not to my knowledge. Her father told me that before she went to bed -he kissed her good-night." - -"Do you know at what hour?" - -"I do not." - -"But presumably not early." - -"Not so early as usual, I should say, because her father had some good -news to communicate to her, and they would stop up late talking of it. -Understand, much of what I say is presumptive." - -"But reasonable," said the reporter. "Did the poor girl have a -sweetheart?" - -Words which Mr. Melladew had spoken on the previous night recurred to -me here. "There are so many scoundrels in the world ready with honeyed -words to turn a girl's head; and it hurts me to think that they have -their little secrets which they don't ask us to share." Did not this -point to a secret which was hidden from her parents? I said nothing of -this to the reporter, but answered that I was not aware that the poor -girl had a sweetheart. - -"Some one must have been in love with her," said the reporter. - -"Many, perhaps," I rejoined; "but not one courted her openly, I -believe--that is, to her parents' knowledge." - -"That counts for very little. She was a beautiful girl." - -"How?" I exclaimed. "Have you seen her?" - -"I saw her this morning," he answered gravely, "within the last two -hours. She looked like an angel." - -"Was there no trace of suffering in her face?" I asked wistfully. - -"None. She was stabbed to the heart--only one, sharp, swift, devilish -blow, and death must have been instantaneous. To my unprofessional eye -it almost seems as if she must have died in sleep--in happy sleep." - -"That, at least, is merciful. Hush!" - -Mr. Melladew was rocking to and fro murmuring, "O, my Lizzie, my -darling child! O, my poor, poor Lizzie!" We had spoken in low tones, -and he evinced no consciousness of having heard what we said. During -our conversation the reporter was jotting down notes unobtrusively. -The conversation would doubtless have been continued had it not been -for the appearance of other persons, following rapidly upon each -other, policemen, and additional reporters, who had discovered that -Mr. Melladew was in my house. The last to appear was Mrs. Melladew, -who had heard rumours of the frightful crime, and who flew round to -me, not knowing that her husband was in the room. What passed from -that moment, while all these persons were buzzing around me, was so -confusing that I cannot hope to give an intelligible transcript of it. -I was, as it were, in the background, as one who had no immediate -interest in the unravelling of the terrible mystery. It was a most -agitating time to me and my wife, and when my visitors had all -departed I felt like a man who had been afflicted by a horrible -nightmare. How little did I imagine that the letter I had received by -the early morning's post, and which I had in my pocket, was vitally -connected with it, and that of all those present I was the man who was -destined to bring the mystery to light! - -Before the day was over fresh surprises were in store for me in -connection with the dreadful deed. Needless to say that the whole -neighbourhood was in a state of great excitement; so numerous were my -idle visitors that I was compelled to tell my wife to admit into the -house no person but the Melladews, or relatives of theirs. In the -afternoon, however, one visitor called who would not be denied. He -sent in his card, which bore the name of George Carton, and I said I -would see him. - -He was a young man, whose age I judged to be between twenty and -twenty-five, well dressed, and remarkably good-looking. His manners -were those of one who was accustomed to move in good society, and both -his speech and behaviour during the interview impressed me favourably. -I observed when he entered the room that he was greatly agitated. - -"I have intruded myself upon you, sir," he said, "because I felt that -I should go mad if I did not speak to some person who was a friend -of--or----" - -He could not proceed, and I finished the sentence for him. "Of the -poor girl who has been so cruelly murdered?" - -He nodded his head, and, when he could control his voice, said, "You -were an intimate friend of hers, sir?" - -"Mr. Melladew's family and mine," I replied, "have been on terms of -friendship for many years. I have known the poor girl and her sister -since their infancy." - -"I did not dare to call upon Mr. Melladew," he said, and then he -faltered again and paused. - -"Are you acquainted with him?" I asked. - -"No," he said, "but I hoped to be. If I went now and told him what I -wish to impart to you, he might look upon me as responsible for what -has occurred." He put his hand over his eyes, from which the tears -were flowing. - -"What is it you wish to impart to me?" I inquired, "and why should you -suppose you would be held responsible for so horrible a crime?" - -"I scarcely know what I am saying," he replied. "But my secret -intimacy with Lizzie"--I caught my breath at his familiar utterance of -the name--"becoming known to him now for the first time, might put -wrong ideas into his head." - -"Your secret intimacy with Lizzie?" I exclaimed. - -"We have known each other for more than four months," he said. - -"Secretly?" - -"Yes, secretly." - -"And the poor girl's parents were not aware of it?" - -"They were not. It was partly my poor Lizzie's wish, and partly my -own, I think, until I was sure that I possessed her love. She kept it -from me for a long time. 'Wait,' she used to say, smiling--pardon me, -sir; my heart seems as if it would break when I speak of her--'Wait,' -she used to say, 'I am not certain yet whether I really, really love -you.' But she did, sir, all along." - -"How do you know that?" I asked, in doubt now whether I should regard -him with favour or suspicion. - -"She confessed it to me last Tuesday night as she walked home from -Baker Street." - -"You were in the habit of meeting her, then?" - -"Yes. I beg you to believe, sir, there was nothing wrong in it. I -loved and honoured her sincerely. I wanted then to accompany her home -and ask her parents' permission to pay my addresses to her openly: but -she said no, and that she would speak to them first herself. It was -arranged so. She was to tell them to-night, and I was to call and see -her father and mother to-morrow. And now--and now--" Again he paused, -overpowered by grief. Presently he spoke again. "See here, sir." - -He detached a locket from his chain, and opening it, showed me the -sweet and beautiful face of Lizzie Melladew. - -"It was taken for me," he said, "on Wednesday morning. She obtained -permission from her employers for an hour's absence, and we went -together to get it taken. The photographer hurried the picture on for -me, I was so anxious for it. I had my picture taken for her, and put -into a locket, which I was to give her to-morrow with this ring in the -presence of her parents." He produced both the locket and the ring. -The locket was a handsome gold ornament, set with pearls; the ring was -a half-hoop, set with diamonds. The gifts were such as only a man in a -good position could afford to give. "I shall never be happy again," he -said mournfully, as he replaced the locket on his chain, after gazing -on the beautiful face with eyes of pitiful love. - -"Were you in the habit of writing to her?" I asked. - -"No, sir. No letters passed between us; there was no need to write, I -saw her so often--four or five times a week. 'When father and mother -know everything,' she said on Tuesday night, 'you shall write to me -every day.' I promised that I would." - -"I am not sorry you confided in me," I said, completely won over by -the young man's ingenuousness and undoubted sincerity; "but I can -offer you no words of comfort. You will have to make this known to -others." - -"I shall do what is right, sir. It is not in your power, nor in any -man's, to give me any comfort or consolation. The happiness of my life -is destroyed--but there is still one thing left me, and I will not -rest till it is accomplished. As God is my judge, I will not!" He did -not give me time to ask his meaning, but continued: "You can do me the -greatest favour, sir." - -"What is it?" - -"I must see Mary--her sister, sir. Can you send round to the house, -and ask her to come and see me here? She _will_ come when she gets my -message. Will you do this for me, sir?" - -"Yes," I replied, "there is no harm in it." - -I called my wife, and bade her go to Mr. Melladew's house, and -contrive to see Mary Melladew privately, and give her the young man's -message. During my wife's absence George Carton and I exchanged but -few words. He sat for the chief part of the time with his head resting -on his hand, and I was busy thinking whether the information he had -imparted to me would be likely to afford a clue to the discovery of -the murderer. My wife returned with consternation depicted on her -face. - -"Mary is not at home," she said. - -"Where has she gone?" cried George Carton, starting up. - -To my astonishment my wife replied, "They are in the greatest trouble -about her. She has not been home all the day." - -"Have they not seen anything of her?" I asked, also rising to my feet. - -"No," said my wife, "they have seen nothing whatever of her." - -"Is it possible," I exclaimed, "that she can be still at her place of -business, in ignorance of what has taken place?" - -"No," cried George Carton, in great excitement, "she is not there. I -have been to inquire. She went out last night, and never returned. -Great God! What can be the meaning of it?" - -I strove in vain to calm him. He paced the room with flashing eyes, -muttering to himself words so wild that I could not arrive at the -least understanding of them. - -"Gone! Gone!" he cried at last. "But where, where? I will not sleep, I -will not rest, till I find her! Neither will I rest till I discover -the murderer of my darling girl! And when I discover him, when he -stands before me, as there is a living God, I will kill him with my -own hands!" - -His passion was so intense that I feared he would there and then -commit some act of violence, and I made an endeavour to restrain and -calm him by throwing my arms around him; but he broke from me with a -torrent of frantic words, and rushed out of the house. - -Here was another mystery, added to the tragedy of the last few hours. -What was to be the outcome of it? From what quarter was light to come? - - - - -CHAPTER IV. - -MR. RICHARD PORTLAND MAKES A SINGULAR PROPOSITION TO ME. - - -In the evening I received another visitor, in the person of Mr. -Richard Portland, Mr. Melladew's brother-in-law. A shrewd, hard-headed -man, but much cast down at present. It was clear to me, after a little -conversation with him, that his nieces, Mary and the hapless Lizzie, -had been the great inducement of his coming home to England, and I -learnt from him that there was no doubt about the news of Mary -Melladew's mysterious disappearance. - -Mr. Portland was a thoroughly practical man, even in matters of -sentiment. It was sentiment truly that had brought him home, but his -expectations had been blasted by the news of the tragedy which had -greeted him on his arrival. He was deeply moved by the affliction -which had fallen upon his sister's family; his indignation was aroused -against the monster who had brought this fearful blow upon them; and, -in addition, he was bitterly angry at being deprived of the society of -two lovely, interesting girls, in whose hearts he had naturally hoped -to find a place. - -"My brother is fit for nothing," he said. "He is prostrate, and cannot -be roused to action. He moans and moans, and clasps his head. My -sister is no better; she goes out of one fainting fit into another." - -"What can they do?" I asked. "What would you have them do?" - -"Not sit idly down," he replied curtly. "That is not the way to -discover the murderer; and discovered he must and shall be, if it -costs me my fortune." - -"There have been murders," I remarked, "in the very heart of London, -and though years have passed, the murderers still walk the streets -undetected." - -"It is incredible," he said. - -"It is true," was my rejoinder. - -"But surely," he urged, "this will not be classed among them?" - -"I trust not." - -"Money will do much." - -"Much, but not everything. You have been many years in Australia. Have -not such crimes been committed even there without the perpetrators -being brought to justice?" - -"Yes," he replied, "but Australia and London are not to be spoken of -in the same breath. There, a man may succeed in making himself lost in -wild and vast tracts of country. He can walk for days without meeting -a living soul. Here he is surrounded by his fellow-creatures." - -"Your argument," I said, "tells against yourself. Here, in the crush -and turmoil of millions, each atom with its own individual and -overwhelming cares and anxieties, the murderer is comparatively safe. -No one notices him. Why should they, in such a seething crowd? In the -bush he is the central figure; he walks along with a hang-dog look; he -_must_ halt at certain places for food, and his guilty manner draws -attention upon him. In that lies his danger. But this is profitless -argument. For my part, I see no reason why the murderer of your -unfortunate niece should not be discovered." - -"Sensibly said. It must be a man who committed the deed." - -"That has to be proved," I remarked. - -"Surely you don't believe it was a woman?" exclaimed Mr. Portland. - -"Such things have been. In these cases of mystery it is always an -error to rush at a conclusion and to set to work upon it, to the -exclusion of all others. It is as great an error to reject a theory -because of its improbability. My dear sir, nothing is improbable in -this city of ours; I am almost tempted to say that nothing is -impossible. The columns of our newspapers teem with romance which once -upon a time would have been regarded as fables." - -Mr. Portland looked at me thoughtfully as he said, "You are doubtless -right. It needs such a mind as yours to bring the matter to light--a -mind both comprehensive and microscopic. There is some satisfaction in -speaking to you; a man hears things worth listening to. The -unpractical stuff that has been buzzing in my ears ever since I -arrived from Southampton has almost driven me crazy. Give me your -careful attention for a few moments; it may be something in your -pocket." - -He paused awhile, as though considering a point, before he resumed. - -"My coming home to the old country has been a bitter disappointment to -me. Quite apart from the sympathy I feel for the parents upon whom -such a dreadful blow has fallen, the news which greeted me on my -arrival has upset the plans I had formed. Over there"--with a jerk of -his thumb over his right shoulder, as though Australia lay immediately -in the rear of his chair--"where I made a pretty considerable fortune, -I had no family ties, and was often chewing the cud of loneliness, -lamenting that I had no one to care for, and no one to care for me. -When I received the portraits of my nieces I was captivated by them, -and I thought of them continually. Here was the very thing I was -sighing for, a human tie to banish the devil of loneliness from my -heart. The beautiful young girls belonged to me in a measure, and -would welcome and love me. I should have a home to go to where I -should be greeted with affection. I won't dwell upon what I thought, -because I hate a man who spins a thing out threadbare, but you will -understand it. I came home to enjoy the society of my two beautiful -nieces, and I find what you know of. Well, one poor girl has gone, and -cannot be recalled; but the other, Mary, so far as we know, is alive; -and yet she, too, disappeared last night, and nothing has been heard -of her. She must be found; if she is in danger she must be rescued; -she must be restored to her parents' arms, and to mine. Something -else. The murderer of my poor niece Lizzie must be discovered and -brought to justice--must be, I say! There shall be no miscarriage -here; the villain shall not escape. Now, you--excuse me if I speak -abruptly, I mean no disrespect by it; it is only my way of speaking; -and I don't wish to be rude or to pry into your private affairs, far -from it. What I mean is, money?" - -I stared at him in amazement; he had stated his meaning in one -pregnant word, but he had failed in conveying to my mind any -comprehension of it. - -"Now, I put it to you," he said, "and I hope you'll take it kindly. I -give you my word that my intentions are good. You are not a rich man, -are you?" - -"No," I answered promptly; for he was so frank and open, and was -speaking in a tone of such deep concern, that I could not take offence -at a question which at other times I should have resented. "I am not." - -"And you wouldn't turn your nose up at a thousand pounds?" - -"No, indeed I would not," I said heartily, wondering what on earth the -rich Australian was driving at. - -"Well, then," he said, touching my breast with his forefinger, "you -discover the murderer of my poor niece Lizzie, and the thousand pounds -are yours. I will give the money to you. Something else: find my niece -Mary, and restore her to her parents and to me, and I'll make it two -thousand. Come, you don't have such a chance every day." - -"That is true," I said, and I could not help liking the old fellow for -this display of heart. "But it is too remote for consideration." - -"Not at all, my dear sir, not at all," and again he touched my breast -with his forefinger; "there is nothing remote in it." - -"But why," I asked, not at all convinced by his insistence, "do you -offer _me_ such a reward, instead of going to the police?" - -"Partly because of what you said, confirmed--though I didn't think of -it at the time you mentioned it--by what I have read, about murders -being committed in the very heart of London, without the murderers -ever being discovered." - -"I was simply stating a fact." - -"Exactly; and it speaks well for the police, doesn't it? But I have -only explained part of my reason for offering you the reward. It isn't -alone what you said about undiscovered murderers, it is because you -spoke like a sensible man, who, once having his finger on a clue, -wouldn't let it slip till he'd worked it right out; and like a man -who, while he was working that clue, wouldn't let others slip that -might happen to come in his way. I've opened my mind to you, and I've -nothing more to say until you come to me to say something on your own -account. O, yes I have, though; I was forgetting that we're strangers -to one another, and that it wouldn't be reasonable for me to expect -you to take my word for a thousand pounds. Well, then, to show you -that I am in earnest, I lay on the table Bank of England notes for a -hundred pounds. Here they are, on account." - -To my astonishment he had pulled out his pocket-book and extracted ten -ten-pound notes, and there they lay on the table before me. I would -have entreated him to take them back, feeling that it would be the -falsest of false pretences to accept them, but before I could speak -again he was gone. - -I called my wife into the room, and told her what had passed. She -regarded it in the same light as myself, but I noted a little wistful -look in her eyes as she glanced at the bank-notes. - -"A thousand pounds!" she sighed, half-longingly, half-humorously. "If -we could only call it ours! Why, it would make our fortune!" - -"It would, my dear," I said, wishing in my heart of hearts that I had -a thousand pounds of my own to throw into her lap. "But this -particular thousand pounds which the good old fellow has so generously -offered will never come into our possession. So let us dismiss it from -our minds." - -"Mr. Portland," said my wife, "evidently thinks you would make a good -detective." - -"That may or may not be, though his opinion of me is altogether too -flattering. Certainly, if I had a clue to the discovery of this -terrible mystery--" - -"You would follow it up," said my wife, finishing the sentence for me. - -"Undoubtedly I would, with courage and determination. With such a -reward in view, nothing should shake me off. I would prove myself a -very bloodhound. But there," I said, half ashamed at being led away, -"I am sailing in the clouds. Let's talk no more about it. As for Mr. -Portland's hundred pounds I will put the notes carefully by, and -return them to him at the first opportunity. Poor Mrs. Melladew! How I -pity her and Melladew! I shall never forget the picture of the father -sitting in that chair, moaning, 'My poor, poor Lizzie! O, my child, my -child!' It was heartbreaking." - -My wife and I talked a great deal of it during the night, and before -we went to bed I had purchased at least seven or eight newspapers of -the newsboys who passed through the street crying out new editions and -latest news of the dreadful deed. But there was nothing really new. -Matters were in the same state as when the body of the hapless girl -was found in Victoria Park early in the morning. I recognised how -dangerous was the delay. Every additional hour increased the chances -of the murderer's escape from the hands of justice. - -I did not sleep well; my slumbers were disturbed by fantastic, -horrible dreams. It was eleven o'clock on Sunday morning before I -quitted my bed. - - - - -CHAPTER V. - -I PAY A VISIT TO MRS. LEMON. - - -I must now speak of the letter which I received on the morning of the -murder, as I stood at my street-door. It was from a Mrs. Lemon, -entreating me to call upon her at any hour most convenient to me on -this Sunday, and it was couched in terms so imploring that it would -have been cruel on my part to refuse, more especially as the writer -had some slight claim upon me. Mrs. Lemon had been for many years a -nurse and servant in my parents' house, and the children were fond of -her. She was then a spinster, and her name was Fanny Peel. We used to -make jokes upon it, and call her Fancy Peel, Orange Peel, Candied -Peel, Lemon Peel--and we little dreamt, when we called her Lemon Peel, -that we were unconsciously moved by the spirit of prophecy. For though -she was thirty years of age she succeeded in captivating a widower a -few years older than herself, Ephraim Lemon, a master barber and -hairdresser, who used to haunt the area. We youngsters were in the -habit of watching for him and playing him tricks, I am afraid, but -nothing daunted his ardour. He proposed for Fanny, and she accepted -him. Some enterprising tradesmen, when their stock is stale or -old-fashioned, put bills in their windows announcing that no -reasonable offer will be refused. Fanny Peel, having been long on the -shelf, may have thought of this when she accepted Ephraim Lemon's -hand. After her marriage she came to see me once a year to pay her -respects; but suddenly her visits became less frequent, until they -ceased altogether. For a long time past I had heard nothing of my old -nurse. - -"It is a fine morning," I said to my wife, "and I shall walk to -Fanny's house." - -In the course of an hour I presented myself at Mrs. Lemon's -street-door, and knocked. She herself opened it to me, and after an -anxious scrutiny asked me eagerly to walk in. There was trouble in her -face, tempered by an expression of relief when she fully recognised -me. She preceded me into her little parlour, and I sat down, awaiting -the communication she desired to make. Up to the point of my sitting -down the only words exchanged between us were-- - -From her: "O, sir, it _is_ you, and you _have_ come!" - -From me: "Yes, Fanny; I hope I am not later than you expected?" - -From her: "Not at all, sir. You always was that punkchel that I used -to time myself by you." - -It is a detail to state that I had not the remotest idea what she -meant by this compliment, especially as I had not made an appointment -for any particular hour. However, I did not ask her for an -explanation. I addressed her as Fanny quite naturally, and when I -followed her into the parlour an odd impression came upon me that I -had gone right back into the past, and that I was once more a little -boy in pinafores. - -The house Mrs. Lemon inhabits is situated in the north of London, in a -sadly resigned neighbourhood, which bears a shabby genteel reputation. -If I may be allowed such a form of expression I may say that it is -respectable in a demi-semi kind of way. I do not mean in respect of -its morals, which are unexceptionable, but in respect of its social -position. It is situated in a square, and is one of a cluster of -tenements so exactly alike in their frontage appearance that were it -not for the numbers on the doors a man, that way inclined, might hope -for forgiveness for walking in and taking tea with his neighbour's -wife instead of with his own. In the centre of the square is an -enclosure, bounded by iron railings, which once may have been intended -for the cultivation of flowers; at the present time it contains a few -ancient shrubs which nobody ever waters, and which are, therefore, -always shabby and dusty in dry weather. Even when it rains they do not -attempt to put on an air of liveliness; it is as though they had -settled down to the conviction that their day is over. To this -enclosed rural mockery, each tenant in the square is supposed to have -a key, but the only use the ground is put to is to shake carpets in, -and every person in or out of the neighbourhood is made free of it, by -reason of there being no lock to the gate. There are no signs of -absolute poverty in the square. Vagrant children do not play at -"shops" on the doorsteps and window-sills; organ men avoid it with a -shudder; beggars walk slowly through, and do not linger; peripatetic -vendors of food never venture there; and the donkey of the period is -unfamiliar with the region. Amusement is provided twice a week by a -lanky old gentleman in a long tail coat and a frayed black stock -reaching to his ears, whose instrument is a wheezy flute, and whose -repertoire consists of "The Last Rose of Summer" and "Away with -Melancholy," which he blows out in a fashion so unutterably mournful -and dismal as to suggest to the ingenious mind that his nightly -wanderings are part of a punishment inflicted upon him at some remote -period for the commission of a dark, mysterious crime. - -"It's very good of you to come, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, working her -right hand slowly backwards and forwards on a faded black silk dress, -which I judged had been put on in honour of my visit. "I hope you are -well, sir, and your lady, and your precious family." - -I replied that my wife and children were quite well, and that we -should be glad to see her at any time. When she heard this she burst -into tears. - -"You always _was_ the kindest-hearted gentleman!" she sobbed. "You -never _did_ object to being put upon, and you give away your toys that -free that all the other children used to take advantage of you. But -you didn't mind, sir, not you. Over and over agin have your blessed -father said when he was alive, 'That boy'll never git along in the -world, he's so soft!'" Mrs. Lemon's tears at this reminiscence flowed -more freely. "I can't believe, sir, no, I can't believe as time has -flown so quick since those happy, happy days!" - -The happy days referred to were, of course, the days of my childhood; -and my father's prophecy, which I heard now for the first time, -respecting my future, brought a contemplative smile to my lips. - -"Ah, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, with a sigh, "if we only knew when we was -well off, what a lot of troubles we shouldn't have!" - -I nodded assent to this little bit of philosophy, and looked round the -room, not dreaming that in the humble apartment I was to receive a -clue to the mystery of the murder of pretty Lizzie Melladew. - - - - -CHAPTER VI. - -I AM HAUNTED BY THREE EVIL-LOOKING OBJECTS IN MRS. LEMON'S ROOM. - - -It was plentifully furnished: stuffed chairs and couch, the latter -with a guilty air about it which seemed to say, "I am not what I -seem;" a mahogany table in the centre, upon which was an album which -had seen very much better days; ornaments on the mantelshelf, bounded -on each corner by a lustre with broken pendants; a faded green carpet -on the floor; two pictures on the walls; and on a small table near the -window a glass case with an evil-looking bird in it. The pictures were -portraits of Mr. and Mrs. Lemon in oil-colour. They appeared to have -been recently painted, and I made a remark to that effect. - -"Yes, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, in a voice which struck me as being -uneasy. "They was done only a few weeks ago." And then, as though the -words were forced from her against her will, "Do you see a likeness, -sir?" - -When she asked this question she was gazing at the portrait of -herself. - -As a work of art, the painting was a shocking exhibition; as a -likeness, it was unmistakable. - -"It is," I said, "your very image. Is the portrait of your husband--if -that is your husband hanging there----" - -She interrupted me with a shudder. "_Hanging_ there, sir?" - -"I mean on the wall. It _is_ a picture of Mr. Lemon, I presume." - -"Yes, sir, it's him." - -"Is it as faithful a portrait as your own?" - -"It's as like him, sir, as two peas. Egscept----" but she suddenly -paused. - -"Except what, Fanny?" - -"Nothing, sir, nothing," she said hurriedly. - -If, thought I, it is as like him as two peas, there must be something -extraordinarily strange and odd in Mr. Lemon. That he was not a -good-looking man could be borne with; but that, of his own free will, -he should have submitted to be painted and exhibited with such a sly, -sinister expression on his face, was decidedly not in his favour. With -his thought in my mind I turned involuntarily to the evil-looking bird -in the glass case, and, singularly enough, was struck by an absurd and -fearful resemblance between the bird's beak and the man's face. Mrs. -Lemon's eyes followed mine. - -"Have you had that bird long?" I asked. - -"Not long, sir," she replied, and her voice trembled. "About as long -as the pictures." - -"Did your husband buy it in England? It is a strange bird, and I can't -find a name for it." - -"Lemon didn't buy it, sir. It was give to him." - -I hazarded a guess. "By the artist who painted your husband's -portrait?" - -"Yes, sir." - -Turning from the stuffed bird to the fireplace, I received a shock. In -the centre of the mantelshelf was the stone figure of a creature, half -monster and half man, with a face bearing such a singular resemblance -to Mr. Lemon's and the bird's beak that I rubbed my eyes in -bewilderment, believing myself to have suddenly fallen under the -influence of a devilish enchantment. But rub my eyes as I might, I -could not rub away the strange resemblance. It was no delusion of the -senses. - -"Was that--that figure, Fanny, given to you by the artist who painted -your husband's portrait, and who presented him with that stuffed -bird?" - -"Yes, sir; he give it to Lemon." And then, in a timorous voice, she -asked, "Do you see anything odd in it, sir?" - -"It is not only that it's odd," I replied; "but, if you will excuse me -for saying so, Fanny, there is really something horrible about it." - -In a low tone Mrs. Lemon said, "That's egsactly as I feel, sir." - -"Then, why don't you get rid of it?" - -"It's more than I dare do, sir. There it is, and there it must -remain." - -"And there that evil-looking bird is, I suppose, and there that must -remain." - -"Yes, sir." - -"Ah, well," I said, thinking it time to get upon the track, "and now -let us talk about something else. You appear to be in trouble." - -"You may well say that, sir. I'm worn to skin and bone." - -"I'm sorry to hear it, Fanny. Money troubles, I suppose?" - -"O, no, sir! We can manage on what we've got, Lemon and me, though he -_has_ made ducks and drakes with the best part of his savings. Not -money troubles, sir; a good deal worser than that." - -"Your husband is well, I trust." - -"I wish I could say so, sir. No, sir, he's a long way from well, and I -didn't know who else to call in, for poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand -anybody but you." - -Why poor dear Lemon wouldn't stand anybody but me was, to say the -least of it, inexplicable; as, since I used to catch indistinct views -of his legs when he came courting Fanny in my father's house, I had -never set eyes on him. I made no remark, however, but waited quietly -for developments. - -"He took to his bed, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, "at a quarter to four -o'clock yesterday afternoon; and it's my opinion he'll never git up -from it." - -"That is bad news, Fanny. But your letter to me was written before -yesterday afternoon." - -"Yes, sir; because I felt that things mustn't be allowed to go on as -they _are_ going on without trying to alter 'em. They was bad enough -when I posted my letter to you, sir; but they're a million times worse -now. My blood's a-curdling, sir." - -"Eh?" I cried, much startled by this solemn matter-of-fact description -of the condition of her blood. - -"It's curdling inside me, sir, to think of what is going to happen to -Lemon!" - -"Come, come, Fanny," I expostulated, "you mustn't take things so -seriously; it will not mend them. What does the doctor say?" - -"Doctor, sir? Love your heart! If I was to take a doctor into Lemon's -room now, I wouldn't answer for the consequences." - -"That is all nonsense," I said; "he must be reasoned with." - -Mrs. Lemon shook her head triumphantly. "You may reason with some men, -sir, and you may delood a child; but reason with Lemon--I defy you, -sir!" - -There was really no occasion for her to do that, as I was there in the -capacity of a friend. While we were conversing I made continual -unsuccessful attempts to avoid sight of the objects which had produced -upon me so disagreeable an impression, but I could not place myself in -such a position as to escape the whole three at one and the same time. -If I turned my back upon the evil-looking bird and the portrait of Mr. -Lemon, the hideous stone figure on the mantelshelf met my gaze; if I -turned my back upon that, I not only had a side view of the bird's -beak, but a full-faced view of my friend Lemon. Familiarity with these -objects intensified my first impressions of them, and at times I could -almost fancy that their sinister features moved in mockery of me. -There was in them a fiend-like magnetism I found it impossible to -resist. - -"Does your husband eat well?" I asked. - -"Not so well as he used to do, sir." - -"Perhaps," I said, hazarding a guess, "he drinks a little too much." - -"No, sir, you're wrong there. He likes a glass--we none of us despise -it, sir--but he never exceeds." - -"Then, in the name of all that's reasonable, Fanny, what is the matter -with him?" - -Mrs. Lemon turned to her husband's portrait, turned to the stone -figure on the mantelshelf, turned to the evil-looking bird; and her -frame was shaken by a strong shuddering. - -"Is it anything to do with those objects?" I inquired, my wonder and -perplexity growing. - -"That's what I want you to find out for me, sir, if I can so fur -trespass. Don't refuse me, sir, don't! It's a deal to ask you to do, I -know, but I shall be everlastingly grateful." - -"I am ready to serve you, Fanny," I said gravely, "but at present I am -completely in the dark. For instance, this is the first time I have -seen those Mephistophelian-looking objects with which you have chosen -to decorate your room." - -"I didn't choose, sir. It was done, and I daredn't go agin it." - -"I have nothing to say to that; I must wait for your explanation. What -I was about to remark was, why that evil-beaked bird----" - -"Which I wish," she interposed, "had been burnt before it was -stuffed." - -"----Should bear so strange a resemblance," I continued, "to the -portrait of your husband, and why both should bear so strange a -resemblance to the stone monster on your mantelshelf, is so very much -beyond me, that I cannot for the life of me arrive at a satisfactory -solution of the mystery. Surely it cannot spring from a diseased -imagination, for you have the same fancy as myself." - -"It ain't fancy, sir; it's fact. And the sing'lar part of it is that -the party as brought them all three into the house is as much like -them as they are to each other." - -"We're getting on solid ground," I said. "The party who brought them -into the house--who gave you the stone monster, who painted your -husband's portrait and yours, who stuffed the bird; for, doubtless, he -was the taxidermist. An Admirable Crichton, indeed, in the way of -accomplishments! You see, Fanny, you are introducing me to new -acquaintances. You have not mentioned this party before. A man, I -presume." - -"I suppose so, sir," she said, with an awestruck look. - -"Why suppose?" I asked. "In such a case, supposition is absurd. He is, -or is not, a man." - -"Let us call him so, sir. It'll make things easier." - -"Very much easier, and they will be easier still if you will be more -explicit. I seem to be getting more and more in the dark. In looking -again upon your portrait, Fanny----" - -"Yes, sir?" - -"I can almost discern a likeness to----" - -"For the merciful Lord's sake, sir," she cried, "don't say that! If I -thought so, I should go mad. I'm scared enough already with what has -occurred and the trouble I'm in--and Lemon talking in his sleep all -the night through, and having the most horrible nightmares--and me -trembling and shaking in my bed with what I'm forced to hear--it's -unbearable, sir; it's unbearable!" - -I was becoming very excited. Unless Mrs. Lemon had lost her senses, -there was in this common house a frightful and awful mystery. And Mrs. -Lemon had sent for me to fathom it! What was I about to hear--what to -discover? - -I strove to speak in a calm voice. - -"You say your husband took to his bed yesterday, and that you fear he -will never rise from it. Then he is in bed at this moment?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Where is his bedroom?" - -"On the first floor back, sir." - -"Can he hear us talking?" - -"No, sir." - -"And you want me to see him?" - -"Before you go, sir, if you have no objections. I sha'n't know how to -thank you." - -"I will do what I can for you, Fanny. First for your own sake, and -next because there appears to be something going on in this house that -ought to be brought to light." - -"You may well say that, sir. Not only in this house, but out of this -house. The good Lord above only knows what _is_ going on! But Lemon's -done nothing wrong, sir. I won't have him thought badly of, and I -won't have him hurt. He's been weak, yes, sir, but he ain't been -guilty of a wicked, horrible crime. It ain't in his nature, sir. When -I first begun to hear things that he used to say in his sleep, and -sometimes when he was awake and lost to everything, my hair used to -stand on end. I could feel it stirring up, giving me the creeps all -over my skin, and my heart'd beat that quick that it was a mercy it -didn't jump out of my body. But after a time, frightened as I was, and -getting no satisfaction out of Lemon, who only glared at me when I -spoke to him, I thought the time might come--and I ain't sure it won't -be this blessed day--when I should have to come forward as a witness -to save him from the gallows. I am his wife, sir, and if he ain't fit -to look after hisself, it's for me to look after him, and so, sir, I -thought the best thing for me to do was to keep a dairy." - -"A dairy!" I echoed, in wonder. - -"Yes, sir, a dairy--to put down in writing everything what happened at -the very time." - -"O," I said, "you mean a diary!" - -"If that's what you call it, sir. I got an old lodger's book that -wasn't all filled up. I keep it locked in my desk, sir. Perhaps you'd -like to look at it?" - -"It may be as well, Fanny." - -"If," she said, fumbling in her pocket for a key, and placing one by -one upon the table the most extraordinary collection of oddments that -female pocket was ever called upon to hold, "if, when we come into -this house to retire and live genteel, after Lemon had sold his -business, I'd have known what was to come out of my notion to let the -second floor front to a single man, I'd have had my feet cut off -before I'd done it. But I did it for the best, to keep down the -egspenses. Here it is, sir." - - - - -CHAPTER VII. - -DEVLIN'S FIRST INTRODUCTION INTO THE MYSTERY. - - -She had found the key she had been searching for, and now she opened a -mahogany desk, from which she took a penny memorandum-book. She handed -it to me in silence, and I turned over the leaves. Most of the pages -were filled with weekly accounts of her lodgers, in which "ham and -eggs, 8_d_.;" "a rasher, 5_d_.;" "chop, 8_d_.;" "two boyled eggs, -3_d_.;" "bloater, 2_d_.;" "crewet, 4_d_.;" and other such-like items -appeared again and again. There was also, at the foot of pages, -receipts for payment, "Paid, Fanny Lemon." And this, in the midst of -the presumably tragic business upon which we were engaged, brought to -my mind an anomaly which had often occurred to me, namely, that -landladies should present their accounts to their lodgers in penny -memorandum-books, should receive the money, should sign a receipt, and -then take away the books containing their acknowledgment of payment. -In view of the grave issues impending, it is a trivial matter to -comment upon, but it was really a relief to me to dwell for a moment -or two upon it. At the end of the memorandum-book which I was looking -through were five or six leaves which had not been utilised for -lodgers' accounts, and these Mrs. Lemon had pressed into service for -her diary. She was a bad writer and an indifferent speller, and the -entries were brief, and, to me, at that point, incomprehensible. - -"I see, Fanny," I said "that your first entry is made on a Thursday, a -good many weeks ago." - -"Yes, sir." - -"I must confess I can make nothing of it. It states that Lemon rose at -eight o'clock on that morning, that he had breakfast at half-past -eight, that he ate four slices of bread and butter, two rashers of -bacon, and two eggs----" - -"Ah!" sighed Mrs. Lemon, interrupting me. "He had his appetite then, -had Lemon! He ain't got none now to speak of." - -"And," I continued, "that he went out of the house at nine o'clock -with a person whose name is unintelligible. It commences, I think, -with a D." - -"D-e-v-l-i-n," said Mrs. Lemon, her eyes almost starting out of her -head as she spelt the name, letter by letter. - -"I can make it out now. That is it, Devlin. A peculiar name, Fanny." - -"Everything about him is that, sir, and worse." - -"Had it been a common name, I daresay I should have made it out at -once. Now, Fanny, who is this Devlin?" - -"You called him a man, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, striving unsuccessfully -to keep her eyes from the portrait of her husband, from the -evil-beaked bird, and from the image of the stone monster on the -mantelshelf. - -The magnetism was not in her, it was in the objects, and as she turned -from one to the other I also turned--as though I were a piece of -machinery and she was setting me in motion. But it is likely that my -eyes would have wandered in those directions without her silent -prompting. One peculiarity of the fascination--growing more horrible -every moment--exercised by the three objects, was that I could not -look upon the one without being compelled to complete the triangle -formed by the positions in which they were placed--the wall, the -window, the mantelshelf. - -"It was Devlin, then," I said, "who painted the portraits and stuffed -the bird and gave you the stone monster?" - -"You've guessed it, sir. It was him." - -Referring to the entry in the memorandum-book, I asked, "Did this -Devlin call for your husband on the Thursday morning that they went -out together?" - -"No, sir, he lodged here." - -"Does he lodge here now?" - -"Yes, sir, I am sorry to say. If I could only see the last of him I'd -give thanks on my bended knees morning, noon, and night." - -"Why don't you get rid of him, then?" - -"I can't, sir." - -I accepted this as part of the mystery, and did not press her on the -point, but I asked why she would feel so grateful if he were gone from -the house. - -"Because," she replied, "it's all through him that Lemon is as he is." - -"Am I to see this man before I leave?" - -"It ain't for me to say, sir." - -"Is he in the house now?" - -"No, sir." - -I inwardly resolved if he came into the house before I left it, that I -would see the man of whom Mrs. Lemon so evidently stood in dread. - -"I suppose, Fanny, you will tell me something more of him." - -"That is why I asked you to come, sir. If you're to do any good in -this dreadful affair, you must know as much as I do about him." - -"Very well, Fanny." I referred again to the first entry in the diary. -"After stating that your husband went out with Devlin at nine o'clock -in the morning, you say that he returned alone at six o'clock in the -evening, and that he did not stir out of the house again on that -night." - -"Yes, sir." - -"I see that you have made a record of the time Lemon went to bed and -the time he rose next morning." - -"To which, sir, I am ready to take my gospel oath." - -"Supposing your gospel oath to be necessary." - -"It might be. God only knows!" - -I stared at her, beginning to doubt whether she was sane; but there -was nothing in her face to justify my suspicion. The expression I saw -on it was one of solemn, painful, intense earnestness. - -"Go on, sir," she said, "if you please." - -I turned again to the concluding words of the first entry, and read -them aloud: - -"Devlin did not come home all night. I locked the street-door myself, -and put up the chain. I went down at seven in the morning, when Lemon -was asleep, and the chain was up. I went to Devlin's room, the second -floor front, and Devlin was not there!" - -"That's true, sir. I can take my gospel oath of that." - -"Fanny," I said, with the little book in my hand, closed, but keeping -my forefinger between the leaves upon which the first entry was made, -"I cannot go any farther until you tell me what all this means." - -"After you've finished what I wrote, sir," was her reply, "I'll make a -clean breast of it, and tell you everything, or as much of it as I can -remember, from the time you saw me last--a good many years ago, wasn't -it, sir?--up to this very day." - -I thought it best to humour her, and I looked through the remaining -entries. They were all of the same kind. Mr. Lemon rose in the morning -at such a time; he had breakfast at such a time; he went out at such a -time, with or without Devlin; he came home at such a time, with or -without Devlin; and so on, and so on. It was a peculiar feature in -these entries that Lemon never went out or came home without Devlin's -name being mentioned. - -I handed the book back to her; she took it irresolutely, and asked, - -"Did you read what I last wrote, sir?" - -"Yes, Fanny, the usual thing." - -"Perhaps, sir, but the time I wrote it; that is what I mean." - -"No, Fanny, I don't think I noticed that." - -"It was wrote yesterday, sir, and it fixes the time that Lemon came -home on Friday, and that he didn't stir out of the house all the -night. If I can swear to anything, sir, I can swear to that. Lemon -never crossed the street-door from the minute he came in on Friday to -the minute he went out agin yesterday. If it was the last word I -spoke, I'd swear to it, and it's the truth, and nothing but the truth, -so help me God!" - -I was about to inquire why she laid such particular stress upon these -recent movements of her husband, when there flashed into her eyes an -expression of such absolute terror and horror that my first thought -was that a spectre had entered the room noiselessly, and was standing -at my back. Before I had time to turn and look, Mrs. Lemon clutched my -arm, and gasped, - -"Do you hear that? Do you hear that?" - - - - -CHAPTER VIII. - -I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF GEORGE CARTON'S GUARDIAN, MR. KENNETH -DOWSETT. - - -I heard something certainly which by this time, unhappily, was neither -new nor strange. It was the voice of a newsboy calling out the last -edition of a newspaper which, he asserted with stentorian lungs, -contained further particulars of the awful murder in Victoria Park. -Amid all the jargon he was bawling out, there were really only three -words clearly distinguishable. "Murder! Awful murder! Discoveries! -Awful discoveries!" - -"Are you alarmed, Fanny," I asked, "by what that boy is calling out?" - -"Yes," she replied in a whisper, "it is that, it is that!" - -"But you must be familiar with the cry," I observed. "There isn't a -street in London that was not ringing with it all yesterday." - -"It don't matter, it don't matter!" she gasped, in the most -inexplicable state of agitation I had ever beheld. "Lemon never -stirred out of the house. I'll take my solemn oath of it--my solemn -oath." - -I released myself from her grasp, and, running into the square, caught -up with the newsvendor and bought a paper. Before I returned to the -house I satisfied myself that the paper contained nothing new in the -shape of intelligence relating to the murder of my friend Melladew's -daughter. What the man had bawled out was merely a trick to dispose of -his wares. I had reached the doorstep of Fanny's house when my -attention was arrested by the figures of two men on the opposite side -of the road. One was a man of middle age, and was a stranger to me. In -his companion I immediately recognised George Carton. The elder man -appeared to be endeavouring to prevail upon George Carton to leave the -square, but his arguments had no effect upon Carton, who, shaking him -off, hurried across the road to speak to me. His companion followed -him. - -"Any news, sir?" cried George Carton. "Have you discovered anything?" - -"Nothing," I replied, not pausing to inquire why he should put a -question so direct to me. - -"Nothing!" he muttered. "Nothing! But it shall be brought to light--it -shall, or I will not live!" - -"Come, come, my dear boy," said the elder man. "What is the use of -going on in this frantic manner? It won't better things." - -"How am I to be sure of that?" retorted Carton. "It won't better -things to stand idly aside, and think and think about it without ever -moving a step." - -"My ward knows you, sir," said Carton's friend, "and I confess I was -endeavouring to persuade him to come home with me when you were -running after the newspaper boy. He insisted that your sudden -appearance in this square was a strange and eventful coincidence." - -"A strange and eventful coincidence!" I exclaimed, and thought, -without giving my thought expression, that there was something strange -in the circumstance of my being in Fanny Lemon's house, about to -listen to a revelation which was not unlikely to have some bearing -upon the tragic event, and in being thus unexpectedly confronted by -the young man who was to have been married to the murdered girl. - -"Yes, that is his idea," said Carton's friend; "but I am really -forgetting my manners. Allow me to introduce myself. You are -acquainted with my ward, George Carton, the dearest, most -generous-hearted, most magnanimous young fellow in the world. I have -the happiness to be his guardian. My name is Kenneth Dowsett." - -He was a smiling, fair-faced man, with blue, dreamy eyes, and his -voice and manners were most agreeable. I murmured that I was very -pleased to make his acquaintance. - -"My ward," continued Mr. Dowsett, laying his hand affectionately on -Carton's shoulder, "has also an odd idea in reference to this dreadful -affair, that something significant and pregnant will be discovered in -an odd and unaccountable fashion. Heaven knows, I don't want to -deprive him of any consolation he can derive from his imaginings. I -have too sincere a love for him; but I am a man of the world, and it -grieves me to see him indulge in fancies which can lead to no good -result. To tell you the honest truth," Mr. Dowsett whispered to me, "I -am afraid to let him out of my sight for fear he should do violence to -himself." - -"My dear guardian," said Carton, "who should know better than I how -kind and good you are to me? Who should be better able to appreciate -the tenderness and consideration I have always received at your hands? -I may be wilful, headstrong, but I am not ungrateful. Indeed, -sir"--turning to me--"I am wild with grief and despair, and my -guardian has the best of reasons for chiding me. He has only my good -at heart, and I am truly sorry to distress him; but I have my -ideas--call them fancies if you like--and I must have something to -cling to. I will not abandon my pursuit till the murderer is brought -to justice, or till I kill him with my own hands!" - -"That is how he has been going on," said Mr. Dowsett, "all day -yesterday, and the whole live-long night. He hasn't had a moment's -sleep." - -"Sleep!" cried Carton. "Who could sleep under such agony as I am -suffering?" - -"But," I said to the young man, whose intense earnestness deepened my -sympathy for him, "sleep is necessary. It isn't possible to work -without it. There are limits to human strength, and if you wish to be -of any service in the clearing up of this mystery, you must conduct -yourself with some kind of human wisdom." - -"There, my dear lad," said Mr. Dowsett, "doesn't that tally with my -advice? I tried to prevail upon him last night to take an opiate----" - -"And I wouldn't," interrupted Carton, "and I said I would never -forgive you if you administered it to me without my knowledge. Never, -never will I take another!" Mr. Dowsett looked at him reproachfully, -and the young man added, "There--I beg your pardon. I did not mean to -refer to it again." - -"If I have erred at all in my behaviour towards you, my dear lad, it -is on the side of indulgence. Still," said Mr. Dowsett, addressing me, -"that does not mean that I shall give up endeavouring to persuade -George to do what is sensible. As matters stand, who is the better -judge, he or I? Just look at the state he is in now, and tell me -whether he is fit to be trusted alone. My fear is that he will break -down entirely." - -"I agree with your guardian," I said to Carton; "he is your best -adviser." - -"I know, I know," said the young man, "and I ought to be ashamed of -myself for causing him so much uneasiness. But, after all, sir, I am -not altogether in the wrong. I saw Mr. Portland last night, and he -said that you and he had had an important interview about this -dreadful occurrence." - -"I was not aware," I observed, "that you were acquainted with any of -the elder members of your poor Lizzie's family." - -"I was not," rejoined Carton, "till last night. I introduced myself to -Mr. Portland, and told him all that had passed between poor Lizzie and -me. I did not have courage enough to go and see Mr. and Mrs. Melladew, -but Mr. Portland was very kind to me, and he said that you had -undertaken to unravel the mystery." - -I did not contradict this unauthorised statement on the part of Mr. -Portland, not wishing to get into an argument and prolong the -conversation unnecessarily; indeed, it would have been disingenuous to -say anything to the contrary, for it really seemed to me in some dim -way that I was on the threshold of a discovery in connection with the -murder. - -"Hearing this welcome news from Mr. Portland," continued Carton, "you -would not have me believe that my meeting with you now in a square I -never remember to have passed through in my life is accidental? No, -there is more in it than you or I can explain." - -"What brought you here, then?" I inquired. "Were you aware I was in -this neighbourhood?" - -"No," replied Carton, "I had not the slightest idea of it." - -"He followed the newsboy," explained Mr. Dowsett, "of whom you bought -a paper just now. These people, crying out the dreadful news, -excercise a kind of fascination over my dear George. I give you my -word, he seems to be in a waking dream as he follows in their -footsteps." - -"I am in no dream," said Carton. "I am on the alert, on the watch. I -gaze at the face of every man and woman I pass for signs of guilt. -Where is the murderer, the monster who took the life of my poor girl? -Not in hiding! It would draw suspicion upon him. He is in the streets, -and I may meet him. If I do, if I do----" - -"You see," whispered Mr. Dowsett to me, "how easy it would be for him -to get into serious trouble if he had not a friend at his elbow." - -"What good," I said, addressing Carton, "can you, in reason, expect to -accomplish by wearing yourself out in the way you are doing?" - -"It will lead me to the end," replied Carton, putting his hand to his -forehead; and there was in his tone, despite his denial, a dreaminess -which confirmed Mr. Dowsett's remark, "and then I do not care what -becomes of me!" - -Mr. Dowsett gazed at his ward solicitously, and passed his arm around -him sympathisingly. - -"Would it be a liberty, sir," said Carton, "to ask what brings you -here?" - -"I came on a visit to an old friend," I replied evasively, "whom I -have not seen for years, and who wished to consult me upon her private -affairs." - -"Pardon me for my rudeness," he said, with a pitiful, deprecatory -movement of his shoulders. "In what you have undertaken for Mr. -Portland, will you accept my assistance?" - -"If I see that it is likely to be of any service, yes, most -certainly." - -"Give me something to do," he said in a husky tone, "give me some clue -to follow. This suspense is maddening." - -"I will do what I can. And now I must leave you. My friend will wonder -what is detaining me." - -"But one word more, sir. Have you heard any news of Mary?" - -"None. So far as I know, she is still missing. If we could find her we -should, perhaps, learn the truth." - -"Should you need me," said Carton, "you know my address. I gave you my -card yesterday, but you may have mislaid it. Here is another. I live -with my guardian. It is a good thing for me that I am not left alone. -But, good God! what am I saying? I _am_ alone--alone! My Lizzie, my -poor Lizzie, is dead!" - -As I turned into the house I caught a last sight of him standing -irresolutely on the pavement, his guardian in the kindest and -tenderest manner striving to draw him away. - -Fanny was waiting for me at the door of her little parlour. There was -a wild apprehensive look in her eyes as they rested on my face. - -"What has kep you so long, sir?" she asked in a low tone of fear. - -"I came across an acquaintance accidentally," I replied. - -"A policeman, sir, or a detective?" - -"Good heavens, neither!" I exclaimed. - -A sigh of relief escaped her, but immediately afterwards she became -anxious again. - -"You was talking a long time, sir." - -"It was not my fault, Fanny." - -"Was--was Lemon's name mentioned, sir?" - -"No." - -"Was there nothing said about him?" - -"Not a word." - -This assurance plainly took a weight from her mind. She glanced at the -paper I held in my hand, and said: - -"Is there anything new in it, sir? Is the murderer caught?" - -"No," I replied; "the paper contains nothing that has not appeared in -a hundred other newspapers yesterday and to-day. Fanny, I am about to -speak to you now very seriously." - -"I'm listening, sir." - -"Has Mr. Lemon, your husband, anything to do with this dreadful deed?" - -"He had no hand in it, sir, as I hope for mercy! I'll tell you -everything I know, as I said I would; but it must be in my own way, -and you mustn't interrupt me." - -I decided that it would be useless to put any further questions to -her, and that I had best listen patiently to what she was about to -impart. I told her that I would give her my best attention, and I -solemnly impressed upon her the necessity of concealing nothing from -me. She nodded, and pouring out a glass of water, drank it off. A -silence of two or three minutes intervened before she had sufficiently -composed herself to commence, and during that silence the feeling grew -strong within me that Providence had directed my steps to her house. - -The tale she related I now set down in her own words as nearly as I -can recall them. Of all the stories I had ever heard or read, this -which she now imparted to me was the most fantastic and weird, and it -led directly to a result which to the last hour of my life I shall -think of with wonder and amazement. - - - - -CHAPTER IX. - -FANNY LEMON RELATES UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES SHE RESOLVED TO LET HER -SECOND FLOOR FRONT. - - -"I must go back sir," she commenced, "a few years, else you won't be -able to understand it properly. I'll run over them years as quick as -possible, and won't say more about e'm than is necessary, because I -know you are as anxious as I am to come to the horrible thing that has -just happened. I was a happy woman in your angel father's house, but -when Lemon come a-courting me I got that unsettled that I hardly knew -what I was about. Well, sir, as you know, we got married, and I -thought I was made for life, and that honey was to be my portion -evermore. I soon found out my mistake, though I don't suppose I had -more to complain of than other women. In the early days things went -fairly well between me and Lemon. We had our little fall-outs and our -little differences, but they was soon made up. We ain't angels, sir, -any of us, and when we're tied together we soon find it out. I daresay -it's much of a muchness on the men's side as well as on our'n. Lemon -is quick-tempered, but it's all over in a minute, and he forgits and -forgives. Leastways, that is how it used to be with him; he would fly -out at me like a flash of lightning, and be sorry for it afterwards; -and one good thing in him was that he never sulked and never brooded. -It ain't so now; he's growed that irritable that it takes more than a -woman's patience to bear with him; he won't stand contradiction, and -the littlest of things'll frighten him and make him as weak as a child -unborn. There was only a couple of nights ago. He'd been going on that -strange that it was as much as I could do to keep from screaming out -loud and alarming the neighbourhood, and right in the middle of it all -he fell asleep quite sudden. It was heavenly not to hear the sound of -his voice, but I couldn't help pitying him when I saw him laying -there, with the prespiration starting out of his forehead, and I took -a cool handkercher and wiped the damp away, and smoothed his hair back -from his eyes. - -"He woke up as sudden as he went off, and when he felt my hand on his -head he burst out crying and begged me to forgive him. Not for the way -he'd been storming at me--no, sir, he didn't beg my forgiveness for -that, but for something else he wouldn't or couldn't understandingly -explain." - -"'What do you mean by it all?' I said. 'What do you mean by it all?' - -"But though I as good as went on my bended knees to git it out of him, -it wasn't a bit of good. I might as well have spoke to a stone -stature. Lemon's had a scare, sir, a frightful awful scare, and I -don't know what to think. - -"When I married him, sir, he kep a saloon, as I daresay you remember -hearing of; shaving threepence, hair-cutting fourpence, shampooing -ditter. He had a wax lady's head in the winder as went round by -machinery, and Lemon kep it regularly wound up with her hair dressed -that elegant that it would have been a credit to Burlington Arcade. -There used to be a crowd round his winder all day long, and girls and -boys 'd come a long way to have a good look at it; and though I say -it, she was worth looking at. Her lips was like bits of red coral, and -you could see her white teeth through 'em; her skin was that pearly -and her cheeks that rosy as I never saw equalled; and as for her eyes, -sir, they was that blue that they had to be seen to be believed. She -carried her head on one side as she went round and round, looking -slantways over her right shoulder, and, taking her altogether, she was -as pritty a exhibition as you could see anywheres in London. It -brought customers to Lemon, there was no doubt of that; he was doing a -splendid trade, and we put by a matter of between four and five pounds -a week after all expenses paid. It _did_ go agin me, I own, when I -discovered that Lemon had female customers, and, what's more, a -private room set apart to do 'em up in; but when I spoke to him about -he said, with a stern eye: - -"'What do you object to? The ladies?' - -"'Not so much the ladies, Lemon,' I answered, 'as the private room.' - -"'O,' said he, 'the private room?' - -"'Yes,' said I; 'I don't think it proper.' - -"'Don't you?' said he, getting nasty. 'Well, I do, and there's a end -of it. You mind your business, Fanny, and I'll mind mine.' - -"I saw that he meant it and didn't intend to give way, and I -consequenchually held my tongue. Even when I was told that Lemon often -went out to private houses to dress ladies' hair I thought it best to -say nothing. I had my feelings, but I kep 'em to myself. I'm for peace -and harmony, sir, and I wish everybody was like me. - -"One night Lemon give me a most agreeable surprise. He came home and -said: - -"'Fanny, what would you like best in the world?' - -"There was a question to put to a woman! I thought of everything, -without giving anything a name. The truth is I was knocked over, so to -speak. - -"Lemon spoke up agin. 'What would you say, Fanny, if I told you I was -going to sell the business and retire?' - -"'No, Lemon!' I cried, for I thought, he was trying me with one of his -jokes. - -"'Yes, Fanny,' he said, 'it's what I've made up my mind to. I've been -thinking of it a long time, and now I'm going to do it.' - -"I saw that he was in real rightdown earnest, and I was that glad that -I can't egspress. - -"'Lemon,' I said, when I got cool, 'can we afford it?' - -"'Old woman,' he answered 'we've got a matter of a hundred and fifty -pound a year to live on, and if that ain't enough for the enjoyment of -life, I should like to know how much more you want?' - -"He had his light moments had Lemon before certain things happened. -People as didn't know him well thought him nothing but a grumpy, -crusty man. Well, sir, he _was_ that mostly, but with them as was -intimate he cracked his joke now and then, and it used to do my heart -good to hear him. - -"So it was settled, sir. Lemon actually sold his business, and we -retired. Five year ago almost to the very day we took this house and -become fashionable. - -"It was a bit dull at first. Lemon missed his shop, and his customers, -and his wax lady, that he'd growed to look upon almost like flesh and -blood; but he practised on my head for hours together with his -crimping irons and curling tongs, and that consoled him a little. He -used to pretend it was all real, and that I was one of his reg'lars, -and while he was gitting his things ready he'd speak about the weather -and the news in a manner quite perfessional. When he come into the -room of a morning at eleven or twelve o'clock with his white apern on -and his comb stuck in his hair, and say, 'Good morning, ma'am, a -beautiful day,'--which was the way he always begun, whether it was -raining or not--I'd take my seat instanter in the chair, and he'd -begin to operate. I humoured him, sir! it was my duty to; and though -he often screwed my hair that tight round the tongs that I felt as if -my eyes was starting out of my head, I never so much as murmured. - -"We went on in this way for nearly three years, and then Lemon took -another turn. Being retired, and living, like gentlefolk, on our -income, we got any number of circulars, and among 'em a lot about -companies, and how to make thousands of pounds without risking a -penny. I never properly understood how it came about; all I know is -that Lemon used to set poring over the papers and writing down figgers -and adding 'em up, and that at last he got speculating and dabbling -and talking wild about making millions. From that time he spoke about -nothing but Turks, and Peruvians, and Egyptians, and Bulls, and Bears, -and goodness only knows what other outlandish things; and sometimes -he'd come home smiling, and sometimes in such a dreadful temper that I -was afraid to say a word to him. One thing, after a little while, I -did understand, and that was that Lemon was losing money instead of -making it by his goings on with his Turks, and Peruvians, and -Egyptians, and his Bulls and Bears; and as I was beginning to git -frightened as to how it was all going to end, I plucked up courage to -say, - -"'Lemon, is it worth while?' - -"And all the thanks I got was, - -"'Jest you hold your tongue. Haven't I got enough to worrit me that -you must come nagging at me?' - -"He snapped me up so savage that I didn't dare to say another word, -but before a year was out he sung to another tune. He confessed to me -with tears in his eyes that he'd been chizzled out of half the money -we retired on, and it was a blessed relief to me to hear him say, - -"'I've done with it, Fanny, for ever. They don't rob me no longer with -their Bulls and their Bears.' - -"'A joyful hour it is to me. Lemon,' I cried, 'to hear them words. The -life I've led since you took up with Bulls and Bears and all the other -trash, there's no describing. But now we can be comfortable once more. -Never mind the money you've lost; I'll make it up somehow.' - -"It was then I got the idea of letting the second floor front. As it's -turned out, sir, it was the very worst idea that ever got into my -head, and what it's going to lead to the Lord above only knows." - - - - -CHAPTER X. - -DEVLIN THE BARBER TAKES FANNY'S FIRST FLOOR FRONT. - - -"Our first lodger, sir, was a clerk in the City, and he played the -bassoon that excruciating that our lives become a torment. The -neighbours all complained, and threatened to bring me and Lemon and -the young man and his bassoon before the magerstrates. I told the -clerk that he'd have to give up the second floor front or the bassoon, -and that he might take his choice. He took his choice, and went away -owing me one pound fourteen, and I haven't seen the colour of his -money from that day to this. - -"Our second lodger was a printer, who worked all night and slep all -day. I could have stood him if it hadn't turned out that he'd run away -from his wife, who found out where he was living, and give us no -peace. She was a dreadful creature, and I never saw her sober. She -smelt of gin that strong that you knew a mile off when she was coming. -'That's why I left her, Mrs. Lemon,' the poor man said to me; 'she's -been the ruin of me. Three homes has she sold up, and she's that -disgraced me that it makes me wild to hear the sound of her voice. The -law won't help me, and what am I to do?' I made him a cup of tea, and -said I was very sorry for him, but that she wasn't _my_ wife, and that -I'd take it kind of him if he'd find some other lodgings. All he said -was, 'Very well, Mrs. Lemon, I can't blame you; but don't be surprised -if you read in the papers one day that I am brought up for being the -death of her, or that I've made a hole in the water. If she goes on -much longer, one of them things is sure to happen.' He went away -sorrowful, and paid me honourable to the last farthing. - -"It wasn't encouraging, sir, but I didn't lose heart. 'The third -time's lucky,' I said to myself, as I put the bill in the winder agin, -little dreaming what was to come of it. It remained there nigh on a -fortnight, when a knock come at the street-door. - -"I do all the work in the house myself. A body may be genteel without -keeping a parcel of servants to eat you out of house and home, and -sauce you in the bargain. A knock come at the street-door, as I said. -If I'd known what I know now, the party as knocked might have knocked -till he was blue in the face, or dropped down in a fit before he'd got -me to answer him. But I had no suspicions, and I went and opened the -door, and there I saw a tall, dark man, with a black moustache, curled -up at the ends. - -"'You've got a bill in the winder,' said he, 'of a room to let.' - -"'Yes, sir,' I answered, hardly giving myself time to look at him, I -was that glad of the chance of letting the room; 'would you like to -see it?' - -"'I should,' said he. - -"And in he walked, and up the stairs, after me, to the second floor -front. It didn't strike me at the time, but it did often afterwards -when I listened for 'em in vain, that I didn't hear his footsteps as -he follered me up-stairs. Never, from the moment he entered this -house, have I heard the least sound from his feet, and yet he wears -what looks like boots. He's never asked me to clean 'em, and I'd -rather be torn to pieces with red hot pinchers than do it now. - -"'It's a cheerful room, sir,' said I to him. 'Looks out on the -square.' - -"'Charming,' he said, 'the room, the square, you, everything.' - -"'That's a funny way of talking,' I thought, and I said out loud, 'Do -you think it will suit, sir?' - -"'Do I think it will suit?' he said. 'I am sure it will suit. I take -it from this minute. What's the rent?' - -"'With attendance, sir?' I asked. - -"'With or without attendance,' he answered; 'it matters not.' - -"Not 'It don't matter,' as ordinary people say, but 'It matters not,' -for all the world like one of them foreign fellers we see on the -stage. I told him the rent, reckoning attendance, and he said: - -"'Good. The bargain is made. I am yours, and you are mine.' - -"And then he laughed in a way that almost made my hair stand on end. -It wasn't the laugh of a human creature; there was something unearthly -about it. As a rule, a body's pleased when another body laughs, but -this laugh made me shiver all over; you know the sensation, sir, like -cold water running down your back. Then, and a good many times since -when he's been speaking or laughing, I felt myself turn faint with -sech a swimming sensation that I had to ketch hold of something to -keep myself from sinking to the ground. - -"'I beg your pardon, sir,' I said, when I come to, 'but if you've no -objections I'd like a reference.' - -"'Of course you would,' he said, laughing again, 'and here it is.' - -"With that he gives me a sovering, and orders me to light the fire. -There's that about him as makes it unpossible not to do as he orders -you to, so on my knees I went there and then, and lit the fire. - -"'Good,' he said. 'I couldn't have done it better myself. Mrs. -Lemon--' and you might have knocked me down with a feather when I -heard him speak my name. How did he get to know it? _I_ never told -him.--Mrs. Lemon,' said he, 'I see in your face that you'd like to ask -me a question or two.' - -"'I would, sir,' I said, shaking and trembling all over. 'If I may -make so bold, sir, are you a married man?' - -"He put his hand on his heart, and, grinning all over his face, -answered, 'Mrs. Lemon, I am, and have ever been, single.' - -"'Might I be so bold as to ask your name, sir?' I said. - -"'Devlin,' said he. - -"'Dev--what?' I garsped. - -"'Lin,' said he. 'Devlin. I'll spell it for you. D-e-v-l-i-n. Have you -got it well in your mind?' - -"'I have, sir,' I said, very faint. - -"'Good,' said he, pointing to the door. 'Go.' - -"I had to go, sir, and I went, and that is how Mr. Devlin become our -lodger." - - - - -CHAPTER XI. - -DEVLIN PERFORMS SOME WONDERFUL TRICKS, FASCINATES MR. LEMON, AND -STRIKES TERROR TO THE SOUL OF FANNY LEMON. - - -"That very night Mr. Devlin come down to this room, without 'with your -leave or by your leave,' where Lemon and me was setting, having our -regular game of cribbage for a ha'penny a game, and droring a chair up -to the table, he begun to talk as though he'd known us all his life. -And he can talk, sir, by the hour, and it never seens to tire him, -whatever it does with other people. Lemon was took with him, and -couldn't keep his eyes off him. No more could I, sir. No more could -you if he was here. You might try your hardest, but it wouldn't be a -bit of good. There's something in him as forces you to look at -him--just as there's something in that bird, and the stone figger on -the mantelshelf, and Lemon's portrait as forces you to look at _them_. -I've found out the reason of that. When Devlin ain't here _he leaves -his sperrit behind him_--that's how it is. I was never frightened of -the dark before he come into the house, but now the very thought of -going into a room of a night without a candle makes me shiver. And -many and many's the time as I've been going up-stairs that I've turned -that faint there's no describing. He's been behind me, sir, coming up -after me, step by step. I can't see him, I can't hear him, but I feel -him; and yet there ain't a soul in sight but me. At them times I'm -frightened to look at the wall for fear of seeing his shadder. - -"Well, sir, on the night that he come into this parlour he goes on -talking and talking, and then proposes a hand at cribbage, which Lemon -was only too glad to say yes to. - -"'Mrs. Lemon must play,' said Devlin; 'we'll have a three-handed -game.' - -"I shouldn't have minded being left out, especially as our -cribbage-board only pegs for two, but his word was lore. So we begun -to play, and Devlin marks his score with a red pencil. - -"The things he did while we played made my flesh creep. He threw out -his card for crib without looking at it, and told us how much was in -crib while the cards was laying backs up on the table; and when Lemon -and me, both of us slow counters, began to reckon what we had in our -hands, Mr. Devlin, like a flash of lightning, cried out how many we -was to take. We played five games, and he won 'em all. Then he said -he'd show us some tricks. Sir, the like of them tricks was never seen -before or since. I've seen conjurers in my time, but not one who could -hold a candle to Mr. Devlin. He made the cards fly all over the room, -and while he held the pack in his hand and you was looking at 'em, -they'd disappear before your very eyes. - -"'Where would you like 'em to be?' he asked. 'Underneath you, on your -chair? Git up; you're sitting on 'em. In your workbox? Open it and -behold 'em.' - -"And there they was, sir, sure enough, underneath me, though I'd never -stirred from my seat, or in my workbox, which was at the other end of -the room. It wasn't conjuring, sir, it was something I can't put a -name to, and it wasn't natural. I could hardly move for fright, and as -I looked at Mr. Devlin, he seemed to grow taller and thinner, and his -black eyes become blacker, and his moustaches curled up to his nose -till they as good as met. But Lemon didn't feel as I felt; he was that -delighted that he kep on crying-- - -"'Wonderful! Beautiful! Do it agin, Mr. Devlin, do it agin. Show us -another.' - -"I don't know when I've seen him so excited; that Devlin had bewitched -him. - -"'We're brothers you and me,' said Devlin to him. 'I am yours, and you -are mine, and we'll never part.' - -"The very words, sir, he'd used to me. - -"'Hooray!' cried Lemon, 'we're brothers, you and me, and we'll never, -never part.' - -"'I once kep a barber's shop myself,' said Devlin. - -"'What!' cried Lemon, 'are you one of us?' - -"'I am,' said Devlin, 'and I've worked for the best in the trade--for -Truefitt and Shipwright, and all the rest of 'em. I've been abroad -studying the new styles. I'll show you something as 'll make you open -your eyes, something splendid.' - -"And before I knew where I was, sir, Devlin, in his shirt-sleeves, had -whipped a large towel round my neck, and had my hair all down, and was -beginning to dress it. Where he got the towel from, and the combs, and -the curling-tongs, and the fire, goodness only knows. I didn't see him -take them from nowhere, but there they was on the table, and there was -Devlin, with his hands in my hair, frizzling it up and corkscrewing -it, and twisting and twirling it, and me setting in the chair for all -the world as if I'd been turned into stone. But though I didn't have -the power to move, I could think about things, and what come into my -head was that the man as had taken the second floor front must be some -unearthly creature, sprung from I won't mention where. - -"'Do you really believe so?' whispered Devlin in my ear. - -"'Believe what?' I asked, though my throat was that hot and dry that I -wondered how he could make out what I said. - -"'That I am an unearthly creature,' he said softly, 'sprung from a -place which shouldn't be mentioned to ears perlite?' - -"If I was petrified before, sir, you may guess how I felt when I found -out that he knew what I was thinking of. - -"'You shouldn't be, you shouldn't be,' he whispered agin. - -"'Shouldn't be what?' I managed to git out, though the words almost -stuck to the roof of my mouth. - -"'Sorry you ever took me as a lodger,' he said with a grin. 'Fye, fye! -It isn't grateful of you after sech a good reference as I give you. -Something 'll happen to you if you don't mind.' - -"Well, sir, it was true I'd thought it, but I'll take my solemn oath I -never spoke it. It was jest as though that Devlin had my brains spread -open before him, and could see every thought as was passing through -'em. I was so overcome that I as good as swooned away, and I believe I -should have gone off in a dead faint if he hadn't put something strong -to my nose as made me almost sneeze my head off. And while I was -sneezing, there was Devlin and Lemon laughing fit to burst -theirselves. All the time he was dressing my hair that sort of thing -was going on; there wasn't a thought that come into my head that he -didn't tell me of the minute it was there, till he got me into that -state that I hardly knew whether I was asleep or awake. At last, sir, -he finished me up, and stepping back a little, he waved his hand and -said to Lemon, - -"'There! what do you think of that?' meaning my hair. - -"'Wonderful! Beautiful!' cried Lemon, clapping his hands and jumping -up and down in his chair, he was that egscited. 'I never saw nothing -like it in all my whole born days. It's a new style--quite a new -style, and so taking! The ladies 'll go wild over it. Where did you -git it from?' - -"'From a place,' said Devlin, grinning right in my face, 'as shall be -nameless.' - -"'But you'll tell me some day, won't you?' cried Lemon. 'Because there -might be other styles there as good as that, and we could make our -fortunes out of 'em.' - -"'I'll take you there one day,' said Devlin, with an unearthly laugh, -'and you shall see for yourself.' - -"'Do, do!' screamed Lemon. 'I'd give anything in the world to go there -with you!' - -"'Good Lord save him!' I thought, looking at Lemon whose eyes was -almost starting out of his head. 'He's going mad, he's going mad!' - -"'As to making our fortunes,' Devlin went on, 'why not? It shall be -so.' - -"'It shall, it shall!' cried Lemon. - -"'We'll make hunderds, thousands,' said Devlin. - -"'We will, we will!' cried Lemon. 'Fanny shall ride in her own -kerridge.' - -"'Fanny shall,' said Devlin. - -"'The Lord forbid,' I thought, 'that I should ever ride in a kerridge -bought at sech a price!' - -"I thought more free now that Devlin's hands was not in my hair; he -didn't seem to be able to read what I was thinking of so long as we -was apart. - -"'I bind myself to you,' said Devlin to my poor dear Lemon, 'and you -bind yourself to me. The bargain's made. Your hand upon it.' - -"Lemon gave him his hand, and whether it was fancy or not, it seemed -to me that Devlin grew and grew till he almost touched the ceiling; -and that, while he was bending over Lemon and looking down on him, -like one of them vampires you've read of, sir. Lemon kep growing -smaller and smaller till he was no better than a bag of bones. - -"'We go out to-morrer morning,' said Devlin, 'you and me together, to -look for a shop. Is it agreed?' - -"'It is,' answered Lemon, 'it is.' - -"'We will set London on fire,' said Devlin. - -"'We will, we will,' said Lemon; 'and we'll have shops all over it.' - -"'You're a man of sperrit,' said Devlin. 'I kiss your hand.' - -"He said that to me; but I clapped my hands behind my back. - -"'If you refuse,' said Devlin, smiling at me all the while, 'I must -show Lemon another style.' - -"And he made as though he was about to dress my hair agin. - -"'No, no!' I screamed; 'anything but that, anything but that!" - -"I give him my hand, and he kissed it. His mouth was like burning hot -coals, and I wondered I wasn't scarred. - -"'Don't forgit,' said Lemon, 'to-morrow morning.' - -"'I'll not forgit,' said Devlin. 'Till then, adoo.' - -"The next minute he was gone. - -"No sooner did he close the door behind him than I felt as if tons -weight had been lifted off me. I started up, and put my hands to my -hair, intending to pull it down. - -"'What are you doing?' cried Lemon, starting up too, and seizing hold -of me. 'Don't touch it--don't touch it! I must study the style. I -never saw sech a thing in all my life. It's more than wonderful, its -stoopendous. You look like another woman. Jest take a sight of yerself -in the glass.' - -"I did take a sight of myself in the glass, and if you'll believe me, -sir, it seemed as if my head was covered with millions of little -serpents, curling and twisting all sorts of ways at once; and, as I -looked at 'em moving, sir--which might have been or might not have -been, but so it was to me--I saw millions of eyes shining and glaring -at me. - -"'O, Lemon, Lemon!' I cried, bursting out into tears; 'what _have_ you -done, what _have_ you done?' - -"'Done?' said Lemon, rubbing his hands; he'd let mine go. 'Why, gone -into partnership with the finest hairdresser as ever was seen. Our -fortune's made, Fanny, our fortune's made!' - -"I tried to reason with him, but I might as well have spoke to stone. -He was that worked up that he wouldn't listen to a word I said. All -the satisfaction I could git out of him was-- - -"'A good night's work, Fanny; a good night's work!' - -"If he said it once he said it fifty times. But I knew it was the -worst night's work Lemon had ever done, and that it'd come to bad. And -it has, sir." - - - - -CHAPTER XII. - -FANNY LEMON RELATES HOW HER HUSBAND, AFTER BECOMING BETTER ACQUAINTED -WITH DEVLIN THE BARBER, SEEMED TO BE HAUNTED BY SHADOWS AND SPIRITS. - - -"I had my way about my hair before I went to bed. I waited till Lemon -was asleep, and then I brushed all the serpents out, and did it up in -a plain knot behind. I felt then like a Christian, and I said my -prayers before I stepped in between the sheets. I didn't sleep much; -Lemon was that restless he torsed and torsed the whole night long, and -his eyes was quite bloodshot when he got up. While he was dressing I -heard Devlin call out: - -"'Lemon, I'm coming down to have breakfast with you.' - -"'Do,' cried Lemon. 'You're heartily welcome.' - -"I was down-stairs at the time--I always git up before Lemon, to make -the place straight and cook the breakfast--and I heard what passed. -Lemon, half-dressed, come running down to me, and told me to be sure -to git something nice for breakfast, and not to cut the rashers too -thin. - -"'Go to the fish-shop,' he said, 'and git a haddick. We must treat him -well, Fanny, or he might cry off the bargain he made with me last -night.' - -"I thought to myself I knew how I'd treat him if I had my way, but it -wouldn't have done jest then for me to go agin Lemon. There was times -when he said a thing that it had to be done, and that was one of 'em. -So I goes to the fishmonger's and gits a haddick, and I cooks three -large rashers and six eggs--three fried and three biled--and then Lemon -and Devlin they come in together as thick as thieves. Devlin had been -telling Lemon something as had made him laugh till his face was -purple. - -"'You never heard sech a man,' said Lemon to me. 'He's one in a -thousand.' - -"'He's one in millions,' I thought, and I kep my head down for fear -Devlin should suspect what I was thinking of; 'and there's only one as -ever _I_ heard of.' - -"Devlin give me good morning and shook hands with me; I didn't dare to -refuse him. If he'd offered to kiss me, Lemon wouldn't have objected, -I believe, though there was a time when he was that jealous of me that -a man hardly dared to look at me. But those happy days was gone for -ever. - -"I didn't have much appetite for breakfast, and no more had Lemon, but -Devlin made up for the pair of us. There was the haddick, and there -was the three rashers, and there was the six eggs. Devlin pretty well -cleared the lot. It was Lemon, I _must_ say, who pushed him on to it, -though it didn't seem to me as he wanted much persuading. He had the -appetite of a shark. It didn't give me no pleasure to hear him praise -my cooking and to hear him say to Lemon that he'd got a treasure of a -wife. - -"'I have,' said Lemon; 'Fanny's a good sort.' - -"When breakfast was over and everything cleared away Lemon asked -Devlin if he was ready, and Devlin said he was, and they went out arm -in arm jest as if they was brothers. - -"They come home late, and Lemon was more excited than ever. - -"'It's all settled, Fanny,' he said, 'I've taken another shop, and -Devlin and me's gone into partnership. We're going to work together, -and we'll astonish your weak nerves.' - -"As if they hadn't been astonished enough already. - -"I asked Lemon where the shop was that he'd taken, but he wouldn't -tell me. - -"'It's a secret,' he said, 'between Devlin and me. What an -egstrordinary man he is, Fanny! What a glorious, glorious fellow! What -a fortunate thing that he saw the bill in our winder of a room to let, -and that he didn't go somewheres else! It's a providence, Fanny, -that's what it is.' - -"I wasn't to be put down so easy, and I tried my hardest to git out of -Lemon where the shop was, but he wouldn't let on. - -"'I've promised Devlin,' he said, 'not to say a word about it to a -living soul. Perhaps we sha'n't keep it open long; perhaps we shall -shut it up after a month or two and take another; perhaps we shall do -a lot of trade at private houses. It's all as Devlin likes. I've give -him the lead. There never was sech a man.' - -"That was all I could git out of him. Devlin had him tight; 'twas -nothing but Devlin this, and Devlin that, and Devlin t'other. Devlin -was as close as he was; I couldn't git nothing out of him. - -"'I love wimmin,' he said, 'but they must be kep in their place. Eh, -Lemon?' - -"That was a nice thing for a wife to hear, wasn't it? - -"'Yes,' said Lemon: 'you mind your business, Fanny, and we'll mind -our'n.' - -"They went out the next morning together, and kep out late agin; and -so it went on for a matter of four or five weeks. Then there come a -change. From being in love with Devlin, Lemon begun to be frightened -of him. I saw it in his face every morning when they went away. -Instead of Lemon's taking Devlin's arm as he did at first, it was -Devlin who used to take Lemon's arm, jest above the elber jint, as -much as to say: - -"'I've got you, and I'm not going to let you escape me.' - -"And instead of Lemon being brisk and lively and egscited of a -morning, as though he was going for an excursion in a pleasure van, he -got grumpy and dull, as though he was going to the lock-up to answer -for some dreadful thing he'd done. I spoke to him about it, but if he -was close before, he was a thousand times closer now. - -"'Don't ask me nothing, Fanny,' he'd say; 'don't put questions to me -about _him_. I daren't say a word, I daren't, I daren't!' - -"That didn't stop me; he was my husband, and if strange things was -being done, who had a better right than me to know all about 'em? But -it was all no use; I couldn't git nothing out of him. - -"'If you don't shut up,' he said, quite savage like, 'I'll set Devlin -on to you, and you'll have cause to remember it to the last day of -your life!' - -"Jest as if I haven't got cause to remember it! If I lived a thousand -years I couldn't forgit what's happened. - -"If I could have got rid of my lodger I shouldn't have thought twice -about it; out he'd have gone; but he paid me reg'lar, did Devlin, and -always in advance, so that I had no egscuse for giving him notice. And -even if I had, I ain't at all sure that I should have had the courage -to do it. - -"It begun to trouble me more than I can say, that I never heard him -come in or go out, and that I never caught the sound of his footsteps -on the stairs or in the passage, and that, when he might have been in -the Canary Islands for all I knew, I'd turn my head and see him -standing at the back of me, without my having the least idea how he -got into the room. - -"'Here I am, you see, Mrs. Lemon,' he'd say; 'back agin, like a bad -penny. You're glad to see me, I'm sure. Say you're glad.' - -"And I had to, whether I liked it or not. Then he'd grin and wag his -head at me, and sometimes say if he knew where there was another woman -like me he'd stick up to her. 'Lord have mercy,' I used to think, 'on -the woman who'd give you a second look unless she was obliged to!' - -"I grew to be that shaky and trembly that my life was a perfect -misery; and so was Lemon's. But I used to speak about it, which was a -little relief, while poor Lemon would never so much as open his lips. -I pitied him a deal more than I did myself. I did say to him once: - -"'Lemon, let's call a broker in when Devlin's not here, and sell the -furniture, and run away.' - -"'You talk like a fool,' said Lemon. 'If we was to hide ourselves in -the bowels of the earth he'd ferret us out.' - -"Then Lemon said one night that Devlin was going to paint our -portraits. - -"'He sha'n't paint mine,' I cried, 'not if he orfered to frame it in -dymens!' - -"The words was no sooner out of my lips than I turned almost to a -jelly at hearing Devlin's voice at the back of me, saying, - -"'Nonsense, nonsense, Mrs. Lemon! Surely it ain't me you're speaking -of? Don't they paint all the Court beauties, and ain't you as good as -the best of them? Your face is like milk and roses, and I'm the artist -that's going to do justice to it. You can't refuse me; you won't have -the heart to refuse me.' - -"Which I hadn't, with him so close to me. He seemed to take the -backbone out of me; I used to feel quite limp when he took me up like -that. He _did_ paint my picture, and there it is, stuck on the wall; -and though it's come over me a hunderd times to drag it down and burn -it, it's more than I dare do for fear of something dreadful happening. - -"I can't describe what I went through while that picture was being -painted. There was I, setting like a stature in the position that -Devlin placed me; and there was Lemon, leaning for'ard, with his hands -clarsping the arms of his chair, and his eyes glaring like a ghost's; -and there was Devlin, waving his brush and painting me, making all -sorts of strange remarks, and singing all sorts of songs in all sorts -of languages. He could do that, sir; I don't believe there's a -language in the world that he can't speak, and I don't believe there's -anything in the world, or out of it, for that matter, that he doesn't -know. "_Now, where did he get it all from?_ - -"I used to wonder about his age. It was a regular puzzler. Sometimes -he looked quite young, and sometimes he looked as old as Methusalem. I -plucked up courage once to ask him. - -"'What do you say to twenty?' he answered. 'Or if that won't do, what -do you say to eighty, or a couple of hunderd?' - -"When my portrait was finished he pretended to go into egstacies over -it, and said that it really ought to be egshibited. - -"'Mind you keep it as a airloom,' he said. 'You've no notion what it's -worth.' - -"Then he took Lemon's picture, and it was a comfort to me that he -painted my husband up-stairs. Every night for a fortnight Lemon went -up to Devlin's room, and set there for two or three hours, and then -he'd slide into this room looking as if he'd jest come out of his -corfin. It give me such a shock when I first saw the picture that I -threw my apern over my head. - -"'Ah,' said Devlin with a grin, pulling my apern away, 'I thought -you'd be overcome when you set eyes on it. It's a rare piece of work, -ain't it? Why, it almost speaks!' - -"It was as like Lemon as like could be--I couldn't deny that; but -there was the sly, wicked look which you've noticed in that there -stuffed bird and in the stone image on the mantelshelf. Devlin made us -a present of them things after he'd painted the portraits, and told me -to treasure 'em for his sake, and that whenever I looked at 'em I was -to think of him. He said they was worth ever so much money, but that I -was never, never to part with 'em. - -"'If you do,' he said, laughing in my face, 'I'll haunt you day and -night.' - -"So things went on, gitting worser and worser every day, and Lemon got -that thin that you could almost blow him away. And now, sir, I'm -coming to the most dreadful part of the whole affair, something that -has frightened me more than all the rest put together. What I'm going -to speak of now is that awful murder in Victoria Park. Don't think I'm -making it up out of my head. I ain't clever enough or wicked enough. -If I was I should deserve a judgment to fall on me. - -"I've told you of Lemon speaking in his sleep--never did he go to bed -without saying things in the night that'd send my heart into my mouth. -He seemed as if he was haunted by shadders and spirits, and as if -there was always something weighing on his soul that he daren't let -out when he was awake. When I found it was no good arguing with him I -give it up, and I bore with his writhes and groans, without telling -him in the morning of the dreadful night I'd passed. But the day -before yesterday, sir, things come to a head. - -"He went out early with Devlin as usual, and they both come home -together a deal later than they was in the habit of doing. I fixed the -time in my dairy, sir; it was half-past eight o'clock. Before that I'd -wrote my letter to you and posted it--the letter you got yesterday -morning. Little did I dream of what was going to happen after I sent -it off. - -"I noticed that Lemon was more trembly than ever, and there was that -in his eyes which made my heart bleed for him. It wasn't a wandering -look, because he was afraid to look behind him; it was as if he was -trying to shut out something horrible. But I didn't say a word to him -while Devlin was with us. He didn't remain long. - -"'I'm going to my room,' he said; 'I've got a lot of writing to do. -Bring me up a pot of tea before you go to bed. Lemon and me's been -spending a pleasant hour at the Twisted Cow.' - -"'Lemon looks as if he'd been spending a pleasant hour,' I thought, as -I looked at his white face. - -"Then Devlin went to his room on the second floor, and I breathed more -free. - -"The Twisted Cow, sir, is a public which Devlin is fond of. You may be -sure he'd pick out a house with a outlandish name. - -"'O, Lemon, Lemon,' I said, 'you look like a ghost!' - -"'Hush!' he said, with his hand to his ear; he was afraid Devlin might -be listening. 'Don't speak to me, Fanny; I want to be quiet, very -quiet. How horrible, how horrible!' - -"'What's horrible. Lemon?' I asked, putting my arms round his neck. - -"He pushed me away and asked what I meant. - -"'You said "How horrible, how horrible!" jest now, Lemon.' - -"To my surprise, he answered 'I didn't. You must have fancied it. Let -me be quiet.' - -"I didn't dispute with him, and we set here in the parlour for more -than an hour without saying a word to each other. Lemon hadn't been -drinking, sir; he was as sober as I am this minute. - -"'I think I'll go to bed, Fanny,' he said. - -"The tears come into my eyes, he spoke so soft. - -"'Shall I go and git your supper-beer, Lemon?' I asked. - -"'No,' he said, ketching hold of me. 'I won't be left alone in the -house with that--that devil up-stairs! I don't want no supper-beer.' - -"It was the first time he'd ever spoke of Devlin in that way, and I -knew that something out of the common must have happened. Perhaps -they'd quarrelled. O, how I hoped they had! It might put a end to -their partnership, and there would be a chance of peace and happiness -once more. - -"'I won't leave you. Lemon,' I said. 'I'll take that wretch his tea, -and I hope it'll choke him, and then I'll come to bed too. Shall I -make you some gruel, Lemon, or anything else you fancy?' - -"'No,' he answered. 'I don't want nothing--only to sleep, to sleep!' - -"I made the tea for Devlin, and it's a mercy I didn't have any poison -in the house, because I might have been tempted to put it in the -pot--though perhaps that wouldn't have hurt him. I knocked at his -door, and he said as pleasant as pleasant can be, 'Come in, Mrs. -Lemon. What a treasure you are! How happy Lemon ought to be with sech -a wife!' - -"But I didn't stop to talk to him. I put the tea on the table and went -down to Lemon. He was already in bed, and his head was covered with -the bedclothes. - -"'I'll jest run down,' I whispered, 'and put up the chain on the -street-door. I won't be a minute. Lemon.' - -"I was back in less than that, and I went to bed. Lemon never moved. I -spoke to him, but he didn't answer me; and after a little while I went -to sleep. - -"I woke up as the clock struck twelve all in a prespiration. Lemon was -talking in his sleep, and this is what he said: - -"'Victoria Park. Eighteen years old. Golden hair. With a bunch of -daisies in her belt. A bunch of white daisies, with blood on 'em! With -blood on 'em! With blood on 'em! O Lord, have mercy on her! Near the -water. Lord, have mercy on her! Lord, have mercy on her!' - -"And then, sir, he give a scream that curdled right through me, and -cried, 'Don't let him--don't let him! Save her--save her!' - -"How would _you_ feel, sir, if you heard some one laying by your side -saying sech things in the dead of night?" - - - - -CHAPTER XIII. - -IN WHICH FANNY NARRATES HOW HER HUSBAND HAD A FIT, AND WHAT THE DOCTOR -THOUGHT OF IT. - - -"Nothing more took place before we got up in the morning. Lemon torsed -about as usual, and kept groaning and talking to hisself, but, excep -what I've told you, I couldn't make head or tail of his mumblings. -Devlin come down to breakfast, and said, as gay as gay can be, - -"'I've had a lovely night.' - -"'Have you?' said I. I wouldn't have spoke if I could have helped it, -but he's got a way of forcing the words out of you. - -"'Yes,' he answered, 'a most lovely night. I've slep the sleep of the -just.' What he meant by it I don't know, but it's what he said. 'You -look tired, Mrs. Lemon.' - -"He grinned in my face, sir, as he made the remark, and my blood begun -to boil. - -"I've got enough to make me look tired,' I said. 'Lemon hasn't had a -decent night's rest for months.' - -"'You don't say so! But why not, why not?' asked Devlin, pitching into -the ham and eggs. - -"'You can answer that better than I can,' I said, jumping from the -table; 'You; yes, you!' - -"'Fanny!' cried Lemon. - -"'I don't care,' I said, feeling reckless; I think it must have been -because I was sure you'd come to my help, sir. 'I don't care. Things -aren't as they should be, and it stands to reason they can't go on -like this much longer.' - -"'O,' said Devlin, helping hisself to the last rasher. 'It stands to -reason, does it?' - -"'Yes, it does,' I answered. 'I'm Lemon's wife, and if he can't take -care of hisself it's my duty to do it for him.' - -"'Can't you take care of yourself?' asked Devlin of my poor husband. -'That's sad, very sad!' - -"'I can, I can,' cried Lemon. 'Fanny don't know what she's talking -about.' - -"'I thought as much,' said Devlin. 'Nerves unstrung. She wants bracing -up. I must prescribe for her.' - -"'Not if I know it,' I said. 'I've had enough of you and your -prescribing to last me a lifetime. Don't look at me like that, or -you'll drive me mad!' - -"'Was there ever sech an unreasonable woman?' said Devlin, and he come -and laid his hand upon me. 'Jest see how she's shaking. Lemon. She's -low, very low; I really must prescribe for her. Leave her to me. I'll -see that no harm comes to her.' - -"What with his great staring eyes piercing me through and through, and -his hand patting my shoulder, and his mocking voice, and the grin on -his face, all my courage melted clean away, and I burst out crying and -run into the kitchen. There I stayed till I heard the street-door -slam, and then I went back to clear the breakfast-things, with a -thankful heart that Devlin was gone. If he'd only have left my husband -behind him I should have been satisfied, but Lemon was gone too. There -was a bottle on the table with something in it, and a label on it in -Devlin's writing-- - -"For my dear kind friend, Mrs. Lemon. A tonic for her nerves. A -tablespoonful, in water, three times a day.' - -"'A tablespoonful, in water, three times a day,' thinks I to myself. -'Not if I know it.' - -"I was going to throw the bottle in the dusthole, but I thought I'd -better not, and I put it away on the top shelf of the cupboard, right -at the back. After that I went about my work, wondering how it was all -going to end, and casting about in my mind whether there was anything -I could do to get rid of the creature as was making our lives a -misery. But I couldn't think of nothing. - -"Lemon was never very fond of politics, but he likes to know what's -going on, and we take in a penny weekly newspaper as gives all the -news from one end of the week to the other, and how they do it for the -money beats me holler. The boy brings it every Sunday morning, and it -ain't once in a year that Lemon buys a daily paper. You'll see -presently why I mention it. - -"It was five o'clock in the afternoon, and I was setting sewing when I -hears the latchkey in the street-door. Now, Saturday is always a late -day with Lemon and Devlin; they don't generally come home till ten or -eleven o'clock at night, and I was surprised when I heard the key in -the lock. I knew it must be one or the other of 'em, because nobody -but them and me has a latchkey. I set and listened, wondering whether -it was Lemon and what had brought him home so early, and I made up my -mind, if it _was_ him, to have a good talk with him, and try and -persuade him once more to give up Devlin altogether. 'But why don't he -come in?' thought I. There he was in the street, fumbling about with -the key as though there was something wrong with it; and he stayed -there so long that I couldn't stand it no longer, so I goes to the -door and opens it myself. The minute it was open Lemon reels past me, -behaving hisself as if he was mad or drunk. I picked up the latchkey -which he'd dropped, and follered him into the parlour here. What made -him ketch hold of me, and moan, and cry, and look round as if he'd -brought a ghost in with him, and it was standing at his elber? And -what made him suddingly cover his face with his hands, and after -trembling like a aspen leaf, tumble down on the floor in a fit right -before my very eyes? There he laid, sir, twisting and foaming, a sight -I pray I may never see agin. - -"I knelt down quick and undid his neck-handkercher, and tried to bring -him to, but he got worse and worse, and all I could do wasn't a bit of -good. - -"There was nobody in the house but Lemon and me, and, almost -distracted, I run like mad to the chemist's shop at the corner of the -second turning to the right, who's got a son walking the horspitals, -and begged him to come with me and see my poor man. He come at once, -sir, and there was Lemon still on the floor in his fit. The doctor -unclarsped Lemon's hands and put something in 'em, and I slipped a -cold key down his back because his nose was bleeding. - -"'That's a good sign,' said the doctor, as he forced Lemon's jaws -apart and put a spoon between his teeth, which Lemon almost bit in -two. Then he threw a jug of cold water into Lemon's face, completely -satcherating him, and after that Lemon wasn't so violent; but he -didn't recover his senses or open his eyes. - -"'Let's git him to bed,' said the doctor. - -"He helped me carry Lemon up-stairs, where we undressed him, and it -wasn't before we got him between the sheets that he come to. - -"'Feel better?' asked the doctor. - -"But Lemon never spoke. - -"'Don't leave him,' said the doctor to me, and he went back to his -shop and brought a sleeping draught, which Lemon took, and soon -afterwards fell asleep. - -"'He won't wake,' said the doctor, 'for twelve hours at least. Is he -subject to fits?' - -"'No, sir,' I answered; 'this is the first he's ever had. Can you tell -me what's the matter with him? He ain't been drinking, has he?' - -"There's no sign of drink,' said the doctor, 'and no smell of it. -_Does_ he drink?' - -"'Not more than is good for him,' I said. 'I've never seen Lemon the -worse for liquor.' - -"'What I don't like about him,' the doctor then said, 'was the look in -his eyes when he come to his senses--as if he'd had a shock. Has he -taken a religious turn?' - -"'No, sir.' - -"'Is he sooperstitious at all?' - -"'No, sir.' - -"'The reason I ask, Mrs. Lemon,' said the doctor, 'is because this -don't seem to me a ordinary fit. Is there any madness in your -husband's family?' - -"'I never heard of any,' I answered, 'and I think I should have been -sure to know it if there was.' - -"'Very likely,' said the doctor, 'though sometimes they keep it dark. -All I can say is, there's something on Mr. Lemon's mind, or he's -received a mental shock.' - -"With that he went away. - -"Lemon by that time was sound as a top. The doctor must have given him -a strong dose to overcome him so, and it did my heart good to see him -laying so peaceful. But I couldn't help thinking over what the doctor -had said of him. There was either something on Lemon's mind or he'd -received a mental shock. And that was said without the doctor knowing -what I knew, for I'd kep my troubles to myself. I didn't as much as -whisper what Lemon had said in his sleep the night before about the -young girl in Victoria Park with golden hair and a bunch of white -daisies in her belt, covered with blood. - -"'Perhaps Lemon's been reading a story,' I thought, 'with something -like that in it, and it's took hold of him.' - -"There was nothing to wonder at in that. The penny newspaper we take -in always has a story in it that goes on from week to week, and always -ending at such a aggravating part that I can hardly wait to git the -next number. I fly for it the first thing Sunday morning, before I -read anything else. Lemon goes for the police-courts, and takes the -story afterwards. - -"My mind was running on in that way as I picked up Lemon's clothes, -which the doctor and me had tore off him and throwed on the floor; and -I don't mind telling you, sir, that I felt in the pockets. First, his -trousers. There was nothing in 'em but a few coppers and two-and-six -in silver. Then his westcoat. There was nothing in that but his silver -watch and a button that had come off. Then his coat. What I found -there was his handkercher, his spectacles, and a evening newspaper, I -folded his clothes tidy, and come down-stairs with the paper in my -hand. There must be something particular in it, thinks I, as I set -down in the parlour here, and opened it in the middle, and smoothed it -out. There was, sir. - -"The very first words I saw, in big letters, at the top of the column -was--'Dreadful and Mysterious Discovery in Victoria Park. Ruthless -Murder of a Young Girl. Stabbed to the Heart! A Bunch of Blood-stained -Daisies!' - -"Can you imagine my feelings, sir? - -"I could scarce believe my eyes. But there it was, staring me in the -face, like a great bill on the walls printed in red. The ink was -black, of course, but as I looked at the awful words they grew larger -and larger, and their colour seemed to change to the colour of blood." - - - - -CHAPTER XIV. - -DEVLIN APPEARS SUDDENLY, AND HOLDS A CONVERSATION WITH FANNY ABOUT THE -MURDER. - - -"Now, sir, while I was looking in a state of daze at the paper, and -trying to pluck up courage to read it, I felt a chill down the small -of my back, and I knew that our lodger Devlin had crep into the room -unbeknown, without me hearing of him. - -"'What is this I've been told as I come along?' he said. 'My friend -Lemon, your worthy husband, taken ill? It is sad news. Is he very ill? -Let me see him.' - -"What did I do, sir, but run out of the room, and up-stairs where -Lemon was sleeping, and whip out the key from the inside of the door -and put it in the outside, and turn the lock. Then I felt I could -breathe, and I went down-stairs to Devlin. - -"'Why do you lock the poor man in?' he asked. - -"'How do you know?' I said, 'that I have locked him in, unless you've -been spying me?' - -"'How do I know what I know?' he said, laughing. 'Ah, if I egsplained -you might not understand. Perhaps there's little I don't know. I've -travelled the world over, Mrs. Lemon, and there's no saying what I've -learnt. As for spying, fye, fye, my dear landlady! But you must be -satisfied, I suppose, being a woman. Have you ever heard of second -sight? It's a wonderful gift. Perhaps I've got it; perhaps I can see -with my eyes shut. Sech things are. But this is trifling. Poor Lemon! -I am really concerned for him. You musn't keep me away from him. I'm a -doctor, and can do him a power of good.' - -"'Not,' I said, and where I got the courage from in the state I was -in, goodness only knows, 'while there's breath in my body shall you -doctor my husband. Mischief enough you've done; you don't do no more.' - -"'Mischief, you foolish woman!' he said. 'What mischief? Have you took -leave of your senses?' But I didn't answer him. 'Ah, well,' he said, -shrugging his shoulders, 'let it be as you wish with my poor friend -Lemon. I yield always to a lady. What is this?' And he took up the -newspaper. 'You've been reading, I see, the particulars of this sad -case. It is more than sad; it is frightful.' - -"'I haven't read it,' I said. - -"'But you was going to?' - -"'I won't bemean myself by denying it,' I said. 'Yes, I was going to, -when you come into the room unbeknown and unbeware.' - -"I had it in my mind to say that it was a liberty to come into a room -as didn't belong to him without first knocking at the door, but his -black eyes was fixed on me and his moustache was curling up to his -nose, and I didn't dare to. - -"'When I come into the room,' he said, 'unbeknown and unbeware, as you -egspress it, you had no ears for anything. You was staring at the -paper, and your eyes was wild. What for? Is it a murder that frightens -you? Foolish, stupid, because murders are so common. How many people -go to bed at night and never rise from it agin, because of what -happens while they sleep! This murder is strange in a sort of way, but -not clever--no, not clever. A young girl, eighteen years of age, -beautiful, very beautiful, with hair of gold and eyes of blue, -receives a letter. From her lover? Who shall say? That is yet to be -discovered in the future. "Meet me," the letter says, "in Victoria -Park, at the old spot"--which proves, my dear landlady, that they have -met before in the same place--"at eleven o'clock to-night." An -imprudent hour for a girl so young; but, then, what will not love -dare? When you and Lemon was a-courting didn't you meet him whenever -he asked you at all sorts of out-of-the-way places? It is what lovers -do, without asking why. "And wear," the letter goes on, "in your belt -a bunch of white daisies, so that I may know it is you." Now, why -that? It is the request of a bungler. If the letter was wrote by her -lover--and there is at present no reason to suppose otherwise--he -would recognise his sweetheart without a bunch of white daisies in her -belt. What, then, is the egsplanation? That, also, is in the future to -be discovered. Let us imagine something. Say that between the young -girl with the hair of gold and the eyes of blue and the man that -writes the letter there is a secret, the discovery of which will be -bad for him. Pardon, you wish to ask something?' - -"'Yes,' I said, 'about the letter. How do you know it was wrote?' - -"'Did I say I know?' he answered, with his slyest, wickedest look. -'Ain't we imagining, simply imagining? Being in the dark, we must find -some point to commence at, and nothing can be more natural than a -letter.' - -"'Was it found in the young lady's pocket?' I asked. - -"'Nothing was found,' he answered, 'in the young lady's pocket.' - -"'Then it ain't possible,' I said, 'that the letter could have been -wrote.' - -"'Sweet innocence!' said Devlin, and with all these dreadful goings -on, sir, that was making me tremble in my shoes, he had the impidence -to chuck me under the chin--and Lemon up-stairs in the state he was! -'What could be easier than to empty a young lady's pockets when she's -laying dead before you. A job any fool could do. But the letter may be -found.' - -"'And the murderer, too,' I said, with a shudder, 'and hanged, I -hope!' - -"'I share your hope,' he said, with one of his strange laughs,' by the -neck till he is dead. The more the merrier. To continue our -imaginings. Between the young lady and her lover, as I said, there's a -secret as would be bad for him if it was made public--as might, -indeed, be the ruin of him. This secret may be revealed in the -correspondence as passed between them. The chances are that those -letters are not destroyed. Men are so indiscreet! Why, they often -forgit there's a to-morrer. The young lady is described as being -beautiful. More's the pity. Beauty's a snare. If ever I marry--which -ain't likely, Mrs. Lemon--I'll marry a fright. Beautiful as the young -lady is, her lover wishes to git rid of her. Perhaps he's tired of -her; perhaps he's got another fancy; perhaps he's seen her twin -sister, and is smit with her. There's any number of perhapses to fit -the case. But the poor girl, having been brought to shame----' - -"'Is that in the paper?' I asked, interrupting him. - -"'No,' he answered, 'but it may be. It is always so with those girls; -there's hardly a pin to choose between 'em. Naturally, she won't -consent to let him get rid of her--won't consent to release him--won't -consent to let him go free. They quarrel, and make it up. They quarrel -agin, and make it up agin. Days, weeks go by, till yesterday comes, -and she is to meet him at night. She's got a mother, she's got a -father; they set together, and she goes to bed early. She's got a -headache, she says, and so, "Good-night, mother; good-night, father;" -a kiss for each of 'em; and there's a end of kisses and good-nights. -The last page of her little book of life is reached. There's a lot in -that scene to make a body think--it's full of pictures of the past. -Think of all the days of childhood wasted; think of all the love, -laughter, hopes, joys--wasted; flowers, ribbons, fancies, -dreams--wasted; all that good men say is sweetest in life, and that's -played its part for so many, many years--all wasted. Better to have -been wicked at once, better to have been sinful and deceitful all -through--think you not so? "Good-night, mother; good-night, father," -and so--to bed? No. To go up to her little room and lock the door, to -dress herself in her best clothes, to make herself still more -beautiful--for that, you see, may melt her lover's heart--to put -the bunch of white daisies in her belt, to wait till the house is -quiet--so quiet, so quiet!--and then to steal out softly, softly! She -stops at mother's door and listens. Not a sound. Mother and father -sleep in peace. Remembrances of the past come to her in the dark, and -she cries a little, very quietly. Then she departs. It is done. From -that home she is gone for ever, and she is walking to her grave! The -park is still and quiet at that hour of the night; excep for a few -hungry wretches who prowl or sleep, the girl and the man have it all -to themselves. First--love passages. Twelve o'clock. They stop and -listen to the tolling of the bell--they all do that. Some smile and -sing at the chimes, some shiver and groan. Next--arguments, entreaties -to be released. He will be so good to her, O, so good, if she will -only release him! One o'clock. Next--more love-making and coaxing, -then threats, passionate reproaches, defiance. Ah, it has come to -that--the end is near! Two o'clock. He stabs her, quick and sudden, to -the heart? Hark! do you hear the wild scream? Her body is dead, -and her soul--? But that and other mysteries remain to be -unravelled--which may be--Never!'" - - - - -CHAPTER XV. - -FANNY DESCRIBES HOW SHE MADE UP HER MIND WHAT TO DO WITH LEMON. - - -"Devlin put down the newspaper, and waited for me to speak. I think, -sir, I've told you egsactly what he said, and as fur as possible in -his own words. They are so printed on my mind that I couldn't forgit -'em if I tried ever so hard. As he described what had took place it -was as if he was painting pictures, and he made me see 'em. I saw the -poor girl's home; I saw her setting with her father and mother in jest -sech a little room as this--for they are only humble people, sir; I -saw her kiss 'em good-night; I saw her in her bedroom a-doing herself -up before the looking-glass; I saw her put the bunch of white daisies -in her belt; I saw her steal out of the house to the park; I saw the -man and her walking about among the trees, and sometimes setting down -to talk; I heard a scream--another!--another!--and I covered my eyes -with my hands to shut it all out. I was so overcome that I hadn't -strength to wrench myself away from Devlin, who was smoothing my hair -with his hands. But presently I managed to scream: - -"'Don't touch me! Don't touch me, you--you----' - -"'You what?' asked Devlin in his false voice, moving a little away -from my chair. - -"My scream, and him speaking agin, brought me to myself. - -"'Never mind, never mind,' I said. 'If you know what I'm thinking -about, it's no use my telling you.' - -"'I do know,' he said. 'Why, it's wrote on your face. And I know, too, -that you want to ask me some questions. Fire away.' - -"'Mr. Devlin, I said, upon that, 'you slep at home last night, didn't -you?' - -"'Certainly, I did,' he answered. 'Don't you remember Lemon and me -coming in together?' - -"'Yes,' I said, 'I remember.' - -"'Don't you remember,' he said, 'that you brought me up a cup of tea -before you went to bed, and that I told you I had a lot of writing to -do, and that I said what a treasure you was, and how happy Lemon ought -to be with sech a wife?' - -"'Yes,' I said, 'I remember.' I couldn't say nothing else, it was the -truth. - -"'Inspired by the egsellent tea you make,' he went on, 'I stopped up -late and did my writing. If I mistake not, you put the chain on the -street-door before you went to bed.' - -"'Yes, I did.' - -"'And when you went down this morning the chain was still up?' - -"'Yes, it was.' - -"'And I breakfasted with you and Lemon?' - -"'Yes, you did.' - -"'And I presume you made my bed some time during the day?' - -"'Of course I did.' - -"'Did it look as if it had been slep in?' - -"'Yes.' - -"'So that you see, my dear landlady,' he said, grinning at me, 'that -it wasn't possible for me to have murdered the girl.' - -"'Who said you did it?' I asked, starting back, for he had come close -to me, and I thought he was going to touch me ag'in. - -"'You didn't say so,' he said, 'but you thought so. It was wrote in -your face, as I told you a minute ago. It is women like you who would -put a man's life in danger, and think no more of it than snuffing a -candle.' - -"He didn't remain with me much longer, but went up to his room. He was -right in what he said he saw wrote in my face while he was smoothing -my hair; an idea had entered my head that it was him who had killed -the poor girl. I think him bad enough for anything; there's nothing -wicked I wouldn't believe of him. But of course it wasn't possible for -him to have done it; and I thought with thankfulness it wasn't -possible for Lemon to have done it, for he never stirred out of the -house that night. It was what Lemon said in his sleep that made me -tremble and shiver. Why, sir, he spoke of the murder _before it was -done!_ It says in the papers that when the poor girl was found she had -been dead hours, and the doctor fixes it that she must have been -murdered between two and three o'clock in the morning. And two hours -and a half before she was murdered Lemon was raving in his sleep and -telling all about it! How did he know, sir? how did he know? - -"If it had been a ordinary case--if Lemon had only spoke in his sleep -about some murder or other, and I'd read the next day that a murder -_had_ been committed that night, it would have been strange, but -nothing so very much out of the way. Our minds sometimes runs on -dreadful things, enough to give one the creeps, and we ain't -accountable for everything we say when we're asleep. But Lemon said -Victoria Park, and it was done in Victoria Park. He said eighteen -years, and that was jest her age. He said golden hair, and she _had_ -golden hair. He said a bunch of white daisies, and she wore a bunch of -white daisies. He said blood on 'em, and there _was_ blood on 'em. He -said stabbed to the heart, and she _was_ stabbed to the heart! - -"I'll tell you, sir, what come to me, and made me feel almost like a -murderess. It was that if I'd really known what was going to happen -when I heard Lemon talking in his sleep, I might have saved the life -of that poor girl. But how was it possible for me to know? Still, that -didn't prevent me feeling like a guilty woman. - -"But how much did Lemon know? Did the wretch who killed the girl tell -him beforehand what he was going to do, and was Lemon wicked enough to -keep it to hisself? Was the murderer an acquaintance of Lemon's? If he -was, I made up my mind that a hour shouldn't pass after Lemon was -awake this morning before I put the police on the wretch's track. -Lemon would know his name, and where he lived, perhaps. Whatever was -the consequences, I'd do what I could to bring the monster into the -dock. - -"I was more than sorry that the doctor had give Lemon sech a -strong sleeping draught, and I prayed that he would wake up -sooner than I expected. I went to the bedroom, but there was -Lemon fast asleep, with a face as innocent as a babe unborn. He -wasn't dreaming, he wasn't talking; his mind was at rest as well -as his body. You know more than I do, sir. Could anybody with -something dreadful on his mind have slep' like that? But my mind -was made up. The very minute Lemon was sensible, and knew what -he was about, to the police-station he should go with me, and -make a clean breast of it." - - - - -CHAPTER XVI. - -MR. LEMON WAKES UP. - - -"I was that impatient that I hardly knew what to do. Minutes was like -dymens, and there Lemon lay like a log. Couldn't I bring him to his -senses somehow or other? I tried. I walked about heavy. I threw down -things. I even turned Lemon over, but it had no more effect on him -than water on a duck's back. He never give so much as a murmur, and I -don't think a earthquake would have roused him. I had to give it up as -a bad job, but I felt that it would be a mockery for me to go to bed, -because in the state I was in it wasn't likely I could git a wink of -sleep. Then I knew, too, that there wouldn't be a minute to lose when -Lemon opened his eyes, and that it was my duty to git everything -ready. So I spread out Lemon's clothes in regular order, not -forgetting his clean Sunday shirt, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, -and set down and waited all through that blessed night, looking at -Lemon. I didn't hear a sound in the room up-stairs, so I supposed that -Devlin was asleep, and I thought how dreadful it was to have a man -like that in the house, a man as spoke of murder as though he enjoyed -it. The only sound that come to my ears two or three times in the -night was the policeman on his beat outside as he passed through the -square, and you may guess, sir, I didn't get any comfort out of that. -I had my fancies, but I shook 'em off, though they made me shake and -shiver. One of 'em was that all of a sudden, jest as the policeman had -passed by, there rung through the square shrieks of 'Murder! murder!' -and millions of people seemed to be battering at the street-door and -crying that they'd tear Lemon and me to pieces. It didn't seem as if -they wanted to hurt Devlin, for there he was, standing and grinning at -us and the people, with that aggravating look on his face that makes -me burn to fly at him, if I only had the courage. Of course it was all -fancy, sir; but how would you like to pass sech a night? - -"At nine o'clock this morning, and not a minute before, Lemon woke up. -I had a cup of tea ready for him in the bedroom, and a slice of bread -and butter. He's gone off his breakfast for a long time past, and one -slice of bread and butter is as much as he can git down, if he can do -that. Before I took Devlin as a lodger, Lemon used to eat a big -breakfast, never less than a couple of rashers, and a couple of boiled -eggs on the top of that, and four or five slices of bread and butter -cut thick. It is a bad sign when a man begins to say he's got no -appetite for breakfast. If his stomach ain't going all to pieces, it's -something worse, perhaps. - -"'Why, Fanny,' said Lemon, seeing me with my bonnet on, 'have you been -out? What's the time?' - -"He spoke quite calm and cheerful; the sleeping draught had done him -good, and had made him forgit. - -"'The time's nine o'clock, Lemon,' I answered, 'and I ain't been out.' - -"'What's to-day?' he asked. - -"'Sunday,' I answered. - -"'Sunday!' he exclaimed. 'It's funny. Everything seems mixed. Sunday, -is it? But, I say, Fanny, if you ain't been out, what have you got -your bonnet on for?' - -"'I'm waiting for you,' I said. 'Git up, quick, you must come with me -at once.' - -"'Come with you at once,' he said, rubbing his eyes, to make sure -whether he was awake or asleep; and then he must have seen something -in my face, for he looked at me strange, and left off rubbing his -eyes, and began to rub his forehead. 'I can't understand it. Has -anything gone wrong?' - -"'Lemon,' I said, speaking very solemn, and speaking as I felt, 'you -know too well what has gone wrong, and I only hope you may be -forgiven.' - -"I shouldn't have stopped short in the middle if it hadn't been that -we heard Devlin moving about in the room up-stairs. I looked up at the -ceiling, and so did Lemon, and when I saw his face grow white I knew -that mine was growing white as well; and I knew, too, that Lemon was -gitting his memory back. - -"'Speak low, speak low,' he whispered. 'Devlin mustn't hear a word we -say. You hope I may be forgiven! For what? What have I done? O, my -head, my head! It feels as if it was going to burst!' - -"His face begun to get flushed, and the veins swelled out. I thought -to myself, I must be careful with Lemon; I mustn't be too sudden with -him, or he'll have another fit. I was going to speak soothing, when he -clapped his hand on my mouth and almost stopped my breath. - -"'Don't say nothing yet,' he said. 'You must tell me something first -that I want to know. I feel so confused--so confused! What's been the -matter with me? I don't remember going to bed last night.' - -"'You fell down in a fit, Lemon,' I said, 'and I had to get the doctor -to you.' - -"'Yes, yes,' he said eagerly. 'Go on--go on.' - -"'We carried you up-stairs here, the doctor and me, and undressed you -and put you to bed; and when you come out of your fit he give you a -sleeping draught.' - -"'It's not that I want to know,' he said. 'What _made_ me go into a -fit? I never had a fit before, as I remember. O Fanny, is it all a -dream?' - -"'Lemon,' I answered, 'you must ask your conscience; I can't answer -you. You come home with a evening paper in your pocket, a-moaning and -crying, and you ketches hold of me, and looks round as if a ghost had -follered you into the room, and then you falls down in your fit.' - -"'And him?' he said, pointing to the ceiling. 'Him--Devlin? Was he -with me? Did he see me while I was in the fit?' - -"'No,' I answered. 'He come home after we'd got you to bed, and said -he wanted to see you; but I wouldn't let him. I whipped up-stairs -here, and turned the key, so as he shouldn't git at you.' - -"'You did right, you did right. Was he angry?' - -"'If he was, he didn't show it. He kep with me a long time, talking -about the--the----' - -"'About the what?' asked Lemon, the perspiration breaking out on him. - -"'About the murder! Well may you shiver! It was in the newspaper you -brought home with you, and he read it out loud, and talked about it in -a way as froze my blood.' - -"'Blood!' groaned Lemon, 'Blood! O Fanny, Fanny!' - -"He is my husband, sir, and he was suffering, and I ain't ashamed to -say that I took him in my arms, and tried to comfort him. - -"'One word, Lemon,' I said, 'only one word before we go on. You ain't -guilty, are you?' - -"'Guilty?' he answered, but speaking quite soft; we neither of us -raised our voices above a whisper 'My God, no! How could I be? Wasn't -I at home and abed when it was done? O, it's horrible! horrible! and I -don't know what to think.' - -"'Thank God, you're innocent!' I said, and I was so grateful in my -heart that my eyes brimmed over. 'And you didn't have nothing to do -with the planning of it? Tell me that.' - -"'No, Fanny,' he said. '_Him_ up-stairs there--did _he_ sleep at home -last night?' - -"'Unless there's something going on too awful to think of,' I said, -'he did. I ain't been in bed, Lemon, since home you come yesterday and -had your fit. And here in this room I've been setting with you from -the time I put the chain on the street-door last night till now. I've -only left you once--to take in the milk at seven o'clock this morning, -and then the chain was on; it hadn't been touched. No one went out of -this house last night by the street-door.' - -"'They couldn't have gone out no other way,' said Lemon. - -"'I don't see how they could,' I said, though I had my thoughts. - -"'And the night before, Fanny,' said Lemon, and now he looked at me as -if life and death was in my answer, 'the night it was done, did he -sleep at home then?' - -"'To the best of my belief he did,' I said. 'You may put me on the -rack and tear me with red hot pinchers, and I can't say nothing but -the truth. He _did_ sleep here the night that awful murder was done in -Victoria Park. Drag me to the witness-box and put me in irons, and I -can't say nothing else. I saw him go to his room after I'd put up the -chain; he called out 'Good night;' and the next morning the chain was -up jest as I left it. You can't put the chain on the street-door from -the outside; it must be done from the in. And now, Lemon, listen to -me.' - -"'What do you want?' he groaned. 'O, what do you want? Ain't I bad -enough already that you try to make me worse?' - -"'I _must_ say, Lemon, what is on my mind.' - -"'Won't it keep, Fanny?' he asked. - -"'It won't keep,' I answered. 'You know the man as committed the -murder, and you'll come with me to the police-station, and put the -police on his track.' - -"'_Me_ know the wretch!' Lemon cried, his eyes almost starting out of -his head. 'Have you gone mad?' - -"'No, Lemon,' I answered, 'I'm in my sober senses. Whatever happens -afterwards, we've got to face the consequences, or we shall wake up in -the middle of the night and see that poor girl standing at our bedside -pointing her finger at us. It's no use trying to disguise it. I _know_ -you know the wretch, and deny it you shan't.' - -"'O,' he said, speaking very slow, as if he was choosing words, 'you -know I know him!' - -"'I do,' I answered. - -"'Perhaps,' he said, with something like a click in his throat, 'you -will tell me how that's possible, when it's gospel truth I've never -set eyes on him all my born days.' - -"'Lemon,' I said, 'be careful, O, be careful, how you speak of gospel -truth! Remember Ananias! You may beat about the bush as much as you -like, but I'm determined to do what I've made up my mind to, and -nothing shall drive me from it.' - -"'Of course,' he said, upon that, and speaking flippant, 'if you've -made up your mind to the egstent you speak of, I'd best shut my mouth. -I'll keep it shut till you tell me how you know what you say you -know.' - -"'Lemon,' I said, 'light you speak, but sech you don't feel. You can't -deceive me. When we was first married, you slep the sleep of -innocence, and your breathing was that regular as showed you had -nothing on your mind to take egsception to. But since that Devlin come -into the house, the way you've gone on of a night is simply awful. -Jumping about in bed as you've been doing night after night, and -screaming and talking in your sleep----' - -"'Talking in my sleep!' he cried, and I saw that I'd scared him. 'You -shouldn't have let me! Call yourself a wife? You should have stopped -me!' - -"'I couldn't help letting you, and I couldn't have stopped you, Lemon, -and I'm not sure whether it would have been right to do it if sech was -in my power.' - -"'What have I said, what have I said?' he asked. - -"'The night before last as ever was,' I said, 'when that dreadful deed -was done as was printed in the paper you brought home yesterday, you -said, while you was laying asleep on the very bed you're laying on -now, words as chilled my blood, and it's a mercy I'm alive to tell it. -You spoke of Victoria Park; you spoke of a beautiful young girl with -hair the colour of gold; you spoke--O, Lemon, Lemon!--you spoke of her -being stabbed to the heart; you spoke of a bunch of white daisies as -she wore in her belt, and you said there was blood on 'em----' - -"I had to stop myself, sir; for Lemon had hid his face in the -bedclothes, and was shaking like a man with Sam Witus's dance in his -marrer. I let him lay till he got over it a bit, and then he uncovered -his face; it was as white as a sheet. - -"'Fanny,' he said--and he was hardly able to get his words out--'there's -the Bible on the mantelshelf, there. Bring it to me.'" - - - - -CHAPTER XVII. - -LEMON'S VISION IN THE TWISTED COW. - - -"I fetched the Bible, sir, and he took it in his hand, and swore a -most solemn oath, and kissed the book on it, that he didn't know the -man, that he didn't know the girl, and that he had no more to do with -the murder than a babe unborn. Never in my life did I see a man in -sech a state as he was. - -"'But, Lemon,' I said, 'how could you come to speak sech words? How -could you come to know all about the murder hours and hours before it -was done?' - -"'I'll tell you, Fanny,' he said, 'as fur as I know; and if you was to -cut me in a thousand pieces I couldn't tell you more.' - -"'It ain't to be egspected,' I said. - -"'If there's men in the world,' Lemon went on, 'as can look into the -future, Devlin's one of 'em. If there's men in the world as can tell -you what's going to happen--without having anything to do with it -theirselves, mind--Devlin's one of 'em. The things he's told me of -people is unbelievable, but as true as true can be. "Did you take -particular notice of the gentleman whose hair I've been jest cutting?" -he said to me. "No," says I; "why should I?" "He's the great Mr. -Danebury that all the world's talking of," says he. "Is he?" says I. -"I wonder what brings him to our shop? What a charitable man he is! -"What a good, good man he is!" "Good ain't the word for him," says -Devlin. "He comes to our shop because it's out of the way. All the -while I was operating on him he was thinking of a little milliner's -girl as he's got an appointment with to-night. 'Pritty little -Ph[oe]be!' he was saying to hisself as I was cutting his hair. 'What -eyes she's got! Bloo and swimming! What a skin's she's got! like -satting, it is so white and smooth! What lips she's got! She's a bit -of spring, jest budding. Pritty little Ph[oe]be--pretty little -Ph[oe]be!'" "But what was he saying that for?" I asks. "He can't be in -love with her. He's a family man, ain't he?" "I should think he was a -family man," says Devlin. "He's got the most beautiful wife a man -could wish for, and as good as she's beautiful; and he's got -half-a-dozen blooming children. But that don't prevent his being in -love with pritty little Ph[oe]be, and he's got an appointment with her -to-night; and, what's more, he's going to keep it." I'm putting a true -case to you, Fanny,' says Lemon, 'one of many sech. I fires up at what -Devlin says about such a good man--that is, I used to fire up when -things first commenced. I don't dispute with him now; I know it's no -use, and that he's always right, and me always wrong. But then I did, -and I asks him how dare he talk like that of sech a man as Mr. -Danebury, as gives money to charities, and talks about being -everybody's friend. "O, you don't believe me!" Devlin says. "Well, -come with me to-night, and we'll jest see for ourselves." And I go -with him, and I see a pritty little girl walking up and down the dark -turning at the bottom of the Langham Hotel. Up and down she walks, up -and down, up and down. "That must be her," says Devlin. We keep -watching a little way off on the other side of the way, where it's -darker still than where she's walking and waiting, and presently who -should come up to her but the great Mr. Danebury; and he takes her -hand and holds it long, and they stand talking, and he says something -to make her laugh, and then he tucks her arm in his, and walks off -with her. "What do you think of that?" Devlin asks. "He's going to -take her to a meeting of the missionary society." What I think of it -makes me melancholy, and makes me ask myself, "Can sech things be?" At -another time Devlin says, "I shouldn't wonder if you heard of a big -fire to-morrer." "Why do you say that?" I asks. "The man who's jest -gone out," Devlin answers, "was thinking of one while I was shampooing -him--that's all." And that _was_ all; but sure enough I do read of a -big fire to-morrer in a great place of business that's heavily -insured, and there's lives lost and dreadful scenes. And then -sometimes when Devlin and me is setting together, he gits up all of a -sudden and stands over me, and what he does to me I couldn't tell you -if you was to burn me alive; but my senses seems to go, and I either -gits fancies, or Devlin puts 'em in my head; but when I come to -there's Devlin setting before me, and he says, "I'll wager," says he, -"that I'll tell you what you've been dreaming of." "Have I been -asleep?" I asks. "Sound," he answers, "and talking in your sleep." And -he tells me something dreadful that I've said about something that's -going to happen; and before the week's out it does happen, and I read -of it in the papers. For a long time this has been going on till I've -got in that state that I'd as soon die as live. If you don't -understand what I'm trying to egsplain, Fanny,' said my poor Lemon, -'it ain't my fault; it's as dark to me as it is to you. Sometimes I -says to Devlin, "I'll go and warn the police." "Do," says Devlin, "and -be took up as a accomplice, and be follered about all your life like a -thief or a murderer. Go and tell, and git yourself hanged or clapped -in a madhouse." Of course, I see the sense of that, and I keep my -mouth shut, but I get miserabler and miserabler. So the day before -yesterday--that's Friday, Fanny--Devlin and me is sitting in the -private room of the Twisted Cow, when he asks me whether I've ever -been to Victoria Park, and I answers "Lots of times." Now Fanny,' said -Lemon, breaking off in his awful confession, 'if you ain't prepared to -believe what's coming, I'll say no more. It'll sound unbelievable, but -I can't help that. Things has happened without me having anything to -do with 'em, and I'd need to be a sperrit instead of a man to account -for 'em.' - -"'Lemon,' I said, 'I'm prepared to believe everything, only don't keep -nothing from me.' - -"'I won't,' said Lemon; 'I'll tell you as near and as straight as I -can what happened after Devlin asked me whether I'd ever been to -Victoria Park. His eyes was fixed upon me that strange that I felt my -senses slipping away from me; it wasn't that things went round so much -as they seemed to fade away and become nothing at all. Was I setting -in the private room of the Twisted Cow? I don't know. Was it day or -night? I don't know. I wouldn't swear to it, though the moon _was_ -shining through the trees. The trees where? Why, in Victoria Park, and -no place else. And there was a man and a woman--a young beautiful -woman, with golden hair, and a bunch of white daisies in her -belt--talking together. How do I know that she's young and beautiful -when I didn't see her face? That's one of the things I'm unable to -answer. And I don't see the man's face, either. Whether a minute -passed or a hour, before I heard a shriek, I can't say, and perhaps it -ain't material. And upon the shriek, there, near the water, laid the -young girl, dead, with the bunch of white daisies in her belt, stained -with blood. Then, everything disappeared, and, trembling and shaking -to that degree that I felt as if I must fall to pieces, I looked up -and round, and found myself in the private room of the Twisted Cow, -with Devlin setting opposite me. "Dreaming agin, Lemon?" he says, with -a grin. But I don't answer him; my tongue sticks to the roof of my -mouth. That's all I know, Fanny. Whether I saw what I've told you, or -was told it, or only fancied it, is beyond me. What I've said is the -truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help me God!' - -"That's what I heard from Lemon's own lips this morning, sir, -up-stairs, abed, where he is laying now, with the door locked on him. - -"I took off my hat and cloak, and Lemon burst out crying. - -"'You believe me, Fanny!' he cried. - -"'I believe every word you said,' I answered. 'It's no use going to -the police-station this morning. A good friend of our'n is coming to -see me to-day, and we'll wait and do what he advises us. Only you must -promise to see him.' And I told him who you was, and why I wrote to -you on Friday before poor Lizzie Melladew met her death. - -"'I promise,' said Lemon, 'and you've done right, Fanny.' - -"And now, sir, I've told you everything as I said I would, and you -know as much as I do about this dreadful business." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII. - -FANNY'S STORY BEING CONCLUDED, I PAY A VISIT TO MR. LEMON, AND RESOLVE -TO INTERVIEW DEVLIN THE BARBER. - - -This was the story which Fanny related to me, and to which I listened -in wonder and amazement. As she related it I wondered at times whether -it was possible that what she said could be true, but I saw no reason -to question her veracity; and there certainly could be no doubt of her -sincerity. I had to some extent conquered the fascination which -Lemon's portrait on the wall, the stuffed bird in its glass case, and -the evil-looking monster on the mantelshelf had exercised over me, but -even now I could scarcely gaze upon them without a shudder. Fanny did -not relate her story straight off, without a break, and I need hardly -say that it was much longer than is here transcribed. But I have -omitted no important point; everything pertinent to the tragedy of the -murder of Mr. Melladew's daughter is faithfully set down. When she -finished it was quite dark; at my request she had not lighted lamp or -candle. - -There were breaks, as I have said. Twice she left off, and went -up-stairs to see Lemon, and give him something to eat and drink. - -"He knows you're here, sir," she said, when she returned on the first -occasion. - -"Is he impatient to see me?" I asked. - -"No, sir," she replied. "All he seems to want is to be left alone." - -"But he will see me?" - -"O, yes, sir! He'll keep his promise." - -Once there was an interval of more than half-an-hour, during which I -ate some cold meat and bread she brought me, and drank a pint bottle -of stout. - -There was another occasion when she suddenly paused, with her finger -at her lips. - -"What are you stopping for, Fanny?" I asked. - -"Speak low, sir," she said. "Devlin!" - -"Where?" I said, much startled. - -"He has just opened the street-door, sir." - -"I heard nothing, Fanny." - -"No, sir, you wouldn't. You don't know his ways as I do. Don't speak -for a minute or two, sir." - -I waited, and strained my ears, but no footfall reached my ears. -Presently Fanny said: - -"He's gone up to his room. He waited outside Lemon's door, and tried -it, I think. Have you any notion what you are going to do about him, -sir?" - -"My ideas are not yet formed, but I intend to see and speak with him." - -"You do, sir?" - -"I do, Fanny, A special providence has directed my steps here to-day. -I knew the poor girl who has been murdered." - -"Sir!" - -"Her family and mine have been friends for years. The interest I take -in the discovery of the murderer is no common interest, and I intend -to bring him to justice." - -"How, sir?" exclaimed Fanny, greatly excited. - -"Through Mr. Devlin. The way will suggest itself. You have not heard -him leave the house since he entered a little while since?" - -"No, sir. He is in his room now." - -"If," I said, "when I am with your husband--and I intend to remain -with him but a short time--Devlin comes down-stairs, let me know -immediately. Keep watch for him." - -"I will, sir. O, how thankful I am that you're here--how thankful, how -thankful!" - -"I hope we shall all have reason to be thankful. And now, Fanny, I -will go up to your husband." - -"I'll go in first, and prepare him, sir." - -"Let us have lights in the house. Don't leave Mr. Lemon in the dark. -Put a candle in the passage also." - -She followed my instructions, and then we went to her husband's -bedroom. I waited outside while she "prepared" him. It did not take -long to do so, and she came to the door and beckoned to me. I entered -the room, and desired her to leave us alone. - -"But don't lock us in," I added. - -"No, sir," she said. "Lemon's safe now you're with him." - -With that she retired, first smoothing the bedclothes and the pillow -with a kind of pitying, soothing motion as though Lemon was about to -undergo an operation. - -I moved the candle so that its light fell upon Lemon's face. A scared, -frightened face it was that turned towards me, the face of a man who -had received a deadly shock. - -It is unnecessary to say more than a few words about what passed -between Mr. Lemon and myself. My purpose was to obtain from him -confirmation of the strange mysterious story which Fanny had related. -In this purpose I succeeded; it was correct in every particular. What -I elicited from Lemon was elicited in the form of questions which I -put to him and which he answered, sometimes readily, sometimes -reluctantly. Had time not been so precious, my curiosity would have -impelled me to go into matters respecting Devlin other than the murder -of Lizzie Melladew, but I felt there was not a minute to waste; and at -the termination of my interview with Lemon I went into the passage, -where I found Fanny waiting for me. Whispering to her not to remain -there, in order that Devlin might not be too strongly prejudiced -against me--supposing him to be on the watch as well as ourselves--and -receiving from her instructions as to the position of his room, I -mounted the stairs with a firm, loud tread, and stood in the dark at -the door which was to conduct me to the presence of the mysterious -being. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX. - -FACE TO FACE WITH DEVLIN, I DEMAND AN EXPLANATION OF HIM. - - -I rapped with my knuckles, and a voice which could have been none -other than the voice of Devlin immediately responded, calling to me to -enter. The next moment I stood face to face with the strange creature, -concerning whom my curiosity was raised to the highest pitch. He was -sitting in a chair upon my entrance, and he did not rise from it; -therefore I looked down upon him and he looked up at me. As my eyes -rested on his face, I saw in it the inspiration of the evil expression -in the faces of Mr. Lemon's portrait, the stone monster, and the -bird's beak, which had made so profound an impression upon me in the -parlour on the ground-floor. - -"You have been in the house some time," said Devlin. - -"I have," I answered. - -"And have had a long, a very long, conversation with my worthy -landlady," he observed. - -"Yes," I said. - -"About me," he said, not in the form of a question but as a statement -of fact. - -"Partly about you." - -"And about poor Lemon?" - -"Yes, about him as well." - -"Sit down," said Devlin, "I expected you." - -There was only one other chair in the room besides the one he -occupied, and I accepted his invitation, and drew it up to the table. -And there we sat gazing at each other for what appeared to me a long -time in silence. - -The room was very poorly furnished. There were the two chairs, a small -deal table, and a single iron bedstead in the corner. Off the room was -a kind of closet, in which I supposed were a washstand and fittings. -There was only one other article in view in addition to those I have -mentioned, and that was a desk at which Devlin was writing.[1] He did -not put away his papers, and I was enabled to observe, without undue -prying, that his writing was very fine and very close. - -How shall I describe him? A casual observation of his face and figure -would not suffice for the detection of anything uncanny about him, but -it must be remembered that I was abnormally excited, and most -strangely interested in him. He was tall and dark, his face was long -and spare; his forehead was low; his eyes were black, with an -extraordinary brilliancy in them; his mouth was large, and his lips -thin. He wore a moustache, but no beard. In the order and importance -of the impressions they produced upon me I should place first, his -black eyes with their extraordinary brilliancy, and next, his hands, -which were unusually small and white. They were the hands of a lady of -gentle culture rather than those of a man in the class of life to -which Devlin appeared to belong. Not alone was his social standing -presumably fixed by the fact of his living in a room so poorly -furnished at the top of a house so common as Mr. Lemon's, but his -clothes were a special indication. They were shabby and worn; black -frock-coat, black trousers and waistcoat, narrow black tie. Not a -vestige of colour about them, and no sign of jewellery of any kind. - -"Well?" he said. - -I started. I had been so absorbed in my observance of him that I, who -should have been the first to plunge into the conversation, had -remained silent for a time so unreasonably long that the man upon whom -I had intruded might have justly taken offence. - -"I beg your pardon," I said; "did you not remark that you expected -me?" - -"Yes." - -"May I inquire upon what grounds your expectation was based?" - -He smiled; and here I observed, in the quality of this smile, a -characteristic of which Mrs. Lemon had given me no indication. Devlin -was evidently gifted with a touch of humour. - -"I reason by analogy," he said. "My landlady has very few visitors. -You are here for the first time, with an object. You remain closeted -with her for hours. She probably sent for you. During the long -interview down-stairs you have been told a great deal about me. You -hear me open the street-door, and you know I am in the house. My -landlady has a trouble on her mind, and mixes me up with it. You have -been made acquainted with this trouble and with my supposed connection -with it. Your curiosity has been aroused, and you determine to seek an -interview with me before you take your leave of her. You come up -uninvited, and here you are, as I expected. Am I logical?" - -"Quite logical." - -"In a common-sense view of commonplace matters--and everything in the -world is commonplace--lies the ripest wisdom. Follow my example. -Exercise your common sense." - -But I did not immediately speak. Devlin's words were so different from -what I had expected that I was for a moment at a loss. The prospect of -my being able to bring the murderer of Lizzie Melladew to justice and -of earning a thousand pounds did not appear so bright. - -"I will assist you," he resumed; "I will endeavour to set you at your -ease with me. Your scrutiny of me has been very searching; I ought to -feel flattered. What anticipations of my appearance you may have -entertained before you entered the room is your affair, not mine. How -far they are realised is your affair, not mine. But allow me to assure -you, my dear sir," and here he rose to his full height, and made me a -half-humorous, half-mocking bow, "that I am a very ordinary person." - -"That cannot be," I said, "after what I have heard." - -"It is the destiny," he said, resuming his seat, "of greater -personages than myself to be ranked much higher than they deserve. -Proceed." - -"I am here to speak to you about this murder," I said, plunging boldly -into the subject. - -"Ah, about a murder! But there are so many." - -"You know to which one I refer. The murder of a young girl in Victoria -Park, which took place the night before last." - -"I have heard and read of it," said Devlin. - -"You know also," I continued, "that the tragedy has produced in Mr. -Lemon a condition of mind and body which may lead to dangerous -results, probably to a despairing death." - -"All men must die," he said cynically. - -I was now thoroughly aroused. "I have come to you for an explanation," -I said, "and it must be a satisfactory one." - -"You speak like an inquisitor," said Devlin, with a quiet smile, and I -seemed to detect in his altered manner a desire to irritate me and to -drive me into an excess of passion. For this reason I kept myself -cool, and simply said, - -"I am resolved." - -"Good. Keep resolved." - -"I shall do so. By some devilish and mysterious means you were aware, -before the poor girl left her home on Friday night, that her doom was -sealed. You could have prevented it, and you did not raise a hand to -save her. This knowledge I have gained from Mr. Lemon, to whom, -through you, the impending tragedy was known." - -"Then why did _he_ not prevent it?" - -"It was not in his power. He was not acquainted with the names of the -murderer and his victim." - -"Was I?" - -"You must have been. I do not pretend to an understanding of the -extraordinary power you exercise, but I am convinced that, in -connection with you, there is a mystery which should be brought to -light, and if I can be the agent to unmask you I am ready for the -work. With all the earnestness of my soul, I swear it." - -A low laugh escaped Devlin's lips. "Were a commissioner of lunacy -here," he said, "you would be in peril. This young girl you speak of, -is she in any way connected with you?" - -"She was my friend; I knew her from childhood; she has sat at my table -with her sister and parents, and I and mine have sat at theirs. Her -family are plunged into the lowest depths of despair by the cruel, -remorseless blow which has fallen upon them." - -"And you have taken upon yourself the task of an avenger. It is -chivalrous, but is it entirely unselfish? I am always suspicious of -mere words; there is ever behind them a secret motive, hidden by a -dark curtain. I speak in metaphor, but you will seize my meaning, for -you are a man of nerve and intelligence, utterly unlike our friend in -the room below, whose nature is servile and abject, and who is not, as -you are, given to heroics. Calm yourself. I am ready to discuss this -matter with you, but in your present condition I should have the -advantage of you. You are heated; I am cool and collected. You have -some self-interest at heart; I have none. Your words are so wild that -any person but myself hearing them would take you for a madman. For -your own sake--not for mine, for the affair does not concern me--I -advise moderation of language. I suppose you will scarcely believe -that the man upon whom you have unceremoniously intruded, and against -whom you launch accusations, the very extravagance of which renders -them unworthy of serious consideration--you will scarcely believe that -this man is simply a poor barber who has not a second coat to his -back, nor a second pair of shoes to his feet. But it is a fact--a -proof of the injustice of the world, ever blind to merit. For I am not -only a barber, sir, I am a capable workman, as I will convince you. -Pray do not move; a cooling essence and a brush skilfully used effect -wonders on an over-heated head." - -It was not in my power to resist him. He had taken his place behind my -chair, and before he had finished speaking had sprinkled a liquid over -my head which was so overpoweringly refreshing that I insensibly -yielded to its influence. With brush and comb he arranged my hair, his -small white hands occasionally touching my forehead gently and -persuasively. When I thought afterwards of this strange incident I -called to mind that, for the two or three minutes during which he was -engaged in the exercise of his art, I was in a kind of quiet dream, in -which all the agitating occurrences of the previous day in connection -with the murder of Lizzie Melladew were mentally repeated in proper -sequence, closing with Mr. Portland's offer of a thousand pounds for -the discovery of the murderer. It was, as it were, a kind of panorama -which passed before me of all that occurred between morning and night. -I looked up, inexpressibly refreshed, and with my mind bright and -clear. Devlin stood before me, smiling. - -"Confess, sir," he said, in a soft persuasive tone, "that I have -returned good for evil. The fever of the brain is abated, or I am a -bungler indeed. We will now discuss the matter." - - - - -CHAPTER XX. - -DEVLIN ASTONISHES ME. - - -"I remarked to you just now," he said, seating himself comfortably in -his chair, "that I am always suspicious of mere words, for the reason -that there is ever a secret motive behind them. From what you have -said I should be justified in supposing that your desire to discover -the mystery in which the death of your poor young friend is involved -springs simply from sympathy with her bereaved family. I will not set -a trap for you, and pin you to that statement by asking questions -which you would answer only in one way. You would argue with yourself -probably as to the disingenuousness of those answers, but would -finally appease your conscience by deciding that I, a perfect stranger -to you and your affairs, cannot possibly have anything to do with the -private motives by which you are influenced. Say, for instance, by -such a motive as the earning of a reward which we will put down at a -thousand pounds." - -For the life of me I could not restrain a start of astonishment. It -was the exact sum Mr. Portland had offered me. By what dark means had -Devlin divined it? - -"You need not be discomposed," said Devlin. "The thing is natural -enough. You have credited me with so much that it will harm neither of -us if you credit me with a little more--say, with a certain faculty -for reading men's thoughts. The world knows very little as yet; it has -much to learn; and I, in my humble way, may be a master in a new -species of spiritual power. Now, I have a profound belief in Fate; -what it wills must inevitably be. And, impressed by this article of -faith, I, the master, may be willing to become the slave. Fate has led -you to this house, and it may be that you are an instrument in -discoveries yet to be made. I continue, you observe, to speak -occasionally in metaphor. Be as frank with me as I have been with you. -No, don't trouble yourself to speak immediately. In the words you were -about to utter there is a subterfuge; you have not yet made up your -mind to be entirely open with me. You and I meet now for the first -time. Before this day I have never known of your existence, nor have -you been aware of mine." - -"If that be true," I said, interrupting him, "what made you mention -the reward of a specific sum?" - -"Of a thousand pounds?" he asked, smiling. - -"Exactly." - -"Do you deny that such a reward has been offered to you?" - -"I do not deny it; but by what mysterious means did you come to the -knowledge of it?" - -"Because it is in your mind, my dear sir," he said. - -"That is no answer." - -"Is it not? I should have thought it would satisfy you, but you are -inclined to be unreasonable. Come, now, I will show you how little I -am concealing from you with respect to my knowledge of your -movements." He shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked at me from -beneath it. - -"I do not know your name, nor in what part of London you reside, but -certainly you and your wife--no doubt a most estimable lady--were -sitting together at breakfast yesterday morning." - -He paused, and waited for me to speak. "It is quite true," I said; -"but there is nothing unusual in husband and wife partaking of that -meal in company." - -"Nothing in the least unusual if a man is master of his own time, as -you were yesterday morning, for the first time for a long while past. -The fact is, you had lost a situation in which you have been employed -for years." - -I sat spellbound. Devlin continued: - -"The breakfast-things are on the table, and you and your lady are -discussing ways and means. You are not rich, and you look forward with -some fear to the future. Times are hard, and situations are not easy -to obtain. In the midst of your consultation a man rushes into the -room. He is a middle-aged man. Shall I describe him?" - -"If you can," I said, my wonder growing. - -He gave me a fairly faithful description of Mr. Melladew, and -proceeded: - -"A great grief has fallen upon this man. It is only within the last -hour that he has discovered that his daughter had been murdered. He -remains with you some time, and then other persons make their -appearance, among them newspaper reporters and policemen, all -doubtless drawn to your house by this business of the murder. You have -also an interview with a young gentleman. The day passes. It is -evening, and you are seated with another person. By this person you -are offered one thousand pounds if you discover the murderer of the -young girl, and another thousand if you find her sister, who has -strangely disappeared. I do not wish to deprive you of such credit as -belongs to a man who sympathises with a friend in trouble; but it is -certainly a fact that the dim prospect of earning such a handsome sum -of money is very strong within you. That is all." - -I deliberated awhile in silence, and Devlin did not disturb my -musings. All that he had narrated had passed through my mind while he -was engaged in dressing my hair. Had he the power of reading thoughts -by the mere action of his fingers upon a man's head? No other solution -occurred to me, and had I not been placed in my present position I -should instantly have rejected it; but now I was in the mood for -entertaining it, wild and incredible as it appeared. During this -interval of silence I made a strong endeavour to calm myself for what -was yet to take place between me and Devlin, and I was successful. -When I spoke I was more composed. - -"You say you do not know where I live. Is it true?" I asked. - -"Quite true," he answered. - -"You do not really know my name?" - -"I do not." - -"Nor the names of my visitors?" - -"Nor the names of your visitors." - -"But you must be aware," I said, "admitting, for the sake of argument, -that you are not romancing----" - -"Yes," he said, laughing, "admitting that, for the sake of argument." - -"You must be aware that the name of the first man who visited me--he -being, as you have declared, the father of the murdered girl--is -Melladew." - -"I am aware of it, not from actual knowledge, but from what I have -read in the newspapers." - -"But of the name of the gentleman who, you say, offers the reward of a -thousand pounds, you are ignorant." - -"Quite ignorant. Now, having replied to your questions frankly, -confess that you have forced yourself upon me with a distinct motive, -in which I, a stranger to you, am interested." - -"My object is to discover the murderer and bring him to justice." - -"A very estimable design." - -"And also to discover what has become of the murdered girl's sister." - -"Exactly. How do you propose to accomplish your object?" - -"Through you." - -"Indeed! Through me?" - -"As surely as we are in the same room together, through you. Receive -what I am about to say as the fixed resolve of a man who sees before -him a stern duty and will not flinch from it. Having come into -association with you, I am determined not to lose sight of you. I put -aside any further consideration of a strange and inexplicable mystery -in connection with yourself as being utterly and entirely beyond my -power to understand." - -"My dear sir," said Devlin, with a glance at his shabby clothes, "you -flatter me." - -"All my energies now are bent to one purpose, which, through you, I -shall carry to its certain end. You have made yourself plain to me. I -hope up to this point I have made myself plain to you." - -"You are the soul of lucidity," said Devlin, "but much remains yet to -explain. For the sake of argument we have admitted an element of -romance into this very prosaic matter; for it is really prosaic, -almost commonplace. Life is largely made up of tragedies and -mysteries, the majority of them petty and contemptible, a few only -deserving to be called grand. As a matter of fact, my dear sir, -existence, with all its worries, anxieties, hopes, and disappointments, -is nothing better than a game of pins and needles. It is the littleness -of human nature that magnifies a pin prick into a wound of serious -importance. To think that some of these mortals should call themselves -philosophers! It is laughable. Do you follow me?" - -"Not entirely," I replied, "but I have some small glimmering of your -meaning." - -"Were your mind," said Devlin, shaking with internal laughter, "quite -free from the influence of that thousand pounds, it would be clearer. -In the grand Scheme of Nature, so far as mortals comprehend it, the -potent screw is human selfishness. These speculations, however, are -perhaps foreign to the point. Let us continue our amicable argument -until we thoroughly understand each other upon the subject of this -murder. You see, my dear sir, I wish to know exactly how I stand; for -despite the extraordinary opinion you have formed of me, it is you who -have assumed the _rôle_ of Controller of Destinies. I am but a mere -instrument in your hands." He measured me with his eyes. "You are well -built, and are, I should judge, a powerful man." - -"You are contemplating the probability of a physical struggle between -us," I said. "Dismiss it; there will be none." - -He made me a mocking bow. "My mind is, indeed, relieved. You do not -intend violence, then. I am free to leave the house if I wish--at this -moment, if I please. Have you taken that contingency into account?" - -"I have." - -"You will not attempt to detain me by force?" - -"No." - -"In such an event, how will you act?" - -"I shall follow you, and to the first policeman I meet I shall say, -'Arrest that person. He is implicated in the murder of Lizzie -Melladew.'" - -Devlin cast upon me a look of admiration. "That would be awkward," he -said. - -"Decidedly awkward--for you." - -"You would be asked to furnish evidence." - -"Direct evidence it would be, at present, out of my power to supply," -I said; I was on my mettle; my mental forces were never clearer, were -never more resolutely set upon one object; "but there is such a thing -as circumstantial evidence. Mr. Lemon and his wife should come -forward, and relate all that they know concerning you. You and Mr. -Lemon are carrying on a business somewhere; the place should be -searched; it should be made food for the multitude who are ever on the -hunt for the sensational. Your desk on the table here contains -writings of yours; they may throw light upon the investigation. So we -should go on, step by step, independent of your assistance, until we -get the murderer--who may or may not be an accomplice of yours--into -the clutches of the law." - -Towards the end of this speech I had risen and approached the window, -which faced the square. Mechanically lifting the blind, I looked out, -and saw what arrested my attention. By the railings on the opposite -side, with his eyes raised to the window, was the figure of a man. He -was standing quite motionless, and, the night being fine, with a -panoply of stars in the sky, I presently recognised the figure to be -that of George Carton, poor Lizzie Melladew's distracted lover. At -some little distance from him was the figure of another man, whose -movements were distinguished by restlessness, and in him I recognised -Carton's guardian, Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. - -"Looking for a policeman?" inquired Devlin, with a touch of amusement -in his voice. - -"No," I replied, "but I am pleased to discover that I am not alone, -that I have friends outside ready to assist me the moment I call upon -them." - -Devlin rose, and joined me at the window. - -"Is your sight very keen?" he asked. - -"Keen enough to recognise friends," I said. - -"Mine is wonderful," said Devlin, "quite catlike; another of my -abnormal qualities. I can plainly distinguish the features of the two -men upon whom we are gazing. One is young. Who is he?" - -"His name," I replied, believing that entire frankness would be more -likely to win Devlin to my side, "is George Carton." - -"I recognise him; he was in your house yesterday morning. He seems -distressed. There is a troubled look in his face." - -"He was the murdered girl's lover." - -"Ah! And the other, the elder man, casting anxious glances upon the -younger--who may he be?" - -"His name is Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. He is young Carton's guardian." - -"Thank you," said Devlin, returning to his seat at the table. I -dropped the blind, and resumed my seat opposite to him, and then I -observed a singular smile upon his face, to which I could attach no -meaning. - -"I presented," he said, "a certain contingency to you, the contingency -of my leaving this house, and you have been delightfully explicit as -to the course you would pursue. But, my dear sir, crediting myself -with a species of occult power, which you appear ready to grant to me, -might it not be in my power to vanish, to disappear from your sight -the moment the policeman you would summons attempted to lay hands upon -me?" - -"I must chance that," I said. - -"Good. Nothing of the sort will occur, I promise. I cannot carry on my -pursuit as a Shadow. The idea of leaving the house did occur to me; I -banish it. Well, then, suppose I remain here; suppose I put an end to -this discussion; suppose I go to bed. To all your vapourings, suppose -I say, 'Go to the devil!' Why on earth do you stare at me so? It is a -common saying, and the awful consequences of such a journey are seldom -thought of. I repeat, I say to you, 'Go to the devil!' What, then?" - -"I still could summon a policeman," I said; "but even if I postponed -that step or you managed to escape from me, I have a talent which, now -that it occurs to me, I shall immediately press into my service." - -"Enlighten me." - -I took from my pocket some letters, and tore from them three blank -leaves, upon which I set to work with pencil. My task occupied me ten -minutes and more, during which time Devlin, sitting back in his chair, -watched me with an expression of intense amusement in his face. When I -had finished I handed him one of the blank leaves. - -"My portrait!" he exclaimed. "I am an artist myself, as you have seen -in Mrs. Lemon's parlour. This picture is the very image of me!" - -"There is no mistaking it," I said complacently. "It will insure -recognition." - -"In what way do you propose to turn it to advantage, in the event of -my being contumacious?" - -"You have doubtless," I said, "noted the changes that have taken place -in the life of civilised cities?" - -"Excellent," he said. "My dear sir, you compel my admiration; you are -altogether so different a person from the simpleton who lies shaking -in his bed on the floor below. You have brain power. My worthy -landlord and partner would have as well fulfilled his destiny had he -been a mouse. The changes that have taken place! Ah, what changes have -I not seen, say, in the course of the last thousand years!" And here -he laughed loud and long. "But proceed, my dear sir, proceed. How do -these changes affect me in the matter we are now considering?" - -"There was a time----" - -"Really, like the beginning of a fairy story," he interposed. - -"When public opinion was of small weight, whereas now it is the most -important factor in social affairs." - -"Lucidly put. I listen to you with interest." - -"The penny newspaper," I observed sagely, "is a mighty engine." - -"You speak with the wisdom of a platitudinarian." - -"It enlists itself in the cause of justice, and frequently plays, to a -serviceable end, the part of a detective. You may remember the case of -Leroy." - -"A poor bungler, a very poor bungler. A small mind, my dear sir, eaten -up by self-conceit of the lowest and meanest quality." - -"For a long time Leroy evaded justice, but at length he was arrested. -A popular newspaper published in its columns a portrait of the -wretch----" - -"I see," said Devlin, "and you would publish my portrait in the -newspapers?" - -"In every paper that would give it admittance; and few would refuse. -Beneath it should be words to the effect that it was the portrait of a -man who knew, before its committal, that the murder of the poor girl -Lizzie Melladew was planned, and who must, therefore, be implicated in -it. The portrait would lead to your arrest, and then Mr. and Mrs. -Lemon would come forward with certain facts. Mr. Devlin, I would make -London too hot to hold you." - -"An expressive phrase. Your plan is more than ordinarily clever; it is -ingenious. And London," said Devlin thoughtfully, "is such a place to -work in, such a place to live in, such a place to observe in! To be -banished from it would be a great misfortune. What other city in the -world is so full of devilment and crime; what other city in the world -is so full of revelations; what other city in the world is so full of -opportunities, so full of contrasts, so full of hypocrisy and -frivolity, so full of cold-blooded villainy? The gutters, with their -ripening harvests of vice for gaol find gallows; the perfumed gardens, -the fevered courts; the river, with its burden of jewels and beauty, -with its burden of woe and despair; the bridges, with their nightly -load of hunger, sin, and shame; the mansions, with their music, and -false smiles, and aching hearts; the garrets, with their dim lights -flickering; the bells, with their solemn warning; the busy streets, -with their scheming life; the smug faces, the pinched bellies, the -satins, the rags, the social treacheries, the suicides, the secret -crimes, the rotting souls! My dear sir, the prospect of your making -such a field too hot to hold even such a poor tatter-demalion as -myself overwhelms me. What is the alternative?" - -"That you pledge yourself by all that is holy and sacred to give me -your fullest assistance towards the discovery of Lizzie Melladew's -murderer." - - - - -CHAPTER XXI. - -DEVLIN AND I MAKE A COMPACT. - - -"A sacred and holy pledge," said Devlin, "from me? Is it possible that -you ask _me_ to bind myself to you by a pledge that you deem holy and -sacred?" - -"I know of no other way to secure your assistance," I said, feeling -the weight of the sneer. - -"If you did, you would adopt it?" - -"Assuredly." - -"So that, after all, you are to a certain extent in my power." - -"As you to a certain extent are in mine." - -"A fair retort. Before I point out to you how illogical and -inconsistent you are, let me thank you for having converted what -promised to be a dull evening into a veritable entertainment. It is a -real cause for gratitude in such a house as Lemon's, of whom I have -already spoken disparagingly, but of whom I cannot speak disparagingly -enough. My dear sir, that person is devoid of colour, his moral and -physical qualities are feeble, his intellect may be said to be washed -out. It is the bold, the daring, that recommends itself to me, -although I admit that there are curious studies to be found among the -meanest of mortals. Now, my dear sir, for your inconsistency and your -lack of the logical quality. My worthy landlady has conveyed to you an -impression of me which, to describe it truthfully, may be designated -unearthly. How much farther it goes I will not inquire. Her small -capacity has instilled into what, as a compliment, I will call her -mind, a belief that I am not exactly human--in point of fact, that if -I am not the Evil One himself, I am at least one of his satellites. -Common people are inclined to such extravagances. They believe in -apparitions, vampires, and supernatural signs, or, to speak more -correctly, in signs which they believe to be supernatural. The most -ordinary coincidences--and think, my dear sir, that there are myriads -of circumstances, of more or less importance, occurring every -twenty-four hours in this motley world, and that it is a mathematical -certainty that a certain proportion of these myriads should be coeval -and should bear some relation to each other--the most ordinary -coincidences, I repeat, are outrageously magnified by their -imaginations when, say, sickness or death is concerned. A woman wakes -up in the night, and in the darkness hears a ticking--tick, tick, -tick! She rises in the morning, and hears that her mother-in-law has -died during the night. 'Bless my soul!' she exclaims. 'I knew it, I -knew it! Last night I woke up all of a tremble'--(which, she did not, -but that is a detail)--'and heard the death-tick!' The story, being -told to the neighbours, invests this woman, who is proud of having -received a supernatural warning, with supreme importance. She becomes -for a time a social star. She relates the story again and again, and -each time adds something which her imagination supplies, until, in the -end, it is settled that her mother-in-law died at the precise moment -she woke up; that she saw the ghost of that person at her bedside, -very ghastly and sulphury, in the moonlight--(it is always moonlight -on these occasions)--that the ghost whispered in sepulchral tones, 'I -am dying, good-bye;' that there was a long wail; and that then she -jumped out of bed and screamed, 'My mother-in-law is dead!' This is -the story after it has grown. What are the facts? The woman has eaten -a heavy supper, and she sleeps not so well as usual; she wakes up in -the middle of the night. In the kitchen a mouse creeps on to the -dresser, after some crumbs of bread and cheese which are in a plate. -The ever-watchful cat--I love cats, especially good mousers--jumps -upon the dresser, with the intention of making a meal of the mouse. On -the dresser, then, at this precise moment, are the plate containing -the crumbs of bread and cheese, the mouse, and the cat. There are -other things there, of course, but there is only one other thing -connected with the story, and that is a jug half-full of water. The -cat, jumping after the mouse, overturns this jug, and the water flows -till it reaches the edge of the dresser, whence it drips, drips, -drips, upon the floor. This is the tick, tick, tick which the woman -up-stairs hears--the death-tick of her mother-in-law! Her mother-in-law -is eighty-seven years of age, and has been ill for months; her death -is daily expected. She dies on this night, and the story is complete. -A dying old woman, eighty-seven years of age, her daughter-in-law who -has eaten too much supper, a plate of crumbs, a jug with water in it, -a cat, and a mouse. Of these simple materials is a message from the -unseen world created, which enthrals the entire neighbourhood. Analyse -the miracles handed down from ancient times, some of which are woven -into the religious beliefs of the people, and you will find that they -are composed of parts as common and vulgar." - -I made no attempt to interrupt Devlin in his narration of this -commonplace story. He had, when he chose to exercise it, a singularly -fascinating manner, and his voice was melodious, and when he paused I -felt as if I had been listening to an attractive romance. While he -spoke, his fingers were playing with a penholder and a pencil which -were on the table; the penholder was long, the pencil was short, and I -observed that he had placed one upon the other in the form of a cross. - -"I am dull, perhaps," I said, "but I do not see how your story proves -me to be illogical and inconsistent." - -"I related it," replied Devlin, looking at the cross, "simply to show -how willing people are to believe in the supernatural. My worthy -landlady believes that I am a supernatural being; her husband believes -it; _you_ are inclined to lend a ready ear to it. And yet you tell me -that you will be satisfied with a sacred and holy pledge from me, -knowing, if you are at all correct in your estimate of me, that such a -pledge is of as much weight and value as a soap bubble. How easy for -me to give you this pledge! And all the while I may be a direct -accessory in the tragedy you have resolved to unriddle." - -"I thank you for reminding me," I said. "You shall swear to me that -you have had no hand in this most horrible and dastardly murder." - -"More inconsistency, more lack of logical perception," he said, and -the magnetism in his eyes compelled me to fix my gaze upon the cross -on the table. "You ask me to swear, and you will be content with my -oath. I render you my obligations for your faith in my veracity. How -shall I swear? How shall I deliver myself of the sacred and holy -pledge? There are so many forms, so many symbols, of pledging one's -mortal heart and immortal soul. The civilised Jew, when he is married -to his beloved under the canopy, grinds a wine glass to dust with the -heel of his boot, and the guests and relatives, especially the -relatives of the bride, lift up their voices in joyful praise, with -the conscious self-delusion that this sacred rite insures the -faithfulness of the bridegroom to the woman he has wedded. Some burn -wax candles--very bad wax often--for the release of souls from -purgatory. The Chinaman, called upon for his oath, blows out a candle, -twists the neck of a terrified cock, or smashes a saucer. The -Christian kisses the New Testament; the Jew kisses the Old. The -Christian swears with his hat off; the Jew with his hat on. I could -multiply anomalies, all opposed to each other. Which kind of -obligation would you prefer from me? A cock or a hen? Produce the -sacred symbol, and I am ready. Shall my head be covered or uncovered? -As you please. Ah, how strange! With this pencil and penholder my -fingers have insensibly formed a cross. Shall I swear upon that, and -will it content you? Take your choice, my dear sir, take your choice. -Call me Jew, Christian, Pagan, Chinaman--which you please. I am -willing to oblige you. Or shall we be sensible. Will you take my -simple word for it?" - -"I will," I said; "but I must have a hostage." - -"Anything, anything, my dear sir. Give it a name." - -"Your desk," I said, "which not unlikely contains private writings and -confessions." - -"It does," he replied, tapping on the desk with his knuckles. "You -little dream of the treasures, the strange secrets, herein contained. -You would have this as a hostage?" - -"I would." - -"It shall be yours, on the understanding that if I claim it from you -within three months after the mystery of the murder of Lizzie Melladew -is cleared up, you will deliver it to me again intact, with its -contents unread." - -"I promise faithfully," I said. - -"I must trouble you," he said; and he suddenly placed his hand upon my -forehead, and stood over me. "Yes," he said, resuming his seat, "the -promise is faithfully made. You will keep it." - -He locked the desk, and pushed it across the table to me, putting the -key in his pocket. - -"And now, your word of truth and honour," I said. - -"Give me your hand. On my truth and honour I pledge myself to you. -Moreover, if it will ease your mind of an absurd suspicion, I declare, -on my truth and honour, that I have had nothing whatever to do with -this murder." - -His words carried conviction with them. - -"But you will assist me in my search?" I said. - -"To the extent of my power. Understand, however, that I do not -undertake that your search shall be successful. It does not depend -upon me; accident will probably play its part in the matter. There is -a clause, moreover, in our agreement to which I require your adhesion. -It is, that during your search you will do nothing to fasten publicity -upon me, and that, in the event of your succeeding, I shall not be -dragged into the case." - -"Unless you are required as a witness," I said. - -"I shall not be required. I have no evidence to offer which a court of -law would accept." - -"Who is to be the judge of that?" - -"You yourself." - -"I agree. You must not regard me as a spy upon your movements when I -tell you I shall sleep in this house to-night." - -"Not at all. That you are a man of mettle--a man who can form a -resolution and carry it out, never mind at what inconvenience to -yourself--makes your company agreeable to me. I like you; I accept you -as my comrade, for a brief space, in lieu of that miserable groveller -Lemon, who has no more strength of nerve than a jelly-fish. Sleep in -the house, and welcome. Sleep in this room." - -"Where?" I asked, looking around for the accommodation. - -"A shake-down on the floor. Our mutual good friend Mrs. Lemon shall -bring up a mattress, a pillow, a sheet, and a pair of blankets, and -you shall lie snug and warm. I do not offer you my own bed, for I know -that, having the instincts of a gentleman, you would not accept it, -but I offer you the hospitality of my poor apartment. We will sup -together, we will sleep together, in the morning we will breakfast -together, and we will go out to business together, you taking the -position of poor Lemon, whom, from this moment, I cast off for ever. -What say you?" - -I debated with myself. It was important that I should not lose sight -of Devlin; left to my own resources, I should not know how to proceed; -I depended entirely upon him to supply me with a clue. But what could -be his reason for proposing that we should go out to business -together? Of what use could I be in a barber's shop, and how would my -presence there assist me? As, however, he appeared to be dealing -frankly and honestly, my best course perhaps would be to do the same. -Therefore I put the questions which perplexed me in plain language. - -"My dear sir," he replied, "in my place of business, and in no other -place, shall we be able to find a starting-point. Do not entail upon -me the necessity of saying 'upon my truth and honour' to everything I -advance. Have confidence in me, and you will be a thousand pounds the -richer, probably two, if the gentleman who made you the offer keeps -his word." - -I hesitated no longer. I would act frankly and boldly, and for the -next twenty-four hours at least would be guided by him. - -"I accept your hospitality," I said, "and will do as you wish." - -"Good," he said, rubbing his hands; "we may regard the campaign as -opened. Woe to the murderer! Justice shall overtake him; he shall -hang!" He uttered these words in a tone of malignant satisfaction, and -as though the prospect of any man being hanged was thoroughly -agreeable to him. "I will prove to you," he continued, "how completely -you can trust me. You came here to-day with the intention of returning -home and sleeping there. Your absence will alarm your wife. You must -write to her." - -He placed notepaper and envelopes before me, and took from the -mantelshelf a penny stone bottle of ink, then pointed to the pen which -formed part of the cross upon the table. - -I wrote a line to my wife, informing her that events of great -importance had occurred in relation to the murder of Lizzie Melladew, -and that, for the purpose of following up the threads of a possible -discovery, I intended to sleep out to-night; I desired her in my -letter to go and see Mr. Portland and tell him that I was engaged in -the task he had intrusted to me, and believed I should soon be in -possession of a clue. "Have no anxiety for me," I said; "I am quite -safe, and no harm will befall me. The prospect of unravelling this -dreadful mystery fills me with joy." She would know what I meant by -this; the murderer discovered, we should be comparatively rich. I -fastened and addressed my letter. - -"It should reach her hands to-night," said Devlin. "How will you send -it?" - -I stepped to the window, and, looking out, distinguished the figures -of George Carton and Mr. Kenneth Dowsett, Mr. Dowsett seemed to be -endeavouring, unavailingly, to persuade his ward to come away with -him. I could employ no better messenger than George Carton; he should -take my letter to my wife. Returning to the centre of the room, my -eyes fell upon Devlin's desk. Devlin smiled and nodded; he knew what -was passing in my mind. - -"I shall send my letter," I said, "by the hands of George Carton, who -is still in the square, and I shall send your desk with it." - -"Do so," said Devlin. - -I opened the envelope, and tearing it into very small pieces flung -them out of window. Devlin smiled again. - -"So that I should not discover your address," he said. - -"That is it," I replied. - -"It is likely," he said, "to be not very far from Mr. Melladew, -because you and he are friends." - -I added a few words to my letter, desiring my wife to put the desk in -a place of safety; and then, addressing another envelope, I went -down-stairs, bearing both desk and letter. - -"I shall be here when you come back," said Devlin. "Even were I -protean, I shall not change my shape. My word is given." - -On my way to the street-door I encountered Fanny Lemon. - -"Well, sir?" she asked anxiously. - -"I will speak to you presently," I said, and, opening the street-door, -crossed the road to where George Carton and his guardian were -standing. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII. - -I SEND DEVLIN'S DESK TO MY WIFE, AND SMOKE A FRAGRANT CIGAR. - - -"This foolish, headstrong lad will be the death of me," said Mr. -Dowsett in a fretful tone, "and of himself as well." - -"I am neither foolish nor headstrong," retorted the unhappy young man. -"I told you he was in there still, and you told me he had left the -house." - -"I said it for your good," said Mr. Dowsett, "but you will not be -ruled." - -"No, I will not!" exclaimed George Carton violently; and then said -remorsefully, "I beg you to forgive me for speaking so wildly; it is -the height of ingratitude after all your goodness to me. But do you -not see--for God's sake, do you not see--that you are making things -worse instead of better for me by opposing me as you are doing? I will -have my way! I will, whether I am right or wrong!" - -"My poor boy," said Mr. Dowsett, addressing me, "has got it into his -foolish head that you can be of some assistance to him. In heaven's -name, how can you be?" - -"Mr. Dowsett," I said, and the strange experiences of the last few -hours imported, I felt, a solemnity into my voice, "the ends of -justice are sometimes reached by roads we cannot see. It may be so in -this sad instance." - -"There," said George Carton to his guardian, in a tone of melancholy -triumph, "did I not tell you?" - -Mr. Dowsett shrugged his shoulders impatiently, and said, "I declare -that if I did not love my ward with a love as sincere and perfect as -any human being ever felt for another, I would wash my hands of this -business altogether." - -"But why," said Carton, with much affection, "do you torment yourself -about it at all?" - -"It is you I torment myself about," said Mr. Dowsett, "not the -horrible deed. I love you with a father's love, and I cannot leave you -in the state you are." - -George Carton put his arm around his guardian caressingly. "I am not -worth it," he murmured; "I am not worth it; but I cannot act otherwise -than I do. Sir"--to me--"I have lingered here in the hope that you -might have some news to tell me." - -"I have nothing I can communicate to you," I said; "but rest assured -that my interest in the discovery of the murderer is scarcely less -than yours. I have taken up the search, and I will not rest while -there is the shadow of a hope left." - -"I knew it, I knew it," said George Carton. - -"Knowing it, then," I said, "and receiving the assurance from my lips, -will you do me a service, and be guided by my advice?" - -"I will, indeed I will," replied Carton. - -"It is heartbreaking," said Mr. Dowsett mournfully, turning his head, -"to find a stranger's counsel preferred to mine." - -"No, no," cried George Carton, "I declare to you, no! But you would -have me do nothing, and I cannot obey you. I cannot--I cannot sit idly -down, and make no effort in the cause of justice. My dear Lizzie -is dead, and I do not care to live. But I will live for one -thing--revenge!" - -"Be calm," I said, taking the young man's fevered hand, "and listen to -me. I wish you to take this letter and desk to my wife, and deliver -them to her with your own hands. Will you do so?" - -"Yes." - -"You must not part with them under any pretext or persuasion until you -place them in my wife's possession." - -"No one shall touch them till she receives them." - -"You must go at once, for she is anxious about me. I intend to sleep -here to-night. And when you have done what I ask you, I beg you to go -home with your guardian, and have a good night's rest." - -He looked discontented at this, but Mr. Dowsett said, "Be persuaded, -George, be persuaded!" - -"Believe me," I said, speaking very earnestly, "that it will be for -the best." - -"Very well, sir. I will do as you desire. But"--turning to Mr. -Dowsett--"no opiates. If sleep comes to me, it shall come naturally." - -"I promise you, George," said Mr. Dowsett; "and now let us go. Thank -you, sir, thank you a thousand times, for having prevailed upon my -ward to do what is right. Come, George, come." - -He was so anxious to get the young man away that he advanced a few -steps quickly; thus for two or three moments Carton and I were alone. - -"Shall I see you to-morrow, sir," asked Carton. - -"In all probability," I replied; "but do not seek me here. I have your -address, and will either call upon or write to you." - -"Then I am to remain home all day?" - -"Yes. By following my instructions you will be rendering me practical -assistance." - -"Very well, sir. I put all my trust in you." - -"Are you coming, George?" cried Mr. Dowsett, looking back. - -"Yes, I am ready," said the young man, joining his guardian; and -presently they were both out of sight. - -I reëntered the house. Fanny Lemon was still in the passage. - -"Fanny," I said, "I cannot keep long with you, as I have business -up-stairs with Mr. Devlin; but I wish to impress upon you not to speak -to a single soul of what has passed between us to-day. Say nothing to -anybody about Mr. Lemon being ill, and, above all, do not call in a -doctor. Doctors are apt to be inquisitive, and it is of the highest -importance that curiosity shall not be aroused in the minds of the -neighbours. There is nothing radically wrong with Lemon; he has -received a fright, and his nerves are shaken, that is all. Tell him -that I have taken his place with Devlin, and that the partnership is -at an end. That will relieve his mind. Keep him quiet, and give him -nothing to drink but milk or barley water. Lower his system, Fanny, -lower his system." - -"Don't you think it low enough already, sir?" asked Fanny. - -"I do not; he is in a state of dangerous excitement, and everything -must be done to soothe and quiet him. But I have no more time to -waste. You will do as I have told you?" - -"Yes, sir, I'll be careful to. But are you sure he don't want a -doctor? Are you sure he won't die?" - -"Quite sure; and you can tell him, if you like, that _I_ say it is all -right." - -"_Is_ it all right, sir?" - -"If it isn't, I'm going to try to make it so. I shall sleep here -to-night, Fanny." - -"And welcome, sir. We haven't a spare bedroom, but I can make you up a -bed on the sofa in the parlour." - -"I shall not need it. I am going to sleep in Devlin's room, on the -floor." - -She caught my arm with a cry of alarm. "Has he got hold of you, too, -sir? The Lord save us! He's got the lot of us in his claws!" - -"Don't be absurd," I said. "I know what I'm about, and Mr. Devlin will -find me a match for him. No more questions; do as you are bid. If you -have a mattress and some bedclothes to spare, bring them up at once." - -"I won't look at him, sir--I won't speak to him! O, how shall I ever -forgive myself--how shall I ever forgive myself?" - -She threw her apron (which during my absence she had put on over her -faded black silk dress) over her head, and swayed to and fro in the -passage, moaning and groaning in great distress of mind. - -I pulled the apron from her face, and gave her a good shaking by way -of corrective. She ceased her moans. - -"I have no patience with you, Fanny," I exclaimed. "In heaven's name, -what do you want to be forgiven for?" - -"For dragging you into this horrible business, sir," she said, with a -tendency to relapse, which I immediately checked by another shaking. -"That--that devil up-stairs----" - -This time I shook her so soundly that she could not get out another -word for the chattering of her teeth. - -"No more, Fanny," I said roughly, "or you will make me angry. I know -what I am about, and if you don't stop instantly and do exactly as I -bid you, I'll leave you and your Lemon to your fate. Do you hear?" - -The threat terrified her into calmness. - -"I'll bring up the bed-things, sir," she said, with bated breath. - -"And lose no time," I said, as I mounted the stairs. - -"I won't, sir." - -Devlin was smoking when I joined him, and not smoking a pipe, but a -cigar with a most delicious fragrance. - -"Take one," he said, pushing a cigar-case over to me; "you will find -them good. I manufactured them while you were away." - -I bore good-humouredly with his banter, and I took a cigar from the -case, but did not immediately light it. - -"Sent your letter?" he inquired curtly. - -"Yes." - -"And my desk?" - -"Yes." - -"By Lizzie Melladew's sweetheart?" - -"Yes." - -"Not by the other?" - -"No." - -"Do they live together?" - -"Yes." - -"Do you know where?" - -"Yes." - -"Capital!" he said, with the air of a man who had been asking -important instead of trivial questions. "There is a knock at the -door--a frightened, feminine knock. Enter, my dear Mrs. Lemon, enter." - -Fanny Lemon came in, smothered with a mattress, sheets, blankets, and -pillows, and, without uttering a word, proceeded to make the bed on -the floor. - -"You have brought plenty of pillows, Fanny," I remarked. - -"I thought you'd like to lay high, sir," she whispered. - -Devlin broke out into a loud laugh. "Most people do," he said, "while -they live. When they die they all lie low--all of them, all of them!" - -For a moment I thought that Fanny was going to run away, but a look -from me restrained her, and she finished making the bed. - -"Do you wish anything else, sir?" she asked, still in a whisper, and -keeping her back to Devlin. - -"Yes, my charming landlady, yes," replied Devlin, "A large pot of your -exquisite tea. Fly!" - -"Make it, Fanny, and bring it up," I said. - -She flew, and returned with the steaming pot. Surely never was tea so -quickly prepared before. The pot, milk, sugar, and two cups and -saucers were on a tray, which, without raising her eyes, she placed -before me. - -"Here, here," cried Devlin, tapping the table. "Before _me_, my dear -creature! _I_ am the host on this occasion." - -She slid the tray over to him, and he made a motion as if he were -about to place his hand on her. - -"If you lay a finger on me," she exclaimed, beating a hasty retreat -from the table, "I'll scream the house down!" - -"Leave the room," I said sternly; "and call us at seven in the -morning." - -"We shall be here, my dear creature," added Devlin. "You will find -both of us safe and sound, ready to do justice to your excellent -cooking. I have a premonition of a fine appetite for breakfast; cook -me an extra rasher." - -I saw in Fanny's eyes a desire to say a word to me alone. Devlin saw -it too. - -"Humour her," he said, and quoted a line from a comedy. "What is the -use of a friend if you can't make a stranger of him?" - -I followed Fanny into the passage. - -"You've quite made up your mind, sir?" - -"Quite, Fanny." - -"Take this, sir," she said, pushing a hard substance into my hands. -"If anything happens in the night, spring it." - -It was a policeman's rattle. - -"I don't know where Lemon got it from," she said, "but we've had it in -the house for years." - -"Pshaw, Fanny!" I said, forcing the rattle back into her hands. "You -are too ridiculous!" - -Yet when I was once again face to face with Devlin, with the door -locked, I could not help thinking that I was acting a perilous part in -putting myself, as it were, into his power. He might kill me while I -slept. I determined to keep awake, and to lie down in my clothes. - -"Have some tea?" he asked. - -"Thank you," I replied. The tea would assist me in my resolve not to -sleep. - -The teapot being emptied, I lit the cigar Devlin had given me. - -"I owe you an explanation," he said, puffing the smoke from his cigar -into a series of circles. "I take it as a fact that Lemon is suffering -from some kind of prophetic vision in connection with the murder of -Lizzie Melladew in Victoria Park on Friday night." - -"It is so," I said. - -"Part of my explanation lies in the admission that he received that -forewarning from me." - -"Then you knew it was done," I cried. - -"I did not know it. It passed through the mind of a customer whose -hair I was dressing. I do not call that knowing a thing. I am -something of a thought-reader, my dear sir, and I possess a certain -power, under suitable conditions, of conveying my impressions to -another person. That is the extent of my explanation. Excuse me for -making it so brief." - -Never in my life had I smoked a cigar with a fragrance so exquisite. -Not only exquisite, but overpowering. It beguiled my senses, and had -such an effect upon me that the last twenty or thirty words uttered by -Devlin seemed to be spoken at a great distance from me. This sense of -distance affected not only his voice, but himself and all surrounding -things. He and they seemed to recede into space, as it were, not -bounded by the walls of the small apartment in which we were sitting. -I had a dim desire to continue the conversation, and to press Devlin -to be more explicit, but it died away. Everything floated in a mist -around me, and in this state I fell asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII. - -I PASS A MORNING IN DEVLIN'S PLACE OF BUSINESS. - - -Devlin was up and dressed when I awoke in the morning. I had not to go -through the trouble of putting on my clothes, as I had not taken them -off on the previous night. It would not have surprised me to find that -I had unconsciously sought repose in the usual way, or that I had -risen in my sleep to undress; nothing, indeed, would very much have -surprised me, so strange had been my dreaming fancies. Naturally they -all turned upon Devlin and the case upon which I was engaged. I could -easily write a chapter upon them, but I will content myself with -briefly describing one of the strangest of them all. - -I was sitting in a chair, opposite a mirror, in which I saw everything -that was passing in the room. Devlin was standing over me, dressing my -hair. Suddenly I saw a sharp surgical instrument in his hand. - -"That is not a razor," I said, "and I don't want to be shaved." - -"My dear sir," remarked Devlin, with excessive politeness, "what you -want or what you don't want matters little." - -With that he made a straight cut across the top of my head, and laid -bare my brains. I saw them and every little cell in them quite -distinctly. - -"To think," he observed, as he peered into the cavities, "that in this -small compass should abide the passions, the emotions, the meannesses, -the noble aspirations, the sordid desires, the selfish instincts and -the power to resist them, the sense of duty, the conscious deceits, -the lust for power, the grovelling worship, the filthy qualities of -animalism, the secret promptings, and all the motley mental and moral -attributes which make a man! To think that from this small compass -have sprung all that constitutes man's history--religion, ethics, the -rise and fall of nations, music, poetry, law, and science! How grand, -how noble does this man, who represents humankind, think himself! What -works he has executed, what marvels discovered! But if the truth were -known, he is a mere dabbler, who, out of his conceit, magnifies the -smallest of molehills into the largest of mountains. He can build a -bridge, but he cannot make a flower that shall bloom to-day and die -to-morrow. He can destroy, but he cannot create. In the open page of -Nature he makes the most trivial of discoveries, and he straightway -writes himself up in letters of gold and builds monuments in his -honour. The stars mock him; the mountains of snow look loftily down -upon the pigmy; the gossamer fly which his eyes can scarcely see -triumphs over his highest efforts. But he has invented for himself a -supreme shelter for defeat and decay. Dear me, dear me--I cannot find -it!" - -"What are you looking for?" I asked. "Be kind enough to leave my -brains alone." For he was industriously probing them with some -sensitive instrument. - -"I am looking for your grand invention, your soul. I am wondrously -wise, but I have never yet been able to discover its precise -locality." - -After some further search he shut up my head, so to speak, and my -fancies took another direction. - -All these vagaries seemed to be tumbling over each other in my brain -as I rose from my bed on the floor. - -"Had a good night?" asked Devlin. - -"If being asleep," I replied, "means having a good night, I have had -it. But my head is in a whirl, nevertheless." - -"Keep it cool if you can," said Devlin, "for what you have to go -through. You will find water and soap inside." - -He pointed to the little closet adjoining his room, and there I found -all that was necessary for my toilet. I had just finished when Fanny -knocked at the door. - -"It's all right, Fanny," I cried. "You can get breakfast ready." - -"And don't forget," added Devlin, "the extra rasher for me. How is -dear Lemon?" - -That she did not reply and was heard beating a hasty retreat caused a -broad grin to spread over Devlin's face. - -"I have provided," he said, "for that worthy creature something of an -entertaining, not to say enthralling, nature, which she can dilate -upon to the last hour of her life. And yet she is not grateful." - -We went down to breakfast, and there I was afforded an opportunity of -verifying the subtle likeness in Devlin's face to the portrait of -Lemon on the wall, the evil-looking bird in its glass case, and the -stone figure, half monster, half man, on the mantelshelf. - -"There is a likeness," said Devlin pleasantly, "between my works and -me, and if you will attribute me with anything human, you can -attribute it to a common human failing. It springs from the vanity and -the weakness of man that he can evolve only that which is within -himself. Nowhere is that vanity and weakness more conspicuous than in -Genesis, in the very first chapter, my dear sir, where man himself has -had the audacity to write that 'God created man in His own image.' My -dear Mrs. Lemon, you have excelled yourself this morning. This rasher -is perfect, and your cooking of these eggs to the infinitesimal part -of a second is a marvel of art." - -Fanny did not open her lips to him, and the meal passed on in silence -so far as she was concerned. I made a good breakfast, and Devlin -expressed approval of my appetite. - -"It will strengthen you," he said, "for what is before you." - -Fanny looked up in alarm, and Devlin laughed. I may mention that the -first thing I did when I came down-stairs was to run to the nearest -newspaper shop and purchase copies of the morning papers. - -"Is there anything new concerning the murder?" asked Devlin. - -Fanny waited breathlessly for my reply. - -"Nothing," I said. - -"Have any arrests been made?" - -"None." - -"Of course," observed Devlin sarcastically, "the police are on the -track of the murderer." - -"There is something to that effect in the papers." - -"Fudge!" said Devlin. - -Breakfast over, Devlin said he would go up to his room for a few -minutes, and bade me be ready when he came down. Alone with Fanny, she -asked me whether I would like to see Lemon, adding that it would do -him "a power of good." - -"Is he any better?" I asked. - -"I really think he is," she replied. "What I told him last night about -your taking up the case was a comfort to him--though he ain't easy in -his mind about you. He is afraid that Devlin will get hold of you as -he did of him." - -"He will not, Fanny. We shall get along famously together." - -She shook her head. I failed to convince her, as I failed to convince -Mr. Lemon, that I should prove a match for their lodger. Lemon -presented a ludicrous picture, sitting up in bed with an old-fashioned -nightcap on. - -"Don't go with him, sir," he whispered, "to the Twisted Cow." - -"I shall go with him," I said, "wherever he proposes to take me." - -I could not help smiling at Lemon's expression of melancholy as I made -this statement. He dared not give utterance to his fears of what my -ultimate destination would be if I continued to keep company with -Devlin. When that strange personage came down I was ready for him, and -we went out together, Fanny looking after us from the street-door, -shaking, I well knew, in her inward soul. - -Devlin made himself exceedingly pleasant, and the comments he passed -on the people we met excited my admiration and increased my wonder. He -seemed to be able to read their characters in their faces, and -although I would have liked to combat his views I did not venture to -oppose my judgment to his. What struck me particularly was that he saw -the evil in men, not the good. Not once did he give man or woman -credit for the possession of good qualities. All was mean, sordid, -grasping, and selfish. He told me that we should have to walk four -miles to his place of business. - -"I enjoy walking," he said, "and the only riding I care for is on the -top of an omnibus through squalid streets. You get peeps into garrets -and one-room habitations. Gifted with the power of observation, you -can see rare pictures there." - -On our road I stopped at a post-office, and sent a telegram of three -words to my wife: "All is well." - -Our course lay in the direction of Westminster. We crossed the bridge, -and turned down a narrow street. Chapel Street. Half-way down the -street Devlin paused, and said, - -"Behold our establishment." - -It was a poor and common house, and had it not been for a barber's -pole sticking out from the doorway, and a fly-blown cardboard in the -parlour window, on which was written, "Barber and Hairdresser. All -styles. Lowest charges," I should not have supposed that a trade was -carried on therein. As we entered the passage a woman came forward and -handed Devlin a key. He thanked her, unlocked the parlour door, and we -went in. - -The fittings in this room, which I saw at a glance was the shop in -which the shaving and hair-dressing were done, were entirely out of -keeping with the poor tenement in which it was situated. The walls -were lined with fine mirrors; there were three luxurious barber's -chairs; the washstands were of marble; and the appliances for -shampooing perfect. - -"You would hardly expect it," observed Devlin. - -"I would not," I replied. - -"It is my idea," he said. "It rivals the West End establishments, and -for skill I would challenge the world, if I were desirous of courting -publicity. Then, the charges. One-sixth those of Truefit. I shave for -a penny, cut for another penny, shampoo for another. But only those -can be attended to who hold my tickets. I was compelled to adopt this -plan, otherwise I should have been overwhelmed with customers. It -enables me to choose them. When I see a likely man, one who is ripe, -and in whom I discern possibilities which commend themselves to me, I -say, 'Oblige me, sir, by accepting this ticket of admission;' and -having given him a taste of my skill, he comes again. I have quite a -connection." He accompanied these last words with a strange smile. - -"What part do you propose to assign to me in the business?" I asked. - -"A part to which you will not object, that of looker-on. Not from this -room, but that"--pointing to the back room. "The panels of the door, -you will observe, are of ground glass. Sitting within there, you can -see all that passes in this room without being yourself seen. If you -will keep quiet, no one will suspect that you are in hiding." - -"For the life of me," I said, "I cannot guess what good my sitting in -there will do." - -"I do not suppose you can; but learn from me that I do nothing without -a motive. I do not care to be questioned too closely. The promise I -have made to you will be kept if you do not thwart it. You may see -something that will surprise you. I say 'may,' because I have not the -power to entirely rule men's movements. But I think it almost certain -he will pay me a visit this morning." - -"He?" I cried. "Who?" - -"The man whose thoughts I read on Friday with respect to the girl who -was murdered on that night." - -I started. If Devlin spoke the truth, and if the man came to his shop -this morning, I should be in possession of a practical clue which -would lead me to the goal I wished to reach. - -"He comes regularly," continued Devlin, "on Mondays, Wednesdays, and -Fridays. This is his day." - -"Do you know his name?" I inquired, in great excitement. - -"I did not," replied Devlin, "the last time I saw him. How should I -know it now?" - -"Nor where he lives?" - -"Nor where he lives." - -"I must obey you, I suppose," I said. - -"It will be advisable, and you must obey me implicitly. Deviate by a -hair's breadth from what I require of you, and I withdraw my promise, -which now exists in full integrity. Decide." - -"I have decided. I will remain in that room." - -"There is another point upon which I must insist positively. From that -room you do not stir until I bid you; in that room you do not speak -unless you receive a cue from me. Agreed?" - -"Agreed." - -"On your honour?" - -"On my honour." - -"Good. Now you can retire. You will find books in there to amuse you -if you get wearied with your watch." - -He opened the door for me, and closed it upon me. He had spoken -correctly. Through the ground glass I could see everything in the -shop, and I took his word for it that I could not myself be seen. - -Scarcely had a minute passed before a customer entered. Devlin, who, -while he was arguing with me, had taken off his coat, and put on a -linen jacket of spotless white, behaved most decorously. His manner -was deferential without being subservient, respectful without being -familiar. The man was shaved by Devlin, and then his head was brushed -by machinery, which I had forgotten to mention was fixed in the shop. -There was a caressing motion about Devlin's shapely hands which could -not but be agreeable to those who sought his tonsorial aid, and his -conversation, judging from the expression on his customer's face, must -have been amusing and entertaining. The customer took his departure, -and another, appearing as he went out, was duly attended to. This went -on until eleven o'clock by my watch, and nothing had occurred of -especial interest to me. Devlin was kept pretty busy; but, although -his time was fully employed, the business at such prices could not -have been remunerative, especially when it was considered that the -fitting up of the shop must have cost a pretty sum of money, and that -the profits of the concern had to be divided between two persons, Mr. -Lemon and himself. It was not till past eleven that my attention was -more than ordinarily attracted by Devlin's behaviour, the difference -in which perhaps no one except myself would have particularly noticed. -A man of the middle class entered and took his seat. He wore a beard -and moustache; and although I could not hear what he said, he spoke in -so low a tone, I judged correctly that he instructed Devlin to shave -his face bare. Devlin proceeded to obey him, and clipped and cut, and -finally applied his razor until not a vestige of hair was left on the -man's face. That being done, Devlin cut this customer's hair close, -and then used his brushes; and as his hands moved about the man's head -there was, if I may so describe it, a feline, insinuating expression -in them which aroused my curiosity. I thought of the singular dream I -have described, and it appeared to me that all the while Devlin was -employed over his customer the brains of the man sitting so quietly in -the chair were figuratively exposed to his view, and that he was -reading the thoughts which stirred therein. When the man was gone -there was a peculiar smile upon Devlin's face, and I observed that he -laughed quietly to himself. There happened to be no one in the shop to -claim Devlin's attention, and I, who was impatiently waiting for some -sign from Devlin pertinent to the secret purpose to which both he and -I were pledged, expected it to be given now; for the circumstance of -the man having been shaved bare--which so altered his appearance that -I should not otherwise have known that the person who entered the shop -was the same person who left it--was to me so suspicious that in my -anxiety and agitation I connected it with the murder of poor Lizzie -Melladew, arguing that the man had effected this disguise in himself -for the purpose of escaping detection. But Devlin made no sign, and -did not even look towards the glass-door. Other customers coming in, -Devlin was busy again. Twelve o'clock--half-past twelve--one -o'clock-and still no indication of anything in connection with my -task. With a feeling of intense disappointment, and beginning to doubt -whether I had not allowed myself to be duped, I replaced my watch in -my pocket, and had scarcely done so before my heart was beating -violently at the appearance of a gentleman whom I little expected to -see in Devlin's shop. This gentleman was no other than Mr. Kenneth -Dowsett, George Carton's guardian. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV. - -MR. KENNETH DOWSETT GIVES ME THE SLIP. - - -The beating of my heart became normal; I suppose it was the sudden -appearance of a gentleman with whose face I was familiar, after many -hours of suspense, that had caused its pulsations to become so rapid -and violent. There was nothing surprising, after all, in the presence -of Mr. Dowsett in Devlin's shop. His address was in Westminster, -Devlin was an exceptionally fine workman, the accommodation was -luxurious, the charges low. Even I, in my position in life, would be -tempted to deal occasionally with so expert and perfect a barber as -Devlin, at the prices he charged. Then, why not Mr. Kenneth Dowsett? -Besides, he might be of a frugal turn. - -Devlin was not long engaged over him. Mr. Dowsett was shaved; Mr. -Dowsett had his hair brushed by machinery; Mr. Dowsett, moreover, was -very particular as to the arrangement of his hair; and Devlin, I saw, -did his best to please him. But so deft and facile was Devlin that he -did not dally with Mr. Dowsett for longer than five or six minutes. -Mr. Dowsett rose, paid Devlin, exchanged a few smiling words with him, -and taking a final look at himself in the mirrors, turning himself -this way and that, walked out of the shop. Evidently Mr. Dowsett was a -very vain man. - -No sooner was he gone than Devlin locked the shop-door from within, -whipped off his linen jacket, and opened the door of the room in which -I was sitting. I came forward in no amiable mood. - -"You are wearied with your long enforced rest," said Devlin. - -"I am wearied and disgusted," I retorted. "I expected a clue." - -"Have you not received it?" asked Devlin, smiling. - -"Received it!" I echoed. "How? Where?" - -"You have seen my customers, and all that has passed between me and -them." - -"Well?" - -"Well?" he said, mocking me. "Is there not one among them upon whom -your suspicions are fixed? Is there not one among them who could, if -he chose, supply us with a starting-point? I say 'us,' because we are -comrades." - -"Fool, fool, that I was!" I exclaimed, involuntarily raising my hand -to my forehead. "Why did I allow him to escape?" - -"Why did you let whom escape you?" asked Devlin, in a bantering tone. - -"The man whose beard and moustache you shaved off. He must have a -reason, a vital reason, for effecting this disguise in himself. And I -have let him slip through my fingers!" - -"He has a vital reason for so disguising himself," said Devlin, "but -it has no connection with the murder of Lizzie Melladew." - -"Then what do you mean?" I cried, "by asking me whether I have not -received a clue?" - -"Was your attention attracted to no other of my customers than this -man?" - -"There was only one who was known to me--Mr. Kenneth Dowsett." - -"Ah!" said Devlin. "Mr. Kenneth Dowsett." - -A light seemed to dawn suddenly upon me, but the suggestion conveyed -in Devlin's significant tone so amazed me that I could not receive it -unquestioningly. - -"Do you mean to tell me," I cried, "that you suspect Mr. Dowsett of -complicity in this frightful murder?" - -"I mean to tell you nothing of my suspicions," replied Devlin. "It is -for you, not for me, to suspect. It is for you, not for me, to draw -conclusions. What I know positively of Mr. Dowsett--with whose name I -was unacquainted until last evening, when you mentioned it in Lemon's -house--I will tell you, if you wish." - -"Tell me, then." - -"It is short but pregnant. Through Mr. Kenneth Dowsett's mind, as I -shaved him and dressed his hair on Friday last, passed the picture of -a beautiful girl, with golden hair, wearing a bunch of white daisies -in her belt. Through his mind passed a picture of a lake of still -water in Victoria Park. Through his mind passed a vision of blood." - -"Are you a devil," I exclaimed, "that you did not step in to prevent -the deed?" - -"My dear sir," he said, seizing my arm, which I had involuntarily -raised, and holding it as in a vice, "you are unreasonable. I have -never in my life been in Victoria Park, which, I believe, covers a -large space of ground. Why should I elect to pass an intensely -uncomfortable night, wandering about paths in an unknown place, to -interfere in I know not what? Even were I an interested party, it -would be an act of folly, for such a proceeding would lay me open to -suspicion. A nice task you would allot to me when you tacitly declare -that it should be my mission to prevent the commission of human crime! -Then how was I to gauge the precise value of Mr. Dowsett's thoughts? -He might be a dramatist, inventing a sensational plot for a popular -theatre; he might be an author of exciting fiction. Give over your -absurdities, and school yourself into calmer methods. Unless you do -so, you will have small chance of unravelling this mystery. And -consider, my dear sir," he added, making me a mocking bow, "if I am a -devil, how honoured you should be that I accept you as my comrade!" - -The tone in which he spoke was calm and measured; indeed, it had not -escaped my observation that, whether he was inclined to be malignant -or agreeable, insinuating or threatening, he never raised his voice -above a certain pitch. I inwardly acknowledged the wisdom of his -counsel that I should keep my passion in control, and I resolved from -that moment to follow it. - -"You locked the shop-door," I said, "when Mr. Dowsett left you just -now." - -"I did," was his response, "thinking it would be your wish that I -should do no more business to-day." - -"Why should you think that?" - -"Because of what was passing through Mr. Dowsett's mind." - -"I ask you to pardon me for my display of passion. What was Mr. -Dowsett thinking of?" - -"Of two very simple matters," said Devlin; "the time of day and an -address. The time was fifteen minutes past three, the address, 28 -Athelstan Road." - -"Nothing more?" I inquired, much puzzled. - -"Nothing more." - -I pondered a moment; I could draw no immediate conclusion from -material so bare. I asked Devlin what he could make of it; he replied, -politely, that it was for me, not for him, to make what I could of it. -A suggestion presented itself. - -"At fifteen minutes past three," I said, "Mr. Dowsett has an -appointment with some person at 28 Athelstan Road." - -"Possibly," said Devlin. - -"Have you a 'London Directory'?" - -"I have not; nor, I imagine, will you easily find one in this -neighbourhood." - -"A simpler plan," I said, "perhaps will be to go to Mr. Dowsett's -house, to which he has most likely returned, and set watch there for -him, keeping ourselves well out of sight. It is now twenty minutes -past one; we can reach his house in ten minutes. He will hardly leave -it for his appointment till two, or a little past. We will follow him -secretly, and ascertain whom he is going to see, and his purpose. I am -determined now to adopt bold measures. Behind this frightful mystery -there is another, which shall be brought to light. You will accompany -me?" - -"I am at your orders," said Devlin. - -We left the house together, and in the time I specified were within a -few yards of Mr. Dowsett's residence. Aware of the importance of not -attracting attention, I looked about for a means of escaping -observation. Nearly opposite Mr. Dowsett's dwelling was a -public-house, in the first-floor window of which I saw a placard, -"Billiards. Pool." I concluded that it was the window of a -billiard-room, and without hesitation I entered the public-house, -followed by Devlin, and mounted the stairs. The room, as I supposed, -contained a billiard-table; the marker, a very pale and very thin -youth, was practising the spot stroke. - -"Billiards, sir?" he asked, as we entered. - -"Yes," I said, "we wish to play a private game. How much an hour?" - -"Eighteenpence." - -"Here are five shillings," I said, "for a couple of hours. We shall -not want you to mark. Don't let us be disturbed." - -The pale thin youth took the money, laid down his cue, and left us to -ourselves. When he was gone I placed a chair at an angle against the -handle of the door, there being no key in the lock, and thus prevented -the entrance of any person without notice. It was the leisure time of -the day, and there was little fear of our being disturbed. The extra -gratuity I had given to the marker would insure privacy. As I took my -station at the window, from which Mr. Dowsett's house was in full -view, Devlin nodded approval of my proceedings. - -"You are a man of resource," he said. "I perceive that you intend -henceforth to act sensibly." - -Minute after minute passed, and there was no sign of any person -leaving or entering Mr. Dowsett's house. Every now and then I -consulted my watch. Two o'clock--a quarter-past two--half-past. I -began to grow impatient, but, to please Devlin, did not exhibit it. -Perfect silence reigned between us; we exchanged not a word. - -Time waned, and now I more frequently looked at my watch, the hands of -which were drawing on to three. They reached the hour and passed it. A -quarter-past three. - -Perplexed and disappointed, I debated on my next move. I soon decided -what it should be. I had promised Richard Carton that I would call -upon him. I would do so now. If Mr. Dowsett was at home, all the -better. - -I made Devlin acquainted with my resolve, and he said, - -"Very good; I will go with you." - -Removing the chair I had placed against the handle of the door, we -went from the public-house and crossed the road. I knocked at Mr. -Dowsett's door, and a maidservant answered the summons. - -"Does Mr. Kenneth Dowsett live here?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Is he at home?" - -"No, sir." - -"Is Mr. Richard Carton in?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Give him my card, and say I wish to see him." - -"Will you please walk this way, sir?" said the maidservant. - -She ushered us into the dining-room, where she left us alone while she -went to apprise Richard Carton of my visit. The room was exceedingly -well furnished. Good pictures were on the walls, and there was a -tasteful arrangement of bric-a-brac and bronzes. I had no time for -further observation, the entrance of Richard Carton claiming my -attention. - -"Ah!" he exclaimed, "you have come. I was beginning to be afraid you -would disappoint me." - -"You delivered my letter to my wife?" I asked. - -"Yes, and the desk. My guardian wanted to persuade me to leave it till -this morning, but I would not." - -"You were quite right." - -He looked towards Devlin. - -"A friend," I said, waving my hand as a kind of introduction, "who may -be of assistance to us." - -"But introduce us plainly," expostulated Devlin. - -"Mr. Devlin," I said, "Mr. Richard Carton." - -They shook hands, and then Carton inquired whether I had anything to -tell him. - -"Nothing tangible," I replied, "but we are on the road." - -"Yes," repeated Devlin, "we are on the road." - -"Excuse me for asking," said Carton to Devlin, "but are you a -detective?" - -"In a spiritual way," said Devlin. - -Carton's mind was too deeply occupied with the one supreme subject of -the murder to ask for an explanation of this enigmatical reply. He -turned towards me. - -"Is your guardian in?" I inquired. - -"No," said Carton. - -What should I say next? It would have been folly to make Richard -Carton a participant in the strange revelations which were directing -my proceedings. - -"Can you tell me," I asked, "where Athelstan Road is?" - -"It is in Margate," he replied, in a tone of surprise, "and the number -is 28." - -It was my turn now to exhibit surprise. "No. 28!" I exclaimed. "Who -lives there?" - -"I don't know. Mrs. Dowsett and Letitia went to Margate by an early -train on Saturday morning, before I was awake, and my guardian has -gone there to see them. I should have proposed to go with him had it -not been for my determination not to leave London till this dreadful -mystery was cleared up; and then there was the promise you made me -give you last night, that I should remain here all the day till you -came to see me." - -"When did your guardian go to Margate?" I asked. - -"He has gone from Victoria," replied Carton, glancing at a marble -clock on the mantelshelf, "by the Granville train. It starts at -fifteen minutes past three." - -I also glanced at the clock. It was just half-past three, a quarter of -an hour past the time! - - - - -CHAPTER XXV. - -WE FOLLOW IN PURSUIT. - - -Carton, noticing my discomposure, inquired if there was anything -wrong. I answered, yes; I was afraid there was something very wrong. - -"In connection with the fate of my poor girl?" he asked. - -"Yes," I replied, "in connection with her fate." - -"Great heavens!" he cried. "You surely do not suspect that my guardian -is mixed up with it?" - -"I am of the opinion," I answered guardedly, "that he may be able to -throw some light on it. Mr. Carton, ask me no further questions, or -you may seriously hamper me. Have you a time-table in the house? No? -Then we must obtain one immediately. It is my purpose to follow your -guardian to Margate by the quickest and earliest train. I give you -five minutes to get ready." - -Greatly excited, he darted from the room, and in half the time I had -named returned, with a small bag, into which he had thrust a few -articles of clothing. During his absence I said to Devlin, - -"You will accompany us?" - -"My dear sir," he replied, "I will go with you to the ends of the -earth. I shall greatly enjoy this pursuit; the vigour and spirit you -are putting into it are worthy of the highest admiration." - -We three went out together, and at the first book-shop I purchased an -"A B C," and ascertained that the next best train to Margate was the -5.15 from Victoria, which was timed to arrive at 7.31. Calculating -that it would be a few minutes late, we could, no doubt, reach -Athelstan Road at half-past eight. I had time to run home to my wife, -and embrace her and my children; it was necessary, also, that I should -furnish myself with funds, there being very little money in my purse, -and I determined to use the one hundred pounds which Mr. Portland had -left with me. Employed as I was, the use of this money was -justifiable. Hailing a hansom, we jumped into it. Carton sitting on -Devlin's knee, and we soon reached my house. In as few words as -possible I explained to my wife all that was necessary, kissed her and -the children, took possession of the hundred pounds and of a light bag -in which my wife had put a change of clothing, left a private message -for Mr. Portland, and rejoined Devlin and Carton, who were waiting for -me in the hansom. I asked my wife but two questions--the first, how -Mr. and Mrs. Melladew were, the second, whether anything had been -heard of the missing daughter Mary. She told me that the unhappy -parents were completely prostrated by the blow, and that no news -whatever had been heard of Mary. - -We arrived at Victoria Station in good time, and, by the aid of a -judicious tip, I secured a first-class compartment, into which the -guard assured me no one should be admitted. I had a distinct reason -for desiring this privacy. There were subjects upon which I wished to -talk with Richard Carton, and I could not carry on the conversation in -the presence of strangers. I said nothing to him of this in the cab, -the noise of the wheels making conversation difficult. We should be -two hours and a half getting to Margate, and on the journey I could -obtain all the information I desired. We started promptly to the -minute, and then I requested Carton to give me his best attention. He -and I sat next to each other, Devlin sitting in the opposite corner. -He threw himself back, and closed his eyes, but I knew that he heard -every word that passed between me and Carton. - -"I am going to ask you a series of questions," I said to the young -man, "not one of which shall be asked from idle curiosity. Answer me -as directly to the point as you can. Explain how it is that Mr. -Kenneth Dowsett is your guardian." - -"I lost both my parents," replied Carton, "when I was very young. Of -my mother I have no remembrance whatever; of my father, but little. He -and Mr. Dowsett were upon the most intimate terms of friendship; my -father had such confidence in him that when he drew his will he named -Mr. Dowsett as his executor and my guardian. I was to live with him -and his wife, and he was to see to my education. He has faithfully -fulfilled the trust my father reposed in him." - -"Did your father leave a large fortune?" - -"Roughly speaking, I am worth two thousand pounds a year." - -"Mr. Dowsett, having to receive you in his house as a son and to look -after your education, doubtless was in receipt of a fair consideration -for his services?" - -"O, yes. Until I was twenty-one years of age he was to draw six -hundred pounds a year out of the funds invested for me. The balance -accumulated for my benefit until I came of age." - -"He drew this money regularly?" - -"Yes, as he was entitled to do." - -"How old are you now?" - -"Twenty-four." - -"You are living still with Mr. Dowsett, and you still regard him as -your guardian?" - -"I have a great affection for him; he has treated me most kindly." - -"What do you pay him for your board and lodging?" - -"He continues to receive the six hundred a year. It is all he has to -depend on." - -"Was this last arrangement of his own proposing, or yours?" - -"Of mine. I cannot sufficiently repay him for his care of me." - -"In your father's will what was to become of your fortune in the event -of your death?" - -"If I died before I came of age, my guardian was to have the six -hundred a year, and the rest was to be given to various charities." - -"And after you came of age?" - -"It was mine absolutely, to do as I pleased with." - -"Have you made a will?" - -"Yes." - -"Who proposed that?" - -"My guardian." - -"What are the terms of this will?" - -"I have left everything to him. I have no relatives, and no other -claims upon me." - -"When I came to see you this afternoon you mentioned a name which was -new to me. You said that your guardian had gone to Margate with his -wife and 'Letitia.' I supposed he was married, and your speaking of -Mrs. Dowsett did not surprise me. But who is Letitia?" - -"Their daughter." - -"An only child?" - -"Yes." - -"What is her age?" - -"Twenty-two." - -"Has she a sweetheart? Is she engaged to be married?" - -"No." - -"That answer seems to me to be given with constraint." - -"Well," said Carton, "it is hardly right, is it, to go so minutely -into my guardian's private family affairs?" - -"It is entirely right. I am engaged upon a very solemn task, and I can -see, probably, what is hidden from you. Why were you partly -disinclined to answer my last question?" - -"It is a little awkward," replied Carton, "because, perhaps, I am not -quite free from blame." - -"Explain your meaning. Believe me, this may be more serious than you -imagine. Speak frankly. I am acting, indeed, as your true friend." - -"Yet, after all," said Carton, with hesitation, "I never made love to -her, I give you my honour." - -"Made love to whom? Miss Dowsett?" - -"Yes. The fact is they looked upon it as a settled thing that I was to -marry Letitia. I did not know it at the time; no, though we were -living in the same house for so many years, I never suspected it. I -always looked upon Letitia as a sister, and I behaved affectionately -towards her. They must have put a wrong construction upon it. When -they discovered that I was in love with my poor Lizzie, Mr. Dowsett -said to me, 'It will break Letitia's heart.' Then I began to -understand, and I assure you I felt remorseful. Letitia did not say -anything to me, but I could see by her looks how deeply she was -wounded. Once my guardian made the remark, 'That if I had not met the -young lady'--meaning Lizzie--'his most joyful hope would have been -realised,' meaning by that that when I saw that Letitia loved me I -might have grown to love her, and we should have been married. I said, -I remember, that it might have been, for he seemed to expect something -like that from me, and I said it to console him. But it was not true; -I could never have loved Letitia except as a sister." - -"Did your guardian know the name of the poor girl you have lost?" - -"O, yes. He met us first when we were walking together, and I -introduced him. We had almost a quarrel, my guardian and I, some time -afterwards. He said that Miss Melladew was beneath me, and that it -would be better if I married in my own station in life. I was hurt and -angry, and I begged him to retract his words. Beneath me! She was as -far above me as the highest lady in the land could have been. She was -the best, the brightest, the purest girl in the world. And I have lost -her! I have lost her! What hope is there left to me now?" - -He covered his face with his hands, and I waited till he was calm -before I spoke again. - -"In my hearing," I then said, "you have twice made a remark which -struck me as strange. It was to the effect that you would not allow -your guardian to give you any more opiates." - -"He gave me one last Friday night before I went to bed--on the night -my poor Lizzie was killed. I was excited, because I think I told you, -sir, that it was decided between Lizzie and me that I should go to her -father's house on Sunday, to ask permission to pay my addresses openly -to her. Till then I was not to see her again, and that made me -restless. My guardian was anxious about me, though he did not know the -cause of my restlessness and excitement. To please him I took the -opiate, and slept soundly till late in the morning; and when I woke, -sir--when I woke and went out to buy a present for Lizzie, which I -intended to take to Lizzie on Sunday, almost the first thing I -heard----" - -He quite broke down here, and a considerable time elapsed before he -was sufficiently recovered to continue the conversation. - -"Supposing," I said, "that this dreadful event had not occurred, and -that you and poor Lizzie had been happily married, would you have -continued to give your guardian the income he had enjoyed so long?" - -"I do not know--I cannot say. Perhaps not; although I never considered -the question. But on the day that I left his house for the home I -dreamt and hoped would be mine, the home in which Lizzie and I would -have lived happily together. I should have given him something -handsome, and I am sure I should always have been his friend. I ought -not, perhaps, now that we have gone so far, to conceal anything from -you." - -"Indeed you ought not. Tell me everything; it may help me." - -"I am sure," said the young fellow, with deep feeling, "that he did -not mean it, and that he said it only to comfort me. But it made me -mad. He hinted that my poor Lizzie could not have been true to me, -that she must have had another lover, whom she was in the habit of -meeting late at night. If any other man had dared to say as much I -would have killed him. But my guardian meant no harm, and when he saw -how he had wounded me, he begged my pardon humbly. I am sure, I am -sure he repented that he had breathed a suspicion against my poor -girl!" - -"Pardon me," I said, "for asking you a question which, in any other -circumstances, would not cross my lips; but it will be as well for me -to put it to you. You yourself had no appointment with her on that -night?" - -"No," cried Carton indignantly, "as Heaven is my judge! I never met -her, I never proposed to meet her, at such an hour!" - -"I am certain of it. And yet--receive this calmly, if you can--and yet -she must have gone out late on that night for some purpose or other." - -"There is the mystery," said Carton mournfully, "and I have thought -and thought about it without being able to find a key to it. There -must have been a trap set for her--a devilish trap to ensnare her." - -"I think so myself. Otherwise it is not likely she would have left her -home, as she must have done, secretly. Now, a word or two about Mrs. -Dowsett and Letitia." - -"When you woke up on Saturday morning you found that they had gone to -Margate?" - -"Yes." - -"Did you know on the day before that they were going?" - -"No, nothing was said about it. It was quite sudden." - -"Was Mrs. Dowsett or her daughter ill? Did they go into the country -for their health?" - -"Not to my knowledge." - -"Were they in the habit of going away suddenly?" - -"O, no; they had never done so before." - -"What explanation did your guardian give?" - -"He said that Letitia had been suffering in secret for some time, and -that her mother thought a change would do her good." - -"Did he tell you where they had gone to?" - -"No, he did not mention the place. I learnt it from one of the -servants." - -"So that afterwards he was forced to be frank with you?" - -"I don't understand you." - -"Reflect. When you rose on Saturday morning you found that Mrs. -Dowsett and her daughter had gone away suddenly. You knew nothing at -that moment of poor Lizzie's death, and therefore had nothing to -trouble you. Did it not strike you as strange that your guardian did -not mention the part of the country they had gone to? Or if, your mind -being greatly occupied with the arranged interview with Mr. and Mrs. -Melladew on the following day, you did not then think it strange that -your guardian said nothing of Margate--do you not think so now?" - -"Yes," answered Carton thoughtfully, "I do think so now." - -"How did you learn that Mrs. Dowsett was stopping at 28 Athelstan -Road?" - -"By accident. My guardian opened a letter this morning, and a piece of -paper dropped from it. I picked it up, and as I gave it to him I saw -28 Athelstan Road written on it. 'Is that where Mrs. Dowsett and -Letitia are stopping?' I asked; and he answered, 'Yes.'" - -"So that it was not directly through him that you learnt the address?" - -"No; but I don't see that it is of any importance." - -It was not my cue to enter into an argument, therefore I did not reply -to this remark. I had gained from Carton information which, lightly as -he regarded it, I deemed of the highest importance. There was, -however, still something more which I desired to speak of, but which I -scarcely knew how to approach. After a little reflection I made a bold -plunge. - -"Is your fortune under your own control?" - -"Yes." - -"Do you keep a large balance at your bank?" - -"Pretty fair; but just now it does not amount to much. Still, if you -want any----" - -"I do not want any. Am I right in conjecturing that there is a special -reason for your balance being small just now?" - -"There _is_ a special reason. On Saturday morning, before I left home, -I drew a large cheque----" - -"Which you gave to your guardian." - -"How do you know that?" asked Carton, in a tone of surprise. - -"It was but a guess. What was the amount of the cheque?" - -"Two thousand pounds." - -"Payable to 'order' or 'bearer'?" - -"To 'bearer.' It was for two investments which Mr. Dowsett -recommended. That was the reason for the cheque being made payable to -'bearer,' to enable my guardian to pay it to two different firms. He -said both the investments would turn out splendidly, but it matters -very little to me now whether they do or not. All the money in the -world will not bring happiness to me now that my poor Lizzie is dead." - -"Do you know whether your guardian cashed the cheque?" - -"I do not; I haven't asked him anything about it. I could think only -of one thing." - -"I can well imagine it. Thank you for answering my questions so -clearly. By and by you may know why I asked them." - -These words had hardly passed my lips before Devlin, Carton, and I -were thrown violently against each other. The shock was great, but -fortunately we were not hurt. Screams of pain from adjoining carriages -proclaimed that this was not the case with other passengers. The train -was dragged with erratic force for a considerable distance, and then -came to a sudden standstill. - -"We had best get out," said Devlin, who was the first to recover. - -We followed the sensible advice, and, upon emerging from the carriage, -discovered that other carriages were overturned, and that the line was -blocked. Happily, despite the screams of the frightened passengers, -the injuries they had met with were slight, and when all were safely -got out we stood along the line, gazing helplessly at each other. -Devlin, however, was an exception; he was the only perfectly composed -person amongst us. - -"It is unfortunate," he said, with a certain maliciousness in his -voice; "we are not half-way to Margate. The best laid schemes are -liable to come to grief. If Mr. Kenneth Dowsett knew of this, he would -rejoice." - -It was with intense anxiety that I made inquiries of the guard whether -the accident would delay us long. The guard answered that he could not -say yet, but that to all appearance we should be delayed two or three -hours. I received this information with dismay. It would upon that -calculation be midnight before we reached our destination. I -considered time so precious that I would have given every shilling in -my pocket to have been at that moment in Margate. - -"Take it philosophically," said Devlin, at my elbow, "and be thankful -that your bones are not broken. It will but prolong the hunt, which, I -promise you, shall in the end be successful." - -I looked at him almost gratefully for this speculative crumb of -comfort, and there was real humour in the smile with which he met my -gaze. - -"Behold me in another character," he said; "Devlin the Consoler. But -you have laid me under an obligation, my dear sir, which I am -endeavouring to repay. Your conversation with that unhappy young -man"--pointing to Carton, who stood at a little distance from us--"was -truly interesting. You have mistaken your vocation; you would have -made a first-class detective." - -To add to the discomfiture of the situation it began to rain heavily. -I felt it would be foolish, and a waste of power, to fret and fume, -and I therefore endeavoured to profit by Devlin's advice to take it -philosophically. A number of men were now at work setting things -straight. They worked with a will, but the guard's prognostication -proved correct. It was nearly eleven o'clock before we started again, -and past midnight when we arrived at Margate. It was pitch dark, and -the furious wind drove the pelting rain into our faces. - -"A wild night at sea," cried Devlin, with a kind of exultation in his -voice (though this may have been my fancy); he had to speak very loud -to make himself heard. "You can do nothing till the morning, and very -little then if the storm lasts. Do you know Margate at all?" - -"No," I shouted despondently. - -"Do you?" asked Devlin, addressing Carton. - -"I've never been here before," replied Carton. - -"There's a decent hotel not far off," said Devlin: "the Nayland Rock. -We'll knock them up, and get beds there. Cling tight to me if you -don't want your bones broken. Steady now, steady!" - -We had to cling tightly to him, for we could not see a yard before us. -Devlin pulled us along, singing some strange wild song at the top of -his voice. We were a long time making those in the hotel hear us, but -the door was opened at last, and we were admitted. There was only one -vacant room in the hotel, but fortunately it contained two beds. To -this room we were conducted, and then came the question of settling -three persons in the two beds. Devlin solved the difficulty by pulling -the counterpanes off, and extending himself full length upon the -floor. - -"This will do for me," he said, wrapping himself up in the -counterpanes. "I've had worse accommodation in my travels through the -world. I've slept in the bush, with the sky for a roof; I've slept in -the hollow of a tree, with wild beasts howling round me; I've slept on -billiard-tables and under them, with a thousand rats running over me -and a score of other wanderers. Good-night, comrades." - -Anxiety did not keep me awake; I was tired out, and slept well. When -we arose in the morning all signs of the storm had fled. The sun was -shining brightly, and a soft warm air flowed through the open window. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI. - -ANOTHER STRANGE AND UNEXPECTED DISCOVERY. - - -The first thing to be done, after partaking of a hurried breakfast, -was to arrange our programme. Carton suggested that we should all go -together to Athelstan Road to see his guardian, and I had some -difficulty in prevailing upon him to forego this plan. We spoke -together quite openly in the presence of Devlin, who, for the most -part, contented himself with listening to the discussion. - -"Evidently," said Carton, "you have suspicions against my guardian, -and it is only fair that he should be made acquainted with them." - -"He shall be made acquainted with them," I replied, "but it must be in -the way and at the time I deem best. I hold you to your promise to be -guided by me." - -Carton nodded discontentedly. "I am to stop here and do nothing, I -suppose," he said. - -"That is how you will best assist me," I said. "If you are seen at -present by Mr. Dowsett, you will ruin everything. You shall not, -however, be quite idle. Have you your cheque-book with you?" - -"Yes," he said, producing it. - -"Let me look at the block of the cheque for the two thousand pounds -you drew on Saturday morning, payable to bearer, and gave to Mr. -Dowsett." - -"It is the last cheque I drew," said Carton, handing me the book. - -I glanced at it, saw that the bank was the National Provincial Bank of -England, and the number of the cheque 134,178. Then I obtained a -telegraph form, and at my instruction Carton wrote the following -telegram: - -"To the Manager, National Provincial Bank of England, 112 Bishopsgate -Street, London. Has my cheque for two thousand pounds (No. 134,178), -drawn by me on Saturday, and made payable to bearer, been cashed, and -how was it paid, in notes or gold? Reply paid. Urgent. Waiting here -for answer. From Richard Carton, Nayland Rock Hotel, Margate." - -"I will take this myself to the telegraph-office," I said, "and you -will wait here for the answer. I will be back as quickly as possible, -but it is likely I may be absent for an hour or more." - -With that I left him, Devlin accompanying me at my request. - -I could have sent the telegram from the railway station, but I chose -to send it from the local post-office, for the reason that I expected -to receive there a telegram from my wife, whom I had instructed to -wire to me, before eight o'clock, whether there was anything fresh in -the London newspapers concerning the murder of Lizzie Melladew. I -mentioned this to Devlin, and he said, - -"You omit nothing; it is a pleasure to work with you. Command me in -any way you please. My turn, perhaps, will come by and by." - -It was early morning, and our way lay along the Marine Parade, every -house in which was either a public or a boarding house. From every -basement in the row, as we walked on, ascended one uniform odour of -the cooking of bacon and eggs, which caused Devlin to humorously -remark that when bacon and eggs ceased to be the breakfast of the -average Englishman, the decay of England's greatness would commence. -All along the line this familiar odour accompanied us. - -At the post-office I found my wife's telegram awaiting me. It was to -the effect that there was nothing new in the papers concerning the -murder. The criminal was still at large, and the police appeared to -have failed in obtaining a clue. I despatched Carton's telegram to the -London bank, and then we proceeded to Athelstan Road, and soon found -the house we were in search of. I had decided upon my plan of -operations: Devlin was not to appear; he was to stand at some distance -from the house, and only to come forward if I called him. I was to -knock and inquire for Mr. Dowsett, and explain to him that, not -feeling well, I had run down to Margate for the day. Carton had given -me his guardian's address, and had asked me to inquire whether Mr. -Dowsett would be absent from London for any length of time, intending, -if such was the case, to join Mr. Dowsett and his family in the -country. Then I was to trust to chance and to anything I observed how -next to proceed. The whole invention was as lame as well could be, but -I could not think of a better. It was only when decided action was -necessary that I felt how powerless I was. All that I had to depend -upon was a slender and mysterious thread of conjecture. - -I knocked at the door, and of the servant who opened it I inquired if -Mr. Dowsett was up yet. - -"O, yes, sir," replied the girl. "Up and gone, all of 'em." - -"Up and gone, all of them!" I exclaimed. - -"Yes, sir. Had breakfast at half-past six, and went away directly -afterwards." - -"Do you know where to?" - -"No, sir. O, here's missus." - -The landlady came forward. "Do you want rooms, sir?" - -"Not at present. I came to see Mr. Dowsett." - -"Gone away, sir; him and the three ladies." - -"So your servant informed me; but I thought I should be certain to -find him here. Stop. What did you say? Mr. Dowsett and the three -ladies? You mean the two ladies?" - -"I mean three," said the landlady, looking sharply at me. "They only -came on Saturday; Mr. Dowsett came yesterday. You must excuse me, sir; -there's the dining-room bell and the drawing-room bell ringing all -together." - -"A moment, I beg," I said, slipping half-a-crown into her hand. "Do -you know where they have gone to?" - -"No; they didn't tell me. They were in a hurry to catch a train; but I -don't know what train, and don't know where to." - -Her manner proclaimed that she not only did not know, but did not -care. - -"They had some boxes with them?" I said. - -"Yes, two. I can't wait another minute. I never did see such a -impatient gentleman as the dining-rooms." - -"Only one more question," I said, forcibly detaining her. "Did they -drive to the station?" - -"Yes; they had a carriage. Please let me go, sir." - -"Do you know the man who drove them? Do you know the number of the -carriage?" - -"Haven't the slightest idea," said the landlady; and, freeing herself -from my grasp, she ran down to her kitchen. - -I stepped into the street with a feeling of mortification. Mr. Kenneth -Dowsett had given me the slip again. Rejoining Devlin, I related to -him what had passed. - -"What are you going to do next?" he asked. - -"I am puzzled," I replied, "and hardly know what to do." - -"That is not like you," said Devlin. "Come, I will assist you. Mr. -Kenneth Dowsett seems to be in a hurry. The more reason for spirit and -increased vigilance on our part. Observe, I say our part. I am growing -interested in this case, and am curious to see the end of it. If Mr. -Dowsett has gone back to London, we must follow him there. If he has -gone to some other place, we must follow him to some other place." - -"But how to find that out?" - -"He was driven to the station in a carriage. We must get hold of -the driver. At present we are ignorant whether he has gone by the -South-Eastern or the London, Chatham, and Dover. We will go and -inquire at the cab-ranks." - -But although we spent fully an hour and a half in asking questions of -every driver of a carriage we saw, we could ascertain no news of the -carriage which had driven Mr. Dowsett and his family from Athelstan -Road. I was in despair, and was about to give up the search and return -disconsolately to the Nayland Rock, when a bare-footed boy ran up to -me, and asked whether I wasn't looking for "the cove wot drove a party -from Athelstan Road." - -"Yes," I said excitedly. "Do you know him?" - -"O, I knows him," said the boy. "Bill Foster he is. I 'elped him up -with the boxes. There was one little box the gent wouldn't let us -touch. There was somethink 'eavy in it, and the gent give me a copper. -Thank yer, sir." - -He was about to scuttle off with the sixpence I gave him, when I -seized him, not by the collar, because he had none on, but by the neck -where the collar should have been. - -"Not so fast. There's half-a-crown more for you if you take me to Bill -Foster at once." - -"Can't do that, sir; don't know where he is; but I'll find 'im for -yer." - -"Very good. How many persons went away in Bill Foster's carriage?" - -"There was the gent and one-two-three women--two young 'uns and a old -'un." - -"You're quite sure?" - -"I'll take my oath on it." - -"Now look here? Do you see these five shillings? They're yours -if you bring Bill Foster to me at the Nayland Rock in less than -half-an-hour." - -"You ain't kidding, sir?" - -"Not at all. The money's yours if you do what I tell you." - -"All right, sir? I'll do it." - -"And tell Bill Foster there's half-a-sovereign waiting for him at the -Nayland Rock; but he mustn't lose a minute." - -With an intelligent nod the boy scampered off, and we made our way -quickly back to the hotel, where Richard Carton was impatiently -waiting us. - -"Did you see him?" he asked eagerly. - -"No," I replied, "he went away early this morning." - -"Where to?" - -"I hope to learn that presently. Have you received an answer to your -telegram?" - -"No, not yet. There's the telegraph messenger." - -The lad was mounting the steps of the hotel. We followed him, and -obtained the buff-coloured envelope, addressed to "Richard Carton, -Nayland Rock Hotel, Margate," which he delivered to a waiter. Carton -tore open the envelope, read the message, and handed it to me. The -information it contained was that cheque 134,178, for two thousand -pounds, signed by Richard Carton, was cashed across the counter on -Saturday morning; that the gentleman who presented it demanded that it -should be paid in gold; that as this was a large amount to be so paid -the cashier had asked the gentleman to sign his name at the back of -the cheque, notwithstanding that it was payable to bearer, and that -the signature was that of Kenneth Dowsett. - -"Do you think there is anything strange in that?" I asked. - -"It does seem strange," replied Carton thoughtfully. - -I made a rapid mental calculation, and said, "Two thousand sovereigns -in gold weigh forty pounds. A heavy weight for a man to carry away -with him." Carton did not reply, but I saw that, for the first time, -his suspicions were aroused. "You told me," I continued, "that Mrs. -Dowsett and her daughter Letitia went away from their house on -Saturday morning early." - -"So my guardian informed me." - -"Was any other lady stopping with them?" - -"I did not understand so from my guardian." - -"Did they have any particular lady friend whom, for some reason or -other, they wished to take with them to the seaside?" - -"Not to my knowledge." - -"You can think of no one?" - -"Indeed, I cannot." - -"It is your belief that only two ladies left the house?' - -"Yes, it is my belief." - -"But," I said, "Mrs. Dowsett took not only her daughter Letitia with -her, but another lady, a young lady, as well; and the three, in -company with your guardian, left Margate suddenly this morning. I have -ascertained this positively. Now, who is this young lady of whom you -have no knowledge?" He passed his hand across his forehead, and gazed -at me with a dawning terror in his eyes. "Shall I tell you what is in -my mind?" - -"Yes." - -"If," I said, speaking slowly and impressively, "the theory I have -formed is correct--and I believe it is--the young lady is Mary -Melladew, poor Lizzie's sister." - -"Good God!" cried Carton. "What makes you think that?" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII. - -WE TRACK MR. KENNETH DOWSETT TO BOULOGNE. - - -"It would occupy too long a time," I replied, "to make my theory -thoroughly comprehensible to you. Besides," I added, glancing at -Devlin, "it is a theory strangely born and strangely built up, and, in -all likelihood, you would reject the most important parts of it as -incredible and impossible. Therefore, we will not waste time in -explaining or discussing it. Sufficient for us if we succeed in -tracing this dreadful mystery to its roots and in bringing the -murderer to justice. If I do not mistake, here comes the man I am -waiting for." - -It was, indeed. Bill Foster, pioneered by the sharp lad who had -engaged to find him. - -"Here he is, sir," said the boy, holding out his hand, half-eagerly, -half-doubtfully. - -"Your name is Foster," I said, addressing the man. - -"That's me," said Bill Foster. - -"You drove a party from Athelstan Road early this morning?" - -"Yes." - -I counted five shillings into the boy's outstretched hand, and he -scampered away in great delight. - -"There's half-a-sovereign for you," I said to Bill Foster, "if you -answer correctly a few questions." - -"About the party I drove from Athelstan Road?" he asked. - -"My questions will refer to them. You seem to hesitate." - -"The fact is," said Bill Foster, "the gentleman gave me a florin over -my fare to keep my mouth shut." - -"Only a fifth of what I offer you," I said. - -"Make it a sovereign," suggested Devlin. - -"I've no objection," I said. - -"All right," said Bill Foster; "fire away." - -"The gentleman bribed you to keep silence respecting his movements?" I -asked. - -"It must have been for that," replied Bill Foster. - -"Proving," I observed, "that he must have had some strong reason for -secrecy." - -"That's got nothing to do with me," remarked Bill Foster. - -"Of course not. What you've got to do is to earn the sovereign. Who -engaged you for the job?" - -"The gentleman himself. I wasn't out with my trap so early, and some -one must have told him where I live. Anyways, he comes at a -quarter-past six, and knocks me up, and says there's a good job -waiting for me at 28 Athelstan Road, if I'd come at once. I says, 'All -right,' and I puts my horse to, and drives there. I got to the house -at ten minutes to seven, and I drives the party to the London, -Chatham, and Dover." - -"How many were in the party?" - -"Four. The gentleman, a middle-aged lady, and two young 'uns." - -"About what ages were the young ladies?" - -"Can't quite say. They wore veils; but I should reckon from eighteen -to twenty-two. That's near enough." - -"What luggage was there?" - -"Two trunks, a small box, and some other little things they took care -of themselves." - -"You had charge of the two trunks?" - -"Yes." - -"And of the small box?" - -"O, no; the gentleman wouldn't let it out of his hands. I offered to -help him with it, but he wouldn't let me touch it." - -"That surprised you?" - -"Well, yes, because it was uncommon heavy. If it was filled with gold -he couldn't have been more careful of it." - -"Perhaps it was," I said, turning slightly to Richard Carton. - -"It was heavy enough. Why, he could hardly carry it." - -"Did either of the ladies appear anxious about it?" - -"Yes, the middle-aged one. When I saw them so particular, I said, said -I--to myself, you know--I shouldn't mind having that myself." - -"When the gentleman told you to drive to the London, Chatham, and -Dover station, did he say what train he wished to catch?" - -"No, but I found out the train they went by. It was the down train for -Ramsgate, 7.31." - -"They reached the station some time before it started?" - -"Yes, twenty minutes before. After the gentleman took his tickets he -came from the platform two or three times and looked at me. 'What are -you waiting for?' he asked the last time. 'For a fare,' I answered. -'Look here,' he said, 'if anybody asks you any questions about me, -don't answer them. 'Why shouldn't I?' I asked. It was then he pulled -out the florin. 'O, very well,' I said; 'it's no business of mine.' -But I didn't go away till the train started with them in it." - -"Do you know whether they intended to stop in Margate?" - -"I should say not. As I drove 'em to the station, I heard the -gentleman speak to the middle-aged lady--his wife, I suppose--about -the boat for Boulogne." - -I gave a start of vexation; Devlin smiled; Carton was following the -conversation with great attention. - -"Do you know what boat?" - -"The Sir Walter Raleigh. The gentleman had one of the bills in his -hand, and was looking at it. He said to the lady, 'We shall be in -plenty of time.'" - -"Do you know at what time the boat starts from Ramsgate for Boulogne?" - -"Leaves the harbour at half-past nine, but is generally half an hour -late." - -I looked at my watch. It was just eleven o'clock. - -"Is there any chance," I asked, "of this boat being delayed?" - -"Why should it? The weather's fair." - -"Is there any other boat starting for Boulogne this morning?" - -"None. There's the Sir Walter Raleigh from Ramsgate, and sometimes the -India from here; but the India don't go to-day." - -"Could we hire a boat from here?" - -"You might, but it would be risky, and would cost a lot of money. -Then, there's no saying when you would get there. It's a matter of -between forty and fifty miles, and the steamers take about five hours -getting across; sometimes a little less, generally a little more. -There's no depending upon 'em. Look here. You're going to behave to me -liberal. You want to follow the party I drove from Athelstan Road this -morning." - -"Show me the way to get to Boulogne to-day," I said, "and I'll give -you another half-sovereign." - -"Practical creature!" murmured Devlin. "In human dealings there is but -one true touchstone." - -"Spoke like a real gentleman," said Bill Foster to me. "What time is -it?" - -"Five minutes past eleven." - -"Wait here; I sha'n't be gone but a few minutes. Get everything ready -to start directly I come back." - -His trap was standing at the corner of Royal Crescent. He ran out, -jumped on the box, and was gone. I called to the waiter, and in three -minutes the hotel bill was paid, and we were ready. - -During Bill Foster's absence I said to Carton, - -"Do you make anything of all this?" - -"It looks," replied Carton, "as if my guardian was running away." - -"To my mind there's not a doubt of it. Have you any idea what that -little box he would not let out of his charge contains?" - -"The two thousand sovereigns he obtained from the bank," said Carton, -in a tone of inquiry. - -"Exactly. I tell you now plainly that I am positive Mr. Kenneth -Dowsett is implicated in the murder of your poor girl." - -Carton set his teeth in great agitation. "If he is! if he is!" he -said; but he could say no more. - -Bill Foster was back. - -"There's a train to Folkestone," he cried, "the South-Eastern line, at -11.47. You can catch it easily. If there's no boat handy from -Folkestone to Boulogne, you'll be able to hire one there. The steamers -take two hours going across. You can get there in four. Train arrives -at Folkestone at 1.27. By six o'clock you can be in Boulogne. Jump -into my trap, gentlemen." - -We jumped in, and were driven to the station. His information was -correct. I gave him thirty shillings, and he departed in high glee. -Then we took tickets for Folkestone, and arrived there at a quarter to -two. - -There was no steamer going, but with little difficulty we arranged to -get across. The passage took longer than four hours--it took six. At -nine o'clock at night we were in Boulogne. - -I cannot speak an intelligible sentence in French. Carton was too -agitated to take the direction of affairs. - -"Do you know where we can stop?" I asked of Devlin. "Have you ever -been here before?" - -"My dear sir," said Devlin, "I have travelled all over the world, and -I know Boulogne by heart. There's a little out-of-the-way hotel, the -Hôtel de Poilly, in Rue de l'Amiral Bruix, that will suit us as though -it were built for us." - -"Let us get there at once," I said. - -He called a fly, and in a very short time we entered the courtyard of -the Hotel de Poilly. There we made arrangements with the jolly, -comfortable-looking landlady, and then I looked at Carton, and he -looked at me. The helplessness of our situation struck us both -forcibly. - -"Who is in command?" asked Devlin suddenly. - -"You," I replied, as by an inspiration. - -"Good," said Devlin. "I accept the office. From this moment you are -under my orders. Remain you here; I go to reconnoitre." - -"You will return?" I said. - -"My dear sir," said Devlin airily, "it is too late now to doubt my -integrity. I will return." - -"For God's sake," said Carton, when Devlin was gone, "who is this man -who seems to divine everything, to know everything, and whom nothing -disturbs? Sometimes when he looks at me I feel that he is exercising -over me a terrible fascination." - -"I cannot answer you," I said. "Be satisfied with the knowledge that -it is through him we have so far succeeded, and that, in my belief, it -will be through him that the murderer will be tracked down. The world -is full of mysteries, and that man is not the least of them." - -It wanted an hour to midnight when Devlin returned. In his inscrutable -face I read no sign of success or failure; but the first words he -spoke afforded me infinite relief. - -"I have seen him," he said. "Let us go out and talk. Walls have ears." - -The river Liane was but a short distance from the hotel, and we -strolled along the bank in silence, Devlin, contrary to my -expectation, not uttering a word for many minutes. He had lit a cigar, -and Carton had accepted one from him; I refused to smoke, having too -vivid a remembrance of the cigar I had smoked in Fanny Lemon's house, -and its effect upon me. At length Devlin said to Carton: - -"You appear sleepy." - -"I am," said the young man. - -"You had best go to bed," said Devlin; "nothing can be done to-night." - -Carton, assenting, would have returned to the hotel alone, saying he -could find the way, but I insisted that we should accompany him -thither. I had heard that Boulogne was not the safest place in the -world for strangers on a dark night. Having seen Carton to his room, -we returned to the river's bank. Had Carton been in possession of his -full senses he would doubtless have objected, but he was dead asleep -when he entered his bedroom, Devlin's cigar having affected him as the -one I smoked had affected me. - -"He encumbers us," said Devlin, looking out upon the dark river. "I -have discovered where Mr. Dowsett is lodging, and were our young -friend informed of the address he might rush there, and spoil all. We -happen to be in luck, if you believe in such a quality as luck. I do -not; but I use the term out of compliment to you. Mr. Dowsett's -quarters are in the locality of the Rue de la Paix, and, singularly -enough, are situated over a barber's shop. Things go in runs, do they -not? Nothing but barbers. I do not return with you to the hotel -to-night." - -"What do you mean?" I asked, startled by this information. - -"The proprietor of the barber's shop over which Mr. Kenneth Dowsett is -sleeping--but, perhaps, not sleeping, for a sword is hanging above his -head, and he may be gazing at the phantom in terror--say, then, over -which he is lying, is an agreeable person. I have struck up an -acquaintance with him, and, by arrangement, shall be in his saloon -to-morrow, to attend to any persons who may present themselves. Mr. -Dowsett will probably need the razor and the brush. I can easily -account for my appearance in Boulogne; I have come to see my friend -and brother. Mr. Dowsett, unsuspecting--for what connection can he -trace between me and Lizzie Melladew?--will place himself in my hands. -He has told me that there is not my equal; he may find that it is so. -In order that I may not miss him I go to the house to-night. Early in -the morning come you, alone, to the Rue de la Paix. You can ride to -the foot of the hill, there alight, and on the right-hand side, a -third of the way up, you will see my new friend's establishment. I -will find you a snug corner from which you may observe and hear, -yourself unseen, all that passes. Are you satisfied now that I am -keeping faith with you?" - -"Indeed, you are proving it," I replied. - -"Give me no more credit than I deserve," said Devlin. "It is simply -that I keep a promise. In the fulfilment of this promise--both in the -spirit and to the letter, my dear sir--I may to-morrow unfold to you a -wonder. It is my purpose to compel the man we have pursued to himself -reveal all that he knows of Lizzie Melladew. Perhaps it will be as -well for you to take down in writing what passes between us. Accept it -from me that there are unseen forces and unseen powers in this world, -so rich in sin, of which few men dream. See those shadows moving on -the water--are they not like living spirits? The dark river itself, -had it a tongue, could appal you. On such nights as this are secret -crimes committed by devils who bear the shape of men. What kind of -being is that who smiles in your face, who presses your hand, who -speaks pleasant words to you, and harbours all the while in what is -called his heart a fell design towards the execution of which he moves -without one spark of compassion? I don't complain of him, my dear sir; -on the contrary"--and here, although I could not see Devlin's face, I -could fancy a sinister smile overspreading it--"I rather delight in -him. It proves him to be what he is--and he is but a type of -innumerable others. Your innocent ones are arrogant in the vaunting of -their goodness; your ambitious ones glory in their successes which -bring ruin to their brethren; your kings and emperors appropriate -Providence, and do not even pay him a shilling for the conscription. A -grand world, and grandly peopled! The man who glories in sin compels -my admiration; but this one whom we are hunting is a coward and a -sneak. He shall meet his doom!" - -As he ceased speaking he vanished; I can find no other word to express -the effect his sudden disappearance had upon me. Whether he intended -to create a dramatic surprise I cannot say, but, certainly, he was no -longer by my side. With some difficulty I found my way alone back to -the Hotel de Poilly, where Carton was fast asleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII. - -THE TRANCE AND THE REVELATION. - - -Of all the strange experiences I have narrated in connection with -Devlin, that which awaited me on the following morning was the most -startling and inexplicable. Prevailing with difficulty upon Richard -Carton to remain at the hotel until I either came to or sent for him, -I drove to the foot of the Rue de la Paix, as I was instructed to do. -I took the precaution to hire the driver of the fly by the hour, and -desired him to stop where I alighted until I needed him. I was -impelled to this course by a feeling that I might possibly require -some person to take a message to Carton or bring him to the Rue de la -Paix. I found the barber's shop easily, and could scarcely refrain -from uttering a loud exclamation at the sight of Mr. Kenneth Dowsett -sitting in a barber's chair, and Devlin standing over him, leisurely -at work. Devlin, with his finger at his lips, pointed to a table in a -corner of the shop, at which I seated myself in obedience to the -silent command. On the table were writing materials and paper, and on -a sheet of this paper was written: "You are late. I have thrown Mr. -Dowsett into a trance. He will reveal all he knows. I will compel him -to do so. Take down in writing what transpires." - -My heart throbbed violently as I prepared myself for the task. - -Devlin: "Do you know where you are?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "Yes, in Boulogne." - -Devlin: "Where were you yesterday?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "In Margate." - -Devlin: "Where were you on Friday last?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "At home, in London." - -Devlin: "Recall the occurrences of that day?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I do so." - -Devlin: "At what hour did you rise?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "At nine o'clock." - -Devlin: "Who were present at the breakfast-table?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "My wife and daughter, and Richard Carton." - -Devlin: "Was anything relating to the engagement of Richard Carton and -Lizzie Melladew said at the breakfast-table?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "Nothing." - -Devlin: "Was there anything in your mind in relation to it?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "Yes. I had a plan to carry out, and was thinking of it." - -Devlin: "In what way did you put the plan into execution?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "When breakfast was over, I went to my private room and -locked the door. Then I sat down and wrote a letter." - -Devlin: "To whom?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "To Lizzie Melladew." - -Devlin: "What did you write?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "A heart-broken woman implores you to meet her to-night -at eleven o'clock in Victoria Park, and, so that she may recognise -you, begs you to wear a bunch of white daisies in your belt. She will -wear the same, so that you may recognise her. The life and welfare of -Mr. Richard Carton hangs upon this meeting. If you fail, a dreadful -fate awaits him, which you can avert. As you value his happiness and -your own, come." - -Devlin: "What did you do with the letter?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I addressed it to Miss Lizzie Melladew, at her place of -business in Baker Street, and posted it at the Charing Cross -Post-office." - -Devlin: "How did you know she worked there?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I learnt it from my ward, Richard Carton." - -Devlin: "Did you disguise your handwriting?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "Yes; I wrote it in a feminine hand." - -Devlin: "What was your object in writing the letter?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I was determined that Richard Carton should not marry -Lizzie Melladew." - -Devlin: "Why?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I had all along arranged that he should marry my -daughter Letitia." - -Devlin: "How did you propose to break off the match between your ward -and Lizzie Melladew?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "My plans were not entirely clear to myself. I intended -to appeal to the young woman, and to invent some disreputable story to -make her suspect that he was false to her. If that failed, then----" - -Devlin: "Proceed. Then?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I was resolved to go any lengths, to do anything to -prevent the marriage." - -Devlin: "Even murder." - -Mr. Dowsett: "I did not think of that--I would not think of it." - -Devlin: "But you did think of it. You could not banish that idea from -your mind?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I could not, though I tried. It crept in the whole of -the day. I could not help seeing the scene. Night--the park--the young -woman with the bunch of white daisies in her belt stained with blood." - -Devlin: "Those pictures were in your mind, and you could not banish -them?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I could not." - -Devlin: "There were other reasons for preventing the marriage than -your wish that Richard Carton should marry your daughter?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "There were." - -Devlin: "What were they?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "If he married Lizzie Melladew, I should no longer enjoy -the income I had received for so many years. I looked upon it as mine. -I could not live without it. We should have been beggared--disgraced -as well. I had forged my ward's name to bills, and if he married out -of my family there would have been exposure, and I might have found -myself in a felon's dock. If he married my daughter this would not -occur. I was safe so long as I could keep my hold upon him." - -Devlin: "Did your wife and daughter know this?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "My daughter knew nothing of it. My wife suspected it." - -Devlin: "Did she know that you contemplated murder?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "She did not." - -Devlin: "Why did you give Richard Carton a sleeping draught on that -night?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "In order that he might sleep soundly, and not discover -that I left the house late." - -Devlin: "Were your wife and daughter asleep when you left your house?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "They were abed. I do not know whether they were asleep." - -Devlin: "You took a knife with you?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I did." - -Devlin: "Where did you obtain it?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "It was a large clasp knife I had had for years. I found -it in a private drawer." - -Devlin: "You went to the private drawer for the purpose of finding -it?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I did." - -Devlin: "Did any one see you leave the house?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "No one." - -Devlin: "Did you walk or ride to Victoria Park?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I walked." - -Devlin: "To avoid suspicion?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "Yes." - -Devlin: "When you arrived at the Park did you have any difficulty in -finding Miss Melladew?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I soon found her." - -Devlin: "What did you do then?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I made an appeal to her." - -Devlin: "Did she listen to you quietly?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "No. She taunted me with having tricked her by writing an -anonymous letter in a disguised hand." - -Devlin: "Go on." - -Mr. Dowsett: "I told her it was the only way I could obtain a private -interview with her. I invented a scandalous story about my ward. She -said she did not believe it, and that she would expose me to him. She -told me that I was infamous, and that it was her belief I had been -systematically practising deceit upon my ward, and that she would not -be surprised to discover that I had been robbing him. 'To-morrow he -shall see you in your true colours,' she said. I was maddened. If she -carried out her intention I knew that I was a ruined and disgraced -man. 'That to-morrow will never come!' I cried. The knife was in my -hand. I scarcely know how it came there, and do not remember opening -the blade. 'That to-morrow will come!' she retorted. 'It shall not!' I -cried; and I stabbed her to the heart. She uttered but one cry, and -fell down dead." - -Devlin: "What did you do after that?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I hastened away, taking the knife with me. I chose the -darkest paths. Suddenly I came upon a young woman sitting upon a -bench, reclining against the back. I saw her face, and was rooted to -the spot in sudden fear. She did not stir. Recovering, I crept softly -towards her, and found that she was asleep. Leaving her there, I -hastened back to the woman I had stabbed. I knelt down and looked -closely at her. I felt in her pockets; she was quite dead. There were -letters in her pockets which I examined, and then--and then----" - -Devlin: "And then?" - -Mr. Dowsett: "I discovered that the woman I had killed was not Lizzie -Melladew!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX. - -THE RESCUE. - - -So startled was I by this revelation that I jumped to my feet in a -state of uncontrollable agitation. What I should have done I cannot -say, but the direction of events was not left in my hands. -Simultaneously with my movement of astonishment, a piercing scream -rang through the house. - -I was standing now by the chair in which Mr. Kenneth Dowsett was -sitting in his trance, and I observed a change pass over his face; the -scream had pierced the veil in which his waking senses were -enshrouded. Devlin also observed this change, and he said to me -hurriedly: - -"Go up-stairs and see what is taking place. Your presence may be -needed there, and to one person may be very welcome. I will keep -charge over this man." - -As I left the room I heard Devlin turn the key in the lock. Rapidly I -mounted the stairs, and dashed into a room on the first landing, from -which the sound of female voices were issuing. Three women were there; -two were strangers to me, but even in that agitating moment I -correctly divined that they were Mrs. Dowsett and Letitia; the third, -who rushed with convulsive sobs into my open arms, was no other than -Lizzie Melladew herself. - -"O, thank God, you have come!" she sobbed; "thank God! thank God! -Where is Mary? Where is Richard? Take me to them! O, take me to them!" - -Mrs. Dowsett was the first to recover herself. "You will remain here," -she said sternly to Lizzie; and then, addressing me, "How dare you -break into my apartment in this manner?" - -"I dare do more than that," I replied, in a voice sterner than her -own, and holding the weeping girl close to my heart. "Prepare you to -answer for what has been done. I thank God, indeed, that I have -arrived in time, perhaps, to prevent another crime. All is -discovered." - -At these words Mrs. Dowsett shrank back, white and trembling. I did -not stop to say more. My first duty was to place Lizzie Melladew in -safety; but where? The mental question conveyed its own answer. Where, -but in her lover's arms? - -"Come," I said to Lizzie. "You are safe now. I am going to take you to -Richard Carton. Trust yourself to me." - -"I will, I will!" sobbed Lizzie, "Richard is here, then? How thankful -I am, how thankful! And Mary, my dear sister, is she here, too?" - -I was appalled at this last question. It proved that Lizzie was -ignorant of what had occurred. Not daring to answer her, I drew her -from the room, and the women I left there made no attempt to prevent -me. Swiftly I took my precious charge from the house, and in a very -few minutes we were in the carriage which was waiting for me at the -foot of the Rue de la Paix. The driver understood the direction I gave -him, and we galloped at full speed to the Hotel de Poilly. Without -revealing to Lizzie what I knew, I learnt from her before we reached -the hotel sufficient to enlighten me as to Mr. Kenneth Dowsett's -proceedings, and to confirm my suspicion that it was Mary Melladew who -had met her death at that villain's hands. When Lizzie received the -anonymous letter which he wrote to her, she took it to her poor -sister, who, fearing some plot, prevailed upon her to let her see the -anonymous writer in Lizzie's place; and, the better to carry out the -plan, the sisters changed dresses, and went together to Victoria Park. -Being twins, and bearing so close a resemblance to each other, there -was little fear of the change being discovered until at least Mary had -ascertained why the meeting was so urgently desired. Leaving Lizzie in -a secluded part of the park, Mary proceeded to the rendezvous, with -what result Mr. Dowsett's confession has already made clear. -Discovering the fatal error he had committed, Mr. Dowsett returned to -Lizzie, who, while waiting for her sister, had fallen asleep. Being -thoroughly unnerved, he decided that there was only one means of -safety before him--flight and the concealment of Lizzie Melladew. The -idea of a second murder may have occurred to him, but, villain as he -was, he had not the courage to carry it out. He had taken from the -dead girl's pocket everything it contained, with the exception of a -handkerchief which, in his haste, he overlooked; and upon this -handkerchief was marked the name of Lizzie Melladew. He could imitate -Richard Carton's writing--as was proved by the forgeries he had -already committed--and upon the back of this anonymous letter he wrote -in pencil a few words in which Lizzie was implored to trust herself -implicitly to Mr. Dowsett, and without question to do as he directed. -Signing these words in Richard Carton's name, he awoke Lizzie and gave -her the note. Alarmed and agitated as the young girl was, and fearing -that some great danger threatened her lover, she, with very little -hesitation, allowed herself to be persuaded by Mr. Dowsett, and -accompanied him home. "Where is Mary?" she asked. "With our dear -Richard," replied Mr. Dowsett; "we shall see them to-morrow, when all -will be explained." At home Mr. Dowsett informed his wife of his -peril, and the three females left for Margate by an early train in the -morning. In Margate Mrs. Dowsett received telegrams signed "Richard -Carton," but really sent by her husband, which she showed to Lizzie, -and which served in some measure to assist the successful continuation -of the scheme by which Lizzie was to be taken out of the country. -Meanwhile she was in absolute ignorance of her sister's fate; no -newspaper was allowed to reach her hands, nor was she allowed to speak -to a soul but Mrs. Dowsett and Letitia. What was eventually to be done -with her I cannot say; probably Mr. Dowsett himself had not been able -to make up his mind, which was almost entirely occupied by -considerations for his own safety. - -I did not, of course, learn all this from Lizzie, she being then -ignorant of much which I have related, but I have put together what -she told me and what I subsequently learnt from Devlin and other -sources. - -Arriving at the Hotel de Poilly, I succeeded in conveying Lizzie into -a private room, and then I sought Richard Carton. I need not set down -here in detail the conversation I had with him. Little by little I -made him acquainted with the whole truth. Needless to describe his joy -when he heard that his beloved girl was alive and safe--joy, tempered -with grief at poor Mary's fate. When he was calm enough to be -practical, he asked me what was to be done. - -"No time must be lost," I said, "in restoring your dear Lizzie to her -parents. To you I shall confide her. Leave that monster, your -treacherous guardian, to Devlin and me." - -It was with difficulty I restrained him from rushing to Lizzie, but I -insisted that his movements must be definitely decided upon before he -saw her. I called in the assistance of the jolly landlady, and she -supplied me with a time-table, from which I ascertained that a boat -for Dover left at 12.31, and that it was timed to reach its -destination at 3.20. There were numerous trains from Dover to London, -and Lizzie would be in her parents' arms before night. Carton joyfully -acquiesced in this arrangement, and then I took him in to his dear -girl, and, closing the door upon them, left them to themselves. A -meeting such as theirs, and under such circumstances, was sacred. - -While they were together I wrote two letters--one to my wife, and the -other to Mr. Portland--which I intended should be delivered by Carton. -I did not intrude upon the happy lovers till the last moment. I found -them sitting close together, quite silent, hand clasped in hand, her -head upon his breast. I had cautioned him to say nothing of Mary's sad -fate, and I saw by the expression upon Lizzie's face that he had -obeyed me. After joy would come sorrow; there was time enough for -that. Mary had given her life for her sister's; the sacrifice would -ever be held in sacred remembrance. - -I saw them off by the boat; they waved their handkerchiefs to me, and -I thought of the Melladews mourning at home, to whom, at least, one -dear child would soon be restored. When the boat was out of sight, I -jumped into the carriage, and was driven back to the Rue de la Paix. - - - - -CHAPTER XXX. - -DEVLIN'S LAST SCHEME. - - -I tried the door of the room in which I had left Devlin and Mr. -Kenneth Dowsett. It was locked. - -"Enter," said Devlin, unlocking the door. - -They were both in the room, Devlin smiling and unruffled, Mr. Dowsett -in the full possession of his senses, and terribly ill at ease. - -He turned like death when he saw me. - -"This gentleman," said Devlin, "is angry at being detained by me, and -would have resorted to violence if he thought it would serve his -purpose. I have waited for your return to decide what to do." - -"You shall pay for this," Mr. Dowsett managed to say, "you and your -confederate. If there is justice in this world, I will make you smart -for your unlawful proceedings." - -"There _is_ justice in the world," I said calmly, "as you shall find." - -He was silent. With a weight of guilt upon his soul, he did not know -how to reply to this remark. But he managed presently to ask: - -"How long do you intend to detain me?" - -"You shall know soon," I said; and, by a gesture, I intimated to -Devlin that I wished to confer with him alone. - -He accompanied me from the room, and we stood in the passage, keeping -guard upon the door, which Devlin locked from the outside. - -"There are no means of escape from within," he said. "I have seen to -that." - -In a low tone I told him what I had done, and he approved. - -"The question now is," I said, "what step are we next to take?" - -"There lies the difficulty," replied Devlin. "You see my dear sir, we -have no evidence upon which to arrest him." - -"No evidence!" I cried. "Is there not his own confession of guilt?" - -Devlin shook his head. "Spiritual evidence only, my dear sir. Not -admissible in any court of law in the world. Impossible to obtain his -arrest in a foreign country upon such a slender thread. He might bring -the same accusation against us, and we might all be thrown into gaol, -and kept there for months. That is not what I bargained for. Our best -plan will be to get him back to England; then you can take some -practicable step." - -"But how to manage that?" I asked. - -"It can be managed, I think," said Devlin. "I have a scheme. He knows -nothing of the confession he has made. Lizzie Melladew's name has not -been mentioned between us. It is only his fears and my strength of -will that make him tractable. Before I put my scheme into operation, -go up-stairs to see if his wife and daughter are in the house. I have -my suspicions that they have flown. You will find me here when you -come down." - -I ran up-stairs to the apartments occupied by Mrs. Dowsett. Devlin's -suspicions were confirmed. The two women were gone. There were -evidences around of a hasty flight, the most pregnant of them being a -small box which had been broken open. I judged immediately that this -was the box which had contained the two thousand sovereigns; and, -indeed, I found two of the sovereigns under a couch, whither they had -rolled while the bulk was being taken out. The conclusion I came to -was, that the women, frightened that all was discovered, as I had -informed them, had broken open the box, and, packing the gold away -upon their persons, had taken to flight, leaving Mr. Dowsett to his -fate. - -I went down to Devlin, and acquainted him with the result of my -investigation. - -"Quite as I expected," he said. "Let them go for the present. Our -concern is with the man inside. I am going to put my scheme into -operation. What is the time?" - -"Five minutes past two," I replied, looking at my watch. - -"In capital time," said Devlin. "Wait you here until half-past two. -Then go in to Mr. Dowsett, and apologise to him for the indignity to -which he has been subjected. He will fume and threaten; let him. Be -you humble and contrite, and say that you are very, very sorry. Throw -all the blame upon me: say that I have deceived you, imposed upon you, -robbed you--anything that comes to your mind. To me it matters not; it -will assist our scheme. There is no fear of Mr. Dowsett not waiting -till you go in to him; he is frightened out of his life. Your humble -attitude will give him courage; he will think himself safe." - -"I cannot imagine," I said, "how this will help us." - -"Don't imagine," said Devlin curtly. "Leave all to me. The first thing -Mr. Dowsett will do when he finds himself free will be to go up to the -rooms in which he left the three women who accompanied him here. -Meanwhile, you will keep watch outside the house; but on no account -must he see you. Trust to me for the rest." - -He had served me so faithfully up to this point that I trusted him -unhesitatingly. As he had prophesied, Mr. Dowsett kept quiet within -the room. Listening at the door, I heard him moving softly about, but -he made no attempt to come out. At half-past two I entered the room, -and followed Devlin's instructions to the letter. Mr. Dowsett, his -courage restored, immediately began to bluster and threaten. I -listened submissively, and made pretence of being greatly distressed. -When he had exhausted himself, I left him with further profuse -expressions of regret, and as I issued from the house I saw him -mounting the stairs to his wife's apartments. - -Emerging into the Rue de la Paix, I planted myself in a spot from -which I had a clear view of the house, and was myself concealed from -observation. Scarcely was I settled in my position when I saw a man, -with a telegram in his hand, enter the house. He remained there a very -few moments, and then came out and walked away, having, presumably, -delivered his message. Within a space of five minutes, Mr. Dowsett, -holding the telegram, came forth, and, casting sharp glances around, -quickly left the Rue de la Paix. Before he had turned the corner, -Devlin joined me, humming a French song. Together we followed Mr. -Dowsett at a safe distance. - -"My scheme is alive," he said. - -I asked him to explain it to me. - -"You saw the messenger," he said, "enter with a telegram. You saw him -leave without it. You saw Mr. Dowsett come out with the telegram. It -was from his wife." - -"From his wife?" - -"Sent by me. The telegram was to the effect that something had -occurred which had induced her to leave Boulogne immediately, and that -she, her daughter, and the young lady with them (I was careful not to -mention her name, you see) would be in Ramsgate, waiting for him. He -was to come by the afternoon boat, and she would meet him on the pier. -See, he is entering the shipping-office now, to secure his passage." - -"What are we to do?" - -"We travel in the same boat, going aboard at the last moment. After -the boat has started--not before--he will know that we are -fellow-passengers." - -All happened as Devlin had arranged. By his skilful pioneering we did -not lose sight of Mr. Dowsett until he stepped aboard the boat, and I -inferred from his manner that by that time he had regained confidence, -and deemed his secret safe. When we slipped on deck, at the very -moment of starting, Mr. Dowsett was below in the saloon. - -There were not many passengers, and the French coast was still in view -when Mr. Dowsett came up from the saloon and stood by the bulwarks, -within a yard or two of the seat upon which we were sitting. We did -not speak, but sat watching him. Turning, he saw us. - -"You here!" he cried. - -"By your leave," I replied. - -"Not by my leave," he said. "Why are you following me?" - -"Have you any reason," I said, "for suspecting that you are being -followed?" - -"I was a fool to ask the question," he said, turning abruptly away. - -I did not speak, but kept my eyes upon him. I was determined not to -lose sight of him for another moment. Some understanding of this -determination seemed to dawn upon him; he looked at me two or three -times with wavering eyes, and presently, summoning all his courage to -his aid, he stared me full in the face. I met his gaze sternly, -unflinchingly, until I compelled him to lower his eyes. Then he -suddenly went down into the saloon. I stepped swiftly after him, and -Devlin accompanied me. For the purpose of testing me, he turned and -ascended again to the deck. We followed him. - -"Perhaps," he said, "you will explain what you mean by this conduct?" - -"What need to ask?" I replied. "Let your conscience answer." - -"It is an outrage," he said, after a pause. "If you continue to annoy -me, I shall appeal to the captain." - -"Do so," I said, "and prepare to meet at once the charge I shall bring -against you." - -He did not dare to inquire the nature of the charge. He did not dare -to move or speak again. Sullenly, and with an inward raging, the -traces of which he could not disguise, he remained by the bulwarks, -staring down at the water. - -Suddenly there was a lull aboard. The machinery stopped working. - -"Some accident," said Devlin, and went to ascertain its nature. -Returning, he said, "We shall be delayed a couple of hours, most -likely. It will be dark night, when we arrive." - -It was as he said. For two hours or more we made no progress; then, -the necessary repairs having been made, we started again. By that time -it was evening. And still Mr. Dowsett neither moved or spoke. - -Night crept on; there was no moon, and not a star visible in the dark -sky; it was black night. Mr. Dowsett strove to take advantage of this -to evade and escape from us, but we kept so close to him that we could -have touched him by the movement of a finger; where he glided, we -glided; and still he uttered not a word. - -We stood in a group alone, isolated as it were, from the other -passengers. After repeated attempts to slip from us, Mr. Dowsett -remained still again. In the midst of the darkness Devlin's voice -stole upon our ears. - -"Short-sighted fool," he said, "to think that crime can be for ever -successfully hidden. Wherever man moves, the spirit of committed evil -accompanies him, and leads him to his doom. His peril lies not only in -mortal insight, but in the unseen, mysterious agencies, by which he is -surrounded. Blood for blood; it is the immutable law; and if by some -human failure he for a time evades his punishment at the hand of man, -he suffers a punishment more terrible than human justice can execute -upon him. Waking or sleeping, it is ever with him. Look out upon the -darkness, and behold, rising from the shadows, the form of the -innocent girl whose life you took. To the last moment of your life her -spirit shall accompany you; till death claims you, you shall know no -peace!" - -Whatever of malignancy there was in Devlin's voice, the words he spoke -conveyed the stern, eternal truth. It seemed to me, as I gazed before -me, that the spirit he evoked loomed sadly among the shadows. - -Onward through the sea the boat ploughed its way, and we three stood -close together, encompassed by a dread and awful silence; for Devlin -spoke no more, nor from Mr. Dowsett's lips did any sound issue. - -In the distance we saw the lights of Ramsgate Pier, and before the -captain or any person on board was aware of its close contiguity, we -suddenly dashed against it. - -I and all others on board were thrown violently down by the shock. -There were loud cries of alarm and agony, and I found myself separated -from my companions. From the water came appeals for help from some who -had been tossed overboard by the collision, and a period of great -confusion ensued. What help could be given was afforded, and when I -succeeded in reaching the stone pier in safety, I heard that a few of -the passengers were missing--among them Devlin and Mr. Dowsett. - -I remained on the pier till past one o'clock in the morning, rendering -what little assistance I could; and eventually I learnt that all who -had been in danger were saved, with the exception of the two whom I -have named. It was early morning before the body of one was recovered. -That one was Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. He lay dead in a boat, his face -convulsed with agony, upturned to the gray light of the coming day. Of -Devlin no trace could be found. - - -* * * * * * - - -There is but little more to tell. With the exception of the part which -Devlin played in it, and which has now for the first time been -related, the story became public property, and Kenneth Dowsett was -proved to be the murderer of poor Mary Melladew. Time has softened the -grief of Mr. and Mrs. Melladew, and they find in the love of Lizzie -and her husband, Richard Carton, some solace for the tragedy which a -ruthless hand committed. Mr. Portland paid me the two thousand pounds -he promised, and I am in a fair way of business. Fanny Lemon and her -husband live in retirement in the country. Not a word ever passes -their lips in connection with the events I have related. I have seen -and heard nothing of Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter. - - -* * * * * * - - -A short time ago my wife and I were in an open-air public place of -amusement witnessing a wonderful exhibition, the extraordinary novelty -of which consisted in a man floating earthwards from the clouds at a -distance of some thousands of feet from the earth. - -"Look there!" said my wife. - -I had given her such faithful and vivid descriptions of Devlin that -she always said, if it happened that he still lived and she saw him, -that she could not fail to recognise him. I turned in the direction -she indicated, and, standing alone, apart from the crowd, once more -saw Devlin. He was watching the performer floating from heaven to -earth. There was a strange smile upon his lips. - -I could not restrain the impulse which prompted me to move towards -him. My approach attracted his attention. He looked at me, and was -gone. I have never seen him since. - -The last words I heard him speak recur to me. There was in them the -spirit of Divine justice. Crimes cannot be for ever successfully -hidden. The monsters who commit them shall be brought to their doom by -those whose duty it is to track them down, or by unseen mysterious -agencies by which they are surrounded, or by their own confession. - -But let the legislators see to it; let those who call themselves -philanthropists and humanitarians see to it; let those whose fortune -it is to possess great wealth see to it. There are in this modern -Babylon fester-spots of corruption wherein nothing but sin and vice -can possibly grow. They are crowded with human beings ripening for -evil; they are crowded with human souls lost to salvation. They are an -infamy--and the infamy rests not upon the creatures who are born and -bred there, but upon those who allow them to be, and who have the -undoubted power to cleanse them, and make them healthy for body and -soul. For generation upon generation have they been allowed to breed -corruption; to this day they are allowed to do so. All who have the -remedy in their hands are responsible. The preacher who preaches and -does not practise; the rich who can afford, but grudges to give; the -statesman with his dilettante efforts towards social improvement, and -his huge efforts towards place and power--one and all of these are -accountable for the sin. It is no less, and it rests upon them. - - - -FOOTNOTES - -[Footnote 1: I have this desk, with its contents, now in my -possession. The extraordinary revelations made therein (which I may -mention have no connection with the present story) will one day be -made public--B. L. F.] - - - -THE END. - - -LONDON: -ROBSON AND SONS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W. - - - - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Devlin the Barber, by B. L. 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