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diff --git a/old/55617-h/55617-h.htm b/old/55617-h/55617-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index 7d73d84..0000000 --- a/old/55617-h/55617-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8779 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> -<html> -<head> -<title>Monsieur Judas.</title> -<meta name="Subtitle" content="A Paradox"> -<meta name="Author" content="Fergus Hume"> - -<meta name="Publisher" content="Spencer Blackett"> -<meta name="Date" content="[1891]"> -<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1"> -<style type="text/css"> -body {margin-left:10%; - margin-right:10%; background-color:#FFFFFF; - text-align: justify} - - -p.normal {text-indent:.25in; text-align: justify;} - -p.right {text-align:right; margin-right:20%;} -p.center {text-align: center;} -p.continue {text-indent: 0in; margin-top:9pt;} - -h1,h2,h3,h4,h5 {text-align: center;} - - -.t0 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:0em; margin-right:0em;} -.t1 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:1em; margin-right:0em;} -.t2 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:2em; margin-right:0em;} -.t3 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:3em; margin-right:0em;} -.t4 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:4em; margin-right:0em;} -.t5 {margin-top:0px; margin-bottom:0px; margin-left:5em; margin-right:0em;} - - -span.sc {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:110%;} -span.sc2 {font-variant: small-caps; font-size:90%;} - -hr.W10 {width:10%; color:black; margin-top:0pt; margin-bottom:0pt} - -hr.W20 {width:20%; color:black; margin-top:12pt; margin-bottom:12pt} - -hr.W50 {width:50%; color:black;} -hr.W90 {width:90%; color:black;} - -p.hang1 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:-3em;} -p.hang2 {margin-left:3em; text-indent:0em;} - -</style> - -</head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Judas, by Fergus Hume - -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: Monsieur Judas - A Paradox - -Author: Fergus Hume - -Release Date: September 24, 2017 [EBook #55617] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR JUDAS *** - - - - -Produced by Charles Bowen from text provided by Walter -Moore for Project Gutenberg Australia. - - - - - - -</pre> - - - -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<p class="hang1">Transcriber's Notes:<br> -1. Original text provided by Walter Moore for Project Gutenberg Australia.<br> -https://gutenberg.org.au/ebooks17/1700671h.html<br> -<br> -2. Publication date is 1891 per British Museum Catalogue of Printed -Books page<br> -491—https://books.google.com/books?id=_5ghAQAAMAAJ&pg</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3>Monsieur Judas</h3> -<h4>A Paradox</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h5>by</h5> -<h4>Fergus Hume</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h3><span style="font-size:smaller">London</span>:<br> -Spencer Blackett<br> -<span style="font-size:smaller">[1891]</span></h3> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br><table cellpadding="10" style="width:90%; margin-left:5%; font-weight:bold"> -<colgroup><col style="width:20%; vertical-align:top; text-align:right"><col style="width:80%; vertical-align:top; text-align:left"></colgroup> -<tr> -<td colspan="2"><h3>CONTENTS</h3></td> -</tr><tr> -<td>CHAPTER.</td> -<td> </td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_01" href="#div1_01">1.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Jarlchester Mystery</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_02" href="#div1_02">2.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Curious Coincidence</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_03" href="#div1_03">3.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Purely theoretical</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_04" href="#div1_04">4.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Evidence of the Chemist's Assistant</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_05" href="#div1_05">5.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Dr. Japix Speaks</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_06" href="#div1_06">6.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Monsieur Judas is Confidential</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_07" href="#div1_07">7.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">An Unwilling Bride</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_08" href="#div1_08">8.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Mr. Spolger Tells a Story</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_09" href="#div1_09">9.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">A Terrible Suspicion</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_10" href="#div1_10">10.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Missing Letters</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_11" href="#div1_11">11.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">No Smoke Without Fire</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_12" href="#div1_12">12.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Spolger Soother</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_13" href="#div1_13">13.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Craft of Monsieur Judas</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_14" href="#div1_14">14.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Who is Guilty?</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_15" href="#div1_15">15.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Monsieur Judas at Bay</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_16" href="#div1_16">16.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Man Who Loved Her</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_17" href="#div1_17">17.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">The Guessing of the Riddle</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_18" href="#div1_18">18.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">How it was Done</span></td> -</tr><tr> -<td><a name="div1Ref_19" href="#div1_19">19.</a></td> -<td><span class="sc">Mr. Fanks Finishes the Case</span></td> -</tr></table> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_01" href="#div1Ref_01">Chapter 1</a></h4> -<h5>The Jarlchester Mystery</h5> -<br> - -<p>Not an important place by any means, this sleepy little town lying at -the foot of a low range of undulating hills, beside a slow-flowing -river. A square-towered church of Norman architecture, very ancient -and very grim; one principal narrow street, somewhat crooked in its -course; other streets, narrower and more crooked, leading off on the -one side to the sheltering hills, and on the other down to the muddy -stream. Market-place octagonal in shape, with a dilapidated stone -cross of the Plantagenet period in the centre; squat stone bridge, -with massive piers, across the sullen gray waters; on the farther -shore a few red-roofed farmhouses; beyond, fertile pastoral lands and -the dim outline of distant hills.</p> - -<p>Picturesque in a quiet fashion certainly, but not striking in any way; -a haven of rest for worn-out people weary of worldly troubles, but -dull—intensely dull—for visionary youth longing for fame. The world -beyond did not know Jarlchester, and Jarlchester did not know the -world beyond, so accounts were thus equally balanced between them.</p> - -<p>Being near Winchester, the ancient capital of Saxon England, it was -asserted by archaeologists that Jarlchester, sleepy and dull as it was -in the nineteenth century, had once been an important place. Jarl -means Earl, and Chester signifies a camp; so those wiseacres asserted -that the name Jarlchester meant the Camp of the Earl; from which -supposition arose a fable that Jarl Godwin had once made the little -town his head-quarters when in revolt against pious Edward who built -St. Peter's of Westminster. As Godwin, however, according to history, -never revolted against the King, and generally resided in London, the -authenticity of the story must be regarded as doubtful. Nevertheless, -Jarlchester folks firmly believed in it, and sturdily held to their -belief against all evidence to the contrary, however clearly set -forth.</p> - -<p>They were a sleepy lot as a rule, those early-to-bed and early-to-rise -country folk; for nothing had occurred for years to disturb their -sluggish minds, so they had gradually sunk into a state of somnolent -indifference, with few ideas beyond the weather and the crops.</p> - -<p>Then Jarlchester, unimportant since Anglo-Saxon times, suddenly became -famous throughout England on account of "The Mystery," and the mystery -was "A Murder."</p> - -<p>On this moist November morning, when the whole earth shivered under a -bleak gray sky, a crowd, excited in a dull, bovine way, was assembled -in front of the "Hungry Man Inn," for in the commercial-room thereof, -now invested with a ghastly interest, an inquest was being held on the -body of a late guest of the inn, and the bucolic crowd was curious to -know the verdict.</p> - -<p>A long, low-ceilinged apartment this commercial-room, with a narrow -deal table covered with a glaring red cloth down the centre; four tall -windows looking out on to the crowd, who, with faces flattened against -the glass, peered into the room. A jury of lawful men and true, much -impressed with a sense of their importance, seated at the narrow -table; at the top thereof, the coroner, Mr. Carr, bluff, rosy-faced, -and eminently respectable. Near him a slender young man, keen-eyed and -watchful, taking notes (reported by the crowd outside to be a London -detective); witnesses seated here, there, and everywhere among eager -spectators; but the body! oh, where was the body, which was the -culminating point of interest in the whole gruesome affair? The crowd -outside was visibly disappointed to learn that the body was lying -upstairs in a darkened room, and the jury, half eager, half fearful, -having inspected it according to precedent, were now assembled to hear -all procurable evidence as to the mode in which the living man of two -days ago became the body upstairs.</p> - -<p><i>First Witness</i>.—Boots. Short, grimy, bashful; pulls forelock -stolidly, shuffles with his feet, is doubtful as to aspirates, and -speaks hoarsely, either from cold—it is raining—or from nervousness -either of the jury or of the body; perhaps both.</p> - -<p>"Name? Jim Bulkins, sir. Bin boots at ''Ungry Man' fur two year'n more -come larst Easter. Two days back, gen'man—him upstair—come 'ere t' -stay. Come wi' couach fro' Winchester. Ony a bag—leather bag—very -light. Carried 't upstair fur gen'man, who 'ad thir'-seven. Gen'man -come 'bout five. 'Ad dinner, then wrote letter. Posted letter hisself. -Show'd 'im post orfice. Guv me sixpence; guv me t'other fur carr'in' -up bag. Seemed cheerful. Went t' bed 'bout nine. Nex' mornin' I went -upstair with butts. Gen'man arsked fur butts t' be givin pusonally t' -'im 'cause 'e were perticler 'bout polish. Knocked at door; n' anser. -Knocked agin; n' anser. Thought gen'man 'sleep, so pushed door to put -butts inside; door were open."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"What do you mean by the door being open?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Weren't locked, sir; closed t' a bit—what you might call -ajar, sir. Entered room, put down butts; gen'man were lyin' quiet in -bed. Thought 'e were sleepin' an' come downstair. This were 'bout -nine. At ten went up agin. Knocked; n' anser. Knocked agin; n' anser. -Went into room agin; gen'man still sleepin'. Went to wake 'im an' -found 'e were ded. Sung out at onct, an' Mr. Chickles 'e come up."</p> - -<p><i>Juryman</i> (sharp-nosed and inquisitive).—"How was he lying when you -saw him first?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Bedclose up t' chin, sir. 'Ands and h'arms inside -bedclose; lyin' on back—bedclose smooth like. Know'd 'e were ded by -whiteness of 'is face—like chalk, sir—h'awful!"</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Are you sure deceased asked you to give him his boots -personally next morning?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Yes, sir—said 'e were vury perticler."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Did he seem to you like a man intending to make away with -himself?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"No, sir. Quite lively like. Sed as 'ow 'e were goin' to -look roun' this 'ole nex' day, sir."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i> (pompously).—"And what did the deceased mean by the -expression 'this hole,' my man?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (grinning).—"Jarlchester, sir."</p> - -<p>Great indignation on the part of the patriotic jury at hearing their -native town thus described, and as Boots is still grinning, thinking -such remark to be an excellent joke, he is told sharply to stand down, -which he does with obvious relief.</p> - -<p>The next witness called was Sampson Chickles, the landlord of the -"Hungry Man." A fat, portly individual is Mr. Chickles, with a round -red face, and a ponderous consciousness that he is the hero of the -hour—or rather the minute. "Swear Sampson Chickles!" Which is done by -a fussy clerk with a rapid gabble and a dingy Bible—open at -Revelations—and Mr. Chickles, being sworn to tell the truth and -nothing but the truth, gives his evidence in a fat voice coming -somewhere from the recesses of his rotund stomach.</p> - -<p>"My name, gentlemen, is Sampson Chickles, and I've lived in -Jarlchester, man and boy, sixty years. But I keep my health wonderful, -gentlemen, saving a touch of the—"</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Will the witness kindly confine himself to the matter in -hand?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (somewhat ruffled).—"Meaning the dead one, I presume, Mr. -Carr. Certainly, Mr. Carr; I was coming to that. He—meaning the dead -one—came here two days ago by the coach from Winchester. There is, -gentlemen, no name on his bag—there is no name on his linen—no -letters, no cards in his pockets—not even initials, gentlemen, to -prevent his clothes being stolen at the wash. He never mentioned his -name, Mr. Carr. I was going to ask him next morning, but he was dead, -and therefore, gentlemen, not in a position to speak. As far as I am -concerned, Mr. Carr, the dead one has never been christened. The -mystery—meaning the dead one—has no name that I ever heard of, and -was spoken of by me and my daughter (who may know more than her -father) as the gentleman in No. 37. I only spoke to the dead -one twice, Mr. Carr and gentlemen; once when I arranged about -terms—thirty shillings a week, gentlemen, not including wine—and -again when I asked him if he had enjoyed his dinner—soup, fish, fowl, -and pudding. Gentlemen, he had enjoyed his dinner."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i> (hungry-looking, evidently thinking of the dinner).—"Was -he cheerful, Mr. Chickles?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Jocund, sir, if I may use the term. Merry as a lark."</p> - -<p>Facetious juryman suggests wine.</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (with mournful dignity).—"No, sir! Pardon me, Mr. Specks, -he had no wine while he was in this house. His explanation was a -simple one, gentlemen—wine did not agree with his pills—tonic pills, -Mr. Carr—one to be taken before bedtime every night."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i> (with the air of having found something).—"Pills, eh? Did -he look ill?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Not exactly ill, Mr. Carr; not exactly well, gentlemen. -Betwixt and between. Weak, sir. His legs shook, his hands trembled, -and when a door banged he jumped, gentlemen—jumped!"</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i>.—"Then I presume he was taking tonic pills for his -constitution?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Well, yes, Mr. Polder, yes, sir. There is the box of -pills—tonic pills, as he—meaning the dead one—told me. Found in his -room, gentlemen—on the chest of drawers—after his death."</p> - -<p>Inspection of pills by jury. Great curiosity evinced when pills (eight -in number) appeared to be like any other pills. The London detective, -however, secured the pill-box after inspection, and sat with it in his -hand thinking deeply.</p> - -<p>Mr. Chickles, having given all his evidence, retired, with the full -consciousness that he had given it in a masterly fashion; and his -daughter, Miss Molly Chickles, plump, pretty, and a trifle coquettish, -was duly sworn. At first she was rather bashful, but having found her -tongue—a task of little difficulty for this rustic daughter of -Eve—told all she knew with many sidelong glances and confused -blushes—feminine arts not quite thrown away on the jury, although -they were to a man married and done for.</p> - -<p>Said Molly, in answer to the Coroner:</p> - -<p>"My name is Mary Chickles. Father calls me Molly. I am the daughter of -Sampson Chickles, and barmaid here. I knew the deceased, but he did -not tell me his name. He arrived here two days ago—on Tuesday, at -five, by the coach. He came into the bar, and asked me if he could put -up here for a week. I told him he could, and called father, who -arranged about the terms. He then went up to his bedroom and came down -to dinner at six. After dinner he went into the parlour, and I think -wrote a letter. After doing so he asked me where the post office was. -I sent him with Boots, and heard afterwards that he posted his letter. -On his return he sat down in the bar for a few minutes. There was no -one there at the time. He seemed to me to be very weak, and told me -his nerves were shattered. I asked him if he had consulted a doctor. -He replied that he had done so, and was taking tonic pills every night -before he went to bed. I said that I hoped he took them regular, as it -was no use unless he did so. He assured me that he always took one -pill every night without fail. He mentioned that he was going to stay -for a time in Jarlchester, and hoped the quiet would do him good."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Did he say he was down here for his health?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Not exactly, sir; but he talked a good deal about his -nerves, and such like. He said he was going to stay a week or so, and -expected a friend to join him shortly."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Oh! a friend, eh! Man or woman?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"He did not say, sir."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i>.—"When did he expect this friend?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"He said in a few days, but did not mention any special -time. After a short conversation he went to bed at nine o'clock, and -next morning father told me he was dead."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Did he appear gloomy or low-spirited?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Oh, dear no, sir. A very pleasant-spoken gentleman. He -said his nerves were bad, but I was quite astonished at his -cheerfulness."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Did he say anything about the next day?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Yes, sir. He asked if there was anything to be seen in -Jarlchester, and when I told him about the church, he said he would -look it up next day."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i>.—"Do you think he had any intention of destroying -himself?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Not so far as I saw, sir."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"He did not mention anything about the letter?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Not a word, sir."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i> (facetiously).—"Did you think him good-looking, Miss -Molly?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (tossing her head).—"Well, not what I call handsome, sir; -but there's no knowing what other girls think."</p> - -<p>With this parting shot, Miss Chickles retired to her usual place in -the bar, and gossiped to outsiders about the present aspect of the -case, while Sergeant Spills, the head of the Jarlchester police force, -came forward to give his evidence. A crisp, dry-looking man, the -Sergeant, with a crisp, dry manner, and a sharp ring in the tones of -his voice; economical in his words, decisive in his speech.</p> - -<p>"Charles Spills, sir, sergeant of the police in Jarlchester. Jim -Bulkins reported death of deceased. Came here, saw body lying in bed. -Clothes drawn up to chin. In my opinion, deceased died in his sleep. -Examined bag of deceased. Contained linen (not marked), suit of -clothes (not marked), toilet utensils of the usual kind. Drawing block -and some lead pencils (much used)."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i> (prompted by London detective).—"Were there any drawings?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"No, sir."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"No sketches or faces on the block?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"No, sir! Clothes worn by deceased—dark blue serge suit, -double-breasted."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Any name on the clothes?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"No, sir! Tag used to hang up coat, on which tailor's -name generally placed, torn off. Searched pockets; found penknife, -loose silver (twelve shillings and sixpence), and box of pills laid -before the jury. Silver watch on dressing-table—silver chain -attached—silver sovereign purse containing six sovereigns. Nothing -else."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Nothing likely to lead to the name of deceased?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Absolutely nothing, sir. Searched, but found no name. -Inquired—discovered no name. Case puzzled me, so wired to London for -detective—Mr. Fanks—now sitting on your left."</p> - -<p>Sergeant Spills having thus discharged his duty, saluted in a wooden -fashion, and substituting Joe Staggers, coachman, for himself, took up -a rigid attitude beside him, like a toy figure in a Noah's ark.</p> - -<p>Evidence of Joe Staggers. Horsey gentleman, large, red, and fat; -smothered voice, suggestive of drink; a god on the box-seat behind -four horses, but a mere mortal given to drink when on the ground.</p> - -<p>"Joseph Staggers, sur. 'Ees, sur! Druv the coaach fro Winchester t' -Jarlchest'r these ten year an' more. Two days ago—it were Toosd'y, -cos t' bay 'oss cast a shoe—I were waitin' at station, an' -gen'man—the corpus—come up t' me, an' ses 'e, 'Jarlchest'r?' -inquiring like. ''Ees, sur,' ses I, an' up 'e gits an' off we goes. 'E -sat aside me an' talked of plaace. 'Ees, sur. Ses 'e: 'This are foine -arter Lunnon."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Oh, did he say he had come from London?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (doggedly).—"'E ses what I sed afore, sur. Talked foine, -sur; but didn't knaw a 'oss fro' a cow."</p> - -<p>Mr. Staggers' evidence unanimously pronounced by jury to be worse than -useless, an opinion not shared by Mr. Fanks (of London, detective), -who scratched down something in a secretive little book with a vicious -little pencil.</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Call Dr. Drewey."</p> - -<p>A most important witness, Dr. Drewey, he having made a post-mortem -examination of the body, and the jury, hitherto somewhat languid, now -wake up, Mr. Fanks turns over a new page in his secretive little book, -and Dr. Drewey, bland, gentlemanlike, in a suit of sober black, and -gravely smiling (professional smile), gives his opinion of things with -great unction.</p> - -<p>"I have examined the body of the deceased. It is that of a man of -about eight-and-twenty years of age. Very badly nourished, and with -comparatively little food in the stomach. The stomach itself was -healthy, but I found the vessels of the head unusually turgid -throughout. There was also great fluidity of the blood, and serous -effusion in the ventricles. The pupils of the eyes were much -contracted. Judging from these appearances, and from the turgescence -of the vessels of the brain, I have no hesitation in declaring that -the deceased died from an overdose of morphia or of opium."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"Then you think the deceased took an overdose of poison?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (with bland reproof).—"I say he died from an overdose, but -I am not prepared to say that he took it himself."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i>.—"Then some one administered the dose?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"I can't say anything about that."</p> - -<p><i>A Juryman</i>.—"When do you think the deceased died?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"That is a very difficult question to answer. In most -cases of poisoning by opium, death takes place within from six to -twelve hours. I examined the body of the deceased between one and two -o'clock the next day, and from all appearances he had been dead ten -hours. According to the evidence of Miss Chickles, he went to bed at -nine o'clock, so if he took the dose of opium then—as was most -likely—he must have died about four o'clock in the morning."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"During his sleep?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Presumably so, opium being a narcotic."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i> (prompted by London detective).—"Did his stomach look like -that of an habitual opium-eater?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"No, not at all."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i>.—"According to you, the deceased must have taken the poison -at nine o'clock when he went to bed, and on looking at the evidence of -Miss Chickles, I see that the deceased stated that he took his tonic -pill regularly before he went to bed. Now did it strike you that he -might have taken two pills by mistake, which would account for his -death?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i> (hesitating).—"I acknowledge that such an explanation -certainly did occur to me, and I analysed three pills selected at -random from the box. When I did so, I found it was impossible such -pills could have caused his death."</p> - -<p><i>Coroner</i> (obviously bewildered).—"Why so?"</p> - -<p><i>Witness</i>.—"Because these tonic pills contain arsenic. There is not a -grain of morphia to be found in them. If the deceased had died from an -overdose of these pills, I would have found traces of arsenic in his -stomach; but as he died from the effects of morphia or opium—I am not -prepared to say which—these tonic pills have nothing to do with his -death."</p> - -<p>This decisive statement considerably puzzled the jury. The deceased -died of an overdose of morphia, the pills contained nothing but -arsenic; so it being clearly proved that the pills had nothing to do -with the death, the deceased must have obtained morphia or opium in -some other fashion. Sergeant Spills was recalled on the chance that -the deceased might have purchased poison from the Jarlchester chemist. -In his evidence, however, Sergeant Spills stated that he had, by -direction of Dr. Drewey, inquired into the matter, and had been -assured by the chemist that the deceased had never been near the shop. -The room had been thoroughly searched, and no drugs nor medicine of -any kind had been discovered except the box of tonic pills now before -the jury. There was absolutely nothing to show how the deceased had -come by his death, that is, he had died of an overdose of morphia, but -how the morphia had come into his possession was undiscoverable, so -the jury were quite bewildered.</p> - -<p>All obtainable evidence having been taken, the Coroner gave his -opinion thereon in a neat speech, but a speech which showed how -undecided he was in his own mind as to the real facts of this peculiar -case.</p> - -<p>"I think, gentlemen, that you will agree with me in acknowledging this -affair to be a remarkably mysterious one. The deceased comes down here -from London (as proved by the evidence of Joseph Staggers) for a few -days' rest (evidence of Miss Chickles). He gives no name, and has -neither name nor initials marked on his linen, his bag, or his -clothes. Not even a letter or a card to throw light on his identity. -Entirely unknown, he enters the doors of this inn; entirely -unknown, he dies the next morning, carrying the secret of his name -and his position into the next world. From all accounts (testified -by the evidence of several witnesses), he was quite cheerful, and -evidently—I cannot be sure—but evidently had no idea of committing -suicide. Looking at the question broadly, gentlemen, the idea of -suicide would no doubt have to be abandoned; but looking at the case -from my point of view, the whole affair is peculiarly suggestive of -self-destruction. This gentleman, now deceased, comes down here, he is -careful to give no address, which showed that he wished his friends to -remain ignorant of his death. He is very cheerful, and talks about -exploring the neighbourhood next day—a mere blind, gentlemen of the -jury, as I firmly believe. After writing a letter—doubtless one of -farewell to some friend—he retires quietly to bed, and is found dead -next morning. The post-mortem examination, undertaken by Dr. Drewey, -shows that he died from the effects of an overdose of morphia or -opium. Now, gentlemen, he must have taken the morphia or opium -himself. No one else could have administered it, as he was not known -in Jarlchester, having been here only a few hours when his death -occurred, so no one had any reason to give him poison. Regarding the -pills now before us, they have been analysed by Dr. Drewey, and are -found to contain only arsenic, so we may dismiss the pills altogether. -He died of morphia and must have taken it himself, as, had it been -administered violently by another person, the sounds of a struggle -would have been heard. No sounds were heard, however, so this proves -to my mind that he killed himself wilfully. No traces of any drugs -(saving the pills alluded to) were found in his room; as proved by -Sergeant Spills, he bought no drugs from our local chemist, so only -one presumption remains. The deceased must have brought here from -London a sufficient quantity of morphia to kill him—took it all, -and died leaving no trace of the drug behind. Unknown, unnamed, -unfriended, the deceased came to this town, and no one but himself -could have administered the poison of which he died. You, gentlemen, -as well as myself, have heard the evidence of the intelligent -witnesses, and will, therefore, give your verdict in accordance with -their evidence; but from what has been stated, and from the whole -peculiar circumstances of the case, I firmly believe—in my own mind, -gentlemen—that the deceased died by his own hand."</p> - -<p>Thus far the sapient Coroner, who delivered this address with a solemn -air, much to the satisfaction of the jury, who were dull-minded men, -quite prepared to be guided by a master-spirit such as they regarded -the Coroner.</p> - -<p>During the speech, indeed, a scornful smile might have been seen on -the thin lips of Mr. Fanks; but no one noticed it, so intent were they -on the words of wisdom which fell from the lips of Mr. Coroner Carr.</p> - -<p>Under the inspiration, therefore, of the Coroner, the twelve lawful -men and true brought in a verdict quite in accordance with their own -and the Coroner's ideas on the subject:</p> - -<p>"That the deceased (name unknown) died on the morning of the 13th of -November, through an overdose of morphia taken by himself during a -temporary fit of insanity."</p> - -<p>Having thus relieved their minds to their own satisfaction, this -assemblage of worthies—asinine for the most part—went their several -ways quite convinced that they had solved the Jarlchester Mystery.</p> - -<p>"The fools," said Mr. Fanks, scornfully, slipping the pill-box, which -had been left on the table, into his pocket. "They think they've got -to the bottom of this affair. Why, they don't know what they're -talking about."</p> - -<p>"You don't think it's suicide?" asked Sergeant Spills, crisply, rather -nettled at the poor opinion Mr. Fanks entertained of the Jarlchester -brains.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't," retorted the detective, coolly; "but I think it's a -murder, and an uncommonly clever murder, too."</p> - -<p>"But your reasons?" demanded Spills, with wooden severity.</p> - -<p>"Ah, my reasons," replied Mr. Fanks, reflectively. "Well, yes! I've -got my reasons, but they wouldn't be intelligible to you."</p> - -<h4>Extracts From a Detective's Note-Book</h4> - -<p>"A curious case, this Jarlchester Mystery—I must confess myself -puzzled . . . From Drewey's evidence deceased died of morphia -. . . Pills only contain arsenic . . . can't be any connection -between the death and those pills . . . Can't find out where deceased -purchased morphia . . . Perhaps Coroner right, and he brought it from -London . . . Examined clothes of deceased . . . well made . . . -fashionable . . . shabby . . . Qy., seedy swell? . . . such a one -might commit suicide . . . Doubtful as to nerve . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Don't understand that open door . . . ajar . . . nervous man -wouldn't sleep with door ajar . . . absurd . . . Qy., could any one -have entered room during night? . . . Impossible, as deceased a -stranger here . . .</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To find out if any one slept in adjacent rooms.</p> - -<p>". . . Examine pill-box . . . sudden idea about same . . . Fancy I'll -be able to find name of deceased ... if so look for motive of murder -. . . questionable, very! if idea will lead to anything . . . still -I'll try . . . This case piques my curiosity . . . Is it murder or -suicide? . . . I must discover which . . ."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_02" href="#div1Ref_02">Chapter 2</a></h4> -<h5>A Curious Coincidence</h5> -<br> - -<p>That night, after a comfortable dinner—and the "Hungry Man's" dinners -were something to be remembered—Mr. Fanks sat in front of the fire -staring into a chaos of burning coals, and thinking deeply. It was in -the commercial-room, of course, but there were no commercial -travellers present. Mr. Fanks with a world of thought in his shrewd -face was the only occupant of the room, and sat within the cheery -circle of light proceeding from the red glare of the fire and the -yellow flame of the lamp, while at his back the place was in -semi-darkness. Cold, too—a nipping, chilly, frosty feeling, as if -winter was giving the world a foretaste of his Christmas quality, and -outside on the four tall windows beat the steady rain, while -occasionally a gust of wind made their frames rattle.</p> - -<p>Here, however, in this oasis of light in a desert of gloom, everything -was pleasant and agreeable, except perchance Mr. Fanks, who sat with -his cup of coffee standing on the table at his elbow untasted, while -he frowned thoughtfully at the chaotic fire as though he had a -personal spite against it.</p> - -<p>A clever face, a very clever face, clean shaven, with sharply cut -features, dark hair, touched with gray at the temples, and cut short -in the military fashion, keen eyes of a bluish tint, with a shrewd -twinkle in their depths, and a thin-lipped, resolute mouth—perhaps a -trifle too resolute for so young a man (he was not more than thirty); -but then, Mr. Fanks, although young in years, was old in experience, -and every line on his features was a record of something learned at -the cost of something lost, and on that account never forgotten. A -smart, alert figure, too, had Mr. Fanks, well-clothed in a rough gray -tweed suit, slender, sinewy hands with a ring—signet ring—on the -little finger of the left one, and well-formed feet, neatly shod in -boots of tanned leather.</p> - -<p>A gentleman! Yes, decidedly the London detective was a gentleman—that -could be seen by his whole appearance; and as to his dress, well, he -wore his clothes like a man who went to a good tailor and valued him -accordingly.</p> - -<p>Quoth Mr. Fanks, after some minutes of deep thought, during which he -removed his keen eyes from gazing fire-wards, and looked doubtfully at -a pill-box which he held in his left hand:</p> - -<p>"This is the only clue I can possibly obtain. The chemist who made -up these pills has kindly put his name and address—in print—on the -box. If, then, I go to this chemist, I will be able to find out the -name of the dead man—after that the circumstances of his life, and -then—well, after all, I may be wrong, and these country bumpkins -right. It may be a case of suicide—I suppose, under the -circumstances, they could hardly bring in any other verdict, and yet -it is so strange. Why should he have poisoned himself with morphia, -when he could have done so with an overdose of these pills? Easier -death, I dare say. Morphia is a narcotic, and arsenic an irritant. -Humph! it's a strange case altogether—very strange. I don't know -exactly what to make of it."</p> - -<p>He relapsed into silence, slipped the pill-box into his pocket, -and taking the cup from the table began to sip his coffee slowly. -Coffee—black coffee, hot and strong, as Mr. Fanks was now taking -it—clears the brain, and renders it intensely sharp and wakeful; so -after a few minutes the detective put down the cup, and thrusting his -hands into his trousers pockets, stretched out his long legs, and -began to think aloud once more, as was his fashion when alone.</p> - -<p>"It's a fine profession that of a detective, but one gets tired of -commonplace murders; this, however, isn't a commonplace murder. Query. -Is it a murder at all? Jury say 'No.' I say 'Yes'—eh! I wonder who is -right! Egotism on my part, probably, but I believe in my own idea. Why -should a man come down to this out-of-the-way place to die? Why should -he take the trouble to explain that he intends to stop here for a week -if he intended to commit suicide? No! I can't and won't believe it's -suicide. As to that theory of Carr's, that he brought just enough -morphia to poison himself. Rubbish! Suicides don't take so much -trouble as a rule. My belief," continued Mr. Fanks, reflectively, "my -belief is that he took something innocently and it killed him. Now -what would he take innocently? These pills, of course! Yet, if they -killed him, it would be arsenic, not morphia. Hang it, what the deuce -does it all mean?"</p> - -<p>There being no answer to this question, he caught his chin between his -finger and thumb, staring hard at the fire meanwhile, as if thereby to -solve his doubts. A hard case, this Jarlchester Mystery; a difficult -case; and yet it fascinated Mr. Fanks by its very difficulty. He was -fond of difficulties, this young man. In his childish days, Chinese -puzzles—most perplexing of mysteries—had been his delight. As a -schoolboy, he adored algebraical problems and newspaper cryptograms, -so now in his early manhood he found his true vocation in solving -those inexplicable enigmas which the criminal classes, and very often -the non-criminal classes—principally the latter—present to the world -for solution.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks was suddenly aroused from his problematical musings by the -sudden opening of the door, and on turning his head with a start, saw -it was being closed by a tall young man, who immediately afterwards -advanced slowly towards the fire.</p> - -<p>"As this is the warmest room in the house," said the new-comer, -carelessly, "I've ventured to intrude my company upon you for an hour -or so."</p> - -<p>"Very pleased, indeed," murmured Mr. Fanks, pushing his chair to one -side, so as to allow the stranger to have a fair share of the fire. -"It's dull work sitting alone."</p> - -<p>This movement on the part of Mr. Fanks and the sitting down of the -stranger brought both their faces within the mellow radiance of the -lamp, whereupon a sudden look of recognition flashed into the eyes of -each.</p> - -<p>"Roger Axton!" cried the detective, springing to his feet.</p> - -<p>"Fanks!" said the other, also rising and cordially clasping the hand -held out to him. "My dear old schoolfellow!"</p> - -<p>"And your dear old schoolfellow's nickname also," remarked Fanks, as -they shook hands heartily. "What a curious coincidence, to be sure! It -is only the mountains that never meet."</p> - -<p>"Ten years ago," said Axton, resuming his seat with a sigh. "Ten years -ago, Octavius!"</p> - -<p>"And it seems like yesterday," observed Octavius, smiling. "Strange -that I should meet little Axton at Jarlchester, of all places in the -world. What brought you here, old boy?"</p> - -<p>"My own legs," said Roger, complacently. "I'm in the poet trade, and -have been trying to draw inspiration from nature during a walking -tour."</p> - -<p>"A poet, eh! Yes, I remember your rhapsodies about Shelley and Keats -at school. So you've followed in their footsteps, Roger. 'The child's -the father of the man.' That's the Bible, isn't it?"</p> - -<p>"I've got a hazy idea that Wordsworth said something like it," -responded Axton, drily. "Yes, I'm a poet. And you?"</p> - -<p>"I'm the prose to your poetry. You study nature, I study man."</p> - -<p>"Taken Pope's advice, no doubt. A novelist?"</p> - -<p>"No; not a paying line nowadays. Overcrowded."</p> - -<p>"A schoolmaster?"</p> - -<p>"Worse still. We can't all be Arnolds."</p> - -<p>"Let us say a phrenologist?"</p> - -<p>"Pooh! do I look like a charlatan?"</p> - -<p>"No, indeed, Fanks! Eh, Fanks," repeated Axton, struck with a sudden -idea, and pushing his chair away from that of his companion. "Why, -you're a detective down here about that—that suicide."</p> - -<p>"What wonderful penetration!" said Octavius, laughing. "How did you -hit upon that idea, my friend?"</p> - -<p>Roger Axton's hand went up to his fair moustache, which hardly -concealed the quivering of his lips, and he laughed in an uneasy -manner.</p> - -<p>"Circumstantial evidence," he said at last, hurriedly. "The barmaid -told me that a London detective called Fangs was down here on account -of the—the suicide, and allowing for her misuse of the name, and your -unexpected presence here, it struck me—"</p> - -<p>"That I must be the man," finished Fanks, shooting a keen glance at -the somewhat careworn face of his school friend. "Well, you are -perfectly right. I am Octavius Fanks, of Scotland Yard, detective, -formerly Octavius Rixton, of nowhere in particular, idler. You don't -seem to relish the idea of my being a bloodhound of the law."</p> - -<p>"I—I—er—well, I certainly don't see why a detective shouldn't be as -respectable as any other man. Still—"</p> - -<p>"There's a kind of Dr. Fell dislike towards him," responded Octavius, -composedly. "Yes, that's true enough, though intensely ridiculous. -People always seem to be afraid of a detective. I don't know why, -unless, maybe, it's their guilty conscience."</p> - -<p>"Their conscience?" faltered Axton, with an obvious effort.</p> - -<p>"I said 'their guilty conscience'" corrected Fanks, with emphasis. -"I'll tell you all about it, Roger. But first take your face out of -the shadow, and let me have a look at you. I want to see how the boy -of seventeen looks as the man of seven-and-twenty."</p> - -<p>Reluctantly—very reluctantly, Roger Axton did as he was requested, -and when the yellow light shone full on his face, the detective stared -steadily at him, with the keen look of one accustomed to read every -line, every wrinkle, every light, every shadow on the features of his -fellow-men, and skilled to understand the meanings thereof.</p> - -<p>It was a handsome young face of the fresh-coloured Saxon type, but -just now looked strangely haggard and careworn. Dark circles under the -bright blue eyes, the complexion faded from healthy hues to a dull -unnatural white; and the yellow hair tossed in careless disorder from -off the high forehead, whereon deep lines between the arched eyebrows -betrayed vexation or secret trouble—perhaps both. A face that should -have worn a merry smile, but did not; lips that should have shown the -white teeth in a happy laugh, but did not; eyes that should have -burned with poetic fire, with jocund good-humour, with love fire, but -did not. No! this face that was young, and should have looked young, -bore the impress of a disturbed mind, of a spirit ill at ease, and the -keen-eyed detective, withdrawing his gaze with a sigh from the face, -let it rest on the figure of Roger Axton.</p> - -<p>No effeminacy there, in spite of the girlish delicacy of the face and -the gentle look in the blue eyes. On the contrary, a stalwart, -muscular frame, well developed, and heavily knit. Plenty of bone, and -flesh, and muscle, over six feet in height, an undefinable look of -latent strength, of easy consciousness of power. Yes, Roger Axton was -not an antagonist to be despised, and looked more like a fighting -man-at-arms than a peaceful poet.</p> - -<p>He bore the scrutiny of Mr. Fanks, however, with obvious discomposure, -and the hand holding the well-worn briar-root, which he was filling -from his tobacco-pouch, trembled slightly in spite of all his efforts -to steady the muscles.</p> - -<p>"Well!" he said at length, striking a match, "I see you bring your -detective habits into private life, which must be pleasant for your -friends. May I ask if you are satisfied?"</p> - -<p>"The face," observed Octavius, leisurely waving his hand to disperse -the smoke-clouds rolling from the briar-root of his companion, "the -face is not that of a happy man!"</p> - -<p>"It would be very curious if it was," replied Axton, sulkily, "seeing -that the owner is not happy."</p> - -<p>"Youth, good looks, genius, health," said Fanks, reflectively. "With -all these you ought to be happy, Roger."</p> - -<p>"No doubt! But what I ought to be and what I am, are two very -different things."</p> - -<p>"Judging by your face, they certainly are," retorted the detective, -drily; "but what is the matter with you, grumbler? Are you hard up?"</p> - -<p>"No! I have a sufficiency of this world's goods."</p> - -<p>"The critics have been abusing your last poems, perhaps?"</p> - -<p>"Pooh! I'm used to that."</p> - -<p>"Ah! then there's only one reason left. You are in love?"</p> - -<p>"True, oh king," said Roger, drawing hard at his pipe, "I am in love."</p> - -<p>"Tell me all about it," said Fanks, curling himself up luxuriously in -his chair. "I adore love confidences. When you were a small nuisance -at school, you told me all your troubles, and I consoled you. Do so -now, and—"</p> - -<p>"No! no!" cried Axton, suddenly, "you can't console me now. No one can -do that."</p> - -<p>"That remains to be seen," said Fanks, smiling. "Come now, Roger, tell -me your trouble. Though we have been parted for ten years, I have -often thought of my school friend. Unburden your heart to me; it will -relieve your mind if it does nothing else."</p> - -<p>Thus adjured, Roger brightened up, and settling himself comfortably in -his chair, put his feet against the mantelpiece, blew a thick cloud of -smoke, and began to tell his story.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid my story hasn't the merit of novelty," he said, candidly. -"After you left school I remained, as you know. Then my parents -died—within a few months of each other—and I found myself a -well-provided orphan. When I say well-provided, I mean that I had an -income of three hundred a year, and one can always live comfortably on -six pounds a week, if not extravagant. Being thus independent of the -world, the flesh, and the devil, meaning thereby the employer, the -publisher, and the critic, I went in for writing poetry. It didn't -pay, of course, this being the age of sensational literature; but -verse manufacturing amused me, and I wandered all over England and the -Continent in a desultory sort of way. A kind of grand tour in the poet -line, midway between the poverty of Goldsmith and the luxury of Byron. -I published a book of poems and the critics abused it—found plenty of -faults and no virtues. Well, I was wrathful at this new massacre of -the literary innocents and fled to the land of Egypt—in plain English -I went down to Ventnor in the Isle of Wight. There I met Her—"</p> - -<p>"With a large 'H,' of course," murmured Mr. Fanks, sympathetically.</p> - -<p>"For the second time. I then—"</p> - -<p>"Ah! May I ask where you met her for the first time?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, in some other place," said Roger, evasively; "but that's got -nothing to do with the subject. The first time we met—well, it was -the first time."</p> - -<p>"I didn't think it was the second, fond lover. But I understand the -second time was the critical one."</p> - -<p>"Exactly! It was last August," said Axton, speaking rapidly, so as to -give Fanks no further opportunity of interrupting. "I was, as I have -stated, at Ventnor, with the idea of writing a drama—Shakespearean, -of course—Elizabethan style, you understand, with a dash of modern -cynicism, and <i>fin de siècle</i> flippancy in it. Wandering about -Ventnor, I came across Judith Varlins."</p> - -<p>"For the second time of asking—I mean meeting," interpolated Fanks, -lightly. "So her name was Judith. Heroic name, suggestive of queenly -woman, dark-browed Cleopatra, and all that sort of thing. I picture to -myself a grand Semiramis."</p> - -<p>Roger shook his head.</p> - -<p>"No; she was not a handsome woman. Tall, graceful, dark-browed, if you -like, but not pretty."</p> - -<p>"Pshaw! who ever called regal Semiramis pretty? Such a weak adjective. -But I guess your meaning. Her mind was more beautiful than her face."</p> - -<p>"If her face had been as beautiful as her mind, sir," replied Axton, -in the Johnsonian style, "she would have been the most beautiful woman -in the world."</p> - -<p>"Like Dulcinea, eh, Don Quixote Roger? Well; and you met -often—juxtaposition is fatal—and love sprang up like Jonah's gourd -in one night."</p> - -<p>"No; she was not a woman to be lightly won. Judith had with her a -cousin—a pretty, golden-haired damsel, whom she worshipped."</p> - -<p>"Oh! had you met Golden-hair before?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but I didn't take much notice of her."</p> - -<p>"Of course. Preferred brunette to blonde!"</p> - -<p>"Decidedly. Well, Florry Marson—"</p> - -<p>"The blue-eyed darling?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Florry Marson was a foolish, frivolous little thing, who had -been confided to Judith's care by her dead mother."</p> - -<p>"Whose dead mother, Florry's or Judith's?" asked Fanks, lightly.</p> - -<p>"Florry's, of course," replied Roger, impatiently; "and Judith looked -after her like the apple of her eye, though I'm afraid she had rather -a hard task, for Miss Marson was one of those irritating girls who did -all manner of things without thinking. She was engaged to marry a man -called Spolger."</p> - -<p>"Anything to do with 'Spolger's Soother, a Good Night's Rest'?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; he's the owner."</p> - -<p>"Oh! and frivolous Florry didn't like him."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?" asked Roger, in a startled tone.</p> - -<p>"Because I've seen Spolger's Soother, and he's not pretty enough for -such an empty-headed minx as you describe Miss Marson."</p> - -<p>"You are right. She was engaged to him by her father's desire, but she -loved a scamp—good-looking, of course, with no money, and had been -exiled to Ventnor to escape him."</p> - -<p>"Eh! It's quite a romance," said Fanks, gaily. "What was the scamp's -name?"</p> - -<p>Roger fidgeted in his chair before replying, which action did not -escape the lynx eyes of Mr. Fanks, who said nothing, but waited.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," said Roger, turning away his head.</p> - -<p>"That's a lie," thought Octavius, as he saw the manner in which Mr. -Axton replied to a seemingly simple question. "Queer! Why should he -tell me such a useless lie?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know anything about the scamp," went on Axton, hurriedly; -"but he is the cause of all my unhappiness."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"Because Judith—Miss Varlins—refused to marry me on his account."</p> - -<p>"What! she loved him also. Fascinating scamp!"</p> - -<p>"I don't know if she loved him exactly," said Axton, in a musing tone. -"The reason she gave me for her rejection of my proposal was that she -could not leave her cousin Florence; but she seemed strangely moved -when she spoke of—of Florry's lover."</p> - -<p>"Don't you remember his name?" asked Fanks, noticing the momentary -hesitation.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't," replied Roger, angrily. "Why do you keep asking me that -question?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, nothing," said Octavius, quietly; "only I thought that as these -two girls had told you so much about themselves, they might have told -you more."</p> - -<p>"Judith Varlins is a very reserved woman."</p> - -<p>"And Miss Marson?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't see much of her," answered Roger, moodily, "nor did I wish -to—a frivolous little minx, who came between me and my happiness. -Well, there's nothing more to tell. After my rejection I left Ventnor -for London, and ultimately came down here on a walking tour."</p> - -<p>"You've not seen Miss Varlins since, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>Again Roger turned away his head, and again the action is noted by Mr. -Fanks.</p> - -<p>"No," replied Axton, in a low voice. "I—I have not seen her since."</p> - -<p>"Lie number two," thought Octavius, wonderingly. "What does it all -mean? Do you correspond with her?" he asked, aloud.</p> - -<p>"No! Confound it, Fanks, don't put me in the witness-box," cried -Roger, rising to his feet.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, old fellow," said Octavius, meekly, "it's a habit -I've got. A very bad one, I'm afraid. Well, I hope things will go well -with you and the marriage with Miss Varlins will take place."</p> - -<p>Roger, who was walking rapidly up and down the long room, now -vanishing into the chill shadow, anon emerging into the warm -lamp-light, stopped at the sound of the name and flung up his arms -with a low cry of anguish.</p> - -<p>"Never! never!" he cried bitterly, "I shall never marry her."</p> - -<p>"Poor old chap, you do seem to be hard hit," said Octavius, -sympathetically, "but hope for the best. Florry will marry her patent -medicine man, and forget the scamp. Judith will marry you and forget -Florry, so things will come out all straight in the long run."</p> - -<p>"I hope so," said Axton, resuming his seat, rather ashamed of his -emotion; "but they don't look very promising at present. Ah, well, -it's no use fighting Destiny. Do you remember the grim view old -Sophocles takes of that deity? A classic Juggernaut, crushing all who -oppose her. I trust I won't be one of her victims, but I'm doubtful. -However, now I've told you my story, what about your own?"</p> - -<p>"Mine," said Mr. Fanks, lightly; "bless you, Roger, I'm like Canning's -knife-grinder, I've got none to tell. As you know, I'm the eighth son -of an impoverished country gentleman, hence my name, Octavius. All my -brothers were put into the army, the navy, the Church, and all that -sort of thing, so when my turn came to make a <i>début</i> in life there -was nothing left for me to do. My father, at his wits' end, suggested -the colonies, that refuge for destitute younger sons, but I didn't -care about turning digger or sheep farmer, and positively refused to -be exiled. I came up to London to look round, and made my choice. -Being fond of puzzles and cryptograms, I thought I would turn my -ingenuity in unravelling enigmas to practical account, and became a -detective. The family cast me off; however, I didn't mind that. I left -off the name of Rixton and took that of Fanks—my old school name, you -remember—so I didn't disgrace the Rixtons of Derbyshire. Being a -gentleman doesn't mean bread and butter in these democratic days; and -though my pedigree's as long as the tail of a kite, it was quite as -useless in a commercial sense. Besides, the detective business is just -as honourable as any other, and also very exciting, so I don't regret -having gone in for it. I get well paid also, and the life suits me."</p> - -<p>"Is your father reconciled to you yet?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, in a sort of a way; but the Vidocq business sticks in his -throat and he can't swallow it. However, I visit the paternal acres -sometimes, and no one thinks Octavius Rixton, gentleman, has anything -to do with Octavius Fanks, detective."</p> - -<p>"And you like your profession?"</p> - -<p>"I adore it. Mystery has a wonderful charm for human nature, and -there's a marvellous fascination in joining together a criminal -puzzle. I've had all kinds of queer cases through my hands dealing -with the seamy side of humanity, and have been uniformly successful -with the lot. This affair, however, puzzles me dreadfully."</p> - -<p>"It's a horrible thing," said Roger, relighting his pipe, which had -gone out. "I went for a long walk to-day so as to avoid the inquest."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you poets have not got strong nerves."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid not. I hear the verdict was suicide."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and I don't agree with the verdict."</p> - -<p>Roger turned round quickly, and looked straight at his companion, who -was staring absently at the fire.</p> - -<p>"Indeed," he said at length. "Why not?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! Oh, I don't know; I've got my reasons," replied Fanks, coolly, -evidently not wishing to continue the subject. "By the way, how long -are you going to stop here?"</p> - -<p>"Just for to-night; I'm off to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"So am I. London?"</p> - -<p>"No, I'm going to continue my walking tour."</p> - -<p>"Ah, sly dog," cried Fanks, gaily, "I understand. You are going to -look up Miss Varlins again."</p> - -<p>Roger bit his nether lip hard, and replied, coldly, in a somewhat -sober fashion, neither affirming nor denying the insinuation:</p> - -<p>"I won't find her down here at all events."</p> - -<p>"Oh! Then she's still at Ventnor?"</p> - -<p>"No! She and Miss Marson have gone home."</p> - -<p>"Really! And where is home?"</p> - -<p>"My dear Fanks, your cross-examination is most trying."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon," said Octavius, ceremoniously, "I was not aware I -had asked an impertinent question."</p> - -<p>"Nor have you, my dear fellow," cried Axton, cordially. "Don't mind my -bad temper, I can't help it. My nerves are all unstrung with this -horrible business of the inquest. There's no reason why I should not -tell you where Miss Varlins lives."</p> - -<p>"Oh, never mind," said Fanks, a trifle coldly; "I don't want to know."</p> - -<p>"Don't get offended at nothing, Octavius," replied Roger, in an -injured tone; "I will tell you if it's only to make amends for my -rudeness. Miss Varlins lives at Ironfields."</p> - -<p>The detective jumped to his feet with a sudden ejaculation, at which -Axton also arose, looking pale and alarmed.</p> - -<p>"What's the matter, Fanks?" he asked, hurriedly.</p> - -<p>For answer, Octavius Fanks drew the pill-box from his pocket, and -placing it silently on the table, pointed to the inscription on the -lid:</P> -<br> - -<p class="center"> -"Wosk & Co.<br> -Chemists, Ironfields."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_03" href="#div1Ref_03">Chapter 3</a></h4> -<h5>Purely Theoretical</h5> -<br> - -<p>Roger Axton stood looking at the pill-box on the table, and Octavius -Fanks stood looking at Roger Axton, the former lost in a fit of -painful musing (evident from his pale face, his twitching lips, his -startled expression), the latter keenly observant, according to his -usual habits. At last Roger with a deep sigh drew his hand across his -brow and resumed his seat, while Mr. Fanks, picking up the pill-box, -gave it a cheerful rattle as he followed his example.</p> - -<p>"What a strange coincidence," he said, thoughtfully; "but I'm not -astonished. This sort of thing occurs in real life as well as in -novels. 'Truth is stranger than fiction.' I don't know who first made -that remark, but he was a wise man, you may depend, and wonderfully -observant of events before he crystallised his experience in those -five words."</p> - -<p>"It certainly is curious," replied Roger, absently, as though he were -thinking of something else. "Fancy finding the name of the town where -She—"</p> - -<p>"With a large S, of course."</p> - -<p>"Where she lives, printed on a pill-box," finished Roger, and then, -after a pause: "What do you think of it, Fanks?"</p> - -<p>"Think!" repeated Octavius, thoughtfully. "Oh, I think it is the clue -to the whole mystery."</p> - -<p>"Why, what do you mean?" asked Roger, in a startled tone.</p> - -<p>"What I say," retorted Fanks, twirling the pill-box round and round. -"It's not difficult of comprehension. Man, name unknown, comes down -here, and dies shortly after his arrival. Inquest; verdict, suicide! -Fiddle-de-dee! Murder! And this pill-box is the first link in the -chain that will bind the criminal. By the way," said Octavius, -suddenly struck with a new idea, "how long have you been at -Jarlchester?"</p> - -<p>"A week."</p> - -<p>"Oh! Then you were here when the man died?"</p> - -<p>"I was."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Excuse my witness-box manner!"</p> - -<p>"Don't apologise," said Roger, quietly. "Cross-examine me as much as -you like. It seems second nature with detectives to suspect every -one."</p> - -<p>"Suspect!" repeated Octavius, in an injured tone. "Good heavens, -Axton, what are you talking about? I'd as soon think of suspecting -myself, you peppery young ass. But I'm anxious to find out all about -this affair, and naturally ask the people who lived under the same -roof as the dead man. You are one of the people, so I ask you."</p> - -<p>"Ask me what?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, several things."</p> - -<p>"Well, go on; but I warn you I know nothing," said Roger, gloomily.</p> - -<p>"I tell you what, young man," observed Mr. Fanks, sententiously, "you -need shaking up a bit. This love affair has made you view all things -in a most bilious fashion. An overdose of love, and poetry, and -solitude incapacitates a human being for enjoying life, so if you are -wise—which I beg leave to doubt—you will brace up your nerves by -helping me to find out this mystery."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid I'd make a sorry detective, Octavius."</p> - -<p>"That remains to be proved. See here, old boy. I was called down here -about this case, and as the wiseacres of Jarlchester have settled it -to their own satisfaction that there is—to their minds—no more need -for my services, I am discharged—dismissed—turned out by Jarlchester -& Co.; but as I don't often get such a clever case to look after, I'm -going to find out the whole affair for my own pleasure."</p> - -<p>"It seems a disease with you, this insatiable curiosity to find out -things."</p> - -<p>"Ay, that it is. We call it detective fever. Join me in this case, and -you'll find yourself suffering from the disease in a wonderfully short -space of time."</p> - -<p>"No, thank you; I prefer my freedom."</p> - -<p>"And your idleness! Well, go your own way, Roger. If you won't take -the medicine I prescribe, you certainly won't be cured. Unrequited -love will lie heavy on your heart, and your health and work will -suffer in consequence. Both will be dull, and between doctors and -critics you will have a high old time of it, dear boy."</p> - -<p>"What nonsense you do talk!" said Roger, fretfully.</p> - -<p>"Eh! do you think so? Perhaps I'm like Touchstone, and use my folly as -a stalking-horse behind which to shoot my wit. I'm not sure if I'm -quoting rightly, but the moral is apparent. However, all this is not -to the point—to my point, I mean—and if you have not got detective -fever I have, so I will use you as a medicine to allay the disease."</p> - -<p>"Fire away, old fellow," said Axton, turning his chair half round so -as to place his tell-tale face in the shadow, thereby rendering it -undecipherable to Fanks; "I'm all attention."</p> - -<p>Octavius at once produced his secretive little note-book and vicious -little pencil, which latter assumed dramatic significance in the -nervous fingers that held it.</p> - -<p>"I'm ready," said Fanks, letting his pencil-point jest on a clean -white page. "Question first: Did you know this dead man?"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens, no. I don't even know his name nor his appearance."</p> - -<p>"You have never seen him?"</p> - -<p>"How could I have seen him? I am exploring the neighbourhood, and -generally start on my travels in the morning early and return late. -This man arrived at five, went to bed at nine, and as I didn't come -back till ten o'clock I didn't see him on that night; next morning he -was dead."</p> - -<p>"Did you not see the corpse?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Roger, with a shudder, "I don't care for such 'wormy -circumstance.'"</p> - -<p>"Wormy circumstance is good," remarked Fanks, approvingly. "Keats, I -think. Yes, I thought so. I see you don't care for horrors. You are -not of the Poe-Baudelaire school of grave-digging, corpse-craving -poesy."</p> - -<p>"Hardly! I don't believe in going to the gutter for inspiration."</p> - -<p>"Ah! now you are thinking of MM. Zola and Gondrecourt, my friend; but, -dear me, how one thing does lead to another. We are discussing -literature instead of murder. Let us return to our first loves. Why -didn't you attend the inquest?"</p> - -<p>"Because I didn't want to."</p> - -<p>"An all-sufficient reason, indeed," remarked Mr. Fanks, drily, making -digs at his book with the pencil. "I wonder you weren't called as a -witness."</p> - -<p>"No necessity. I know nothing of the affair."</p> - -<p>"Absolutely nothing?" (interrogative).</p> - -<p>"Absolutely nothing." (decisive).</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks twirled his vicious little pencil in his fingers, closed his -secretive little book with a snap, and replaced them both in his -pocket with a sigh.</p> - -<p>"You are a most unsatisfactory medicine, my dear Roger. You have done -nothing to cure my detective fever."</p> - -<p>"Am I so bad as that? Come now, I'll tell you one thing: I slept in -the room next to that of the dead man."</p> - -<p>"You did?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"And you heard nothing on that night!"</p> - -<p>"If you walked twenty miles during the day, Fanks, you would have been -too tired to listen for the sounds of a possible murder."</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes, of course. What a pity we can't look twenty-four hours -ahead of things; it would save such a lot of trouble."</p> - -<p>"And prevent such a lot of murders. If such prophetic power were given -to humanity, I'm afraid your occupation would be gone."</p> - -<p>"Othello's remark! yes, of course; but I'm sorry you slept so soundly -on that night, as some one might have been in the dead man's room."</p> - -<p>"Why do you think so?" asked Roger, quickly.</p> - -<p>"Because the door was slightly ajar," replied Fanks, sagaciously; "a -nervous man would not have slept with his door like that. You're sure -you heard nothing?"</p> - -<p>"Quite sure."</p> - -<p>"It's a pity—a great pity. By the way, have you ever been to -Ironfields?"</p> - -<p>Roger hesitated, turned uneasily in his chair, and at last blurted -out:</p> - -<p>"No; I have never been to Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"Humph!" said Fanks, looking doubtfully at him. "I thought you might -have met Miss Varlins there for the first time."</p> - -<p>"So I might," replied Roger, equably; "at the same time I might have -met her in London."</p> - -<p>"So you don't know anything about Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"Only that it is a manufacturing town given over to the domination of -foundries and millionaires in the iron interest; to me it is simply a -geographical expression."</p> - -<p>"I plead guilty to the same state of ignorance, but I will shortly be -wiser, because I am going down to Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"What for?" demanded Roger, with a start.</p> - -<p>"I shouldn't let you into the secrets of the prison house," -said Mr. Fanks, severely; "but as you are 'mine own familiar -friend'—Shakespeare again, ubiquitous poet well, as you are mine own -familiar friend, I don't mind telling you in confidence, I'm going -down to see Wosk & Co., of Ironfields, Chemists."</p> - -<p>"And your object?"</p> - -<p>"Is to find out the name of the gentleman who bought those pills."</p> - -<p>"I don't see what good that will do."</p> - -<p>"Blind, quite blind," said Octavius, nodding his head mournfully. "I -will unfold myself—the immortal bard for the third time. When I find -out the name of the deceased, which I can do through that pill-box, I -will be able to find out all about his antecedents. Satisfied on that -point, it is possible, nay probable, that I may find some one who has -ill-feelings towards him."</p> - -<p>"And therefore poisons him in Jarlchester while they remain at -Ironfields," said Roger, ironically. "I congratulate you on your -clear-sightedness."</p> - -<p>"It's puzzling, certainly, very puzzling," replied Fanks, rubbing his -head with an air of vexation. "I've got absolutely nothing to work -on."</p> - -<p>"And are going to work on it. Pish! sandy foundations."</p> - -<p>"Now look here, Roger," cried the detective, with great energy, "let -us survey this case from a common-sense point of view. This man -couldn't have come down to Jarlchester to commit suicide; he could -have done that at Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps he wanted to spare his friends—if he had any—the pain of -knowing that he died by his own hand."</p> - -<p>"Rubbish! Suicides are not so considerate, as a rule. They generally -make away with themselves in a most public manner, so as to draw -attention to their wrongs. No, I can't and won't believe that this -man, who gave no hint of wishing to die, came down here to do so."</p> - -<p>"Then if he did not kill himself, who did?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's what I've got to find out."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and what if you don't find out."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps yes, perhaps no. Murder will out. Clever remark that. But to -continue: I always look on both sides of the question. It may be a -case of suicide."</p> - -<p>"It is a case of suicide. I believe the jury are right," said Roger, -firmly.</p> - -<p>"You seem very certain about it," remarked Fanks, a trifle annoyed.</p> - -<p>"I only judge from what I have heard."</p> - -<p>"Rumour, mere rumour."</p> - -<p>"Not at all. Facts, my friend, facts. I allude to the evidence at the -inquest."</p> - -<p>Octavius made no reply at first, but jumping up from his chair, began -to walk to and fro with a frown on his face.</p> - -<p>"I dare say you're right," he said, at length; "taking the evidence as -a whole, I suppose the jury could only bring in a verdict of suicide. -No one could have poisoned him. No one here knew him, therefore had no -reason to get rid of him. He took that morphia, opium, or whatever it -was, sure enough, and I firmly believe of his own free will. Judging -from that theory, it looks decidedly like suicide; but then, again, he -may have taken the morphia, not knowing it was poison. It could not -have been the pills, for they only contain arsenic. He might certainly -have taken morphia in order to get to sleep, as from all accounts he -suffered from insomnia—nerves, I suppose. But then some portion of -what he took would have been found, and if not that, then the bottle -that held the drug or sleeping draught; but nothing was found, -absolutely nothing. He is discovered dead from an overdose of morphia, -and no traces of morphia—bottle or otherwise—are found in his room. -If it was suicide, he would not have taken such precautions, seeing he -had nothing to gain by concealing the mode of his death. If it was -murder, some one must have administered it to him under the guise of a -harmless drug; but then no one here knew him, so no one could have -done so. You see, therefore, my dear Roger, from this statement of the -case, that I am absolutely at a stand still."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think you can do nothing, so your best plan is to accept the -verdict of suicide, and forget all about it."</p> - -<p>"And this pill-box?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you gain nothing from that except the name of the place where -the dead man bought it. If you go to the chemist you will find out his -name, certainly."</p> - -<p>"And the circumstances of his life also. You forget that."</p> - -<p>"No, I don't. But such discovery will hardly account for his murder -here. If you find out from your inquiries at Ironfields that the dead -man had an enemy, you will have to prove how that enemy came down here -and secretly poisoned him. Judging from all the evidence, there is no -trace of poison left behind, no one has been staying in this inn -except myself, so I really don't see how you are going to bring the -crime home to any particular person."</p> - -<p>Having finished this speech, Roger arose to his feet with a yawn, and -knocked the ashes out of his pipe against the mantelpiece.</p> - -<p>"Where are you going?" asked Fanks, stopping in his walk.</p> - -<p>"To bed, of course. I've had a long day."</p> - -<p>"You continue your walking tour to-morrow?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I start at ten o'clock. And you?"</p> - -<p>"I am going down to Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"On a wild-goose chase."</p> - -<p>"That remains to be proved," retorted Fanks, grimly.</p> - -<p>"I'm certain of it, so your wisest plan is to accept the inevitable -and give this case up," replied Axton, holding out his hand. "Good -night."</p> - -<p>"Good night, old boy," said Octavius, cordially. "I'm very pleased to -meet you again. By the way, don't let us lose sight of one another. My -address is Scotland Yard—my Fanks address, of course. And yours?"</p> - -<p>"Temple Chambers, Fleet Street."</p> - -<p>Out came Mr. Fanks' secretive little note-book, in which, he wrote -down the address with a gay laugh.</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! Like all literary men, you start with the law and leave it -for the profits."</p> - -<p>"Of poetry. Pshaw!"</p> - -<p>"Eh, who knows? Every scribbler carries the Laureate-ship in his -brain. By the way, if I see Miss Varlins at Ironfields, shall I give -her any message?"</p> - -<p>"No; she won't have anything to do with me," replied Roger, dismally. -"I've no doubt I'll get married some day, but it won't be to Judith -Varlins."</p> - -<p>"Ardent lover!" said Fanks, laughing. "Well, good night, and pleasant -dreams."</p> - -<p>"With that body upstairs. Ugh!" cried Roger Axton, and vanished with a -shudder.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks stood beside the dying fire, leaning his two elbows on the -mantelpiece, and thinking deeply.</p> - -<p>"He's very much altered," he thought, drearily. "Not the bright boy of -ten years ago. How trouble does change a man, and love also! I'll make -a point of seeing Miss Varlins when I go down to Ironfields. Rather a -dismal love story, but what the devil did he tell me two lies for?"</p> - -<p>He left the room, took his candle from Miss Chickles, and returned to -bed. As he closed the door of his room, his thoughts reverted to Roger -Axton once more.</p> - -<p>"He told me two deliberate lies," he thought, with a puzzled -expression on his face. "I could see that by his face, or, rather, his -manner. Humph! I don't like this."</p> - -<p>Having placed the candle on the dressing-table, Mr. Fanks sat down, -and having produced his secretive note-book, proceeded to make therein -a memorandum (in shorthand) of his conversation with Axton.</p> - -<p>No reason for doing so; certainly not. Still, name on pill-box, -Ironfields; residence of Judith Varlins, Ironfields. Curious -coincidence—very. Nothing may come of it. Highly improbable anything -could come of it. Still, those few lines of queer signs, recording an -unimportant conversation, may be of use in the future. Who knows? Ah, -who, indeed? There's a good deal in chance, and fate sometimes puts a -thread into our hands which conducts through tangled labyrinths to -unknown issues.</p> - -<p>"Two lies," said Mr. Fanks for the third time, as he rolled himself up -in the bed-clothes and blew out the candle. "He hadn't seen her since -Ventnor. He hadn't heard from her since Ventnor. Wonderful self-denial -for a young man in love. I'd like to know more about Roger's little -romance."</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts from a Detective's Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>"Can't make Axton out . . . Most curious conversation—inquisitive on -my part, evasive on his . . . He told me two lies . . . In fact, -during the whole conversation he seemed to be on his guard. . . . I -don't like the look of things . . . I have no right to pry into -Axton's affairs, but I can't understand his denials—denials which I -could tell from his manner were false . . . Queer thing about -Ironfields . . . The dead man came from Ironfields . . . Miss Varlins -lives at Ironfields . . . Qy. Can there be any connection between the -deceased and Miss Varlins? . . . Impossible, and yet it's very strange -. . . I don't like that open door either . . . That is extraordinary -. . . Then the letter written by the deceased . . . I asked at the -post office here about it . . . They could tell me nothing . . . I -wonder to whom that letter was sent? . . . I think it's the key to the -whole affair . . . Can Roger Axton be keeping anything from me? -. . . Did he know the dead man? . . . I am afraid to answer these -questions . . . Well, I'll go down to Ironfields and find out all -about the dead man . . . Perhaps my inquiries will lead me to Miss -Varlins . . . But no, there can be no connection, and yet I doubt -Roger . . . I mistrust him . . . I don't like his manner . . . his -evasive replies . . . And then he's connected with Miss Varlins—she -is connected with Ironfields . . . That is connected with the deceased -. . . All links in a chain . . . Most extraordinary.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To go at once to Ironfields."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_04" href="#div1Ref_04">Chapter 4</a></h4> -<h5>The Evidence of the Chemist's Assistant</h5> -<br> - -<p>Ironfields is not a pretty place; not even its warmest admirer could -say it was pretty, but then its warmest admirer would not want to say -anything of the kind. Well drained, well laid out, well lighted, it -could—according to the minds of its inhabitants—easily dispense -with such mere prettiness or picturesqueness as crooked-streeted, -gable-mansioned towns, dating from the Middle Ages, could boast of. -Poor things, those sleepy cathedral towns, beautified by the hand of -Time—poor things indeed compared with vast Ironfields, the outcome of -a manufacturing century and a utilitarian race! Ironfields with its -lines of ugly model houses, its broad, treeless streets, its muddy -river flowing under a hideous railway bridge, its mighty foundries -with their tall chimneys that belched forth smoke in the daytime, -and fire at night, and its ceaseless clamour that roared up to the -smoke-hidden sky six days in the week.</p> - -<p>The inhabitants were a race of Cyclops. Rough, swarthy men of -herculean build, scant of speech and of courtesy, worn-looking women, -with vinegary faces peering sharply at every one from under the shawls -they wore on their tousled heads, and tribes of squalling brats, with -just enough clothes for decency, grimy with the smoky, sooty -atmosphere, looking like legions of small devils as they played in the -barren streets, piercing the deafening clamour with their shrill, -unchildlike voices. A manufacturing town, inhabited by humanity with -no idea of beauty, with no desire beyond an increase of weekly wage, -or an extra drink at the public-house. Humanity with a hard, unlovely -religion expounded in hideous little chapels by fervid preachers of -severe principles. A glorious triumph of our highest civilisation, -this matter-of-fact city, with its creed of work, work, work, and its -eyes constantly on the sordid things of this earth, and never raised -to the blue sky of heaven. A glorious triumph indeed—for the -capitalists.</p> - -<p>When it rained—which it did frequently—Ironfields was sloppy, and -when Ironfields was sloppy it was detestable; for the rain coming down -through the smoky cloud that constantly lowered over the town, made -everything, if possible, more grimy than before. But Ironfields was -quite content; it was a name of note in commercial circles, and its -products went forth to the four quarters of the world, bringing back -in exchange plenty of money, of which a great deal found its way into -the pockets of the master, and very little into those of the man.</p> - -<p>The country around was not pretty. Nature, with that black, ugly, -clamorous city constantly before her eyes, lost heart in her work, and -did not attempt to place beauties before the eyes of people who did -not know anything about beauty, and would have thought it a very -useless thing if they had. So the fields lying round Ironfields were -only a shade better than the city itself, for the shadow of smoke lay -over everything, and where sunshine is not, cheerfulness is wanting.</p> - -<p>On one side of Ironfields, however, Nature had made a feeble attempt -to assert herself, but then it was in a queer little village which had -been the germ from whence arose this noisy town. In the old days the -queer little village had stood amid green fields beside a sparkling -river; but now the fields had disappeared, the sparkling river had -turned to a dull, muddy stream, and the little village was improved -out of all recognition. Like Frankenstein, it had created a monster -which dominated it entirely, which took away even its name and reduced -it from a quaint, pretty place, redolent of pastoral joys, to a dull -little suburb, mostly inhabited by poor people. True, beyond stood the -mansions of the Ironfields millionaires, glaring and unpicturesque, in -equally glaring gardens laid out with mathematical accuracy; but the -upper ten merely drove through the village on their way to these -Brummagem palaces, and did not acknowledge its existence in any way. -Yet a good many of their progenitors had lived in the dull suburb -before Ironfields was Ironfields, but they forgot all about that in -the enjoyment of their new-found splendours, and the miserable village -was now a kind of poor relation, unrecognised, uncared for, and very -much despised.</p> - -<p>In the principal street, narrow and winding, with old houses on either -side, standing like dismal ghosts of the past, was the chemist's shop, -a brand-new place, with plate-glass windows, and the name, "Wosk & -Co.," in bright gold letters on a bright blue ground. Behind the -plate-glass windows appeared huge bottles containing liquids red, and -yellow, and green in colour, which threw demoniacal reflections on the -faces of passers-by at night, when the gas flared behind them. All -kinds of patent medicines were there displayed to the best advantage; -bottles of tooth-brushes, cakes of Pears' soap, phials of queer -shape and wondrous virtue, sponges, jars of leeches, queer-looking -pipes compounded of glass and india-rubber tubing, packets of -fly-exterminators, and various other strange things pertaining to the -trade, all calling attention to their various excellencies in neat -little printed leaflets scattered promiscuously throughout.</p> - -<p>Within, a shining counter of mahogany laden with cures for the various -ills which flesh is heir to; and at the far end, a neat little glass -screen with a gas-jet on top, above which could be seen the gray-black -head of Mr. Wosk and the smooth red head of Mr. Wosk's assistant.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wosk (who was also the Co.) was a slender, serious man, always -clothed in black, with a sedate, black-bearded countenance, a habit of -washing his hands with invisible soap and water, and a rasping little -cough, which he introduced into his conversation at inopportune -moments. He would have made an excellent undertaker, an ideal mute, -for his cast of countenance was undeniably mournful, but Fate had -fitted this round peg of an undertaker into the square hole of a -chemist in a fit of perverse anger. He bore up, however, against his -uncongenial situation with dreary resignation, and dispensed his own -medicines with an air of saying, "I hope it will do you good, but I'm -afraid it won't." He was the pillar of the Church in a small way, and -stole round the chapel on Sundays with the plate in a melancholy -fashion, as if he was asking some good Christian to put some food on -the plate and despaired of getting it. Ebenezer was his name, and his -wife, an acidulated lady of uncertain age, ruled him with a rod of -iron, perhaps from the fact that she had no children over whom to -domineer.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Wosk, however, could not rule the assistant, much as she desired -to do so. Not that he made any show of opposition, but always twisted -this way and turned that in an eel-like fashion until she did not know -quite where to have him. In fact, the assistant ruled Mrs. Wosk (of -which rule she had a kind of uneasy consciousness), and as Mrs. Wosk -ruled Mr. Wosk, including the Co., M. Jules Guinaud may have been said -to have ruled the whole household.</p> - -<p>A hard name to pronounce, especially in Ironfields, where French was -in the main an unknown tongue, so suburban Ironfields, by common -consent, forgot the surname of the assistant, and called him, in -friendly fashion, Munseer Joolees, by which appellation he was known -for a considerable time. Mrs. Wosk, however, who meddled a good deal -with the shop and saw a good deal of the assistant, being learned in -Biblical lore (as the wife of a deacon should be), found a certain -resemblance suggested by the name and appearance of the assistant -between Munseer Joolees and Judas Iscariot, whereupon, with virulent -wit, she christened him by the latter name, and Monsieur Joolees -became widely known as Monsieur Judas, which name pleased the -Ironfields worthies, being easy to pronounce and containing a certain -epigrammatic flavour.</p> - -<p>The name suited him, too, this slender, undersized man with the -stealthy step of a cat; the unsteady greenish eyes that appeared to -see nothing, yet took in everything; the smooth, shining red hair -plastered tightly down on his egg-shaped skull; and the delicate, pink -and white-complexioned, hairless face that bore the impress of a kind -of evil beauty—yes, the name suited him admirably, and as he took no -exception to it, being in suburban Ironfields opinion an atheist, and -therefore ignorant of the Biblical significance of the title, nobody -thought of addressing him by any other.</p> - -<p>He spoke English moderately well, in a soft, sibilant voice with a -foreign accent, and sometimes used French words, which were Greek to -all around him. Expressive, too, in a pantomimic way, with his habit -of shrugging his sloping shoulders, his method of waving his slim -white hands when in conversation, and a certain talent in using his -eyes to convey his meaning. Lids drooping downwards, "I listen humbly -to your words of wisdom, monsieur." Suddenly raising them so as to -display full optic, "Yes, you may look at me; I am a most guileless -person." Narrowing to a mere slit, like the pupil of a cat's eye, -"Beware, I am dangerous," and so forth, all of which, in conjunction -with the aforesaid shrugs and pantomimic action of his hands, made the -conversation of Monsieur Judas very intelligible indeed, in spite of -his foreign accent and French observations.</p> - -<p>It was raining on this particular morning—seasonable weather, of -course; but as far as rain went, all the months were the same in -Ironfields, and a thick, black fog pervaded the atmosphere. A cold, -clammy fog, with a sooty flavour, that crept slowly through the -streets and into the houses, like a wounded snake dragging itself -along. Here and there pedestrians looming large in the opaque cloud -like gigantic apparitions, gas-lamps flaring drearily in the thick -air, cabs and carts and carriages all moving cautiously along like -endless funerals. And only two o'clock in the afternoon. Surely the -darkness which spread over the land of Egypt could be no worse than -this; nay, perhaps it was better, Egypt being tropical and lacking the -chill, unwholesome moisture which permeated the air, wrapping the -dingy houses, the noisy foundries, and the cheerless streets in a -dull, sodden pall.</p> - -<p>Gas glared in the shop of Wosk & Co., behind the glass doors, which -kept out as much of the fog as they were able—gas which gave forth a -dim, yellow light to Mr. Wosk behind the screen, looking over -prescriptions, and to Monsieur Judas at the counter making up neat -packages of medicine bottles. At the little window at the back which -looked into the Wosk dwelling-house, an occasional vision of Mrs. -Wosk's head appeared like that of a cross cherub, keeping her eye on -chemist and assistant.</p> - -<p>"Bur-r-r," says Monsieur Judas, blowing on his lean fingers, "it is to -me the most coldness of times. Aha! le brouillard! it makes itself to -be all the places to-day."</p> - -<p>"Seasonable, seasonable!" murmurs Mr. Wosk, washing his hands in a -contemplative fashion. "Good for—ahem!—good for business—that is, -business in our line—ahem!"</p> - -<p>"Eh, Monsieur Vosks! mais oui, mon ami," answered the Frenchman, -raising his eyebrows, "and for de—what you call de coffins man. -L'homme des funerailles."</p> - -<p>"That, ahem!" said Mr. Wosk, with his rasping cough, "is what we -must try and prevent. The undertaker—not coffins man, Monsieur -Judas, that is not—ahem—correct Anglo-Saxon—is the last, the -very last resource of a sick man. Prevention—ahem—in the person -of ourselves is better than—ahem—dear me—I don't think the remark -is app—ahem—applicable."</p> - -<p>At this moment the glass doors opened to admit a stranger, enveloped -in a comfortable fur coat, and also gave admission to a cloud of fog -that had been waiting for the opportunity for some time. The stranger -made his appearance like a Homeric deity, in a cloudy fashion, and -when the attendant fog dispersed, Monsieur Judas (inquisitive) and Mr. -Wosk (mournfully indifferent) saw that he was a keen-faced young -gentleman with a sharp, decisive manner.</p> - -<p>"Wosk & Co., eh!" queried the stranger, who was none other than Mr. -Octavius Fanks.</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir," said Mr. Wosk, advancing, "the name—ahem—my name, sir, -is in front of the—the shop, sir."</p> - -<p>"So is the fog," replied the detective, drily, leaning over the -counter. "I could hardly see the shop, much less the name."</p> - -<p>"De fog is still heavier, monsieur?" said Judas, taking in the -appearance of Mr. Fanks in a comprehensive fashion.</p> - -<p>Octavius swung sharply round at the sound of the foreign voice, -and instantly took an intuitive dislike to the appearance of the -red-haired young man.</p> - -<p>"Oui," he replied, looking at him sharply; "n'êtes-vous pas Français?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur a beaucoup de pénétration," said Judas, startled at hearing -his own tongue.</p> - -<p>His eyes had narrowed into those dangerous slits which betokened that -he was on his guard against this clever—too clever Englishman. The -two men looked at one another steadily for a moment, and two ideas -flashed rapidly through their respective minds.</p> - -<p>The Fanks idea, suggested by the suspicious appearance (to a -detective) of Monsieur Judas:</p> - -<p>"This man has a past, and is always on his guard."</p> - -<p>The Guinaud idea, inspired by a naturally suspicious nature:</p> - -<p>"This Englishman is a possible enemy. I must be careful."</p> - -<p>There was really no ground for such uncomplimentary ideas on the part -of these two men who now met for the first time, except that -instinctive repulsion which springs from the collision of two natures -antipathetic to one another.</p> - -<p>Mr. Wosk, being warned by the apparition of Mrs. Wosk's head at the -little window that he was wasting time, addressed himself at once to -his customer in a business fashion:</p> - -<p>"What can I do for you, sir?"</p> - -<p>Octavius withdrew his eyes from the face of the assistant, and -producing a pill-box, laid it down on the counter before Mr. Wosk.</p> - -<p>"I want to know the name of the gentleman for whom you made up these -pills."</p> - -<p>"Rather difficult to say, sir," said Mr. Wosk, taking up the box; "we -make up so many boxes like this."</p> - -<p>"They were made up for a gentleman who left Ironfields shortly -afterwards."</p> - -<p>The chemist, never very clear-headed at any time, looked perfectly -bewildered at being called upon to make such a sudden explanation, and -turned helplessly to his assistant, who stood working at his medicine -bottles with downcast eyes.</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid—ahem—really, my memory is so bad," he faltered, -childishly; "well, I scarcely—ahem—but I think Monsieur Judas will -be able to tell you all about it. I have the—ahem—I have the fullest -confidence in Monsieur Judas."</p> - -<p>"It's more than I should have," thought Fanks, as the assistant -silently took the pill-box from his master and opened it.</p> - -<p>"Eight pilules," he said, counting them.</p> - -<p>"Yes, eight pills," replied Fanks, taking a seat by the counter, "but, -of course, when you made up the prescription there must have been -more."</p> - -<p>"De monsieur weeth de pilules did he geeve dem to monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"No; I want to know the gentleman's name."</p> - -<p>"An' for wy, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Never you mind," retorted Octavius, coolly; "you do what you're -asked, my good fellow."</p> - -<p>The "good fellow" gave Mr. Fanks an ugly look; but in another moment -was bland and smiling as ever. Mr. Wosk (beckoned by the cherub's -head) had gone into the back premises, so the two men were quite -alone, of which circumstance Mr. Fanks took advantage by speaking to -Monsieur Judas in French, in order to understand him better.</p> - -<p>Translated, the conversation (guarded on both sides by mutual -suspicion) was as follows:</p> - -<p>"Will monsieur permit me to ask him a few questions? Otherwise," said -Judas, with a shrug, "I cannot hope to find the name monsieur -requires."</p> - -<p>"Ask whatever questions you like."</p> - -<p>"Does monsieur know when the gentleman left this town?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks made a rapid calculation, and answered promptly: "I'm not -quite sure; after the 6th and before the 13th of the present month. -But your best plan will be to go back from the 13th of November."</p> - -<p>"Certainly, monsieur."</p> - -<p>Judas disappeared behind the neat screen, and rapidly turned up the -order book beginning with the 13th of November, as directed.</p> - -<p>"They are tonic pills, I see, monsieur," he called out.</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is marked on the box."</p> - -<p>In another moment Fanks heard an exclamation of surprise behind the -screen, and shortly afterwards Monsieur Judas emerged, carrying the -order book with him. He was visibly agitated, and his lean hands -trembled as he placed the book on the counter.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?" asked Fanks, suspiciously, rising to his feet.</p> - -<p>"I will explain to monsieur later on," said Judas, with a sickly -smile. "At present, however, here is what you want. These pills were -made up for Monsieur Sebastian Melstane."</p> - -<p>"Sebastian Melstane," muttered Fanks, thoughtfully. "Oh, that was his -name."</p> - -<p>"Yes, Sebastian Melstane," said Judas, slowly. "He bought these pills -on the 11th of November, and went down to Jarlchester the next day."</p> - -<p>"How do you know he went to Jarlchester?" asked Fanks, considerably -startled.</p> - -<p>"Because I know Sebastian Melstane, monsieur. We lodged at the same -pension. He makes me the confidence that he was going to that place, -and, I believe, took these pills with him. Now you have the box, but -my friend, where is he?"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas threw out his hands with a fine dramatic gesture, and -fixed his crafty eyes on the impassive face of the detective.</p> - -<p>"Do you read the papers?" asked Octavius, with great deliberation.</p> - -<p>"Yes; but I read English so bad."</p> - -<p>"Get some one to translate for you, then," said Fanks, coolly, "and -you will see that an unknown man committed suicide at Jarlchester. -That man was Sebastian Melstane."</p> - -<p>"Gave himself the death?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; read the papers. By the way, Monsieur Judas that is your name, I -believe—as you knew Sebastian Melstane, I may want to ask you some -questions about him."</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas pulled out a card with some writing on it and handed it -to Fanks with a flourish.</p> - -<p>"My name, monsieur—my habitation, monsieur! If monsieur will do me -the honour to call at my pension, I will tell him whatever he desires -to know."</p> - -<p>"Humph! I'm afraid that's beyond your power, M. Guinaud," replied -Fanks, glancing at the card. "However, I'll call round this evening at -eight o'clock; but at present I want to know about these pills."</p> - -<p>"They were bought by my friend on the 11th," said Judas, showing the -entry. "Behold, monsieur, the book speaks it."</p> - -<p>"Who signed the prescription?"</p> - -<p>"A doctor, monsieur, a doctor. I cannot say the name, it is hard for -my tongue; but, monsieur"—struck with a sudden idea—"you shall see -his own writing."</p> - -<p>Once more he vanished behind the screen, and shortly afterwards -reappeared with a sheet of note-paper, which he placed before -Octavius.</p> - -<p>"There it is, monsieur."</p> - -<p>Fanks took up the paper, and read as follows:</p> -<br> -<div style="margin-left:10%; font-size:smaller"> -R. Acid. Arsen. gi.<br> -Pulv. Glycyrrh. gr. xv.<br>Ext. Glycyrrh. gr. xxx.<br> -Misce et divide in pilule.<br> -No. XII.<br> -Sig. Tonic pills.<br> -One to be taken before retiring nightly.<br> -Jacob Japix, M.D. -</div> -<br> -<p>"I see you made up twelve pills," said Fanks, after he had perused -this document.</p> - -<p>"Yes, monsieur, twelve pills. It is the usual number." Octavius looked -thoughtful for a moment, then, turning his back on the assistant, -walked to the door, where he stood gazing out at the fog, and thinking -deeply in this fashion: "There were twelve pills in the box when -Melstane bought it on the 11th of this month. According to his -statement to Miss Chickles he took a tonic pill regularly every night. -On the 11th, therefore, he took one. Left Ironfields on the 12th, and -must have slept in London, as the journey is so long. There he took -another pill; and at Jarlchester, on the 13th, he took a third. Dr. -Drewey analysed three pills, so that's six accounted for out of the -twelve. Exactly half, so there ought only to be six left. But there -are eight in the box now. Good Heavens! what is the meaning of those -two extra pills?"</p> - -<p>Turning sharply round, he walked back to the counter.</p> - -<p>"Are you sure you are not making a mistake?" he said, quickly; "you -must have made up fourteen pills."</p> - -<p>"But, monsieur, behold!" said Judas, pointing to the prescription, -"No. XII."</p> - -<p>"Yes, that's twelve, sure enough," observed Fanks, trying to appear -calm, but feeling excited at the thought that he had stumbled on some -tangible evidence at last.</p> - -<p>"Did you make up the pills?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I myself, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"And you are sure you only made up twelve?"</p> - -<p>"On my word of honour, monsieur," said Judas, opening his eyes with -their guileless look; "but I do not ask monsieur to believe me if he -has doubt. Eh, my faith, no! Monsieur my master also counted the -pills."</p> - -<p>"That is the custom, I believe," said Mr. Fanks, thoughtfully, "a kind -of check."</p> - -<p>"But certainly, monsieur, without doubt."</p> - -<p>At this moment, as if he knew his presence was required, Mr. Wosk -walked into the shop, whereupon Monsieur Judas at once explained the -matter to him.</p> - -<p>"My assistant is—ahem—correct," said Mr. Wosk, sadly, as if he -rather regretted it than otherwise. "I remember Mr. Melstane's tonic -pills, and I—ahem—did count them. There were—ahem—twelve."</p> - -<p>"You are sure?"</p> - -<p>"I am certain."</p> - -<p>"An' I to myself can assure it," remarked Judas, in English; "but if -monsieur would make to himself visits at monsieur le docteur, he could -know exactly of the numbers. Eh bien. Je le crois."</p> - -<p>"Where does Dr. Japix live?" asked Fanks, picking up the pill-box and -putting it in his pocket. "I will call round and see him."</p> - -<p>Mr. Wosk wrote out the address and handed it to the detective with a -bow.</p> - -<p>"There's nothing wrong with the—ahem—medicine, I trust," he said, -nervously. "I am—ahem—most careful, and my assistant, Monsieur -Judas, is much to be—ahem—trusted."</p> - -<p>"I don't know if anything's wrong with these pills," said Octavius, -touching his breast coat-pocket, "but you know the saying, 'There is -more in this than meets the eye.' Shakespeare, you observe. Wonderful -man—appropriate remark for everything. Monsieur Guinaud, I will see -you to-night. Mr. Wosk, to-morrow expect me about these pills. Good -afternoon."</p> - -<p>When he had vanished into the fog, which he did as soon as he went -outside, Mr. Wosk turned to his assistant with some alarm.</p> - -<p>"I trust, Monsieur Judas, that the pills—the pills—"</p> - -<p>"They are in themselves qui' right. Eh! oh, yes," replied Monsieur -Judas, letting his eyelids droop over his eyes. "To-morrow I to you -will speke of dis—dis—eh! le mystère—vous savez, monsieur. Le -Mystère Jarlcesterre."</p> - -<p>"That thing in the paper," cried Mr. Wosk, aghast. "Why—ahem—what -has it got to do—ahem—with us?"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas shrugged his shoulders, spread out his hands with a -deprecating gesture, and spoke slowly:</p> - -<p>"Eh, le voila! I myself am no good to rread les journaux anglais—les -feuilletons. If you so kine vil be to me, monsieur, an' rread de -Mystère Jarleesterre, I vil to you explin moch, eh! Il est bien -entendu."</p> - -<p>"But what has the Jarlchester Mystery got to do with us?" repeated Mr. -Wosk, helplessly, like a large child.</p> - -<p>"Eh, mon ami, qui sait?" replied Monsieur Judas, enraged at his -master's stupidity. "De man dead is he who took ze pilules."</p> - -<p>"Sebastian Melstane!" cried Mr. Wosk, thunder-struck.</p> - -<p>"Oui, c'est le nom!"</p> - -<p>And Monsieur Judas narrowed his eyes, spread out his lean hands, and -smiled complacently at the look of horror on the face of Mr. Wosk.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_05" href="#div1Ref_05">Chapter 5</a></h4> -<h5>Dr. Japix Speaks</h5> -<br> - -<p>Octavius Fanks had no difficulty in finding the residence of Dr. Jacob -Japix, for that kind-hearted gentleman was well known in Ironfields, -not alone in the village suburb, but throughout the great city itself, -where his beaming face, his cheery words, and his open hand were much -appreciated, especially in the quarters of the poor. Not a -professional philanthropist, this large man with the large heart, for -he laboured among poverty and vice from an innate desire to do good, -and not from any hope that his works would be blazoned forth in the -papers. He had no wife, no family, no relations, so he devoted his -money, his time, and his talents to the service of paupers who could -not afford to give anything in return except gratitude, and did not -always give even that.</p> - -<p>Of course, he had rich patients also. Oh, yes! many rich people came -to Jacob Japix to be cured, and generally went away satisfied, for he -was a clever physician, having the eye of a hawk and the intuition of -a Galen for all kinds of mysterious diseases. But the money which the -rich took from the poor in the way of scant payment for labour done -went back to the pockets of the poor via Dr. Japix, so he illustrated -in his own small way the law of compensation.</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks knew this doctor very well, having met him in connection -with a celebrated poisoning case at Manchester, where he had attended -as a witness in the character of an expert. Octavius, therefore, was -very much delighted at chance having thrown Japix in his way for this -special affair, as he was beginning to be troubled with vague fears -the existence of which he persistently refused to acknowledge to -himself.</p> - -<p>Dr. Japix, being a big man, inhabited a big house just on the -outskirts of the town, and on ringing a noisy bell, Octavius was -admitted by a big footman, who said, in a big voice, that the Doctor -was engaged at present, but would be at liberty soon. And soon it -was, for just as the big footman was about to show Fanks into the -waiting-room—on the right—a party of three (two ladies and one -gentleman), accompanied by Japix, emerged from a door on the left.</p> - -<p>One lady was tall, dark, and stately, with a serious cast of -countenance; the other, small, fair, and vivacious, a veritable fairy, -all sparkle and sunshine; and the gentleman was a long, lean man with -a saturnine expression, not by any means prepossessing. Burly Dr. -Japix with his big frame, his big voice, and his big laugh, -accompanied the trio to the door, talking in a subdued roar the whole -time.</p> - -<p>"We'll set him up—set him up, Miss Florry, never fear—nerves—pooh! -ha! ha! ha! nerves in a bridegroom. Who ever heard of such a thing?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, but you see you're a bachelor," said the golden-haired fairy, -gaily; "a horrid old bachelor, who doesn't know anything except how to -give people nasty medicine."</p> - -<p>"Hey! now, ha! ha! that's too bad. I always make your medicine nice. -Wait till you're a matron, I'll make it nasty."</p> - -<p>"When I'm a matron," said Miss Florry, demurely, "I'll take no -medicine except Spolger's Soother," at which speech the Doctor -laughed, the lean man scowled, and the two ladies attended by the -scowl, departed, while the Doctor turned to greet his new visitor.</p> - -<p>"Well, sir—well, sir—ha! may I be condemned to live on my own physic -if it isn't M. Vidocq."</p> - -<p>"Eh, my dear Doctor, me voici. Dumas, my dear physician; you've read -'The Three Musqueteers,' of course."</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! if you start quoting already," roared Japix, rolling -ponderously into his study, followed by Fanks, "I give in at once; -your memory, Mr. Thief-catcher, is cast-iron, and mine isn't. So I -surrender at discretion. Now I'll be bound," continued the Doctor, -waggishly, sitting in his huge chair, "you don't know where the -quotation comes from."</p> - -<p>"I don't," replied Fanks, after a moment's thought, sitting down; "you -score one, my dear Doctor. By the way, don't call me Thief-catcher."</p> - -<p>"Certainly not, Jonathan Wild."</p> - -<p>"Nor that either."</p> - -<p>"Why not, M. Fouche?"</p> - -<p>"The third is the worst of all. At present I'm nothing but Mr. -Rixton—my own name, Dr. Japix, as I told you."</p> - -<p>"And Octavius Fanks?"</p> - -<p>"Is in the Seventh Circle of Hell—at the back of the North Wind—in -Nubibus—anywhere except where Mr. Rixton is."</p> - -<p>"Ha! ha! hey! You're down here on business!"</p> - -<p>"Private business."</p> - -<p>"Ho! ho! and her name?"</p> - -<p>"Mary Anne. She's a housemaid, and I love her, oh, I love her, and her -heart I would discover! Pish! pshaw! 'Hence, vain deluding joys.' -Milton, my dear Doctor! his best poem. But really, I want to be -serious."</p> - -<p>"Be serious, by all means," said Japix, complacently; "business first, -pleasure afterwards. Dine with me to-night!"</p> - -<p>"No, I've got an engagement. Say seven to-morrow, and I accept."</p> - -<p>"'When found make a note of,'" remarked the Doctor, and scribbled a -few lines in his memoranda-book. "Eh! Author?"</p> - -<p>"Dickens' Captain Cuttle."</p> - -<p>"Very good—go up top."</p> - -<p>"Are you going to be serious?" said Fanks, in despair.</p> - -<p>"My dear Rixton, I am serious," replied Dr. Japix, composing his -features; "proceed!"</p> - -<p>"First, who were the people who left as I came in?"</p> - -<p>"Now what the deuce do you want to know that for?" said Japix, looking -puzzled.</p> - -<p>"Because I think one lady is Miss Judith Varlins, and the other Miss -Florry Marson."</p> - -<p>"Correct so far; but how the—"</p> - -<p>"And the gentleman's name, Japix? The lean, lank man that looks like -the Ancient Mariner in his shore clothes."</p> - -<p>"Jackson Spolger, a patent medicine millionaire. Inherited it from -Papa Spolger. Large fortune, disagreeable man, engaged to marry Miss -Marson."</p> - -<p>"Biography in a nutshell," said Fanks, calmly; "but surely not -engaged."</p> - -<p>"Why not? Are you in love with her yourself?"</p> - -<p>"No; but I thought Sebastian Melstane—"</p> - -<p>Dr. Japix uttered an ejaculation not complimentary to Mr. Melstane, -and turned fiercely on Fanks.</p> - -<p>"Sebastian Melstane be—"</p> - -<p>"Don't," interrupted Octavius, holding up a warning hand; "perhaps he -is already."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"He is dead."</p> - -<p>"Dead!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; haven't you read the Jarlchester Mystery?"</p> - -<p>"That suicide business. Of course; but I did not think—"</p> - -<p>"The dead man was Melstane. Neither did I until an hour ago."</p> - -<p>"How did you find out?" asked Japix, gravely.</p> - -<p>"By means of this," answered Fanks, placing the pill-box on the table.</p> - -<p>"Tonic pills," read Dr. Japix, wonderingly, "eh! Oh, yes, of course; I -prescribed tonic pills for Melstane's nerves. But I don't see how you -found out his name by this, nor how you connect the name of that scamp -Melstane with the man who died at Jarlchester."</p> - -<p>"Was Melstane a scamp?"</p> - -<p>"Out and out," said Japix, emphatically.</p> - -<p>"He must have been bad if you speak ill of him," observed Fanks, -reflectively; "kind of man to have enemies, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"I should say plenty."</p> - -<p>"Humph! I dare say."</p> - -<p>"Dare say what? Talk about the Jarlchester Mystery, what are you?"</p> - -<p>"A mystery also, eh, Doctor?" said Fanks, with a smile. "Well, I won't -give you the trouble of guessing me. I'll explain myself."</p> - -<p>The Doctor settled himself in his large chair, placed his large hands -on each of his large knees, and observed in his large voice:</p> - -<p>"Now then!"</p> - -<p>Whereupon Octavius told him his experience during the Jarlchester -inquest, suppressed the conversation and the name of Roger Axton, and -finished up by describing how he had discovered the dead man's name -from Wosk & Co.</p> - -<p>"So you see, Japix," said the detective, decisively, "I saw your name -on the prescription, and came at once to see you, as I want you to -analyse these eight pills. According to your prescription, according -to Mr. Wosk, according to the assistant, twelve pills were made up and -delivered to Melstane. I can account for half of the twelve, so that -ought to leave six; but in that box you will find eight. Now that is -not right!"</p> - -<p>"Certainly not!" remarked the Doctor, gravely regarding the pills; -"six from twelve do not leave eight—at least, not by the rules of any -arithmetic I'm acquainted with."</p> - -<p>"So there are two extra pills."</p> - -<p>"So I see! Two extra pills not made up by Wosk & Co."</p> - -<p>"Now the question is," said Fanks, seriously, laying his hand on one -of the Doctor's large knees, "the question is: What do those two extra -pills mean?"</p> - -<p>The Doctor said nothing, but looked inquiringly at the pill-box, as if -he expected it to answer.</p> - -<p>"I own," resumed Fanks, leaning back in his chair, "I own that I was -half inclined to agree with the verdict of the jurors; it looked like -suicide, but I had a kind of uneasy feeling that looks in this case -were deceptive, so I thought I would like to know the name of the dead -man, in order to find out if there was anything in his past life -likely to lead him to self-destruction. I found the name, as I have -told you, and I also discovered that there are two extra pills in that -box, which have been added after it left the hands of Wosk & Co.—you -understand."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly."</p> - -<p>"Now, those pills cannot have been added by Melstane, as he had no -reason to do so. Twelve pills are enough for a man even with nerves, -so why should he make those twelve into fourteen?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, why, indeed?" said Japix, ponderously. "And your theory?"</p> - -<p>"Is simply this. You say Melstane was a scamp; naturally he must have -had enemies. Now I firmly believe that the two extra pills contain -poison—say morphia, of which Melstane died—and they were placed in -the box surreptitiously by one of his enemies."</p> - -<p>"Natural enough."</p> - -<p>"Melstane," continued Fanks, impressively, leaning forward, "took one -of those extra pills, according to his usual custom, before going to -bed, quite innocent of doing himself any harm. In the morning Melstane -is found dead, and there is no evidence to show how he came by his -death."</p> - -<p>"Horrible! Horrible!"</p> - -<p>"But observe," said Fanks, emphasizing his remarks with his -forefinger, "observe how 'vaulting ambition o'er-leaps itself.' Again -our divine William, Doctor. In other words, observe how the anxiety of -the murderer to ensure the death of his victim has led to a danger of -his own discovery. If he—I allude to the murderer—had put in one -pill, making thirteen—which would have been a lucky number for our -undiscovered criminal—the victim would have taken it, and absolutely -no trace could have been discovered. Unluckily, however, for the -criminal, he, afraid one morphia pill may not effectively do the work, -puts in two morphia pills. Result, Sebastian Melstane, in perfect -innocence, takes one and dies. The other pill—damning evidence, my -dear Doctor—is one of the eight in that box, and I want you to -analyse the whole eight pills in order to find that special one."</p> - -<p>"And suppose I don't find it?" said Japix, putting the box on the -table.</p> - -<p>"In that case my theory falls to the ground, and Sebastian Melstane's -death will remain a mystery to all men. But as sure as I sit here, Dr. -Japix, you will find a deadly morphia pill among those seven harmless -tonic pills."</p> - -<p>"Your theory," remarked Japix, heavily, "is remarkably ingenious, and -may—mind you, I don't say it is—but may be correct. I will analyse -these pills, and let you know the result to-morrow. If I find here," -said the Doctor, laying one massive hand on the pill-box, "if I find -here a morphia pill, it will establish your theory in a certain -sense."</p> - -<p>"I think it will establish my theory in every sense," retorted Fanks, -impetuously.</p> - -<p>Dr. Japix shook his large head slowly, and delivered himself -oracularly:</p> - -<p>"Let us not," he said, looking at Fanks from under his shaggy -eyebrows, "let us not jump to conclusions. I may find a morphia pill, -but harmless."</p> - -<p>"Deadly."</p> - -<p>"Possibly harmless," said Japix, firmly.</p> - -<p>"Probably deadly," rejoined Octavius, stubbornly.</p> - -<p>"If deadly," continued the Doctor, quietly, "I grant your theory is a -correct one, and that Sebastian Melstane met his death at the hands of -the person who put those two extra pills in the box. If harmless, -however," said Japix, raising his voice, "it establishes nothing. -Melstane may have suffered from sleeplessness. Seeing his nerves were -all wrong, I should say it was very probable he did, and taken morphia -pills—purchased from, perhaps, a London chemist—in order to get a -good night's rest."</p> - -<p>"But why two morphia pills?" objected Octavius, earnestly. "Chemists -don't sell morphia pills in twos."</p> - -<p>"Your objection, sir, is not without some merit," said Japix, -approvingly. "Still these two pills may have been the balance of -another box, and placed in this one so as to obviate the trouble of -carrying two boxes."</p> - -<p>"Possible, certainly, but not probable. No, no, my dear Doctor, you -need not try to upset my theory. Wait till you analyse those pills."</p> - -<p>"I shall do so to-night, and to-morrow you will have my answer."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you didn't give Melstane any morphia pills?" said Fanks, as -he arose to take his leave.</p> - -<p>"No; I don't believe in morphia pills for sleepless people, except in -extreme cases. I generally give chloral, as I did to Mr. Jackson -Spolger to-day."</p> - -<p>"Oh, the Ancient Mariner," said Octavius, carelessly. "Does he suffer -from sleeplessness?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; on account of his approaching marriage, I presume."</p> - -<p>"With Miss Marson?"</p> - -<p>"Exactly."</p> - -<p>"By the way," observed Fanks, suddenly, "was she not engaged to -Melstane?"</p> - -<p>"No, not engaged exactly," replied Japix, thoughtfully; "but she was -in love with him. Strange how women adore scamps. But it's a long -story, my dear Rixton. To-morrow night, when we both dine, across the -walnuts and the wine, I'll tell to thee the tale divine. Ha, ha! you -see I'm a poet, eh?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and a plagiarist also. The second line is Tennyson."</p> - -<p>"Really, Mr. Bucket—Dickens, you observe—you're as sharp after a -rhyme, as after a thief. With your active brain, I wonder you don't -suffer from insomnia."</p> - -<p>"When I do I'll come to you for morphia pills," said Octavius, -laughing: "not the sort in that box, though. I don't want to die yet."</p> - -<p>"I don't believe in morphia pills," remarked Japix, rising to -accompany his guest to the door. "I never prescribe them. Oh, yes, by -the way, I did prescribe some for a Mr. Axton."</p> - -<p>Octavius, who was going out of the door, turned suddenly round with a -cry of horror.</p> - -<p>"Roger Axton!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; do you know him? Why, good gracious, what's the matter?"</p> - -<p>For Octavius Fanks, trembling in every limb, had sunk into a chair -near the door.</p> - -<p>"Are you ill? Are you ill?" roared the Doctor, anxiously. "Here, let -me get you some brandy."</p> - -<p>"No, no!" said Fanks, recovering himself with a great effort, though -his face was as pale as death. "I'm all right. I—I used to know Roger -Axton, and the name startled me."</p> - -<p>"Unpleasant associations," growled Japix, rubbing his large head in a -vexed manner. "I hope not—dear, dear—I trust not. I liked the young -fellow. A good lad—a very good lad."</p> - -<p>Fanks at once hastened to dispel the Doctor's distrust.</p> - -<p>"No! nothing unpleasant," he said, hurriedly: "he was my schoolfellow, -and I haven't seen him for ten years."</p> - -<p>Not a word about the meeting at Jarlchester, even to genial Dr. Japix, -for the vague fears which had haunted the detective's mind were now -taking a terrible shape—terrible to himself, more terrible to Roger -Axton.</p> - -<p>"I did not know Axton had been at Ironfields," he said at length, in a -hesitating manner.</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, bless you! he was here for some time," cried Japix, -cheerily; "I saw a good deal of him."</p> - -<p>"What was his reason for staying down here?"</p> - -<p>"Aha, aha!" thundered Japix, roguishly, "eh! you saw the reason leave -my house to-day. A dark, queenly reason, and as good as gold."</p> - -<p>"You allude to Miss Varlins."</p> - -<p>"Of course. Ho! ho! 'Love's young dream.' Tommy Moore's remark, eh! -'Nothing half so sweet in life.' No doubt. I have no practical -experience of it myself, being a bachelor; but Axton! ah! he thought -Moore was right, I'll swear, when he was beside Judith Varlins."</p> - -<p>Every word that dropped from the good Doctor's lips seemed to add to -that hideous terror in the detective's mind, and he could hardly frame -his next question, so paralysed he was by the fearful possibility of -"what might be."</p> - -<p>"I suppose she loves him?"</p> - -<p>"Dear, dear! Now that's exactly what I don't know," said Japix, in a -vexed tone; "she does and she doesn't. I was afraid she loved Mr. -Scamp Melstane, you know. Women are riddles, eh—yes, worse than the -Sphinx. She was with him a good deal, she wrote him letters and all -that sort of thing, but it might have been friendship. I don't -understand women, you see, I'm a bachelor."</p> - -<p>This last speech of the Doctor's seemed too much for Octavius, and he -felt anxious to get outside even into the fog and rain in order to -breathe. He was so confused by what he had heard that he was afraid to -open his lips, lest some word detrimental to his old schoolfellow -should escape them. Hastily shaking the Doctor by the hand, he made a -hurried promise to see him on the morrow.</p> - -<p>"Fog and rain," roared the physician, as Octavius stepped outside; -"must expect that now. Eh! ha! ho! ha! November smiles and November -tears—principally tears. Yes. Don't forget to-morrow night—the -pills—certainly. I will remember. Good-bye. Keep your feet dry. Warm -feet and good repose, slam the door on the doctor's nose."</p> - -<p>And Japix illustrated his little rhyme by slamming his own door, -behind which his big voice could still be heard like distant thunder.</p> - -<p>In the fog, in the rain, in the darkness, Octavius Fanks, stopping by -a lighted shop-window, pulled out his pocket-book and looked at the -memorandum—in shorthand—he had made of his conversation with Roger -Axton.</p> - -<p>In another moment he had restored the book to its former place, and -from his lips there came a low cry of anguish:</p> - -<p>"Oh, my old schoolfellow, has it come to this?"</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From A Detectives Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>"It is too terrible . . . I can't believe it . . . He did lie to me, -as I thought . . . He has been to Ironfields. He knew the name of -Melstane . . . What was he doing at Jarlchester? . . . Why was he -there at the same time, in the same house as Melstane? . . . He must -have known that the man who died was Melstane . . . He slept in the -next room on the night of the murder . . . The door of Melstane's room -was ajar in the morning . . . Could Roger have gone into the room and -. . . No, no; I can't believe it . . . He would not commit a crime -. . . And yet he had morphia pills in his possession . . . What -prevented him from getting two pills made extra strong . . . going -into Melstane's room at night, and placing them in the box? . . . His -motive for doing such a thing? . . . Dr. Japix supplies even that -. . . He saw in Melstane a possible rival and wanted him out of the -way . . . But what am I writing? . . . He cannot be guilty of this -terrible crime . . . Yet everything points to it . . . his presence at -Jarlchester . . . his possession of morphia . . . his evasive answers -. . . I must find out the truth . . . I can't believe he would act -thus, and yet . . .</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To write to Axton's London address at once."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_06" href="#div1Ref_06">Chapter 6</a></h4> -<h5>Monsieur Judas is Confidential</h5> -<br> - -<p>A short distance from the mansion of Dr. Japix, on the road which ran -from Ironfields to the dwellings of the magnates of the city, stood a -large, square stone house in a dreary piece of ground. The house -itself was also remarkably dreary, being painted a dull gray, with all -the windows and doors dismally picked out in black. Two stories it -was, with five windows in the top story facing the road, four windows -and a door with a porch in the lower, and still deeper down the -basements guarded at the sides of the house by spiky iron railings of -a most resentful appearance. The garden in front had a broad walk -running down to a rusty iron gate, on either side a plot of rank green -grass, and in the centre of each churchyard-looking plot a tall, -solemn cypress. The four lower windows opened like doors directly on -to the grass-plots, but were always closed, as Mrs. Binter -(proprietress of this charming establishment) thought egress by the -funereal front door was quite sufficient.</p> - -<p>Over the porch was a broad whiteboard, whereon was inscribed in grim -black letters, "Binter's Boarding-house," and although the sight of -the unwholesome house was enough to scare timid mortals, Binter's was -generally well stocked, and the proprietress did fairly well in her -particular line of overcharging and underfeeding.</p> - -<p>A tall, gaunt, grim person was Mrs. Binter, arrayed in a -severe-looking dress of a dull gray colour (like the house), and -picked out in black (also like the house) by wearing an inky ribbon -round her throat, a jet-trimmed gauze cap on her iron-gray hair, and -rusty black mittens on her lean hands. She also wore round her narrow -waist a thin belt of black leather, attached to which by a steel chain -was a large bunch of keys, which so jingled when she walked, that in -the twilight one could easily believe that Binter's was haunted by a -gaunt ghost clanking its rusty chain through the dreary passages.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Binter's papa (long since deceased) had been a warder in the -county jail, and his one fair daughter having been brought up with an -intimate knowledge of prison life, had so accustomed herself to view -the world through the bars of a jail, that she had become quite imbued -with the routine, the traditions, and the spirit of a first-class -penitentiary. It might have been hereditary, it might have been -habitual, but Mrs. Binter was certainly very jail-like in all her -ways. Having captured Mr. Binter (who had no mind of his own), she -made him marry her, and for the rest of his life relegated him to the -basement, where he did all the work of a "boots" without the wages of -one. His wife looked after the boarders, whom she treated like -prisoners, presiding at her own table, where the food was very plain -and very wholesome, seeing that they were in bed in their little cells -at a proper hour, and altogether conducting the establishment in as -near a manner approaching the paternal system as she was able.</p> - -<p>Binter's was usually full, as Mrs. B. always advertised it as being in -the country, and the worked-to-death clerks of Ironfields were glad to -get a breath of fresh air, even when attended by the inconvenience of -living in a private jail. But in the evenings all the prison-boarders -generally went out on a kind of ticket-of-leave (the understanding -being that they were to be in before midnight), and Mrs. Binter had -the whole of her private jail to herself.</p> - -<p>On this evening, however, all the boarders had gone out with the -exception of Monsieur Judas, who was seated in a little cell (called -by courtesy the drawing-room), before a feeble little fire which -cowered in a large, cold grate. The room was scantily furnished in a -very substantial fashion, the chairs very straight in the backs, the -sofa just short enough to prevent any one lying down comfortably, the -floor covered with a black and white diamond oilcloth, cold and -slippery, with a narrow strip of woollen matting in front of the fire. -If Mrs. Binter could have chained the fireirons to the wall (after the -most approved prison fashion), she no doubt would have been glad to do -so; but as she had to preserve a certain appearance of freedom (for -which she was profoundly sorry), she let them lie loose, and Monsieur -Judas was now sitting with the tongs in his hand adding little bits of -coal to the shivering fire.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Binter having ascertained through one of the head-warders (the -housemaid) that Monsieur Judas was going to stay in all the evening, -regarded this as an infringement of the ticket-of-leave system, and -went up to the drawing-room cell to speak to him.</p> - -<p>Judas heard the rattle of the keys, and knew the head-jailer was -coming along, but without desisting from his employment he raised his -crafty eyes to the gaunt figure that speedily stood before him.</p> - -<p>"Ain't you goin' out?" queried the gaunt figure, folding its arms, -that is, the fingers of each hand grasped the elbows of the other arm.</p> - -<p>"De fogs is too moch," responded Judas, picking up another bit of -coal, "an' I am chez moi for a frien'."</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's it, munseer," said the head-jailer, rattling her keys, -"you're expectin' of a friend! Why ain't you goin' back to the shop?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! ma chère, non! I am home to-ni."</p> - -<p>"You'll want the fire, I suppose," remarked Mrs. Binter, grudgingly, -as if she would like to take it away with her, "an' the lamp. I was -goin' to put 'em both out, but if you must, you must. Would your -friend like supper?"</p> - -<p>"Je ne sais pas," said Monsieur Judas, putting down the tongs and -shrugging his shoulders. "No! I do no so tink."</p> - -<p>"Supper's extra, you know," observed Mrs. Binter, determined to have -out of the supper what she was losing in the lamp and fire; "but it -ain't hospital to let a friend go away without a bite. It may be -French manners," added the jailer with scathing irony, "but it ain't -English."</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas spread out his hands with a deprecating gesture, -murmured something indistinct, and then relapsed into silence, much to -the disappointment of Mrs. Binter.</p> - -<p>"There's two legs of a fowl," said the lady, rattling her keys. -"Binter was goin' to have 'em for his breakfast; but I can trim 'em up -with parsley, if you like, an' with bread an' cheese an' a bottle of -that sour vinegar you call Julia, it'll be quite a little 'oliday for -you."</p> - -<p>Just at this moment the bell rang, and Mrs. Binter hastening to the -front door, admitted Mr. Fanks, took him in charge, and having -delivered him over to the safe custody of Monsieur Judas, retired with -a final rattle of the keys in deep wrath at her failure with the -supper idea.</p> - -<p>Octavius, who looked rather pale, but with a stern expression on his -face, slipped off his fur coat, and having surveyed Judas with a -calculating expression, sat down by the fiction of a fire, the -Frenchman taking a seat opposite.</p> - -<p>"I do wait for you," said Monsieur Judas, smoothing one lean hand with -the other, and letting his eyelids droop over his crafty eyes.</p> - -<p>"Speak French," replied Fanks, in that language; "we'll understand one -another better if you do."</p> - -<p>"Eh, certainly, my friend," said Judas, rapidly, "it is easier for me. -You speak French very well; eh, yes, very well, monsieur."</p> - -<p>Fanks acknowledged this compliment with a stiff nod, and plunged at -once into the object of his visit.</p> - -<p>"Now, Monsieur Guinaud, about your friend, Melstane?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! a moment, if you please," hissed Judas, in his low, soft voice, -holding up his hand. "Before we speak of the poor Melstane let us -understand each other, monsieur. That is but right, my friend."</p> - -<p>"Yes, it is but right; what do you want to know?"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas placed his elbows on his knees, warmed his claw-like -hands over the fire, and looked cunningly at the detective before -speaking.</p> - -<p>"Your name, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Rixton."</p> - -<p>"It is very well—that name, Monsieur Fanks," replied Judas, with a -mocking smile.</p> - -<p>"You know my real name, I see," rejoined Octavius, without moving a -muscle of his face. "I compliment you on your penetration."</p> - -<p>"Eh, it is not much," said the Frenchman, with a deprecatory shrug. -"Monsieur Vosk he read to me the papers of Jarlcesterre, and I find -one Monsieur Fanks, agent of the police, to be present. He has the box -which my poor friend had for the pills. A stranger comes to me and -shows the same box, and I say: 'Monsieur Fanks.' Is that not so?"</p> - -<p>"Well, you've read the papers," observed Fanks, slowly, "and know all -the circumstances of your friend's death."</p> - -<p>"The papers say he gave himself the death, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"And what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"Eh, I do not know," replied Monsieur Judas, shrugging his shoulders, -and opening his eyes to their fullest extent (the guileless look). -"What is the opinion of monsieur?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks thought a moment or two before replying. He wanted to find -out all about Melstane's past life, and no one could tell him so much -as the fellow-lodger of the dead man. Judas, however, was no ordinary -man, and would not speak freely unless he knew the whole circumstances -of the case. Now Fanks did not trust Judas in any way. He did not like -his appearance, nor his manner, nor anything about him, and would have -preferred him to remain in ignorance of his (Fanks') suspicions. But -as he could not find out what he wanted to know without telling Judas -his suspicions, and as he could not tell Judas his suspicions without -letting him know more than he cared to, Octavius was rather in a -dilemma.</p> - -<p>Guinaud saw this and put an end to this hesitation in a most emphatic -fashion.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, I see, does not trust me," he said, with an injured air. -"Monsieur would know all and tell nothing. But no, certainly that will -not be pleasing to me. Figure to yourself, monsieur. I am a Frenchman, -me, I am a man of honour, is it not so? Monsieur knows all of the -case; but I—eh! I may know something of good also. If monsieur shows -me his heart, the heart of Jules Guinaud is open to him. There it is."</p> - -<p>Not the heart of Monsieur Guinaud, but the statement of Monsieur -Guinaud's feelings; so Fanks, seeing that he must either give -confidence for confidence or remain ignorant, chose the former -alternative, and spoke out.</p> - -<p>"Very well, I will tell you what I think, but of course you will keep -our conversation secret."</p> - -<p>Judas blew an airy kiss with a light touch of the long fingers on his -mouth, and laughed pleasantly.</p> - -<p>"My faith, yes. Monsieur is the soul of honour, and I, Monsieur -Fanks—eh, is it not the name?—I am the resemblance of that soul. -What you speak this night drops into the open heart of me. Snip, as -say you English, I close the heart. The talk is safe; but, yes—you -understand."</p> - -<p>"Then that's all right," said Fanks, grimly; "we may as well proceed -to business. As Mr. Vosk translated to you, the papers say Melstane -committed suicide—gave himself the death! Comprehend you, eh? Very -well. I say no. It was a crime! Melstane was murdered."</p> - -<p>"And by whom, monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"That's what I've got to find out."</p> - -<p>"And the opinion of monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"I will explain. Melstane had a box of tonic pills with him, -containing, when it left your shop, twelve pills."</p> - -<p>"It is true, monsieur, twelve pills."</p> - -<p>"I can account for six pills, and in the box at present there are -eight."</p> - -<p>"I understand," said Judas, quickly. "Two pills were placed in the box -by an unknown. Those two pills contained poison. The poor Melstane -took one pill of poison, and died. Monsieur has taken the pills to -Monsieur the Dr. Japix to find the other pill."</p> - -<p>"You are perfectly right," said Fanks, rather astonished at the -rapidity with which the assistant grasped the case.</p> - -<p>"Eh, monsieur, I am not blind," replied Judas, shrugging his -shoulders; "and now monsieur desires to find the unknown who placed -the pills of poison in the box."</p> - -<p>"Exactly! And to do so I want you to tell me all you know about -Sebastian Melstane's life here," answered Fanks, producing his -secretive little note-book.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Guinaud looked thoughtfully at the fire, then glanced up at -the ceiling, and at length brought his eyes (guileless expression) to -rest on the face of Mr. Fanks.</p> - -<p>"It is difficult to make the commencement," he said, speaking slowly, -as if he weighed every word. "Behold, monsieur, I make the story to -myself this way: My poor Sebastian, he is an artist. Eh! not what you -call a great artist for the Salon in London, but good in the pictures. -Oh! yes, much of the talent. Six months ago, in London, he beholds a -pretty lady. It is Mees Mar-rson, the daughter of the very rich -monsieur of this town. My friend has the grand passion for the -charming mees—eh! I believe it well—and comes to this town to say 'I -love you!' Alas, he finds that the too charming mees is to marry the -rich Monsieur Sp—Sp—I cannot say your English names."</p> - -<p>"Spolger!"</p> - -<p>"But certainly that is the name. Yes! she is to marry this rich -monsieur; but my brave Sebastian, he mocks himself of that. Here in -this house he stays, and I make myself his friendship. He tells me all -his love. The father of my charming mees is enraged, and forbids my -friend to look, to see, to speak with the beautiful child. But she has -a heart, this angel, and loves to distraction the handsome boy, my -friend. They meet, they talk, they write the letters, and monsieur the -father knows nothing. Then to this pension there comes Monsieur -Axton."</p> - -<p>"Roger Axton?" said Fanks, biting his lips.</p> - -<p>"Yes, truly! You know him? Eh! it is strange," said Judas, -inquisitively.</p> - -<p>"It is well, it is well, I know him," replied Fanks, waving his hand -impatiently; "go on, Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"Very well! This Monsieur Roger has the love for the beautiful Mees -Var-rlins! Eh! you understand? He goes to the house, and is a friend -of monsieur the father. The poor Sebastian and this monsieur have not -the friendship. Monsieur Roger tells the dear Mees Var-rlins of the -meetings of Mees Mar-rson and my friend. Mees Mar-rson is taken away -to the Ile de Vite; Monsieur Roger also goes in August. The brave -Sebastian, he mocks himself, and moves not. When they return, Mees -Var-rlins is the chaperon of the angel, and she meets not my friend. -This Sebastian insults Monsieur Roger as a spy—a villain, and -Monsieur Roger departs in October."</p> - -<p>"Departs for what place?" asked Fanks, making a note of the month in -his book.</p> - -<p>"I do not know," replied Judas, with a characteristic shrug; "Monsieur -Roger is not my friend. In November, my Sebastian, he says to me: 'It -is well; I go to Jarlcesterre.'"</p> - -<p>"What did he mean by 'it is well'?"</p> - -<p>"But, monsieur, I am in darkness. Yes, truly. He had visited the house -of Monsieur le Pilule."</p> - -<p>"You mean Spolger's house?"</p> - -<p>"Yes! He sees Monsieur le Pilule to speak of his love for Mees -Mar-rson. When he returns to this pension, he says: 'It is well; I go -to Jarlcesterre'—no more. Then my friend, the brave Sebastian, goes -to Jarlcesterre, and I see him not more."</p> - -<p>"An interview between Melstane and Spolger could hardly have been -satisfactory," said Fanks, looking keenly at the Frenchman.</p> - -<p>"Eh, monsieur, I know nothing of that," answered Judas, with his -guileless look.</p> - -<p>"Why did Melstane go to Jarlchester, of all places in the world?"</p> - -<p>"I have told monsieur everything," said Monsieur Cuinaud, with oily -politeness.</p> - -<p>"Humph! I'm doubtful of that," muttered Fanks, thoughtfully. "And is -that all you know?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! what would you?"</p> - -<p>"It doesn't throw any light on the murder."</p> - -<p>"Wait, monsieur," said Judas, earnestly, "a moment. One night before -my friend went away, Mees Var-rlins stop her carriage at the shop. She -comes in to me and says: 'I cannot get a stamp of postage. Have you a -stamp of postage?' I say 'yes,' and give her a stamp of postage. She -places the stamp of postage on a letter, and goes away in the -carriage. I see the letter."</p> - -<p>"And the name on the letter?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Roger Axton, Jarlcesterre," said Judas, quietly; "now! eh! -you see?"</p> - -<p>"I see nothing," replied Fanks, bluntly. "Miss Varlins wrote to Axton -at Jarlchester. What of that? I know Axton was at Jarlchester; I saw -him there."</p> - -<p>"Is that so?" said Monsieur Judas, eagerly; "then, behold, monsieur! -Axton is at Jarlcesterre; Melstane goes down also to Jarlcesterre. -Before he goes," pursued Judas, bending forward and speaking in a -whisper, "he buy pills of morphia! eh! is that not so? My friend and -Axton are enemies. At Jarlcesterre they meet; the poor Melstane dies -of morphia! What would you?"</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say that Roger Axton murdered Melstane?" cried Fanks, -trying to control himself.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas spread out his hands once more.</p> - -<p>"I say nothing, monsieur. But because of Miss Mar-rson they -fight—they fight desperate. Axton has the pills of morphia. Melstane -dies of the pills of morphia! But no, I say nothing."</p> - -<p>"I think you've said quite enough," retorted Fanks, coldly. "I don't -believe what you say."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur!"</p> - -<p>"Don't ruffle your feathers, Monsieur Guinaud; I mean what I say, and -in order to prove it, I'll ask Roger Axton to come down here and give -his version of the story."</p> - -<p>"He can but say what I declare."</p> - -<p>"That's a matter of opinion."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Sir."</p> - -<p>The two men had risen to their feet, and were standing opposite to one -another; Fanks cold and scornful, Judas visibly agitated, with his -eyes narrowed down into a dangerous expression. He looked like a snake -preparing for a spring, and Fanks was on his guard; but at length, -with a hissing laugh, Judas stepped back and bowed submissively.</p> - -<p>"Let us not fight, I pray you, monsieur," he said, gently; "when -Monsieur Axton comes you will see that I speak truly."</p> - -<p>"Till that time comes," replied Octavius, putting on his coat, "we -need not meet."</p> - -<p>"As monsieur please."</p> - -<p>"Good-bye, Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"Au revoir, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"I said good-bye."</p> - -<p>"Eh! yes! I replied 'Au revoir,' monsieur."</p> - -<p>Octavius turned on his heel without another word, and left the room. -In the passage he met Mrs. Binter, hovering round in the hope of -supper being ordered. She at once took Fanks in charge, and conducting -him to the door, released him from prison with manifest reluctance.</p> - -<p>Meanwhile Monsieur Judas, left alone, was leaning against the -mantelpiece with a smile on his evil face.</p> - -<p>"Eh! Monsieur Axton," he said to himself, in a whisper, "you gave me -the insult. To-night I have paid the debt—in part! Wait, Monsieur -Axton; wait, Meess Var-rlins; I hold you both. It is I, Jules Guinaud, -that can strike—when I wish."</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From A Detective's Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>"I don't believe second thoughts are best. I always go by first -impressions . . . My first impressions of Judas—I give him his -nickname—are bad . . . He's a slimy scoundrel, very difficult to deal -with . . . In our interview of to-night I had to tell him more than I -cared he should know . . . But it was my only chance of finding out -anything . . . What I did find out looks very bad for Roger Axton -. . . He was at Ironfields, in spite of his denial . . . He stayed at -Binter's boarding-house, and knew Melstane intimately . . . I learn -from Judas that they quarrelled bitterly . . . This is very bad -. . . Roger left Ironfields in a rage against Melstane . . . When next -seen he is down at Jarlchester in the same house as Melstane . . . He -has a grudge against Melstane, and while he is under the same roof -Melstane dies . . . God forgive me if I should be suspecting my old -schoolfellow wrongfully, but things look very suspicious against him -. . . Another thing I learned from Judas, viz., that Miss Varlins -corresponded with Roger at Jarlchester.</p> - -<p>"Query! Can she know anything about the death?</p> - -<p>"I have written to Axton, asking him to come down here and see me -. . . If he refuses, I'm afraid my suspicions will be confirmed -. . . I wish I could disbelieve Judas . . . He looks a secretive -scoundrel . . . and yet his story against Roger is confirmed by my own -experience . . . I think—no, I dare not think . . . I will wait to -hear the other side of the story from Axton . . ."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_07" href="#div1Ref_07">Chapter 7</a></h4> -<h5>An Unwilling Bride</h5> -<br> - -<p>Francis Marson was one of the most prominent men in Ironfields, owing -to his immense wealth, his clear head, and his personal attributes. -His father, a keen man of business, had been born and bred in the -little village from which Ironfields had sprung, and when the -discovery of iron in the vicinity had laid the foundations of the -present world-renowned town, Francis Marson the elder had been one of -the first to profit by the discovery. He watched his opportunity, -bought land (with borrowed money) on which he believed rich veins of -iron ore might be found, and when they were found, built a foundry, -turned over the money, paid back what he had borrowed, and was soon on -the high road to fortune. When firmly established he sent his only son -to college, and then took him into the business, which henceforward -was known as that of Marson & Son. In the fulness of time he was -gathered to his fathers, and Francis Marson the younger stepped into -the enjoyment of unlimited wealth.</p> - -<p>The younger Marson (now iron-gray, severe, and stately) married the -only daughter of Sir Miles Canton, of Canton Hall, and on the death of -the old baronet that property came into the possession of Mr. and Mrs. -Marson, who henceforth took up their residence in the old Tudor -mansion.</p> - -<p>Fortune having been thus kind to Francis Marson, thought it well to -remind him that complete happiness was not the lot of any mortal, so -robbed him of his wife, who died some years after giving birth to -Florence Marson. On her death-bed, the young mother confided the child -to her husband, and implored him to bring her up with Judith Varlins, -the daughter of a distant relation. Judith, who was at that time -twelve years of age and grave beyond her years, took this so to -herself that little Florry was confided to her care, and henceforth -devoted her life to the guardianship of the six-year-old child. -Francis Marson, broken down by grief, went away on his travels, and -the two children grew up together, went to school together, and when -their school-days were over returned to Canton Hall in company with -its master.</p> - -<p>Now Florry Marson was a charming, golden-haired fairy of twenty years -of age, while Judith was a stately brunette some six years older. -Blonde and brunette, day and night, dark and fair, they were both -equally charming in their own way, but as different in disposition as -in appearance. Judith was mistress of the Hall, looked after the -servants, received the company, and in fact acted as the elder sister, -while Florry, bright-eyed and frivolous, did nothing but amuse -herself. Francis Marson was fond of both the girls, but simply -worshipped Florry, who lighted up the whole house like a sunbeam. Both -Judith and the father combined to spoil her, and up to the age of -twenty the life of Florry had been nothing but pleasure, gaiety, and -sunshine.</p> - -<p>Then came the episode of Sebastian Melstane, who had met Florry in -London, and she, reckless in all things, had given away her frivolous -little heart to this handsome, dark-haired artist. On making -inquiries, Mr. Marson had found out sufficient about Mr. Melstane's -past life to make him resolve his darling should never marry such a -scamp, and he forbade Florry to think of him. Upon which Miss Florry, -with her silly little head stuffed full of poetry and romance, -regarded Melstane as a persecuted hero, and on his coming to -Ironfields met him by stealth, wrote him letters, exchanged presents, -and in fact did everything a foolish girl would do when flattered and -loved by a romantic scamp.</p> - -<p>Roger Axton, knowing Melstane's bad character, had put an end to these -stolen meetings by telling Judith, and Florry was carried off to -Ventnor. While there she still sighed after her lover, and when she -returned to Ironfields saw him with difficulty, as Judith was too -vigilant to let her remain long out of her sight. Then Melstane went -to Jarlchester, and Florry said to Judith with many tears and sighs -that she would be true to him, although she had now been engaged for -some time to Mr. Jackson Spolger, the son of a man who had made his -money out of a patent medicine.</p> - -<p>Francis Marson had set his heart on this match, and although Florry -violently protested against it, insisted that she should become -engaged to Mr. Spolger, as he was anxious to place her beyond the -power of Sebastian Melstane, and, moreover, Jackson Spolger was too -wealthy a suitor to be rejected lightly.</p> - -<p>Some days after Fanks' visit to Monsieur Judas at the end of November, -Judith and Florry were both in the drawing-room of the Hall having -afternoon tea.</p> - -<p>It was a large, handsome apartment, furnished with great artistic -taste, principally due to Miss Varlins, who had a wonderful eye for -colour and effect. A curiously carved oaken ceiling, walls draped with -dark red velvet which fell in heavy folds to the velvet pile carpet of -the same colour, plenty of sombre pictures in oil in tarnished gilt -frames, many small tables covered with nicknacks (selected by -frivolous Florry), numbers of comfortable lounging-chairs, inviting -repose, and a handsome grand piano littered with loose music (Florry -again)—it was truly a delightful room. Then there were cabinets of -rare china, monstrous jars of quaint design and bizarre colours, and -flowers, flowers, flowers everywhere. Both ladies had a perfect -passion for flowers, and even in this bleak month of November the most -exquisite exotics were to be seen throughout the room in profusion, -filling the air with their heavy odours.</p> - -<p>Four windows at the other end of the room looked out on to the garden, -but were now closed, for it was a cold afternoon, and the driving rain -beat against the glass and on the leafless trees outside. A blazing -fire in the old fashioned fireplace with its quaint Dutch tiles, a low -table drawn near the hearth, on which stood the tea service, and Miss -Varlins in a chair knitting quietly, while Florry flitted about the -room like a restless fairy in the waning light.</p> - -<p>A handsome woman, Judith Varlins, with a proud, dark face, and a -somewhat stern expression, which always relaxed to tenderness when it -rested on the diminutive form of Florry. And that young lady was very -tiny, more like a piece of Dresden china than anything else, with her -delicate complexion, her piquant face, glittering golden hair, and -dainty figure. Clothed in white—Miss Marson always affected white—in -some lacy material, soft and delicate like a cobweb, she formed a -strong contrast to the sombre beauty of Judith in her plain, black -silk dress.</p> - -<p>And the little figure went flitting here and there, now at the -windows, looking out into the chill twilight, then bending over some -great bunch of flowers inhaling the perfume, at the piano striking -a few random chords, hovering round the tea table, flashing into -the red firelight, melting into the cold shadows, like to some -will-o'-the-wisp, some phantom, some restless shadow rather than -anything of this earth.</p> - -<p>"Florry, my pet," said Judith, at length, pausing in her knitting, -"you will tire yourself running about so much." Whereupon the fairy -floated airily towards the fire, and settled lightly down, like -thistledown, on a footstool, where she sat clasping her knees with her -arms with a cross expression of countenance, a very discontented fairy -indeed.</p> - -<p>"For really," she said, at length, pursuing a train of thought that -was in her shallow mind, "to be called Spolger—Mrs. Jackson Spolger. -It's horrid! so is he. The monster!"</p> - -<p>"Florry, Florry! don't talk like that about your future husband," -remonstrated Judith; "it's not nice, my dearest."</p> - -<p>"Neither is he," retorted Miss Marson, resting her chin on her knees -and staring into the fire; "he's so lean, like a skeleton, and so -crabbed—oh, so crabbed."</p> - -<p>"But he loves you, dear."</p> - -<p>"Yes, like a dog loves a bone. I know he's one of those men who hit -their wives over the head with a poker; he looks like a poker man. I -wish he was Sebastian, and Sebastian was he."</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about Sebastian, my dear Florence," said Miss Varlins, -severely—that is, as severely as she could to Florry; "your father -would never have agreed to your marrying such a scamp!"</p> - -<p>"He's no worse than other people," muttered Florry, rebelliously.</p> - -<p>"I don't know about other people," replied Judith, coldly; "but I'm -certain Sebastian Melstane would have made you a bad husband. However, -he's gone now, and you'll never see him again."</p> - -<p>"Never!"</p> - -<p>"No, never! Mr. Melstane has passed out of your life entirely," said -Judith, looking steadily at Florry, who appeared to be rather scared.</p> - -<p>"What horrid things you say, Judith, you horrid thing," she whimpered, -at length. "I don't know why Sebastian went away, and I don't know why -he hasn't written to me. I thought he loved me, but if he had, he -would have written. But he'll come back and explain everything."</p> - -<p>"I'm certain he won't!" answered Judith, sternly.</p> - -<p>"Why are you certain?"</p> - -<p>"I have my reasons," said Judith, quietly.</p> - -<p>It might have been the twilight or the dancing shadows of the fire, -but as she spoke her face seemed to grow old and haggard for the -moment, even to Miss Marson's unobservant eyes. Florry with her own -blue eyes wide open, a terrified expression on her face, and a -tremulous under-lip, suddenly burst into tears, and rising from her -footstool, flung herself on her knees at the feet of her cousin, -sobbing violently.</p> - -<p>"Come, come!" said Miss Varlins, smoothing the golden head as it lay -in her lap. "I did not mean to speak severely; but really, Florry, I -was very sorry that Mr. Melstane loved you."</p> - -<p>"I—I can't help it if he did," sobbed Florry, passionately; "it's not -my fault if people will love me. There's Mr. Spolger—he's always -making love, and that horrid, red-haired Frenchman; every time I go -out he never takes his eyes off my face."</p> - -<p>"What! that man at Wosk's?" cried Judith, with great indignation. -"Surely he has not such impertinence!"</p> - -<p>"No, he hasn't," replied Florry, sitting up and drying her eyes; "but -he will look at me in such a way. I'm sure he's in love with me—the -horrid thing."</p> - -<p>"He was a friend of Mr. Melstane's, I believe," said Judith, angrily, -"and you, no doubt, saw him during those foolish meetings with that -man."</p> - -<p>"No, I didn't," answered Florry, going back to her footstool; "I never -saw him at all. And our meetings weren't foolish. I love Sebastian -very much, only papa will make me marry this horrid Spolger thing."</p> - -<p>"How many times did you see Mr. Melstane?"</p> - -<p>"Five or six times here and once in London.</p> - -<p>"Florry!"</p> - -<p>"Well!" said Miss Marson, pettishly, "you asked me? I saw him in -London that day I went to see Aunt Spencer, when we stopped in London -on our way to Ventnor."</p> - -<p>"Why didn't Aunt Spencer tell me of it, then?"</p> - -<p>"She didn't know," answered Florry, penitently. "I met Sebastian on -the way, and we were together for two hours. Then I went on to Aunt -Spencer and told her nothing."</p> - -<p>"And told me nothing also," said Judith, severely. "Upon my word, -Florry, I did not think you were so deceitful! You met Mr. Melstane in -London, and this is the first I hear about it."</p> - -<p>"Well, you were so horrid, Judith," pouted Florry, playing with her -handkerchief; "and Sebastian told me to say nothing."</p> - -<p>"He's a bad man!"</p> - -<p>"No, he's not," retorted Miss Marson, angrily; "he's a very nice man, -and I love him very, very much, in spite of Mr. Spolger—there!"</p> - -<p>Judith was about to make some angry reply, feeling thoroughly -disgusted at Florry's duplicity, when the door was thrown open, and -Mr. Marson entered the room.</p> - -<p>A tall, severe-looking man, this Francis Marson, with a worn, worried -expression on his face. He sighed wearily as he sat down near the -fire.</p> - -<p>"Oh, what a sigh—what a big sigh!" cried Florry, recovering her -spirits and poising herself on the old man's knee. "What is the -matter, papa?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing, child, nothing," replied Marson, hastily, smoothing the -golden hair of his darling. "Business worries, my dear; what I spoke -about the other day."</p> - -<p>"Oh!"</p> - -<p>Florry drew down the corners of her mouth as if she were going to cry; -then, suddenly changing her mind, she threw her arms round her -father's neck, and placed her soft face against his withered cheek.</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about business, papa," she said, coaxingly; "I hate it; -it's so disagreeable."</p> - -<p>"So it is for a frivolous young person like you, dear," said Mr. -Marson, cheerfully; "but it's very necessary all the same. What would -become of your thousand and one wants but for this same business you -so disapprove of?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, I wish I had a fairy purse," cried Florry, clapping her hands, -"with a gold piece in it every time I opened it. It would save such a -lot of trouble."</p> - -<p>"A fairy world," said Mr. Marson, looking at her fondly; "that is what -you would like. And you the lovely princess whom the handsome prince -comes to awaken."</p> - -<p>"Well, Florry has a prince," said Judith, quietly; "the Prince of the -Gold Mines!"</p> - -<p>She had not been paying much attention to the conversation between -father and daughter, as she was evidently thinking deeply, and her -thoughts, judging from the severe expression of her countenance, were -not particularly pleasant. The last words of Mr. Marson, however, -enchained her attention, and she made the remark about the prince on -purpose to see if the old man knew how disagreeable the Spolger -alliance was to his child.</p> - -<p>"A prince!" echoed Florry, tossing her head. "And what a prince! He's -more like an ogre."</p> - -<p>"A very devoted ogre, at all events," said Judith, significantly.</p> - -<p>"Spolger's a good fellow," observed Marson, hurriedly; "a little -rough, perhaps, but his heart is in the right place. Beauty is only -skin-deep."</p> - -<p>"I suppose you mean—" began Florry, when her father interrupted her -quickly.</p> - -<p>"Florry," he said, angrily, "I forbid you to mention that man's name. -I would sooner see you in your grave than married to Sebastian -Melstane."</p> - -<p>"There's no chance of that occurring now," interjected Judith, with -sombre earnestness.</p> - -<p>The fairy looked from one to the other with a scared expression of -countenance, and seeing how severe they both looked, subsided into a -white heap on the hearthrug, and burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"How horrid you are, papa," she cried, dismally; "and so is Judith. -I'm sure Mr. Melstane's very nice. He's so handsome, and talks so -beautifully about poetry. He's like Conrad, and Mr. Spolger isn't, and -I wish I was dead with a tombstone and a broken heart," concluded Miss -Marson, tearfully.</p> - -<p>Judith looked at Mr. Marson, and he looked at Judith. They both felt -quite helpless in dealing with this piece of frivolity, whose very -weakness constituted her strength. At last Mr. Marson, bending down, -smoothed Florry's hair fondly, and spoke soothingly to her.</p> - -<p>"My dear child," he said, quietly, "you know that all I desire is your -happiness; and, believe me, you will thank me in after life for what I -am now doing. Sebastian Melstane is a scamp and a spendthrift. If you -married him, he would neglect you and make you miserable. Jackson -Spolger will make you a good husband, and protect a delicate flower -like you from the bleak winds of adversity."</p> - -<p>"But he's so ugly," sobbed Florry, childishly; "just like the -what's-his-name in 'Notre Dame.'"</p> - -<p>"If you have such an aversion to marry him, Florry, then don't do it," -said Judith, quietly. "I'm sure your father would not force you into a -marriage against your will."</p> - -<p>"By no means," said Marson, hastily. "I placed the case before you the -other day, Florry, and I place it now. As you know, I have had great -losses lately, and unless I can obtain a large sum of ready money I -will be irretrievably ruined. Jackson Spolger has promised to put -money into the business if you become his wife. I told you this, and -you consented, so it is childish of you to go on like this, If you -dislike Spolger so much, I will not force you to marry him; but I warn -you that your refusal means ruin."</p> - -<p>"You won't let me marry Sebastian Melstane," cried Florry, -obstinately.</p> - -<p>"No, I won't," retorted her father, angrily. "You need not marry Mr. -Spolger unless you like, but you—you certainly shall not marry -Sebastian Melstane with my consent; I would rather see you in your -grave."</p> - -<p>"Then I suppose I must marry Mr. Spolger," said Florry, dolefully -drying her eyes.</p> - -<p>"That is as you please," replied Marson, rising to his feet and -walking slowly to and fro. "I don't want to sell my child for money. I -simply place the case before you, and you are free to refuse or accept -as you please. Yes means prosperity, no means ruin, and the choice is -entirely in your hands."</p> - -<p>Florry said nothing, but sat on the hearthrug twisting her -handkerchief and staring at the fire.</p> - -<p>"I would like to say one word, Florry," said Judith, bending forward. -"If you did not intend to marry Mr. Spolger you should have said so at -first; now the wedding-day is fixed for next week, your dresses are -ready, the guests are invited, so it would be rather hard on the poor -man to dash the cup of happiness from his lips just as he is tasting -it."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless," said Marson, stopping in his walk, "late as it is, -Florry, if you think that you cannot make Jackson Spolger a good wife, -I will break off the match without delay."</p> - -<p>"But that means ruin," cried Florry, tearfully.</p> - -<p>"Yes!" said Marson, curtly, "ruin."</p> - -<p>Florry sat thinking as deeply as her shallow little brain would allow -her. She saw plainly that if she refused to marry Mr. Spolger, she -would never gain her fathers consent to her marriage with Melstane, -and as a refusal meant ruin without any chance of obtaining the wish -of her heart, she did not see what was to be gained by being perverse. -Shallow, frivolous, selfish as she was, she saw all this quite -plainly, and, moreover, being too timid to brook her father's -displeasure, she made up her mind to yield. Rising to her feet, she -stole towards her father, as he stood in gloomy silence looking out on -the wintry lawn, and threw her arms round his neck.</p> - -<p>"Papa," she whispered, "I will marry Mr. Spolger."</p> - -<p>"Of your own free will?" he asked, a trifle sternly.</p> - -<p>"Of my own free will," she repeated, steadily. "I am sorry for -Sebastian, for I do love him; but I don't want to vex you, dearest, so -I'll be awfully nice to Mr. Spolger and marry him next week."</p> - -<p>"My dearest," said Marson, in a tone of great relief, "you don't know -how happy you have made me."</p> - -<p>"Florry," cried Judith, rolling up her work.</p> - -<p>"Yes, Judith," said Florry, leaving her father, and coming to her -cousin.</p> - -<p>"You are quite sure you mean what you say?" asked Miss Varlins, -looking at her steadily.</p> - -<p>"Quite sure."</p> - -<p>"No more tears or crying after Sebastian?"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk of Sebastian," said Florry, angrily. "I'll marry Mr. -Spolger, and I dare say he'll make me happy."</p> - -<p>Judith said no more, but resumed her work with a sigh; but Mr. Marson, -coming towards the fire, was about to speak, when the door opened and -a footman announced: "Mr. Jackson Spolger."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_08" href="#div1Ref_08">Chapter 8</a></h4> -<h5>Mr. Spolger Tells a Story</h5> -<br> - -<p>Jackson Spolger, proprietor of that celebrated patent medicine, -"Spolger's Soother," was a long, lean, lank man, with a somewhat cross -face, and a mildly irritable manner. Spolger the father had been a -chemist, but having invented the "Soother," made his fortune thereby, -owing to lavish advertising and plenty of testimonials (paid for) from -hypochondriacal celebrities. Having thus fulfilled his mission in this -world, and benefited his fellow men by the "Soother," he departed -therefrom, leaving his money and his "Soother" to Spolger the son, who -still carried on the advertising business, and derived a large income -from it. He had been well educated, had travelled a good deal, and had -a kind of social veneer, which, added to his money, entitled him to be -called a gentleman. Although he suffered a good deal from ill-health, -he never by any chance used the "Soother," which led ill-natured -people to remark that it was made to sell and not to cure. Mr. -Spolger, however, did not mind ill-natured people being too much taken -up with himself and his ailments, of which he was always talking. He -chatted constantly about his own liver, or some one else's liver, -prescribed remedies, talked gloomily of his near death, and altogether -was not a particularly agreeable person.</p> - -<p>Being thus a diseased egotist, he carried his mania for health even -into his matrimonial prospects, and loved Florry not so much on -account of her beauty as because she looked delicate, and in a wife of -such a constitution he thought he would always have some one beside -him, on whom to practise his little curative theories. He always -carried in his pocket a horrible little book called "Till the Doctor -Comes," and was never so delighted as when he found some one -sufficiently ill who would permit him to prescribe one of the remedies -from his precious book. He preferred a chemist's shop to his own -house, loved doctors above all other men, and contemplated passing his -honeymoon in a hydropathic establishment, where there would be plenty -of fellow-sufferers with whom to compare notes.</p> - -<p>At present he was clad in a heavy tweed suit, and wore a thickly lined -fur coat, galoshes on his feet, and a roll of red flannel round his -throat.</p> - -<p>"How do you do, Mr. Marson?" he said, in a thin, irritable voice, as -he shook hands. "I hope you are well. You don't look it. Your hand is -moist; that's a bad sign. Dry? Yes, mine is dry. I'm afraid it's -fever. Diseases are so subtle. Miss Varlins, you look healthy. Florry, -my dearest, what a thin dress for this weather!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, it's all right, Mr. Spolger."</p> - -<p>"Jackson," he interpolated.</p> - -<p>"It's all right, Jackson," said Florry, gaily. "I'm quite healthy."</p> - -<p>"Ah, yes, now," replied Mr. Spolger, darkly, sitting down; "but that -thin dress means a chill. It might settle on the lungs, and you might -be in your coffin before you know where you are."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense, man," said Marson, in a hearty voice; "the room is quite -warm. Won't you take off that heavy coat?"</p> - -<p>"Not at present," answered Mr. Spolger, emphatically. "I always -accustom myself to the temperature of a place by degrees. A sudden -chill is worse than damp feet."</p> - -<p>"Will you have some tea, Mr. Spolger?" asked Judith, for the footman -had now brought in the teapot and a plate of toast.</p> - -<p>"No, thank you," answered the hypochondriac, politely. "I'm undergoing -a course of medicine just now, and tea in my present condition means -death."</p> - -<p>"Then have some toast," said Florry, laughingly, presenting him with -the plate.</p> - -<p>"Buttered," said Mr. Spolger, looking at the plate. "Horrible! The -worst thing in the world for me! I take dry toast for breakfast, with -a glass of hot water—nothing more."</p> - -<p>"I hope you don't intend me to breakfast like that," said Florry, -saucily.</p> - -<p>"My dear, you can eat what you like," answered Mr. Spolger, solemnly -producing his little book. "Should you suffer from your indiscretion, -I have always got the remedy in this."</p> - -<p>"Did the medicine Dr. Japix prescribed do you good?" asked Judith.</p> - -<p>"Not a bit," said Spolger, slowly taking off his coat. "I still suffer -from sleeplessness. However, I've got a new idea I'm going to carry -out. Cold water bandages at the head, and a hot brick at the feet. -There, now my coat is off I feel beautiful."</p> - -<p>"Well! well!" said Mr. Marson, rather impatient of all this medical -talk, "I hope you'll be quite well for your wedding."</p> - -<p>"I hope so, too," retorted Spolger, with gloomy foreboding. "I've -arranged all the tour, Florry. We go first to Malvern, a very healthy -place, then to Bath to drink the waters. After that, if you like, -we'll go abroad, though I much distrust the drainage of these foreign -towns."</p> - -<p>"Oh, let us go abroad at once," said Florry, eagerly; "to Paris. If -you find it too lively, you can walk everyday in the Père-la-Chaise -Cemetery."</p> - -<p>"Don't jest on such a subject, Florry," said Judith, reprovingly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I don't mind," replied the lover, with gloomy relish; "we'll all -have to go to the cemetery some day, so it's as well to get accustomed -to the idea."</p> - -<p>His three listeners looked rather depressed at this dismal prophecy, -but said nothing, while Mr. Spolger told cheerful little stories of -how his liver would treat him if he did not look after it. This led -him to talk of medicine, which suggested chemists, which in their turn -suggested Wosk & Co., so by-and-by Mr. Spolger began to talk of -Monsieur Judas.</p> - -<p>"A most estimable young man," he said, feeling his own pulse in a -professional manner; "he has had typhoid fever twice, and suffers from -corns."</p> - -<p>"Tight boots?" asked Florry, flippantly.</p> - -<p>"No, hereditary! Most curious case. But talking of Monsieur Guinaud—"</p> - -<p>"Judas," said Miss Varlins, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I hear they call him Judas on account of his red hair," replied -Mr. Spolger, laughing carefully. "Well, as a chemist, he takes a great -interest in Florry."</p> - -<p>"In me?" cried the damsel, indignantly.</p> - -<p>"Yes; he thinks you look delicate," said Mr. Spolger, complacently; -"indeed, he suggested several remedies. And if you would see him—"</p> - -<p>"No, no!" interposed Marson, quickly. "Really, Jackson, I'm -astonished at you. If Florry requires to see a medical man, there is -Dr. Japix; but as to letting a man like that Frenchman meddle with her -health—why, the very look of him is enough."</p> - -<p>"Consumption," said Mr. Spolger, sagaciously; "he looks delicate, I -know."</p> - -<p>"I think he is a very dangerous man," said Judith, in her quiet, -composed voice; "he was a great friend of—" Here she checked herself -suddenly.</p> - -<p>"Of Melstane," finished Spolger, scowling. "Yes, I know that. And -talking about Mr. Melstane—"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk about Mr. Melstane," said Marson, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Why not?"</p> - -<p>Florry answered him, for she was evidently struggling with a fit of -hysteria, and as he spoke she arose from her seat and fled rapidly -from the room, followed by Judith.</p> - -<p>"There," said Marson, in an annoyed tone, "how foolish you are to -speak of that scamp!"</p> - -<p>"I don't see why Florry shouldn't get used to his name," replied -Spolger, sulkily. "Of course, I know she loved him, but it's all over -now; he won't trouble her again."</p> - -<p>"Why not?" demanded Marson, quickly.</p> - -<p>"Because he's gone away. He had the impudence to call on me before he -went, but I soon settled him, though he upset me dreadfully."</p> - -<p>"What did he call about?"</p> - -<p>Spolger was going to reply, when once more the door was thrown open, -and the footman announced in stentorian tones:</p> - -<p>"Mr. Roger Axton."</p> - -<p>"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Axton?" said Mr. Marson, going forward to meet -the young man. "I did not know you were down here."</p> - -<p>"No! I came by this morning's train from town," replied Roger, shaking -the old man's hand. "I trust you are well, Mr. Spolger?"</p> - -<p>That gentleman shook his head as Axton sat down, and lights being -brought in at this moment, looked sharply at the new-comer, answering -his question in the Socratian fashion by asking another.</p> - -<p>"Are you well?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes!" replied Roger, hurriedly, "perfectly. I suffer a good deal -from sleeplessness."</p> - -<p>"You should try—"</p> - -<p>"Spolger's Soother, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Jackson, solemnly, "I never recommend that to my friends. -You should try morphia. Why, what's the matter?"</p> - -<p>"Nothing," answered Roger, faintly, for he had started violently at -the mention of the drug, "only I'm rather nervous."</p> - -<p>"You've been overworking, I suppose," said Mr. Marson, looking at him -keenly; "burning the midnight oil."</p> - -<p>"No, indeed! I've been on a walking tour."</p> - -<p>"Very healthy exercise," said Mr. Spolger, approvingly. "I can't -indulge in it myself because I've a tendency to varicose veins. What -part of the country were you walking in?"</p> - -<p>"Down Winchester way," replied Roger, raising his eyes suddenly and -looking at Mr. Marson steadily.</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed!" answered that gentleman, with a start; "then I suppose -you were near Jarlchester."</p> - -<p>"I was at Jarlchester," said Roger, emphatically, "during the -investigation of that case."</p> - -<p>Both his listeners were silent, as if some nameless fear paralysed -their tongues; then Marson looked at Spolger, and Spolger looked at -Marson, while Roger glanced rapidly from one to the other.</p> - -<p>At this moment Judith entered the room.</p> - -<p>"Florry is better," she said, advancing; "she is— What, Mr. Axton!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; I came down here to see a friend, and thought I would look in," -replied Roger as she greeted him.</p> - -<p>"I am very glad you did not forget us," she remarked, quietly resuming -her seat. "Will you have a cup of tea?"</p> - -<p>"Thank you!"</p> - -<p>They were seated beside the tea-table, and were quite alone, as Mr. -Marson in company with his future son-in-law had left their seats, and -were now talking together in low whispers at the end of the room. -Judith handed a cup of tea to Roger, and looked at him steadily as he -stirred it with a listless expression on his worn face.</p> - -<p>"You don't look well," she said at length, dropping her eyes.</p> - -<p>"Mental worry," he responded, with a sigh. "I have undergone a good -deal since I last saw you."</p> - -<p>"In connection with that?" she asked, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes! I received your letter in London, and went at once down to -Jarlchester on a walking tour, that is, I made my walking tour an -excuse for being there. I stayed there a week, and then received your -second letter saying he was coming."</p> - -<p>"And he came?" asked Judith, with a quick indrawn breath.</p> - -<p>"He did."</p> - -<p>"You saw him?" she continued, looking nervously towards the two -whispering figures at the end of the room.</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - -<p>"And got—and got the letters?"</p> - -<p>"Of course," said Axton, in a tone of surprise. "I sent them to -you—to the post office, as you desired."</p> - -<p>"My God!" she said, in a low voice of agony, "I—I have not received -them. I went to the post office every day to ask for a packet directed -to Miss Judith, but have been told it had not come."</p> - -<p>"Good heavens!" said Roger, with a start of surprise, "I hope they -have not gone astray—I ought to have registered them."</p> - -<p>"If you had I could not have obtained them," replied Miss Varlins, -hurriedly; "you forget. The packet was addressed to Miss Judith, and -the postmistress knows me so well, I could not have signed any but my -own name without causing remark."</p> - -<p>"You ought to have allowed me to send them here."</p> - -<p>"Yes! and then Florry would have seen them."</p> - -<p>"Nonsense!"</p> - -<p>"There is always a possibility," said Judith, quickly; "but if these -letters have gone astray, what are we to do?"</p> - -<p>"Well, if—"</p> - -<p>"Hush!"</p> - -<p>She laid her hand suddenly on his arm to arrest his speech, for at -that moment the voice, thin and peevish, of Mr. Spolger, was heard -saying a name:</p> - -<p>"Sebastian Melstane."</p> - -<p>Judith and Roger both looked at one another, their cheeks pale, their -manners agitated, and he was about to speak again when she stopped him -for the second time.</p> - -<p>"Listen!"</p> - -<p>They could hear quite plainly, for the pair at the end of the room had -moved unthinkingly near them, and Spolger was talking shrilly to Mr. -Marson about the man of whom they were then thinking.</p> - -<p>"He came up to see me before he went away. I was very ill, but he -would see me, and we had a most agitating interview. Told me that he -loved Florry—told me, her affianced husband. Said that she would -never marry me—that he could prevent the marriage. Then he insulted -me. Yes! held out a box of pills, and asked me if I had any ideas -beyond such things. I knocked the box out of his hand and insisted -upon his leaving the house. He went, for I was firm—very firm though -much agitated. He left the box behind him. Yes, I found it after he -was gone, and sent my servant down with it to his boarding-house. Oh, -I was terribly agitated. He was so bold. But he won't come back again. -No! he won't come back."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?" cried Roger, starting to his feet, in spite of -Judith's warning touch.</p> - -<p>"What! you were listening," said Mr. Spolger, angrily, coming near to -the young man.</p> - -<p>"I could hardly help hearing you, seeing you raised your voice," -retorted Roger, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Most dishonourable! most dishonourable!"</p> - -<p>"Sir!"</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Francis Marson, plainly, "you are in my -house."</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Mr. Marson," said Roger, ceremoniously, "I only -asked Mr. Spolger a simple question."</p> - -<p>"To which he declines to reply," replied Mr. Spolger, coolly.</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>Judith had risen to her feet and was clinging to Francis Marson's arm, -while Roger and Spolger looked steadily at one another. The whole four -of them were so intent upon the conversation that they did not see a -little figure enter the door and pause on the threshold at the sound -of the angry voices.</p> - -<p>"You agitate me," said the valetudinarian, angrily. "I am not used to -be agitated, sir. I was telling my friend a private story, and you -should not have listened.</p> - -<p>"I apologise," replied Roger, bowing. "I did not intend to give -offence, but I wondered how it was you guessed Melstane would never -return."</p> - -<p>The little figure stole nearer.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Spolger, quickly.</p> - -<p>Judith leaned on Marson's arm with her face deadly white and her eyes -dilated, waiting—waiting for what she dreaded to think.</p> - -<p>"I mean about the Jarlchester Mystery."</p> - -<p>Mr. Marson said nothing, but with a face as pale as that of the woman -on his arm, stared steadily at Roger Axton. At the mention of -Jarlchester the figure behind came slowly along until Florry Marson, -with a look of terror on her face, stood still as a statue behind her -lover.</p> - -<p>"I have read in the papers about the Jarlchester Mystery," said -Spolger, in an altered tone.</p> - -<p>"I guessed as much, and that was the reason you said Melstane would -not return."</p> - -<p>"No, no! What do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"Mean that Sebastian Melstane died at Jarlchester, and you know it."</p> - -<p>"Sebastian!"</p> - -<p>They all turned round, and there stood Florry, with one hand clasped -over her heart, and the other grasping a chair to steady herself by.</p> - -<p>"Sebastian," she whispered, with white lips, "is—is he dead?"</p> - -<p>Roger turned his head.</p> - -<p>"Dead!" she cried, with a cry of terror. "Dead—murdered!" and fell -fainting on the floor.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_09" href="#div1Ref_09">Chapter 9</a></h4> -<h5>A Terrible Suspicion</h5> -<br> - -<p>Eight o'clock in the evening by the remarkably incorrect clock on the -mantelpiece, eight-thirty by Mr. Fanks' watch, which was never wrong, -and that gentleman was seated in a private room of the "Foundryman -Hotel" waiting the arrival of Roger Axton.</p> - -<p>The "Foundryman" was not a first-class hotel, nor was the private room -a first-class apartment, but it was comfortable enough, and Mr. Fanks -was too much worried in his own mind to pay much attention to his -personal wants. He was much disturbed about his old schoolfellow, as -everything now seemed to point to Axton as a possible murderer—the -conversation at Jarlchester, the evidence of Dr. Japix, the delicately -insinuated suspicions of Judas—it seemed as though no doubt could -exist but that Roger Axton was the person responsible for the death of -Sebastian Melstane.</p> - -<p>In spite, however, of all this circumstantial evidence, the detective -hoped against hope, and resolved within his own honest heart not to -believe Roger guilty until he had heard his explanation of the affair. -He knew well that circumstantial evidence was not always to be -depended upon, and Axton's prompt arrival in answer to his letter had -inspired him with the belief that the young man must be innocent, -otherwise he would hardly dare to place himself in a position of such -peril. So Mr. Fanks, with the perplexity of his mind showing even in -his usually impassive face, sat watch in hand, awaiting Roger's -arrival and casting absent glances round the room.</p> - -<p>A comfortable room enough in an old-fashioned way! All the furniture -seemed to have been made at that primeval period when Ironfields was a -village, but here and there some meretricious hotel decoration spoiled -the effect of the whole. Heavy mahogany arm-chairs, a heavy mahogany -table, a heavy mahogany sideboard stood on a gaudy carpet with a dingy -white ground, and sprawling red roses mixed with painfully green -leaves. An antique carved mantelpiece, all Cupids and flowers and -foliage, but on it a staring square mirror with an ornate gilt frame -swathed in yellow gauze, and in front of this a gimcrack French -timepiece, with an aggressively loud tick, vividly painted vases of -coarse china containing tawdry paper flowers, and two ragged fans of -peacock's feathers. The curtains of the one window were drawn, a -cheerful fire burned under the antique mantelpiece with its modern -barbarisms, and an evil-smelling lamp, with a dull, yellow flame, -illuminated the apartment. Mr. Fanks himself sat in a grandfatherly -armchair drawn close to the fire, and pondered over the curious aspect -of affairs, while the rain outside swept down the crooked street, and -the wind howled at the window as if it wanted to get in to the -comfortable warmth out of the damp cold.</p> - -<p>A knock at the door disturbed the sombre meditations of Octavius, and -in response to his answer, Roger walked into the room with a flushed -face and a somewhat nervous manner. He did not attempt to shake hands -(feeling he had no right to do so until he had explained his previous -behaviour at Jarlchester), but sat down near the fire, opposite to his -friend, and looked rather defiantly at the impassive face of that -gentleman, who gave him a cool nod.</p> - -<p>"Well," he said, at length, breaking a somewhat awkward silence, "I've -lost no time in answering your letter."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad of that, Roger," responded Fanks, gravely; "it gives me -great hopes."</p> - -<p>"How? That I'm not a criminal, I suppose."</p> - -<p>Fanks said nothing, but looked sadly at the suspicious face of the -young man.</p> - -<p>"Silence gives consent, I see," said Axton, throwing himself back in -his chair, with a harsh laugh. "Well, I'm sorry a man I thought my -friend should think so ill of me."</p> - -<p>"What else can I think, Roger?"</p> - -<p>"He calls me Roger," said Axton, with an effort at gaiety. "Why not -the prisoner at the bar—the convict in the jail—the secret -poisoner?"</p> - -<p>"Because I believe you to be none of the three, my friend," replied -Fanks, candidly.</p> - -<p>Roger looked at him with a sudden flush of shame, and involuntarily -held out his hand, but drew it back quickly, before the other could -clasp it.</p> - -<p>"No, not yet," he said, hastily; "I will not clasp your hand in -friendship until I clear myself in your eyes. You demand an -explanation. Well, I am here to give it."</p> - -<p>"I am glad of that," replied Fanks for the second time. "I'm quite -aware," continued Roger, flushing, "that now you are at Ironfields you -must be aware that I concealed certain facts in my conversation with -you."</p> - -<p>"Yes! You said you had not been to Ironfields, and that you did not -correspond with Miss Varlins. Both statements were false."</p> - -<p>"May I ask on whose authority you speak so confidently?" demanded -Axton, coldly.</p> - -<p>"Certainly. On the authority of Dr. Japix."</p> - -<p>"Japix!" repeated Roger, starting, "do you know him?"</p> - -<p>"Yes! I met him some time ago in Manchester, and I renewed my -acquaintance with him down here."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I wanted him to analyse those pills found in Melstane's room -after his death."</p> - -<p>He looked sharply at Roger as he spoke, but that young man met his -gaze serenely and without flinching, which seemed to give Fanks great -satisfaction, for he withdrew his eyes with a sigh of relief.</p> - -<p>"Octavius," said Roger, after a pause, "do you remember our -conversation at Jarlchester?"</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks deliberately produced his secretive little note-book and -tapped it delicately with his long fingers.</p> - -<p>"The conversation is set down here."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Roger, with sardonic politeness. "I was not aware you -carried your detective principles so far as to take a note of -interviews with your friends."</p> - -<p>"I don't do it as a rule," responded Fanks, coolly; "but I had an -instinct that our interview might be useful in connection with -Melstane's case. I was right, you see. Roger," he cried, with a burst -of natural feeling, "why did you not trust me?"</p> - -<p>Roger turned away his face, upon which burned a flush of shame.</p> - -<p>"Because I was afraid," he replied, in a low voice.</p> - -<p>"Of being accused of the murder?"</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - -<p>"But you can exculpate yourself?" said Fanks, in a startled tone.</p> - -<p>"I hope so," replied Roger, gloomily; "but on my word of honour, -Fanks, I am innocent. Have you read 'Edwin Drood'?"</p> - -<p>"Yes!" responded Fanks, rather puzzled at what appeared to be an -irrelevant question, "several times."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember what Dickens says in that novel?" said Axton, slowly. -"'Circumstances may accumulate so strongly even against an innocent -man that, directed, sharpened, and pointed, they may slay him.'"</p> - -<p>"True, true," answered Fanks, approvingly nodding his head; "such -things have occurred before."</p> - -<p>"And may occur again," cried Axton, with a look of apprehension. "I -know that you suspect me; I know that circumstantial evidence could be -brought against me which would put my life in danger; but on my soul, -Fanks, I am innocent of Melstane's death."</p> - -<p>"I feel certain you are," answered Octavius, gently; "but, as you say, -circumstances are strong against you. Tell me everything without -reserve, and I may be able to advise you; otherwise, I am completely -in the dark."</p> - -<p>"I believe you are my friend, Fanks," said Roger, earnestly. "I -believe you know me too well to think I would be guilty of such a -dreadful crime. Yes; I will tell you everything, and place myself -unreservedly in your hands. But first tell me how it is you are so -sure it was murder and not suicide!"</p> - -<p>"Certainly! It is well we should both be on common ground for the -better understanding of your explanation. Regarding the death of this -Melstane, I own that at Jarlchester I was half inclined to believe in -the suicide theory, and had it not been for the name Ironfields on -that pill-box, which gave me a clue, would probably have acquiesced in -the verdict of the jury. Following up the clue, however, I went to the -chemists, Wosk & Co.'s, where the pills were made up, and discovered -that originally there were twelve in the box. I could account for -the disposal of six, so that ought to have left a balance of -half-a-dozen."</p> - -<p>"True! but if I remember, when I counted them at Jarlchester there -were eight."</p> - -<p>"Exactly! Two extra pills were placed in that box by some unknown -person whom I believe to be the murderer of Melstane."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I took the pills to Dr. Japix, and he analysed the whole -eight; seven were harmless tonic pills, the eighth compounded of -deadly morphia."</p> - -<p>"What!" cried Roger, starting to his feet, "and Melstane died of -morphia!"</p> - -<p>"He did! Now do you understand? The murderer, whoever he was, placed -two morphia pills sufficient to cause death in the box. Melstane took -one in complete innocence and died, the other was analysed by Japix -and found to contain sufficient morphia to kill two men."</p> - -<p>"It's wonderful how you have worked it out," said Roger, with hearty -admiration; "but how do you connect me with the murder?"</p> - -<p>"I did not say I connected you with the murder," replied Fanks, -hastily; "I only said there were suspicious circumstances against you. -For instance, you had morphia pills in your possession."</p> - -<p>"How do you know that?" asked Roger, with a start of surprise.</p> - -<p>"Japix told me."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and Japix prescribed them," cried Axton, starting to his feet. -"I own that does look suspicious; but I can set your mind at rest on -that point. Will you permit me to withdraw for a moment?"</p> - -<p>"Don't talk nonsense, Roger," said Fanks, angrily; "of course I will."</p> - -<p>Axton said nothing, but left the room, leaving Fanks considerably -puzzled as to the cause of his departure. In a few minutes, however, -he returned and placed in the detective's hands a box of pills.</p> - -<p>"There," he said, resuming his seat, "if you count those pills you -will find there are eleven. The original number was twelve; I only -took one, and finding it did me no good, left the rest in the box. Am -I correct?"</p> - -<p>"You are," replied Fanks, who had counted the pills; "there are eleven -here."</p> - -<p>"If you have any further doubts, you can ask Wosk & Co., who made up -the pills."</p> - -<p>"There is no need. I believe you."</p> - -<p>"But I would prefer your doing so," said Roger, urgently.</p> - -<p>"Very well," replied Fanks, calmly putting the box in his pocket; "I -will see about it to-morrow. But now you have set my mind at rest on -this point, and I have told you my story, tell me yours."</p> - -<p>Roger paled a little at this request, and remained silent for a few -moments.</p> - -<p>"Fanks," he said at last, with great solemnity, "you have your -suspicions of me now, and perhaps when I tell you all, you may -consider them to be confirmed. What then?"</p> - -<p>"What then?" echoed Fanks, cheerfully. "Simply this. Knowing -your character as I do, I don't believe you would be guilty of a -cold-blooded murder, so when you tell me your story we will put our -heads together and try to find out the true criminal."</p> - -<p>"I'll be only too glad to do that," said Roger, gratefully, "if only -to regain your confidence which I have lost."</p> - -<p>"Well, go on with your story."</p> - -<p>"I told you a good deal of it at Jarlchester," replied Axton, looking -at the fire thoughtfully; "but I will reveal now what I concealed -then. The first time I met Judith Varlins was in this town. I came -down with letters of introduction from a London friend to Mr. Marson, -and he made me free of his house—in fact, he wanted me to stay there; -but though I am poor I am proud, so preferred to put up at Binter's -Boarding-house."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know that place."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"I went there to see a Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"Then you saw an uncommonly good specimen of a scoundrel. He was a -great friend of Melstane's, and they both hated me like poison. I -don't know why Judas—that's his nickname here—did, but Melstane had -a grudge against me because I put a stop to his secret meetings with -Florry Marson by telling Judith."</p> - -<p>"Why did you do that?"</p> - -<p>"Because Melstane was such an out-and-out scoundrel that I did not -want him to marry that silly little thing. If he had done so, he would -have broken her heart. Well, when Judith became aware of these -meetings, she took Florry off to Ventnor. I escorted them to London, -where they stayed for a time, and then went on to the Isle of Wight. -Shortly afterwards I followed them. I told you all that took place -there. On our return to Ironfields about the middle of October, I -believed Melstane met Florry by stealth, and I taxed him with it. We -had a furious row, and I went off to London. While there I received a -letter from Miss Varlins, telling me that Florry was engaged to Mr. -Spolger, and that Melstane was leaving Ironfields for Jarlchester."</p> - -<p>"How did she know that?" asked Fanks, sharply.</p> - -<p>"I don't know; perhaps Florry told her. She, of course, could easily -learn it from her lover; but what puzzles me is why Melstane went to -Jarlchester at all."</p> - -<p>"You have no idea?" said Octavius, looking at him keenly.</p> - -<p>"Not the least in the world. I'm quite at sea as to his reasons."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Go on!"</p> - -<p>"Judith asked me to go to Jarlchester and await the arrival of -Melstane, in order to obtain from him a packet of letters written by -Florry, which he had in his possession."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Fanks, eagerly; "go on!"</p> - -<p>"I went down to Jarlchester ostensibly on a walking tour, and received -a second letter from Judith, telling me Melstane had left Ironfields, -and was on his way down. On the day he was expected to arrive, I went -for a walk, intending to return early. Unfortunately, however, I lost -my way and did not get back until late at night. I found Melstane had -arrived and gone to bed."</p> - -<p>"Did you ask if Mr. Melstane had arrived?"</p> - -<p>"No! I asked casually if a stranger had arrived, and they told me one -had come from London, and described him, so of course I knew him at -once."</p> - -<p>"But why all this mystery?"</p> - -<p>"Judith implored me to be careful," said Roger, quickly. "You see -Florry's good name was at stake, and I wanted to get the packet of -letters back with as little publicity as possible."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, you rather overdid the mystery business! Well, what did -you do when you found Melstane had gone to bed?"</p> - -<p>"I went to bed also, and made up my mind to see him the next morning. -Thinking of the letters, however, and knowing he was in the next room, -I could not sleep, so as it was not then twelve o'clock, I thought I -would go in and see him."</p> - -<p>"Curious thing to make a visit to a man's room at that time."</p> - -<p>"I dare say," replied Axton, tartly; "but you see, I was anxious to -get the letters, and knowing that Melstane was a nervous man, -particularly at night, I fancied I might get them back by playing on -his fears."</p> - -<p>"A most original idea!"</p> - -<p>"Rather wild, perhaps, but not without merit. Well, I put on my -things, took my candle, and went into his room."</p> - -<p>"Ho! ho! so it was you that left the door ajar!"</p> - -<p>"It was. I went into the room quietly, and saw he was sound asleep. On -the table near the bed was a bundle of letters which he had evidently -been reading."</p> - -<p>"How did you know it was the bundle you wanted?"</p> - -<p>"Because I recognised Miss Marson's writing on the top letter."</p> - -<p>"Well, seeing that was the bundle you were in search of, what did you -do?"</p> - -<p>"Rather a mean thing—I stole them."</p> - -<p>"Stole them! Upon my word, Roger, you are a nice young man!"</p> - -<p>"In fighting with a man like Melstane, I had to make use of his own -weapons," retorted Roger, coolly. "It seems dishonourable to you for -me to go into a man's room and steal a bundle of letters; but I was -dealing with a scoundrel; those letters contained the honour of a -young and inexperienced girl whom he held at his mercy. If I had -awakened him there would have been a row, he would have raised the -alarm, and I would have got into trouble, so I did the best thing—the -only thing to be done under the circumstances and stole the letters."</p> - -<p>"Did you see the pill-box when you were in the room?"</p> - -<p>"No, I was in such a hurry to go, having once secured what I wanted, -that I did not stop to look at anything, but went back to my room."</p> - -<p>"Leaving the door of No. 37 ajar," said Fanks, reprovingly, "foolish -man."</p> - -<p>"Ah! you see I was not experienced in midnight burglaries."</p> - -<p>"Well, after you got back to your own room, what did you do?"</p> - -<p>"I went to bed and slept soundly. Next morning I sent the packet of -letters to Judith, and went off on a stroll. When I came back at -night, I was horrified to learn Sebastian Melstane was dead. The rest -you know."</p> - -<p>"When you spoke to me, did you really and truly believe he had -committed suicide?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I did," replied Roger, honestly. "I thought he had found out the -loss of the letters, and seeing that his hold over Florry Marson was -lost, had committed suicide in desperation."</p> - -<p>"How did you account for the morphia?"</p> - -<p>"I didn't attempt to account for it. All I knew was that I had secured -the letters, that Melstane was dead, and that Florry was safe."</p> - -<p>"So that's all. I wish you had told me all this at Jarlchester."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I was afraid to do so. Look how black the case appears -against me. I fight with a man here; I follow him down to Jarlchester; -I have morphia pills in my possession; I go into his room at night, -and in the morning he is found dead of morphia. Why, if I had told all -this, I would have been arrested. Florry's name would have come up. -That infernal Monsieur Judas would have put his spoke in, and I would -very probably have been hanged on circumstantial evidence."</p> - -<p>"I don't wonder you were afraid," replied Octavius, thoughtfully; "but -seeing I was your friend, you might just as well have trusted me."</p> - -<p>"You are a detective."</p> - -<p>"I am your old schoolfellow."</p> - -<p>"Then you believe I am innocent?"</p> - -<p>"I do. If you were guilty, you would not have told a story so dead -against yourself."</p> - -<p>"Will you shake hands, then?" asked Roger, colouring and holding out -his hand.</p> - -<p>"By all means," replied Fanks, solemnly, and the two friends shook -hands with honest fervour.</p> - -<p>"Now, then," said Octavius, when this ceremony was concluded, "the -next thing to be done is to find out who killed Melstane."</p> - -<p>"It's an impossibility," cried Roger, in despair.</p> - -<p>"No, I don't say that," answered Fanks, coolly. "At Jarlchester I had -nothing to go upon, and yet look what I've discovered."</p> - -<p>"You are a genius, Octavius."</p> - -<p>"Egad! I've need to be to unravel this case," said Octavius, smiling. -"It's the most difficult affair I ever took in hand."</p> - -<p>"Do you suspect any one?"</p> - -<p>"I can't say at present till I get things more in order. The first -thing I want to know is, what were the contents of those letters?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot tell you. I did not read them, of course, but simply packed -them up and sent them to Miss Varlins."</p> - -<p>"Oh, then she has got them?"</p> - -<p>"No, she hasn't."</p> - -<p>"Where are they, then?"</p> - -<p>"Lost."</p> - -<p>"Lost How so?"</p> - -<p>"I can't tell you," said Roger, helplessly. "You see, Miss Varlins did -not want them sent to the Hall, as Florry Marson might have got hold -of them, and if she had, she's such a little fool, and was so much in -love with Melstane, that she probably would have sent them straight -back."</p> - -<p>"Well, as they did not go to the Hall, where did they go?"</p> - -<p>"To the post office in this place. The postmistress, however, knows -Miss Varlins, and had the packet been addressed in that name, would -have sent them up at once to the Hall. To make things safe, however, I -directed the letters to Miss Judith, Post Office, Suburban Ironfields, -and she was to call for them."</p> - -<p>"I suppose she called?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, every day, but the postmistress said no packet had arrived."</p> - -<p>"Strange! The postal arrangements are very good as a rule. Letters -don't often go astray. Addressed to Miss Judith, you say?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>Fanks pinched his chin thoughtfully between his finger and thumb, -looked frowningly at the fire, and then looked up suddenly:</p> - -<p>"Is the postmistress here intelligent?"</p> -<p>"No, the reverse. A snuffy old idiot."</p> - -<p>"Oh!" said Fanks, smiling to himself; "then I wouldn't be surprised if -she had delivered that packet to the wrong person."</p> - -<p>"But there's no one else about here called Judith."</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks did not reply, but leaving his chair, went to the sideboard -and brought back pen, ink, and paper, which he placed on the table -near Roger.</p> - -<p>"You're a very bad writer!" he said, calmly arranging the paper.</p> - -<p>"No worse than the usual run of literary men."</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry for the printers, if that is the case. The letter you sent -me here, saying you were coming, is most illegible."</p> - -<p>"Well, that letter has nothing to do with the case," said Roger, -impatiently.</p> - -<p>"I think it has a good deal to do with it, seeing it told me you were -coming down here," replied Fanks, coolly. "However, this is not to the -point. Take up that pen." Roger did so, looking considerably -bewildered at the manner in which his friend was behaving.</p> - -<p>"Now write me down the address you put on the packet." Axton obeyed -quickly, and produced the following scrawl:</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/note.png" alt="Handwritten address on packet"> -<br> -"Miss Judith, Post Office, Suburban Ironfields"</p> - -<p>"Humph!" said Fanks, looking at this specimen of caligraphy. "Most -careless writing. Observe; you use the old-fashioned 's.' You don't -dot your 'i's,' nor cross your 't's,' and, moreover, you curve your -'i' towards the next letter in the fashion of 'a.' So far so good. Now -write M. Judas."</p> - -<p class="center"><img src="images/judas.png" alt="Handwritten 'M. Judas'"><br> -Handwritten 'M. Judas'</p> - -<p>Roger did so with no idea of what his friend had in his mind.</p> - -<p>"There," observed Fanks, when this was completed, "do you see much -difference between Judith and Judas, according to your writing?"</p> - -<p>"No," said Roger, honestly, looking at them, "I can't say that I do. -But what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I mean that the postmistress—old and stupid, as you say she is—has -made a mistake, and delivered the packet to Monsieur Judas."</p> - -<p>"Absurd!"</p> - -<p>"Not at all. Judith Varlins is generally called Miss Varlins, I -presume, so the Christian name Judith would not occur to this old -woman. On the other hand, the odd name Judas would, and knowing that -extraordinary-looking Frenchman to be called Judas, she—I mean the -postmistress—would naturally hand the packet over to him."</p> - -<p>"But surely he would refuse to receive it?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know so much about that. In the first place, he might have -thought the packet was for him, and in the second, his natural -curiosity would make him take it home to examine. When he found what -the packet contained, he kept it."</p> - -<p>"But why should he keep it?"</p> - -<p>"How dense you are, Roger!" said Fanks, irritably. "He was a friend of -Melstane's, and seeing the letters were addressed to Melstane, he very -likely kept them by him to return to his brother scamp."</p> - -<p>"Then you think Monsieur Judas has the packet?"</p> - -<p>"I'm certain of it. We'll call and see what we can do to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"All right; but why are you so anxious to get the packet?"</p> - -<p>"For several reasons. I believe that packet to contain letters to -Melstane, not only from Miss Marson, but from her father also; and I -further believe," continued Fanks, sinking his voice to a whisper, -"that in that packet is contained the secret of Melstane's death."</p> - -<p>"But you surely don't suspect Mr. Marson?" cried Roger, aghast.</p> - -<p>Octavius rolled up the paper upon which Roger had been writing and -threw it into the fire as he answered, with marked emphasis on the -latter part of his reply:</p> - -<p>"I suspect no one—at present."</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From A Detective's Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>". . . I feel much more at ease now I have seen Roger . . . He has -explained away my suspicions . . . It is true that his story tells -very much against him, but to my mind this fact assures me of his -innocence, as no guilty man would tell a story so much against himself -. . . Yes, I am sure he is not guilty . . . He acted foolishly in -obeying Miss Varlins' instructions—in keeping the truth from me at -Jarlchester . . . Nevertheless, his conduct has not been that of a -guilty man, and whosoever poisoned Sebastian Melstane, it was -certainly not Roger Axton . . .</p> - -<p>". . . I am much troubled about the disappearance of those letters, -and would like to see them . . . There must be something in them which -may throw light on this mysterious affair . . . I have no grounds for -declaring this, but I think so . . . If Mr. Marson, who did not want -his daughter to marry Melstane, wrote, his letters must be in that -packet . . . It is his letters I wish to see . . . Now, however, by -the unfortunate mistake of the postmistress, the letters are in the -possession of Judas . . . This again implicates him in the affair -. . . I don't like the attitude of Judas at all . . . Could he—but -no, it's impossible; he has no motive . . . Sebastian Melstane was his -friend, so there was no reason he should wish him out of the way -. . . I believe that Judas holds the letters in order to make capital -out of them with Mr. Marson . . . I'll thwart him on the point, -however . . .</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To see the postmistress to-morrow and find out for certain if -the packet was delivered—as I verily believe—to Judas."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_10" href="#div1Ref_10">Chapter 10</a></h4> -<h5>The Missing Letters</h5> -<br> - -<p>Suburban Ironfields being, as has been stated, a poor relation of the -opulent city, fared badly enough in all respects, after the fashion of -all poor relations. Every comfort, every luxury, every improvement -pertaining to nineteenth century civilisation was to be found in -Ironfields itself; but the quondam village from whence it had sprung -retained many of its primitive barbarisms.</p> - -<p>This was especially the case with the post office, a low-roofed, dingy -little house squeezed into an odd corner of the crooked main street, -and presided over by an elderly lady named Mrs. Wevelspoke and her son -Abraham. Ironfields magnates—dwellers in the palatial residences -beyond the village—received their correspondence straight from the -prompt, businesslike office of the city itself; but this unhappy -little town depended for the transmission and delivery of its letters -on old Mrs. Wevelspoke and her snail-footed son.</p> - -<p>Many complaints had been made about the disgraceful way in which this -place was conducted; but as the complainants were mostly poor people, -no attention was paid to their remonstrances, and Mrs. Wevelspoke and -her son went on in their own quiet way, delivering letters late, -delivering them to the wrong people, and very often not delivering -them at all.</p> - -<p>The postmistress herself was a snuffy old woman of great antiquity, -with a shrivelled face, two dull eyes like those of a dead codfish, a -toothless mouth, and a wisp of straggling gray hair generally hidden -under a dingy black straw bonnet with rusty velvet trimmings; she wore -a doubtfully black gown, which had acquired a greenish tinge from -great age, a tartan shawl of faded colours pinned over her bony -shoulders, and rusty mittens on her skinny hands. She always wore her -bonnet—it was her badge, her symbol, her sign of authority; and -although, perhaps, she did not, as scandal averred, sleep in it all -night, she certainly wore it all day. She was deaf, too, and spoke to -other people in a shrill, loud voice, like a querulous wind, as if she -thought, as she did, that they suffered from the same infirmity. She -was also doubtful as to her powers of vision, so it can easily be seen -that the Suburban Ironfielders had good ground for complaint against -her. As to Abraham, he was a dull-looking youth, who thought of -nothing but eating, and only delivered the letters because walking -gave him an appetite for his meals. He never hurried himself, and at -the present moment was deliberating as to whether he would then take -the letters in his hand to their recipients, or let them wait until -the afternoon.</p> - -<p>"Now then, Abraham," piped Mrs. Wevelspoke, viciously, "ain't you gone -yet?"</p> - -<p>"You see I ain't," growled Abraham, in a fat voice.</p> - -<p>"Don't say you won't go," said his mother, shrilly, "'cause you've got -to earn bread and butter. Not that it's good, for that baker's failin' -off awful, and as to the butter, it ain't got nothin' to do with the -cows, I'm certin. But bread and butter's butter an' bread, so git out -and git it."</p> - -<p>"I'm goin', I'm goin'!" grumbled Abraham, slowly, putting on his hat, -"but I ain't well, mar, I ain't. That corfee's a-repeatin' of itself -like 'istory, an' the h'eggs weren't fresh! Poach 'em, fry 'em, or -biled, they taste of the chicken."</p> - -<p>"Pickin'," said Mrs. Wevelspoke, giving her rusty bonnet a hitch, -"pickin' up the letters, which you don't do, Abraham. Do 'urry, -there's a good boy. Mrs. Wosk is waitin' for that blue un—a bill, -maybe—and Mr. Manks is gettin' noos of 'is son from Australy in that -thin paper un, an' there's Drip and Pank and Wolf all waitin' to 'ear -the 'nocker, so lose no time, my deary."</p> - -<p>"It's all right as I don't lose no letters, mar," retorted Abraham, -going to the door. "I'm orf, I am, mar. I'll be back by six, mar, and -do see arter the tripe yourself; it don't agree overcooked."</p> - -<p>When Abraham had departed, his parent busied herself with sorting the -letters and newspapers into their respective pigeon-holes, communing -with herself aloud as she glanced at the addresses on each.</p> - -<p>"Drat 'em!" she said, alluding to the writers of the letters. "Where's -their eddication, as they don't write plain? If I were a Board School, -which I ain't, I'd school-board 'em, with their curly 'p's' and -'q's,' as like pigs' tails as ever was, to say nothin' of leavin' the -'i's' and 't's' undone for want of dottin'. 'Ow do they expect 'em to -be delivered straight wen I ain't no scholard to read their -alphabets?"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Wevelspoke," said a full, rich voice proceeding from a lady on -the outside of the counter.</p> - -<p>"P-h'o-h's-t," spelt Mrs. Wevelspoke, slowly, not hearing that she -was called, and not seeing that any one was present by reason of -her back being turned; "that spells post, but it don't look like one. -M.—that's for Mary, I dare say; M. J-u-h'l-e-h's; ho, it's for that -Judas thing at Wosk's. If 'is name's Judas, why do he call himself -G-u—"</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Wevelspoke," repeated the lady, rapping her umbrella on the -counter quickly, "is that letter for me?" The postmistress, having a -faint idea that she heard some distant noise, turned round slowly, and -saw Miss Varlins leaning forward with an eager look on her face.</p> - -<p>"Is that letter for me?" she repeated, pointing to the envelope still -in Mrs. Wevelspoke's hand.</p> - -<p>"This un?" said Mrs. Wevelspoke, seeing by the gesture what was meant. -"Oh dear, no, Miss Varlins. Your name ain't Mary—nor July, I take -it."</p> - -<p>"But it's Judith."</p> - -<p>"What?" asked Mrs. Wevelspoke, deafly.</p> - -<p>"Judith," said Miss Varlins, very loudly.</p> - -<p>"Oh, your fust name, miss. You speak so muddled like, mum, as I can't -make out your 'ollerin', miss. But if your fust name's Judith, mum, -your last ain't—ain't G-u-i-h'n-h'a-u-d."</p> - -<p>"Mrs. Wevelspoke, let me look at the letter, please," cried Judith, -impatiently, taking the envelope from the old woman. "I can tell you -if it's for me in a moment."</p> - -<p>It certainly was not for her, as the direction was plain enough:</p> -<div style="margin-left:20%; font-size:smaller"> -<p>"M. Jules Guinaud<br> -c/o Wosk & Co.,<br> -Chemists,<br> -Suburban Ironfields."</p> -</div> - -<p>"No, it's not for me," said Miss Varlins, handing it back reluctantly -with a sigh of regret. "But are you sure you have no packet addressed -to Miss Judith?"</p> - -<p>"It ain't for her," said Mrs. Wevelspoke, putting the Frenchman's -letter into the pigeon-hole marked "J." "You want a letter, I s'pose, -miss?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"There ain't no Varlins," said Mrs. Wevelspoke, after a cursory glance -at the "V's". "No, miss, your letters is all sent to the 'All."</p> - -<p>"This letter I want was addressed to Miss Judith, and would not be -sent to the Hall."</p> - -<p>"To 'Judas'?" said Mrs. Wevelspoke, catching the name wrongly. "Ho, -his letters go to the shop, mum."</p> - -<p>"I thought as much," remarked a quiet voice behind Miss Varlins, as -she turned to find herself face to face with the speaker and Roger -Axton.</p> - -<p>"We've been listening, Miss Varlins," explained Roger, hastily, as she -shook hands with him. Then seeing the startled look on her face, he -went on hurriedly: "I can explain the reason, but first let me -introduce Mr. Rixton, a friend of mine."</p> - -<p>Judith bowed coldly, and waited for Roger's promised explanation, -which was to be given by the gentleman called Mr. Rixton.</p> - -<p>"Allow me, my dear Roger," he said, genially. "The fact is, Miss -Varlins, my friend here told me about this packet of letters addressed -to you as 'Miss Judith,' and I put forward a theory accounting for -their non-delivery, so Mr. Axton and myself came here to see if my -theory was correct."</p> - -<p>"But what is your theory?" asked Judith, rather bewildered.</p> - -<p>"That the letters were delivered by that old woman to Monsieur Judas, -instead of to you."</p> - -<p>"But Judas is a nickname," said Miss Varlins, quickly; "all his -letters would be addressed to Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"Quite correct," replied Octavius, quietly, "but with such an -unintelligent postmistress mistakes are sure to occur. I'm pretty -certain she delivered the packet to our red-headed friend, and I'm -going to try to find out. You posted the packet at Jarlchester on the -13th of this month, did you not, Roger?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; on the morning of the 13th."</p> - -<p>"Then it would get to London late in the afternoon, and go on to -Ironfields at once. I should think it would be ready for delivering -here about midday on the 15th. Did you call here on the 15th, Miss -Varlins?"</p> - -<p>"No; I did not expect the packet so soon. But I came next day."</p> - -<p>"Too late, I'm afraid," said Octavius, advancing to the counter. -"Here, old lady. Was there a letter here on the 15th, directed to Miss -Judith?"</p> - -<p>"Judas!" replied Mrs. Wevelspoke for the second time. "Drat it, what's -come to the man, sir, as you're all talkin' of him? He's at Wosk's if -you want him."</p> - -<p>"Did you send any letters to him this month?" asked Fanks, loudly.</p> - -<p>"Letters! all his letters go to the shop," retorted Mrs. Wevelspoke, -obstinately.</p> - -<p>"Were there any this month—November?"</p> - -<p>"Remember!" cried the postmistress, twitching her bonnet, "of course I -remember—I can remember things afore you were born, young man. I -sends all letters to Mr. Judas at the shop. Two this month, and -there's another waitin' 'im."</p> - -<p>"Let me see it!" said Fanks, quickly glancing at Roger, "it may reveal -something, Miss Varlins."</p> - -<p>"Steal," remarked Mrs. Wevelspoke, sharply. "No, you don't steal here, -sir! I'm an honest woman, I am."</p> - -<p>"And a very stupid one," said Fanks, ruefully, in despair at getting -any information out of this old dame.</p> - -<p>"I have seen the letter she talks about, Mr. Rixton," said Miss -Varlins, quickly, "and it is not the one we want."</p> - -<p>At this moment Abraham rolled into the office, and Fanks at once -pounced on him as being more likely to give information than his -superior.</p> - -<p>"Oh, here's the postman," he cried, radiantly. "Here, postman, did you -deliver a letter to Monsieur Guinaud at Wosk's shop about the -beginning of this month?"</p> - -<p>"I can't tell State secrets," said Abraham in his fat voice, "it's -treesin."</p> - -<p>"Oh, you won't come to Tower Hill for telling me this," replied Fanks, -good-humouredly.</p> - -<p>"I don't know nothin' about your Tower Hills," growled the portly one, -sulkily, "but I ain't going to tell nothin', I ain't. Mother and me's -sworn, we are."</p> - -<p>Fanks did not want his true occupation to be known, but he saw -perfectly well that he would get nothing out of the faithful Abraham -unless he adopted strong measures, so he made up his mind how to act -at once.</p> - -<p>"Look here, my man," he said, taking Abraham to one side and speaking -sharply. "I'm a detective, and you must give me a plain answer to a -plain question."</p> - -<p>"I ain't bin doin' nothin' wrong," whimpered Abraham, edging away from -the representative of the law; "I'll tell you anythin' you like as -long as it isn't State secrets."</p> - -<p>"This isn't a State secret," said Fanks, quickly, putting a -half-a-crown into the lad's fat hand; "just tell me if you delivered a -thick packet to Monsieur Guinaud on the 15th of this month?"</p> - -<p>The faithful servant of the State was not proof against bribery, so he -answered at once:</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir, I did! Only the letter was to Monsieur Judas."</p> - -<p>"Not to Miss Judith?"</p> - -<p>"Lor, sir, I don't know; mother said it were Monsieur Judas, and as -there's only one Judas here, I took it to him."</p> - -<p>"At Wosk & Co.?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Did he take it?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir."</p> - -<p>"Very well, that will do," said Fanks, in a gratified tone; "now hold -your tongue and say nothing to nobody."</p> - -<p>"But mother, sir!"</p> - -<p>"Not even to your mother. If you told her, all the town would hear, -she's so deaf."</p> - -<p>So Abraham the faithful grinned, and slipping his half-a-crown into -his pocket, retired, while Fanks went outside, where he found Judith -seated in her carriage and Roger talking to her.</p> - -<p>"It is as I thought," said Octavius, anticipating their questions; -"the postman told me he delivered the packet to Judas."</p> - -<p>Judith uttered an exclamation of horror, upon hearing which the -detective glanced sharply at her.</p> - -<p>"Are you afraid of Judas seeing those letters?" he asked, quickly.</p> - -<p>Miss Varlins passed her handkerchief across her dry lips, and after a -pause answered with great deliberation, showing thereby how strong was -her self-control.</p> - -<p>"I don't know anything of the man," she said, quickly, "beyond that he -was a friend of Mr. Melstane; but that in itself is sufficient to make -me anxious. The letters contain nothing more than the usual romantic -nonsense a girl would write. At the same time, knowing this Frenchman -to be, as I verily believe, an unscrupulous wretch, I am afraid he may -use the letters for his own ends."</p> - -<p>"But what can he gain by showing them," said Fanks, sagaciously, -"seeing they contain nothing of importance?"</p> - -<p>He spoke with such pointed significance and emphasis that Judith, -fiery-tempered by nature, flashed out suddenly with great spirit.</p> - -<p>"I don't know how much Mr. Axton has told you, sir, but I question -your right to speak to me in this manner."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Fanks doesn't mean anything," interposed Roger, unthinkingly.</p> - -<p>"Fanks!" cried Judith, with a start, looking at Octavius, "I thought -your name was Rixton?"</p> - -<p>"My real name is Rixton," said Fanks, glancing reproachfully at Roger, -"but I use the name of Octavius Fanks—"</p> - -<p>"For your detective business," finished Judith, coolly. "Oh, you need -not look surprised, sir. I have read the Jarlchester Mystery, and I -know you have the case in hand."</p> - -<p>"If that is so, perhaps you will help me in the matter?"</p> - -<p>"I—I cannot help you," she said, faintly, again passing the -handkerchief over her lips.</p> - -<p>"You can in one way," said Fanks, quietly.</p> - -<p>She looked at him sharply, but unable to read anything on his -impassive countenance, threw herself back in the carriage with an -uneasy laugh.</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"By letting me read those letters now in the possession of Judas."</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>She said it so firmly that both Fanks and Axton glanced at her in -surprise, upon which she leaned forward with a pale face, and spoke -hurriedly.</p> - -<p>"There is nothing—really nothing in those letters beyond foolish -girlish talk; I assure you, Mr. Rixton, there is nothing at all."</p> - -<p>"Then why refuse to let me see them?" asked Octavius, quickly.</p> - -<p>"They are private."</p> - -<p>"Not when the law desires to see them. I am the law, and I intend to -see those letters."</p> - -<p>"What do you mean, Fanks?" said Roger, angrily, indignant at this tone -being used to Miss Varlins.</p> - -<p>"What I say," responded Fanks, coolly. "Axton, Miss Varlins, this case -is in my hands, and I am determined to find out who killed Sebastian -Melstane, and for reasons of my own I wish to see those letters. Will -you let me look at them?"</p> - -<p>Judith twisted her handkerchief in her gloved hands evidently trying -to control herself, then putting up one hand to her throat, gave a -hysterical laugh.</p> - -<p>"Yes, on one condition.</p> - -<p>"And that condition?"</p> - -<p>"That you let me look over them before you read them."</p> - -<p>The detective fixed his hawk-like eyes on her face, as if he would -drag the meaning of the words from her unwilling lips, but she gave no -sign likely to guide him, and seeing that he had to deal with a will -as iron as his own, compromised the matter.</p> - -<p>"You can look over them," he said, calmly, "in my presence."</p> - -<p>Roger Axton turned furiously on his friend.</p> - -<p>"How dare you insult Miss Varlins?" he said, fiercely. "Are you a -gentleman?"</p> - -<p>"I am a detective," replied Fanks, significantly.</p> - -<p>"There is no need to quarrel, gentlemen," said Judith, quietly. "I -agree to Mr. Rixton's request. If you will both get into the carriage -we can drive to Wosk's, obtain the letters, and settle Mr. Rixton's -doubts at once."</p> - -<p>Fanks bowed in silence, and stepped into the carriage without further -remark, but Roger turned sullenly away. "Thank you, I prefer not to -come," he said, stiffly.</p> - -<p>"I want you to come, please," observed Fanks, quietly. Roger did not -reply, but looked at Judith, who made him an almost imperceptible -sign, upon which he sprang in without further objection, and the -carriage went on to the chemist's at once. Octavius had noticed the -sign, and wondered thereat, but like a wise man said nothing.</p> - -<p>"I can afford to wait," he thought, rapidly; "but I wish I saw the end -of this case. I'm afraid of what I may find out."</p> - -<p>At the door of the shop of Wosk & Co. they all alighted, and Miss -Varlins, followed by the two men, entered. Judas came forward as they -stood by the counter, and on seeing his visitors narrowed his eyes -down at once to their most dangerous expression.</p> - -<p>"Humph!" thought Fanks, grimly, "Judas knows our errand."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Guinaud," said Judith, calmly, "there was a packet directed -to Miss Judith at the post office here, which, I learn, was delivered -to you by mistake. May I ask you to return it to me?"</p> - -<p>Judas shot a glance of amazement at Fanks, with whom he credited this -tracking of the letters, and opening his crafty eyes to their widest, -looked guilelessly at the lady.</p> - -<p>"Mais oui, mademoiselle," he said, with a shrug, "de lettres you do -tell me of are with me. C'est bien certain ze postage was mistook. -Mais why to you I gif zem?"</p> - -<p>"Because the packet was meant for me."</p> - -<p>"Yes; I posted it," said Roger, quickly. "It was given to you by -mistake."</p> - -<p>"It is de name 'Mademoiselle Judith," observed Guinaud, doubtfully.</p> - -<p>"Which was how the mistake occurred," explained Fanks, easily. "Come, -Monsieur Guinaud, hand over those letters at once, if you please."</p> - -<p>"Eh, très-bien," answered Judas, promptly. "I haf no wis to them keep. -Zey are nosing to me. I did not know ze person zey were to."</p> - -<p>"Well, you know now," cried Fanks, sharply. "Please give them to this -lady without delay."</p> - -<p>"Mais certainement," replied the Frenchman, with a bow. "Pardon, -monsieur."</p> - -<p>He retired quickly, and in a few minutes returned with the packet of -letters—open.</p> - -<p>"Have you read these?" cried Judith, indignantly, as she took the -packet.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas smiled in a deprecating manner, and shook his head.</p> - -<p>"I am a man of the honour, mademoiselle," he said with great dignity, -"an' I haf not read ze lettres. I tawt de lettres pour moi, and I did -open zem. But wen I do zee zem in anglais I see it is mistook, an' -read zem not."</p> - -<p>Fanks kept his eyes on Judas as he spoke, to see if he was speaking -the truth, but was quite unable to arrive at any decision, so calm was -the Frenchman's voice, so immobile the expression of his face.</p> - -<p>"Well, at all events we have got the letters," he said to Miss -Varlins. "And now—"</p> - -<p>"Now you can take them home to read," replied Miss Varlins, -contemptuously, tossing the packet to him.</p> - -<p>"But are you not going to examine them?"</p> - -<p>"I have done so."</p> - -<p>"Are all the letters there?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," cried Judas, "do you tink—"</p> - -<p>"I'm addressing Miss Varlins," retorted Fanks, coldly. "Are all the -letters there, Miss Varlins?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think so," she replied, with faint hesitation.</p> - -<p>"You are not sure?"</p> - -<p>"As sure as I can be," she replied, keeping her temper wonderfully. "I -think they are all there. Will you please read the letters, and then -return them to me?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly."</p> - -<p>"Thank you. Good morning," replied Judith, coldly. "Mr. Axton."</p> - -<p>Roger bowed and conducted her to the carriage, while Fanks, with the -bundle of letters in his hands, stood looking after her in an -irresolute manner.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he felt a cold touch on his hand, and turned round to see -Judas looking at him with a strange smile on his crafty face.</p> - -<p>"You are afraid," he said, in French.</p> - -<p>"Of what?" answered Fanks, coldly.</p> - -<p>"Of those," pointing to the letters; "of her," indicating Judith; "of -him," nodding in the direction of Roger; "of all. You are afraid, -monsieur, of what you may discover."</p> - -<p>Fanks looked steadily at him, made no reply, and walked quickly out of -the shop.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_11" href="#div1Ref_11">Chapter 11</a></h4> -<h5>No Smoke Without Fire</h5> -<br> - -<p>This is the episode of Mr. Spolger, which came about in this wise. -Roger was very indignant with his friend for speaking so plainly to -Judith, and told him so in somewhat strong language when the carriage -had departed. Fanks said nothing at first, being much exercised in his -own mind over the peculiar attitude taken up towards him by Miss -Varlins, but Axton was so very free in his condemnations, that for the -moment he lost his self-control, and answered sharply.</p> - -<p>"I've taken up this case, Roger, and I intend to carry it out to the -bitter end, if only for your sake; but you must let me act in every -way as I think best, otherwise—"</p> - -<p>"Otherwise!" repeated Axton, angrily, as Octavius paused.</p> - -<p>"I will throw up the whole affair."</p> - -<p>"No, you must not do that," said Roger, quickly. "I want to see the -end of this for my own sake, as you very truly say, so don't leave me -in the lurch for the sake of a few hasty words. But you must admit, -old fellow, that you spoke rather sharply to Judith."</p> - -<p>The philosophic Fanks thereupon recovered his temper and said -sententiously:</p> - -<p>"Women are the devil."</p> - -<p>"Eh, how so?"</p> - -<p>"They cause trouble whenever they get mixed up in any affair. This -case was difficult yesterday; to-day it is more difficult because -feminine influence is now at work."</p> - -<p>"With whom?"</p> - -<p>"With me, with you, with Judas, with us all. May I say something -without being thought rude?"</p> - -<p>"If it's about Judith—"</p> - -<p>"It is about Judith."</p> - -<p>"Then don't say it," retorted Roger, in a huff.</p> - -<p>"Very well," replied Fanks, resignedly; "but if you take away my -guiding stars I'll never find my way across the ocean of mystery."</p> - -<p>Roger made no reply, but walked on rapidly with a frown on his -good-looking face. Suddenly he stopped so dead short that Fanks, also -using his legs in no slow fashion, shot past him a yard or so before -he could pull up.</p> - -<p>Quoth Roger savagely:</p> - -<p>"Say your say and have done with it."</p> - -<p>Mr. Fanks surveyed his friend with a quiet smile, and then took him -gently by the arm.</p> - -<p>"Come and have luncheon with me," he said, persuasively.</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"They've got an excellent cook at the 'Foundryman.'"</p> - -<p>"I won't come."</p> - -<p>"I can give you a good bottle of claret."</p> - -<p>Axton exploded furiously.</p> - -<p>"Confound it, Fanks, why do you treat me like a child?"</p> - -<p>"Because you are one at present."</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed," said Roger, with a sneer, "from your point of view."</p> - -<p>"From a common-sense point of view," replied Fanks, with great -good-humour. "Come, don't be silly, my good fellow! You're sore -because I don't worship your idol. Be easy, I'll do so when this case -is finished."</p> - -<p>"But if—"</p> - -<p>"Oh, come to luncheon," said Fanks, and marched him off without -further parley.</p> - -<p>The luncheon was good, both as regards victuals and wine, while Fanks, -in the capacity of host, behaved in a wondrously genial fashion, so by -the time they finished and were smoking socially by the fire, Roger -had quite recovered his temper, and felt ashamed of his fit of -ill-humour.</p> - -<p>"But you know," he said, guiltily, "I'm in love."</p> - -<p>"Business first, pleasure afterwards," quoth the philosopher, sagely.</p> - -<p>"Apropos of what?"</p> - -<p>"This case. I know you are in love, I know the lady you love. I quite -approve of that love. Marriage, however, should begin with no secrets -between man and wife."</p> - -<p>"Pish!"</p> - -<p>"In this case the wife would have a secret from the husband."</p> - -<p>"Rubbish!"</p> - -<p>"It may be, but it's rubbish that concerns those letters."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps you'll accuse Judith of the murder," cried Roger, in great -wrath.</p> - -<p>A blank wall would have been more expressive than the face of the -detective.</p> - -<p>"Why didn't she want me to read those letters?" he asked, quietly.</p> - -<p>"There are the letters—read them."</p> - -<p>"Thank you," replied Fanks, imperturbably, "I will." And he did so -slowly and carefully, taking note of the dates and arranging the -letters in due order. Having finished, he tied the letters up again -and handed them over to Roger.</p> - -<p>"Please deliver them to Miss Judith."</p> - -<p>"Oh, ho," said Roger, slipping the parcel into his pocket. "So the -letters are no use to you?"</p> - -<p>"Not the letters that are there."</p> - -<p>"What, do you think some of the letters are missing?"</p> - -<p>"I'm certain of it."</p> - -<p>"Then who is the thief?"</p> - -<p>"Judas."</p> - -<p>"Oh!"</p> - -<p>Roger flung himself back in his chair with a sigh of relief, as if he -had half expected to hear another name, and that a name similar in -sound.</p> - -<p>"There are in that bundle," said Fanks, gravely, "letters written at -Ironfields—so far so good. But they are only silly girlish letters!"</p> - -<p>"As Judith told you!"</p> - -<p>"Exactly, as Judith told me," responded Octavius, suavely, "but I want -to see the letters written in London and in Ventnor."</p> - -<p>"Perhaps she never wrote any in those two places."</p> - -<p>"Humph! the chances are she did."</p> - -<p>"You are excessively mysterious," said Roger, sarcastically, "but the -question can easily be settled. Ask Miss Marson herself."</p> - -<p>"I thought I heard Miss Varlins say she was ill!"</p> - -<p>"So she is, poor child," said Roger, soberly; "I blurted out the fact -of Melstane's death too suddenly, and she fainted. Now she is very -ill."</p> - -<p>"Oh! brain fever?"</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid so!"</p> - -<p>"In that case I can get nothing out of her," said Fanks, coolly; "it's -a pity. By the way, do you know who I think knows a good deal about -this case?"</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Judas."</p> - -<p>"You'll make a good detective some day," replied Fanks, approvingly. -"Yes! I mean Monsieur Judas. He's a crafty wretch, that same -Frenchman, and knows a good deal."</p> - -<p>"About Melstane and Miss Marson?"</p> - -<p>"Probably."</p> - -<p>"And Melstane's death?"</p> - -<p>"Possibly."</p> - -<p>"You don't suspect him?" asked Roger, breathlessly.</p> - -<p>"I don't suspect any one—at present, as I said before," replied -Fanks, with a sudden movement of irritation. "Confound it, the more I -go into this case the more mixed up it seems to get. It seems to me it -all depends on those pills. The box went from Wosk's shop into the -hands of Melstane, certainly—"</p> - -<p>"Yes, and it went from Melstane's hands into those of Spolger," said -Axton, with sudden recollection.</p> - -<p>"What do you mean?" asked Fanks, eagerly.</p> - -<p>Whereupon, Roger, in a terrible state of excitement, told his friend -all about Melstane's interview with Spolger—of the pill-box left -behind, and of the sending of it back to Melstane.</p> - -<p>"And don't you see, Fanks," cried Axton, in great excitement, "Spolger -is a bit of a chemist, so he could easily put in the two extra pills -before he sent back the box. Melstane would never suspect, and so -would come by his death. Oh, Spolger's the man who killed Melstane, -I'm certain of it."</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit," said Fanks, rapidly making a few notes in his -pocket-book. "When a crime is committed, the first thing is to look -for a motive. Now, what motive had Spolger for killing Melstane?"</p> - -<p>"Motive!" repeated Roger, in amazement, "the strongest of all motives. -He was in love with Florry and wanted to marry her. She, however, was -in love with Melstane, and while he lived Spolger had no chance. So of -course he removed his rival by death. It's as clear as daylight."</p> - -<p>"Why! 'of course'?" said the detective, putting his note-book in his -pocket. "Even love would hardly make a man like Spolger commit a -crime."</p> - -<p>"He's a scoundrel."</p> - -<p>"Eh! but a nervous one."</p> - -<p>"He's fond of Florry."</p> - -<p>"And fond of his own skin."</p> - -<p>"I tell you I'm convinced he committed the crime."</p> - -<p>"Don't jump to conclusions."</p> - -<p>"I'm not jumping to conclusions," retorted Axton, hotly. "Look at the -case, you blind bat. Spolger loves—adores Florry. He wants to marry -her, but finds out she won't have him because she loves another man. -Chance, by means of the forgotten pill-box, throws in his way the -means of injuring that other man. What is more natural? He takes -advantage of the chance."</p> - -<p>"Injuring a man doesn't mean killing him."</p> - -<p>"Who said it did? Put it in this way. Spolger intended to merely -injure him, but in making up the morphia pills he puts in too much of -the drug, and kills Melstane without intending to do so."</p> - -<p>"Theory! Pure theory!"</p> - -<p>"Well, as far as I can see, the case is all pure theory at present."</p> - -<p>"By no means. We have ascertained the cause of death; the way in which -the drug was taken; also a number of suspicious circumstances -connected with Melstane's past life. That's not all theory."</p> - -<p>"I think the most suspicious theory connected with Melstane's past -life is Monsieur Jules Guinaud, better known as Judas."</p> - -<p>"Because he has red hair and a crafty face," said Fanks, coolly.</p> - -<p>"No; because he loves Florry."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I think so."</p> - -<p>"Ah, that's theory," replied Fanks, nodding his head; "purely -theoretical, if you like. Well, we must be off."</p> - -<p>"Where to?"</p> - -<p>"To test your theory. I'm going to see Mr. Jackson Spolger."</p> - -<p>"He'll tell you nothing," said Axton, putting on his coat.</p> - -<p>"Perhaps not; but his face may. He's a nervous man. Japix told me -that, so if he knows anything about this murder, he may betray himself -unconsciously. Come along."</p> - -<p>So they went down into the sloppy street and hired a cab, but just as -they were going to step in, Fanks suddenly darted to the window of a -brougham standing a short distance away. It was a large brougham, and -contained a large man, who put out his head when he saw Fanks, and -roared out a welcome in a stentorian voice:</p> - -<p>"Hey, Monsieur Fouché!"</p> - -<p>"Don't advertise me so publicly, Japix."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! no one here knows Fouché. They think he's a Chinese."</p> - -<p>"It's best to be on the safe side, anyhow."</p> - -<p>"Very well, Mr. Rixton."</p> - -<p>"That's better. I say, Doctor, do you believe in patent medicines?"</p> - -<p>"No," roared Japix, indignantly, "I don't."</p> - -<p>"But I've been advised to take Spolger's Soother."</p> - -<p>"Then don't take it. Who advised you?"</p> - -<p>"A lady."</p> - -<p>"Humph! Only a woman would give such silly advice. If you're ill, come -to me like Spolger, and I'll cure you, but don't touch his medicine."</p> - -<p>"Is it dangerous?"</p> - -<p>"Not very. The pills are only bread, gum, and morphia."</p> - -<p>"Morphia?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; small quantity, of course. Not like that pill you gave me to -analyse the other day. Good heavens!" exclaimed Japix, as a sudden -idea struck him, "what do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"I'll tell you to-night."</p> - -<p>"When you come to dinner?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; can I bring Axton with me?"</p> - -<p>"By all means. Good day!"</p> - -<p>"Good day!" replied Fanks, and darted back to his cab, where he found -Roger awaiting him.</p> - -<p>"Roger," he said, when the vehicle started towards the Spolger -residence, "there may be something in that idea of yours after all."</p> - -<p>"I think so. But why do you say that?"</p> - -<p>"Because I've just discovered that Spolger puts morphia in his pills."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_12" href="#div1Ref_12">Chapter 12</a></h4> -<h5>The Spolger Soother</h5> -<br> - -<p>The residence of Mr. Spolger, situate about a mile beyond the town, -was a large and particularly ugly building constructed on strictly -hygienic principles. The inventor of the "Soother" had lived in an -ancient mansion, badly drained and badly ventilated, which had been -erected many years before; but when his son entered in possession of -his inheritance, he had pulled down the old house, and built a -barrack-like structure in which beauty gave way entirely to utility. -Square, aggressively square, with walls of glaring white stone, it -stood in the midst of a large piece of ground perfectly denuded of -trees, as Mr. Spolger deemed trees damp and unhealthy, so the bare -space was gravelled and asphalted like a barrack-yard. Plenty of -staring plate-glass windows admitted light into the interior, which -was composed of lofty square rooms, lofty oblong corridors, all -smoothly whitewashed.</p> - -<p>The floors of polished wood, innocent of carpets, were dangerous to -the unwary, and the furniture, all of solid oak, was made for strength -rather than loveliness. There were few pictures on the walls, as Mr. -Spolger thought that looking at works of art strained the optic nerve, -and there were no draperies on the windows in case any disease might -lurk in them. The bare inside looked out on to the bare barrack -ground, and the treeless barrack ground looked into the glaring -inside, so it was all very nice and healthy and abominably ugly.</p> - -<p>In the midst of this fairy-like creation sat the proprietor thereof, -by a hot-air stove, wrapped in a woollen dressing-gown, and engaged in -measuring out his daily drops. A respectful manservant, wrinkled like -a snake, and black-clothed like a rook, stood beside Mr. Spolger with -a small printed form of directions, which he was reading for his -master's information, with regard to the effects of the drops. The -servant, Gimp by name, was moist about the eyes, a fact which -suggested drink, and he read the dull little pamphlet in a subdued -whisper which was pleasant to the ears of the valetudinarian.</p> - -<p>"The effect of these drops," droned Gimp, with a weary sigh, for the -pamphlet was by no means exciting, "is to raise the spirits. Mrs. -Mopps, of Whitechapel, who suffered from rheumatics engendered by her -daily occupation of charing, was advised to try them by a humble -friend who had been cured by them of liver complaint. Mrs. Mopps did -so, and took four drops daily in a wine-glassful of gin. She is now -cured—"</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Spolger, with great satisfaction, "she is now cured."</p> - -<p>"And doesn't suffer more than three days a week," finished Gimp, in a -depressed tone.</p> - -<p>"Oh, she's not quite cured, then," observed his master, regretfully; -"it must have been the gin. Gin is so very bad."</p> - -<p>"Very bad, sir," replied Gimp, like a parrot.</p> - -<p>"It makes the eyes moist."</p> - -<p>Mr. Gimp closed his own eyes tightly, aware that they betrayed him; -but his master was too busy with his own ailments to trouble about the -looks of any one else, and went on carefully with his measuring.</p> - -<p>"Eight," he said, handing the bottle back to Gimp, "I think that will -do for a beginning. How many diseases does it cure, did you say?"</p> - -<p>"Seven," said Gimp, drearily; "liver, rheumatism, headache, bed sores, -nerves, consumption, and delirious trimmings."</p> - -<p>"Quite an all-round medicine. I've got a liver, and I often have a -headache. I had rheumatism the winter before last; my nerves, of -course, I always have. Bed sores? No, I've not had bed sores—yet."</p> - -<p>"Not been in bed long enough, sir, I think," hinted Gimp, -respectfully.</p> - -<p>"No, quite right; but I may come to it. Consumption? Well, you know, -Gimp, I'm not quite sure of my lung? What's the last?"</p> - -<p>"Delirious trimmings, sir."</p> - -<p>"I've not had that—I don't think I ever will have it; drink is death -to me. I hope these drops will do me good. Give me the water, please. -Ah, there that's right. Now!"</p> - -<p>He drank off the mixture slowly, with the air of a connoisseur, and -gave the empty glass to the servant.</p> - -<p>"Not much taste, Gimp. No; I've tasted nastier. Put the glass away, -please. Have you heard how Miss Marson is to-day?"</p> - -<p>"Just the same, sir. Delirious."</p> - -<p>"Ah! how terrible! I wonder if those drops would do her good?"</p> - -<p>"I think not, sir," said Gimp, drifting towards the door; "it's 'er -'ead, ain't it, sir, not drink?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! You're quite right, Gimp. I must go over and see her again; -and the day's so damp. Oh, dear, dear! Close the door, please, there's -such a draught."</p> - -<p>Gimp did as he was told, and retreated noiselessly from the room, -after which Mr. Spolger went over all his ailments in his own mind to -make sure that he had forgotten none of them, examined his tongue in -the mirror, felt his pulse carefully, and having thus ministered to -his own selfishness, gave a thought to the lady he was engaged to.</p> - -<p>"Poor Florry!" he moaned thoughtfully, "how she must have loved that -man, and he wasn't healthy. I'm sure there was consumption in his -family. I wonder if she loves me as much. Ah, that faint was such a -shock to my nerves; so unexpected. I'd had pins and needles in the -left leg. That is the first sign of paralysis. Oh, I do hope I'm not -going to get paralysis."</p> - -<p>This idea so alarmed him that he arose hastily to see if his limbs -would support him, and fell back in his chair with a subdued shriek as -the shrill tones of an electric bell rang through the room.</p> - -<p>"The front-door bell," he said, peevishly. "Oh, my nerves! I must -really have the sound softened. I wonder who wants to see me. I won't -be seen. Who is it?"</p> - -<p>This question was addressed to Mr. Gimp, who had entered the room in -his usual stealthy manner, and now handed his master two cards.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Roger Axton and Mr. Octavius Fanks," read Spolger, slowly. "I -can't see them, Gimp, I really can't. The action of the drops demands -perfect quiet."</p> - -<p>"The gentlemen have druv from town, sir."</p> - -<p>"Well, they must just drive back again," said his master, crossly. "My -compliments, Gimp, and I'm too ill to see them."</p> - -<p>Gimp obediently retreated, but shortly afterwards returned with a curt -message.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Axton ses he must see you, sir."</p> - -<p>"Oh, dear, dear!" moaned Spolger, irritably, "those healthy people -have no consideration for an invalid. Well, if I must, Gimp, I must. -But I see them under protest. Let them understand distinctly—under -protest."</p> - -<p>Gimp once more disappeared, and on his reappearance ushered in Axton -and Fanks, whom Mr. Spolger received with peevish politeness.</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry I kept you waiting, gentlemen," he said, waving his hand, -"but my health, you know. I'm a mere wreck. I don't want to be jarred -on. Pray be seated! Mr. Axton, you don't look well. Mr.—Mr.—"</p> - -<p>"Fanks," said that gentleman, introducing himself, "Octavius Fanks, -detective."</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed," replied Spolger, starting, "a detective, eh! I think -I've seen your name in the papers lately."</p> - -<p>"Yes," said Axton, bluntly, "in connection with the Jarlchester -affair."</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed," repeated their host once more; "suicide, I believe, -although Mr. Melstane did look consumptive. I incline to the latter. -Now which idea do you favour, Mr. Fanks—suicide or consumption?"</p> - -<p>"Neither! It was a case of murder."</p> - -<p>"Murder!"</p> - -<p>Mr. Spolger jumped up in his chair as if he had been shot, and his -face turned a chalky white.</p> - -<p>"Pooh pooh!" he said at length, with an attempt at jocularity, -"absurd, monstrous! The jury said suicide."</p> - -<p>"I'm aware of that," responded Fanks, coolly, "but I don't agree with -the jury. Sebastian Melstane was murdered."</p> - -<p>"By whom?"</p> - -<p>"That's the mystery."</p> - -<p>Spolger said nothing, but wriggled uneasily in his chair under the -somewhat embarrassing gaze of his visitors, and at length burst out -into feeble protests against their candour.</p> - -<p>"Why do you speak to me like this? I don't know anything about -murders. They upset my nerves. I'm quite unstrung with all I've come -through. What with Miss Marson's illness, and Melstane's death, and -all kind of things, I'm quite uneasy in my mind."</p> - -<p>"What about?" asked Fanks, sharply.</p> - -<p>"I've mentioned what about," retorted Spolger, tartly. "I wish you -would go away."</p> - -<p>"So we will when you've answered our questions."</p> - -<p>"I won't answer any questions."</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, you will. It will be wiser for you to do so."</p> - -<p>"I—I—don't understand," stammered Spolger, feebly.</p> - -<p>"Then I'll explain," said Fanks, composedly. "Melstane died from -taking a morphia pill, which was placed in a box of tonic pills by -some unknown person."</p> - -<p>"And what's that got to do with me?"</p> - -<p>"Everything," said Axton, suddenly speaking. "Remember the story you -told at Mr. Marson's the other day. You had the box of tonic pills in -your possession for a time, and—"</p> - -<p>"Oh," interrupted Spolger, very indignantly. "And I suppose you'll say -that I put the morphia pill into the box in order to kill Melstane!"</p> - -<p>"That's the idea," said Fanks, coolly.</p> - -<p>"A very ridiculous one."</p> - -<p>"I don't see it. You did not like Melstane, because he was loved by -Miss Marson. You use morphia for your 'Soother,' so what was to -prevent your acting as you suggest?"</p> - -<p>"Don't—don't!" cried Spolger, putting out his shaking hands with a -sudden movement of terror. "You'll argue the rope round my neck before -I can defend myself. I did not like Melstane, certainly, but I had not -the slightest idea of killing him. I'll swear it."</p> - -<p>Fanks suddenly arose to his feet, and walked across the room to a -shelf whereon were displayed a number of drugs in glass bottles. The -invalid had risen to his feet, and was looking steadily at him, while -Axton, similarly fascinated by Fanks' actions, leaned forward to see -what he was doing.</p> - -<p>The detective's hand hovered lightly over the array of bottles, then -suddenly swooped down with the swiftness of a hawk upon one which he -bore to the table. It was a large glass bottle half filled with a -white powder, and labelled "Morphia."</p> - -<p>"There!" he said, as he placed it before Spolger, triumphantly.</p> - -<p>"I know that bottle. But what has that to do with this murder?"</p> - -<p>"Melstane died from morphia."</p> - -<p>"It's no good going over the old ground," said Spolger, with a scowl. -"I can easily prove my innocence. Please touch that bell, Mr. Axton."</p> - -<p>Roger did so, whereupon a shrill sound rang through the house, and Mr. -Spolger dropped back into his chair with an expression of acute -suffering on his face. Then Gimp made his appearance with such -marvellous rapidity that it was quite plain that he must have been -listening outside the door, but he walked into the room with the -utmost composure, and waited to be addressed.</p> - -<p>"Gimp," said his master, sharply, "do you remember the day Mr. -Melstane called?"</p> - -<p>"I do, sir."</p> - -<p>"Do you remember what took place?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly, sir."</p> - -<p>"Then tell these gentlemen all about it."</p> - -<p>Gimp at once addressed himself to Fanks, who stood by the table with -one hand on the jar of morphia and the other in his pocket, looking at -the servant to see if he was speaking the truth.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Melstane called, sir," said the respectable Gimp, deliberately, -"a few weeks ago to see my master. He saw him, and I believe, sir, -they had words."</p> - -<p>Spolger nodded his head to affirm that such was the case. "I was -called in, sir, to show Mr. Melstane out. I did so, and he swore -awful."</p> - -<p>"And after you showed Mr. Melstane out?"</p> - -<p>"I came back, sir, to this room, and found my master much -agitated—nerves, I think, sir."</p> - -<p>"Yes; a bad attack!"</p> - -<p>"My master pointed to a pill-box on the floor, and told me to run -after Mr. Melstane with it. I did so, but could not see him, so I took -the pill-box down to Mr. Melstane's lodgings that evening."</p> - -<p>"The pill-box was in your possession the whole time?"</p> - -<p>"Yes, sir! It was wrapped in white paper, and sealed with red wax, -sir. I didn't know it was a pill-box till master told me."</p> - -<p>"And I knew it was, because Melstane held it out to me and asked me if -I made pills like that," said Spolger, savagely. "Well, Mr. Axton, I -hope you are satisfied."</p> - -<p>"Perfectly," said Fanks, with great politeness; "but please tell me, -when did you use this morphia last?"</p> - -<p>"Not for months," replied Spolger; "the pills are made at the factory, -and I never trouble about them. I don't know if you've noticed it, -sir, in your desire to make out a case against me, but that bottle is -tied with string across the stopper and sealed."</p> - -<p>"Ah! that's the very thing I'm coming to. The seal is broken."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!" cried Spolger, coming to the table to examine the -bottle; "I haven't used it for a long time, and sealed it when I last -used it! Gimp, how is this?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sure I don't know, sir; the bottle ain't been touched to my -knowledge."</p> - -<p>"Does any one else come into this room?"</p> - -<p>"None of the servants," said Spolger, after a pause;</p> - -<p>"Gimp looks after everything here."</p> - -<p>"Oh! what about your visitors?"</p> - -<p>"Well, now and then I see some one here—just like yourselves."</p> - -<p>There was a faint hesitation in his tone, which Fanks was quick to -detect, and which prompted his next question: "Has Mr. Marson been in -here?"</p> - -<p>"Often!"</p> - -<p>"And Miss Varlins?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes! both the ladies have been here; but they would not touch any -of my drugs. They know how particular I am."</p> - -<p>Fanks said nothing, but remained for a time in meditative silence, -which Spolger broke by asking him if he would take some refreshment.</p> - -<p>"No, thank you," he replied, quickly. "I'm much obliged to you, sir, -for your courtesy. Are you ready, Roger?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, yes, I'm coming," said Axton, rising to his feet. "Have you heard -how Miss Marson is to-day, Spolger?"</p> - -<p>"Just the same, I believe."</p> - -<p>"Poor girl!"</p> - -<p>"Yes, it's dreadful!" responded Spolger, with a groan; "of course the -marriage will have to be put off. I'm not sorry, because I'm so upset. -Fancy being taken for a murderer!"</p> - -<p>"Oh! not as bad as that," said Fanks, good-naturedly; "I only thought -you might throw some light on the mysterious affair."</p> - -<p>"Well, I can't," said Spolger, curtly.</p> - -<p>"No; I see that. Good day, sir."</p> - -<p>"Good day," replied their host, with a bow. "I hope you'll be -successful in your search for the real criminal."</p> - -<p>Fanks made no reply, as he had his own idea regarding Mr. Spolger's -good wishes, but departed, followed by Axton; the last thing they -heard being the voice of the invalid complaining about the door being -left open.</p> - -<p>When they were seated in their cab and once more on their way to -Ironfields, Fanks broke the silence first.</p> - -<p>"Roger, it was a mare's nest after all."</p> - -<p>"Yes; he knows nothing."</p> - -<p>"I'm not so sure about that."</p> - -<p>"Do you mean to say he is concealing something?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what to say," said Fanks, testily, "but I think some one -else is concealing something."</p> - -<p>"Whom do you mean?"</p> - -<p>"You'll be angry if I tell you."</p> - -<p>"No, I won't. Who is it?"</p> - -<p>"Judith Varlins!"</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From A Detectives Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>". . . It is as I thought . . . The packet was delivered to Judas -. . . We (Roger and myself) met Miss Varlins by chance and had a very -strange interview with her . . . She did not want me to look at the -letters . . . I got my own way at last, when the packet was delivered -by Judas . . . She looked at the letters, and I saw an expression of -great relief on her face . . .</p> - -<p>"Query. Could she have written to Jarlchester to Melstane? . . . Were -there any letters there likely to implicate her in the crime? . . .</p> - -<p>". . . If so, those letters, I think, have been stolen, and by Judas -. . . However, I can't tell for certain . . . I looked over those -letters and found nothing . . . Strange! Query, What does Miss Varlins -mean by this strange conduct? . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Roger told me a queer story about Spolger concerning the -pill-box . . . We went up to see Spolger, but the whole affair turned -out to be a mare's nest . . . All my suspicions now point to Judith -Varlins . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Spolger and Axton have both proved their innocence of the -crime.</p> - -<p>". . . Query. What about Miss Varlins?. . ."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_13" href="#div1Ref_13">Chapter 13</a></h4> -<h5> -The Craft of Monsieur Judas</h5> -<br> - -<p>There was no doubt that Florry Marson was dangerously ill, for the -sudden shock she had sustained in hearing of the unexpected death of -Melstane had unsettled her brain. Weak, shallow, and frivolous, she -was not the woman to stand bravely against calamity, and this first -great sorrow of her life had rendered her completely prostrate. The -poor butterfly which had rejoiced in the sunshine of prosperity was -now lying on a bed of sickness, whence it seemed doubtful that she -would ever rise. Through the long hours she lay helpless on her back, -babbling incoherently of her past life, or else fought furiously with -Judith to leave her bed, and go on imaginary errands; while her -cousin, a patient and untiring nurse, never left her side. She loved -Florry as a mother loves a wayward child, and although she was -bitterly disappointed by the duplicity of which her darling had been -guilty with regard to Melstane, yet she could not find it in her heart -to be seriously angry with this poor, weak nature now broken down by a -dangerous illness.</p> - -<p>In truth, it was a very melancholy house, for while Judith sat in the -sick-room watching the patient, Francis Marson was pacing to and fro -in his study, wondering what would be the end of all this trouble. One -thing he saw clearly, that unless he could obtain a large sum of ready -money he would be a ruined man in a very short space of time. Relying -on the promises of Jackson Spolger, he had thought he would be able to -tide over the commercial depression now existing in Ironfields; but -now that Florry was ill the marriage could not take place, and his -future son-in-law absolutely refused to do anything to aid him. Unless -his daughter recovered and married Spolger, he could expect no help -from that quarter, and not knowing where else to turn for assistance, -ruin, swift and irretrievable, would be the end.</p> - -<p>To and fro he paced with bowed head, revolving in his weary brain a -thousand schemes, all of which he rejected as chimerical as soon as -they were formed. With that curious noting of trivial things habitual -to overtaxed and over-worried brains, he mechanically marked the -pattern of the carpet and planted each footstep directly in the centre -of each square, counting the number with weary precision as he blindly -groped for a way out of his difficulties.</p> - -<p>"Spolger won't do anything. Five! six! No! he's too selfish, -and unless the marriage takes place I can expect no help from -him—fourteen squares from that wall. All those bills are due in -three months, and unless I can meet them there is nothing left but -bankruptcy. I'll count back again. One! two! three! So the house of -Marson & Sons must go down after all, and Florry, poor child, how ill -she is! I'm afraid she will not recover. Ten! ten! Ah, if I only had -ten thousand, that would help me. Twenty, twenty-one! How my head -aches! Who's that? Come in, Judith!"</p> - -<p>It was indeed Judith who stood on the threshold of the room, looking -pale and ghost-like in her white dressing-gown, with her long black -hair loose over her shoulders. She held a candle in her hand, and the -yellow light flared on her strongly marked features, ivory white under -the shadow of her hair.</p> - -<p>Francis Marson stood by his writing-table in the circle of light which -welled from under the green shade of the lamp, but he made a step -forward as Judith entered slowly and closed the door after her with -great care.</p> - -<p>"Is Florry worse?" asked Marson, with a look of despair on his haggard -features.</p> - -<p>"No! just the same," replied Judith, placing the candle on the table -and sinking into a chair. "Dr. Japix says she will be like she is now -for some time—until the crisis comes."</p> - -<p>"And then?"</p> - -<p>Judith let her head fall on her breast.</p> - -<p>"I don't know," she said, in a monotonous voice; "it means either -madness or sanity."</p> - -<p>"Better she should die."</p> - -<p>"Yes, I think so," answered Judith, with terrible calmness. "Poor -Florry, she was so bright and happy a few days ago, and now her life -is spoilt; she will never be the same again."</p> - -<p>"And all through that cursed Melstane."</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - -<p>There was silence for a few moments, and Marson sank slowly into his -chair, shading his worn face with his thin left hand, while the other -mechanically busied itself with two pens lying on the table. Judith, -with her hands lying loosely clasped on her lap, stared straight in -front of her with a thoughtful expression, as if she was engaged in -solving some abstruse problem.</p> - -<p>Only the steady ticking of the clock, the subdued crackling of the -dying fire, and shadows everywhere! In the corners of the room, -overhead on the ceiling, where the bright glare of the study lamp made -an unsteady circle, on the faces of the man and woman—shadows -everywhere, and, darkest of all, the shadow intangible, unseen, the -shadow of horror, of guilt, of disgrace that hung over the whole -splendid mansion!</p> - -<p>"Are you going to see him to-night?"</p> - -<p>It was Judith who spoke with sharp interrogation, and Marson lifted -his head wearily as he said:</p> - -<p>"Guinaud?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I must see him. He wrote to me that he had to speak upon a matter of -importance, and I promised to grant him an interview."</p> - -<p>"What time did he say he would be here?"</p> - -<p>"Between seven and eight o'clock to-night."</p> - -<p>With a simultaneous impulse they both looked at the clock. It was -half-past seven.</p> - -<p>"He will be here shortly," said Judith, looking at Mr. Marson.</p> - -<p>"I presume so."</p> - -<p>"Don't see him."</p> - -<p>Marson raised his head quickly, and flashed a keen glance at her eager -face.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Judith?"</p> - -<p>"Don't see him."</p> - -<p>"I must."</p> - -<p>Judith drummed with her fingers on the table, an anxious look appeared -in her splendid eyes, and she frowned angrily. Marson saw all the -signs of a coming storm, and waited. He had not long to wait.</p> - -<p>"That man is a scoundrel," burst out Judith, in sombre fury; "he is -coming here to tell you a lot of lies."</p> - -<p>"How do you know?"</p> - -<p>"I'm certain of it. He was a great friend of Sebastian Melstane's—a -treacherous, cowardly friend, who played the traitor to his -friendship."</p> - -<p>"How so?"</p> - -<p>"Because he loves Florry."</p> - -<p>"Impossible!"</p> - -<p>"It's true, I tell you," said Judith, doggedly; "he knew Mr. Melstane -loved Florry, but that did not deter him from loving her himself. He -has shown by a thousand signs that he loves her, and he kept it from -no one but his dead friend. Oh, he's not called Judas for nothing."</p> - -<p>"I don't see what all this has to do with the interview."</p> - -<p>Judith sprang to her feet, and crossing over to the table laid her -hand lightly on his shoulder. He shrank from that light touch, but -otherwise gave no sign of emotion.</p> - -<p>"Do you know why he is coming here to-night?" she hissed into his ear. -"Do you know what he intends to ask you? No, I see you don't! He is -coming here to tell you something—something that is dangerous to you, -and must be kept secret. He is coming to ask his price—that price is -the hand of your daughter."</p> - -<p>Marson looked at her in surprise as she towered above him, and he was -about to speak, when a knock came to the door. Without waiting for an -invitation to enter, a servant appeared with a card on a salver. He -held out the salver to his master, but Judith picked up the card lying -thereon and read it.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Jules Guinaud! Show him in here, Marks!"</p> - -<p>The servant bowed and retired, while Marson looked suddenly at Miss -Varlins.</p> - -<p>"Are you going to wait?"</p> - -<p>"Not here," she said, pointing to a door masked by curtains at the end -of the room; "I am going into the next room."</p> - -<p>"To listen?"</p> - -<p>"No! I am going upstairs to put on my dress, and will then come down -and hear what Monsieur Guinaud has to say."</p> - -<p>"He wants the interview to be a private one."</p> - -<p>"Do you?"</p> - -<p>Marson did not answer, but sat nervously plucking at his chin.</p> - -<p>"You are dealing with a dangerous man," she said in a whisper, not -knowing how near Judas might be to the door; "he needs a woman to deal -with him. Hush! there is Guinaud! I'll go upstairs this way and be -back shortly. Not a word."</p> - -<p>She went rapidly towards the masked door, and had just time to let the -tapestry drop behind her, when Judas entered, preceded by the servant.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Guinaud!"</p> - -<p>The servant retired, and Judas in his dark dress, with a crafty look -on his bloodless face, stood looking at Mr. Marson.</p> - -<p>"Will you be seated, sir?" said the latter gentleman, indicating a -chair.</p> - -<p>"Wis pleasure, monsieur," said Judas, bowing. "Speak you de français, -monsieur?"</p> - -<p>"Oui."</p> - -<p>"Très bien," replied Guinaud, with a satisfied smile; "let us speak my -tongue, monsieur, if you please! I am not at home in your English!"</p> - -<p>He sat down with a self-satisfied smile, drew his gloves off his long, -lean hands, and having thrown open his overcoat, rubbed his hands -together slowly, as he looked at Marson with his most guileless -expression.</p> - -<p>"Eh! my faith, but it is cold in this England of yours," he said, -passing his hand over his smooth red hair. "I am a child of the South, -me, and find these skies of rain not pleasant, after my beautiful -Provence."</p> - -<p>"What do you want to see me about?" asked Marson, sharply, taking an -instinctive dislike to the sleek, treacherous manner of Judas. "I -cannot spare you much time, so please be quick."</p> - -<p>Judas shrugged his shoulders, smiled blandly, and came to the point by -slow degrees.</p> - -<p>"I am the friend of the late Sebastian Melstane, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"I have heard that!"</p> - -<p>"Alas! he is dead!"</p> - -<p>"I have heard that, also!"</p> - -<p>"Eh! you know much, monsieur. Do you also know that he was murdered?"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens! No!"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Guinaud lifted his eyes to heaven with a sad smile.</p> - -<p>"But yes, certainly, monsieur. He died from a pill of morphia placed -in his box of pills of tonic, which he had from the shop of Monsieur -Vosk."</p> - -<p>"Who put the pill in the box?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! monsieur, do you not know?"</p> - -<p>"Of course I don't."</p> - -<p>Judas narrowed his eyes down to their dangerous expression, and -shrugged his shoulders once more, but said nothing.</p> - -<p>"And what has Melstane's death to do with me?" asked Marson, coldly.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur, he loved your child."</p> - -<p>"I am aware of that. A piece of infernal impertinence."</p> - -<p>"Then you are glad of his death?"</p> - -<p>"I am neither glad nor sorry, Monsieur Guinaud. I don't know why you -have done me the honour to seek this interview. If you will state your -reason, I will be pleased."</p> - -<p>The Frenchman leaned back in his chair, placed the tips of his long -fingers together, and smiled sweetly.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur Mar-rson, my friend that loved your beautiful child is dead. -I am full of regrets for him, but for myself I have the pleasure."</p> - -<p>"And why?"</p> - -<p>"Can you not guess the secret of my heart? I love your angel."</p> - -<p>"You!"</p> - -<p>Marson had sprung to his feet and was now looking angrily at the -Frenchman, who, without moving his position, still smiled blandly.</p> - -<p>"Even I, Jules Guinaud."</p> - -<p>The other looked at him in a contemptuous fashion; then, without a -word, walked across to the fireplace and put out his hand to touch the -ivory knob of the electric bell.</p> - -<p>"One moment, monsieur," said Judas, raising his voice slightly; "what -do you intend to do?"</p> - -<p>"Have you turned out of my house."</p> - -<p>He pressed the knob, and remained standing by the fireplace in -disdainful silence; but Judas, laughing softly, leaned back in his -chair.</p> - -<p>"Eh, truly? I think not. You won't do that when you hear what I've got -to say."</p> - -<p>The servant appeared at the door.</p> - -<p>"When you see, monsieur, what I can show you."</p> - -<p>"Marks, show this gentleman out."</p> - -<p>Judas took no notice of the order, but walked across the room with the -feline grace of a tiger and whispered something in Marson's ear. The -old man started, turned deadly white, and with an effort spoke again -to the servant.</p> - -<p>"You can go at present, Marks. I will ring if I want you."</p> - -<p>The servant retired and Guinaud returned to his seat, leaving Marson -still standing by the fireplace. Now, however, he looked faint and -ill, clinging to the mantelpiece for support. At length with an effort -he pulled himself together, and staggered rather than walked to his -seat.</p> - -<p>"What are your proofs?" he asked Guinaud, in a harsh whisper.</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas, with the same stereotyped smile on his face, took some -papers out of his breast coat-pocket, and, still retaining his hold of -them, spread them out before Marson.</p> - -<p>A single look was sufficient.</p> - -<p>"My God!" cried Marson, with sudden terror; "I—I—my God!"</p> -<br> - -<h5 style="letter-spacing:1em">* * * * *</h5> -<br> -<p>Judith, anxious to know the reason of Guinaud's visit, had rapidly -changed her dress, and was about to go down again to the study when -Florry's nurse called her in to look at the invalid. The girl was in -one of those terrible paroxysms of excitement, common to delirium, -when sick people possess unnatural strength, and Judith had to aid the -nurse to hold her down. This took some time, and when at length Florry -was lying comparatively quiet, Judith found that she had lost more -than half an hour.</p> - -<p>At once she went downstairs again and entered the adjacent room, -intending to make her appearance by the curtained door. As she stood -with her hand on the lock, the door being slightly ajar, she heard -Guinaud's voice raised in triumph.</p> - -<p>"Of course, monsieur, you will now permit me to be a suitor for the -hand of Mees Mar-rson?"</p> - -<p>Hardly believing her ears, Judith listened intently for Marson's -reply, but when it came it was so low that she could not hear it, and -she only gathered its purport from the next observation of the -Frenchman.</p> - -<p>"You must! Remember, I know all."</p> - -<p>"I cannot! I cannot! Besides, my daughter is ill—seriously ill."</p> - -<p>"Ah, bah! she will get well, the dear angel."</p> - -<p>"But she is to marry Mr. Spolger."</p> - -<p>"Quite a mistake, monsieur. She is to marry me! Eh, what do you say?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Guinaud and Marson both turned round, to see Judith standing beside -them with a look of anger on her face.</p> - -<p>"I say, no," she reiterated.</p> - -<p>"Eh, mademoiselle, but you are not the father," said Judas, with a -sneer.</p> - -<p>"You marry Miss Marson," cried Judith, angrily; "you! How dare you, -sir, come to the house of an English gentleman and make such a -request? You—you—thief!"</p> - -<p>"Thief, mademoiselle!" said the Frenchman, smiling.</p> - -<p>"Yes! I know that you have stolen some letters from that packet -addressed to me."</p> - -<p>"Eh, but it is true, mademoiselle. I have just been showing them to -Monsieur Mar-rson, and he is so delighted, this dear monsieur, that he -says to me: 'Take now the charming angel, Jules; she is for you.'"</p> - -<p>"I don't believe it! I don't believe it!" cried Judith, turning -towards the old man. "Mr. Marson, you will never consent to give your -daughter to this low spy!"</p> - -<p>"Eh, mademoiselle, you are not polite."</p> - -<p>"Speak to this man, Mr. Marson; tell him you refuse to do his -bidding."</p> - -<p>The old man raised his hands helplessly and sighed.</p> - -<p>"I cannot, Judith; I cannot."</p> - -<p>"You will give Florry to this man for his wife!"</p> - -<p>"I must."</p> - -<p>"You see, mademoiselle—"</p> - -<p>"Be silent, monsieur," she said, haughtily; "I do not speak to you. -Francis Marson, your daughter was left to my charge by your dead wife, -and I say she shall not marry this man."</p> - -<p>"Judith! Judith! I have seen—I have seen the papers."</p> - -<p>"Ah!" said Judith, with a long-drawn breath, "you have seen the -papers."</p> - -<p>"But yes, certainly," observed Judas, with a sneer. "And having seen -them, monsieur is prepared to give me his child. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>Marson nodded his head mechanically, but Judith, standing beside him, -turned suddenly on the smiling Frenchman with such vehemence, that he -recoiled from her fury.</p> - -<p>"You have threatened an old man," she hissed, angrily. "You have -learned a secret by chance, and you use it for your own base ends. But -it shall not be; I say it shall not be."</p> - -<p>"And I say it shall be," said Judas, slipping off his smiling mask. -"Listen to me, mademoiselle. I come to you now with peace; let me go -without my wishes being gratified, and I return with war. Eh! I mock -myself of your anger. Bah! I care not for your wrath; not I! See you -here, Miss Var-rlins. In the one hand I hold, silence; in the other, -ruin and exposure. Choose which you will. The world does not know how -my friend Melstane came by his end. I speak, and all is told!"</p> - -<p>Judith had fallen on her knees, and was hiding her white face against -the chair on which sat Francis Marson; and he, worn, anguished, and -terror-stricken, was looking in horror on the gibing enemy of them -both.</p> - -<p>"You kneel now—you kneel to me," cried Judas, mockingly, "to me—the -spy, the thief! Eh, but I remember all. There is a guillotine in your -land; but yes, I know it is so. One word from me and them—oh, you -know it well, I see, you gentle English lady. I could speak on and -ruin all, but I am a man of honour. I wish to be kind, and I say to -this dear monsieur what will be my desire. Now I go for a time—for a -day. When I come back it is for you to say what you will. Good night, -my friends. Guinaud is no fool. He holds the cards and he wins the -game! chut!"</p> - -<p>He walked out of the room with a mocking laugh, leaving Judith -crouched in abject terror by the side of the old man, who sat as if -turned to stone.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_14" href="#div1Ref_14">Chapter 14</a></h4> -<h5>Who is Guilty?</h5> -<br> - -<p>Dr. Japix was a bachelor, and therefore, by all the laws of -domesticity, should have been badly served as far as regards home -comforts; but then Dr. Japix had a good housekeeper so was served -excellently well in every respect. For instance, his dinners were -famous for the quality of the food and wines, as Fanks and his friend -Axton found by practical experience when they dined with their -unwedded host. He gave them a capital meal, undeniable wine, and as -all three men were good conversationalists, they had a very delightful -dinner. Afterwards, they went to the Doctor's study, a particularly -comfortable room, and smoked wonderfully good cigars over first-rate -coffee.</p> - -<p>The study was a private snuggery especially affected by the Doctor, -who had in it all his books, a few comfortable chairs, an -enticing-looking writing-table, some good etchings by eminent artists, -and plenty of warm red draperies to keep out the cold winds so general -in Ironfields. On this night there was a blazing fire in the polished -grate, and around it sat Japix and his two guests, enjoying the -soothing weed and talking about the Jarlchester case. Luckily, Japix -was perfectly free on this special night, and unless some unexpected -call should be made on him, was permitted by those hard laws which -regulate the lives of medical men to enjoy his smoke and talk to his -friends as he pleased. All three had plenty to say, and as the night -wore on towards the small hours, they gradually began to talk of -Melstane's murder, a topic to which everything had been tending for a -considerable time. It is true that they had referred to it in a -desultory fashion, but it was not until ten o'clock that they settled -down to a steady analysis of the case.</p> - -<p>"Most extraordinary," said Japix, in his subdued roar; "reflects great -credit on you, Fanks, for the way in which you have found it out."</p> - -<p>"I've not got to the end of my journey yet," replied Octavius, grimly, -"so I won't holloa till I'm out of the wood."</p> - -<p>"You're out of the Jarlchester wood, at all events."</p> - -<p>"Yes, only to plunge into the deeper recesses of the Ironfields wood."</p> - -<p>"Well," said Axton, reflectively, "you've proved conclusively that I -did not commit the crime."</p> - -<p>"You!" shouted Japix, in amazement.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I!" replied Roger, serenely. "Just fancy, Doctor, you are -sitting with a suspected murderer."</p> - -<p>"Not now," remonstrated Fanks, good-humouredly; "if I did suspect you -for a moment, you soon cleared yourself in my eyes. But you must admit -things looked black against you."</p> - -<p>"So black," assented Axton, quickly, "that had the detective been any -other than yourself, I should now be in prison awaiting my trial on a -charge of attempted murder."</p> - -<p>"Possibly," answered Fanks, lighting a fresh cigar; "not only that but -even probably. However, you have proved your innocence, and Spolger -has proved his."</p> - -<p>"Did you suspect him also?" asked the Doctor, chuckling. "I thought as -much from your questions to-day, Monsieur Fouché."</p> - -<p>"Well, he had the fatal pill-box in his possession; he uses morphia -for his Soothers; he hated Melstane, so altogether—"</p> - -<p>"There was a very nice little case against him," finished Japix, with -a gigantic laugh. "Oh, I know your profession Monsieur Lecoq; I have -read Gaboriau's romances."</p> - -<p>"I'm afraid we're not so infallible as the great Lecoq."</p> - -<p>"Pooh! why not? I dare say he's modelled on Vidocq. At all events, -you've now got an enigma which would delight Monsieur Gaboriau."</p> - -<p>"Real life is more difficult than fiction."</p> - -<p>"There you are wrong. Fiction is a reflection of real life—a holding -of the mirror up to Nature. Eh—author?"</p> - -<p>"Shakespeare," said Octavius, promptly, "and quoted wrongly."</p> - -<p>"Never mind; the spirit if not the form is there."</p> - -<p>"We've strayed from the subject," observed Axton, smiling, "regarding -this case. Since Spolger and myself are innocent, who is guilty?"</p> - -<p>"Ask something easier."</p> - -<p>"Do you know, my good Vidocq," remarked Japix, contemplating his large -feet, "that I wonder you have not turned your attention to Monsieur -Judas."</p> - -<p>"I have done so," said Octavius, quietly; "but I can bring nothing -home to him. He's very clever."</p> - -<p>"A scoundrel's virtue."</p> - -<p>"Yes, and a scoundrel's safety."</p> - -<p>"Didn't you tell me the other day that you thought Judas held all the -threads of the case in his hand?" said Roger, turning to Fanks.</p> - -<p>"I fancy I said something like that," replied Octavius, slowly; "but, -if I mistake not, you had suspicions of Judas yourself."</p> - -<p>"Had," said Roger, emphatically; "no, have! I have suspicions of -Judas, and I'm pretty sure—"</p> - -<p>"That he committed the murder," finished the Doctor.</p> - -<p>"Oh, I'm not prepared to go that far," said Fanks, quickly; "but as -regards Monsieur Guinaud, I'll tell you one thing. It's the custom, I -understand, for the master to check the assistant with regard to the -number of pills in a box."</p> - -<p>"Yes; that is the usual custom."</p> - -<p>"Well, I understood from Judas that such was the case with Melstane's -tonic pills. Having my suspicions, however, I went and saw Wosk -myself."</p> - -<p>"And what did he say?"</p> - -<p>"That he counted the pills in the box and then handed it back to -Judas—open."</p> - -<p>"Oh," said Axton, suddenly, "then you think it was Judas put the two -extra pills in the box?"</p> - -<p>"He might have done so."</p> - -<p>"But what would be his motive in getting rid of Melstane?"</p> - -<p>"Ah, there's no difficulty in answering that," replied Fanks, quickly. -"It appears Judas loves Miss Marson to distraction; Melstane stood in -his way, so he might have got rid of him by the pill method."</p> - -<p>"Granted," said Japix, eagerly; "but even if he did remove Melstane by -that morphia method, he would be no nearer the object of his love than -before. A chemist's assistant is not a fitting match for the heiress -of Francis Marson."</p> - -<p>"True, true!"</p> - -<p>"Besides," said Axton, taking up the defence, "why should Judas take -the trouble to kill Melstane at Jarlchester when he could have done so -at Ironfields?"</p> - -<p>"Oh, that's merely a question of safety," replied Octavius, -thoughtfully. "If Melstane had died here, awkward questions might have -been asked, which would have been difficult for Guinaud to answer; but -at Jarlchester the man dies, and there is nothing to connect Judas or -any one else with the death. That pill idea is a devilish ingenious -one."</p> - -<p>"Quite worthy of a Frenchman!"</p> - -<p>"Pooh! the virtuous English can easily hold their own in that respect; -for every extraordinary case in Paris I can find you an equivalent in -London."</p> - -<p>"By the way," cried Japix, suddenly deserting the line of conversation -in favour of a new one, "I went to see Miss Marson to-day; she's very -ill, you know."</p> - -<p>"My fault," said Roger, regretfully, "blurting out the fact of -Melstane's death."</p> - -<p>"Well, go on," said Fanks, impatiently; "what were you going to say, -Japix?"</p> - -<p>"That I visited Miss Marson to-day."</p> - -<p>"You've said that. What else?"</p> - -<p>"And I saw her father, who told me a most extraordinary thing."</p> - -<p>"Wait a bit," said the detective, with great excitement. "I'll bet you -a fiver that I can tell you what he told you."</p> - -<p>"The deuce you can!" replied Japix, in astonishment. "Well, I'll take -the bet. Marson said?"</p> - -<p>"That Judas had written him asking him for an interview."</p> - -<p>"Right! How the—no, I won't swear. But how, by all that's sacred, did -you find that out?"</p> - -<p>"And Judas also said it was about some documents."</p> - -<p>"Right again! I believe you are a magician, Fanks."</p> - -<p>"Not at all—inductive reasoning."</p> - -<p>"I wish you'd stop talking riddles," broke in Roger, irritably, "and -tell us what the deuce you mean."</p> - -<p>"It won't be very pleasant—to your ears."</p> - -<p>"Go on. I know what you're going to say," said Roger, excitedly, "but -don't mind me. I'm going to know the truth about this business."</p> - -<p>Japix looked at his two guests with astonishment depicted on his -broad, good-humoured face, but judged it best to say nothing until -Octavius explained matters, which he did speedily.</p> - -<p>"My dear Japix," he said, quietly, "there was a packet of letters -which Roger obtained from Melstane at Jarlchester and forwarded to -Miss Varlins, addressed to her by her first name."</p> - -<p>"Miss Judith!"</p> - -<p>"Precisely! Well, that stupid old postmistress muddled up the name -with that of Judas, and sent the packet to him. We met Miss Varlins, -and went together to get the packet from Guinaud. I asked her to let -me see the packet. She refused at first, but ultimately consented on -condition that I let her look over the letters first. I agreed to -that, she did so, and I found nothing."</p> - -<p>"Well, well!" said Japix, quickly, "I don't see anything strange in -that."</p> - -<p>"Don't you? I do! If there had been nothing particular in that packet, -Miss Varlins would not have objected to my seeing it. So my belief is -that Judas abstracted the letters he did not want me to see, and has -gone to Marson to show them to him."</p> - -<p>"Well!"</p> - -<p>"Well!" repeated Fanks, angrily, "don't you see? Those letters, stolen -by Judas, bear indirectly on the death of Melstane."</p> - -<p>"If that is the case, why should Judas show them to Marson?"</p> - -<p>Fanks fidgeted uneasily in his chair, looked at the floor, the -ceiling, the Doctor, everywhere but at Roger.</p> - -<p>"I really can't tell," he said at length, very lamely.</p> - -<p>"Yes, you can," shouted Roger, rising quickly; "you suspect—"</p> - -<p>"I have said no name," replied Fanks, very pale, rising in his turn.</p> - -<p>"No, but I will!"</p> - -<p>"Roger!"</p> - -<p>"I will tell you, and I declare it's a lie—a lie!"</p> - -<p>"Good heavens!" cried Japix, rising, "what does this mean?"</p> - -<p>He looked at both men for an answer, and obtained it from Roger:</p> - -<p>"It means that my old schoolfellow suspects the woman I love of a -crime."</p> - -<p>"Judith Varlins!"</p> - -<p>"Yes; Judith Varlins!"</p> - -<p>Japix looked at Fanks to see if he would repeat the accusation, but -the detective said nothing.</p> - -<p>"My dear Axton, you're dreaming," he said, soothingly. "I'd as soon -think of suspecting myself."</p> - -<p>Roger seized the large hand of the Doctor and shook it heartily.</p> - -<p>"Thank Heaven there is some one believes her innocent," he said, with -a half sob.</p> - -<p>"Tut, tut!" answered the Doctor, quietly, "sit down, my dear boy, sit -down. There must be some explanation of this."</p> - -<p>"If Roger would not be so impetuous," said Fanks, who had resumed his -seat, "I would like to tell him something."</p> - -<p>Roger looked at his friend with a gleam of hope in his eye, and sat -down in sullen silence.</p> - -<p>"You yourself say I suspect Miss Varlins," explained Fanks, with faint -hesitation, "simply because I said Judas had taken certain documents -to Marson. How do you know that I may not suspect some one else?"</p> - -<p>"Whom?"</p> - -<p>"Miss Varlins," observed Fanks, leisurely, "may, for all we know, -be acting a very noble part, and may be trying to screen another -person—for instance, Mr. Francis Marson."</p> - -<p>"What?" shouted Japix and Roger in one breath.</p> - -<p>"I'm not certain—by no means certain; but I have my suspicions."</p> - -<p>"Of Marson?" said Japix, scornfully; "pooh! nonsense! There isn't a -more respected man in Ironfields."</p> - -<p>"It's generally your respected persons who fancy they can sin with -impunity, and not be found out on account of that very respectability. -May I ask you a few questions, Japix?"</p> - -<p>"By all means."</p> - -<p>"Why did Marson want his pretty daughter to marry that ugly wreck of a -Spolger?"</p> - -<p>Japix hesitated a moment before answering.</p> - -<p>"I know nothing for a fact," he said at length, with great reluctance, -"but common rumour—"</p> - -<p>"Common rumour by all means. There's no smoke without fire."</p> - -<p>"A detestable proverb," said Japix, frowning. "Well, rumour says that -Marson will smash if money is not put into his business, and that -Florry Marson was to be the price of Spolger finding for Marson & Son -the requisite money."</p> - -<p>"I think that's the most powerful reason for the crime we've had yet."</p> - -<p>Neither of his listeners answered this remark, as they seemed -instinctively to feel that the fatal net was closing round Marson -through the relentless logic of the detective.</p> - -<p>"In the case of Axton," resumed Fanks, coolly, "the motive for the -crime appeared to be love. In the case of Spolger, love. In the case -of Judas, love. All very well, but hardly a strong enough motive to -make a man put a rope round his neck. In this case of Marson, however, -what do we find? Bankruptcy, loss of position, loss of money, loss of -name, in fact, loss of everything that a man holds most dear. A strong -motive, I think."</p> - -<p>"I can't stand this," cried Roger, jumping up quickly; "confound it, -Fanks, you'd argue the man guilty without a chance of defence. You -tell us the motive for the crime, certainly; but how did Marson do it? -When did he have the pill-box? Where could he obtain the morphia?"</p> - -<p>"Judas knows."</p> - -<p>"Judas!"</p> - -<p>"Yes. I believe Judas is an accomplice of Marson, and between the two -of them they killed Melstane in that remarkably ingenious manner."</p> - -<p>"I can't believe it," said Japix, as his two visitors arose to take -their leave.</p> - -<p>"Probably not," replied Fanks, calmly; "but I'll give you plenty of -proof shortly."</p> - -<p>"Why, what do you intend to do?"</p> - -<p>"I'm going to see Monsieur Judas."</p> - -<p>"You'll find him a match for you," said the Doctor, grimly, as he -accompanied his guests to the door.</p> - -<p>"Then I'll see Marson."</p> - -<p>"Humph! two stools, you'll fall to the ground."</p> - -<p>"I'll take my chance of that," said Fanks, cheerfully, as he stepped -out into the darkness with Roger. "Good night, Japix. I'll be able to -give you the key to the Jarlchester Mystery next week."</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From a Detectives Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>". . . Just returned from an evening with Japix . . . We (R., J., and -myself) had a long conversation about the case . . . This conversation -has left me in a state of great perplexity . . . I told Japix I would -give him the key to the mystery next week, but I spoke more boldly -than I have reason to . . . It is true I am narrowing down the circle -. . . I suspect two people, with a possible third . . . Marson, Judith -Varlins, and Judas . . . It's a very humiliating fact to confess this -indecision even to myself . . . But, detectives are not infallible -save in novels . . . I am perplexed . . . I have suspected Axton -wrongfully . . . I have suspected Spolger wrongfully, and now -. . . Let me make a note of the motives of each of the three people I -suspect now . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Marson! He is on the verge of bankruptcy . . . only one person -can save him, viz. Jackson Spolger . . . He, however, declines to help -him unless he marries Florry Marson . . . She won't marry Spolger -because of her love for Melstane . . . A strong motive here for Marson -to get rid of Melstane . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Miss Varlins . . . Her motive for getting rid of Melstane, I -think, is a mixture of love and jealousy . . . Both strong motives, -with a woman . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Judas! He loves Miss Marson also, and with his loose morality -would have no hesitation in putting Melstane out of the way. He wants -Florry Marson, he wants her money . . . Melstane stands in the way of -his obtaining both . . . in such a case Judas is just the man—from my -reading of his character—to commit a crime . . . Again, his -employment as a chemist offers him peculiar advantages for obtaining -morphia . . . It would be difficult for either Marson or Miss Varlins -to obtain morphia in a large quantity, but Judas could easily get it -in the ordinary course of his business . . . I am going to see Judas, -and from a second conversation may perhaps learn something useful -. . . He is crafty . . . still he may betray himself . . . at all -events, it is worth while trying.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To see Judas to-morrow night."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_15" href="#div1Ref_15">Chapter 15</a></h4> -<h5>Monsieur Judas at Bay</h5> -<br> - -<p>Monsieur Jules Guinaud was not quite satisfied in his own mind with -regard to the result of his interview of the previous night. It was -true that by using the documents he had stolen from Melstane's packet -he had succeeded in obtaining Marson's consent to his marriage with -Florry, but it was also true that he had found an unexpected obstacle -to his plans in the person of Judith Varlins. He was cynical in his -estimate of the female sex, regarding them as beings quite inferior to -the male, but at the same time he was too clever a man to -underestimate the result of a quick-witted woman opposing herself to -his will. Florry was a mere cypher, whom he loved in a sensual fashion -for her beauty, and in a worldly fashion for her money, but Judith was -quite a different stamp of woman to this negative type of inane -loveliness. She had a masculine brain, she had a strong will, she had -a fearless nature, and Guinaud dreaded the upshot of any interference -on her part.</p> - -<p>A genius, this man—a genius in a wicked way, with wonderful -capabilities of arranging his plans, and brushing aside any obstacle -that might interfere with their fulfilment, In this case Judith -interfered, so Judas, taking a rapid survey of the situation, saw a -means by which he could silence her effectively, and determined to -do so without delay. He wished to marry Florry Marson; he wished to -enjoy the income, the position, and the benefits derived from being a -son-in-law of Marson, and was consequently determined to let nothing -stand in the way of the realisation of his hopes. Judas was not a -brave man, but he was wonderfully crafty, and the fox, as a rule, -gains his ends where the lion fails; so the Frenchman determined to go -up to the Hall on the night following his first interview, see Judith, -and let her know at once what to expect if she meddled with his -arrangements.</p> - -<p>This was all very nicely arranged, and if Monsieur Guinaud had been -undisturbed, he would no doubt have succeeded in his wicked little -plans; but Fate, not approving of this usurpation of her role as -arbitrator of human lives, interfered, and Octavius Fanks was the -instrument she used to defeat all the Frenchman's schemes.</p> - -<p>In playing with Fate, that goddess has a nasty habit of forcing her -opponent's hand before he desires to show it, and this is what she did -now, to the great discomfiture of Monsieur Judas.</p> - -<p>It was about eight o'clock on the night following that momentous -interview at the Hall, and all Mrs. Binter's boarders had left the -jail on the ticket of-leave system except Judas, who sat in the -drawing-room cell arranging everything in his crafty brain before -setting out on his errand to Miss Varlins. The head-jailer had several -times entered the room and intimated that he had better run out for a -breath of fresh air; but Judas, saying he would go later on, kept his -seat by the diminutive fire, and declined to obey Mrs. Binter, much to -that good lady's disgust.</p> - -<p>"Why, drat the man," she said, in her stony fashion, to one of the -under-warders, "what does he mean by wastin' coals an' ile? Why don't -he walk his dinner off by usin' his legs instead of robbin' me of my -profits by takin' it out of his thirty shillin's weekly?"</p> - -<p>The under-warder suggested respectfully that Monsieur Judas might be -expecting a friend that night, as on a previous occasion, to which the -jailer made prompt reply:</p> - -<p>"Oh, I dare say! That friend he had here was a furriner. I heard 'em -talking their French gabble. It's more like a turkey gobblin' than a -man talkin'. Why don't these furriners learn English? There's the -front-door bell! P'r'aps it's that friend again. I'll go myself."</p> - -<p>And go herself she did, to find Mr. Fanks waiting on the doorstep; and -thinking he was expected by Judas, seeing that gentleman had waited -in, took him in charge, and formally conducted him to the drawing-room -cell.</p> - -<p>"A gentleman for you, munseer," she said, glaring at her lodger, who -had arisen to his feet in some surprise, "an' please don't use too -many coals, sir. For coals is coals, however much you may think 'em -waste-paper."</p> - -<p>Having thus relieved her feelings, Mrs. Binter retired to the -basement, where she amused herself with badgering Mr. Binter, and -Fanks was left alone with the chemist's assistant.</p> - -<p>"You wish to see me, monsieur?" asked Judas, in French, narrowing his -eyes to their most catlike expression.</p> - -<p>"Yes," replied Fanks, sitting down. "I wish to ask you a few -questions."</p> - -<p>"I cannot give you long, Monsieur Fanks," said the Frenchman, -unwillingly, "I have an engagement for this night!"</p> - -<p>"Oh, indeed. With Mr. Marson, or Miss Varlins?" This was carrying the -war into the enemy's camp with a vengeance, and for a moment Judas was -so nonplussed, that he did not know what to say.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur is pleased to be amusing," he said, at length, with an ugly -smile. "Monsieur does me the honour to make my business his own."</p> - -<p>"I'm glad you see my intentions so clearly, Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>They were painfully polite to one another, these two men, but this -mutual politeness was of a dangerous kind foreboding a storm. Like two -skilful fencers, they watched one another warily, each ready to take -advantage of the first opportunity to break down the guard of the -other. It was difficult to say who would win, for they were equally -clever, equally watchful, equally merciless, and neither of them -underestimated the acuteness of his adversary. A duel of brains, both -men on guard, and Fanks made the first attack!</p> - -<p>"Are you aware, Monsieur Guinaud, that you stand in a very dangerous -position?"</p> - -<p>"My faith, no! Not at all."</p> - -<p>"Then it is as well you should know at once. I am a detective, as you -know, and am investigating this affair of your late friend. I suspect -some one of the murder."</p> - -<p>"Very well. Monsieur Axton?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>"The dear Spolgers?"</p> - -<p>"No."</p> - -<p>Judas shrugged his shoulders!</p> - -<p>"My faith! I know not, then, the man you suspect."</p> - -<p>"Yes, you do. I suspect Monsieur Jules Guinaud."</p> - -<p>The Frenchman was by no means startled, but laughed jeeringly.</p> - -<p>"Eh, monsieur! Que diable faites-vous dans cette galère?"</p> - -<p>"You need not jest. I am in earnest!"</p> - -<p>"Truly! Will monsieur speak plainly?"</p> - -<p>"Certainly! You say you were a friend of Melstane's. That is a lie. -You hated him because he was your successful rival with Miss Marson. -You wished him dead, so that you would be free to make your suit to -the young lady. The box of tonic pills left your hands for those of -Melstane."</p> - -<p>"Pardon! It went first into the hands of Monsieur Vosk."</p> - -<p>"Don't trouble to tell lies, Guinaud. I have asked Wosk, and he says -he counted the pills, and then gave you the box again—open."</p> - -<p>"It's a lie!"</p> - -<p>"Reserve your defence, if you please. When you got that box, you put -in those two morphia pills, and Melstane left Ironfields carrying his -death in his pocket."</p> - -<p>"You have the invention, monsieur, I see."</p> - -<p>"In this scheme for Melstane's death you were prompted by your -accomplice, Francis Marson."</p> - -<p>"Eh! It's an excellent play, without doubt."</p> - -<p>"You stole some compromising letters of Marson's from that packet of -Melstane's, and took them up to him last night."</p> - -<p>"You are wisdom itself, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Those letters form your hold over Marson, and you offered to destroy -them on condition that he let you marry Miss Marson."</p> - -<p>"A miracle of logic! Eh, I believe well."</p> - -<p>"It is my firm conviction," said Fanks, losing his temper at the -gibing tones of the Frenchman, "that what I have stated is the truth, -and that you and Marson are responsible for the death of Melstane in -the way I have described."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur is not afraid of the law of libel, evidently."</p> - -<p>"No; there are no witnesses present."</p> - -<p>"Ah, you scheme well?"</p> - -<p>"Pshaw! What answer can you make to my statement?"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas smiled blandly, shrugged his shoulders, and spread out -his lean hands with a deprecating gesture.</p> - -<p>"Me! Alas! I can say nothing but that you have as strong a case -against me as you had against your dear friend, Monsieur Roger."</p> - -<p>Fanks reddened angrily. He was aware that he had blundered two or -three times during the case, but still it was not pleasant to be -taunted thus by a smiling adversary who indulged in fine irony.</p> - -<p>"You led me to believe Axton was guilty," he said, meekly.</p> - -<p>"I? Eh, it is a mistake. I but told what I knew. It is not my fault if -the affair reflects upon Monsieur Roger."</p> - -<p>"Do you know I can arrest you on suspicion of murder?"</p> - -<p>"Truly! Then do so. I am ready."</p> - -<p>Fanks bit his nails in impotent wrath, feeling himself quite helpless -to deal with this man. He could not arrest him because he had not -sufficient evidence to warrant him doing so. He could not force him to -speak, as he had no means of commanding him. Altogether he was -completely at the mercy of Judas in every way. Judas saw this and -chuckled.</p> - -<p>"Can I tell monsieur anything else?"</p> - -<p>"Confound you, sir, you've told me nothing."</p> - -<p>"Eh, it is because I do know nothing."</p> - -<p>"That is a lie, Guinaud. I believe you know all about this case."</p> - -<p>"Monsieur does me too much honour."</p> - -<p>It was very provoking, certainly, and Fanks, seeing the uselessness of -prolonging the discussion, was about to retire when a sudden thought -entered his head.</p> - -<p>"At all events Monsieur Guinaud," he said, deliberately, "cool as you -are now, you may not be quite so composed before a judge."</p> - -<p>"Ah! you will arrest me for the murder. Well, I wait, monsieur, for -your pleasure. Bah! I am no child to be frightened by big drums."</p> - -<p>"I won't arrest you for the murder, but I will for stealing those -letters."</p> - -<p>Judas winced at this. He was not very well acquainted with English -law, and although he knew Fanks would not dare to arrest him on a -charge of murder on the present evidence, yet he was by no means -certain regarding the business of the letters. He thought a moment.</p> - -<p>"You will arrest me for stealing what you do not know that I did -steal?"</p> - -<p>"What I know or what I don't know doesn't matter. I'll arrest you as -soon as I can obtain a warrant. Once you are in the clutches of the -English law, and you won't get out of them till you tell all you know -about this case."</p> - -<p>Octavius was simply playing a game of bluff with Judas trusting to the -Frenchman's ignorance of English law to win him the game. He was right -in this case, as Guinaud did not know how far the arm of Justice could -stretch in England, and thought he might be arrested for the theft of -the letters. If so, it would be fatal to his schemes, as he desired to -avoid publicity in every way, and arrest at present meant the tumbling -down of his carefully built house of cards. Having thus taken a rapid -survey of the position, he made up his mind to save himself by the -sacrifice of some one else, and he fixed upon Judith, who had tried to -thwart him, as the victim. With this idea he politely desired Fanks to -be seated again—a request which that gentleman obeyed with a feeling -of great relief, as he had played his last card in a desperate game, -and was grateful to find that it had turned up trumps.</p> - -<p>The detective therefore seated himself once more, but Judas, -foreseeing a fine opportunity of exercising his oratorical talents, -remained standing, and waved his hand in a loftily theatrical manner.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur," he said, with apparent grief, "you see before you a man of -honour. It is all that I have, this honour of my forefathers, and I -would not sell it, no! not for the wealth of the Monte Cristo of our -dear Dumas. But in this case it is one of justice. If I am silent I am -suspected of a terrible crime; my name is in the dust. Can I let it -lie there? But no, it is impossible; so to myself I say, 'You must -forget your honour for once, and speak the name of that woman.'"</p> - -<p>"Woman!"</p> - -<p>"Eh! monsieur, you are astonished. It is not strange! Listen to me! I -will tell you what I know of my dear friend's death."</p> - -<p>"But you're not going to tell me a woman killed him?" Guinaud placed -his left hand inside his waistcoat, and waved the right, solemnly.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur! There are terrible things in this world. The heart of man -is not good, but the heart of woman—ah! who can explore its depths? -Not even our Balzac, of all the most profound—"</p> - -<p>"Hang your preaching, get on with your story."</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas smiled, dropped his pompous manner, and told his little -tale in a highly dramatic fashion.</p> - -<p>"I speak then, monsieur, straight. It's a drama of the Porte St. -Martin. In this way. On the night before my dear friend goes to -Jarlcesterre he is in this room; with him, myself. We talk, we laugh, -we weep adieu! At once there is a tap at the window there—the window -that opens like a door on to the beautiful grass. We turn; I see the -dress, the hood, the figure of a woman, but not the face. My friend -Sebastian to me speaks: 'Go, my good friend, I have to speak with a -charming angel. You are a man of honour. Disturb not our rendezvous.' -What would you? I go, and my friend Sebastian locks the door. At this -I am angry. He trusts me not, so I say: 'Very well, you think I am a -spy. So be it, I will listen.' Conceive to yourself, monsieur, how I -was judged. In anger, I went outside to that window. It is open but a -little, and I hear all—all! Sebastian to the woman speaks. They talk, -and talk, and fight, and rage! Oh! it was terrible. She asks of him -something, and he says, 'Yes, it is for you.' Then he goes out of this -room by that door. She is left alone, this charming woman. She goes to -the table, here; on it there is a box of pills—my friend's box of -pills. She opens the box. My eye beholds her drop into it something, I -know not what. Again she closes the box, and waits. I see my dear -Melstane return. They talk, they kiss, they part. From the window I -fly, and when I come into this room by the door, the woman is gone, -Sebastian is gone, and the window is closed but not locked. I go to -it, I open it, and on the grass there I see a handkerchief; it is now -mine, and on it is the name of the woman that came—the woman that put -the pills in the box—the woman that killed my friend."</p> - -<p>"And the name—the name!" cried Fanks, in a state of great excitement, -springing to his feet; "tell me her name."</p> - -<p>Rapid as thought Guinaud produced a white handkerchief from his -breast-pocket and flung it to Fanks.</p> - -<p>The detective seized it, and looked at the name in the corner.</p> - -<p>"Judith!"</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From a Detective's Note-Book</h4> - -<p>". . . I have seen Judas, and he made a strange confession . . . He -actually saw the person who committed the crime put the pills into the -box . . . The name was hardly a surprise to me . . . I thought Miss -Varlins was guilty, but hardly thought my suspicions would be -confirmed so soon . . . Poor Roger, it will be a terrible blow to him -to learn that the woman he loves is guilty of such a terrible crime -. . . I don't believe she ever loved Roger . . . all her passions -were centred on Melstane . . . He must have been a wonderfully -fascinating scamp . . . I don't know why I should pity Judith Varlins -. . . She has treated Roger shamefully . . . She has treated Florry -Marson shamefully . . . for she pretended to love the one and killed -the lover of the other . . . Her handkerchief has betrayed her -. . . She will be a very clever woman if she can get out of that -. . . The evidence of the handkerchief . . . the evidence of Judas -are both dead against her . . .</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem.</i>—To write to Marson asking for an interview.</p> - -<p>". . . I will take up Judas and Roger with me, so as to convict her of -the crime . . . It will be a terrible ordeal for the poor boy, but -anything is better than that he should marry a murderess . . . This -was the reason she refused to let me see the letters . . . some of her -own were there, betraying her guilty passion . . . She has been -playing a double game all through, but now she is brought to book at -last . . . She must be a woman of iron nerve . . . Her adopted sister -is lying dangerously ill from the consequences of Judith's crime -. . . from the sudden intelligence that the man she loved is dead, and -yet Judith can still wear her mask and play the part of a sick-nurse -. . . She must be a perfect fiend . . . Lucrezia Borgia <i>fin de -siècle</i> . . . I expect to have a terrible scene to-morrow night -. . . Poor Roger! . . .</p> - -<p>"Judas is an incarnate devil . . . I wish he was the guilty one -instead of Judith Varlins . . . Nothing would give me greater pleasure -than to put the irons on him."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_16" href="#div1Ref_16">Chapter 16</a></h4> -<h5>The Man Who Loved Her</h5> -<br> - -<p>Have you ever been in the tropics? If so, you must know how cruel the -sun can be to the unhappy Europeans grilling under its ardent rays. It -does not invigorate, nor tan the skin overmuch, nor make one think -life is a good thing; but it enervates the system, it relaxes the -muscles, it dulls the brain, until the body is nothing but a worn-out -shell, that moves, and rests, and lies down, and stands up in a -mechanical fashion, like an automaton. It was like this that Judith -felt after the terrible interview with Guinaud, and she went the round -of her daily duties in a dull, listless manner, that showed how -greatly her vital force had been exhausted by the ordeal she had -undergone. With constant attendance on the invalid, and anxious -thoughts about the position of affairs with regard to the Frenchman, -she was worn out mentally and physically.</p> - -<p>At present it was difficult to come to any decision relative to -Florry's illness as the crisis had not yet come, and youth, health, -and love of life were all fighting desperately against the shadow of -death. The shock sustained by Florry on hearing of the untimely end of -her lover had quite unsettled her brain, and the balance was trembling -between health and sickness, between sanity and insanity, between life -and death. She needed constant watching, for at times, in the most -unexpected manner, she would spring from her bed and try to leave the -room, bound on some fantastic journey created by the excited state of -her brain. At other times she lay languid and exhausted, with dim, -unseeing eyes, raving madly about her lover and the unforeseen -calamity of his death. Afraid to trust this fragile life to the care -of a hired nurse, Judith herself sat by the bedside, and ministered to -the wants of the sick girl, holding the cool drink to the fevered -lips, bathing the feverish brow, and arranging with loving hand the -disordered bed-clothes.</p> - -<p>It was bad enough in the day to sit in the twilight of the sick-room -listening to the aimless chatter that came from the white lips, but it -was worse at night. The sombre shadows that hung over all, the faint -glimmer of the shaded lamp, the uncanny stillness of the house, and -nothing awake but the sick girl with her pathetic pleadings, her -causeless laughter, and the incessant stream of disconnected -wanderings. No wonder Judith was quite worn out with constant -watching; much, however, as she needed rest, she never surrendered her -weary post by the bed, but sat, watchful and tender, during the long -hours, only calling in the nurse when the paroxysms seized the -invalid. All through the endless night succeeding the interview she -had sat like a stone image in the sick-room, going over in her own -tortured mind all that Guinaud had said. The morning broke dull and -gray, and the nurse insisted upon her resting for a time. Rest! there -was no such luxury for her; for even when lying down, her weary brain -went mechanically over the old ground, imagining a thousand terrors, -and agonising itself with a thousand pangs.</p> - -<p>At last she slept for a time, but it was no refreshing slumber such as -would bring relief. No! nothing but dreams, strange, horrible dreams, -in all of which Judas, cruel and merciless, was the central figure; so -in despair of gaining quiet in any way, she arose in the afternoon, -and returned to her post by the side of Florry.</p> - -<p>At four o'clock a card was brought to her bearing the name of Roger -Axton, and a few lines scribbled thereon asking her to see him at -once. With a start of terror, she wondered whether Judas had been to -Axton, and revealed anything; but remembering that silence was as -necessary to Judas as to herself, she dismissed this fear as idle, and -having called in the nurse, descended to the drawing-room.</p> - -<p>Roger was there, pacing restlessly to and fro like a caged lion, but -when she entered he stopped at once, and looked at her fixedly as she -came towards him in her sweeping black dress. Worn and haggard both of -them, anxious and apprehensive both of them, they looked like two -criminals meeting for the first time after the commission of a secret -crime.</p> - -<p>On seeing Roger's altered face, Judith also paused and gazed at him -with a terrified look in her dilated eyes. They stood silently looking -at one another for a single moment, but in that moment the agony of a -lifetime was concentrated.</p> - -<p>At last Roger spoke in a low, smothered tone, as if the words issued -from his white lips against his will.</p> - -<p>"No! no! I cannot believe it."</p> - -<p>This speech broke the strange spell that held Judith motionless, and -stealing forward she touched him lightly on the shoulder as he sank -into a chair, covering his wild face with his hands.</p> - -<p>"Roger!"</p> - -<p>No answer. Only the short quick breath of the man and the soft rustle -of the woman's dress.</p> - -<p>"Roger, what is the matter?"</p> - -<p>He looked up suddenly, hollow-eyed and shrinking, with a wild, -questioning look on his worn face.</p> - -<p>"I—I—have been told something."</p> - -<p>"By—by that Frenchman?"</p> - -<p>"Yes!"</p> - -<p>"My God!" she muttered to herself, falling nerveless into a chair, -"what has he told him?"</p> - -<p>"He has told me all!"</p> - -<p>"All?"</p> - -<p>"He has told not only me but Fanks!"</p> - -<p>"The detective?"</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>She hid her face in her hands with a startled cry, at which he sprang -quickly from his chair and flung himself on his knees beside her.</p> - -<p>"Oh, my love—my love!" he cried, entreatingly, "you are innocent; you -are innocent. I know you are!"</p> - -<p>"I innocent?"</p> - -<p>She was looking down at him with an expression of amazement on her -face, the beauty of which was marred by tears, by weariness, and by -anxious thought.</p> - -<p>"Yes! I'll swear you did not kill him!"</p> - -<p>"Kill whom?"</p> - -<p>"Sebastian Melstane!"</p> - -<p>"I kill Sebastian Melstane?" she cried, rising quickly, and drawing -herself up to her full height. "Who dares to accuse me of such a -thing?"</p> - -<p>"Judas!"</p> - -<p>"That wretch?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; but you are innocent; I know you are innocent."</p> - -<p>"Why?"</p> - -<p>"Because I love you!"</p> - -<p>Judith looked down at the man kneeling at her feet with a look of -infinite gratitude in her eyes, and passed her hand caressingly over -his dishevelled hair.</p> - -<p>"Poor boy, how true you are! You are willing to believe in my -innocence without my denial."</p> - -<p>"I am!"</p> - -<p>She sat down, again, caught his head between her two hands and kissed -him softly on the forehead. As she did so, he felt a hot tear fall on -his cheek, and when he looked at her she was crying.</p> - -<p>"Judith!" he cried, with sudden terror, "you are weeping."</p> - -<p>"Yes. May God always send mankind such true hearts as yours!"</p> - -<p>"I would be unworthy of your love if I did not believe you before all -the lying scoundrels in the world."</p> - -<p>"Alas, Don Quixote!"</p> - -<p>"But you can explain everything, Judith. I feel certain you can."</p> - -<p>"I can explain when I hear your story. At present I know nothing -beyond the fact that Monsieur Guinaud has accused me of a vile crime. -What does he say?"</p> - -<p>Roger, still kneeling by her side, told the story as related to him by -Fanks, and at the conclusion eagerly waited for her denial.</p> - -<p>She said nothing, but sat in sombre silence, with her eyes fixed -beyond his head in a vague, unseeing manner.</p> - -<p>"Judith!" he cried, desperately, "do you not hear what I say? This -scoundrel says that you visited Melstane at night and put those two -pills into the box with the intention of poisoning him."</p> - -<p>Still she said nothing, and Roger felt a feeling of horror arise in -his breast as he watched her face, so cold, so frozen, so impassive in -its fixed calm.</p> - -<p>"He has your handkerchief to prove that you were there. Judith, -speak!"</p> - -<p>All at once the still figure became endowed with life, and with a -choking cry she tore herself from his encircling arms, and sprang -across the room.</p> - -<p>"Judith!"</p> - -<p>In a frenzy of dread he leaped up from his kneeling position, and went -rapidly towards her with outstretched hands.</p> - -<p>"Stop!" she cried, wildly, shrinking against the wall, "stop!"</p> - -<p>"Speak, speak! You must speak and deny this story."</p> - -<p>"I cannot."</p> - -<p>"Judith."</p> - -<p>"I cannot!"</p> - -<p>"My God!" he said, in a hoarse whisper, "is it true?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot answer you."</p> - -<p>Roger felt the room spin round him, and, reeling back, caught at a -chair for support, while he gazed with horror-filled eyes at the woman -he loved, standing there so rigid and speechless.</p> - -<p>"Judith, you do not mean what you say," he cried entreatingly, "you -cannot understand. Judas says you murdered Melstane. He can prove it, -he says, by the handkerchief. He has told Fanks, who is a detective. -You are in danger. I cannot save you. Great Heaven! if you have any -pity for me—if you have any pity for yourself, speak and give the lie -to this foul accusation."</p> - -<p>"I cannot, I tell you, Roger, I cannot!"</p> - -<p>"You are innocent!"</p> - -<p>"I cannot say."</p> - -<p>"Are you guilty?"</p> - -<p>"I cannot say."</p> - -<p>Axton passed his hand over his brow in a bewildered fashion, hardly -knowing if he were asleep or awake, then, with a sudden resolution of -despair, flung himself on his knees at her feet.</p> - -<p>"Judith! Judith! you must speak, you must. See me kneeling at your -feet. I love you, I love you! I do not believe this vile story. In my -eyes you are innocent. But the world—think of the world. It will deem -you guilty if you cannot defend yourself. Judas has you in his power. -He is a merciless wretch. He hates you. He will drag you down to -infamy and disgrace, unless you can clear yourself of this crime. -Speak for your own sake—for mine. Do not let this devil triumph over -you, for Heaven's sake. Deny his foul lies, and let him be punished as -he deserves. Speak, for the love of God, speak!"</p> - -<p>Judith said nothing, but the quick panting of her breath, the nervous -tremor agitating her frame, and the rapid opening and shutting of her -hands showed how she was moved.</p> - -<p>"She says nothing," said Axton to himself, as he arose slowly to his -feet, "she is silent. What does it mean?"</p> - -<p>He made one last effort to induce her to deny the accusation of Judas.</p> - -<p>"You will not speak!" he said, in tones of acute anguish. "I have -knelt, I have prayed; you are silent. I can do nothing. You are -innocent, I'll swear; but I cannot prove it. No one can prove it but -yourself, and you say nothing. Judith, listen! You are in deadly -peril. Fanks is coming up to-night with Judas, and they will accuse -you of this crime!"</p> - -<p>"To-night?"</p> - -<p>"Yes; they have written to Mr. Marson. They will produce the -handkerchief. They will tell the story. You refuse to answer me; you -must answer them. Fanks told me of this to-day, and I came up at once -to warn you."</p> - -<p>"It is useless! I can say nothing."</p> - -<p>"You must say something. It is a question of life and death. The -affair is in the hands of the law. Nothing can save you but your own -denial. You must prove the falseness of this horrible story. It means -disgrace. It means prison! It means death!"</p> - -<p>She looked up suddenly as he spoke those last words, and crossing over -to him, laid her hand on his shoulder, speaking wildly, and with -uncontrollable agitation.</p> - -<p>"I know what it means. You need not tell me that. I know it means the -smirching of my fair fame as a woman, I know that it condemns me to an -ignominious death; but I can say nothing. Roger, on my soul, I can say -nothing. I cannot say I am innocent; I dare not say I am guilty. I -must be silent. I must be dumb. Let them say what they like; let them -do what they like; my honour and my life rest in the hands of God, and -He alone can save me."</p> - -<p>"But you are innocent!"</p> - -<p>She burst into tears.</p> - -<p>"Oh, why do you torture me like this? I tell you I can say nothing; -not even to you. My lips are sealed. Let them come up to-night; let -them accuse me; let them drag me to prison. I can say nothing. For -days, for nights I have dreaded this, now it has come at last. You -believe me innocent, my true-hearted lover, but the world will believe -me guilty. Let them do so. God knows my sufferings. God knows my -anguish, and in His hands I leave myself for good or ill."</p> - -<p>He heard her with bowed head, and at the end of her speech he felt a -soft kiss on his hair. When he looked up the room was empty.</p> - -<p>"Judith!"</p> - -<p>There was no reply, and the only sound he heard was the distant -slamming of a door that seemed to his agonised imagination to separate -him from the woman he loved—for ever.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_17" href="#div1Ref_17">Chapter 17</a></h4> -<h5>The Guessing of the Riddle</h5> -<br> - -<p>Francis Marson was considerably perplexed at receiving a note from -Fanks, asking for an interview. He guessed at once that Judas had -broken faith and unbosomed himself to the detective, but what puzzled -him was the reason the Frenchman had for such betrayal. In order to -secure the success of his schemes, it was necessary that he should -keep silent, yet he had evidently voluntarily revealed his secret -knowledge, and thus rendered it useless to himself and his designs. -The only way in which Marson could account for the detective's request -was that he must have learned the secret of Judas, otherwise there -would be no reason why he should seek an interview.</p> - -<p>Filled with this idea, Marson summoned up all his courage, and -prepared to meet the coming storm with as brave a front as possible. -He wrote to Fanks, and told him he would be prepared to see him at -eight o'clock that night; then he shut himself up in his study for the -rest of the day. Plunged in gloomy reflections, he saw no one, not -even Judith; but as the hour approached when he expected his visitor -to arrive he was unable to bear his trial in solitude any longer, so, -sending for Judith, he told her about the interview. To his surprise, -she received the communication with great equanimity, and being in -ignorance of her forewarning by Roger, he could not but admire the -undaunted spirit with which she was prepared to face the terrible -trouble coming to them both.</p> - -<p>On her side, Judith saw plainly that Marson was almost distracted by -nervous terror and dread of the impending evil, so she did not think -it wise to reveal to him the dangerous position in which she was -placed. He would learn it in due time; but, meanwhile, she preserved a -gloomy silence, and told her adopted father that she would be by his -side during the ordeal, in order to support him to the best of her -ability. Poor soul, she knew how futile that support would be, but -with stern self-repression kept her forebodings locked in her own -heart, and Francis Marson felt to a great extent comforted in knowing -that he had at least one friend to stand by him in the hour of peril.</p> - -<p>It was nearly eight o'clock when Judith entered the study, and found -Marson seated at his writing-table, with his gray head buried in his -arms. A spasm of agony distorted the calm of her face as she saw the -abject terror of the old man; however, repressing all signs of -emotion, she moved slowly across the room, and touched him tenderly on -the shoulder. He looked up with a startled cry, but was somewhat -reassured by the peacefulness of her expression. No marble statue in -its eternal calm looked so void of passion and human fear as this -tall, pale woman who masked the anguish of her aching heart under an -impassive demeanour. Every emotion, every pang, every terror was -expressed on the withered countenance of the old man; but she was -cold, expressionless, still, as if all human feeling had been frozen -in her soul.</p> - -<p>Their eyes met for a moment, and from the dim eyes of the man, from -the splendid eyes of the woman, there leapt forth a sudden look of -mutual dread, of mutual anguish, and horrible suspense. That look -spoke all, and they had no need of words to explain their feelings, so -Judith sat down near the fire, and Marson resumed his chair at the -desk in ominous silence.</p> - -<p>At last Marson spoke, low and timidly, as if he feared his words would -be trumpeted forth to the four quarters of the world.</p> - -<p>"Is Florry better?"</p> - -<p>"No, I think she is worse to-night. Very excitable and restless."</p> - -<p>"Oh, Judith! Was it wise of you to leave her?"</p> - -<p>"She is in good hands. Dr. Japix is with her."</p> - -<p>"Japix!" repeated the old man, starting. "I'm sorry about that. On -this night of all nights I wish no one in the house!"</p> - -<p>"It doesn't matter," replied Judith, feigning an indifference she was -far from feeling; "what we know to-night all the world will know -to-morrow."</p> - -<p>"Good heavens, I hope not!"</p> - -<p>"We can expect nothing else from such a man as Judas."</p> - -<p>"You mean Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"I mean Judas! The name suits such a traitor."</p> - -<p>"But why should he act as he is doing?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know."</p> - -<p>"It is against his own interests."</p> - -<p>"Heaven only knows what he considers to be his interests," said -Judith, bitterly, "but anything is better than that he should marry -Florry!"</p> - -<p>"Do you think he would consent to take money instead?"</p> - -<p>"I think it's too late to offer any terms. Remember, to-night we deal -with the law."</p> - -<p>"But Fanks is a friend of Roger Axton."</p> - -<p>Judith shuddered, and covered her face with her hands.</p> - -<p>"Yes, I know he is," she said, in a low voice; "but Roger can do -nothing to help us."</p> - -<p>"Are you sure?"</p> - -<p>"Quite sure. He told me so this afternoon."</p> - -<p>"You saw him?"</p> - -<p>"I did!"</p> - -<p>Marson was about to speak, but the sombre expression of her face -forbade him to ask further questions, and he remained silent.</p> - -<p>The minutes seemed to fly by on wings of lightning to this unhappy man -and woman, who waited with shuddering dread for the approach of that -horror from which they could not escape.</p> - -<p>A knock at the door, and then Marks flung it wide open, announcing -three visitors.</p> - -<p>"Mr. Fanks, Mr. Axton, Monsieur Guinaud."</p> - -<p>"Roger," said Judith to herself, with a sudden pang at her heart, as -the servant retired. "Oh, the humiliation!"</p> - -<p>Marson greeted his three visitors with a grave bow, and they all sat -down in silence. There was a sullen look on the face of Judas, for he -felt that he had been undiplomatic in his dealings with the detective, -and that all his well-laid schemes would come to naught now that his -secret was made known.</p> - -<p>On the other hand, Fanks appeared serenely confident that things were -going as he wished them, but an uneasy expression on his face as he -glanced furtively at Judith, showed that he was by no means pleased -with the unexpected discovery he had made. Roger said nothing, but sat -looking at the carpet with downcast eyes, the very picture of misery -and despair.</p> - -<p>"You wish to see me, I understand from your letter, sir," said Marson -to the detective, in a dull, hopeless voice.</p> - -<p>"Yes; with regard to the death of Sebastian Melstane."</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about his death."</p> - -<p>"Nothing?" repeated Fanks, with great emphasis.</p> - -<p>Mr. Marson flushed all over his worn face, and he glanced rapidly at -Judith, then repeated his former denial with great deliberation.</p> - -<p>"I know nothing about his death."</p> - -<p>"Do you know anything, Miss Varlins?"</p> - -<p>"I? how should I know?"</p> - -<p>"I'm sorry to speak rudely to a lady," said Fanks, suavely, "but this -is equivocation."</p> - -<p>She looked despairingly at him with the expression of a trapped animal -in her eyes, a mute appeal for mercy, but the detective steeled his -heart against her, and spoke plainly:</p> - -<p>"Do you remember a visit you paid the late Mr. Melstane at Binter's -boarding-house during the early part of the month of November?"</p> - -<p>"No, I do not."</p> - -<p>"Do you recognise this handkerchief?" said Octavius, holding it out to -her.</p> - -<p>"No. It is a lady's white handkerchief. How should I recognise it?"</p> - -<p>"By the name in the corner."</p> - -<p>She glanced rapidly at the embroidery, and seeing the fatal name -"Judith," let her head fall on her breast with a gesture of despair.</p> - -<p>"Do you recognise the handkerchief now?" asked Fanks, with merciless -deliberation.</p> - -<p>"Yes! It is mine!"</p> - -<p>"Do you know where it was found?"</p> - -<p>"No!"</p> - -<p>"It was found in the sitting-room of Mr. Melstane by this gentleman," -said Octavius, pointing to Judas.</p> - -<p>She raised her eyes, and her glance followed the direction of his -outstretched finger. Hate, contempt, dread, and defiance were all -expressed in that rapid look, and Judas shrank back with a feeble -smile from the scathing scorn in her eyes.</p> - -<p>"This being the case, Miss Varlins," resumed Fanks, coolly, "it is -useless for you to deny that you were at Binter's boarding-house on -the night in question."</p> - -<p>"I do deny it!" she said, resolutely. "I was not at Binter's any night -during November; I never saw Mr. Melstane during November. I know -nothing about his death!"</p> - -<p>Octavius laid the handkerchief on the table with a resolute -expression.</p> - -<p>"I see I must refresh your memory, Miss Varlins," he said, coolly. -"Sebastian Melstane died at Jarlchester on the 13th of November by -taking, in all innocence, a morphia pill, which was placed among -certain tonic pills he was in the habit of taking. When I find the -person who placed the two morphia pills in the box I find the murderer -of Sebastian Melstane. Monsieur Guinaud will now resume the story."</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas bowed his head gracefully, and spoke slowly in his vile -English.</p> - -<p>"At the nights before my frien' Melstane go to Jarlcesterre une dame -find him chez lui. I at de vinda stay and overt mes yeux. Mon ami, ce -cher Sebastian does go from ze appartement an' zen behold moi ze dame -plaze dans un boite à pilules quelque chose, je ne sais quoi."</p> - -<p>"Speak English, if you please," said Fanks, sharply.</p> - -<p>"Eh, c'est difficile, mais oui. She puts in ze boxes somezing, I knows -no wat; zen mon cher ami come again an' ze leave par la fenêtre. I do -look after zem, an' see ze mouchoir now wis Monsieur Fanks. Dat is all -I speak. La voila."</p> - -<p>Roger, who had hitherto kept silent during the whole of this scene, so -terrible in its intensity, now sprang to his feet with a cry of rage.</p> - -<p>"It's a lie—a lie!" he said, savagely. "Fanks! Marson! you surely -don't believe this man—this vile wretch who would sell his soul for -money? He killed Melstane himself—I am sure of it!—and tells this -lie to ruin an innocent woman and to save his own worthless life. Look -at him, all of you? The spy—the traitor—the defamer—the poisoner."</p> - -<p>Judas was standing by his chair, breathing heavily, with his face a -ghastly white, and his eyes narrowed to their most dangerous -expression. So vile, so craven, so treacherous he looked, that all -present involuntarily shrank from him with loathing.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur!" he said, in his sibilant voice, speaking rapidly in his -own tongue, to which he always reverted when excited, "you are a liar -and a fool! I did not kill my friend. Bah! I mock myself of that -accusation. Think you that I would be here, if I was what you say? -What I speak is the truth of the great God! What I declare, I saw! My -friend died by the devil-thought of a woman. And that woman is there!"</p> - -<p>He pointed straight at Judith, with a long, lean, cruel hand, and the -eyes of all, leaving his tall, slim figure, rested on Judith Varlins. -She stood still and mute as if she were turned to a statue of stone, -and for the space of a minute not a movement was made by any of the -actors in this strange drama.</p> - -<p>"What do you say to this accusation, Miss Varlins?" asked Fanks, in a -tone of deep pity.</p> - -<p>"I say nothing."</p> - -<p>The words dropped slowly from her white lips, and then the -overstrained nerves of the woman gave way, and with a low moan of -acute anguish, she sank down in a faint on the floor. Roger sprang -forward and raised her in his arms, but Judas, with a mocking, -sardonic laugh, tossed his long arms in the air, and burst out into a -jeering speech.</p> - -<p>"Yes, yes! Take her in your arms! Lift her from the ground, but you -cannot lift her again to her purity of a woman. She is lost, the woman -you loved. In her place you find the murderess. Ah! it is a good -play!"</p> - -<p>This cowardly triumphing was too much even for the phlegmatic Fanks, -and with a suppressed oath he strode up to the gibing villain.</p> - -<p>"If you say another word, you despicable blackguard, I will kill you!"</p> - -<p>The Frenchman turned on him with the snarling ferocity of a tiger.</p> - -<p>"Eh, you will kill me, my brave! Is it that I am a child you can rage -at with your big words? Miserable English that you are, I spit upon -you! I, Jules Guinaud, laugh at your largeness. Eh! I believe well. -You are afraid of what I say; but I keep not the silence, holy blue! -Bah! your sweet English lady, she is a criminal!"</p> - -<p>"You lie!" shouted Roger, madly, starting to his feet. "You lie, you -wretch! Marson! Fanks! Get me some water! She has fainted. And as for -you, scoundrel—"</p> - -<p>He advanced towards Judas with clenched fists, whereupon the -Frenchman, with a look of fear on his gray face, recoiled against the -wall. But not even the threatening attitude of the young man could -restrain the gibing devil that possessed this villain, and with a -shrill scream of laughter he went on with his insults.</p> - -<p>"For me the box, monsieur. But certainly, you are wise—you are very -wise. Come, now, if you are bold—I hide not the truth, I declare—if -your angel is not the one who killed the dear Melstane, say, who is -it? Declare the name."</p> - -<p>Roger, with glittering eyes, and a fierce look on his face, would have -sprung on Judas and caught him by the throat, when the answer to the -question came from a most unexpected quarter.</p> - -<p>Outside the room there was a shrill scream, the heavy tramping of -feet, and a woman in her nightgown dashed madly into their midst.</p> - -<p>It was Florry Marson!</p> - -<p>In her eyes shone the fever of insanity, on her dry lips a fearful -laugh of horrible laughter, and she whirled round and round in the -middle of the room like a Maenad, while Japix, who had followed her, -tried vainly to approach.</p> - -<p>"God! How like her mother!"</p> - -<p>The cry of horror came from the lips of Marson, who was holding a -glass of water to the lips of Judith; but his daughter did not hear -him. With a shriek she stopped her insensate whirling, and dashed -forward with distorted features to Monsieur Judas.</p> - -<p>"Hold her! hold her!" cried Japix, "she is mad—raving."</p> - -<p>Judas was too terrified to do anything, and stood nerveless and -paralysed, facing this ghastly spectre with the loose hair, the -frantic gestures, and blazing eyes.</p> - -<p>"What have you done with him?" shrieked Florry, making futile clutches -at Judas, "you fiend! you reptile! Why did I not kill you instead of -Sebastian?"</p> - -<p>A cry of horror burst from the lips of the listeners.</p> - -<p>"Give him to me! give him to me!" howled the mad woman, "you know I -killed him! I did not mean it! I did not mean it! The devil told me -about the morphia. Hist! I will tell you! His name is Spolger. He -lives in the big house on the hill. He has poison. Oh, yes, yes! I -know. I stole it to give Sebastian—poor Sebastian."</p> - -<p>"Gentlemen," cried Marson, piteously, "do not believe her. This is -raving."</p> - -<p>"I believe it's the truth," said Fanks, solemnly.</p> - -<p>Japix advanced towards Florry, but she saw him coming, and with a -shriek of anger, darted towards the study table, upon which she sprang -with the activity of an antelope. Her foot touched the lamp, it fell -over, and in a moment the fierce flame had caught her light draperies, -and she stood before the horrified spectators a pillar of flame.</p> - -<p>"I burn! I burn!" she screamed. "Sebastian, help! help! it is my -punishment! It is—God! God! save me—save me."</p> - -<p>Roger tore down one of the curtains and ran to her assistance, but she -bounded off the table, and running to Judas flung her arms round his -neck. With a yell of terror he tried to fling her off, but she only -clung the closer, and the flames caught his clothes.</p> - -<p>"Save me, Sebastian, I did not mean to kill you. Ah, ah!"</p> - -<p>"Mon Dieu, help me!"</p> - -<p>Both Fanks and Roger flung themselves on the writhing pair, who were -now rolling on the floor, and they managed to extinguish the flames. -Florry was terribly burnt, and the Frenchman had fainted. Old Marson -on his knees was praying feebly, and Judith, recovering from her -stupor, rose slowly up.</p> - -<p>"What is the matter?"</p> - -<p>The answer came in a wailing voice from the brokenhearted father:</p> - -<p>"The judgment of God! The judgment of God!"</p> -<br> - -<h4>Extracts From a Detective's Note-Book</h4> -<br> - -<p>"I am utterly dumbfounded . . . Judith is innocent . . . She is a -noble woman, and Florry, the martyr, who loved Melstane so, is his -murderess . . . The little serpent . . . But let me speak as kindly of -her as I can . . . She is dead . . . A terrible death . . . Well might -her old father say it was the judgment of God . . . The sight was -terrible . . . I shall never be able to get it out of my thoughts -. . . Strange how the discovery was made . . . And that noble Judith -Varlins was going to bear the burden of her adopted sister's sin -. . . What a woman . . . If I envy Roger anything I envy him the -splendid heroine he is going to make his wife . . . I take back with -shame and regret all that I have said against her in this book -. . . She is a noble woman, and Florry—well, she is dead, so I will -say nothing! 'De mortuis,' etc.</p> - -<p>"<i>Mem</i>.—To ask Japix, Roger, Spolger, and Judas to meet me at some -place in order to learn precisely how the crime was committed . . . I -should have been spared all this wrongful suspicion of innocent people -if Judas had told me the truth . . . He knew all along who committed -the crime, and was trading on the knowledge for his own ends . . . I -should have thought that even he would have hesitated before marrying -a murderess . . . but it was her money he wanted . . . No doubt he -laughs at the way I have blundered—well, I deserve it . . . I have -acted very wrongly in a great number of ways; but I would defy any one -but a detective in a 'novel' to have unravelled this strange case -. . . The mystery was revealed by no mortal, but by God. . .</p> - -<p>"Under these circumstances I can afford to bear the gibes of Monsieur -Judas in silence. . ."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_18" href="#div1Ref_18">Chapter 18</a></h4> -<h5>How It Was Done</h5> -<br> - -<p>Three days after that terrible night, five men were seated in the -study of Dr. Japix talking over the series of strange events which -began with the death of Sebastian Melstane by poison, and ended with -the death of Florry Marson by fire. These five men were:</p> - -<p>Dr. Jacob Japix, M.D.; Mr. Octavius Fanks, detective; Roger Axton, -Esq., gentleman; Jackson Spolger, Esq., manufacturer; Monsieur Jules -Guinaud, chemist's assistant.</p> - -<p>It was about midday; the world outside was white with snow, the sky -was heavy with sombre clouds, and these five men, actors in the drama -known as the Jarlchester Mystery, had met together in order to explain -their several shares in the same.</p> - -<p>Octavius Fanks had described the manner in which he had first become -involved in the affair, the methods by which he had traced the crime, -and the reasons he had had for his several suspicions.</p> - -<p>At the conclusion of the detective's speech Roger Axton took up the -thread of the story, supplying by oral testimony all the points of -which Fanks was ignorant. Having finished his story, Monsieur Judas -arose to his feet and revealed all he knew about the case.</p> - -<p>"But first, my friends," he said, with venomous malignity, "I give to -Monsieur Fanks the congratulations on his talent for foolish fancies. -Eh! yes, he is a grand detective, this young man, who thinks all have -committed the murder but the real one. Conceive to yourselves, -messieurs, the blindness of this monsieur—"</p> - -<p>"I admit all your abuse," interrupted Fanks, curtly; "go on with what -you have to tell."</p> - -<p>"Eh! I enrage this monsieur, me," said Judas, with an insolent laugh. -"Bah! I mock myself of his anger. Behold, messieurs, I tell you the -little tale of all things. Me, I loved this angel that now is dead; -but she her heart gave to the dear Melstane. She returned from the Île -de Vight and tells Melstane that her father is poor, and she is to -marry this amiable Spolgers. My friend Melstane is enraged, and says: -'I go to your father to tell him I wish you for mine.' But the dear -angel is afraid of the hard poverty. She weeps, she entreats, she -implores the cruel Melstane to release her, but he refuses with scorn. -Myself I heard it all. She speaks to me as her friend. I paint her the -pictures of starving, I make her to shrink with fear. Conceive, I -implore you, messieurs, how this beautiful one, reared in money, -dreads the coldness of the poor. She says: 'He must not drag me to -poorness! I am afraid of myself if he does. I am like my mother.' -Then, messieurs, I hear from her sweet lips that madame, her dead -mother, was mad. The poor angel is afraid she will be mad some day -also. Nevertheless, I love her, I wish her for mine. I am the friend -of Melstane; but him I love not, because of this dear one. I say: 'My -friend Melstane will pull you to the cold, to the street, to the want -of bread. Defend yourself, my beautiful. Kill him!'"</p> - -<p>"Oh!" cried Roger, in a tone of horror, "you put the idea into her -head?"</p> - -<p>"Eh! I say she was mad like madame, her mother. I told her of the -starvation; oh, but yes, certainly, I did say to her: 'Mademoiselle, -if he lives, you will be taken to poorness. Kill him!' What would you, -messieurs? I but say to her what myself I would do if in the same way. -My suggestion with fear she received, and went weeping away. But again -she sees the dear Melstane, and he tells her he will speak to her -father. She implores, she kneels, but he is hard stone. I wish to have -all the place to myself, so as to love this angel, and to Melstane I -say: 'Go thou, my friend, to some town and tell the angel to follow -thee. Then you can demand of monsieur the father what you will. He is -enchanted, this dear Melstane, and to me speaks with pleasure: 'Eh, -but the idea is too beautiful! This I will do, and if the father has -any of the money, thou, my friend, will be to me as a brother.' When -next he meets the dear child, he tells her of the plan. It is that he -is to depart to Jarlcesterre, and there when writes he, she is to -come. She says this she will do, but I, messieurs, eh! I smile to -myself. In her heart she hates where once she loved. She has fear of -the poorness. She says: 'I will myself kill this cruel one, and no one -will know of him dying.' Behold, then, on the night before goes the -dear Melstane, she comes to the pension. Myself I see her; I wait at -the window and behold. She demands from my Sebastian what he has not, -and to obtain it he goes from the apartment. Then in the box of pills -on the table she places something. What I know not then, but now I am -aware, it is the pills of morphia!"</p> - -<p>"Which you gave her, I suppose?" said Fanks, disgusted with the -callous manner in which the scoundrel spoke.</p> - -<p>"Monsieur is wrong. The truth of the great God I now tell, and I know -not where she obtained the death-pills."</p> - -<p>"I can explain that," interrupted Spolger, quickly.</p> - -<p>"Eh, truly, you were then more of the evil to the dear angel than -myself. Well, messieurs, I repeat my story. The dear Melstane departs -for Jarlcesterre, and I am free to love the angel; but I speak to her -not. I see her not, I wait for the time to speak. One says she is to -be the bride of the rich Spolgers. Eh, I laugh, but nothing I say to -any one. Then by the mistake of the office of post I do receive the -letters sent by this Monsieur Axton to Mees Varlins. I at first -refuse, but when I behold I see the mark of Jarlcesterre and open the -letters. In them this I discover."</p> - -<p>He threw a folded paper which he was holding in his hand on the table, -and Fanks, opening it quickly, gave a cry of surprise.</p> - -<p>"A marriage certificate!"</p> - -<p>It certainly was, stating that a marriage had taken place in October -between Sebastian Melstane, bachelor, and Florence Marson, spinster, -at a registry office in London.</p> - -<p>"Yes!" said Judas, complacently, "it is that the dear angel was -married to my friend Melstane. Conceive then, messieurs, why she -killed him with the poison. He had the right to take her to the -poorness. She was afraid because of my speech, and as no hope of help -beheld she, this foolish one goes to the extremes and kills the man -who holds her. Eh, messieurs, when this I see, I know I do hold the -angel in my power. Then clever Monsieur Fanks arrives and tells me of -the death. He speaks of the pills, and as in a moment behold I that -Mees Mar-rson has poisoned the husband she feared. I admire; eh, -truly, it was a great thing for a woman thus to behave. Then to myself -I spoke. 'Jules Guinaud, with this you hold, it is for you to be the -husband of the widow Melstane.'"</p> - -<p>"For Heaven's sake don't call her that name," said Roger, with a -shudder.</p> - -<p>"Wherefore not, monsieur? She was of a certainty the widow Melstane, -and her husband she killed. I go then to Monsieur Mar-rson; I show the -certificate of marriage; I tell of the death. To him I speak: 'If I -marry not your daughter I betray all to the law.' He shudders with the -fear and says: 'You will be my son-in-law.' Then comes Mees Judith, -who knows of my love; but her I quickly crush. Eh, it was very well; -but she played the traitor to me, so to her I also was cruel. I tell -this dear Monsieur Fanks that she is the criminal, and show him the -handkerchief of her which was let to fall by the dear angel. We go to -the house of Monsieur Mar-rson, and then the angel is distraught; she -is mad and tells all. Behold, messieurs, my story is at an end, and -nothing can I say more. I played for a large thing. I have lost. It is -cruel, but who can fight the angry gods? Everything I have failed in. -All are innocent but the angel, and she is dead. But I have held her -in my arms. Yes, though the flames did burn, she was to me for a -moment, so I am satisfied. Behold, then, all is at an end, and Jules -Guinaud to you, messieurs, says 'Adieu.'"</p> - -<p>Monsieur Judas resumed his seat in a conscious manner, as if he -expected a round of applause for his very dramatic delivery of his -villainous narrative. If he did expect praise he was disappointed, for -a chorus of execration burst from the four men who had listened so -patiently to this infamous history.</p> - -<p>"You scoundrel!"</p> - -<p>"Fiend!"</p> - -<p>"Wretch!"</p> - -<p>"Blackguard!"</p> - -<p>Judas was not at all dismayed, but shrugged his shoulders and smiled.</p> - -<p>"Eh, messieurs les Tartuffes, I make you the compliments. If you had -been as me, acted the same you would have, I think. But all I have -told, and now will the dear Spolger tell us of the pills which he gave -to the angel?"</p> - -<p>"I did not give her pills, you wicked wretch," said Spolger, -vehemently. "I was as much in the dark as you about the cause of -Melstane's death. The whole affair has been a great blow to me. I do -not know when my nerves will recover."</p> - -<p>"Will you tell us your story, Mr. Spolger?" said Fanks, politely.</p> - -<p>"Certainly; if only to disabuse your mind of the suspicions put into -it by that infernal scoundrel there."</p> - -<p>The Frenchman, at whom this compliment was pointed, threw an ugly look -at the millionaire which foreboded anything but good to that -gentleman's well-being, but with his accustomed presence of mind soon -recovered himself with an enigmatic smile.</p> - -<p>"My faith, this 'dear Spolgers' is a tragedy of one act. Is it not -so?"</p> - -<p>"No, it isn't," retorted Mr. Spolger, tartly; "and now, as you've -given your version of the story, perhaps you'll permit me to tell mine -to these gentlemen, and clear myself from your vile insinuations."</p> - -<p>Judas nodded his red head with a mocking smile, and Mr. Spolger, after -glancing at him viciously, immediately explained himself.</p> - -<p>"The whole affair is this," he said, in his peevish voice. "Miss -Marson was up at my house before Melstane went to Jarlchester, and -displayed considerable curiosity about the manufacture of the 'Spolger -Soother,' which you no doubt know is a pill meant to soothe the nerves -and give a good night's rest. I was willing to show Miss Varlins all -the attention possible, and therefore made up some pills for her with -my own hands, to show her how it was done. As there is morphia in the -pills, I weighed out the requisite quantity with great care, upon -which she asked me if I made a mistake and put in too much, what would -be the result. I told her that in such a case the person would -probably die. Upon which she made a remark which struck me as curious -then, but which does not strike me as curious now. She said: 'If, -then, you made one pill with too much morphia in it, the person taking -it would die, and even if the rest of the pills were examined, no -reason could be given for his death.' I assured her that this would -probably be the case, but said that all our 'Soothers' were -manufactured in a most careful manner. After this she manifested no -further interest in the pills being made, so I sealed up the jar of -morphia and placed it on the shelf. Shortly afterwards, I was called -out of the room, and was absent for about a quarter of an hour; so -I've no doubt that in my absence the unhappy girl took some morphia -out of the bottle—if you remember, Mr. Fanks, the seal was -broken—and carrying it home with her, made the two fatal pills -according to the method I had shown her. These pills she -afterwards—according to the story of Monsieur Judas—placed in the -box of tonic pills left by Melstane on the table. Down at Jarlchester -he took one and died; the other, I understand from Mr. Fanks, was -analysed by Dr. Japix, and found to contain a great deal of morphia. I -am afraid, therefore, that in all innocence I contributed to the -catastrophe of Melstane's death. I beg to state, however, that there -is this difference between myself and Monsieur Guinaud. He put the -idea willingly into her head to kill Melstane. I showed her how, but -inadvertently; so I am confident, gentlemen, that you will admit that -no blame attaches to me in the affair."</p> - -<p>"Of course not," said Japix, emphatically, when Spolger had finished; -"what you did, you did in all innocence. For my part, I look upon -Monsieur Judas as culpable."</p> - -<p>"Eh, truly," said Judas, with a sneer, "and for why, monsieur? I did -not kill the dear Melstane."</p> - -<p>"No; but you put the idea of killing him into Miss Marson's head!"</p> - -<p>"That is not guilt, monsieur."</p> - -<p>"Not legally, certainly, but morally!"</p> - -<p>"Name of names! I care not for your morals, me. The law cannot touch -me, so I laugh at your reproach."</p> - -<p>"Nevertheless, Monsieur Judas," said Fanks, meaningly, "I would -recommend you to leave Ironfields as soon as possible!"</p> - -<p>"And for why? No one knows of this affair. Is it not so?"</p> - -<p>"Of course! But though your character is not known to the world, it is -to me. I am the law, and the law shall force you to leave this place. -A man like you is dangerous, so you had better go back to your Paris, -where you will find a few congenial scoundrels like yourself!"</p> - -<p>"Eh, monsieur! I have no wish to stay in this rain climate," said -Judas, scoffingly; "but if I chose to stay I would, certainly!"</p> - -<p>"Try," said Fanks, significantly,</p> - -<p>But Monsieur Judas had no wish to try. He simply shrugged his -shoulders, and intimated that if they had learned all they desired -from him, he was anxious to depart. Roger, however, asked him to -resume his seat.</p> - -<p>"I think it is only just to state the part taken by Miss Varlins in -this lamentable affair," he said, quietly. "She had no idea that Miss -Marson had anything to do with the death of Melstane for a long time. -She asked me to obtain the letters from Melstane, thinking that he -might use them to create a scandal, but she did not know that the -certificate of marriage was among them. When, however, Miss Marson was -ill, she betrayed the fact of the marriage and the existence of a -certificate in her delirium. Miss Varlins was anxious to keep the fact -of the marriage quiet, as, seeing Melstane was now dead, the whole -affair might blow over. This was the reason she refused to let Mr. -Fanks see the letters without her first looking through them, as she -thought he might discover the marriage certificate and connect Miss -Marson indirectly with the death of her miserable husband. Of the -horrible truth, however, she had no idea till later on, when Miss -Marson, in her sick-bed ravings, betrayed the whole affair. She then -acted in a manner befitting her noble nature. The dead girl, -gentlemen, was left to Miss Varlins as a sacred charge by the late -Mrs. Marson, and Miss Varlins proved herself worthy of the trust. She -resolved to stand between the guilty woman and the law, even at the -cost of ignominy and disgrace to herself. I implored her to tell me -the truth, never for a moment deeming her guilty. She refused to -answer my questions, she refused to either deny or affirm the -accusation, and it was then I guessed she was shielding some one; but -I never thought it was Florry Marson; I thought it was her father. -Now, gentlemen, the mystery is cleared up—the riddle is guessed. -Florry Marson murdered the unhappy man who died at Jarlchester; but -had it not been for the accident of her escaping from her sick-room -and revealing her guilt in her delirium, Miss Varlins would have had -to bear the stigma of this crime. A noble woman, gentlemen, you must -all of you confess."</p> - -<p>"Noble indeed," assented all present, except Judas, who laughed -quietly to himself.</p> - -<p>"In a few months," resumed Roger, his voice trembling, "I hope to lead -her to the altar as my wife, and I pray to God that the brightness of -the future will make amends for the sorrows of the past, and that I -may prove worthy of this pearl of womanhood which I hope soon to have -in my keeping."</p> - -<p>"Amen!" said Japix, in his deep voice. "And now one word more. Florry -Marson is dead, so of her let us speak kindly. It is true she killed -Melstane; but, gentlemen, she was guiltless of the crime in one sense. -Her mother, a shallow, frivolous woman, was insane with a suicidal -mania, and several times tried to destroy herself. She died, -mad—raving mad, and the insanity in her blood descended to her -unhappy daughter. Hence the reason of Miss Varlins' great care and -watchfulness. She was aware that the seeds of a homicidal mania were -in the blood of the happy, laughing girl, and might develop when least -expected. They developed, gentlemen, when she received a shock from -the conduct of Melstane. He had thought her rich; then he found she -was poor, and instead of making the best of it, as any honourable man -would have done, he threatened her until her delicately poised brain -went off the balance. Even then, however, she might have been saved -from the crime, had she been left alone. But the idea of murder was -placed in her mind by the respectable Guinaud, and once there, it soon -took shape. With the usual cunning of mad people, she resolved to -commit the crime with as little danger to herself as possible. No idea -of how to do it, however, occurred to her mind until her unfortunate -conversation with Mr. Spolger, in which he showed her the way."</p> - -<p>"In all innocence," interrupted Spolger, hastily.</p> - -<p>"Of course, in all innocence," replied Japix, gravely. "Once having -the idea of how to do it in her head, she put it into execution. She -made the pills and watched her opportunity to place them in the box -unknown to Melstane. How she managed it you know from the story of -Monsieur Judas; but I am certain that if Melstane had shown her a -little kindness, a little forbearance, she would have relented at the -last moment. She was not altogether mad; she hardly knew what she was -doing, and it was only when she heard suddenly of Melstane's death -that the full enormity of her crime struck her. What was the result, -gentlemen? It sent her mad—raving mad. She died, as we know, -terribly, but even such a death was a blessing in disguise, for she -would never have recovered her reason, and would have died in a -madhouse."</p> - -<p>Every one present having thus given his evidence, Fanks summarized -the whole affair in a few shorthand notes in his secretive little -pocket-book.</p> - -<p>"When Florry Marson married Sebastian Melstane, she was sane. The -seeds of insanity were in her blood, but had not developed.</p> - -<p>"Owing to the brutal treatment of her husband and the suggestions of -Judas, the hereditary disease became manifested in her in the form of -a homicidal mania.</p> - -<p>"The conversation with Jackson Spolger showed her a method by which -she could kill her now hated husband at small risk to herself.</p> - -<p>"She took advantage of it, made the pills with morphia stolen from -Spolger's bottle, and placed the pills in the box during a visit to -Binter's boarding-house.</p> - -<p>"Melstane went down to Jarlchester to await her arrival, and took the -pill in all innocence. The sudden news of his death upset the balance -of her brain and sent her mad.</p> - -<p>"From such madness she could never have recovered, so it was most -merciful that she died."</p> - -<p>The Jarlchester Mystery thus having been solved, Fanks replaced his -note-book in his pocket, and the company prepared to break up. The -first to go was Monsieur Judas, who stood at the door, hat in hand, -smiling blandly on the four Englishmen.</p> - -<p>"Messieurs," said Judas, in his most suave voice, "I make you my best -compliments on your brains. You have been all in the dark. I, Jules -Guinaud, showed you the light, and with brutal behaviour you have -spoken to me. The dear angel is dead, my friend Melstane is dead, so -now I leave this foggy climate of yours for my dear France. You have -not the politeness, you English! You are all coarse of the style of -your bifsteak. Bah! I mock myself of you! But I say no more. Adieu, -messieurs, adieu! The politeness of the accomplished French survives -the brutality of the bulldog English! Adieu! and for a good-bye -English: Damn you all, messieurs!"</p> - -<p>And the accomplished Judas, beaten on every point, but polite to the -end, vanished from the room, and later on from Ironfields itself.</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4><a name="div1_19" href="#div1Ref_19">Chapter 19</a></h4> -<h5>Mr. Fanks Finishes the Case</h5> -<br> - -<p>. . . I had quite intended to duly label this note-book, and put it -away among my papers, but somehow I forgot to do so, and only came -across it the other day by accident. I have been reading the -Jarlchester Mystery over again, and it struck me as one of the most -extraordinary cases I have ever had the pleasure of investigating. It -is now about a year ago since I left Ironfields after having brought -Judas to book, and I am rather pleased at discovering this pocket-book -now, as it gives me an opportunity of completing the case by telling -his fate . . .</p> - -<p>". . . In the <i>Figaro</i> of last Monday I read an account of a certain -Jules Guinaud, who is none other than my old friend, Monsieur Judas. -It appears that after having left Ironfields, the accomplished Judas -returned to Paris as offering a wider field for his peculiar talents, -and there he married a very wealthy young lady. After the marriage, -however, Monsieur Judas found out that his mother-in-law had the -money, and it would not descend to the daughter until her death. On -discovering this disagreeable state of things, Monsieur Judas -proceeded to put his mother-in-law out of the way, and managed to do -so by means of his old poison, morphia. Madame Judas inherited the -money, monsieur had the handling of it, and all was going well, only -monsieur found madame flirting with a good-looking cousin. Filled with -virtuous indignation at the violation of the domestic hearth, Monsieur -Judas proceeded to poison the cousin, but before he could manage it, -madame, remembering the suspicious death of her mother, interfered, -and the end of the affair was the recovery of the cousin, the -exhumation of the mother-in-law's body, and the arrest of Monsieur -Judas . . .</p> - -<p>". . . He made a very ingenious defence, but the case was clearly -proved against him, and he was sentenced to the guillotine. Monsieur -Judas, however, it appears, had some influence in an underhand way, -and got his sentence commuted to penal servitude; so now he is on his -way to New Caledonia, where he will stay for the rest of his life in -congenial company. It is reported that Madame Judas intends to get a -divorce, in which case I presume she will marry the good-looking -cousin. . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Monsieur Judas thus being disposed of, I had better make a note -of the present condition of the other actors in the mystery. . . .</p> - -<p>". . . After Florry Marson's death her father fell into his dotage. -Shortly afterwards his firm became bankrupt; the second blow was too -much for him, and he died six months ago. . . .</p> - -<p>". . . Roger Axton is married to Judith Varlins, and I envy him his -noble wife. They have not much money, but still manage to live -moderately well on Roger's income, in a pretty cottage at Hampstead. I -dined there last Sunday, and Roger showed me the MS. of his new novel, -which is so good that I predict a success. But who can tell if it will -be a success? The public? No. The publishers? No. Not even the -critics. At all events, Roger and his dear wife are very happy—so -happy, indeed, that I think I must follow their example. But where -will I find a wife like Judith? . . .</p> - -<p>". . . The last I heard of Mr. Spolger was that he had taken up his -abode at Malvern to drink the waters. He is still ill, and still -trying new medicines. The Soother is selling very largely, and every -one takes it—except the proprietor. . . .</p> - -<p>". . . As to Japix, well, I saw him two weeks ago, and we had a little -conversation over the Jarlchester affair. It arose out of a simple -remark of mine. . . .</p> - -<p>"'One thing puzzles me,' I said, 'in reference to the Jarlchester -case, how such a shallow little piece of frivolity as Florry Marson -could carry out her plans so cleverly.'</p> - -<p>"'The cunning of madness,' replied Japix, after a pause. 'I told you -her mother was mad, and of course it broke out in her. Clever? I -should think she was. Do you remember how cleverly she acted about -Melstane, saying that she loved him, and all the rest of it, yet all -the time she knew he had death in that pill-box?'</p> - -<p>"'If she had been a strong-minded woman—'</p> - -<p>"'If she had been, my dear boy, she very likely would not have -committed the crime. It is your shallow-brained beings that commit -most crimes. The least shock sends their weak heads off the balance, -and they don't know what they are doing. In this case, however, as -I've told you a dozen times, it was hereditary insanity.'</p> - -<p>"'A strange case!'</p> - -<p>"'A very strange case, and what a noble woman Mrs. Axton is! By the -way, how is Mrs. Axton? I've not been to see them yet.'</p> - -<p>"'Mrs. Axton,' I replied, solemnly, 'is quite well, but is expecting -an interesting event. They are going to call him Octavius after me.'</p> - -<p>"Japix roared like a Bull of Bashan.</p> - -<p>"'You seem pretty certain about the sex,' he observed, wiping his -eyes; 'but fancy calling the first child Octavius, which means eighth. -It's like a riddle.'</p> - -<p>"'And why not? The whole marriage arose out of a riddle.'</p> - -<p>"'How so?'</p> - -<p>"'The Jarlchester Mystery.'</p> - -<p>"'Well, you've found out your riddle,' said Japix, coolly; 'but, as -you can't guess how such a frivolous girl as Florry could commit such -a clever murder, it's a riddle to you still.'</p> - -<p>"'It is! Let us put it in the form of an epigram.'</p> - -<p>"'Proceed.'</p> - -<p>"'This is a riddle! Guess it. 'Tis still a riddle!'</p> - -<p>"'Humph! Author?'</p> - -<p>"'Myself.'</p> - -<p>"'I thought so,' said Japix, rudely, and departed."</p> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<h4>THE END</h4> -<br> -<br> -<br> -<br> - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Monsieur Judas, by Fergus Hume - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MONSIEUR JUDAS *** - -***** This file should be named 55617-h.htm or 55617-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - https://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/6/1/55617/ - -Produced by Charles Bowen from text provided by Walter -Moore for Project Gutenberg Australia. - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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