As a rule first performances in Melbourne take place on Saturday night, consequently the criticisms on "Faust Upset" were in Monday's papers. Simultaneously with the notices of the burlesque, there appeared an announcement that the author of the piece had been arrested for the murder of Jacob Lazarus.
Keith was very little known in Melbourne, so his arrest personally caused little talk; but the fact that a successful author and a murderer were one and the same person caused a great sensation.
The criticisms on the burlesque were, as a rule, good, and though some of the papers picked out faults, yet it was generally agreed that the piece had been a wonderful success; but the sensation of a successful colonial production having taken place was merged in the greater sensation of the discovery of the Russell Street murderer.
Keith Stewart, protesting his innocence of the charge, had immediately been taken off to gaol, and Eugénie was unable to see him until she got the permission of the proper authorities; but feeling certain that he had not committed the crime, she called on Ezra atThe Penny Whistleearly on Monday morning.
On sending up her card, she was shown into Ezra's room, and there found that Naball was present. The detective, who was fully convinced of Keith's guilt, had called in order to find out for certain from Ezra all about the prisoner's movements on the night in question.
When Eugénie entered the room, Ezra, who looked pale and careworn, arose and greeted her warmly. He then introduced her to Naball, who looked keenly at the sad face of the woman who was engaged to the man he had hunted down.
"Mr. Naball," said Ezra, indicating the detective, "has called upon me to find out about Stewart's movements on the night my father was murdered."
"Yes; that's so," replied Naball, with a shrewd glance at the Jew.
"Well," said Eugénie impatiently, "surely you can explain them, for Keith told me you were with him all the time."
Ezra looked dismal.
"No, I wasn't with him all the time; I only met him at the Bon-Bon, and I left before he did."
"Yes," interposed the detective smoothly; "and, according to Mr. Mortimer, Stewart left there about half-past twelve o'clock."
"And then, I presume," said Eugénie, with fine disdain, "you think he went and murdered Lazarus right off?"
"Well," observed Naball, deliberately smoothing his gloves, "according to the doctor's evidence, the crime was committed about twelve o'clock, or a little later. Now Stewart can't say where he was between the time he left the theatre and the time he met Villiers."
"He was wandering about the streets," explained Eugénie.
Naball smiled cynically.
"Yes; so he says."
"And so every one else says who knows Keith Stewart," retorted the girl. "He is incapable of such an act."
Naball shrugged his shoulders as much as to say that he had nothing to urge against such an eminently feminine argument.
Eugénie looked angrily at the detective, and then turned in despair to the Jew.
"You don't believe him guilty?" she asked.
"No, on my soul, I do not," he replied fervently; "still appearances look black against him."
Miss Rainsford thought for a few moments, and at last bluntly asked Naball the same question.
"Do you believe him guilty?"
"As far as my experience goes," said the detective coolly, "I do."
"Why?"
Naball produced a little pocket-knife, and began to trim his nails.
"The evidence is circumstantial," he said, shrugging his shoulders, "but the evidence is conclusive."
"Would you mind telling me what the evidence is?"
The detective shut his knife with a sharp click, slipped it into his waistcoat pocket, and, leaning over the table, looked steadily at Eugénie.
"Miss Rainsford," he said gravely, "I admire you very much for the way you stand up for Stewart, but, believe me, that though I would gladly see him free, yet the proofs are too strong to suppose him innocent."
Eugénie bent her head coldly. "Would you mind telling me the evidence?" she reiterated.
Naball, rather perplexed, looked at Ezra. "Yes, tell her all you know," said that gentleman. "I think, myself, Stewart is innocent, and perhaps Miss Rainsford may throw some light on the mystery."
"I don't call it a mystery," retorted Naball impatiently; "it's as clear as day. I'm willing to tell all I know; but as to Miss Rainsford throwing any light on the subject, it's absurd."
Eugénie questioned him for the third time in the same words.
"Would you mind telling me the evidence?"
"Certainly," said Naball sharply. "Stewart was in employment of the deceased as his clerk. He came to Melbourne with no money, and, according to his own account, given in this very room, and in the presence of this gentleman, he becomes possessed of a sum of five hundred pounds, which was mysteriously placed to his credit at the Hibernian Bank. I went to the bank, and discovered from the manager that such a sum had been placed to the prisoner's credit, but he refused to tell me by whom, so, as was only natural, I concluded that Stewart had robbed his employer of the money, and under a feigned name placed it to his credit. My reasons for such a belief are this--he had full command of all the books, and could cook the accounts as he liked. He did so, and obtained this money. Lazarus, however, who I know was a very sharp man, had suspicions, and determined to examine the books; this, of course, meant ruin to Stewart, so he made up his mind to kill his master. He was at the Skylarks' Club on the night of the murder, and gave Mr. Fenton, the manager of The Never-say-die Insurance Company, his knife to open a champagne bottle; that knife was one given to him by the child of Kitty Marchurst, and has on it an inscription, 'From Meg.' On receiving it back, he placed it in the pocket of his overcoat, and walked to the Bon-Bon. After an interview with Mr. Mortimer, he left the Bon-Bon at half-past twelve o'clock, went up to Russell Street, and entering by the back window (the position of which he knew thoroughly), killed the old man; then he took the keys from under the pillow, and robbed the safe of various things, including bank-notes to the amount of one hundred pounds, which he knew were placed therein; while leaving the place, he dropped his knife outside the window; he then wanders about the streets, perhaps goes home, but horror-struck with the dread of being found out, returns to the scene of his crime, and there sees Villiers, whom he questions, but getting no response from him, thinks Villiers is drunk. Villiers, however, was only shamming, and tells me some time afterwards that he picked up a knife under the open window, and was cognisant of the murder. I obtain the knife, and it is the one Stewart had in the club, with the inscription on it. I think, therefore, the evidence is very clear."
"In what way?" asked Eugénie quietly.
The detective became a little exasperated.
"Good heavens!" he said in an annoyed tone of voice, "there are three strong proofs: first, he is possessed of a large sum of money he can't account for; second, he is unable to prove analibi; and third, his knife, covered with blood, is found on the scene of the crime."
"So far so good," said Eugénie ironically; "your reasoning is excellent, Mr. Naball, but untrue."
"Untrue?"
"I repeat untrue," she replied. "With regard to the five hundred pounds--I paid that into his credit."
"You," said Ezra, while Naball stared at her thunder-struck, "a poor girl."
"I'm not a poor girl," said Miss Rainsford coolly. "On the contrary, I'm worth fifty thousand pounds left to me by a sharebroker in Sandhurst. I did not tell Keith of my fortune as I wanted him to love me for myself. But as I knew he was poor, I placed to his credit the sum of five hundred pounds; so that settles your first proof, Mr. Naball."
"Well, it's certainly very curious," said Naball, after a pause. "I hardly know what to think--what about my second proof?"
"Oh! that's more difficult to prove," said Eugénie; "but I quite believe he did wander about. He's rather absent-minded, I know."
"Your answer to my second proof is weak," replied Naball sardonically. "And the third--"
"About the knife? Well," said Miss Rainsford, knitting her brows, "he had it at the club, you say, and slipped it into his overcoat pocket."
"Exactly."
"Then he went to the Bon-Bon."
"He did."
"And what happened to his overcoat there?' asked Eugénie.
"I can tell you," replied Ezra. "He took it off, and in mistake Caprice carried it downstairs with her fur mantle."
"Oh, did she take it away with her?" asked Naball quickly.
"No," said Ezra quietly, "she found out she had it when she was putting on her mantle in the carriage, and called me back to return it. I took it upstairs again, and gave it to Keith, who put it on."
"And the knife was still in the pocket?" said Eugénie.
"I suppose so," replied Ezra, rather confused. "I didn't even know the knife was there."
"What do you think?" asked Miss Rainsford, turning to Naball.
That astute young man wrinkled his brows.
"I see what you are driving at," he said rapidly. "You think that Caprice took the knife out of the pocket, saw the whole chance in a flash, and committed the crime."
"No! no!" cried Eugénie, horror struck. "I'm sure I don't believe she could be guilty of a crime."
"Humph! I don't know so much about that," said Naball disbelievingly.
"What nonsense," broke in Ezra angrily; "she could not have done such a thing--she had no motive."
Naball did not reply to this remark, but rising from his seat, walked hurriedly up and down the room in a state of great excitement. He had been fully convinced of the guilt of Stewart, but the conversation of Eugénie had shaken his belief, and he began to puzzle over the new aspect of the case.
"I wonder if Caprice ever had any dealings with Lazarus?" he said to himself, thinking of the diamond robbery.
"Yes," broke in Eugénie sharply, "she had--at least," in answer to Naball's questioning look, "when I was at the theatre on Saturday night a boy near me said he had seen her at Lazarus's place."
"A boy," asked Ezra sharply, "what boy?"
"I don't know," she replied; "a thin, pale-faced Jewish-looking boy, with a shrill voice."
"Isaiah," said Naball and Ezra with one voice, and then looked at one another, amazed at this new discovery.
"By Jove!" said the detective, "this is becoming exciting. You are sure you heard the boy say that?"
"Yes, I'm sure--quite sure," answered Eugénie firmly; "but I don't think that could prove Caprice guilty. Much as I wish to serve Keith, I don't want to ruin her."
Naball glanced at her keenly, then turned to Ezra.
"Send for the boy," he said sharply, "and we'll find out all about Caprice's visits to your father's place."
"It mightn't have anything to do with the murder," said Ezra, ringing the bell for the messenger.
"True," replied Naball, "but, on the other hand, it might have a good deal to do with the diamond robbery."
When the messenger had been despatched, Naball drew his seat up to the table, and began to make some notes, after which he turned to Eugénie.
"I was firmly convinced of Stewart's guilt," he said quietly; "but what you have told me throws a new light on the subject. I said you could not do that--I beg your pardon--you can."
Eugénie bowed her head in acknowledgment of the apology, and asked him a question in a hesitating manner.
"You don't think Caprice is guilty?"
"I think nothing at present," he replied evasively; "not even that Stewart is innocent. When I see the boy, I'll tell you what I think."
They talked on together for a few minutes, and then there came a knock at the door. In reply to Ezra's permission to enter, the door opened, and Isaiah appeared on the threshold, holding some papers in his hand.
"Oh, you've come," said Ezra, as the boy shut the door after him.
"Yes; did you want me?" demanded Isaiah in a jerky manner, "'cos I never knowed you did."
"Didn't you meet a messenger?" asked Naball, turning his head round.
Isaiah deposited the papers he carried on Ezra's desk, and shook his head.
"No, I never met any one, I didn't," he answered. "Mr. Ezra asked me to bring all letters that came to the old 'un, so as these came, I did."
"That's right," said Lazarus, looking through the letters. "By-the-way, Isaiah, this gentleman wants to ask you a few questions."
"What, Mr. Naball?" said Isaiah in alarm. "Oh, sir, I never had nothing to do with it."
Naball smiled.
"No! no! that's all right," he said good-naturedly. "It would take a bigger man than a sprat like you to commit such a crime; but, tell me, do you know Caprice?"
Isaiah leered significantly.
"I've seen her on the stage, that's all."
"Never off?"
"Drivin' about the streets."
"Anywhere else?"
Isaiah glanced uneasily at Ezra, who laughed.
"Go on, Isaiah; it's all right."
"Well, I've seen her at the old 'un's place."
"Oh, indeed," said Naball quickly. "Often?"
"Yes--lots of times--at night--came to do business, I s'pose."
"When did you see her last?"
"Oh, not for a long time," replied Isaiah; "but do you remember the week them diamonds were stolen?"
"Yes, yes," said Naball eagerly.
Isaiah nodded.
"Well, she came to see the old 'un, then."
Naball suppressed his exultation with difficulty, and asked Isaiah another question.
"I say--those bank-notes that were stolen--"
"I never stole 'em."
"No one said you did," retorted Naball tartly; "but you wrote something on the back of one of 'em."
Isaiah turned scarlet, and shifted from one leg to the other.
"Well, you see," he murmured apologetically, "Mr. Stewart wanted to know a good 'un to back for the Cup, so I was afraid of the old 'un hearing, and as there wasn't no paper, I wrote on the back of one of 'em, 'Back Flat-Iron.'"
"In pencil?"
"No, in ink. Mr. Stewart, he laughs and nods, then puts the notes in the cash box, and puts 'em in the safe."
"That's all right," said Naball, dismissing him; "you can go."
Isaiah put on his hat, put his hands in his pockets, and departed, whistling a tune. When the door closed on him, Naball turned to his two companions with an exulting light in his eyes.
"What do you think now, Mr. Naball?" asked Eugénie.
"Think. I think as I've done all along," he replied. "Caprice stole those jewels herself, and sold them to old Lazarus."
"But what's that got to do with the death of my father?" asked Ezra.
"Perhaps nothing--perhaps a lot," said the detective. "I don't know but that boy's evidence has given me a clue. Suppose--I'm only supposing, mind you--Caprice stole her own diamonds, with Villiers as an accomplice. Suppose she took them to old Lazarus and sold 'em. Suppose Villiers, thinking the old man has them in his safe, goes to rob him, and commits the murder to do so. Suppose all that--I should think there would be a very pretty case against Villiers."
"Yes; but Keith's knife?" said Eugénie.
"Ah, now you have me," answered Naball, puzzled. "I don't know, unless Villiers managed to get it while Stewart was fighting with him on that night, and covered it in blood in order to throw suspicion on him."
"All your ideas are theoretical," said Ezra drily. "Perhaps Caprice never stole her own jewels, or sold them to my father."
"Yes, she did, I'll swear," retorted Naball decisively. "Why wouldn't she prosecute? why did I find Villiers with one of the jewels? You bet, she stole them for some freak, and I daresay Villiers committed the murder to get them back."
"I don't think my father would have kept such valuable jewels as that about the premises."
"No; he'd put 'em in the bank."
"No, he wouldn't," retorted Ezra; "he sent all his jewels to Amsterdam. And here," holding up a letter, "is an envelope with the Dutch postmark."
"By Jove!" ejaculated Naball, under his breath, "what a queer thing if it should turn out to be those diamonds of Caprice's. Open the letter."
"Suppose it does turn out to be the diamonds," said Ezra, slowly tearing the envelope.
"Well"--Naball drew a long breath--"it will be the beginning of the end."
"I hope it will end in Keith's being released," said Eugénie, looking at Ezra with intense anxiety.
That gentleman took out the letter, and glancing at it for a moment, gave vent to an ejaculation of disgust.
"What's the matter?" asked Eugénie and Naball together.
"The letter is in cypher," said Lazarus, tossing it over to the detective. "I don't think we'll be able to read it."
"Oh, we'll have a try," said Naball, quickly spreading oat the letter. "Let's have a look at it."
The letter was as follows:--
"Dsidanmo seaf utnes teh ssteon ryiks sgenlil gto teher tdhnoaus sgennid it lses teher hduenrd bneiertns."
"What the deuce does it mean?" asked Naball in a puzzled tone.
"It's a cypher, evidently, of which my father alone possesses the key," said Ezra. "I'll have a look among his papers, and if I find it, it will soon make sense of this jumble of words."
"It's like a Chinese puzzle," observed Naball, glancing at it. "I never could find out these things."
"Let me look," said Eugénie, taking the letter. "I used to be rather good at puzzles."
"We'll find this one out," said Naball significantly, "and you'll do some good for Stewart."
"You think it's about Caprice's diamonds?" she asked.
"I think it's about Caprice's diamonds," he replied.
"I think the words have been written backwards," said Ezra, looking over her shoulder.
Eugénie shook her head.
"I don't think so," she replied, scanning the letter closely. "If so, the word 'it' would have been written 'ti.'"
"Try a word of three letters, if there's one," suggested Naball, "and you can see how the letters are placed."
"Here's one spelt 'g-t-o.' What word can be made out of that."
"Got," said Ezra eagerly.
"Well, if so, in the cypher it reads, the first letter 'g,' the last, letter 't,' and the middle letter at the end."
"What do you think of that?" asked Naball bluntly.
"That the sender of this has taken the first and last letters of a word, and written them in rotation."
"I don't understand," said Naball in a puzzled tone.
"I think I do," said Eugénie quickly. "Let us take another word, and instead of guessing it, try my idea, Here is a word, 'teher.' Now, Mr. Naball, take a sheet of paper and write down what I say."
Naball got some paper and a pencil.
"Now," said Eugénie, "this word 'teher.' The first letter is 't,' now the second letter, which, I think, is the end one of the proper word, is 'e'--place that at the end."
Naball wrote "t--e."
"The third letter of the cypher, and the second of the proper word, is 'h'--put that next the 't;' and the fourth letter of the cypher, and third of the proper word, is 'e'--place that at the end also."
Naball added two letters as instructed, "t,h--e,e."
"Now," said Eugénie, "there's only one letter left, which must naturally be in the middle."
Naball finished his writing thus: t-h-r-e-e.
"That is three," he said, with a cry of triumph. "By Jove! Miss Rainsford, you are clever; let's make certain, by trying another letter."
"Take 's-s-t-e-o-n,'" suggested Ezra.
Naball wrote the letters as follows:--
s -- s
t -- e
o -- n
Then he wrote them in a line, down the first column and up the second, which made the word "stones."
"Glad we've got it right, after all," he said delightedly, and then the whole three of them went to work on the same system, with the result that the letter read thus:--
"Diamonds safe, unset the stones, risky selling, got three thousand, sending it less three hundred, bernstein."
"Ah!" said Naball when he read this, "wasn't I right?"
"So I think," said Ezra sadly; "my father evidently bought the jewels from her, and sent them to Amsterdam to be sold."
"Still," said Eugénie impatiently, "this does not clear up the mystery of the murder."
"You don't think Caprice did it?" said Ezra.
"No," replied the detective; "but Villiers might have done it in order to recover the jewels. But I tell you what, there's only one thing to be done, we'll go down and see Caprice."
This was agreed to, and without losing a moment they started.
"I may be wrong, as I was before," said Naball when they were in the train, "but I'll lay any money that Villiers has seen Caprice since the murder."
"You don't think she's an accomplice?" cried Eugénie.
"I think nothing," retorted Naball, "till I see Caprice."
The trio soon arrived at Kitty's house, and Ezra was just about to ring the front-door bell, when suddenly Naball touched his arm to stop him.
"Hist!" he said in a quick whisper; "listen."
A woman's voice, talking in a high key, and then the deep tones of a man's voice, like the growl of an angry beast.
"What did I tell you?" whispered Naball again. "Villiers and Caprice, both in the drawing-room; wait a moment, count twenty, and then ring the bell."
He stepped round the corner of the porch, stepped stealthily on to the verandah, and then stole softly towards one of the French windows in order to listen. He was correct in his surmise; the two speakers were Kitty Marchurst and Randolph Villiers.
"You'd better give me what I ask," growled Villiers in a threatening tone, "or I'll go straight and tell how you were at Lazarus's on the night of the murder."
"Perhaps you'll tell I killed him?" said Caprice, with a sneer.
"Perhaps I will," retorted Villiers; "there's no knowing."
"There's this much knowing," said Kitty deliberately, "that I won't give you a single penny. If I am called on to explain my movements, I can't do so; but it will be the worse for you, it will place--"
At this moment the bell rang, and Caprice started in alarm.
"Hush," she cried, advancing towards Villiers; "come to me again. I must not be seen talking with you here. Go away--not by the door," she said, with an angry stamp of her foot as Villiers went towards the door; "by the window--no one will see you."
Villiers moved towards the French window, opened it, and was just about to step out when Naball stepped forward.
"I'm afraid some one will," he said serenely, pushing Villiers back into the room, and closing the window.
"Naball!" cried Kitty and Villiers in a breath.
"Exactly," replied that gentleman, taking a chair. "I've come to have a talk with you both."
"How dare you force your way into my house?" cried Kitty angrily, while Villiers stood looking sullenly at the detective.
"It's about the diamond robbery," went on Naball, as if he never heard her.
"Leave the house," she cried, stamping her foot.
"And about the murder," he finished off, looking from one to the other.
Kitty glanced at Villiers, who looked at her with a scowl, and sank into a chair. Just as he did so, the drawing-room door opened, and Eugénie entered, followed by Ezra Lazarus.
"I don't understand the meaning of all this," said Caprice, with a sneer; "but you seem to have a good idea of dramatic effect."
"Perhaps so," replied Naball lazily. Kitty shrugged her shoulders and turned to Eugénie.
"Perhaps you can explain all this, Miss Rainsford?" she said coolly.
"Yes," answered Eugénie slowly; "it's about Mr. Stewart. You know he has been arrested for this murder?"
"Know," repeated Kitty impatiently, "of course, I know. I'm sure I ought to--morn, noon and night I've heard nothing else. I don't know how it will affect the piece, I'm sure."
"Never mind the piece," said Ezra, a trifle sternly. "I don't mind that, as long as I save my friend."
"I hope you will," said Caprice heartily. "I am certain he never committed the crime. What do you say?" turning to the detective.
"I'm beginning to be of your opinion," replied Naball candidly. "I did think him guilty once," fixing his eyes on Villiers, "but now I don't."
"What about the knife I gave you?" asked Villiers abruptly.
"Ah!" said Naball musingly, "what, indeed."
"I found it on the scene of the crime," said Villiers in a defiant manner.
"So you said."
"Don't you believe me?"
"Humph!"
At this ambiguous murmur Villiers gave a savage growl, and would have replied, but Kitty stopped him by waving her hand.
"It's no good talking like this," she said quickly. "There is some reason for you all coming here; what is it?"
"I'll tell you," said Naball in a sharp official tone. "Do you remember the diamond robbery at this place? Well, those diamonds were sold to old Lazarus, and he sent them to Amsterdam for sale. The person who stole those diamonds thought they were still in the safe of Jacob Lazarus; and the person who stole those diamonds murdered Jacob Lazarus to recover them."
He finished triumphantly, and then waited to see what effect his accusation would have on Kitty. To his astonishment, however, she never moved a muscle of her face, but asked calmly,--
"And who is the thief and the murderer?"
"That's what I want to find out."
"Naturally; but why come to me?"
"Because, you know."
"I!" she cried, rising to her feet in anger. "I know nothing."
"Yes, you do, and so does Villiers there," persisted Naball.
Villiers glanced strangely at Kitty, and growled sullenly.
"Now, look here Miss Marchurst," said Naball rapidly, "it's no use beating about the bush--I know more than you think. You denied that you stole your own jewels, but I know you did, in order to pay the money embezzled by Malton. Lazarus's boy saw you go to his place during the week of the robbery, late at night. You did so in order to dispose of the jewels. The crescent I took from Villiers down Bourke Street was given to him by you as an accomplice; and I listened at that window to-day and heard Villiers say you were on the Russell Street premises on the night of the murder. Now, what do you say?"
Kitty, still on her feet, was deadly pale, but looked rapidly at Naball.
"You have made up a very clever case," she said quietly; "but entirely wrong--yes, entirely. I did not take my own jewels, as I told you before, therefore I was unable to pay the money for Mr. Malton. I did go to see Lazarus one night during the week of the robbery, in order to get some money, but was unable to do so. I never gave the crescent to Villiers, as he will tell you; and lastly, as you overheard him state, I was at Lazarus's on the night of the murder, but did not think it necessary to state so. I went there after I left the Bon-Bon, and made no secret of my doing so, as my coachman can inform you. I found the door locked, and no light inside, so thinking the old man had gone to bed, I came away, and went home; so, you see, your very clever case means nothing."
"Is this true?" asked Naball, turning to Villiers.
"Is what true?" asked that gentleman angrily.
"What she says."
"Some of it. Well, yes, most of it."
"You'd better go a little further," said Kitty quietly, "and say all of it. Did I give you the diamond crescent?"
"No, you didn't."
"Then, who did?" asked Naball pertinaciously.
"I sha'n't tell you," growled Villiers.
"Oh, yes, you will," said the detective, "because if you know who stole the diamonds, you know the murderer of Lazarus."
"No, I don't," retorted Villiers savagely. "I tell you I saw her round about the place on that night, and I picked up the knife I gave you; that's all I know."
"Humph! we'll see about that."
"You are sure that the person who stole the diamonds committed the crime?" asked Caprice, with a strange smile on her pale lips.
"Well, I'm pretty sure; it looks uncommon like it."
"And you think I stole the diamonds?"
"Yes," retorted Naball bluntly; "I believe you did."
"In that case, by your own reasoning, I'm a murderess," said Caprice.
"I don't say that," said the detective; "but I believe you know who did it," looking significantly at Villiers.
"I'm afraid your reasonings and your assertions are at variance," said Kitty quietly. "I don't know who committed the murder, but I do know who stole my diamonds."
"Who?" asked Ezra, in an excited tone.
"Keith Stewart!"
"Keith Stewart!" echoed all; "impossible!"
Eugénie stepped forward with a frown on her pale face, and looked at Kitty.
"I don't believe it," she said, "and you are a wicked woman to say so."
"Unfortunately, it's true," replied Caprice, with a sigh. "I have kept the secret as long as I could, but now it's impossible to do so any longer. Keith Stewart was at my place on the night of the robbery, and heard me say where my diamonds were. He was coming to the drawing-room, and saw my child descending the stairs, having got out of bed. He picked her up, and put her in bed again. The temptation was too strong to resist, I suppose, and he opened the drawer of the mirror, and took the jewels. He then got out of the window, and came round by the front of the house so as to enter by the front-door. Meg was awake all the time, and told it to me in her childish way, how he had gone to the window and got out of it. I told her not to speak of it, and kept silence."
"Why did you keep silence?" asked Naball.
"Why," cried Kitty, her face flushing with anger, "because he saved my child from death. He might have stolen anything of mine, but I would have kept silent, nor would I have betrayed him now but that you accuse me of murder."
There was a dead silence in the room, as every one was touched by the way in which Kitty spoke. Then Villiers gave a coarse laugh.
"Ha! ha!" he said harshly; "you said, Naball, that the person who stole the diamonds committed the murder also, so you've got the right man in gaol."
Naball cast a look of commiseration at Eugénie, and said nothing.
"Wait a moment," cried Ezra, stepping forward, "we've got to find the stolen bank-notes first. I don't believe Keith Stewart committed such a base crime; he is no murderer."
"No," cried Eugénie, springing to her feet; "nor is he a thief. I will prove his innocence."
"I'm afraid that's difficult," said Naball reflectively; "things look black against him."
"Of course they do," said Villiers coarsely. "Who knows he is innocent?"
Eugénie stepped in front of the ruffian, and raised her hand to the ceiling.
"There is One who knows he is innocent--God."
All this time while his friends were trying to prove his innocence, Keith was mewed up in prison, having now been there a week. The disgrace of being arrested on such a charge had aged him considerably, and his face had changed from a healthy bronzed colour to a waxen paleness, while the circles under his eyes, and the deep lines furrowing his brow, showed how deeply he was affected by the position in which he found himself.
He steadily denied that he committed the crime imputed to him, and regarding the knife found by Villiers, could only say that, after putting it in his pocket at the club, he thought no more of it till next morning, when, having occasion to use it, he found it had disappeared.
Some time after the interview with Kitty, when she told how Keith had stolen the diamonds, Eugénie was admitted to the presence of her unfortunate lover. She had tried to see him before, but had always been refused; so when she did gain her object at last, and they stood face to face, both were so overcome with emotion that they could hardly speak. Keith held out his arms to her, with a smile on his wan face, and with an inarticulate cry she flung herself on his breast, weeping bitterly.
"Don't cry, dear," he said soothingly, making her sit down on the bed. "There! there!" and he quieted her as if she had been a little child.
"I can't help it," she said, drying her eyes; "it seems so terrible to see you here."
"No doubt," replied Keith quietly; "but I know I am innocent, and that robs the disgrace of a good deal of its sting."
"I know you are innocent," answered Eugénie, "but how to prove it; I thought things would have turned out all right; but when we saw Kitty Marchurst--"
"She said I had stolen her diamonds," finished Stewart, with a satirical laugh. "I've no doubt she fully believes it, and I thank her for having held her tongue so long; but she was never more mistaken in her life. I did put Meg back to bed, but I came down the stairs again, and did not leave the room by the window."
"But how is it the child saw you? Of course, you know--"
"I know everything. Yes. Naball told me all. Meg says she saw a man she thought was me getting out of the window. I've no doubt she did see a man, but not me."
"But why should she think it you?" asked Eugénie, puzzled.
"Simply in this way. I put her to bed when she was half-asleep, and she knew I was in the room with her. When I left, she fell asleep, and as her slumber was fitful, as I am sure it was, seeing she came downstairs, she no doubt woke up at the sound of the window being opened, and saw a man getting out. You know how an hour's sleep passes as a moment when one wakes, so I've no doubt Meg thought she'd just closed her eyes, and opened them again to see me getting out of the window."
"I understand," said Eugénie; "but who could it have been?"
"I believe it was Villiers," observed Keith thoughtfully. "He was about the house on that night; he was in want of money, so no doubt when Caprice left him in the supper-room, he walked upstairs to the bedroom, stole the diamonds, and left by the window. He could easily do this, as every one was in the drawing-room. Then Naball found that diamond clasp in his possession, or, at least, in the possession of the Chinaman to whom he sold it."
"But if he sold all those diamonds to old Lazarus, he must have got a good deal of money for them. Why did he not leave the country?"
Keith sighed.
"I'm sure I don't know. It seems all so mysterious," he said dismally. "What do you think should be done, Eugénie?"
"I think I'll see Naball again, or some other detective, and sift the whole affair to the bottom."
Keith looked at her with a pitying smile.
"My dear child, that will cost a lot of money, and you have not--"
Eugénie gave a laugh. She was not going to tell him just yet, so she gave an evasive answer.
"I've got my salary," she said gaily. "Some of it was paid to me the other day. See!" And taking out her purse, she emptied it into his hand.
"Oh! what a lot of money," said Keith smiling. "A five-pound note, three sovereigns, and two one-pound notes."
"Which makes exactly ten pounds," remarked Eugénie, with a smile; "and I'm going to pay it all away to Naball, to get you out of this trouble."
Stewart, kissed her, and smoothed out the notes one after the other.
"It's no use, Eugénie," he said, offering her the notes back; "it will take more than that to help me; besides, you forget I have five hundred pounds in the bank."
"Yes," she said, turning away her face; "five hundred."
"And you'll have it--if--if I die."
She turned to him, and threw her arms round his neck.
"Oh, my darling! my darling!" she cried vehemently, "why do you say such things? You will not die. You will live to be happy and famous."
"Famous!" he said bitterly, "no; I'm not famous yet, but notorious enough. There's only one chance of escape for me."
"And that is?"
"To trace those notes that were stolen--twenty five-pound notes like this," taking up the five-pound note.
"But you haven't got the numbers."
"No; but, as I told Naball, that boy wrote something on the back of one of them." Here Keith turned over the five-pound note; and then, giving a cry of surprise, sprang to his feet. "Eugénie, look, look!"
She snatched the note from him, and there on the back were traced in ink the words, "Back Flat-Iron."
"One of the notes," said Keith hoarsely. "One of the notes stolen on that night by the person who murdered Jacob Lazarus."
Eugénie had also risen to her feet and her face wore a look of horror. She looked at her lover, and he looked back again, with the same name in their thoughts.
"Kitty Marchurst!"
"Good God!" said Stewart, moistening his dry lips with his tongue, "can she be guilty, after all?"
"I can't believe it," said Eugénie determinedly, "though Naball says he thinks she did it. But I certainly got this note from her."
"She may have received it from some one else," cried Keith eagerly. "God knows, I don't want to die myself, but to put the rope round the neck of that unhappy woman--horrible," and he covered his face with his hands.
Eugénie put on her gloves, and then touched his arm.
"I'm going," she said in a quiet voice.
"Going?" he repeated, springing to his feet.
"Yes, to see Naball, and show him the note."
"But Kitty Marchurst!"
"Don't trouble about her," said Eugénie, a trifle coldly. "She is all right, and I've no doubt can explain where she got this note. Wherever it was, you can depend it was not from the dead man's safe. Good-bye, Keith," kissing him. "This note gives us the clue, and before many days are over you will be free, and the murderer of Jacob Lazarus will be in this cell."