"What is your name and calling?"
"I am of the Criminal Investigation Department in Paris. Joseph Pitou, a name well known."
"We are familiar with it in England. You have come to London on special business?"
"In association with my esteemedconfrère, Monsieur Lambert, I have come to make the arrest of a notorious criminal."
"You speak excellent English?"
"You are pleased to say so. It is to me as my mother tongue; as is also Italian, German, and various dialects of the Turkish and Polish languages."
"What is the name of the notorious criminal you have come to arrest?"
"Louis Lorenz."
"Do you hope to be able to lay hands on him?"
"I can lay this hand on him at any moment."
"What is the nature of his crime?"
"Permit me. Of his many crimes. Many robberies, attended with extreme brutality. And worse than robberies. One positive murder in Gallicia; another probable murder in Vienna; another in St. Petersburg."
"Up to this day he has escaped?"
"Yes, he has escaped, always escaped. Condemned to the galleys in Vienna; a week afterwards, flown. Sent to Siberia in Russia; disappeared on the road. Sentenced to death in Gallicia; his cell empty the day after he was put into it."
"A man of rare talent?"
"Of immense talent. His plans laid with the brain of a master; money ready for bribes; confederates ready to obey orders. Nothing has been too difficult for him to accomplish."
"What was the principal motive for his crimes? Money?"
"It is curious. Money sometimes, but never money alone. In every case his victim was possessed of some rare treasures of art which Lorenz coveted, and would have trodden through blood to obtain. As it happens, he trod through much blood. In this way many valuable antiques have disappeared. I have a record of them. Search has been made for them throughout the wide world, and they are still undiscovered. For years I have been on the track of them. A clue fell into my hands, and I followed it up. I hold a warrant for the man's arrest, and soon justice will be satisfied."
"Louis Lorenz can be no common criminal?"
"My faith, no! Louis Lorenz is a prince, an emperor of criminals. I have hunted for him in every city in Europe and America, and for the art treasures he has stolen. Not one has seen the light; not one has been offered to dealers or connoisseurs. He has been known here, and known there, as a man who dabbled in science. It has been said he is in search of the Philosopher's Stone, of the elixir of life. He has imposed even uponsavants, who have been seduced into believing in the miracles he declared he would one day accomplish."
"But if he presented himself in his own proper person how is it that he has not been caught, that he is still free?"
"Never did he present himself in his own proper person. Always so disguised that it was impossible to identify him. He is an actor of the first class, a match for the Evil One himself. But for the powers of darkness man is sometimes a match."
"'Be sure thy sin will find thee out?'"
"Ah, monsieur, it is true."
"You say it would be impossible to identify him with his clothes on. Would it be impossible to identify him with his clothes off?"
"'Ah, no, that is a different matter. He is branded on the back, on the breast."
Mr. Marlow: "Is not my learned friend wandering from the case we are investigating--the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square?"
Mr. Pallaret: "No. Be patient, and you will understand; I will not keep you long in suspense." (To the witness.) "You say you can lay hands on Louis Lorenz at any moment. At this moment?"
"At this moment."
"Here in this court?"
"Here in this court."
"Then he must be in attendance?
"He is in attendance."
"Point him out."
The witness extended his arm dramatically, and pointed to Dr. Pye.
"That is the man!"
A scene of indescribable excitement ensued. Exclamations of astonishment were heard on all sides, and everyone, with the exception of the French detective, the counsel for the defence, and Dr. Pye, was in commotion. They remained unmoved, the two former silent and watchful, the latter exhibiting not the least trace of agitation. In the midst of this excited scene loud exclamations were heard outside the court, where the people appeared to have caught the contagion, and presently the policemen near the door leading to the public thoroughfare were seen to be busily forcing a passage for the entrance of two persons, one a little girl, carried in the arms of detective Lambert, the other a man, white and emaciated, reclining in the arms of two constables. As they came into view a shriek from Mrs. Death resounded through the Court.
"Abel! Abel!" she screamed, and her frenzied cry was followed by an interval of dead silence.
Abel Death raised his head, and looked at his wife with a wan, affectionate smile; and Gracie, with a strange glitter in her large black eyes, cried in a hoarse voice,
"It's all right, mother! It's all right, Dick! I said I'd find father, didn't I?"
Mr. Pallaret: "Let these witnesses be brought forward to this table, where they will have more breathing space. I must ask your worship to excuse me while I speak privately to them."
Abel Death, who was very weak, was accommodated with a seat at the table, where he reclined, with a cushion at his back; Gracie, holding his hand, sat by his side; and between them and Mr. Pallaret and Lambert, a whispered conference was held, lasting several minutes. The conference over, Mr. Pallaret addressed the magistrate:
"The proceedings in this case have been somewhat irregular, but not less irregular than I anticipated when I opened the defence. My object, as I informed your worship, was to obtain, not an adjournment of the case, but the immediate acquittal of the accused. I made the observation that the only evidence against Mr. Reginald Boyd was that given by the person who calls himself Dr. Pye, and it will not be disputed that his evidence is entirely discredited. Nay, I will go farther and say that it was fabricated for the purpose of weaving so strong a case of circumstantial evidence against two innocent men as to practically ensure their conviction of a crime which they did not commit. With respect to Mr. Richard Remington, you have heard the strange but true story of the part he has played in this mystery. When he was caught last Monday night in Catchpole Square his appeals to his captors to hurry into the house for the purpose of arresting the two men who were searching for treasure there while, disguised to resemble the wax figure of the Chinaman, he was seated in its chair, was doubtless regarded by many in this court as a mere invention; but I shall now be able to prove that it was no invention, and at the same time to establish the truth of the story I have related to you. The proof will be forthcoming in the evidence of this brave little girl, Gracie Death, who has played a part in this strange mystery as adventurous and romantic as that of Richard Remington himself. After she has given her evidence I shall call her father, Mr. Abel Death, if he is strong enough, to relate what he knows. He has, as it were, risen from the grave, and thanks to his brave little daughter, is enabled to make his appearance here to-day. I shudder to think what might have been his fate had the vile conspiracy I am unmasking been allowed to proceed, and had the conspirators been allowed to leave the court. In a charge so serious, and in circumstances so strange and unprecedented, I am confident that your worship and my learned friend for the prosecution will allow me every latitude; and in furtherance of this appeal I ask to be permitted to suspend the examination of Monsieur Joseph Pitou, for the purpose of examining the two new witnesses who are manifestly unfit to remain for a long time in the air of this Court."
Mr. Marlow: "I have no objection to offer."
"I thank my learned friend. Let Gracie Death go into the witness box."
But before this could be done Gracie was seized with a fit of coughing which terribly shook her slight frame. There were few among the spectators that did not pity the child, who made brave efforts to check the cough, and who, when it was over, looked lovingly at her mother, and said,
"It's all right, mother, don't you worry about it; only I've had to hold it back so long!"
Then, all eyes upon her, she was assisted into the witness box, and a stool placed for her to stand upon, Detective Lambert stationing himself by her side to render her assistance if she needed it. When the Bible was handed to her the magistrate asked if she understood the nature of an oath; she replied that she was to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, and that she didn't mean to tell anything else. This being deemed satisfactory she was sworn, and her examination proceeded with.
"What is your name?"
"Gracie Death."
"How old are you?"
"I shall be thirteen soon, sha'n't I, mother?"
"You left your home last Tuesday morning?"
"Yes, sir, I did, and I was sorry for mother because I knew she'd worry. But I had to."
"Why?"
"Because of Dick."
The Magistrate: "Who is Dick?"
"Dick Remington, my lordship."
The magistrate was not the only one who smiled at the form of this reply.
"What had Dick to do with your leaving your home? Tell us as much as you can?"
"Well, sir, Dick and me had gone partners to find father, and to find out who murdered Samuel Boyd. I was sure father didn't do it, though a lot of people was wicked enough to say so, and Dick was sure Mr. Reginald didn't do it, and I believed what Dick believed, so I was sure, too. Dick was the captain of the ship, and I was first mate. He gave me things to do, and I did 'em as well as I could. I found out that Dr. Vinsen wasn't Dr. Vinsen at all, but Ezra Lynn, a money-lender. I always knew he was no good--yes, I did, mother! And I caught the sham doctor talking to Mr. Rawdon, the ironmonger, the man that was on the jury, and I saw him go into his shop. Well, when I saw the notice posted up in Catchpole Square that Dick had gone away, I couldn't make it out, though I knew that Dick was doing the right thing--he always does, you know--but I didn't like to be left out of it. I went to Mrs. Inspector Robson, who's been I can't tell you how kind to me--and so has Mr. Inspector Robson and that poor young lady there--but she couldn't say where Dick was, and I was that worried you'd hardly believe. Wait a bit, please--there's that cough of mine coming back again." After a silence of a minute or so, except for the hollow, rasping sounds she made, she said, with an odd kind of pathetic resignation, "It's taking it out of me now because I wouldn't let it have its way when it wanted to. I didn't dare, you know. Well, I worried and worried, and last Monday night I had my dream again."
"What dream?"
"About father. I've had it I don't know how many times, and every time father's come crying out to me to save him and to look for him in Catchpole Square. When I woke up on Tuesday morning I kept on thinking and thinking about it, and then I heard that Dick was taken up for the murder, and I had him to save as well as father. He'd been caught coming out of the house, where he'd been watching since Friday, so I says to myself, 'What Dick can do I can do,' and I makes up my mind to watch as he'd done, on the chance of catching the murderers. Dick said they'd been there, you know, and if they come once they might come again, all the more now that Dick was out of the way. That's where I've been from Tuesday night up till now."
"How did you get into the house?"
"Didn't Dick tell you? It's through the next house, where you can push open the door at the bottom of the steps. Then you go down to the cellar, and there's some bricks in the wall that you can take out and put back again. That's the way you get into the cellar of Samuel Boyd's house. There's a trap door in the ceiling that you can reach by standing on a broken chair; you push it up and scramble through, and there you are in Samuel Boyd's kitchen. I showed it to Dick, and perhaps he made use of it when he didn't want anybody to know how he got in and out of Mr. Boyd's house. And you can put everything back that artful that it'd take a clever one to find it out. So there I was in the house, with a loaf of bread that I bought with some money Dick give me. The water was on, and with that and the bread there was no fear of my starving for a little while. Nobody come on Tuesday night, and I kept myself snug. And nobody come on Wednesday. But I wouldn't give it up as a bad job, and I kept on watching and listening all day yesterday. Well, I don't know how late in the night it was, but I think it must have been two or three in the morning, when I heard somebody talking to somebody else in the downstairs passage. They talked very soft, but I heard 'em, and then they crept upstairs, and I slips into my hiding place, and watches through a chink. For I says to myself, 'If they come anywhere they'll come into the office.'"
"Where was your hiding place?"
"You'd never guess. There's a large pianner in the office where father worked, and would you believe it, there's nothing inside it? It's hollow, and it stands against the wall of another little room at the side. Oh, it's artful, I can tell you! You go into that little room, and you push a sliding panel in the wall just at the back of the pianner, and you creep in. Then you push the sliding panel back, and there you are, shut up in a box like. And if there's a light in the office you can peep through a chink, and see all that's going on. I hadn't long to wait; the trouble was that my cough was tickling my throat, but I kept it down, though it almost choked me. If I hadn't you wouldn't have seen me here. The door opens, and two men come in, without a light. 'What's the good of that?' I thinks. But presently they strike a match and light a candle, and they keep it close to the ground. I knew why they did that--so that the light couldn't be seen through the window outside in the Square. What with their backs being to me I couldn't catch sight of their faces, but I kept my eye glued to the chink, waiting for my chance. And all at once I saw them."
"Did you know them?"
"One of 'em I did, but not the other. I guessed, though."
"We will make sure. Look around the court, and tell me whether you see the other man?"
Gracie's sharp eyes had lighted on Dr. Vinsen the moment she was in the witness-box, and they kindled when they rested on Dr. Pye, but with rare self-control she had restrained herself from crying out, the dramatic instinct within her assuring her that the right moment would come for denouncing him. Being now directed, it was her turn to ask a question.
Gracie: "Who is that next Dr. Vinsen?"
Mr. Pallaret, hesitating in his reply, some person called out, "It is Dr. Pye," whereupon an officer cried, "Order in the court!" But, irregular as was this proceeding, neither the counsel for the prosecution nor the magistrate intervened.
Gracie: "That is the other man."
Mr. Pallaret: "Take time. Look again. Be absolutely certain."
Gracie: "I am. The other man in Dr. Pye."
Mr. Pallaret: "Still you may be mistaken?"
Gracie: "I can't be. I'd pick him out of a thousand. There ain't another man in the world like him."
Mr. Pallaret: "Well, you saw them. What happened next?"
Gracie: "They searched about the room a good deal, and I think they were disappointed at not finding something. After that they began to talk louder. Dr. Vinsen--I wouldn't call him that, because it ain't his proper name, but it comes easier--he said it was madness to come into the house, where they were in danger of being caught any minute. He looked very frightened: His face was as white as chalk. Dr. Pye called him a coward. There's a lot of wine in the office--father used to tell of it--and Dr. Pye took up a bottle, and opened it with a corkscrew. Then he went to the bedroom, and brought out a glass, and poured the wine into it. Dr. Vinsen wouldn't drink, and Dr. Pye laughed and said something about eating and drinking to-day and dying to-morrow. 'Look,' he said, 'it was just on this very spot you squeezed the last breath out of Samuel Boyd.' 'It's a lie!' Dr. Vinsen cried, 'it was you that did it.' 'You are a liar,' Dr. Pye said. 'Your knee was on his chest, and your hands at his throat.' Then they began to quarrel, Dr. Vinsen speaking loud and Dr. Pye soft, and laughing and drinking all the time. 'You've been the ruin of me,' Dr. Vinsen said. 'If I escape with my life I shall think myself lucky.' 'To be hanged by the neck till you're dead,' said Dr. Pye, laughing again, 'and the Lord have mercy on your soul. You blubbering fool!' I couldn't catch everything they said. 'What are we to do if things don't turn out well to-morrow?' Dr. Vinsen said. 'I am prepared,' Dr. Pye said. 'Perhaps when I get home I'll set fire to the house, and vanish in the smoke. Only I'd like to have a settling first with Mr. Dick Remington.' Take care of yourself, Dick, he looked like a devil! Soon afterwards I heard father's name--I don't know which one spoke it--and my heart beat so I was afraid they'd hear it. In a little while they said it was no use stopping any longer, and I heard them leaving the room."
Mr. Pallaret: "Stop a moment or two, and get your breath."
Gracie: "Let me go on, please--I'm all right. How's poor father? Is he feeling any better?"
Mr. Pallaret: "Yes. With your permission, your worship."
A kind person had sent out for some hot coffee, a cup of which was given to Gracie, and another to Abel Death. Mrs. Death rose, and implored the magistrate to allow her to stand in the witness box with her child, and, permission being given, a score of willing hands were stretched forward to assist her. This was the commencement of an affecting scene. She had to pass her husband, and she stooped and kissed him, sobbing,
"Oh, Abel, my dear, dear Abel!"
No one in the court spoke, and presently he whispered,
"Go to Gracie. She has saved my life!"
In the witness box her maternal feelings were not to be restrained; she clasped Gracie in her arms, and wept over her, and kissed her again and again.
"You don't mind my running away, do you, mother?" asked Gracie, in a low tone. "If I hadn't, father might never have been found."
"My darling, my darling!" sobbed Mrs. Death. "It was I who was wrong--you were right all through."
"Never mind that now, mother," Gracie said. "Let me go on, or the gentlemen will be angry. Oh, but I am glad to be back!"
Many strange scenes have been witnessed in the Bishop Street Police Court, but none so strange and moving as this. Not one of the officials made any effort to stop its progress. The magistrate made a pretence of being busy with his papers; eyes were dimmed by tears; and even when Lady Wharton, in her hearty voice, said, "I should like to do something for that little heroine," the ushers forgot to cry, "Silence in the court!"
Gracie (turning to Mr. Pallaret, one hand hanging down in her mother's tender clasp): "May I go on, now, sir?"
Mr. Pallaret: "Yes, child. Your last words were, 'I heard them leaving the room.'"
Gracie: "I remember, sir. After they were gone I couldn't stay where I was, could I? I crept out of the pianner as quiet as a mouse, and through the door of the little room into the passage. They were downstairs by that time, and lucky for me had blown out the candle; so down I slipped after them. First I thought they were going out by the street door, and I hoped a policeman would be in the Square to catch 'em; but they didn't go that way; they went down to the kitchen. Then I thought they knew of the trap door, and how to get in the cellar of the next house. But I was wrong again. I heard Dr. Pye say, 'Give me the matches,' and a minute afterwards, 'You clumsy fool--you've spilt 'em!' I peeped through the keyhole of the kitchen door, and there they were picking up the matches. I guessed that, you know, because everything was dark, but when they began striking the matches I saw what they'd been at. There's a large dresser in the kitchen, and a shelf on the floor where people put saucepans and things; and if you'll believe it, at the back of this shelf there's a sliding panel in the wall, just the same as there is in the pianner upstairs. I saw the panel move, and saw Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen creep through the hole. Then the panel was shut, and everything was dark. I didn't lose a minute. I made up my mind to see where that hole led to if I died for it, so I went into the kitchen and crept under the dresser as they'd done, but it was so dark that I might have been there till now if they hadn't left some matches behind them on the floor. Then I soon got the panel to work. It opened on a flight of rickety stairs. Down I went, without caring what happened to me. I thought there might be a well of water at the bottom of the stairs, but there wasn't. It was solid ground, and I was in a sort of a tunnel that runs right under Catchpole Square from Mr. Boyd's house to Dr. Pye's house. When I got to the end of the tunnel I had only two matches left, but I made them do. There was another sliding panel in the wall, and I pushed that aside, and there I was in Dr. Pye's house, but without a light. I didn't know which way to turn, but I felt about with my hands, and my blood run cold when they touched a face, and I only kept from screaming out loud by the fear that if I did I should be murdered. At first I thought it was a dead face, but I remembered what I'd read, that if it was dead it would be stone cold. I felt again, and it was warm. Then I heard a voice say, 'Whose hand is that?' And, oh, sir, though he spoke almost in a whisper, I knew I had found my father. 'Father!' I said, and I put my face close to his. 'My God!' he answered. 'It's little Gracie!'"
Up to this point Gracie had told her thrilling story with extraordinary composure, and every one who heard it wondered at the lack of passion in her voice and gesture. But now she broke down. Her lips trembled, her eyes wandered around, and with a long shuddering sigh she sank fainting in her mother's arms. Many of the spectators gave utterance to cries of sympathy, and ready assistance was tendered by the officials, while a hurried consultation took place between the counsel for the defence and the prosecution, at the end of which Mr. Pallaret addressed the court:
"Your worship will perceive that the witness is not in a fit condition to conclude the story which must have inspired every person here with pity and horror--except, I am constrained to add, those who will soon be called upon to answer for their misdeeds. No words of mine can heighten the effect of a recital which has stirred every sympathetic heart. It is to me a marvel how this little heroine, as she has been properly called, could have sustained her courage through three long sleepless days and nights, with only cold water to drink, and a small loaf of bread to eat. The indomitable spirit which sustained her is indeed remarkable, and I venture to say that a tale more thrilling has never been heard in a court of justice, and that the heroism displayed by this devoted child is unparalleled in the annals of noble deeds. Neither is Mr. Abel Death in a fit condition to give evidence. Your worship will doubtless agree with me that what we have heard has established the innocence of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington, and that we have sufficiently laid bare the particulars of one of the vilest conspiracies on record. But before asking for the discharge of these gentlemen, and in view of the proceedings to be taken against Dr. Pye, alias Louis Lorenz, and his confederate, Ezra Lynn, alias Dr. Vinsen, for whose arrest on the charge of murdering Mr. Samuel Boyd I shall apply for warrants, I propose, with the concurrence of my learned friend, the counsel for the crown, to call Detective Lambert, who will give information of the discoveries he has made in the house of Dr. Pye, and will narrate the circumstances under which he has been enabled to bring Gracie Death into court."
The Magistrate: "Let it be so. Detective Lambert can go into the witness box. In the meantime let Mr. and Mrs. Death and their child be taken into my room, and every attention paid to them."
When these three persons were conveyed to the small room at the rear of the courthouse, accompanied by a doctor who happened to be among the spectators, Lambert stepped into the witness box, and was sworn.
Mr. Pallaret: "We wish to hear from you an account of your proceedings this morning in connection with this case."
Detective Lambert: "From information received shortly after the case was opened I proceeded to the house of Dr. Pye in Shore Street, which has been for some time under the observation of the police. The man stationed there took me to Catchpole Square, where I saw Gracie Death, who told me hurriedly what she had just given in evidence. From the night of Friday, the 1st of March, when Mr. Abel Death went to Mr. Samuel Boyd's house to beg to be taken back into his service, he has been imprisoned in the cellar of Dr. Pye's house. Upon leaving his home to make his appeal he wandered about the streets for some time, and it was not until midnight that he went into Catchpole Square. An untimely hour, but he was in a distracted state, and was scarcely accountable for his actions. He informed me that when he knocked at the door of Mr. Samuel Boyd's house he was answered in a voice which he believed to be his late employer's; that the door was suddenly opened, and he was dragged into the passage; that he saw the faces of two men whom he can identify; that one of the men struck him so violent a blow that he fell to the ground in a state of insensibility; that when he recovered he found himself in the cellar in which he was discovered by his little daughter; that he was tied to a bench fixed to the ground, and his arms fastened behind him, so that he could not release himself; that from time to time Dr. Pye visited him, and endeavoured to extract information as to where Mr. Samuel Boyd had concealed the jewels deposited with him by Lady Wharton, and as to other hiding places his late employer had for concealing treasure; that as he could not give the desired information he was threatened with death; that no person visited him except Dr. Pye; that insufficient food was given him; that he was regularly drugged into unconsciousness, and had passed nearly the whole of the time in a state of stupor; and that he was so weak and enfeebled by this treatment and from the effects of the violent blow he had received, that he could scarcely raise his voice. I now take up the story from the point at which Gracie Death left it.
"She remained with her father all night, being afraid to leave him because Dr. Pye, when he passed through the cellar shortly before she entered it, had threatened to come back and force him to take something which would send him into a sleep from which he would never wake. In daytime very little light can penetrate the cellar, and by this dim light Gracie Death saw the door which led to the upper parts of the house. She tried it, and found it was locked from the outside. She knew that Dr. Pye had to attend the police court to-day to give evidence in this case, and she thought it best to wait till he was gone, and then to get back to the house in Catchpole Square through the tunnel, and go for assistance to release her father. He was so securely tied, and the ropes that bound him were so thick, that she could not undo them, and there was nothing in the cellar with which she could cut them. No food was brought to Mr. Death this morning, which perhaps was fortunate, as it would have led to the discovery of Gracie. The little girl had to judge the time at which Dr. Pye was due in this court, and it happens that she did so very accurately, for the detective who was watching Dr. Pye's house informed me that it was a little after eleven o'clock when he saw her running up and down Shore Street in search of a policeman. He went up to her and told her who he was, and having heard her strange story, first sent me a note which was delivered to me in court shortly after I had given my evidence, and then endeavoured to obtain admission into Dr. Pye's house. To all appearance it was empty, for no one answered his knocks at the door, and matters were at a standstill until my arrival. As we could not break open the front door I obtained a ladder and set it against the back window that looks out on Catchpole Square, the window through which Dr. Pye said he threw the flashlight. There was a shutter to the window which I forced open; Gracie had followed me up the ladder, and I assisted her into the room, in which I observed two new travelling trunks. I did not stop to examine them, but ran down to the street door, and admitted two constables I had sent for. I may state here that there were no servants in the house. Then we hastened to the cellar, the door of which we forced, and found Mr. Abel Death, as his daughter has described. When we got him into one of the better rooms, and took the ropes off him, he was so weak that it was impossible to bring him to the court, and I despatched a line to the counsel for the defence giving him certain information, and saying I hoped to be in attendance with the two new witnesses in the course of an hour or two. While restoratives were being given to Mr. Death I searched the house, and found a mass of account books and documents which had belonged to Mr. Samuel Boyd. I found also some articles of clothing which I believe will be found to have been worn by him. There was one complete suit of gray, and an overcoat with a fur collar. Lady Wharton will perhaps be able to say whether the man who visited her in Bournemouth wore a suit of that colour and a coat of that description."
Lady Wharton (from the body of the court): "He did." Detective Lambert: "One of the trunks was packed and locked, and it appeared to me that preparations had been made for flight. The other trunk was only partly packed, and was not locked. This I opened and searched. At the top, in receptacles which must have been made expressly for them, were a number of works of art in bronze, ivory, and porcelain, which I should judge were very valuable. At the bottom of the trunk was a packet which I unfastened. It contained deeds and acceptances of various kinds, some signed by Lord Wharton and Lord Fairfax, also some jewels answering to the description of those which were obtained from Lady Wharton by fraud at Bournemouth. By the time I had made this cursory examination Mr. Death was sufficiently recovered to be brought to the court with his daughter Gracie. I left two constables in charge of the house, and hastened here at once." Mr. Pallaret (to the magistrates): "Upon the evidence presented to you I now apply for the discharge of Mr. Reginald Boyd and Mr. Richard Remington."
The Magistrate: "Has the counsel for the Crown anything to say?"
Mr. Marlow: "I offer no opposition. There were circumstances of grave suspicion against the accused which warranted their arrest, but the light thrown upon the case appears to leave no doubt of their innocence."
Mr. Pallaret: "I thank my learned friend."
The Magistrate: "The accused are discharged."
Florence and Aunt Rob rose from their seats in joyful agitation, the tears streaming from their eyes, and their arms stretched forth to embrace the young men, whose progress was impeded by the throng of sympathising spectators eager to shake hands with them. In the midst of the confusion the piercing voice of the French detective, Joseph Pitou, was heard, calling for a doctor. A sudden hush fell upon the Court, and all eyes were turned upon the detective, who had resumed his place behind Dr. Pye. Upon leaving the witness box Detective Lambert had stepped to the side of Dr. Vinsen, and had laid his hand upon the miscreant's arm. Detected, and in the power of the law, the wretch now stood in an attitude of abject fear.
One of the spectators recalled that while Detective Lambert was giving his evidence he noticed that Dr. Pye gave a sudden start, and that a moment or two afterwards he shuddered and drooped his head. He ascribed this to the agitation caused by the revelations that were being made.
"A doctor--a doctor!" screamed Joseph Pitou.
The physician who had been attending Abel Death and Gracie pushed his way with difficulty to the French detective, and raised Dr. Pye's head. There was a faint smile on his lips, expressive both of triumph and contempt.
"Well? Well?" cried Joseph Pitou to the doctor.
The physician unclasped the silent man's fingers, and took from his hand a small bronze instrument in the shape of a ball. A pressure on one end of this ball released three needles, still slightly damp with the liquid which had flowed to the points. With a grave look the physician smelt the liquid, and, with his hand upraised for silence, placed his ear to the heart of the man. An examination of his wrist showed several minute punctures, caused by the needles. In this way the deadly poison had been injected into his veins.
"Well, well?" cried Joseph Pitou again.
"He is dead," the physician replied.
Despite this tragic incident there was a scene of unparallelled enthusiasm when the principal actors in the day's proceedings were leaving the Court. The news had spread with the rapidity of lightning, and crowds of people flocked to the spot; it was with difficulty the police kept the approaches from being congested. As regards Gracie the enthusiasm assumed the proportions of an ovation. Cheers were raised for her, men and women stood on tiptoe to obtain a glimpse of her. Lady Wharton stooped and kissed her, and pressed a bank note into her hand. Gracie lifted her eyes gratefully, and gave the note to her mother. Aunt Rob and Florence, the happy tears still in their eyes, with Uncle Rob and Reginald and Dick, fluttered about her.
"Will you come home with us, Gracie?" asked Aunt Rob, with a tender caress. "And you, Mr. and Mrs. Death?"
"No, thank you, ma'am," said Mrs. Death. "We must go to our little ones."
"They haven't seen father for ever so long, ma'am," added Gracie. "Did they ask for me, mother?"
"Yes, my darling, every day, over and over again. How glad they'll be! How happy and grateful I am!"
"I will take you home in my carriage," said Lady Wharton, and then energetically to her brother, "Fairfax, whatdoyou think of her?"
"Little brick," said Lord Fairfax.
Lady Wharton turned to the men and women who were pressing round them. "Do keep off, good people, and let the child have air. You'll be the death of her with your kindness."
"Dick!" said Gracie, putting her hand in his.
"God bless you, Gracie!" he said, kissing her.
"You'll come and see us, Dick."
"I am coming to-night, Gracie."
With her arms round his neck he carried her to the carriage.
A beautiful light shone in her eyes.
"The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day, where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments of this monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A full report of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge the masters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable and extraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time nor the space for a careful consideration of all the features of this Mystery-murder--no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of the child-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with the son of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilest conspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully into all the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementing the report of the police court proceedings and incidents by such further particulars as have come to our knowledge.
"Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before the magistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to make confession, with the view of showing that he was not the actual perpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon this rumour, confident that justice will be done.
"Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were found the brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notorious criminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult to speak; from the little that is known of it a strange study is presented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments, it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the science of alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be, is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, to which mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic, and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy once acknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in the world dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears to have been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regarded even the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionary ends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to be deplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate his crimes on the scaffold.
"What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeter and more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this we but echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when she issued from the police court that the people would have carried her through the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, and she and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton's carriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay our tribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities she displayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family from poverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating our wishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in our to-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, their contributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign. We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of five pounds."
There was joy almost too great for utterance in two London homes that night. After partaking of a wonderful meal provided by Lady Wharton, Gracie's little brothers and sisters had the treat of sitting up late to look at father, who, weak as he was, would not go to bed, but reclined in an armchair lent by a sympathising neighbour--ah, how sweet and beautiful is the kindness of the poor to the poor!--and with Gracie's hand in his, gazed with gratitude upon the dear ones to whom he had been almost miraculously restored. It seemed as if the dark clouds which had hung for so many weary years over his life had vanished, and that there lay before him the sure promise of better times. Lady Wharton had asked him if he would not like to live in the country with his wife and children. There was, she said, a cottage large enough for them all, and a garden, and she offered to find employment on her estate for the poor London clerk. A vision of paradise--fairy scenes, with good food, and decent clothes, and flowers, and grass, and trees, and heaven knows what wonders. In fancy they heard the birds singing, and saw the white lambs in the meadows. But nothing was settled, it was only talked about.
"And if you don't care to live in the country," said the kind-hearted lady before she left them, "we'll find something for you here in London."
Then, with a silver shilling to each of the children, she and her brother bade them a merry good night. The treasure was now hidden in six little hot palms, which every now and then were opened just wide enough for a peep--to make sure that it had not spread its wings and flown away.
There was a prayer in the hearts of Aunt Rob's family as they sat round the tea table, and joyful tears that would not be repressed. For here was Aunt Rob singing and crying at the same time, and breaking down, and kissing Florence and Reginald and Dick and Uncle Rob, and then singing again with a happy sob in her throat, and saying in the midst of it all.
"Oh, Dick, Dick, how shall we ever repay you!"
If Gracie was the heroine in her humble home, he was the hero in Aunt Rob's, but both of them were inclined to rebel against this hero-worship, and made little of what they had done.
Certain things had been discussed, and certain plans laid, by Aunt Rob's family, which needed to be carried out that night, and carried out they were. At eight o'clock they walked up the stairs in Draper's Mews, and being admitted were gladly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Death and the children. Not because of the store of food and wine and jellies they brought with them, but genuinely for their own sakes. Where they all found room to sit is one of those wonders which are never to be explained, but find room they did, and they talked and talked, and the children listened and listened, and Gracie sat by Dick's side on the poor bed, and wine was drunk by the elder people and tasted by the younger, and Abel Death's eyes brightened, and Dick, suddenly recollecting, pulled out a bag of brandyballs, which he gave to the youngsters. And then Reginald put a piece of paper into Gracie's hand.
"What is it?" she asked, and looking at it, trembled so that she had to hold Dick tight. "Mother--father--look!"
"It will be paid at the bank to-morrow," said Reginald. "Dick will go with you to get the money."
"Two--hundred--pounds!" gasped Gracie.
"For finding Mr. Abel Death," said Reginald. "And, oh, Gracie, how thankful I am to pay it!"
Gracie hid her face on Dick's breast. When she raised her head there were no tears in her eyes, but the same beautiful light in them that Dick had seen once before that day.
"You'll be all right now, father," she said, giving him the cheque.
"God is very good to us!" murmured Mrs. Death, and then all the foolish women in the room began to sob.