On leaving Goethe Cottage, Ellis jumped on his bicycle, and was soon spinning along the country roads which connected rural Parkmere with the more urban suburb of Dukesfield. Usually Ellis enjoyed the exhilaration of riding and the pleasure of admiring the scenery; but on this occasion, beyond the necessary guidance of his machine, he was preoccupied. It seemed strange to him that Garret should so strongly object to Janet as a companion for his daughter. The Captain was a supremely selfish man, as selfish in every way as Zirknitz, and more vicious. He was indifferent to his daughter, save that he looked upon her as a necessary link to bind him to Schwartz. Schwartz was clever and generous, and devoted to Hilda; he had plenty of money, and Garret, the idle and dissipated, could not do without him. For the furtherance of his plans, he usually let Schwartz manage Hilda, and Hilda's business, as he pleased. It was, therefore, surprising that he should have taken so unusual a step as to object to Miss Gordon.
"Garret and Schwartz can have nothing to do with the murder!" mused Ellis; "they knew Moxton only slightly, and they had no motive to get rid of him. Indeed, his untimely death has lost Schwartz a good customer to his gambling table, if that exists, as is reported; at any-rate, an assiduous attendant at his music-hall. Garret was anxious on Schwartz's account, hence he warned him not to have Janet in the house. He thinks she is too clever; perhaps he fancies she may learn too much. I am too fanciful--too suspicious. Yet Garret certainly mentioned the murder. What is best to be done? Janet must go to Goethe Cottage to keep Hilda cheerful; but shall I tell her of the objections--or this discussion? No, I will not bias her in any way. If there is anything to be found out, she shall discover it herself."
To this wise determination Ellis adhered. On seeing Janet that evening, he merely informed her that Hilda was mopish, and that he wished her to cheer the girl. Janet readily consented to this.
"I am very fond of Hilda," she said earnestly; "and you may be sure I shall do what I can. Does Mr. Schwartz want me to come?"
"Very much. Tell me, Miss Gordon, what is your opinion of him?"
"I think he is a good man, doctor. Several times I have been under the necessity of testing his kindness of heart, and it has never failed me. Then look how good he is to poor Hilda. If she depended upon that selfish father of hers, how wretched she would be."
"Yet she appears to be more attached to her father than to Schwartz."
"I daresay," said Janet, somewhat cynically; "it is that frame of mind which created the proverb about virtue being its own reward. People who do most are thought least of, and it is your selfish person who gets all the love and the praise. Look at my own case. All my life I have put myself aside for Rudolph and Laura; yet they think nothing of me."
"They say they do."
"Mere lip-service!" exclaimed Miss Gordon; "they would not do me a good turn however little trouble it might be. Laura is grateful to me now, because she is yet in danger, and I stand by her; but when all is well, she will think nothing of my services. As for Rudolph, he would borrow my last sixpence, and see me dying of starvation without returning so much as a single penny. Oh, I am under no disillusion about my own folk, doctor! What I do, I do from a sense of duty."
"With regard to your sister I can say nothing, Miss Gordon, as I do not know her sufficiently well; but Zirknitz--well, he is a thoroughly bad lot, and would sell his nearest and dearest at a price."
Janet demurred. "I cannot believe that he is so wicked as that!"
"But he is, and he proved it to me only the other day. He told Busham all about your impersonation of Mrs. Moxton; betrayed all your schemes and plans while you were fighting single-handed against overwhelming odds; and this because Busham paid him. Now, thinking Mrs. Moxton will recover her husband's fortune--for I told him that the real will still existed--he has betrayed all Busham's secret doings to me. What do you think of him now?"
"He is a scoundrel! I will never speak to him again. Oh, doctor, if you only knew what I have done for that man. I knew he was heartless and selfish, but I did not think he was wicked."
"Heartlessness and selfishness usually terminate in wickedness," said Ellis, sententiously. "However, one good result has come out of his evil ways. I have learnt all about Mr. Busham's intrigues, and I have given him a few days to own up."
"That he killed Edgar?" asked Janet, breathlessly.
"No, he did not kill him--at least, I don't think so. But I have insisted upon his revealing the name of the assassin, as I am certain he knows it. In another three days he must tell the truth, or I shall place the matter in the hands of the police."
"Oh! but, Laura; she will be arrested."
"No! I do this to save her from arrest. Busham knows nothing about the false will, because I do not wish to drive him into a corner by telling him how he has been tricked. But he might learn the truth from Zirknitz, to whom it had to be told, that I might learn his true attitude in this matter. If he does learn it he will have Mrs. Moxton arrested. Only by a threat against himself could I keep him in hand."
"What do you think he will do?"
"Ah! that I can't say. I know much, but not all; and the smallest amount of ignorance in any matter is a bar to giving a reasonable opinion on it. However, Time works for me, and I shall be able to defend Mrs. Moxton from her enemies. Go to Goethe Cottage, Miss Gordon, and cheer Hilda."
"Do you think you can give her back her sight?"
"Perhaps! It is a difficult case. I shall have to make another examination before I can arrive at any conclusion. In the meantime, I wish her to be lively and gay; so you must realise that wish."
"Alas!" said Janet, with a melancholy smile, "I have too much experience of the world to be gay. However, I will do my best."
It will be seen from this last observation that Janet was rapidly coming under the influence of Ellis. She was a clever woman, and, in her own way, masterful; therefore, on finding someone stronger than herself, she was prepared to obey him. This sounds paradoxical, but it is so, especially in the relations of sex. A woman must always succumb to a man, if he be a man; obedience is in the feminine blood, notwithstanding the New Woman. Janet knew from experience that Ellis was kind and generous, and was willing to help to the extent of his powers those in whom he believed; now his duel with Busham--no mean adversary--had given her an impression of his strength. Moreover, she loved him, and perhaps this was why she obeyed him without a struggle. She felt the happier for such obedience, although it was new to her. When a woman finds her master in an honourable, generous, kindly man, her happiness is assured.
Therefore, Janet went to Goethe Cottage, and was welcomed by Hilda with enthusiasm. The girl was fond of her, and loved to be in such pleasant company. Warned by Schwartz, Janet was careful to avoid the theme of the murder, and indulged Hilda in the light gossip of the day, culled from society papers. She talked of literature to the girl, and read aloud to her; she played and sang, and made herself agreeable in all ways, so that Hilda became merry and happy in spite of her blindness. On the occasion of Janet's first visit, Captain Garret hung about in a nervous manner, as though he expected some catastrophe to occur. But as the sole result of Janet's presence was to make Hilda laugh, the Captain did not appear when she called again the next day. What he dreaded, Janet could not conjecture.
The second visit was merely a repetition of the first, but had in the end a far-reaching result. Hilda chattered, and sang, and talked to her birds, and fluttered about the room like a bird herself. She never made a mistake, she never stumbled or hesitated; the limits of the apartment, the disposition of the furniture, were known to her as well as though she had eyesight. Janet, watching her gyrations, could not forbear making a remark to that effect.
"Upon my word, Hilda, one would think you had eyes!"
"Oh, I know this room and my bedroom so well," chattered the blind girl. "I have been here for nearly two years, you know. But the rest of the house is like the centre of Africa to me." She paused, with a childish smile, and clapped her hands. "Let us go over it," she said.
"Certainly, if you wish. But what good will that do?"
"I want to know how the rooms are furnished. You shall take my hand, and lead me through them, describing everything that you see. Then I shall astonish Papa Schwartz and my father when they come home."
"I suppose they will have no objection?" said Janet, hesitating.
"Of course not. Papa Schwartz said that I could go anywhere so long as a friend was with me. I stay in this room because I know it from experience; and I might go wrong did I leave it. But I am not afraid to explore the house with you, dear Janet. You shall be my eyes. Come, let us start on our expedition."
Seeing no harm in this innocent proposal, Janet assented to it as a means of amusing Hilda. Hand in hand the two girls walked into the drawing-room, which Janet described in all its hideous colouring. Hilda was shocked.
"Magenta and scarlet," she said; "it sounds dreadful!"
"But you know nothing of colours, Hilda!"
"No, but my dressmaker does. And she said that magenta and scarlet were ugly. I can't imagine them myself. She saw the drawing-room, and I merely re-echoed her opinion. What is scarlet like, Janet?"
"It is a bright red."
"But what is red like?"
Janet was puzzled. She did not know how to describe the colour to one who had no conception of tint. "Red is--red," she said at length. "I can say no more. Let us go into the dining-room, Hilda."
Thesalonproved to be less glaring than the drawing-room, being papered and curtained and upholstered in dark green. The windows were few and filled with stained glass, so that the general effect was gloomy. In spite of her blindness, Hilda felt this.
"I don't like this room, it is dark," she said abruptly. "Come away, Janet."
"How do you know it is dark?" questioned Janet, as they went out.
"I cannot say. I feel happy in my own sitting-room, because I know it is bright; but here I feel wretched. I can give you no reason. But is it not curious, Janet? I can always tell dark stuff from light. I get a pain in my fingers when I touch anything black."
"Nonsense, Hilda!"
"Well, I can't describe my feelings any better to you. One has to be blind to understand these things. Where are we now, Janet?"
"In Mr. Schwartz's study. It is decorated in dark red."
"Dark again!" Hilda shuddered. "I don't like dark. Where is the desk?"
"Just before the window, where the light falls strongest."
"Lead me to it, Janet."
Janet obeyed, and Hilda ran her fingers along the top of the desk. Then she made a discovery. "Papa has left his keys," she cried. "Now, I shall open all the drawers and take away the keys, just to punish him for being careless."
"Oh, Hilda, don't do that. He might not like it."
"Yes, he will. Papa Schwartz is never angry at what I do."
"The more reason not to abuse his kindness."
"How severe you are!" cried Hilda, with a pout. "Well, I shall leave the keys, but I shall open the drawers. After all, Janet, as I am blind I cannot see his secrets."
Janet laughed, but as what Hilda said was true, she made no further opposition. While the blind girl was opening the drawers one after the other, Janet walked to the other end of the room to look at some pictures. She was recalled by a joyous laugh from Hilda, and returned to find all the drawers open. Janet took the keys from her with gentle force.
"My dear, Mr. Schwartz will not be pleased. We must close these again."
"Oh, very well," said Hilda, carelessly. "I was only joking. Close them again, Janet."
This Miss Gordon was already doing. She closed and locked the top drawers without looking much at their contents. In the bottom right-hand drawer, however, she made a discovery which amazed her. On the top of other articles she saw the red pocket-book.
"Have you finished locking the drawers, Janet?" asked Hilda, impatiently.
But Janet did not answer. In a tumult of emotion she was staring at the red pocket-book. There it lay in the drawer, carelessly thrust in with loose papers and old letters. No attempt had been made to hide it. No doubt the drawer was locked, and but for Hilda's freak would have been opened by no one but its owner. Schwartz had not thought it necessary to conceal the book more completely. At once it flashed into Janet's mind that the German had murdered Edgar, since no one but the murderer could have become possessed of the pocket-book. In the meantime Hilda, uneasy at Janet's silence, repeated the question.
"I am just locking the last drawer," replied Janet, and, swiftly making up her mind to risk the consequences, she snatched up the red book and slipped it into her pocket. For her sister's sake it was necessary to get this evidence into her possession. Having accomplished this she locked the drawer, restored the keys to their place on the desk, and led Hilda out of the room. Towards the blind girl it was necessary to adopt a cheerful demeanour lest she should suspect that something was wrong. But Janet found this no easy task.
"Hilda, my dear," she said, as they returned to the blue sitting-room, "I have locked the drawers and replaced the keys, so Mr. Schwartz will not guess that his desk has been open. If I were you I would not tell him; he might be vexed."
The blind girl pouted. She did not like her jest to be passed over in silence.
"Papa Schwartz is never cross with me, Janet."
"No, but he will be vexed."
"Then I shall say nothing. I would not vex him for the world. He is very good to me, almost as good as father."
"You are extremely fond of your father, Hilda!"
"I worship him," said the girl, with the exaggerated emotion of youth. "He is the best man in the world. Oh, there is no one like my father."
Privately Janet thought that this was just as well, as she had no very great opinion of Captain Garret. But, bad as he was, she doubted whether he would have committed murder as Schwartz had done. It was, indeed, amazing that the German should have become a criminal; for, although Janet knew well that his character was not above reproach, yet she had always thought him a good man. It was a shock to her to find that she had been so deceived. Schwartz, who had been her good friend and benefactor, was a secret assassin. Janet could not blind herself to that terrible fact.
"Now we must have some tea," said the unsuspicious Hilda.
Under the circumstances it was an ordeal to sit at the table and eat and drink with pretended carelessness. But Janet bent her strong will to accomplish the purpose, of keeping Hilda in ignorance. The expression on her face, the frown on her brow, mattered little as Hilda was blind, but Janet carefully controlled her voice so that nothing unusual might be noticed. In this she succeeded admirably, and deceived Hilda so well that, when taking her leave, the girl had no thought that anything was wrong.
"Come again soon, dear," she said, embracing Janet warmly. "You are such a comfort to me."
Self-controlled to the end, Janet touched Hilda's cheek with her lips, and took her leave after a few words of farewell delivered in a steady voice. But on finding herself alone, she felt so anxious and distraught and horrified by her discovery, that but for the fresh air she would have fainted. As it was she did not take the Dukesfield 'bus as usual, but worked off her agitation by walking. Since the discovery of the pocket-book in Schwartz's private desk, she firmly believed that he was the criminal. In the autumn and winter he almost always wore a fur-lined coat over his evening dress, and to complete his costume, in accordance with the demands of fashion, a silk hat. Then he lived at Parkmere, and it was easy for him to walk to Goethe Cottage after committing the murder. But Janet was puzzled to find a reason for the perpetration of the crime. She knew nothing about the forged bill, as Ellis had not informed her in detail of his interview with Busham. Still, Janet knew the businesslike habits of Schwartz too well to think that he did anything without a motive, and she could not conjecture that for which he had stained his hands and risked his neck.
Full of these thoughts, Miss Gordon walked all the way to Dukesfield, no inconsiderable distance, and before seeking Myrtle Villa called on Ellis to explain her discovery. Mrs. Basket--who still believed that Janet was Mrs. Moxton--received her with the usual show of false kindness, but announced that Dr. Ellis was absent. "Though Mr. Cass is in the sitting-room," finished the fat landlady.
"Mr. Cass will do. Let me see him."
Harry was rather amazed to receive Janet, whom he had not seen--at all events, to speak to--since the night of the murder.
"Mrs. Basket announced you as Mrs. Moxton," he said, with some hesitation; "but, Ellis tells me, you are Miss Gordon?"
"Yes, I am Miss Gordon. But there is no need to let that tattling woman know the truth, she would only make mischief. Dr. Ellis is away?"
"Just went out ten minutes ago to see a patient. I expect him back in an hour."
"I cannot wait," said Janet, feverishly. "My sister will want me. You will do, Mr. Cass. Dr. Ellis informed me that you knew all about this business."
"I know everything, Miss Gordon. Anything I can do--"
"Did Dr. Ellis tell you about the red pocket-book?"
"Yes. You say it was taken from the dead body. What of it?"
Janet took the book out of her pocket and placed it on the table. "There it is," she said triumphantly. "All the papers have been taken out of it. But that is the pocket-book which the murderer stole from the corpse."
"Great Heavens! How did it come into your possession?"
"I found it by chance in the desk of Herr Schwartz."
Cass started. "Do you mean to say that Schwartz is the murderer?"
"I do. If he is not, how could he become possessed of that book?"
"It is strong circumstantial evidence certainly," said Cass, after a pause. "But Schwartz--it is incredible! I always considered him such a good fellow."
"He is, he is," said Janet, with emotion. "He has been a good friend to me. I can't conceive him guilty. Even if he is, I do not wish him punished. Let him write out a confession exonerating my sister, that is all I want."
"If he does that he puts the rope round his own neck, Miss Gordon. If your sister is to be exonerated and saved from the malignity of Busham, the confession would have to be made public."
"Then what is to be done?"
"I cannot say at present. If you will leave the pocket-book to me I will speak to Ellis, and we can come to some decision."
"Certainly I will give you the book," said Janet, rising. "I have every confidence in you and Dr. Ellis."
"Thank you. Would you mind explaining precisely how you came into possession of the pocket-book?"
"Not at all," said Janet, and she related, in a concise manner, how Hilda's prank with the desk had led to the discovery of the book.
Having given Cass all possible information, and answered all possible questions, Janet, tired out with her emotions, and with the unusual exercise, took her leave. Cass accompanied her to the door, and promised to inform her of all that should happen in connection with this new piece of evidence. Somewhat relieved, Janet went home to Myrtle Villa.
Immediately on the doctor's return, Cass showed him the pocket-book, and repeated Janet's story. Ellis, naturally enough, was as surprised as his friend, and discussed the matter with him at length. Finally, it was decided that Ellis should see Schwartz that same evening, and hear what he had to say for himself. Owing to the exigencies of his profession as critic, Harry could not accompany his friend. The doctor was not sorry, as he thought that he could get more out of Schwartz when alone with him than in the presence of a third person. He did not take the pocket-book with him lest it should be lost, for Schwartz was a determined man to deal with. As yet Ellis could hardly credit that he was guilty, and in spite of the damning evidence found by Janet he postponed, making up his mind until he heard what the German had to say for himself. In this frame of mind he started for the Merryman Music-Hail.
Schwartz was in his private room, and as Ellis had purposely arrived rather late he was at leisure at the time. So effusively did he welcome Ellis that the doctor felt almost ashamed of his errand, but, bracing himself up with the idea that Schwartz, if not the actual criminal, yet knew something about the crime, he managed to appear sufficiently stern. To the German's eager inquiries about Hilda's health and Hilda's eyesight he gave brief and monosyllabic replies. At last Schwartz was forced to take notice of his visitor's unfriendly attitude.
"What is not right, doctor?" he asked anxiously.
Ellis glanced round to see that the door was closed, and cleared his throat.
"Mr. Schwartz," he said in low tones, "I have come to see you about a very unpleasant business."
The German turned paler even than he was, and his hand shook as he tried to light a cigar. "Ach! Is dat zo?"
"It is about Moxton's murder."
"Veil, veil, what apout ze murder?" queried Schwartz, impatiently.
"I should rather put that question to you, Schwartz. Why was Moxton murdered--or rather, why was he got out of the way?"
Instead of answering his question, Schwartz, in a tremor of nervous excitement, rose and locked the door. "Can you speak German?" he asked, in his own tongue, on returning to his seat.
"A little. I can speak it slowly."
"Then put your questions in that language," said Schwartz, savagely. "I can see that you have come to accuse me of being mixed up in this crime. Was it for this purpose that you called at my house?"
"You forget. I called, at your request, to see Miss Garret."
Schwartz sighed. "Ach! the liddle Hilda," he said in English; then slipping back into his own tongue, he demanded what Ellis wished to know.
"I wish to know if you can tell me the reason Moxton was murdered?" said Ellis, slowly, in German.
"No, I cannot. I know nothing about it."
"Then I must tell you--that is, I must refresh your memory. Moxton was murdered by a man who wished to obtain possession of a forged bill."
The German bit his cigar through, and a portion fell on the floor. "I know nothing of any forged bill," he said angrily.
"That bill," resumed Ellis, calmly, "was placed by Moxton in a red pocket-book." Here Schwartz started and groaned. "Zirknitz saw him put it there. When the clothes of the corpse were examined, that pocket-book was missing; and, strange to say, Mr. Schwartz, it was found to-day in your desk at Goethe Cottage."
"In my desk!" gasped the man. "Who--who found it there?"
"Miss Gordon. For a jest, Miss Garret opened all the drawers of your desk, because you were foolish enough to leave your keys behind. Miss Gordon closed them again. In the lowest drawer she saw and recognised the pocket-book of her brother-in-law. That book is now in her possession--or rather, in mine, as she gave it to me."
There was silence for a few moments, and Schwartz breathed heavily. "What do you want me to do?" he said sullenly.
"Confess your guilt."
"And if I do--what then?"
"Then you must write out and sign a confession as to how you killed Edgar Moxton, and why."
"To hang myself, I suppose?" said Schwartz, who was growing alarmingly red in the face.
"No; Miss Gordon is too much indebted to you to wish for your death. Write the confession, and then fly from England. Thus Mrs. Moxton will be exonerated, and you will be safe."
"Ach! it is goot of Chanet," said Schwartz, thickly; "it is--it is--ah--ah!" He tried to rise from his seat, but suddenly gave a choking cry, and fell back, purple in the face, with staring eyes and foam on his lips.
Ellis rapidly unloosened the old man's cravat, tore off his collar, and threw open the door.
"Come here, someone," he cried. "Herr Schwartz is in a fit!"
When Schwartz recovered from the fit, he was taken home in a cab, and for the time being Ellis saw no more of him. He was really puzzled how to act, for the man was evidently guilty, as he had not denied the crime. For the sake of Janet, who had received benefits at the hands of Schwartz, the doctor did not wish to denounce him to the police. If he left behind him a written confession exonerating Mrs. Moxton, Ellis was quite content that he should seek safety in flight. Certainly he had murdered a man, and although his victim was a worthless scoundrel, still there was no excuse to be made for so heinous a crime. But would hanging Schwartz do any good? Ellis thought not, neither did Cass, nor Janet.
"If it was Busham," said Harry, "I would see him swing with the greatest pleasure, for he is a thoroughly bad lot; but Schwartz has so many good qualities that I should like to give him a chance of repentance."
"And the crime was not committed deliberately," chimed in Janet. "I feel sure that Mr. Schwartz did not come to Dukesfield with the intention of murdering Edgar. No doubt he wanted that forged bill, and hoped to rob Edgar while he was drunk. It was seeing the carving-knife in Laura's hand which made him a criminal. Temptation was put in his way, and he snatched at it almost without thinking. Under these circumstances, and because he has been kind to me, I should like him to escape."
"He can take his own chance of that," said Ellis; "but to counter-plot Busham, it is necessary to get a full confession from Schwartz."
"But he may go away without making any confession, Bob!"
"I don't think so. Not until he is in absolute peril of his life will he leave his idol, Hilda. Besides, I called at Goethe Cottage, and he is still ill after his fit."
"Did you see him, doctor?"
"No, he refused to see me, being engaged with Garret. But I saw Hilda, and she is lamenting your absence, Miss Gordon."
"I cannot go round to the cottage now," said Janet, with a mournful shake of her head. "Mr. Schwartz thinks that I have been a spy and ungrateful."
"Indeed you wrong him," said Ellis, quickly. "He was much touched when I told him that you did not wish the police to be told. He would have said more about it, only he fell into the fit."
This conversation took place in Ellis's sitting-room on the evening of the day following Janet's discovery of the pocket-book. Schwartz was still ill, and, as Ellis said, would see no one. The three--Cass, Ellis and Janet--were now anxiously discussing what was best to be done. They wanted to thwart Busham, to save Mrs. Moxton and to spare Schwartz; but none of these three things were easy to do. Since Ellis had given his ultimatum to the lawyer, nothing had been heard from Esher Lane. Janet was inclined to think that Busham, afraid of being implicated in the crime, had fled; but Cass and Ellis were satisfied that the man, with his grasping, foxy, intriguing nature, would stay and face the matter until his personal safety was compromised. While they were discussing this point, the door opened abruptly, and Busham himself entered the room. It was a case of "Talk of the Devil and you will see his hoof." The trio were completely taken by surprise at his unlooked-for appearance and his insolent entry.
"He! he!" sniggered Busham, who had all his natural impudence about him. "I just looked in to see Dr. Ellis, and I find company. How do you do, Miss Gordon, or Mrs. Moxton--which?"
"I am Janet Gordon, Mr. Busham! I think you know that."
"Indeed, I do not, dear lady. You are one of twins, remember--a kind of double-face female, Janus, eh?"
"Cease your insolence, man!" said Ellis, angrily, "and tell me how dare you walk into my room without knocking?"
"Oh, I informed your landlady that I was an old friend of yours, so she let me pass. She looks a fool, doctor. You don't offer me a seat. Well, I will anticipate your hospitality and take one. And who is this gentleman?"
"My name is Cass. I am a journalist," said Harry, enraged at the man's impudence. "What the deuce do you come here for?"
"Not to see you, my dear sir. My business is with Dr. Ellis, and possibly with Miss Gordon."
"Have you come to confess?" asked Janet, quietly.
"Confess! I have nothing to confess. I come here to make a proposal."
Ellis shrugged his shoulders. "You have brass enough for anything, I think," said he. "Well, Mr. Busham, and what is your proposal?"
"Let Mrs. Moxton surrender all my uncle's property to me. Now that Edgar is dead, I am his rightful heir, being his nephew, and nearest of kin. I destroyed the will--I don't mind admitting it, because Mrs. Moxton is in my power, and it is my place to make terms, not to be dictated to. Well, then, as the will is burnt, I take a portion of the property as next-of-kin; but that will not satisfy me. I want the whole, and," cried Busham, in a threatening tone, "I mean to have it!"
"What a modest demand," jeered Cass. "And if Mrs. Moxton surrenders her property as you wish, what then?"
"I shall tell you who killed Moxton. Oh, you need not look at me as though I was an accessory before the fact. I did not see the deed done. I knew nothing about it at the time, but by putting this and that together in a way," sneered Busham, "which you are all too ignorant to understand, I have a knowledge of who killed Edgar, and why he was killed. Don't mistake me. I hold all the threads of this case. If I get my price I shall save Mrs. Moxton by revealing the name of the murderer. Should she refuse my just demand, I shall denounce her to the police and let justice take its course."
"Justice!" echoed Janet, with scorn. "And by your own showing my unhappy sister is innocent."
"I know that," retorted Busham, with an ugly look, "and I can prove her innocence. No one else can."
There was a silence for a few minutes, and then Ellis spoke quietly and to the point. "Do you know, Busham, that I feel very much inclined to kick you," said he. "You are proposing blackmail."
"Call it what you like, but give me my price."
"For what? For information which we know already?"
Busham started from his seat in nervous haste. "You know already!"
"Yes. Do you think Mr. Cass and I have been idle all this time--that we have not strained every nerve to baffle a scoundrel like you, and protect two innocent women from your blackmail? You are a little late, Mr. Busham. We know who killed Moxton."
"You--you--you know!" stammered the scoundrel, white to the lips.
"Yes, we know; and we have discovered the reason why Moxton was killed. Surely you have forgotten our talk about the forged bill. Before the end of the present week the murderer will have confessed, Mrs. Moxton will be exonerated from all complicity in her husband's death, and you, Mr. Busham--well, I don't know about you. But from what I guess of your share in this tragedy, you will be in gaol."
"I had nothing to do with it. Who killed Moxton?"
"Oh," laughed Cass, delighted at the confusion of Busham, "as you know there is no need to tell you the name."
The baffled lawyer looked in turn at each of the scornful faces. Then he rose in a hurry. "This is a game of bluff," he cried savagely. "You do not know who murdered Edgar, and you are trying to get my secret from me without paying for it. Oh, I know you all; I can see through you."
"It does you credit," said Janet, contemptuously.
"Sneer and jeer as much as you like, madam, you will not look so merry when your sister is in prison on a charge of murder."
"Which she never will be," put in Ellis.
"We shall see, we shall see. You think yourself a clever man, doctor, do you not? But I am cleverer. Oh, you don't know what I am. You gave me five days to confess, as you call it, or else threatened to put the matter into the hands of the police. The five days are up."
"Quite so," said Ellis, smoothly, "and as you won't hear reason I shall see the police to-morrow."
"I dare you to! I dare you to!" foamed Busham, who had completely lost his temper. "I get my price, or Mrs. Moxton goes to gaol."
"You shall not get your price," broke out Cass, as furious as Busham. "You will not get one penny of the property."
"Shall I not? Aha, you don't know that Edgar's will is burnt."
"That is where you are wrong, my friend," said Ellis, calmly. "You burnt a copy. The original will given to me by Miss Gordon is in my possession."
Busham stared so wildly that for a moment or so the others thought he was about to have a fit like Schwartz. Ellis snatched up a glass of water from the table and dashed it in the man's face. The shock brought him round a trifle, but he seemed indisposed to speak further. With the knowledge that his intrigues had proved useless came a collapse of his courage and insolence. With a kind of sob he staggered blindly towards the door and out of the room. Ellis at the window saw him running down the road, reeling from side to side like a drunken man. Busham's nerve was broken. He did not even attempt to question Ellis as to the truth of his statement about the will. Instinctively he knew that the game was up, and that all his schemes had recoiled on himself. Never was there so complete a fall, so deserved a punishment.
"He will tell the police about Laura," cried Miss Gordon, nervously.
"Let him," said Cass. "We will have that confession out of Schwartz to-morrow, and your sister will be proved innocent; and when that confession is read, Miss Gordon, I should not wonder if there was sufficient in it to warrant Busham's arrest. There," added Cass, pointing to Busham's disappearing form, "that is the last we shall see of him." And, as subsequent events proved, he was a true prophet.
But the danger was not yet over. It was just possible that out of revenge at the failure of his plans, Busham might denounce Laura to the police. The only way to prove her innocence would be to get a confession from Schwartz. Ellis took the night to consider this question, and next day called at Goethe Cottage between eleven and twelve o'clock. He sent in his name, but quite expected that Schwartz would refuse to see him. To his secret surprise he was admitted at once and conducted into the study. Here he found the German clothed in a loose dressing-gown and seated at the desk.
Schwartz looked terribly ill. He had aged considerably since Ellis had seen him. His cheeks had fallen in, his forehead was wrinkled, and his eyes had lost their usual genial twinkle. With bowed shoulders he sat huddled up in his chair, and without offering his hand to the doctor, nodded to a seat.
"I am sorry I could not see you yesterday, doctor," said Schwartz, in a faint voice; "I was very ill, and I had much to do. But I wished to have some conversation with you to-day. If you had not come I should have sent for you."
Ellis replied in the German tongue which Schwartz, evidently for the sake of secrecy, was using. "You intend to confess, then?"
"Ah, then you are certain that I am guilty?"
"You must be. The pocket-book of the murdered man was found in that desk, and we know it was taken from the dead body. The other night when I accused you, you did not deny the charge."
"I had no time, doctor; but I deny it now."
"You say that you are innocent?" said Ellis, scarcely believing his ears.
"Perfectly innocent. Here is the confession of the guilty person;" and Schwartz, unlocking a drawer, took out two or three sheets of foolscap pinned together and covered with writing. "This is the confession," he said, "signed and witnessed."
"The confession of Busham?"
"Ach, no; the confession of the man who murdered Moxton--my friend, Hilda's father, Captain Garret."
"Do you mean to say that Captain Garret murdered Moxton?" asked Ellis, in amazement, looking from the confession to Schwartz. In his excitement he had reverted to English.
"Hush! hush!" replied Schwartz, with an apprehensive look round. "Speak in my language, doctor. Yes, Garret is the criminal. I have known it for some time, ever since I found the pocket-book, and yesterday, on seeing in what a very dangerous position I was placed, I insisted that he should write out a confession of the truth. There it is, doctor; and a great deal of money it has cost me."
"And Garret. Where is Garret?"
"On the Continent by this time. He left Victoria by the club train last night. I have seen the last of him," said Schwartz, with a sigh, "and I am glad of it."
"But Hilda?"
"Ach, poor girl! She thinks that her father has gone away for pleasure. I dare not tell her the truth; but in time I may do so, and then she will be content to stay with old Papa Schwartz who loves her."
"It is most extraordinary," murmured Ellis, turning over the leaves of foolscap. "I suspected many people, yourself included, but I never thought for a moment that Garret was guilty. How did it come about?"
"To tell you that, doctor, I must relate a little of my own history," said Schwartz, reaching for the cigar-box. "First I will tell you about myself and Garret, and then you can read what he says of the crime in that paper. Will you not take a cigar?"
"Thank you," said Ellis, and accepted this attention.
Now that he knew Schwartz was innocent he had no objection to being friendly with him; indeed, he was pleased to think that the German was guiltless, as he ever thought the man a decent fellow in many ways. They began to smoke, and Schwartz, still speaking in German in case of eavesdropping, related such portions of his early history as dealt with Captain Garret and his daughter.
"Ten years ago I met with Garret near Monte Carlo," said Schwartz. "His wife had died, and he wandered about with little Hilda, then only six years old. Garret had started life as an officer in your army with money and a well-known name, for that which he bears now is not his true name. He married an heiress and for years was comfortably settled. Unfortunately, he took to gambling and lost everything. Having been discovered cheating at cards he was dismissed from your army. Then his wife died, and his house was sold up to pay his debts. He took the child and escaped to the Continent. But his love of gambling still clung to him. He took up his quarters in a cheap boarding-house in Monaco, and haunted the tables. The child Hilda, blind and helpless, was left to a careless nurse. I was hard up myself then, doctor, and also lived in that boarding-house. I saw Hilda, and my heart melted. She was a dear little child, and became fond of me, so that, in time, I came to look upon her as my own daughter."
"You are a good fellow, Schwartz."
"Ach, no, my friend, I am as bad as most people. But I never married, I was a lonely man with much sentiment and emotion. Hilda loved me, she warmed my heart. I saw that she was neglected by her father, and I determined to look after her, poor dear, to make her happy."
"I think you have succeeded."
"I think so too. Yet she loves her father better than me. He was never kind to her, save in a careless way. It is always so. Hilda thinks Garret the best of men, and I have not the heart to tell her how worthless he is. Believe me, my friend, I was never blind to Garret's badness. What I did for him, I did for the little Hilda's sake. Garret met me at the boarding-house and told me his history. I offered to give him money if he would let me adopt Hilda, but seeing that my heart was touched he cunningly refused. I could not part with the child, so I had to take the burden of Garret's life on my shoulders. I said that I would help him and look after him if he was kind to little Hilda. He consented, and we have been together ever since."
"Did Garret ever make any money?"
"No, he was always idle and wasted everything. Sometimes he won money and spent it on himself; but I had to keep both him and Hilda. It was for her sake that I did so, for otherwise Garret would have taken her away from me; and that," added Schwartz, with emotion, "would have broken my heart."
"Why did you not tell Hilda all this?"
"Why should I have done so?" replied the good German, with great simplicity. "It would have broken the child's heart. It would spoil her life did I tell her now. Poor Hilda! She has enough to bear without my making her wretched. It is my wish that she should be happy. She is the dearest thing on earth to me. Without that lovely child I should die."
"I am glad you have some comfort and reward," said Ellis, touched by this speech. "So Garret, through Hilda, has lived on your money all these years?"
"Yes. Oh, I was quite willing so long as he left me the child. I need not tell you all the troubles I have had these many years, doctor. I made money, I lost money. I was poor one year, rich another; but all through my fortunes Hilda has been with me--Garret also. Three years ago I came to London, and after several failures I started the Merryman Music-Hall. It has been a success, and now I am rich. I have settled much money on Hilda, also this cottage. Even if I die she will be well off."
"If you died, her father would return and rob her."
"I often dreaded that, but now my fears are at rest. While this confession remains with you, doctor, I am not afraid. Garret admits that he is a murderer, so for his own sake he will never return to England. Now I have told you all I know about Garret, which brings us up to the time of the murder. The rest you can read in those papers."
"I shall do so later," replied Ellis, glancing at the confession, and putting it into his pocket. "But you might tell me the story in your own way. What was the reason of the tragedy?"
"The forged bill you spoke of the other night."
"Who forged the bill?"
"Garret. I refused to give him any more money as he was squandering all I had. He was acquainted with young Moxton, and knew how rich the elder Moxton was. Edgar showed Garret a letter from his father, so Garret forged the old man's signature on a bill. He accepted it himself, and managed to get money on it. Of course, he thought that if he were discovered I would buy back the bill at any price, so that he would not be disgraced. He counted on my love for Hilda, you see."
"And how was the forgery discovered?"
"Old Moxton found it out just before he died. He passed the bill on to Busham, as his lawyer, to take steps to arrest Garret. Busham did not do anything at the moment. Then old Moxton died, and that same night Busham brought the bill to Edgar at my music-hall."
"Ah! then in spite of his denial he met Edgar on that night?"
"Garret told me so," replied Schwartz. "I knew very little of Edgar Moxton save that he was a bad man. Busham gave him the bill, for Edgar, on hearing of his father's death, insisted upon having it."
"How did he know that the bill was in existence?"
"Busham told him about it, when Edgar inquired after the estates. He did not care at all about his father's death. He wanted the money; and although he was now rich he still wished for more. Janet Gordon had told him how I looked after Garret on Hilda's account, and he knew, of course, that the music-hall was my property. He then followed Garret into my room where I was, and, showing him the bill, accused him of the forgery. I saw him replace the bill in the red pocket-book and put that in his pocket. Garret also saw in which pocket he placed it."
"What did Moxton want?"
"The music-hall. He had been drinking, and was also intoxicated by the money that had come to him. He said that if I did not give him the music-hall and make it over legally to him, he would have Garret arrested."
"What did you do? How did you answer the scoundrel?" asked Ellis.
"I refused," replied Schwartz, with energy. "I had done much for Garret, but even for Hilda's sake I could not beggar her and myself by giving up my property. Garret insisted that I should save him at any cost, but I said I could do nothing; and Moxton went away swearing that he would have Garret arrested on the morrow."
"And Garret?"
"Finding that I would do nothing he rushed away distracted. What I now tell you he told me afterwards. By accident he took my fur-lined coat and put it on, leaving his own behind. Then he followed Edgar home in the hope of robbing him of the bill while he was drunk. He saw Zirknitz quarrel with Edgar on the Dukesfield platform and kept out of the way. Then he followed Moxton when he left the station."
"Busham followed also?"
"Yes, but he did not let Garret see him. Busham wished to get back the bill himself, as he wanted to keep all power in his own hands. That was why he followed Edgar from the music-hall. On seeing Garret, he wondered what he was after, and watched."
"Oh," said Ellis, "so this was what Busham did? His talk with the policeman and pursuit of Mrs. Moxton to Pimlico was all lies."
"I don't know about those things, doctor. Garret followed Edgar to the gate of Myrtle Villa, when he saw the door open, and Mrs. Moxton rush out with a carving-knife. Moxton began to struggle with her at the gate. She held the knife over him--I don't know why."
"She did not wish to hurt him. Go on."
"Garret saw the knife flash in the moonlight, so he ran along, and seizing it, stabbed Moxton in the back. He fell with a cry and Mrs. Moxton under him. Garret ran away, but returned to find Edgar dead, and Mrs. Moxton in a faint."
"That must have been the time when Edgar wrote the blood-signs."
"Yes, no doubt. Well, Garret searched for the pocket-book and found it. He threw the knife beside the corpse, thinking it would be said that Mrs. Moxton had killed her husband. Then, hearing footsteps approaching, he went away quickly."
"That must have been Miss Gordon. She returned for her purse, and on finding what had happened, remained to shield her sister. Brave woman!"
"Ach! my friend, that is so. Janet is both brave and good. But to continue, Garret went into a quiet part of Dukesfield and took the bill out of the pocket-book. As he was burning it--for he destroyed it at once by setting light to it with a match--Busham came up and accused him of the murder."
"Did Busham see it committed?"
"He did. He followed Garret, and, hidden in the shade, saw him stab Moxton. But he promised to hold his tongue about it, provided he got Moxton's money. Garret was relieved by this promise, and putting the pocket-book into the pocket of my coat, which he wore, he returned to Goethe Cottage."
"To confess his crime?"
"No, he said nothing; and even though I heard of Edgar's death, I did not think that Garrett had killed him. But when I put on my coat one evening I found the pocket-book, and recognised it as Edgar's. I then accused Garret of the murder, and he told me all I have told you. I held my tongue, for Hilda's sake, and as Busham was hoping to get the money by accusing Mrs. Moxton of the crime, he was silent too. I placed the pocket-book in my desk, where Janet found it. I should have destroyed it, but I thought no one would open my desk. Hilda, by her folly, has ruined her father, but I shall not make her heart ache by telling her so."
"What did you say to Garret?"
"I told him that you had the pocket-book, and accused me of the crime. I refused to suffer for his sake, and made him write out the confession, which is witnessed by myself and two servants. But they do not know the contents. I threatened to hand Garret over to the police if he did not tell the truth, as I wished to save myself and Hilda. Then I gave him some money, and told him to go away and never let me see him again. He wanted to take Hilda, but I gave him the choice of leaving her with me, or suffering for his crime. In the end, he went away last night, and so that is all I can tell you."
"I think you are well rid of a bad lot, Herr Schwartz."
"I think so too," replied the German. "I never liked him; but for the sake of Hilda I tolerated him. I will not tell her the truth; but as Garret is away, and will remain away, I have no doubt I can explain sufficient to reconcile her to his absence. So I have my Hilda to myself at last, doctor, and thank God for that."