"A deed's to be done. There is sin in the doing.Oh, see how the mother her child is pursuing!She smites him unknowing. Oh, mother, blind mother,Thy son thou hast slain--not the son of another!The deed thou hast done bodes a life-time of rueing;Thy son thou hast slaughtered, as Cain did his brother!"
"A deed's to be done. There is sin in the doing.Oh, see how the mother her child is pursuing!She smites him unknowing. Oh, mother, blind mother,Thy son thou hast slain--not the son of another!The deed thou hast done bodes a life-time of rueing;Thy son thou hast slaughtered, as Cain did his brother!"
It was on Friday morning that Mrs. Belk had her fatal interview with Maxwell--fatal indeed to her son, to benefit whom that same interview had been sought for. Had she not been of such a secretive disposition she would have told Samson of the finding of the jewel and how she intended to obtain money thereon as a clue to the assassin of Sir Rupert, in which case he would doubtless have prevented her doing so.
Anxious, however, to surprise Samson with a piece of good news, she had refrained from taking him into her confidence, and thus inadvertently placed him in a situation of extreme peril. Ignorant of this, however, she left Maxwell with the fifty pounds in her purse and joy in her heart, thinking she could now give her son a chance of making money by his physical strength. Determined to see for herself what rivals he would have in the event of his entering the arena as "a strong man," on Friday night she went to Totahoop's Music Hall, where "The New Milo" was exhibiting his world renowned feats of strength. After witnessing his performance, she was satisfied that her son had nothing to fear in the way of comparison, and on Saturday night went to a rival variety entertainment to see "The Modern Hercules." This gentleman, in Mrs. Belk's opinion proved equally disappointing; so the next day, which was Sunday, she departed for Deswarth with the full conviction that her son, aided by the fifty pounds obtained from Maxwell, would only have to appear before a London audience to easily distance both the Milo and the Hercules.
She went down by the morning train, but on arriving at her cottage found that Samson had gone to a town some distance away on an errand for Sir Thomas, his new master, and would not be back again until the afternoon. Under these circumstances she was forced to curb her impatience and wait some hours before she could reveal the good news to her son.
Meanwhile, as fate was thus delaying the warning to Samson which such a revelation would have brought about, Archie Maxwell, accompanied by Mrs. Belswin and her Italian friend, had arrived at The Chequers, from whence they intended to go to Belk's cottage and demand an explanation from him as to the discovery of the scarf-pin on the terrace at Thornstream. Confronted with the landlord of The Chequers, Signor Ferrari had no difficulty in proving to Maxwell that he was in the house at ten o'clock on that fatal night, and as the doctor at the inquest had asserted that Sir Rupert had been shot shortly before eleven, Maxwell was forced to believe by this circumstantial evidence that Ferrari was innocent of the crime. Mrs. Belswin had also recalled to the young man's mind her evidence at the inquest, so he could not possibly suspect her in any way, therefore to all appearances Belk was the only person to whom suspicion pointed in any strong degree. This being the case, after the interview with the landlord of The Chequers, Mr. Maxwell and his two friends set off to Belk's cottage, where Mrs. Belk was now impatiently awaiting the arrival of her son.
It seemed to Mrs. Belswin, superstitious as she was in the highest degree, that Fortune was dead against her in every way. Firstly, she had been beaten on every point by Silas Oates; secondly, it was only by the merest chance that she had been able to conceal her identity from Maxwell, in the matter of his accusation against Ferrari, and now she was afraid of Samson Belk. Afraid, because the finding of the scarf-pin proved conclusively that he was on the terrace on that night, in which case he might have overheard her interview with Sir Rupert. If this was the case, in order to save himself he would certainly tell Archie all he knew, and she would be lost. There was no time to see and warn him as she had done Ferrari, so she walked on to the cottage with a set smile on her face and a deadly fear in her heart.
On their arrival, Mrs. Belk opened the door, and was very much surprised at such an invasion. However, she said nothing, but, standing in her doorway, waited for an explanation of their visit.
"Is your son at home, Mrs. Belk," asked Maxwell, abruptly.
"No, sir," replied Mrs. Belk, dropping a curtsey, "but I'm expecting him every minute."
"Oh, in that case we'll wait."
"Yes, sir, certainly!"
Mrs. Belk moved unwillingly on one side, as she was in a state of considerable mystification as to the reason of Mr. Maxwell's unexpected arrival; and they all entered the cottage. The little woman gave them seats, and then stood waiting to hear what they had to say. Maxwell's business, however, was with Samson Belk, and not with his mother, so he preserved a masterly silence, in order to give her no opportunity of finding out his errand, and perhaps, by a look, putting her son on his guard.
"I hope nothing is wrong about the money, sir," said Mrs. Belk, after a long pause.
"No! that is all right."
"Have you found out anything, sir?"
"You mean about the scarf-pin?" said Maxwell, evasively.
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Maxwell has found out the owner of it," interposed Mrs. Belswin, coldly.
"I am the owner," said Ferrari, complacently.
"You?" cried Mrs. Belk, with a sudden flush on her face; "you, sir?"
"Even I, signora!"
Mrs. Belk felt quite taken back. She was quite sure that the owner of the scarf-pin had killed Sir Rupert, yet, here he was, calmly acknowledging that it belonged to him, which he certainly would not do if he were guilty. The little woman looked from Ferrari to Maxwell, from Maxwell to Mrs. Belswin; and saw in their eyes the same expression---a look of pity. A sudden thrill of fear shot through her heart, and she turned towards Maxwell with a cry of alarm.
"Sir! Sir!" she stammered, nervously, "what does this mean?--why do you come here?"
"We want to see your son, Mrs. Belk."
"My son, sir? Is anything wrong? Oh, tell me, sir, Samson has been doing nothing wrong?"
None of the three persons present answered her, so filled were their hearts with pity for her coming agony.
"Is it anything to do with the diamond, sir?"
"Yes."
"Oh!" cried Mrs. Belk, with an expression of relief on her face, "perhaps you think my son stole it?"
"Your son," said Mrs. Belswin, quickly. "Did he have that scarf-pin in his possession?"
Mrs. Belk faced round fiercely.
"No ma'am; he knows nothing about it."
"Ebbene," murmured the Italian; "we shall see."
"What do you say, sir?"
"I say," replied Ferrari, coolly, "that the scarf-pin was mine, and I gave it to--to--your son."
"To my son," shrieked Mrs. Belk, her pale face growing yet paler; "but I found the diamond on the terrace."
"Per Bacco! Who loses finds."
Mrs. Belk kept silent for a moment, overwhelmed by the thought of the perilous position in which she had placed her son, for in a single instant she saw all; then, staggering against the wall, she gave a cry which was scarcely human in its agony.
Scarcely had it died away, when hurried footsteps were heard, and the door was dashed open to admit Samson Belk, with a look of astonishment on his face.
"Mother! what is the matter? Mrs. Belswin?"
"Yes!" said Mrs. Belswin, advancing a step, "we have come----"
The mother saw the movement, and with a shriek of jealous rage, darted between them, and flung herself into her son's arms.
"Yes, my son, yes!" she cried, convulsively; "they have come to kill you! to hang you!"
"Mother!"
"They say you killed the master."
"It's a lie!"
Samson Belk placed his mother in a chair, where she sat in a half-fainting condition, and turned fiercely towards the two men, like a lion at bay.
"Now then," he said--his habitually slow voice, sharp and quick--"what's all this?"
Maxwell held out his hand, and in the palm of it lay the diamond scarf-pin.
"Do you know this?" he demanded, slowly.
Belk gave a mighty laugh of scorn.
"Know it? Yes, I know it. 'Tis the diamond I got from yonder chap."
"You acknowledge that he gave it to you, then?"
"Of course! Why shouldn't I?"
"Because I found it on the terrace, Samson," cried his mother, madly.
"Well, what of that; I lost it there, mother!"
"When did you lose it?" asked Maxwell, quickly.
Belk thought a moment, and then started as the full meaning of this interrogation flashed across his dull brain.
"Eh! then you chaps say I killed Sir Rupert."
"We do not say so," said Maxwell, emphatically; "we only say that this diamond scarf-pin, which you acknowledge to have had in your possession, was found near the window where the body was lying."
"And that pin hangs me, sir?"
"Not if you can account satisfactorily for its being there."
"You ain't got the police, sir."
"No!"
"Samson! Samson!" wailed his mother, clinging to him, "say it was not you killed the master!"
"Quiet, mother!" said her son, replacing her in the chair, "I can tell my own story."
"You are innocent?" asked Mrs. Belswin, impulsively.
"Innocent!" repeated Belk, with scorn, "if I wasn't I'd have been off to the States by this time. Sit down, gentlemen: sit down, madam, I can tell you the truth."
All resumed their seats mechanically; but Belk leaned his mighty frame against the wall and looked at them quietly. From Ferrari his eyes wandered to Maxwell, and finally rested on Mrs. Belswin with a curious expression, at which she turned pale.
"My God!" she murmured, clasping her hands tightly, "what is he going to say?"
Belk guessed her thoughts, and reassured her at once.
"My story's only about myself," he said, abruptly looking at her again, upon which she thanked him with a silent look of gratitude, although she felt a thrill of fear at the thought that perhaps he knew her secret.
"One word before you speak," said Maxwell, quietly. "As you know, I am going to marry Miss Pethram, and I promised her to find out the assassin of her father. Chance, in the person of your mother, placed in my hands a clue which led me to believe that Signor Ferrari had something to do with the crime----"
"Cospetto! what honour."
"Signor Ferrari, however," resumed Archie, quietly, "has proved his innocence, and in order to do so has unintentionally made out a very strong case against you, Mr. Belk. Whether you are guilty or not I do not know; but, you see, I have not informed the police about anything connected with the matter."
"And why, sir?"
"Because the clue was placed in my hands by your mother, and I would not have it on my conscience, however guilty you may be, to take advantage of the innocent betrayal of a son by his mother."
Mrs. Belk sobbed violently at this, and Belk, with a sudden flush, held out his hand, but drew it back at once.
"No, sir," he said, bluffly, "I won't give you my hand yet, till you've heard my story. I did get that diamond from the foreign gent as he says. He was trespassing, and I could have made things hot for him, but to get off he gave me the diamond."
"Do you think that was right, seeing Signor Ferrari is a foreigner and ignorant of English laws?" asked Maxwell.
"I don't say it was right, sir," replied Belk with a queer look; "and it was not altogether the trespass. There was something else I need not tell you of that made me take his diamond."
Mrs. Belswin darted a sudden look on both men, who were eyeing her jealously, and flushed a deep red; but Maxwell was so interested in Belk's story that he did not notice her perturbation, and signed to him to continue.
"Well, sir, I stuck the pin in my scarf careless like, as I was in a hurry to go up to the Hall to see Sir Rupert."
"What hour was this."
"About four o'clock, sir. I went up to the Hall, and Sir Rupert, sir, he was in his study; so instead of going in by the door, I went in by the window."
"So you first went along the terrace?"
"Yes, sir! And as the pin was stuck in careless, I suppose it fell as I went into the room by the window."
"Not impossible!" said Maxwell, thoughtfully.
"I saw Sir Rupert, took my orders, and then came home, sir, and didn't go out again that night."
"Eh!" cried Mrs. Belk, starting up, "no more you did, lad; I can swear to that."
"And so can Mr. Gelthrip, the parson, sir," said Belk, triumphantly. "He called here in the evening, and I saw him. So you see, sir, as I didn't go near the Hall until the next morning, I didn't have nought to do with the killing."
"No; certainly not."
Maxwell heaved a sigh of relief at the turn things had taken, for if both Mrs. Belk and the curate could prove that Samson had been at home on that fatal night, the young man certainly could not be guilty. Meanwhile, he wanted to get away and think the matter over; for what with the story of Ferrari and the story of Belk, he was quite bewildered.
"So my Samson is innocent," cried Mrs. Belk, triumphantly.
"Yes, and I'm glad to hear it," replied Maxwell, as he went out. "Good-bye, Mrs. Belk, I'm pleased on your account, but sorry on my own."
"Ebbene! but who killed Il----I am talking of Seer Rupert," cried Ferrari, putting on his hat.
Belk shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he replied, nonchalantly; "the master had lots of enemies, I reckon."
"Belk," cried Maxwell, overhearing this, "come to The Chequers to-night, I want to speak to you."
"Very well, sir."
"You are not coming up to town with us then, Mr. Maxwell?" said Mrs. Belswin, who was lingering behind.
"No! I wish to ask Belk some questions about Sir Rupert's enemies. From what he says, it appears he had some, and Belk knows them."
Maxwell and Ferrari both went down to the gate, and Mrs. Belswin was left alone with Samson, the mother still being in the house.
"Don't go," she said, in a low tone.
"Oh, yes, I'll go," he replied in the same tone, "I tell nothing."
"What?" she said, uneasily; "do you know anything?"
Belk looked at her with his languid eyes, and stroked his golden beard slowly.
"I know what I know," he replied emphatically, and with this reply, which roused all her suspicions, Mrs. Belswin was forced to be content.
'Neath the shining southern cross,News of gain and news of loss,Silver veining hidden rocksChanges hourly shares and stocks:By the magic power of shares,Paupers turn to millionaires--Millionaires to paupers change;Transformation swift and strange.Genii, no, nor fairy kingsCould not do such wond'rous thingsAs are daily done by scores,On Australia's golden shores.
'Neath the shining southern cross,News of gain and news of loss,Silver veining hidden rocksChanges hourly shares and stocks:By the magic power of shares,Paupers turn to millionaires--Millionaires to paupers change;Transformation swift and strange.Genii, no, nor fairy kingsCould not do such wond'rous thingsAs are daily done by scores,On Australia's golden shores.
What passed between Maxwell and Samson Belk at their interview, Mrs. Belswin could never discover; but as Archie did not in any way change his manner towards her she was satisfied that her name had not transpired during the conversation, or if it had, Belk had said nothing detrimental to her in any way. As to Belk himself, she saw him when he came up to London, but he refused to tell her whether he had overheard the conversation between herself and Sir Rupert, and she was therefore forced to remain in a constant state of uneasiness. Although Belk denied that he had been out of the house after his return from the four o'clock interview, and supported this assertion by the evidence of his mother and the curate, yet Mrs. Belswin had a kind of half suspicion that he had been on the terrace on the night in question, and had heard more than he was willing to confess. But, then, she argued to herself that, if this were the case, he would certainly use his power over her to force her into marriage with him, whereas he did nothing of the sort, but behaved as if he knew absolutely nothing.
It was now three months since the famous interview at the Belk cottage, and Samson had carried out the plan proposed by his mother. He had appeared at a first-class music hall as the "Nineteenth Century Samson," and, by his superior strength, had easily distanced his rivals, both "The New Milo" and "The Modern Hercules." They, of course, were furious at being eclipsed, but his mother was delighted with his success; the music hall manager was charmed at the crowds drawn by his new star, and perhaps the only person not thoroughly happy was the star himself. The reason of this discontent was, that in order to preserve his strength, he had to lead a very abstemious life, both as regards food and drink, so that, although he was making a large income, he was not enjoying it. Despite his discontent, however, he still led his life of an ascetic, and saved all his money, which was a marked contrast to his former extravagant ways; but then, he had a purpose in economising, and the purpose was Mrs. Belswin, whom he had made up his mind to marry, as soon as he was rich enough.
In the meantime, that lady was leading a sufficiently comfortable life, as, when she ran short of money, she always drew on Dombrain, who did not dare to refuse it to her. Kaituna still lived with her, and, as some time had elapsed since the death of her father, she had recovered nearly all her former vivacity, and was looking anxiously forward to her marriage with Archie--a marriage which was soon to take place, owing to the good news from Australia about the Pole Star Silver Mine.
Toby Clendon had duly arrived in the land of the Southern Cross, and had sent home brilliantly written letters of his travels, which satisfied the editor, and delighted the readers ofThe Weekly Scorpion, In addition to this excellent literary work, which, by the way, was giving him a name in journalistic circles, he had made inquiries about the Pole Star Mine, and although the information he obtained was disheartening enough at first, yet, after a time the Pole Star silver shares began to be inquired about, and in a few weeks were actually worth money.
Archie, who had benefited by his mining experiences in the colony, and, moreover, had made friends with an enterprising share broker, who was, as they say "in the know," sent to Kaituna for the scrip lying in the hands of Dombrain. After some difficulty, Archie, who acted as her agent, obtained it from the unwilling Dombrain, and sent all the scrip, to the value of two thousand shares, out to Toby, with a power of attorney authorising him to deal with them as he judged best.
Acting by the advice of his stockbroker, Toby judged it best to hold the scrip, as the shares were on the rise, and in a few days his confidence in the mine was justified. A lode was discovered in the Pole Star ground, which was said to rival the celebrated Comstock lode in California, which sent all 'Frisco mad in the old days, and the shares began to rise rapidly, so rapidly indeed, that Toby was justified in thinking that Kaituna would be a great heiress after all. They went from nothing up to twenty pounds a share; again by slow gradations they rose to fifty pounds each, and Toby wanted to sell, but his stockbroker still advised him to hold. In a month they were worth one hundred pounds each, and Toby still held on. The excitement in Melbourne was intense, and other silver mining companies began to spring round the famous Pole Star, in several of which Toby invested the salary he drew fromThe Weekly Scorpion. The surrounding mines were very fluctuating in the share market, but the Pole Star itself never faltered for a moment in its upward career, and at the end of three months, Toby wired to Maxwell that the shares were now worth the enormous value of two hundred pounds each.
Maxwell, in a state of great excitement, consulted Mrs. Belswin and Kaituna, and they, considering that a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush, decided to sell at that price. Instructions were wired out to Clendon to realise without delay, which he did carefully by selling the shares in parcels, as two thousand thrown on the market, for no apparent cause, would have caused a drop in the price. The selling took some time; but at the end of a month or so the whole two thousand were disposed of, and the amount standing to the credit of Miss Kaituna Pethram in The Bank of Australia was somewhere about four hundred thousand pounds, which was certainly a very respectable fortune for a girl formerly penniless.
Kaituna herself was wild with joy, and wanted to marry Maxwell at once; but, strange to say, he that had urged on the marriage when she was poor, now held back, lest it should be said he was marrying her for her money. Mrs. Belswin, however, promptly settled all that, and talked him over into getting married at once. Then a letter was received from Toby, saying that he also had been successful in mining speculations to the amount of some thousands, and was on his way home to Miss Valpy and matrimony.
Ultimately the two girls decided that they would be married in the same way, and Archie felt deeply grateful that things had turned out so well; while Mrs. Belswin, confident now that Kaituna's happiness was secured, both as regards income and marriage, looked upon her life's work as over.
Of course she had to reckon with Ferrari who still urged her to marry him; and as she had told Archie that she was engaged to the Italian, she did not very well see how she was going to escape this match, which was decidedly repugnant to her, as it separated her from her child, and gave her to a man for whom she cared nothing. Belk also hinted that his intentions were matrimonial as soon as he had amassed sufficient money; so Mrs. Belswin lamented the good looks which had placed her between two matrimonial fires. While she was in this unpleasant situation, Fate, in the person of Mr. Dombrain, intervened and decided the question in a highly unpleasant manner.
After his failure to convict Ferrari and Belk of the crime of murder, Archie had quite given up the idea of finding out the assassin; and Kaituna began to think that he would never be discovered. She proposed to Archie when they were married, to devote their newly gained wealth to seeking out the cowardly assassin; but Maxwell, who had grave doubts about Mrs. Belswin, Ferrari, and Belk, endeavoured to dissuade her. It will be said that if Maxwell had doubts like this, why did he permit Kaituna to remain with the companion? But the fact is, all his doubts were very undecided. He could not accuse Mrs. Belswin, as he had no evidence to go on, so he was forced to remain quiet and let things take their course.
In the acquirement of the money through the Pole Star Mine, in thinking of the double marriage soon to take place, the death of Sir Rupert was beginning to be almost forgotten, when suddenly it was brought to the minds of all interested by a terrible event.
Mrs. Belswin was arrested on a charge of having committed the murder.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth--That, as I take it, is Bible-truth.You have robbed me of my good name;I will bring you to want and shame.Both are wicked, so both shall fall--God in His Heaven shall judge of it all.
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth--That, as I take it, is Bible-truth.You have robbed me of my good name;I will bring you to want and shame.Both are wicked, so both shall fall--God in His Heaven shall judge of it all.
Mrs. Belswin brought it all on herself. She would play with fire, and although a life-long experience had taught her how dangerous was that pastime, she nevertheless indulged in it, even at the risk of burning her fingers. Indeed, so many times had she rushed into danger in her fierce, impulsive way, and so many times had she emerged scatheless by sheer good luck, that she became reckless in her daring, and at last the inevitable happened--she went too far.
Everything was now progressing smoothly, both with herself and with those she loved. Kaituna had received an unexpected access of fortune, so that the difficulties of her marriage with Archie Maxwell were now removed by the power of gold; and Mrs. Belswin herself, living constantly with her darling, had now nothing left to wish for.
Yes! there was one thing she desired, and that was to see Silas Oates, in order to taunt him with the news of her good fortune. It was sheer devilry made her do this, as she cared nothing for her old lover; but some fiend having whispered in her ear that good fortune to her would be gall and wormwood to the American, she one day went straight to the Langham Hotel, in order to enjoy her triumph. Luckily for himself, Oates was absent in Paris at the time, where he had gone on a matter of business; but on his return he found Mrs. Belswin's card, and naturally enough being ignorant of her real object in paying him a visit, thought she had called for the sole purpose of getting more money out of him.
Silas Oates, in a most unjust fashion, did not blame his quondam lady-love for her persistency, knowing her real nature too well to expect anything from her; but he blamed Mr. Dombrain for not keeping his promise, and making Mrs. Belswin stop her pecuniary importunities.
The lady herself had entirely forgotten Mr. Dombrain and his threats, or if she did remember them it was with a contemptuous sneer, as she thought in her own heart that he could do nothing to harm her. But if Mrs. Belswin thus proved forgetful of the solicitor, Silas Oates did not. Mr. Oates was genuinely angry at the way Dombrain permitted Mrs. Belswin to annoy him, so, as the unfortunate lawyer had omitted to fulfil his promise of acting as watch-dog, the American determined to punish him as he had threatened for his negligence.
Silas went about the affair in a way peculiarly his own, and in a very few days Mr. Dombrain received a letter demanding an explanation of certain allegations concerning his past made against him by an American gentleman. The unfortunate man was quite stunned at the suddenness of his calamity; nor was he comforted when a spiteful note arrived from Silas, which stated that he had revealed everything about the convict Damberton to the Law Society, as a punishment for the negligence of the lawyer Dombrain. Of course the poor wretch could not defend himself, although he made a feeble attempt to do so; and the consequence of Mrs. Belswin's folly and Mr. Oates's letter was, that Alfred Dombrain of London, Solicitor, was struck off the rolls, as not fit to have his name inscribed thereon.
It was truly a terrible thing to happen to this man, who, not having saved much money, now found himself reduced from an honourable profession, which gained him a competence, to a disgraceful position and absolute beggary. The loss of his money troubled him but little, the loss of his name a great deal, for having once more regained the esteem of his fellow-men by years of exemplary life, he felt keenly the bitterness of being reduced to the same ignoble position he had occupied years before. He tried every means in his power to escape the disgrace, but the Law Society were relentless, and Dombrain, lawyer, once more became that phantom of the past--Damberton, outcast.
Neither lawyer nor outcast, however, were satisfied to accept this crushing blow without making some return thereto; and when Mr. Dombrain found that all his ideas of respectability were at an end, he turned round venomously to punish Mrs. Belswin, whom he considered to be the main cause of his unmerited disgrace. He did not write to her, he did not see her, he did not even mention her name to a soul, but he went straight to the nearest police magistrate, told his story of what had taken place at Thornstream on that fatal night, and, as a result, obtained a warrant of arrest against Mrs. Belswin for the murder of Sir Rupert Pethram. This being done, he departed, in company with two detectives, to feast his eyes on the disgrace of this woman, who had cost him his hardly earned position; and for the first time for many days he laughed--not a pleasant laugh, but a nasty, sardonic, sneering laugh, which boded ill to the liberty and peace of mind of Jezebel Manners, alias Lady Pethram, alias Mrs. Belswin. In spite of the tragic force of the whole matter, there was something positively grotesque in the situation; for Silas Oates wronged by Mrs. Belswin, had revenged himself upon Mr. Dombrain; and Mr. Dombrain wronged by Silas Oates, had revenged himself upon Mrs. Belswin. It was a three-cornered duel, to speak paradoxically, in which every one shot at every one else, but the only person of the three principals who came off scot-free was the American, and he appreciated the grim irony of the situation.
Meanwhile Mrs. Belswin, quite unaware how dearly her attempt to see Oates had cost her, was seated in company with Kaituna and Archie Maxwell at afternoon tea, and the trio were talking about the Pole Star shares, the expected arrival of Toby Clendon, and, of course, about the approaching marriages.
"And you will be perfectly happy, Kaituna," said Mrs. Belswin, looking wistfully at her daughter--the daughter whom she dare not acknowledge.
Kaituna caught hold of Archie's hand, with a quick flush and a look of delight in her large black eyes.
"Yes, perfectly happy," she replied, smiling. "We are going to be the Darby and Joan of romance, are we not, Archie?"
"I trust so, dear; but Darby and Joan! Oh, what a prosaic comparison. No! Kaituna we will be--let me think--we will be like Lord Lovel and Lady Nancy Bell in the old ballad."
"Fie, that is a worse comparison than mine! They were unhappy, and if a red rose and a briar did grow out of their respective graves, I don't know that such a miracle proves your case."
"Well, you certainly ought to be happy," said Mrs. Belswin, with a quick sigh, as she realised how soon she was to lose the girl she loved. "Health, wealth, and love--what a trinity of perfections."
"All of which are to be found in Kaituna. But you, Mrs. Belswin, what about Signor Ferrari?"
"Oh, I have not made up my mind yet to marry him, Mr. Maxwell; besides, I have another offer."
"Another offer?" cried Kaituna, gaily. "Oh, fortunate woman; and from whom?"
"Mr. Samson Belk."
"Oh!" said Maxwell, smiling, "he is the other Romeo in the field. Well, he is certainly very handsome----"
"And is very fond of me," interrupted Mrs. Belswin, quickly. "But all the same I am not for him."
"Nor for Signor Ferrari either?" laughed Kaituna, going over to her chaperon and putting her arms round her neck. "Ah, there is a third person."
"I think you can pretty well guess whom that third person is," said Mrs. Belswin, kissing the girl; "but Mr. Maxwell is going to rob me of my third person."
"I cannot deny the soft impeachment," replied Archie, with a gay nod. "As soon as Toby comes home we will be married."
The talk was certainly frivolous; but then, after all the trials these three people had undergone, it was a great relief to chatter idly in a desultory manner, especially when all three beheld the brightness of the future. For them the storms and trials of life had passed--so they fondly thought; and the elder woman, looking back at the dismal past, thanked God in her heart for the peaceful present, while the lovers saw before them nothing but a shining path, strewn with roses, leading to the paradise of perfect felicity.
At this moment a knock came at the door, and the servant entered with a frightened look on her face.
"Oh, mum," she said, going quickly to Mrs. Belswin, "there are three gentleman to see you."
"Who are they?" asked Mrs. Belswin, in some surprise, never thinking for a moment of the coming storm.
"Mr. Dombrain, mum, and----"
"Mr. Dombrain," repeated Mrs. Belswin, with a chill of fear at her heart; "what does he want?"
"I want you, Jezebel Manners," said Dombrain, making his appearance at the door, with a malignant grin on his coarse red face.
The moment she heard the name Mrs. Belswin knew it was all over, and with a cry of agony held out her imploring hands to the lawyer.
"Oh, not before her! not before her!" she moaned piteously.
Kaituna, overcome with astonishment at this strange scene, went up to Mrs. Belswin as if to protect her, but the woman shrank from her with a moan of pain, and hid her face in her hands.
"What does this mean?" demanded Maxwell, as soon as he recovered his breath.
"You will soon know," retorted Dombrain, savagely. "Jezebel Manners, Pethram, Belswin, or whatever name you like to call yourself, I warned you the last time we met what I would do if you played me false. You have done so, to my ruin, my shame, my disgrace, and I have come to drag you down to where you have hurled me. This is the woman, officers."
One of the detectives advanced and touched Mrs. Belswin on the shoulder.
"In the Queen's name, I arrest you----"
"Arrest her?" interrupted Kaituna, her face flaming with indignation; "but for what--for what?"
"For the murder of Rupert Pethram."
Kaituna gave a shriek of horror, and seized Maxwell by the arm, while he, scarcely less thunderstruck, stared at the detective with a look of amazement on his face.
"It is false! it is false!" shrieked Mrs. Belswin, throwing herself on her knees before Kaituna, "I swear to you it is false. I did not kill your father."
"You did," said Dombrain, in a deep voice, "I saw you do it!"
"Liar!"
Mrs. Belswin sprang to her feet and made a bound forward, with a fierce light flashing in her eyes, and it would have been a bad thing for Mr. Dombrain had she succeeded in reaching him. The detective, however, was on the watch, and throwing himself on the wretched woman, had the handcuffs on her wrists in a moment.
"I cannot believe it! I cannot believe it!" moaned Kaituna, hiding her face on Maxwell's breast.--"Mrs. Belswin, my kind good friend----"
"Your friend," scoffed Dombrain, with an ugly glitter in his ferret-like eyes. "Yes, you don't know who your friend is!"
"For God's sake, silence!" shrieked Mrs. Belswin, pale to the lips.
"No, I will not keep silence, you fiend, who have ruined me. I will tell all. Miss Pethram, do you see that wretched woman with the handcuffs on--that guilty wretch who murdered your father, that----"
"I see Mrs. Belswin," cried Kaituna, with sudden fire; "I see the woman who saved me from starvation, and I do not believe this base charge you make."
With noble indignation she walked across to Mrs. Belswin, and threw her arm round the poor woman's neck, while Archie, who respected and liked the companion, mutely approved of the girl's generous action.
"Ah, you put your arm on her neck now," said Dombrain, with a sneer, "but you will take it away when you know----"
"Dombrain!" cried the wretched woman, for the last time, "spare me--spare me!"
"I will spare you as you have spared me."
"Be silent, with your cowardly threats, sir," said Kaituna, looking proudly at him, "and do your worst. Who is Mrs. Belswin?"
"Your mother!"
Kaituna gave a cry, and recoiled from her companion.
"My mother!" she said, hoarsely. "It cannot be! my mother is dead."
Dombrain played his trump card.
"Your mother is alive! She stands there, and you can now know her for what she is--a guilty wife--a divorced woman--and the murderer of her husband."
Kaituna gazed at this gibing devil with a terrified stare in her dilated eyes, then turned slowly and looked at her miserable mother. The unhappy woman, with a grey worn face, haggard and scarred with myriad wrinkles, made a step forward, as if to embrace her child, but the girl, with a look of terror, shrank back, and fell in a faint on the floor at the feet of Maxwell, while Mrs. Belswin sank on her knees with a piteous cry, wringing her manacled hands over the unconscious form of the daughter she had found--and lost.
Who's sure of Life's game,When Fate interferes?For praise or for blame,Who's sure of life's game?A sentence--a name,Turns joy into tears,Who's sure of Life's game,When Fate interferes?
Who's sure of Life's game,
When Fate interferes?
For praise or for blame,
Who's sure of life's game?
A sentence--a name,
Turns joy into tears,
Who's sure of Life's game,
When Fate interferes?
This strange case--particulars of which in some mysterious way got into the daily papers--excited much curiosity in London, and when the preliminary inquiry into the affair took place, the court was crowded to suffocation. The public, of course, learned all about the matter from the newspapers, but how the reporters managed to learn so much was most extraordinary, as they gave an account of Mrs. Belswin's previous life--of her presence, under a false name, in the house of her late husband--of the murder of that husband--and of the wonderful amount of money realised by the sale of the Pole Star shares for the daughter of the murdered man, and the woman accused of the crime. All this, more or less garbled and exaggerated, appeared in the leading morning papers, and the "Pethram Paradox"--so it was called--took a prominent place among the sensations of the day. Maxwell, deeply angered at this publicity, which would make the public judge Mrs. Belswin guilty, before she had a chance of defending herself, made several attempts to find Dombrain, whom he suspected of being the author of this malignant gossip in order to damage the chance of the unfortunate woman during her trial, but Mr. Dombrain, suspecting that he would be looked for, made himself scarce, and until the day of the preliminary inquiry, nothing was seen or heard of him by those on the side of Mrs. Belswin.
Kaituna, noble-hearted girl as she was, persistently refused to believe her mother guilty; and, through Maxwell engaged the most prominent legal talent of the day for her defence; but although she sought an interview with Mrs. Belswin in jail, the unhappy woman persistently refused to see her until she was publicly proved innocent of the terrible crime laid to her charge. At this trying time Archie Maxwell proved himself worthy of the high opinion entertained of him by Kaituna, and acting as Mrs. Belswin's friend did everything in his power to assist her during the coming ordeal. Signor Ferrari too, mad with impulsive Italian wrath at the accusation made by Mr. Dombrain, offered himself as a witness; but on discovering that his evidence would be detrimental to Mrs. Belswin's defence, the lawyer declined to take advantage of his offer. As for Belk, whom Maxwell thought would be one of the first to come forward and help the unhappy woman he professed to love, he kept persistently out of the way, and neither by word nor deed showed that he took the least interest in her fate. When the day of the preliminary inquiry therefore came, Mrs. Belswin was left with only three friends who believed in her innocence--Kaituna, Maxwell, and Ferrari, who were all present in court when she was placed in the prisoner's dock.
She looked terribly pale and haggard, for Mrs. Belswin, having one of those natures which are only strong through impulse, was quite unable to bear up against the calamity which had befallen her. All her fierceness, her iron nerve, her reckless daring, which had successfully coped with so many perils, had now deserted her; for this blow, so long dreaded, having descended, she seemed unable to fight against it, and stood silently in the dock, a pale weeping woman, quite unlike the Borgia-like creature of other days. The follower of Mahomet will fight bravely as long as fortune goes with him; but when the tide turns and he believes that it is the will of Allah that evil should befall him, he says Kismet, and bows to the decree of Heaven. Mrs. Belswin behaved in exactly the same way--she had fought bravely against overwhelming odds to keep her daughter and her secret, but now that the worst had come she thought it useless to struggle against destiny, so resigned herself to the inevitable.
The counsel for the prosecution stated that this was one of the most painful cases that had ever come under his notice. It would be remembered that some months previously the public had been horrified to hear of the murder of Sir Rupert Pethram, of Thornstream, Berkshire; who had been shot while standing at the window of his study. In spite of the utmost vigilance of the police the person who had committed this dastardly crime could not be discovered; but now, by the evidence of Mr. Alfred Dombrain, the prisoner was accused of being the guilty person. The chain of circumstances which culminated in the committal of this crime were so extraordinary that he would take leave to inform the court of the whole affair, and the motive for the murder would be clearly proved against the prisoner. It appears that many years ago the deceased baronet--who at that time had not succeeded to the title--had married in New Zealand, where he was then living, the prisoner, Jezebel Manners, who was a half-caste, the daughter of a Maori mother and a European father, a woman of violent and rash temper. One child was born of the marriage, which turned out to be very unhappy; and eventually Mrs. Pethram eloped with an American, called Silas Oates. The late baronet obtained a decree absolute against her, and remained in New Zealand, where he looked after the welfare of his motherless child, while his divorced wife went to San Francisco with the co-respondent Oates. The divorced woman and her lover were together for some time; but he ultimately left her, evidently being quite unable to bear with her outrageous temper. The prisoner then went on the stage, and sang successfully in opera for many years under the name of Madame Tagni. Finally, about eight months previously, she came to England, and found that her husband, by the death of his brother, had succeeded to the title, and was living at Thornstream, in Berkshire, with his daughter Kaituna.
The prisoner, anxious to see her child again concocted a scheme by which to enter the house as a companion to Miss Pethram. Sir Rupert had gone out to New Zealand on business, and, according to his instructions, Mr. Dombrain advertised for a companion for Miss Pethram during his absence. The prisoner applied, and was engaged for the situation by Mr. Dombrain, who was quite in ignorance of her antecedents, and her connection with the late baronet. She took possession of the situation, and while Sir Rupert was absent everything went well. On his arrival, however, he had an interview with the so-called Mrs. Belswin, and, recognising his guilty wife, ordered her out of the house. This interview took place at night, about nine o'clock, in the study at Thornstream; and Mrs. Belswin left the house by the window, vowing vengeance for the course adopted by her husband. Instead, therefore, of going away she lurked outside on the terrace, and when her husband came to the window she shot him with a pistol she had in her possession. Having committed this terrible crime, she had coolly stepped across the body of the man she had murdered, and re-entering the house went to her bedroom. All the household being ignorant alike of her interview with the late baronet and her antecedents, she was never for a moment suspected, except by Mr. Dombrain. That gentleman, hearing the noise of Mrs. Belswin coming upstairs, looked out of the door of his bedroom and saw her pass him. Next morning, when the crime was known, he would have denounced her; but owing to the darkness of the night was unable to be certain of the identity of the woman who crept upstairs. The other day, however, he taxed Mrs. Belswin with the crime; and although she denied it, yet from her agitated manner he felt certain she was the criminal, upon which he at once gave information to the police. Mrs. Belswin was arrested on a warrant, and now stood charged with the murder of her late husband, Sir Rupert Pethram. The first and only witness he would call would be Mr. Alfred Dombrain, upon whose accusation the prisoner had been arrested.
This skilfully worded speech made things look very black against Mrs. Belswin; and when Dombrain stepped into the witness-box to substantiate the terrible statements made by the counsel for the prosecution, there were many who looked upon the prisoner's committal for trial as a foregone conclusion.
Mr. Dombrain, having been duly sworn, stated that he had acted as the legal adviser of the late baronet, and in pursuance of his instructions had engaged the prisoner as a companion for Miss Pethram. He was wholly ignorant of her former life, and that she was the divorced wife of the late Sir Rupert, but as she seemed a suitable person for a chaperon, he had engaged her at once, upon which she went down to Thornstream in order to take up her duties. Upon the arrival of Sir Rupert in England he had gone down to Thornstream in connection with some legal business the late baronet wished to see him about Mrs. Belswin was not at Thornstream on his arrival, as she had gone to London a few days previous about some private matter; but she arrived at Thornstream on the same afternoon as he did. She did not appear at dinner, but on leaving the study after an interview with Sir Rupert he had seen the prisoner enter. As she did not re-appear in the drawing-room, where he was sitting with Miss Pethram, he retired to bed, and he believed Miss Pethram also retired to bed, having a bad headache. Towards eleven o'clock he thought he heard the sound of a shot, but was not certain, although he sprang out of bed and went to the door of his room. It was near the staircase, and as he leaned over the banisters in the darkness, he heard the study door shut with a slight noise, after which Mrs. Belswin came hastily upstairs, and went into her own room. Next morning, when the crime was discovered, she said she had not been out of her room at that hour. He was not quite sure if it was Mrs. Belswin, as the staircase was dark. A week ago she came to his office on business, and he accused her of having committed the murder, which accusation she at first denied, but afterwards half confessed to her guilt. He at once gave information to the police, and she was arrested.
In cross-examination Mr. Dombrain said he had found out all about the prisoner's relations with the deceased from some papers in his possession, and knew Mrs. Belswin was the divorced wife from the description given of her in the handwriting of the deceased.
Counsel for the Accused.--I see that at the inquiry into the death of Sir Rupert you said you had not heard a pistol-shot.
Mr. Dombrain.--I was not certain and sooner than declare I heard, I thought it best to reply in the negative.
Counsel.--Is it not true, Mr. Dombrain, that you have a grudge against the prisoner?
Dombrain.--No, it is not true.
Counsel.--The prisoner declares that she knew you in New Zealand.
Dombrain.--It is a lie. I never was in New Zealand.
Counsel.--Not under the name of Damberton?
Dombrain.--No.
Counsel.--I understand your name has been struck off the rolls.
Dombrain.--I don't see what that has to do with the case.
Counsel.--Ah, you are rather dense; I will explain. Your real name is Alfred Damberton. You were imprisoned in New Zealand for embezzlement, and on your release you came to England. Is this not true?
Dombrain(violently).--No sir! It is false! Who accuses me? The prisoner!--and why? Because I have brought her to justice. Through her lies I have been struck off the rolls, but I can prove myself innocent, and will do so shortly!
Counsel.--I wish you every success, Mr. Dombrain, but I am afraid you will find it difficult!
When Dombrain left the witness-box, the counsel for the prosecution said he had no more witnesses to call at present, upon which the counsel for the defence made a short speech, and said that as his learned brother had set the example of brevity, he would do the same thing, and only call one witness in defence of the prisoner. The name of that witness was Samson Belk.
Mrs. Belswin looked surprised when she heard this name, not for a moment thinking that Belk's evidence could do her any good; and Kaituna also appeared to be astonished, as she knew how Belk had kept out of the way since her mother's arrest. Maxwell's face, however, wore a contented smile, and this smile was reflected in the countenance of the defending counsel, so, without doubt, these two men knew that Belk's evidence was valuable, and were prepared to abide by the result.
Samson Belk, stepping into the witness-box, made oath according to law, and gave the following remarkable evidence in favour of the prisoner:--
He had been steward to the deceased baronet, and on the night of the murder had come up to the hall to ask his master a question about the discharge of farm hands. If was nearly eleven o'clock when he arrived at the door of the hall, and he hesitated whether to disturb Sir Rupert at that hour. However, seeing the light streaming out of the window of Sir Rupert's study, he advanced along in that direction, but on hearing angry voices he had hidden himself behind a bush on the terrace, in order to see what was the matter. The voices were those of Sir Rupert and another man, whose tones he did not recognise. The other man was imploring Sir Rupert to keep some secret, but the baronet refused, and said all the world would know the truth on the morrow. The man began to threaten, and Sir Rupert thrust him out of the window on to the terrace, telling him he would ruin him by revealing everything. So strong had been the baronet's push that the man fell down upon the side of the terrace near the balustrade, and Sir Rupert, with outstretched hand, stood pointing at him. The light of the lamp within shone on the man crouching at the baronet's feet, and I saw him take out something--I did not know what--and point it at Sir Rupert, who stood in the window. There was no sound, and yet the baronet fell, and the man, with a cry of triumph, rushed away into the darkness. Witness ran forward to see what was the matter with his master, and found him dead. He (the witness) had had a quarrel with Sir Rupert on that day, and being afraid lest, if he gave the alarm, he should be accused of the murder, and could not defend himself, he went away, and said nothing about it. The crime was discovered next morning, but no suspicion was fixed upon him, as no one had known of his presence on the terrace that night.
Counsel for the Prosecution.--But could you not denounce the man who committed the crime?
Belk.--I did not know who he was--I never saw him before or since the light fell on him through the window, until----
Counsel for the Prosecution.--Until when?
Belk.--Until I saw him to-day.
There was a great sensation in court, and every one looked at one another in astonishment, while a gleam of triumph flashed from the eyes of the prisoner.
Counsel for the Prosecution.--If you saw him to-day, as you say, do you know his name?
Belk.--Yes.
Counsel for the Prosecution.--And the name of this man who killed Sir Rupert?
Belk.--The man who accuses the prisoner of the murder--the man you call Dombrain.
If there was excitement before, there was ten times more excitement now, and the crier found great difficulty in reducing all present to silence. There was a sudden pause in the noise, and the prisoner, raising her eyes to heaven, said in a solemn voice--
"It is true! I am innocent of this crime. He has fallen himself into the pit he digged for another."
Yes, she was innocent, and the man who accused her guilty; but when they looked for Dombrain, in order to arrest him, he had disappeared--vanished into the depths of mighty London, when he heard his name coupled with that of murder.