"Weep till tears roll as a flood,I baptise thee now with blood."
"Weep till tears roll as a flood,I baptise thee now with blood."
With an exclamation of annoyance Edith rose, and, snatching the basin out of the man's hand, shut the window hurriedly. Martin gave a frightened whimper and slunk away; while his mistress, soaking a handkerchief in the water, bathed her pale face. Gebb, judiciously waiting the development of events, stood quietly by, wondering, but silent.
"Is this a lunatic asylum, Miss Wedderburn?" he asked when she was more composed, and he judged it judicious to recommence the conversation.
"No, of course not!" she replied irritably; "the man is mad, but quite harmless. Martin!--Martin!--I do not know his other name. He is an excellent gardener, and usually quiet enough, although he will sing those gruesome songs all about gallows and murders. To-day--for some reason--he is worse than usual."
"He ought to be placed under restraint," said Gebb, carelessly, for he was too bent on questioning his companion to be distracted by a lunatic. "But this is not to the point. May I ask what caused you to faint, Miss Wedderburn?"
The girl raised her head and directed a steady stare at Gebb. "In my turn, may I ask why you come here to question me?" she said defiantly.
"I thought I explained my errand before," replied the detective, mildly. "I am here to learn--if possible--who killed Miss Gilmar."
"I cannot tell you: I know nothing about it. Until you gave me the news I was not aware even that she was dead."
"Yet you were not so surprised by the information as I expected."
"That can be easily explained, Mr. Gebb," said Edith, wringing out her wet handkerchief. "As I told you before, I knew of my cousin's fears. She was perhaps pursued by Mr. Dean when he escaped from prison, with the avowed intention--it was reported--of killing her. She left her home--as I know--in order to hide from him; but it is possible--I say," she added with emphasis, "it is possible that Dean tracked her down and revenged himself for her conduct of twenty years ago. You wish to learn who killed Miss Gilmar, sir? I tell you I do not know! Mr. Dean, in my opinion, is innocent; but on the face of it, I admit that appearances are against him. Perhaps if you find the man and question him you may arrive at the truth."
"It is not improbable," replied Gebb, coolly; "but we must catch him first. Still, Miss Wedderburn, your opinion of Dean's guilt or innocence does not explain your recent conduct. To put a plain question, miss, 'What made you faint?'"
"That is my business!" said Edith, haughtily, but with averted eyes.
"And mine too. Why should you faint because I ask if you have another lover besides Mr. Alder?"
"I refuse to answer!"
"In that case," observed Gebb, artfully, "there must be something wrong with Arthur."
"How dare you call him Arthur?" flashed out Miss Wedderburn.
"Call who Arthur?" asked Gebb, laying a trap for her hasty tongue.
"Mr. Fer----" She stopped and bit her lip, hesitating, as it would appear, whether to tell the name or not. After a momentary pause she evidently deemed bold speaking the safest policy, for she continued calmly: "After all, there is no reason why I should not tell you his name."
"None in the world, so far as I can see," answered the detective, with a shrug. "I know that his Christian name is Arthur, but what is the surname of your lover, Miss Wedderburn?"
"How do you know that I have a lover?" retorted Edith, answering one question by asking another.
"How do I know that you have two lovers?" corrected Gebb, coolly. "Because you told me about one named Mr. John Alder, and Mr. Prain spoke to me about the other. I came here with a certain amount of knowledge, miss."
"Mr. Prain? What has he to do with it?"
"I don't know. I'm waiting for you to tell me."
Edith clasped her hands together with a restless movement, and walked up and down the room hastily. Suddenly, as though making up her mind to the inevitable, she stopped before the detective.
"Mr. Gebb," she said, clearly and distinctly, "I have no reason to conceal anything in my life. I am engaged to a gentleman named Arthur Ferris, whose occupation is that of an artist. He has nothing to do with the murder of Miss Gilmar--that I swear."
"There is no need to swear," said Gebb, wondering at her vehemence; "but why did you faint when I asked you about him?"
"I thought--I thought you might suspect him," faltered Miss Wedderburn, in a low tone. "I know how suspicious you detectives are. You seem to think that I know more than I tell you; but you are wrong--I do not."
"I suspect neither you nor Mr. Ferris," said Gebb, quietly; "but it was so strange that you should faint at a simple question, that I naturally wished to find out the reason."
"Well, sir, you know it now."
"I know the reason you choose to give," replied Gebb, significantly, "but you will excuse my saying that it is rather a weak one."
"I can give no other."
"You could if you wished."
"Then I refuse to give any other," rejoined Edith, with a frown.
"Quite so," replied Gebb, rising. "Well, there is nothing for it but for me to take my leave--for the present," he added significantly.
"This sudden cessation of Gebb's questions alarmed Edith more than the questions themselves had done, and she looked uneasy. Once or twice she appeared about to speak, but closed her lips again without a word, and conducted Gebb silently out of the house. The detective was rather annoyed by this self-control, as the sole reason of his manœuvre was to make Miss Wedderburn talk. Nine women out of ten would have done so, and have defended themselves with many words; but this girl was evidently the tenth, and knew the value of silence. However, Gebb was too experienced to show his annoyance, and, mentally resolving to question this Sphinx on a future occasion, when she was not so much on her guard, he took his leave with a last warning.
"You ought to have that mad gardener locked up," he said, looking up to Miss Wedderburn as she stood on the terrace, "else there will be another murder in the Yellow Boudoir."
"Oh, Martin is quite harmless," replied Edith, calmly. "I told you so before."
"So harmless, that had he lived in Grangebury I should have suspected him of killing your cousin," responded Gebb, dryly, and forthwith took his departure, considerably puzzled, as well he might be, by the attitude of the young lady. So far she had baffled him completely.
As he walked down the neglected avenue he heard the harsh, cracked voice of Mad Martin piping a tuneless ditty, and shortly afterwards met with the man himself face to face. With his lean, bent form, picturesque rags, and venerable white beard, the man looked like Lear, insane and wretched. When he saw Gebb, the creature stopped singing, and broke into a cackling laugh, which had little mirth in it Gebb--usually self-controlled and careless of impressions--shuddered at that merriment of hell.
"Are you in love with her too?" he asked the detective.
"No," replied Gebb, humouring the man. "Why do you think so?"
"John Alder came here and loved her," said Martin, reflectively. "Arthur Ferris came and loved her. I thought you might be a third. But you won't win her heart--oh no! Young Arthur has done that. Tall, straight, dark, handsome Arthur, with the mark of Satan on his cheek."
"The mark of Satan!" repeated Gebb, puzzled by this description of Ferris.
"Hist!" cried Martin, with uplifted finger. "He is a wizard and she a witch, and they dance in the Yellow Room when the moon is up. Young Arthur has a red mark on his cheek; Satan baptized him there with blood. Oh, blood! oh, blood!" moaned the wretched creature, "nothing but blood.
"'A knife for you, and a rope for me,And death in the Yellow Room;I am alive, and you are dead,But each hath gotten a tomb.'"
"'A knife for you, and a rope for me,And death in the Yellow Room;I am alive, and you are dead,But each hath gotten a tomb.'"
And with a long, dolorous cry Martin ran up the avenue swinging his arms, leaving Gebb to puzzle out his enigmatic verse as best he could.
Gebb, much to his disgust, returned to Norminster as wise as he had left it. Beyond meeting a lunatic, and interviewing an obstinate young woman, he had spent his time and money to little purpose; and it was with a perplexed brain that he sat down to consider his future movements. In the face of his failure he was at a loss how to act. Miss Wedderburn, with what looked like deliberate intention, only repeated the story he already knew.
Miss Gilmar had confessed to a fear of Dean. She had fled from the Hall on account of that fear; her travels and hidings and extraordinary precautions had been undertaken solely to thwart the revenge of Dean. Gebb was aware of these facts; but there was nothing more in them likely to instruct him. He had, so far, exhausted their capabilities.
"What am I to do?" he asked himself for, say, the fiftieth time. "How am I to act? In which direction am I to move? Miss Wedderburn, without any given reason, says that Dean is innocent. Prain is of the same way of thinking, and so am I. Parge alone seems to believe in Dean's guilt, and I don't agree with him. The man himself may be able to supply evidence to reveal the truth; but where is he to be found?"
Gebb could answer this question no more than he could the others he propounded, and vainly racked his usually inventive brain to settle on some course likely to elucidate the mystery. Finally, after mature reflection, he resolved to call upon Prain, and ask him to explain the meaning of Miss Wedderburn's fainting. The lawyer had told him to ask a certain question, and see what answer it would bring. Well, he had done so; and the answer was that the girl, without any apparent cause, had fainted. Perhaps Prain knew the reason; and since Edith refused to reveal it, his sole course was to question the solicitor. So to Prain the detective went, full of curiosity, two days after his return from the country. The interval had been filled up in attending to business unconnected with the Grangebury mystery; but now Gebb returned to it again, and sought Mr. Prain in the hope of learning something tangible. But his spirits were very low.
"Well, Mr. Gebb," said brisk Mr. Prain, after greetings had passed, "I have not been idle since I saw you last I have sent a description of that necklace to the police. I have informed Mr. Alder of Miss Gilmar's death, and I have received his instructions about the will."
"There is a will, then?"
"Without doubt. Miss Gilmar made her will before she left the Hall."
"In favour of Mr. Alder?" said Gebb.
"Yes. Of course, by the will of Kirkstone's ancestor Mr. Alder becomes possessed of the Hall; but Miss Gilmar has left her personal property--that is, the money which she inherited from Laura Kirkstone--to him also. Miss Wedderburn, I am sorry to say, receives nothing."
"Poor girl. She will have to leave the Hall."
Prain shrugged his shoulders. "That is at her own discretion," he said, coolly. "Mr. Alder is in love with her; so if she marries him----"
"She won't marry him," interrupted Gebb; "she is in love with, and engaged to, Mr. Ferris."
"Ah! she told you about that scamp?"
"She told me very little, Mr. Prain; but she fainted when I mentioned the man under the very general description of a lover."
"She fainted! Hum!" Prain looked so serious and perplexed that Gebb was impelled to question him further touching the matter.
"Why did she faint?" asked the detective, bluntly.
"I don't know--that is, I can't exactly say," stammered the other.
Gebb looked at the solicitor, who in his turn stared at the carpet, the ceiling, at the papers on his desk; anywhere but at his questioner.
"Mr. Prain," he said seriously, "you are not treating me fairly."
"I beg your pardon," said Prain, nervously--and as a rule he was not a nervous man, "I don't see how you make that out."
"I do!" replied Gebb, sharply. "You know the reason of that fainting."
"Perhaps I do; but I am not at liberty to reveal my knowledge. The secret is Miss Wedderburn's."
"Has it anything to do with this murder?"
"No," replied Prain, decisively. "That it has not."
"Then why did you tell me to ask her about Ferris?"
"Because I wanted to be sure of something; and that fainting has enlightened me."
"Can't you tell me more?" cried Gebb, with some indignation.
"No, I cannot," answered Prain, bluntly. "Get Miss Wedderburn's permission, and I will. But even if you did know, the knowledge would be of no use to you."
"Has Miss Wedderburn any theory about this murder?"
"Not that I know of. You saw her last, Mr. Gebb."
"Does she know who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"Why not ask her?" said Prain, evading the question.
"I did; and I can't make out what she means. She says that Dean is innocent, but won't give her reason. Now, Parge declares that Dean is guilty."
"Well, Mr. Gebb, perhaps he is."
"Indeed!" sneered Gebb, who was growing irritated. "Last time I saw you, Mr. Prain, you denied his guilt."
"And I do so now!" cried Prain, warmly. "I believe, as you do, Gebb, that Dean is innocent of both crimes. He killed neither Kirkstone nor Miss Gilmar. I don't know what Miss Wedderburn's reasons are, but she is right to defend Dean. Still," added Prain with a shrug, "I don't deny that many people look on the man as a murderer."
"Does Mr. Alder believe in Dean's guilt--in his double guilt?"
"Yes. He is sure of it. You can ask him for yourself," added Prain, looking at his watch. "He'll be here soon."
"I'll be glad to meet him. But what is your opinion about this crime?"
"I told you the last time I saw you," replied the solicitor. "Miss Gilmar was murdered by one of those fortune-tellers for the sake of her diamonds. Recover that necklace, and you will soon trace the assassin."
"It's not much of an idea," said Gebb, scornfully.
"It's the best I've got, at all events!" retorted Prain, with heat. "I have done my best to prove its truth by sending a description of that necklace to the police."
"I dare say the description is in the hands of all pawnbrokers by this time," said Gebb, thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see what will come of it. What about Ferris?"
"Ferris!" repeated Prain, in no wise astonished at this abrupt question. "Well, he is an artist, and a bit of a scamp, with whom Edith Wedderburn is in love. I don't know why; perhaps because he is a scamp. Women seem to like scamps, for some reason best known to themselves."
"Is he handsome?"
"Very. Tall and dark; rather military-looking."
"Has he a mark on one cheek?"
"Yes, a birth-mark; but not disfiguring. How did you know about it?"
"That lunatic at Kirkstone Hall told me. He called it the mark of Satan. By the way, who is that man?"
"A gardener who used to live at the Hall in Kirkstone's time. I think the tragedy of the Yellow Room must have sent him off his head. At all events, he ran away after it occurred, and only turned up a year or two ago, quite mad."
"Why didn't they lock him up?"
"Well, you see, Miss Wedderburn (who is rather a strong-minded young woman) thinks kindness may cure him; so she gave him back his old post of gardener. If Miss Gilmar had been there, I don't think he would have been allowed to stay. I don't think, either, that Miss W.'s experiment will be a success."
"He sings the most gruesome songs--about murder, and blood, and the Yellow Room."
"I know," replied Prain, cheerfully. "I am afraid that last muddled his brain and inspired his muse. He didn't sing or compose verse when I knew him; but the man's a complete wreck. He used to be rather handsome and stupid; but his own father wouldn't know him now. I'm sorry for the poor devil, as now that Alder owns the Hall I dare say he'll be kicked out, and have to end his days in an asylum."
"The best place for him, in my opinion," said Gebb, emphatically. "He is as mad as a March hare, and not half so harmless. Hullo! Who is that knocking? Come in."
It proved to be a note from Inspector Lackland, asking Gebb to come down to Grangebury. In the first instance it had gone to Scotland Yard, and, as it seemed important, had been sent on to the detective, who had left word that he would be at Prain's, in case he was wanted.
"Seems important," said Gebb, reading it. "I wonder what Lackland wants to see me about--eh, Prain?"
But Prain was not attending to him. He was busy shaking hands with a tall, broad-shouldered man, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and altogether comely to look upon. This gentleman was introduced to Gebb by the name of Alder; whereby the detective was informed that he stood in the presence of Miss Gilmar's heir and Miss Wedderburn's lover. Alder on hearing Gebb's name looked at him keenly, and saluted him with marked cordiality.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Gebb," he said, in loud and hearty tones; indeed, he was rather like a fox-hunting squire than a barrister. "How are you getting on with the case of my poor cousin's murder? Have you caught Dean?"
"No," answered Gebb, plainly; "and, to tell you the truth, I am not sure that Dean is the culprit."
"But if you knew what Dean said about----"
"I know all that Dean said," interrupted Gebb, "also that he escaped; but, for all that, I do not think he killed Miss Gilmar--or Kirkstone either, for the matter of that."
"Hum!" said Alder, thoughtfully. "I see you are of Basson's opinion."
"Mr. Clement Basson! Do you know him?" asked the detective.
"I should think so!" replied Alder, smiling. "I have known him for years. He was Dean's counsel in the Kirkstone case."
"I instructed him," said Prain, complacently. "He believed in Dean's innocence as I did; but unfortunately our united efforts could not get the poor devil off."
"I think I'll call on Mr. Basson," said the detective, thoughtfully. "Where is he to be found?"
"No. 40, Blackstone Lane, Fleet Street," replied Alder promptly; "but what do you expect to learn from him?"
"His reasons for believing Dean not guilty."
"They are the same as mine," cried Prain, "and I don't know how his stating them over again can help you. He does not know where Dean is."
"Still Mr. Gebb had better see Basson," suggested Alder, with conviction. "Something may come of the visit. Will you call on me afterwards, Mr. Gebb, and tell me what you learn from Basson? I am to be found in the Temple, and, as you may guess, I am most anxious that Dean should be traced. I intend to offer a reward of two hundred pounds for his capture. I hope you will earn it."
"I hope so, too," answered Gebb, much pleased; "but you are certain that Dean is guilty?"
"If he is not, I don't know who is," replied Alder, emphatically; and for the time being the conversation ended.
Gebb left Alder to consult with Prain as to the necessity of exhuming the body of Miss Gilmar for identification, and took his way down to Grangebury to learn why the bluff Lackland had written so earnest and urgent a note. He found the plethoric inspector in a state of excitement bordering on apoplexy, and wondered what could have occurred to stimulate the martinet to such unusual excitement.
"That you, Gebb?" cried Lackland, the moment the detective put his nose inside the door. "George! I am glad to see you. It's found, sir--found! What do you think of that, hey?"
"What is found? the name of the murderer?"
"No, no; but something as useful. The diamond necklace," said Lackland, slowly.
"You don't say so!" cried Gebb, excitedly. "Was it sold--pawned----?"
"Pawned!" interrupted the inspector. "Aaron and Nathan's, Harold Street, City. It came into their possession the day after the murder."
"The devil! Our assassinating friend lost no time. Who pawned it?"
"A young man who called himself James Brown."
"James Fiddlesticks," said Gebb, contemptuously--"a false name. What was he like?"
"Tall, dark, handsome," said Lackland, with military brevity. "Aaron said that he put the necklace up the spout as cool as a cucumber. He was----"
"Hold on!" cried Gebb, eagerly. "Had he a mark on one cheek--a birth-mark?"
"By George, he had! A purple spot; but not large enough to spoil his looks."
"I thought so!" said the detective, joyously. "So it was Arthur Ferris did it."
"Arthur who?" asked Lackland, gruffly.
"Arthur Ferris, of Chelsea, artist. He pawned the necklace; he stole the diamonds; he murdered Miss Gilmar. Hurrah! we've got him."
The unexpected discovery that Ferris had pawned the necklace, spurred Gebb to unusual activity. No longer doubtful how to act, he hastened to procure a warrant of arrest against the young man; yet before doing so, and to be certain that his belief was not a false one, he called first at Aaron and Nathan's. These worthy Jews he questioned closely concerning the necklace, and the man who had pawned it. The ornament corresponded in every way with the description furnished by Prain; and the individual, on the evidence of his appearance, and of the birth-mark on his right cheek, could not be mistaken for any one but Ferris. Furthermore, his connection with Edith, who in her turn was connected with the murdered woman, gave colour to Gebb's assumption that Ferris was the guilty person.
"I understand now why Miss Wedderburn fainted," said Gebb to himself. "She thought, when I mentioned him as her lover, that I had discovered the truth, and feared for his safety. No doubt, having informed him about that necklace, and Miss Gilmar's fear of death, he killed and robbed the woman in the hope that Dean would be blamed."
If things were as Gebb surmised, Ferris, in hoping that his crime would be laid to the charge of Dean, displayed an amount of cunning hardly compatible with his disposal of the plunder. He had accomplished the crime so cleverly, and had escaped so mysteriously, that Gebb could not understand why he had pawned the necklace so openly, the very next day, under the obviously false name of James Brown. The rashness nullified his former caution, for he might have guessed that information concerning the jewels would be sent to all pawnshops. As a criminal, Ferris evidently had to learn the A.B.C. of his craft.
"Why did he not wait until the storm blew over before pawning the necklace," murmured Gebb, much perplexed, "or, at least, take the stones out of their setting and sell them separately, either in London, Paris, or Amsterdam? Discovery would have been more difficult in that case. And why did he pawn them so hurriedly unless he intended to leave England? But in that case Edith Wedderburn would have known of his intended departure, and probably would have gone with him. Rum sort of cove he must be."
Gebb in this manner argued the case for and against Ferris, for the young man's conduct displayed such a mixture of caution and rashness as to perplex the detective. Still it was no use, as he well knew, to waste his time in making bricks without straw, when the arrest of the culprit might enable him to gain a frank explanation of these obviously silly actions; so Gebb, on the evidence of the pawning, procured a warrant and proceeded to take Ferris in charge. As a further mark of the man's folly, he had given a wrong name but a right address; and Gebb, proceeding to Chelsea, asked at an Eden Street house for Mr. Brown, only to be told that Mr. Ferris was the sole lodger in it. The naïve simplicity of this novice in crime almost made the detective swear to his innocence on the spot.
"Confound it!" said Gebb, disconcerted by this, "the man has gone about the pawning so openly that I really believe he is guiltless of the crime. Either that or he's a born fool, although even that is doubtful Miss Wedderburn is not the sort of woman to love an idiot, although she does protect one. Seems to me as I'm dealing with a lot of crazy folk."
Ferris chanced to be absent at the time of Gebb's visit, but was expected back every moment; so, on intimating that he wished to see the artist on a matter of importance, and would wait for his return, the detective was shown into the studio. It was a bare apartment of some size, with ample light, but few decorations. Ferris seemed to be rather a hard worker than an artistic dandy, for there were scattered around none of the knickknacks and "bibelots" which many painters love to collect. There was a sprawling clay-figure near a carpeted daïs for the model, specimens of work on the walls, plaster heads and unfinished pictures lying about in disorder, and on the easel, beside a rusty iron stove, a landscape picture in progress of painting. Altogether the studio looked anything but that of a Sybarite, and in no wise accorded with Prain's description of Ferris as a scamp, for scamps as a rule owe their doubtful reputations to their assiduity in gratifying all their tastes, the best and the worst.
"Yet he must have been hard pushed for money to murder that old woman in order to rob her," said Gebb. "So, if he is economical here, I expect he is wasteful in other ways. Hullo! here's a letter on the writing-table with the Norminster postmark. Empty!" he added in disgust, finding no letter inside. "Yet it is from that girl, I am certain. The handwriting is that of a woman. Hum! And yesterday's date, I see by the postmark. She had been writing to warn him. She knows all about the matter. I wish I could find the letter. She's a deep one, that girl, and as sharp as a needle. She wouldn't have bungled the murder as Ferris has done."
With this doubtful tribute of admiration, Gebb calmly proceeded to turn over the papers on the writing-table, and examine the drawers. But he could find no letter from Edith amongst the loose papers, and the drawers proved to be locked, which showed that Ferris was a more cautious man than his conduct in pawning the necklace indicated. How far Gebb would have proceeded with his search, or how successful he would have been, it is hard to say; for just as he was casting his eyes towards a bureau which, he thought, might contain papers likely to illuminate Ferris and his dark ways, the door opened and the man himself entered with a brisk step. He appeared agitated and rather pale, but on the whole composed and business-like.
For a moment or so he did not speak, but looked at Gebb with no very friendly expression of countenance. On his side, the detective scrutinized the face of the newcomer with close attention, to see in what degree he corresponded to the descriptions of Prain and Martin. He beheld a tall and slender man, with an intelligent expression and brilliant black eyes. On his short upper lip there was a small pointed moustache, which gave him a rather military appearance, and on his right cheek a purple mark, the size of a sixpence, but which--his skin being so dark--did not show very conspicuously. He was dressed quietly and in good style, and to all appearance was a man who respected himself too much to indulge in the profligacy with which he was credited by Prain. Gebb was rather favourably impressed by him than otherwise, and could not help regretting his errand.
"I am told you are waiting to see me," said Ferris, civilly. "May I inquire your business?"
"Is your name Arthur Ferris?"
"It is. May I ask what----"
"I arrest you in the Queen's name!" interrupted Gebb, laying one hand on the young man's shoulder, and with the other drawing forth his warrant.
Ferris turned white even to the lips, and leaped back with an exclamation of alarm and surprise. The detective's action seemed to amaze him.
"Arrest me! Why? What for? Who are you?"
"My name is Gebb; I am a detective. Here is my warrant for your arrest, Mr. Ferris, on a charge of murder."
"Murder!" repeated Ferris, much agitated, as was natural. "You accuse me of murder? There is some mistake."
"People in your position always say so," replied Gebb, dryly; "but there is no mistake. You murdered a woman called Gilmar on the twenty-fourth of July last."
"It's a lie! I no more murdered Miss Gilmar than you did."
"That has yet to be proved, sir. Here is my warrant, and I have a couple of men outside in case of need. However, I have no desire to make trouble, and if you come along with me quietly, I shall use you civilly. We can drive to the prison in a hansom."
Ferris, who was looking round wildly, as though for some means of escape, started and recoiled at the sound of the ill-omened word.
"To prison!" he echoed hoarsely. "Great God! you would not take me to prison. I am innocent, I tell you. I know nothing of this murder."
"We have evidence to the contrary," said Gebb, quietly; "and I advise you, sir, to hold your tongue. Anything you say now will be used in evidence against you."
"I shall not hold my tongue," said Ferris, with more composure. "There is nothing I can say likely to inculpate me in the matter. I protest against your action. I protest against being treated as a criminal."
"You can protest as much as you like, Mr. Ferris, but you must come with me. You may thank your stars that I have not put the darbies on you. Give me your word not to attempt escape, and we'll walk out arm-in-arm; no one will guess where you are going. You see, I wish to make matters easy for you."
"I shall not try to escape," said the unfortunate young man, proudly, "as I have done nothing wrong. If I must go to prison on this charge, I must; and I thank you, Mr. Gebb, for your civility, but I swear before God that I am innocent of this crime."
With this speech he resumed his hat and walked slowly out of the studio. Gebb followed forthwith, and slipped his arm within that of Ferris, so that the pair seemed to be leaving the house in a friendly way. Two men were waiting at a distance, but on Gebb's nodding to them to intimate that his charge was amenable to reason, they walked off; and shortly afterwards the detective and Ferris got into a hansom. Gebb directed the driver whither to go, and then turned to comfort his companion, for whose despair he felt extremely sorry. Certainly, the young man's conduct did not suggest guilt.
"Cheer up, Mr. Ferris," he said kindly; "if you are innocent you will soon be out of this trouble."
"I don't know how ever I came into it," replied Ferris, disconsolately. "You mean kindly, Mr. Gebb; therefore, in spite of what you say regarding my remarks being used against me, I shall speak freely. I did not know Miss Gilmar at all. I never set eyes on her in my life; and until yesterday I was not aware of her death."
"I see. Miss Wedderburn wrote and informed you of that," said Gebb, coolly.
"What do you know of Miss Wedderburn?" asked Ferris, in surprise.
"I have seen her and spoken with her; and I know from her own lips that she is engaged to you. On your writing-table I saw an envelope with the Norminster postmark and yesterday's date, so I guessed that she wrote to you about Miss Gilmar's death."
"She did! I have no reason to conceal it. But she did not mention that she had conversed with you."
"Perhaps not, Mr. Ferris. She is a young lady who can keep her own counsel."
"She has no secrets that I know of," said Ferris, haughtily.
Gebb shrugged his shoulders. "She has one about you," he said calmly.
"Indeed!" replied the other with sarcasm. "And do you know what it is, Mr. Gebb?"
"I did not know when I saw her, but I know now. Miss Wedderburn is aware that you killed Miss Gilmar."
"Did she say so?" asked Ferris, anxiously.
"No; but I guess that is her secret. You are guilty, you know."
"I swear I am not!" rejoined Ferris, vehemently. "I never saw Miss Gilmar. I did not murder her. I know nothing about the woman."
"Do you know anything about the diamond necklace?"
"The diamond necklace!" stammered Ferris, changing colour, and with a visible start, for this leading question evidently took him by surprise.
"Yes! the necklace you pawned on the twenty-fifth of July to Aaron and Nathan."
"It--it--was--was mine," replied the young man, as clearly as his consternation would let him.
"It was not yours," said Gebb, sharply; "it was Miss Gilmar's. She wore it on the night of the murder, and it was taken from the corpse."
"I did not take it. I did not take it."
"Yet you pawned it."
"Yes, I pawned it, but I swear I did not take it."
"Then how did it come in your possession?"
"I refuse to answer that question," said Ferris, sullenly.
Gebb shrugged his shoulders. "Just as you please," he said; "but the fact of your pawning that necklace is the cause of your arrest. If you can explain----"
"I explain nothing. I intend to keep my business to myself."
"Then you will be in danger of the gallows."
Ferris bit his lip and shuddered. "I am innocent," he said, wonderfully calm considering his position, "but I refuse to state how I became possessed of the necklace."
The next day Ferris was brought up before the magistrate on the charge of murdering Miss Gilmar. He looked pale and ill, and heard the evidence of his pawning of the necklace in absolute silence. When he was asked to defend himself he refused to utter a word; he declined even to engage a solicitor; so in the face of this conduct there was nothing for it but to commit him for trial. Ferris asked for bail, but his request being refused, he was taken back to prison, still silent. He might have been a stone image for all the information the law got out of him; and every one marvelled at his obstinacy, so dangerous to himself, so inexplicable to others.
Gebb could not understand why he acted in this way, and risked his neck in so obstinate a manner. Certainly Ferris declared himself to be innocent; but he refused to prove the truth of his words, and preserved an impenetrable silence which at once perplexed and provoked the detective. The only reason he could conjecture for the mulish behaviour of the artist was that the evidence against him was too strong for disproval, and that he knew this to be the case.
"Still he might make an effort to save himself," thought Gebb, as he sat meditating in his office, "if only to tell a lie; although I don't quite see what he could say. Mrs. Presk declared that Miss Gilmar wore her jewels on that evening, and when we found the body those jewels were gone. The principal jewel--which is a necklace--was pawned the day after the murder by Arthur Ferris, who knows Miss Wedderburn, who knew Miss Gilmar; and he refuses to state how the necklace came into his possession. If he murdered the woman his possession of the diamonds is easily accounted for: if he is innocent he must have obtained the necklace from the assassin. Therefore, if not guilty himself, he must know who is: that is plain logic."
Logic or not, the result of the argument was very unsatisfactory, and Gebb, in his own mind, was unable to decide either for or against Ferris. He had that morning informed Prain by letter about the artist's committal for trial, and asked him to call at the prison to discover if possible the reason for the strange conduct of Ferris. Also, he requested Prain to call at his office, and tell him the result of the interview. So when his meditations were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door, he quite expected to see the little solicitor enter. In place of Prain, however, he beheld the burly form of John Alder, who appeared to be different from his usual genial self.
"You are no doubt surprised to see me here, Mr. Gebb," he said, when the first greetings had passed, "but I am greatly disturbed about Ferris. He is a friend of mine, you know."
Gebb did not know about the friendship, but he was well aware that Ferris was Alder's favoured rival with Edith Wedderburn, so wondered at the tender-heartedness of the man who was distressed over the removal of an obstacle to his wooing.
"Why are you disturbed?" asked Gebb, rather sceptically. "What makes you worry over Ferris?"
"Because I am sure he is innocent of this murder," replied Alder. "Oh, I heard all about his arrest and committal for trial from Prain, who has gone round to see him. So I thought I would come and tell you that I am convinced of his innocence."
"But he pawned the necklace, Mr. Alder; he admits that he did."
"Then he must have obtained the necklace from some one else."
"That may be, sir," said Gebb, quietly; "but if he did he refuses to say as much. And whosoever gave him the necklace killed Miss Gilmar."
"What defence does he make?" asked Alder, looking puzzled.
"None. He asserts his innocence, but refuses to explain how he became possessed of the necklace. If he can't explain, or won't explain, those diamonds will hang him."
"In what way? I don't quite see how you arrive at that point."
"Miss Gilmar wore the necklace on the night she was killed," explained the detective; "it was gone when we found the body; so by the strongest of circumstantial evidence the assassin must have taken it."
"All this may be true, Mr. Gebb, but it does not prove that poor Ferris is guilty."
"I think it does," replied Gebb, coolly, "seeing that he pawned the necklace in question. If he isn't the principal, he is an accessory before the fact."
"Won't he confess how he became possessed of the diamonds?"
"No, not to me. He refuses to say a word in his own defence."
"Then I tell you what," said Alder, gravely, "this quixotic young man is defending another person; he is shielding the assassin."
"If he is, that shows him to be an accessory either before or after the fact," repeated Gebb. "But who is the person you think he is shielding?"
"Dean! I believe the man killed my cousin."
"Does Mr. Ferris know Dean?" asked Gebb, looking up sharply.
"No. Nor did he know Miss Gilmar, so far as my knowledge goes," said Alder, with a nod. "Ferris has been a friend of mine for many years, and although for certain reasons we are not very intimate, I am sure he is not guilty of this crime."
"If Ferris did not know Dean, or does not know him, I don't very well see how he can be shielding him!" cried Gebb, irritably. "If you will excuse me saying so, Mr. Alder, I think you are talking sheer nonsense."
"I am sorry you think so," said Alder, stiffly. "Of course I only state that Ferris is not acquainted with Dean, so far as I am aware; but he may know him for all that."
"Why?" asked Gebb, pertinently.
"Because I am certain that Dean is guilty."
"Admitting that he is--which I don't on the strength of the romantic vow--how did Ferris become possessed of the necklace?"
"I don't know. Only Ferris can explain that."
"Well, then, Mr. Alder, he won't explain. So on the face of it he is guilty, and Dean isn't."
"I tell you he is innocent!" said Alder, angrily, "and my friend Mr. Basson can prove it."
"Basson--Clement Basson, the barrister?" said Gebb, with a stare. "Why, what on earth has he got to do with it?"
"He saw Ferris on the night of the murder!"
"Saw him! Where?"
"At Grangebury! In the evening."
"And Miss Gilmar was murdered at Grangebury," said the detective. "Why, that looks as though Ferris was guilty. Your evidence rather condemns than exonerates him."
"Not at all," rejoined Alder, tartly. "I read the evidence of the murder in the daily papers, although I did not know at the time that Miss Ligram was my cousin, Ellen Gilmar."
"Well. What of that?" inquired Gebb, rather puzzled by the irrelevancy of this remark.
"This much. Mrs. Presk and her servant were at a lecture on Dickens in the Grangebury Town Hall."
"I know that."
"Well, Mr. Gebb, that lecture was given by Basson!"
"By Clement Basson, the barrister, who defended Dean twenty years ago?"
"The same! You must know that Basson is a friend of mine," continued Alder, conversationally, "and a barrister, like myself. He is by no means well off, as he is fonder of play than of work. I suggested to him that he should write and deliver a few lectures in order to make money, for he has a fine voice and is an excellent orator. He adopted my suggestion and wrote a lecture on Dickens; but being nervous, he wished to make an experiment in the suburbs, before attempting to interest a London audience. I suggested that he should deliver it in the Grangebury Town Hall, as I know many people in that suburb. He consented, and delivered the lecture on the twenty-fourth of July, that is, on the very night my cousin was murdered."
"And Mrs. Presk attended the lecture with her servant," reflected Gebb. "Did you know that Miss Gilmar was in Grangebury?"
"I! No! She took lodgings in Paradise Row under the name of Ligram, you know," said Alder. "I had not set eyes on her for years--in fact, not since she left Kirkstone Hall. Out of terror lest she should be killed by Dean, she kept her address secret from all, although I believe she occasionally wrote to Miss Wedderburn on business."
"I know," replied Gebb, with a nod. "But Miss Wedderburn had not heard from your cousin since six months before the murder; so she was not aware of Miss Ligram's--or rather Miss Gilmar's--presence in Grangebury. But what has the lecture to do with Ferris and his innocence?"
"I'm coming to that," said Alder, quietly. "As I had suggested the lecture to Basson, I wished him to have a large audience, so I asked my friends in Grangebury to attend; also I invited some London acquaintances, amongst them Ferris."
"Did Ferris go to the lecture?"
"Yes. I saw him myself at the door, when I spoke a few words to him. He sat in a front row, and Basson--who knows him--told me that he stayed almost to the end of the lecture."
"Oh," said Gebb, meaningly. "Almost to the end!"
"Well, at all events, he stayed until ten o'clock," replied Alder, rather nettled "And as my cousin was killed about that time, Ferris could not have murdered her."
"No! Certainly not So far as I can see, Ferris can prove an alibi. If so, why does he not defend himself in that way?"
Alder shrugged his shoulders. "I can't say; unless he is shielding some one. I suggest Dean, as I really believe that Dean is guilty; but then--so far as I know--Ferris is not acquainted with Dean. Nor is anybody, for the man has not been heard of since he escaped from prison. But you see, Mr. Gebb, that if my cousin was murdered at ten o'clock--and the medical evidence says she was--Ferris, who was in the Grangebury Town Hall at that hour, cannot be guilty."
"I admit that! I shall look into the matter," said Gebb, "and let me tell you, Mr. Alder, that I think very well of you for coming forward with this evidence, as I know that Mr. Ferris is your rival."
"With Miss Wedderburn," said Alder, colouring. "True enough; but for all that I don't want him to be hanged when I know that he is innocent. If Miss Wedderburn marries Ferris I'll just have to put up with it, that's all."
Gebb was about to express further admiration of Alder's conduct when the door opened unexpectedly, and Prain came hurriedly into the room. The little man looked worried, and with a nod to his brother lawyer, he threw himself into a chair near the detective's desk.
"Well, Gebb," he said, in a vexed tone, "I have been to see that young ass, and I can't induce him to speak."
"There will be no need for it," said Gebb, quietly; "I know now that he is innocent, Mr. Prain."
"How is that?" asked the solicitor, in amazement. Whereat Gebb, with the assistance of Alder, told him of the presence of Ferris in the Town Hall at the hour the murder was committed. Prain was more amazed than ever. "Great Heavens!" he said; "if the man is innocent, and can prove it, as you say, why doesn't he speak out?"
"Because he is screening some one, I think," said Gebb.
"I know he is," said Alder; "and I believe that the some one is Dean."
"Why?" asked Prain, with a sharp look.
"I believe that Dean committed the crime, Mr. Prain."
"Yes, but you also believe that Ferris does not know Dean," cried Gebb, crossly; "so why should he shield him?"
"That is a paradox," said Alder, smiling.
Prain looked up with a grave expression on his face. "It is a paradox which I can explain," he said shortly. "Ferris does know Dean."
"He does know Dean!" cried both his hearers in amazement.
"Yes! I may as well tell you both, that Arthur Ferris is the son of Marmaduke Dean."