Shaking in the body and white in the face, Ferris looked upon the jewellery, which seemed positive evidence of his father's guilt, then flung himself back on the couch with a groan, his hand over his eyes to shut out the terrible sight--for terrible it was to him, the son of Marmaduke Dean. Edith also gazed fearfully upon the heap of gold and glittering stones, not doubting the truth of Gebb's story.
"Yes!" said the detective, raking the jewels together and replacing them in the bag. "In looking for Miss Gilmar's confession I found these in the room of Dean. They were hidden on the top of a tall press in a dark corner, and I felt, rather than saw them. The case against your father is clear enough, Mr. Ferris, although I was doubtful of it at first. Mrs. Grix can prove that he spent the night of the twenty-fourth of July away from the Hall. The ticket I found in Miss Gilmar's room shows that he must have been there, since no one but he could have possessed, in this especial instance, a ticket from Norminster to London. I'll have the evidence of the station-master and the ticket-clerk to prove his purchase of it shortly, and finally the possession of this jewellery places the matter beyond all doubt."
"There must be some mistake," said Edith, when she found her tongue, "for, although the evidence is against Mr. Dean, I can't believe him guilty. He is an old, broken-down man, timid and cowed. To plan and carry out so ingenious and remorseless a crime would need more spirit and determination than he is possessed of. Besides," she added, very reasonably, "If, as we all think, Mr. Dean is guiltless of Kirkstone's death, why should he kill Miss Gilmar?"
"That is rather an argument against than in favour of him," said Gebb, quietly. "If she condemned him unjustly, and bore false witness against him, as I truly believe she did, that very fact would make him all the more anxious to punish her for such perjury. What do you think, Mr. Ferris?"
"What can I think?" groaned the young man. "The evidence seems to prove my father's guilt. Still, on the face of it, I agree with Miss Wedderburn; he cannot be guilty. Innocent men have been hanged on evidence as conclusive; yet afterwards the truth has come to light. A judge and jury found him guilty of Kirkstone's murder, which we are now certain he did not commit, so it is possible that, despite the evidence to the contrary, he may be innocent of this second crime. Mr. Gebb!" added Ferris, entreatingly, "you know the whole of this matter, and are more experienced in such cases than Miss Wedderburn and myself. Tell us truly--Do you believe in my father's guilt?"
The detective hesitated, and, looking from one to the other, rubbed his chin in a perplexed manner. "I shall answer you honestly, Mr. Ferris," said he, after a pause. "I am not certain of your father's guilt. I said that the possession of this jewellery placed the matter beyond doubt; but against that I must place the fact--established by strong circumstantial evidence--that Miss Gilmar received her assassin as a friend. She was afraid of Dean, and even after the lapse of twenty years she must have recognized him. In place of giving him wine and cigarettes, her impulse would have been to cry out for help. Moreover, without knowing all about her visitor--presuming he was disguised--she would not have let him into her house. On the whole I am doubtful. The fact of the jewellery being found in his room proves his guilt; the fact that Miss Gilmar conversed with him as a friend shows his innocence. Who can decide the matter?"
"I know!" said Edith, suddenly--"Mr. Dean himself. You say that he is in Norminster gaol, Mr. Gebb. Well, that is only a mile from here, so let us all three go there and question Mr. Dean. With this evidence for and against him, he must either declare his innocence or admit his guilt."
"It is the most straightforward course," said Gebb, with a nod. "What do you say, Mr. Ferris?"
"I am content to abide by my father's word," replied Arthur, rising. "Anything is better than this uncertainty. Let us go to Norminster gaol."
"It's rather late," said Gebb, glancing at his watch. "However, I dare say we shall have no difficulty in seeing the prisoner. Come along!"
In the then tumble-down, deserted condition of Kirkstone Hall there was no vehicle obtainable, but the evening was pleasant and Norminster no great distance away, so the three walked briskly along the road in the cool, grey twilight. Conversing about the case made the way seem short, and they soon arrived in the little town and halted before the gates of the gaol. A word from Gebb procured them instant admittance, and they were shown into the presence of the Governor, a retired major, with a bluff manner and a twinkling eye, which was not unobservant of Edith's good looks.
"Well, sir," said Gebb, almost immediately, "and how is your prisoner?"
"Clothed and in his right mind!" replied the Governor. "He has given over his sulking and feigned madness, and evidently seems resolved to make the best of things. Indeed, I shouldn't be surprised, Mr. Gebb, if he intended to make you his father-confessor, for he has asked several times after you."
"Good!" said Gebb, rubbing his hands. "This looks like business; he has thrown up the sponge."
"Will you see him now?" asked the Governor, with a side glance at Edith.
"At once, if you please; and I wish this lady and gentleman to be admitted with me."
"Well, it is hardly regular to admit strangers at this hour, Mr. Gebb," said the Major. "Still, as you captured the man, and it is as well for you to hear his confession, if he wishes to make it, I am content to accede to your request. Have you any interest in the matter?" he asked, looking at Edith inquisitively.
"Yes, The man was hidden in my place under the name of Martin," she replied with a blush, not deeming it wise to further enlighten the Governor.
"Indeed. You are Miss Wedderburn, of the Hall? I thought so. Well, go along, all of you, but don't remain more than half an hour with the prisoner. I have to lock up for the night shortly; and I may be tempted to keep so fair a lady in my castle, you know."
Laughing at his own mild joke, the Governor gave his visitors over to the guidance of a warder; and they were soon ushered into a cell, where they found Dean sitting on his bed, chatting cheerfully with the man who watched him. He sprang up to receive them, and after the warder had exchanged a few words with the watcher, they both withdrew, leaving the lamp in the cell. Gebb was much gratified by this mark of the Governor's trust, and spoke to Dean with great complacency.
"I see you have come to your senses, Mr. Dean," he said civilly enough, but with point. "It is about time, I think."
"As you say, about time," replied Dean, who had been greeting Edith and his son. "I have given over fighting against the injustice of the world. I was condemned, an innocent man, some twenty years ago, and I escaped from my prison in the vain hope of getting Ellen Gilmar to prove my innocence; but she is dead, and I am again in the hands of--I won't say justice, but injustice."
"But why did you kill Miss Gilmar?" asked Gebb; for Ferris and Edith sat by quietly, letting him conduct the conversation, as the most capable person.
"I did not kill Miss Gilmar," replied Dean, firmly and sadly. "God knows who sent that wicked woman to her last account, but it was not I."
"Yet you uttered a threat against her."
"I did, in my first wrath at the injustice of my sentence; but nearly twenty years of imprisonment removed revenge from my heart I came down to Kirkstone Hall not to kill her, but to implore her to tell the truth, and free me from undeserved shame. But she had fled, thinking in her guilty mind that I intended to harm her. I told Miss Wedderburn that I did not, also Ar--I mean Mr. Ferris."
"You can call him Arthur," said Gebb, coolly. "I know that he is your son."
"Is this so?" asked Dean, looking with some surprise at Ferris.
"Yes, father. I told Mr. Gebb the truth, or, rather, I admitted it, as he had already learned my relationship to you from Prain. He knows everything, and we have come to ask you to right yourself in his eyes--to confess."
"Confess, Arthur! Do you believe that I killed Kirkstone?"
"No," said Arthur, with conviction, "I do not."
"And you, Edith," said Dean, looking at the girl, "is it your opinion that I am guilty of Miss Gilmar's death?"
"No," replied Edith, in her turn. "Appearances are against you, but I truly believe you to be guiltless."
"And so I am, for----"
"Before you go on," interrupted Gebb, looking up, "I think it will be best for you to approach this matter with more particularity. Were you not at Grangebury on the night of the twenty-fourth of July?"
"Yes," admitted Dean, promptly, "I was. I went to see Mr. Basson, who had been my counsel."
"About what?"
"About the confession of Miss Gilmar."
"What!" cried Gebb, in surprise. "You found it?"
"I found it on the twentieth of July, concealed in the Yellow Boudoir, where Ellen Gilmar had hidden it. I know now who killed Kirkstone."
"Miss Laura!" cried the detective, knowing Dean's belief.
"No. Miss Gilmar herself was the murderess."
"Well, I never!" said Gebb; and looked at Edith and her lover, who were not much astonished. "And where is the confession now?"
"Mr. Alder has it," was the unexpected reply.
"Alder! Why, he believes you to be guilty. He said so several times."
"I asked him to," replied Dean, quickly; "Mr. Alder has been a good friend to me all through."
"He has been a good friend to us all," said Edith, touching Arthur's hand. "Does Mr. Alder know who you are?"
"Yes. He had been present at my trial, you know, and, in spite of my altered appearance, he recognized me on one of his visits to the Hall. I begged him to keep my secret, and he did. I asked him to talk of me as guilty, so that I might be the more effectually concealed."
"I don't see how that would help you," interrupted Gebb, sharply.
"Why not? If Alder had gone about insisting that I was innocent, you might have suspected that he had seen me lately; while by stating what everybody believed, no questions would be asked."
"True enough," said Gebb, his brow clearing. "But I confess this disjointed information of yours puzzles me not a little. Suppose you tell us the whole story from the time you first masqueraded as Mad Martin."
"Certainly," assented Dean, readily. "I intended to do so, as I wish you to help me to establish my innocence. Also, I owe it to my son and Miss Wedderburn to relate things I formerly kept from them."
"We are all attention," said Edith, and leaned forward eagerly.
"When I was feigning madness at the Hall," said Dean, glancing at his three auditors, "I was wondering all the time how I could prove my innocence of Kirkstone's murder. One night, Mrs. Grix--who had found out my true name--told me that Miss Gilmar had written a confession of the crime; and--as she believed--had hidden it in the house. She gathered this from some words let fall by Miss Gilmar. Thenceforth it became the aim of my life to find that confession; but although I looked everywhere, I could not discover it. Then Mr. Alder came visiting at the Hall, as you know, Edith, and he guessed who I was. Feeling that I could not deceive him, I confessed that I was really Marmaduke Dean, and consulted him as to the possibility of proving my innocence. Alder scoffed at the idea of a confession being in existence, as he said if Miss Gilmar were guilty, she would not put the fact down in black and white. He advised me to consult Basson, who had been my counsel, and to see if I could not be cleared; but this I was afraid to do, lest Basson should hand me over to the police."
"Oh, he would never have done that," said Gebb, remembering the personality of Basson, "he is good nature itself."
"So Alder said," continued Dean. "Still I was too afraid to venture, and remained in hiding at the Hall, thankful that Alder kept my secret I must say that in every way he acted like a true friend, for he could easily have given warning about me to the authorities."
"I wonder he did not do so for Miss Gilmar's sake," said Gebb.
"Had he deemed me guilty he would have done so," cried Dean, quickly; "but I told him the whole facts of the case, and declared that Laura, being possessed of the knife, had killed her brother. Alder in the end said he believed in my innocence, but he declined to look upon Laura as the assassin. He fancied that Miss Gilmar had committed the crime, and to shield herself, and punish me for not being in love with her, she accused me. Still, he declined to believe that she had confessed her guilt in writing. I was certain, however, from what Mrs. Grix said, that she had, and----"
"This is all very well," interrupted Gebb, quickly, "but it does not explain your visit to Grangebury."
Impatient of the interruption, Dean looked at Gebb in a quick, irritable way, like a man whose nerves are not under control; but, in his own interests, he answered quietly enough--
"I am coming to the Grangebury visit shortly," he said, "but it is necessary for me to explain what led to it, so that you may not misunderstand my reason for going there."
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Dean," replied the detective. "Pray go on."
"As I said before," continued the prisoner, "I was certain that Miss Gilmar had left a confession behind her, and after months of search I found it."
"Where?" asked Edith, much interested.
"In the Yellow Room. It was sewn into the hangings, between the satin and the lining, and, but for the particular minute search I made, would never have been discovered. I dare say Ellen Gilmar hid it thus safely so that she might not be accused of the crime in her lifetime; but no doubt when dying she intended to indicate its hiding-place, so that I might be set free and my character cleared, after she was safe from the punishment of man."
"As she is," observed Ferris, bitterly.
"Leave her to God," said Dean, slowly. "As she has sown, so shall she reap, and I wish her no worse fate. Well," continued he, "you will understand that as soon as I discovered this proof of my innocence I was bent upon clearing myself. But this was not so easy to do. I had escaped from gaol, and were I discovered would be at once taken back, when, as I fancied, the confession might go astray or prove useless. It was towards the end of July last that I found it, and I consulted Mr. Alder, who came down about the same time to visit Edith."
"Yes," said Edith, colouring. "He came to ask me again to marry him."
"Alder advised me to place the confession in the hands of Basson, and offered to take it up to him. But at the moment I was unwilling to let this proof of my innocence leave my hands, and I determined to go up to London myself and see Basson. But, thinking I might be discovered, I feared to do so--or at all events to go to Basson's office. I wrote and told Alder this, so he suggested that I should go to Grangebury, where Mr. Basson was giving a lecture, on the twenty-fourth of July, and he said I could come up late and see Mr. Basson before the lecture, place the confession in his hands with instructions what to do, and then return by a late train to Norminster. Thus, he said in his letter, I should be exposed to less risk of discovery. The advice seemed good to me, and I adopted it."
"But where did you get the money to visit London?" asked Edith. "For I never gave you any."
"I borrowed it from Mrs. Grix, and told her I was visiting a friend," explained Dean. "Also I asked her to tell you that I had gone into Norminster, in case you missed me."
"I didn't miss you at all, and there was no need for Mrs. Grix to say anything," said Miss Wedderburn. "All the same," she added reproachfully, "you might have trusted me."
"And me also," interposed Ferris. "I should have had the confession, not Basson."
"You are right," replied his father, with a sigh. "I behaved foolishly, I admit; but I acted, as I thought, for the best. On the twenty-fourth of July, by the five o'clock train, I went up to Grangebury."
"Did you know that Miss Gilmar was there?" asked Gebb, with a glance at Edith.
"No, I did not," answered Dean. "Why do you ask?"
"Because Miss Wedderburn knew of Miss Gilmar's whereabouts."
"That is true enough," responded Edith, calmly; "but I did not think it necessary at the time to tell Mr. Dean. No one but myself--and later on Arthur--knew that Miss Gilmar was lodging in Paradise Row. Continue, Mr. Dean!"
"I arrived late in Grangebury, about six o'clock, and went to a public-house, where I had some tea, and made myself as respectable as possible to go to the lecture. I intended to see Mr. Basson before it began, and then take the nine o'clock train to Norminster."
"Had you a return ticket?" asked Gebb, remembering the one found in the Yellow Room.
"Yes; a third-class return. However, in the public-house I fell asleep, being worn out with trouble and fatigue. I did not waken until it was nearly nine o'clock, and then went to the Town Hall. Mr. Basson was already on the platform, so I could not speak to him. Yet I was anxious to get back to Norminster on that night, as I did not want Edith to know I had been in London."
"But why?" said Edith. "You must have been aware that you could trust me."
"I wished you to know nothing, my dear, until Basson proved my innocence," replied Dean, sadly. "But I should have trusted you. I see it now. However, I did not go back that night, for I lost my ticket."
"Where did you lose it?" asked Gebb, eagerly, for this was a most important point.
Dean shook his head. "I can't say," he replied. "I saw Mr. Alder at the door of the Town Hall, and told him that I was going back, but gave him the confession, and asked him to show it to Basson. He tried to get me to remain, but I was bent on returning, and knew that the confession was safe in his hands. I ran to the station, but there found I had lost my ticket, where I know not. I had no money to buy another, so I went back to the Town Hall and saw Mr. Alder again about half-past nine o'clock. Then, to my surprise, I saw Edith enter the Hall."
"I had just returned from getting the necklace from Miss Gilmar," explained Edith. "I came up to Grangebury after you did."
"I did not know you were out of Kirkstone Hall," said Dean. "Well, I did not trouble to wonder why you were there; but lest you should see me I kept myself out of sight. I then explained my position to Mr. Alder. He gave me some money, and advised me to stay all night at Grangebury. I was unwilling to do so, but as the last train had left I was forced to stay. I slept in the public-house where I had been before, and left by the early train next morning."
"Did you hear of the murder before you left?"
"No, as I departed early. So you see, Mr. Gebb, I can prove an alibi; for at the time of the murder--ten o'clock it was, the paper said--I was asleep in the public-house. The keeper of it can prove that I was."
"What is the name of the public-house?"
"The Golden Hind, near the railway station."
Gebb noted this name in his pocket-book, and rose to his feet "So this is all you have to tell me?" said he, briskly.
"All!--and enough, too. I don't know who killed Ellen Gilmar. It was not I."
"If the hotel keeper can prove your alibi that will be all right, Mr. Dean. But this confession; you say Mr. Alder has it?"
"Yes. But I asked him to make no use of it," replied Dean, "for, as I was in Grangebury on the very night--about the very hour--that Ellen was murdered, I was afraid, if Alder acted on the confession, I might be accused of the second crime. Certainly I had a defence; but the evidence was so strong against me that I did not wish to risk appearing."
"Do you know who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"No!" cried Dean, vehemently, "I do not."
"Then what about these?" said Gebb, and suddenly produced the jewels of Miss Gilmar. "These ornaments belonged to the dead woman; they were taken off her body by the wretch who killed her. I found them hidden in your room at Kirkstone Hall; yet you swear that you do not know the name of the assassin. What am I to understand by this contradiction?"
"It's a plot to ruin me," said Dean, becoming very pale. "I did not know that these jewels were in my room. I never saw them before. Edith! Arthur! What do you know of this?"
"We know nothing," they said simultaneously.
"Come, Mr. Dean," said Gebb, imperiously, "these ornaments would not have been hidden in your room without your knowledge. If your alibi is to be believed you are innocent, but on this evidence you must know who is guilty."
Dean gave a long sigh, and lapsed into his old sullen manner.
"I know nothing about them," he said in a piteous tone; "some one must have put them there. I don't know who. I have told you the truth, but even that will not help one, and I shall be condemned for the second time--an innocent man. Oh, God is cruel--cruel!" and the tears ran down his cheeks.
After that there was little more to be said. The old man was ill and feeble. For the moment he had braced himself to tell his story, and the hope of being righted had given him unnatural strength; but now that all was told, Nature claimed her own, and Dean fell back on his bed thoroughly exhausted. Ferris desired to stay beside his father, but when the warder came back they would not permit this, and in the end the three left the prison. In the street Gebb turned to speak a few words to Edith before leaving for town, as he had decided to do.
"What are your intentions?" he asked.
"I shall stay here until to-morrow," she replied. "I am too exhausted to return to London to-night But I must go up in the morning, as I promised to see Mr. Alder."
"Alder?" repeated Gebb, who had half forgotten the man; "how is he?"
"Very ill--dying, they say; and he sent for me to see him. I could not go to-day, as I came here with Arthur to see what had been done about his father. Do you think he is innocent?"
"Yes, I do," replied Gebb; "but I am puzzled about the jewels. I cannot help thinking that Dean knows something about them; but he won't speak."
"He may to-morrow morning," said Ferris, quickly. "I think he is too exhausted to-night to remember much more. His memory has been severely taxed to-day, you know. I shall speak to him to-morrow, and whatever he tells me I shall tell you, Mr. Gebb."
"Very well," replied Gebb, dubiously, and walked briskly to the railway station, as he was anxious to reach London, to see Parge and tell him what he had discovered.
Also, he desired the advice of Parge regarding the jewels, for despite Arthur's promise, he did not trust him altogether. The young man had deceived him before, and should occasion arise might do so again. So Gebb determined to act independently of anything which might be said by Dean in the morning. He was surrounded on all sides by people who, with their own ends to gain, were more or less unscrupulous, so it behoved him to be wary. Otherwise, he would never pluck out the heart of this mystery.
On arriving in town Gebb went to his office, and there found three letters for him. Two, from the station-master and the ticket-clerk of Norminster Station, were corroborative of Dean's visit to town on the evening of the twenty-fourth of July; for both stated that Mad Martin, the gardener of Kirkstone Hall, had purchased a return ticket, and had left for London by the five o'clock train. But knowing what he did, this evidence came too late to enlighten Gebb in any degree, so he tossed the letters aside and opened the third one. It proved to be from Parge, requesting him to call and see him at once on important business concerning the Grangebury murder case, these latter words being underlined.
"He has found out something," thought Gebb. "I wonder what it is? another mare's-nest, I expect. However, we'll see. I'll call to-morrow."
At ten o'clock next morning he was in Pimlico, and in the presence of Mr. Parge, who received him with a look of subdued triumph.
"Well, Absalom," said he, "have you discovered who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"No, I haven't, Simon; have you?"
"Yes. I found out the truth from--who do you think?"
"I don't know," said Gebb, impatiently. "Mrs. Presk, perhaps."
"No, not from the mistress, but from the maid--Matilda Crane."
Gebb looked at the ex-detective in amazement. "Why, what did she know about it?"
"She knew who visited Miss Gilmar on the night of the murder. I said you had not examined that girl properly, Absalom, so I sent for her to put a few questions myself. Then I discovered that she had found, cast into the grate among other papers, a letter written by the assassin to Miss Gilmar. Here it is."
Gebb took the bit of paper handed to him, and read as follows:--
"Dear Miss Gilmar,
"I wish to see you on the evening of the 24th July, between nine and ten o'clock, about some information touching Dean. Get rid of every one in the house at that time, and expect me for certain. It will be better for us to be alone. Burn this.
"Yours truly, "John Alder."
"Alder!" repeated Gebb, in amazement; "Alder!"
"Yes! it was Alder who murdered that wretched woman."
Gebb quite agreed with Parge, regarding the guilt of Alder; and on looking back over the collective evidence, he wondered that he had not suspected him before. No wonder he had come forward to defend Ferris: for bad as he was, the man had some conscience, and did not wish to see a guiltless person hanged for his crime, even though that person was his rival in love. What Gebb could not understand was, why Alder had been so kind to Dean; and it was to ascertain this, amongst other things, that he left Parge as soon as he was able, and went off to Alder's rooms. The man was dying; and for the clearance of all persons concerned in the matter, it was absolutely necessary that he should make a confession of his guilt, even at the eleventh hour.
"I could tell you much that I have discovered," said Gebb, slipping the incriminating letter into his pocket, "but as Alder is dying there is no time to be lost in getting him to confess."
"I agree with you," replied Parge, promptly. "I knew that he was dying, as I saw an account of his accident in the papers. Get him to confess, and for that purpose take Mr. Basson with you as a witness; then come back to me, and tell me everything. I wish to write out all details concerning this very extraordinary case, and put the report in my collection."
"It certainly merits it," replied Gebb, putting on his hat, "and I dare say this confession will be the most wonderful of all. By the way, why did not the servant give up this letter before?"
"Because she is a cunning, artful little minx!" burst out Parge, in great wrath, "and wished to make money over it. She found it, as I told you, while cleaning out the grate, when the room was stripped by Alder. The letter was torn across, as Miss Gilmar evidently did not think it worth while to adopt Alder's advice and burn it. It was lucky she did not, or her death would have gone unavenged; as it is----"
"As it is, the man will escape the law," interrupted Gebb, "but I dare say he'll be punished somehow. I'm sure he deserves to be. Did Mrs. Presk know of 'Tilda's discovery?"
"No! 'Tilda kept the discovery to herself, and intended to sell her information to the highest bidder. It took me two hours to wring the truth and the letter out of her; but I did in the end, and for the evidence I paid her five pounds."
"I've no doubt Miss Wedderburn will pay you when she comes into the estate."
"What, the five pounds!" exclaimed Parge, wrathfully. "Why, I expect the reward."
"But the reward was to be paid by Alder himself," argued Gebb; "and although it was a blind, you can hardly expect the man to pay for his own detection."
"His next heir must pay it!" said the ex-detective, doggedly.
"Miss Wedderburn is the next heir."
"Then I'll apply to her," cried Parge, "I'm going to be paid for my trouble."
"Seems to me, Simon, I've had all the trouble," said Gebb, dryly. "You've sat in your armchair and done nothing."
"I've found out the truth, if you call that nothing!" retorted Parge, growing red. "I've used my brains, which is more than you have done. There is life in the old dog yet, Absalom!"
"And temper also," rejoined Gebb, who was rather sore about the reward "Eh, Simon? Well! well! We'll argue the matter hereafter. I must go to Alder."
"Don't forget to take Basson!"
"No, I won't. But if you are right about Alder, you are wrong about Dean; he did not kill Kirkstone."
"Then who did?" grunted Parge, rather displeased.
"Miss Gilmar herself!" retorted Gebb, and departed swiftly, leaving to his friend this--to him--indigestible morsel.
Parge raged a trifle after Gebb had gone, as he did not like to be put in the wrong; but when he recollected his triumph in the new murder case, he was quite content to set it against his failure in the old one. So he sat placidly in his armchair, and enjoyed his success, and the prospect of getting two hundred pounds with so little trouble. All of which was satisfactory to his wife also; as it kept Parge in a good temper for one entire day, a state of things which was little less than miraculous in that frequently disturbed household.
In the mean time Gebb, with a desperate fear in his heart that he might be too late, went as quick as a hansom could travel to Basson's rooms. Keeping the cab at the door, he ran up the long staircase so quickly that he arrived at the top with failing breath and beating heart. The perennial legend, "Back in five minutes," was still on the barrister's door, and Gebb on knocking was again greeted by the boy in the small suit. This latter admitted that his master was at home, but stated that he could not be seen.
"'Cos he ain't well," explained Cerberus; "he's had a shock!"
"What kind of a shock? An accident?" asked Gebb.
"No," replied the boy, after some consideration, "not that sort of shock. Quite another kind."
"Well, I'm sorry to disturb Mr. Basson," said Gebb, "but you must take him my card and tell him that I must see him. It's a matter of life and death."
The boy still seemed unwilling, but Gebb thrust the card into his hand, and insisted; so in the end it was taken to Basson. In less than a minute Cerberus returned with the information that his master would see Mr. Gebb at once. With a nod the detective stepped into the dingy inner office, and found Mr. Basson with his arms on the mantelpiece, and his head bent down on them in an attitude of dejection. When he heard the footstep of his visitor--and firm, quick, business-like footsteps they were--he turned slowly, and displayed a very pale face and eyes so red that they looked as though he had been crying.
"What is the matter?" asked Gebb, rather taken aback by this evidence of grief.
"I've had a shock," replied Basson, using the very same words as his small clerk had done.
"Nothing serious, I hope?"
"Serious in one way, not in another. Still, I am glad to see you. If you had not come to me I should have paid you a visit in the course of the day. You have a right to know."
"Know what?" demanded Gebb, beginning to feel uncomfortable; he knew not why.
"That Alder is dead."
"Dead!" Gebb, with a burst of anger unusual in one of his self-control, dashed his hat on the floor. "By----!" he used a strong word, "so he has escaped me after all!"
"What!" cried Basson, leaning forward in the chair he had flung himself into. "You know?"
"I know that Alder killed Miss Gilmar; I heard it this morning. I have the evidence of his own handwriting to prove his guilt. When did you hear of it? How did you hear of it?"
"I heard all about it at eight o'clock this morning, shortly before Alder died."
"Then he confessed his crime?"
"He did. I was sent for at seven o'clock at his particular request, and he told me the whole story. In order to clear any innocent person who might be suspected, I wrote down what he said, and got him to sign it. The doctor and myself were the witnesses, and the confession is locked in my desk yonder. I was coming round to your office later on in order to place it in your hands. How did you find out the truth?"
"It's a long story, Mr. Basson. I'll tell it to you some other time. But I learned that he killed his cousin, and I came here to get you to go with me, and force him to confess."
"He did so voluntarily," said Basson, sadly, "and made what reparation he could for his wickedness. Do you wonder that I received a shock, Mr. Gebb? It was terrible to hear a man I had known so long, whom I had liked so much, confess himself a murderer."
"It is terrible, I grant you," replied Gebb, somewhat moved by the grief of the old Bohemian. "I should never have thought it of him myself, as is proved by the fact that I never suspected him. He seemed a kindly, honest, pleasant gentleman. Perhaps, however, there is the excuse that he did the deed in a fit of rage. From what I have heard of Miss Gilmar she was a woman to irritate an archangel."
Basson shook his head. "There is not even that excuse," he said. "The crime was committed in cold blood. He planned and carried it out in the most ruthless manner."
"But why in Heaven's name did he desire the death of his wretched cousin?"
"Money, Mr. Gebb--money. Alder was desperately hard up--on the verge of bankruptcy; and as his cousin refused to help him, he killed her. To gain her wealth was the motive of the act. Well," added Basson, with a sigh, "he did not enjoy his ill-gotten gains long, for in the midst of his prosperity the hand of God struck him down."
"You have the confession, you say?"
"Here it is!" Basson unlocked the drawer of his desk, and took out a sheet, or, to be precise, several sheets of paper, and handed them to Gebb. The detective turned to the end, saw the three signatures, then slipped the papers into his pocket.
"It will take too long reading this just now," he said apologetically, "and I have much to do. Will you be so kind, Mr. Basson, as to tell me the facts in your own way? I am curious to know how so many people concerned in the case came to be collected in Grangebury on the night of the murder."
"Alder collected them," said Basson, nodding; "he planned the whole affair in a most wonderful manner, so as to throw suspicion of the crime on every one but himself. Had he lived he would have escaped all suspicion."
"I think not," replied Gebb, feeling for the letter he had received from Parge; "his own handwriting would have committed him. This is one of those little accidents which mar the plans of the most accomplished criminals. However, that is neither here nor there. Let me hear the confession."
Basson thought for a moment, then began. "It seems that Miss Wedderburn was not the only person Miss Gilmar wrote to; she corresponded also with Alder about business matters, for, as she had left her property to him by will, she did not think that he would betray her to Dean. As a matter of fact, she was simply putting temptation in the man's way, for Alder was desperately hard up, and was looking forward to the time when he would come into possession of Miss Gilmar's money. However, she did not know that, and kept him advised of her changes of address."
"Did he know that she was in Grangebury?"
"Oh yes; but he did not visit her there, for already he was thinking of getting rid of her by violent means. The difficulty was how to do it without incriminating himself. Then two accidents helped him. The first was that while on a visit to Kirkstone, Edith told him that she was bent on getting the necklace for Arthur Ferris, and was going up to Grangebury on the evening of the twenty-fourth of July to get it. Ferris, she said, was to escort her. Later on, while Alder was still in the hall, Dean told how he had discovered Miss Gilmar's confession, and wished to give it to me. He was afraid, however, to come to my office lest he should be recognized. Afterwards Alder induced me to lecture at Grangebury, and wrote to Dean telling him to come up and see me there. Then he gave Ferris tickets for my lecture, and told him he could wait for Miss Wedderburn in the Town Hall, while she went to see Miss Gilmar. So now you see, Mr. Gebb, that on the twenty-fourth of July Alder had these three people likely to be suspected on the spot."
"A very ingenious idea," said Gebb. "I suppose he didn't care on whom suspicion fell?"
"I don't think he did," admitted Basson, candidly; "but he preferred to be guided by circumstances, and he really wanted the suspicion to fall upon Dean, as he had threatened to kill Miss Gilmar. Well, you know about Arthur and Edith."
"Yes, I know that he waited in the Town Hall, and that she got the necklace and joined him later, and that they both returned to London. Also, I know that Dean came up, and as he was too late to see you, gave the confession to Alder. But I don't know how Alder managed to get away from the hall without suspicion."
"Oh, that was easy," replied Basson. "He was busy seeing after the tickets on my behalf, and looking at the house; so none of the attendants knew where he was at the moment, but believed him to be in another part of the Town Hall. When Edith came back with the necklace he sent her into the hall, and got rid of Dean, who had missed his train, by giving him money and telling him to stay all night in Grangebury--a fact which favoured his plans; then the coast being clear, he went alone to Paradise Row shortly before ten o'clock, and saw Miss Gilmar. In accordance with his instructions she was alone in the house, as she had sent Mrs. Presk and 'Tilda to my lecture."
"She admitted him?"
"Yes, and locked the door after he was inside; but he did not see where she hid the key. He then told her that Dean had found the confession, and Miss Gilmar, as you may guess, was in a great state. She immediately, with her usual superstition, got out the cards, to see what would happen."
"And she turned up the death-card?"
"Yes. How do you know?"
"Because I found it in her lap."
"Yes," said Basson again, "she picked up the death-card, and while gazing at it in horror Alder, who was striding about the room smoking, slipped behind her, and with a cord torn from the nearest curtain, strangled her. He then robbed her of all her jewels and slipped them into his pocket. Then he tried to get out, but found the doors locked, and did not know where the keys were."
"Mrs. Presk had the key of the back door, and Miss Gilmar that of the front," said Gebb.
"Quite so; but Alder did not know that. He did not dare to get out by the window, lest he should be taken for a burglar, and arrested; so he stepped down to the kitchen and waited till Mrs. Presk came home. He heard her go upstairs and then call 'Tilda, so that he knew the crime had been discovered. When the servant went up to the Yellow Boudoir, Alder ran out of the back door, and returned to the Town Hall. The people in charge of the money and tickets thought that he had been with me, I fancied he had been with them, and as no inquiries were made, you see nobody could guess that he had been away and had committed a crime."
"And why did he leave the jewels in Dean's room at Kirkstone Hall?"
"Ah, you know that?" said Basson, much surprised. "Why, he hid them so as to throw the blame on Dean. Everything was suspicious against the man. He was presumably guilty of the first crime, he had threatened to kill Miss Gilmar, he was in Grangebury on the night of the murder, and the jewels--as Alder arranged--were to be found in his room."
"They were found," said Gebb. "I found them, and for the moment believed Dean guilty. But about that ticket found in the Yellow Boudoir?"
"That was purposely dropped there by Alder to further incriminate Dean."
"How did he get the ticket?"
"In giving the confession it fell out of Dean's pocket, and Alder picked it up. So you see, Mr. Gebb, that in every way chance played into Alder's hands."
"'The wicked flourish like a green bay tree'; but not for long," said Gebb, grimly. "But tell me. Why was Alder so kind to Ferris?"
"Oh, that was his deceit," said Basson, with a sigh. "He fancied that when Dean was accused of this second murder Edith would never marry Ferris, as being the son of such a man. He was kind to him because he wanted to ingratiate himself with Edith: so that she might marry him after parting, as he thought she would, with Ferris."
"Infernal scamp!" cried Gebb, swearing, "when he knew that the poor devil was innocent. Have you Miss Gilmar's confession?"
"Here it is; Alder gave it to me. It clears Dean entirely, so I suppose he'll receive a free pardon."
"I suppose so," said Gebb, putting the confession of Miss Gilmar into his pocket along with that of Alder. "But his life is ruined. I'm only sorry for one thing: that Alder did not live to be hanged."
"Well, I cannot agree with you; after all, he was my friend," said Basson, sadly.
"He was a blackguard," retorted Gebb, and took his departure.