It certainly was not an easy task to come to a conclusion about Miss Pearl. Ralph took her for a beautiful, amiable, stupid woman, narrowed by her early training into a perfect specimen of what a wife should be--that is, a wife to an ordinary British Philistine. But Sir Joseph was not a prim, conventional man after the style of a suburban clerk, but a clever individual who knew how to use his brains. He might certainly admire Miss Pearl for her calm maternal beauty, but Shawe was satisfied that he could not possibly tolerate such a milk-and-water character. Miss Pearl was more suitable to be the wife of a Sunday-school teacher than the second Lady Branwin.
And this consideration brought the barrister round to wonder if Miss Pearl had not been playing a very clever game with him. He had been with her for quite an hour, and all the time she had been so taken up with telling him about herself that he had not been able to cross-examine her. In a dexterous manner she had contrived to keep him at arm's length, and he left the quiet Bloomsbury house about as wise as when he entered it.
Considerably puzzled over the present aspect of affairs, the young man sought out Perry Toat, and described his visit to Miss Pearl. He also repeated what Audrey had overheard as passing between Badoura and Eddy Vail.
Miss Toat listened in silence, and her shrewd little eyes twinkled. "It's really a most puzzling case," she said at length. "Of course, this clue of the scent is a very slight one to go by. Sir Joseph is fond of this especial kind of cloth, and probably asked Miss Pearl to favour him by having a dress made of the same material. But Eddy Vail might also have a suit of the cloth, and he might be the person who lurked in the passage."
"I think he must be guilty myself," said Ralph, insistently, "for if he was innocent he certainly would not have altered the clock."
"Quite so. Let us consider the matter. Now, my theory--"
"I beg your pardon, Miss Toat," interrupted Shawe, rather crossly, "but I am a trifle tired of your theories; they lead to nothing."
Miss Toat was not at all put out. "Oh, to theorise is the only way to get at the truth of the matter. One may have a dozen theories, and then can abandon each one in turn as it seems improbable. Let me conduct this business in my own way, Mr. Shawe."
"Well"--Ralph resigned himself to what seemed to him to be a futile discussion--"let us have your latest theory."
"Bearing in mind what Badoura said about the clock being wrong, and Eddy Vail being the husband of Madame Coralie, I think he is the sole person who had any reason to have a skeleton key made for the door in the wall of the court. Probably he wished to enter and leave the house at his convenience without bothering his wife."
"But what would be the use of his entering the court," objected Shawe, "seeing that he could not get into the house? The door was always locked."
"Yes, and the key was usually on a nail in the still-room," said Perry Toat, cleverly. "I found that out when I was staying at the Pink Shop for treatment. Eddy Vail could easily have taken that key when he chose, and have opened the inner door; then he got a key made for the outer door, and thus would be free of the house."
"But this is all imagination, Miss Toat."
"I am only constructing a theory on the evidence. Let us admit that things are as I say. Well, then, on the night Eddy Vail either had both keys in his pocket or only one--that of the outer door. For some reason quite unconnected with Lady Branwin's stay--since he could not have known of it--he entered the court at the time Madame Coralie was in the bedroom with her patient. Looking through the window he would see the diamonds produced, which Madame Coralie--as you declare--says that Lady Branwin gave her. Madame Coralie put Lady Branwin to bed, and the diamonds were replaced in the red bag under the pillow. Then Madame Coralie left the room, say at ten minutes to eight o'clock, whereupon Eddy Vail scrambled in at the window and strangled the woman. He takes the jewels out of the bag and puts them into his pocket; then, to lose no time, he leaves by the bedroom door, and runs up the stairs to the still-room, arriving there at five minutes to the hour, in order to put back the clock to half-past seven. Thirty odd minutes later Madame Coralie, who has been in the shop, comes up, and Eddy draws her attention to the time as five minutes past eight. But, as we now know, it is really close on half-past eight. Madame Coralie goes down at once to see Miss Branwin, to say that her mother will stop for the night, and this will bring the time to that mentioned by Miss Branwin as the hour she arrived at Walpole Lane on her way to the theatre. Afterwards Eddy Vail goes out by the street door, and returns to the court to drop the label and to leave the key in the lock of the court wall door, so as to encourage the idea of burglars. What do you think of that?"
"It's a very feasible theory," said Ralph, after a pause, "but it falls to the ground in the face of Madame Coralie's admission that Lady Branwin gave her the jewels."
"It only makes her an accomplice after the fact," said Perry Toat, cheerfully.
Ralph shook his head. "She would not approve of the murder of her own sister, Miss Toat," he said gently.
"Yes, you hinted something about the two women being sisters. I forget exactly what you said, as I have been so busy with the case of Colonel Ilse and his missing daughter. I am trying to find a photograph of the hospital nurse who stole the child, you know. Tell me exactly the relationship and all about it. I shall listen carefully."
Shawe related all that he knew, and the little woman nodded her head.
"This, of course, complicates matters. Still, it does not exonerate Madame Coralie. She is not a straight woman."
"What do you mean?"
"Never mind. Since you are to marry Miss Branwin, my advice to you is to keep her away from Madame Coralie. I know something about her."
"Something bad?"
"Very bad."
"What is it?" asked Shawe, with considerable curiosity.
"Oh, don't ask me just now," said Perry Toat, impatiently. "I shall tell you when I am more certain. Meanwhile, go and get your special licence and marry Miss Branwin. The sooner she is out of that Pink Shop the better."
"I agree with you," said Ralph, drily, as he stood up to take his leave; "but while I am on my honeymoon, I wish you to examine into the truth of Miss Pearl's statement that she was asleep the whole time. Also, as to the reason why Sir Joseph was in Walpole Lane on that night."
Perry Toat looked at him suddenly. "You have a theory also?" she said sharply.
"Well"--Ralph drew on his gloves slowly--"it seems to me that Sir Joseph, who knew that his wife was staying at the Pink Shop, might have enlisted the services of Eddy Vail, and have borrowed that key you mention. He might have entered the court and have strangled his wife, while sending Eddy Vail upstairs to put the clock wrong. He could easily have strangled his wife and have left again by the court door to come round to Walpole Lane. Thus he would be able to prove an alibi."
"I don't think so," said Miss Toat, thoughtfully; "for, although the clock in the still-room was wrong, Mrs. Mellop, who saw him, knew the correct time. She would know that he was in the lane at half-past eight and not at eight, which was the time Lady Branwin was strangled. I don't think much of your theory, Mr. Shawe. As well say that Miss Pearl, learning that her rival was in the house, might have crept down to kill her, wearing that Harris tweed frock you mentioned."
"She might have done so," said Ralph, bluntly; "but I am certain of one thing, that either she or Sir Joseph were in that passage about nine o'clock when Parizade came down for her lover's present."
"In that case Sir Joseph is innocent, as he had left the house," said Miss Toat, triumphantly. "Well, well, it's all theory, as you say. But one thing is certain, that Eddy Vail knows something or he would not have provided himself with an alibi by putting the clock wrong. I shall see him."
Ralph shook his head. "He won't speak."
"Oh!"--Perry Toat looked wise--"I shall frighten him and Badoura into speaking. Go away on your honeymoon, and don't worry. I shall attend to the matter during your absence."
The young barrister thought that this was a very fair division of labour, and took his departure. There was no difficulty, now that he had ample funds, in procuring a special licence. With this in his pocket he went to the vicar of a Kensington church and arranged for the marriage to take place next day at a certain hour. Having settled this important point he wrote a note to Lady Sanby, and then took his way to the Pink Shop. It was necessary to see Audrey in order to explain what he had done. After some difficulty Madame Coralie agreed that he should speak to Audrey in her presence in the Pink Shop, and sent the four assistants upstairs to the still-room, so that the lovers might converse undisturbed.
The hour was eight o'clock, and the shop was closed. Only a pink-shaded lamp hanging in one of the alcoves shed a rosy light over the anxious faces of Audrey and Ralph, on which--very naturally--recent events had left their marks. Near them stood Madame Coralie, wearing her yashmak. She looked a weird figure in the delicate light, muffled up and swathed in her Turkish dress with many veils. Her eyes watched the pair attentively, and she signified her approval of the barrister's scheme for an immediate marriage.
"It is the very best thing you can do," she said, in her harsh voice; but there was a catch in her voice as she spoke. "It will never do for Audrey to stay with me here, as people are talking about the shop. Not that there is anything wrong," said Madame Coralie, drawing herself up proudly, "for I have always kept it highly respectable. But I think that Audrey should go."
"It's so sudden," faltered the girl.
"We cannot help that," rejoined Ralph, soothing her; "your father has, so to speak, forced our hand. At present you are in a very awkward position, if it were known that you have left your father and taken refuge with Madame Coralie. Even the excuse for figure-treatment will not serve with some women--especially venomous cats like Mrs. Mellop. But as my wife--"
"Your wife!" said Audrey, under her breath. "Oh! Ralph, I should love to be your wife. But I have no clothes."
"Yes you have," said her aunt, suddenly. "Your father sent all your boxes this evening. You see, he is determined that you shall not re-enter your old home, my dear. Better become Mrs. Shawe without further delay."
"Audrey, do say yes," urged the young man, impatiently. "You must see in what a difficult position you are placed."
"Well, then, yes," said the girl, and Ralph kissed her.
So it was arranged, and Ralph took a long farewell of the girl who was to be his wife on the morrow. Madame Coralie accompanied him to the door. "I must ask you to be kind to Audrey, Mr. Shawe," she said softly; "make up to her for all the unhappiness she has undergone."
"Audrey and I will be as happy as the day is long," said Shawe, with a gay laugh, for he felt that a weight was removed from his mind by the girl's reluctant consent to the ceremony.
The next day Ralph arrived at the Kensington church with Lady Sanby, and shortly afterwards Audrey, quietly dressed, made her appearance, to be eagerly welcomed by the fairy godmother. Lady Sanby kissed her fondly, and tears came into the poor girl's eyes, for she valued sympathy and had received very little of it during her short life.
"Child, child, this will never do," said Lady Sanby, wiping away the tears with her own handkerchief. "A bride must not weep; it's unlucky."
"Nothing can be unlucky while I am with Ralph," sobbed Audrey; "but if you knew, Lady Sanby--"
"My dear, I know everything. Ralph has told me all. And now you had better get married at once, as time is passing."
Shawe returned at this moment, and then the vicar made his appearance in his surplice. It was an exceedingly quiet wedding. Lady Sanby gave the bride away, and the verger was one of the witnesses to the ceremony. A few idlers had, as usual, collected in the body of the church, and commented on the good looks of the bride, but the female portion of the idlers admired the handsome bridegroom. When the knot was safely tied Ralph kissed his wife, and this example was followed by Lady Sanby.
"And now, dear, you can call me grannie," said the old dame, which was a wonderful mark of favour to be shown, as Audrey well knew.
But Lady Sanby's kindness did not stop here. She took the young couple to a fashionable restaurant and gave them a wedding-breakfast, and finally drove them in her motor to the railway station, whence they departed for a quiet seaside town on the south coast. When the train started, and the married pair were alone, Audrey threw herself into Ralph's arms.
"Oh, darling, I am happy at last," she said. "Let us forget the past."
But although Ralph kissed her and agreed, he knew that Perry Toat was yet working at the Pink Shop mystery.
Weed-on-the-Sands is a quiet little watering-place on the south coast in the county of Sussex. Round the original fishing-village a flourishing town of villas and shops has grown, and as it is reached only by a branch line from the main trunk railway it is rarely overcrowded. In fact, a select number of invalids and holiday-makers come to Weed-on-the-Sands every year for cure and enjoyment. The general public find the place too quiet, as the tiny town has no bandstand, or esplanade, or entertainments of any kind whatsoever. There are smooth sands, with seaweed-covered rocks--hence the odd name of the resort--a rude jetty, which stretches out some little distance into deep water, and one or two or three crooked streets, which are united with the wider and straighter thoroughfares of the new town. A prettier or quieter or more agreeable place could scarcely be found in England, and certainly not on the south coast.
To this miniature Eden Mr. and Mrs. Shawe came to pass their honeymoon, and took rooms at an old-fashioned inn, called the Three Fishers. The landlady was a buxom widow belonging to the Dickens era, and having a sympathy with lovers, or, rather, with newly-married couples, she made them extremely comfortable. Audrey and her husband greatly enjoyed the peace after the exciting events in which they had so lately taken part. They wandered on the sands and drove about the surrounding country, and found, more than ever, that they were all in all to one another. After a week of this dwelling in Paradise the doings of the last few months became more dreamlike and endurable. To poor Audrey this atmosphere of peace and sympathy and love was like a forecast of heaven.
"I wish it would last for ever," she said, when they sat one morning on the rocks at the far end of the sandy beach.
"It will last all our lives," murmured the happy husband, who was lying at her feet with his head on her lap.
Mrs. Shawe looked doubtful. "I don't think so," she said seriously. "We must go back to the world, Ralph, and then our troubles will begin again."
"Well, we can bear them, dearest, so long as we have one another. Besides, I don't see why we should have further trouble. We shan't be rich, certainly, but I daresay we'll manage to keep a tiny flat and one servant. Then while I am working you can stay at home and look after the house. Lady Sanby, as the fairy godmother, will take us into what society we need."
"I don't think we'll need any," replied Audrey, gazing at the bright blue sea that sparkled in the sunshine. "I would rather stay at home night after night with you."
"But, my dear, you would weary of such tame domesticity."
"No I wouldn't, Ralph. All my life I have wanted real sympathy and love, and I have never had any, save from my poor dear mother, who was always kind. It will be a joy to feel that I am at peace, safe in the shelter of your arms."
"Dear," said Ralph, kissing the wrist of the arm which lay round his neck, "I shall do all a man can do to make you really happy. Then, I take it," he added, with some hesitation, "that you have given up all idea of searching into the mystery of your mother's death?"
"I think so," rejoined Audrey, slowly. "Because I am afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That I may find papa is the criminal. After what you have told me, it seems to me--but I may be quite wrong--that either papa or Rosy Pearl is responsible for the death. Oh!"--she shuddered--"it's too horrible."
"I don't agree with you, Audrey. To my mind Eddy Vail is the assassin. However, Perry Toat has no doubt seen him by this time, and when we return to London she will have some news for us."
Mrs. Shawe frowned and hugged her knees as she stared at the sea-line. "I really think that it would be best to leave the whole thing alone."
"As I said in my anonymous letter?"
"Yes, you were right in saying what you did. If my father is proved to be guilty it will indeed be the greatest grief of my life. I have no reason to love him, but it seems terrible that he should be a--"
"My darling, you have no proof that he committed the deed. I tell you that Eddy Vail, if anyone, is the guilty person. He altered the time of the still-room clock, and that in itself says volumes."
"All the same, I wish the case to be stopped," said Audrey, doggedly; and from this decision Ralph could not move her. Privately he was pleased, as he was weary of the whole sordid business, and did not wish his early married life to be encumbered with criminal cases.
"I shall see Perry Toat when I return to London and tell her not to bother any more about the matter," he said, sitting up.
It was just at this moment, by one of those odd coincidences not uncommon in life, that Miss Perry Toat made her appearance from behind the rocks. She appeared so pat to the moment, and so suddenly upon the mention of her name, that Ralph almost believed she had been listening behind the rocks for the dramatic moment of appearance. But it seemed from her very first speech that this was not the case.
"Good-day, Mr. Shawe--good-morning, Mrs. Shawe," said Perry Toat, looking more like a sharp little rat than ever. "I just came down this morning from London by the early train, and guessing that you would be on the beach, I came in search of you. Your voices attracted me as I was poking about the rocks, so here I am."
"Yes, here you are," said Ralph, rather glumly.
"You don't seem pleased to see me," said Miss Toat, drily.
"Would any man on his honeymoon be pleased to see a detective?" he retorted; then he laughed, and looked at his wife. "What do you say, Audrey?"
The girl flushed. "I say now what I said before, that I wish the whole case to drop," she said, with a frown.
"It is impossible to drop it now, Mrs. Shawe," replied Perry Toat, in a quiet voice. "In your own interests it is necessary that the matter should be gone into. I am sorry to interrupt your honeymoon, but what I have found out left me no alternative but to come down and report progress."
"What have you discovered?" asked Ralph, eagerly. And even Audrey, in spite of her late speech, seemed anxious to hear what the little woman had to say.
But Miss Toat did not seem very ready to satisfy their curiosity. Sitting down on the rocks she tucked her feet under her, and produced a cigarette. When this was lighted she began to smoke and went on talking, as if the barrister had not asked a pertinent question.
"Besides, I am too anxious to earn that thousand pounds to drop the case," she said quietly. "I am in love as well as you are, Mrs. Shawe, and I can only marry if I get this money."
Audrey shuddered. "I should not like a dowry earned in that way," she said.
"Why not? I am on the side of justice, and it is right to hunt down criminals who vex law-abiding citizens. My profession is a glorious one, although it is looked at askance. However, when I marry Edwin--he is a purser on a liner--I shall give up hunting for criminals. The arrest of Lady Branwin's murderer will be my last achievement in this line."
Ralph glanced at Audrey, and she looked down at her husband. The same thought was in the minds of both. It was Shawe who put it into words.
"Can you expect a man to supply a reward for his own capture?" asked the young man.
Perry Toat raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean? Oh, I see," and she laughed softly. "Set your mind at rest, Mrs. Shawe. I do not believe that your father is guilty." She paused for effect, then added, calmly: "I have seen Miss Rosy Pearl."
Ralph threw away his cigarette with an ejaculation. "Oh! and did she tell you the truth?"
"She told me a great deal which I shall impart to you gradually. Her--"
"One moment," interrupted Ralph, hurriedly, "tell me your opinion of her. Is she really a stupid woman, or is that stupidity feigned?"
"You ask me a hard question," said the little woman, gravely. "She is stupid in many ways; but she has a cunning, protective instinct, like that of many animals with small brain power. And this cunning is cleverly masked by her apparent simplicity."
"Ah!" said the barrister, significantly, "then she was really in the passage on that night?"
"Yes, she was; but she wore a long rough cloak of Harris tweed which Sir Joseph had presented to her. She was therefore right when she denied to you, Mr. Shawe, that she had worn the dress."
"A kind of half truth and half lie?"
"Quite so. But I threatened to set Inspector Lanton to question her unless she was frank with me. She is in deadly terror of publicity, lest it should harm the spotless reputation she is so proud of. For this reason, and because I said that I would not make her confidence too public, she told me what she knew."
"Then I understand," said Shawe, quietly, "that she is not guilty? If she were you would not have given such a promise."
"She is certainly not guilty, to my mind," said Perry Toat, after a pause; "although other people might think different. Judge for yourself, Mr. Shawe."
"Tell us what she said, and then we can judge," remarked Audrey, quickly.
Perry Toat nodded. "Rosy Pearl was sleeping in an upstairs bedroom on that night. She was there for treatment, but found it impossible to sleep because the night was so warm. She therefore sat at the open window, which looks out on to the court, and for the sake of keeping the draught away--this is an important point--she concealed herself behind the curtain. The night was luminous, as it was summer, so in the half gloom she saw the outer door set in the wall of the court open and a man come in."
Audrey and Ralph both uttered an exclamation simultaneously. "Who was the man?" asked the barrister, hurriedly.
"Miss Pearl could not tell me, as it was too dark to see the man's face. She saw him steal round the court, apparently coming to the door which gave admission into the house. She naturally did not know of the door; but as the man disappeared from her gaze she thought that he must have entered the house. For the moment she thought it strange; but not knowing that the door of the court was kept locked she concluded that someone connected with the Pink Shop had simply entered the house."
Ralph nodded. "It was natural that she should not suspect anything. A man's entrance in that commonplace way would not look suspicious to a woman who was ignorant of the constantly-locked door. Well--"
"Well," pursued the detective, slowly, "Miss Pearl grew tired of sitting at the window, and went to bed. Here, according to her story, she fell asleep "--Perry Toat looked queerly at the young couple as she said this--"but later she awakened, thinking something was wrong."
"What did she mean by that, exactly?" asked Ralph, bluntly.
"She simply said that she had a feeling that something was wrong. It was about nine o'clock, or shortly after. She could not--so she said--be quite sure of the exact hour. However, she flung on the Harris tweed cloak and went down in the darkness. On hearing Parizade descend--although she did not know it was Parizade--she ran to the farthest end of the passage and crouched on the floor. Parizade, who, being blind, moved easily in the darkness, then went up the stairs again."
"But why should Miss Pearl hesitate to address her?" demanded Audrey.
"And why should she think anything was wrong?" asked Ralph.
Perry Toat hesitated. "I shall answer those questions later," she said, after a reflective pause. "You must let me tell my story in my own way, as it is not an easy one to tell."
Ralph nodded. "Go on. We are at your disposal."
"Miss Pearl," pursued the detective, "thinking the man might have no right to be in the house, went along the passage and looked into every bedroom. She had a box of matches with her, and struck a light in each room. Thus she found Lady Branwin dead, and, assured of this stole up the stairs again."
"Without giving the alarm?" cried Ralph, astonished.
"Ask yourself," said Perry Toat, vehemently, "what you would have done under the circumstances. Sir Joseph admired Miss Pearl, and wished his wife out of the way so that he could marry her. Miss Pearl recognised Lady Branwin at once, as she had often seen her in the Park and other places. She guessed if she gave the alarm, and was called as a witness, how she might be suspected of encompassing the death. Can't you see?"
"I can see," said Audrey, grasping the position quicker than her husband. "I think, considering the circumstances, she acted wisely. What did she do then?"
"Went back to bed, and told Lanton next morning that she had been asleep all the time. So that is her story, in a way. Other portions of it I shall tell you later, but not just now."
"Why not?" asked Shawe, suspiciously.
"That explanation comes later also," said Miss Toat, with an odd little smile. "But to go on. I left Miss Pearl and sought out Eddy Vail."
"Why did you do that?" demanded Audrey, quickly.
"Because I guessed that only he could have had a key manufactured to fit the court door. He was in a terrible state of mind when, I questioned him, and admitted that he had such a key."
"Then he is the criminal!" cried Shawe, triumphantly.
"He denies that he is," replied Perry Toat, quietly. "He told me that he got the key made as he wanted to enter the Pink Shop when he could without his wife knowing that he was under her roof. Badoura admitted him sometimes by the inner door, as she easily got the key from the nail in the still-room."
"But why should there be secrecy?" asked Ralph, puzzled.
"Well," said Perry Toat, after a pause, "if you ask me, I think Mr. Edmund Vail was in the habit of robbing his wife when he could, with the connivance of Badoura. I don't blame the girl over much, as she was crazy, and is crazy, about the scamp. But we can discuss this later. Meanwhile you must understand that Eddy Vail had the skeleton key made for the purpose I told you of. His story is that he entered the court about a quarter to eight o'clock, and as the window of the bedroom wherein Madame Coralie and Lady Branwin were talking was open, he saw the one display the diamonds to the other. Immediately he resolved to steal them, and, as Badoura had left the inner door unlocked, he ran upstairs at five minutes to eight to put the still-room clock back half an hour and prove an alibi. He intended later to steal out again into the court, and climb through the window to take the jewels."
"And he did?" said Ralph, quickly.
"Not immediately. Madame came up, and he secured his alibi. Then she turned him out by the front door. He went round by the back and entered the court. The window was still open. He got in and found Lady Branwin dead--"
"And the diamonds gone?"
"According to his story he was too terrified to wait and see. He scrambled out of the window again, and fairly ran away. In his hurry he left the key in the lock of the court door, after turning it."
"But the inner door was found locked also, and the key was on the nail in the still-room next day," said Shawe, quickly.
"Of course. When Madame turned Eddy out by the front, Badoura locked the inner door and restored the key to its nail. However, Eddy swears that Lady Branwin was dead when he entered, and he does not know who killed her."
"What is to be done now?" asked Audrey, in dismay.
Perry Toat replied promptly. "You and Mr. Shawe must come with me to London by the midday train. I have arranged a meeting with Madame Coralie and Eddy Vail in my office. Then when you, Mrs. Shawe, and you, Mr. Shawe, are face to face with them we may arrive at the truth."
"Why not arrange to have Sir Joseph and Miss Pearl present also?"
"Oh, you will probably see them down here to-morrow," said Perry Toat, drily. "Miss Pearl assured me that she would do her best to induce Sir Joseph to come down and be reconciled. More than that, she intends to come down with Sir Joseph herself. 'Blessed are the peace-makers,'" ended Miss Toat, grinning.
"Never mind this peacemaking," said Ralph, briskly; "let us go to London and get this particular matter threshed out. Come, Audrey."
"One moment," said Perry Toat, bringing a photograph out of her pocket. "Do you remember how I told you that I was hunting for the hospital nurse who stole Colonel Ilse's child?"
"Yes; but what has that case to do with the matter?" asked Ralph, with considerable impatience, as he wished to do one thing at a time.
"Look at the photograph, Mrs. Shawe, and see," said the detective.
Audrey took the photograph and looked at it hard. Then she started back with a cry of amazement. "It is a picture of my mother!" she gasped.
"Oh, no," said Miss Toat, easily; "you are misled by the resemblance and by the absence of the birthmark, which does not show in the photograph."
"I see," said Ralph, examining the picture. "This is Madame Coralie?"
"Exactly--as a hospital nurse and kidnapper!"
Naturally Mr. and Mrs. Shawe did not care about interrupting their honeymoon by a visit to town, especially on an errand connected with criminal matters. But the necessity of taking such a journey was very great, seeing that Perry Toat assured them how the arranged interview with Madame Coralie and her husband would probably clear up matters in a surprising way. Apparently the detective knew much more than she was prepared to admit, for once or twice she looked at the young couple in an odd way. Ralph saw her stealthy glances, but did not ask her in the presence of his wife what they meant. Warned by experience, he hesitated to be too abrupt in his questioning. He did not know what astonishing fact might be told.
But the young man did express surprise when he examined the photograph of Madame Coralie. It was the woman herself without doubt, for her face, although looking much younger, was too strongly marked to be mistaken. She was dressed as a nurse, and looked quite pretty, as her figure was more shapely and the garb became her. Of course, the birthmark was not revealed by the photographic process, or if it had been--Ralph was not sufficiently an expert to know--was eliminated carefully, so that the subject of the portrait might appear at her best.
"Where did you get this?" asked Ralph, when the trio walked back to the Three Fishers to get ready for the midday journey.
"I have been hunting for it for a long time," replied Perry Toat, replacing the photograph in her pocket, "and at length procured it from an old servant of Colonel Ilse, who had been in the house when Madame Coralie acted as nurse to Mrs. Ilse. She called herself Mrs. Askew then."
"Askew, Askew!" muttered Shawe, musingly. "And her true name is Arkwright."
"She used a false name with the same initial letter because of the marks on her linen, no doubt," said Miss Toat. "Of course, this portrait was taken more than twenty years ago, but there is sufficient resemblance for me to recognise it as that of Madame Coralie."
"But as she always wears a yashmak--"
"You forget my midnight exploration of the Pink Shop, when I saw Madame Coralie in bed without the yashmak and by the light of my bull's-eye lantern," said the detective, quickly.
"Then you are sure that she is the nurse who stole the child?"
"Quite sure. It appears she was jealous of Mrs. Ilse, as she was in love with the Colonel at the time, although she had no grounds to go upon. He was not the Colonel then, of course."
"He is pleased at your discovery, I expect?" said Audrey.
Perry Toat cast one of her stealthy glances at the young wife. "Very pleased indeed," she assented cordially, "since the discovery of Madame Coralie as the nurse may give him back his daughter."
At the Three Fishers Audrey found a curt note from her father saying that he was coming down to see her that afternoon, as he had obtained her address from Lady Sanby. Sir Joseph had learnt all about the wedding and how Lady Sanby had acted as the fairy godmother. Perhaps for this reason he was willing to be reconciled to his daughter. But a letter from Miss Rosy Pearl to Ralph, which had arrived by the same post, put a different complexion on the affair. Miss Pearl wrote saying that she had prevailed on Sir Joseph to become friends again with Audrey, and that she would come herself with the millionaire to Weed-on-the-Sands to witness the reconciliation. "Fortunately I am not engaged at any music-hall for two weeks," wrote the dancer, "so I can stay at the Three Fishers for the night and cultivate the society of your wife. I may tell you that if she were not at Weed-on-the-Sands I would not be able to come down with Sir Joseph, as in my profession one can never be too careful."
Ralph laughed at this display of Miss Pearl's uneasy virtue. "I am afraid that she will not find us here," he said to Audrey.
"Not this afternoon," replied the girl, quickly, "but we can return by the late train. I should like to become reconciled with papa."
"I think Lady Sanby has something to do with Sir Joseph's desire to be on speaking terms with us," said Ralph, a trifle drily. "No doubt she gave him a good talking to. However, I shall leave a note saying that we shall return by--When can we return, Miss Toat?"
The detective thought for a moment or so. "We leave here by the half-past twelve train," she said, looking at the watch attached to her wrist, "and get to London at half-past two o'clock. We shall reach my office in Buckingham Street at three, and there I expect to find Madame Coralie and Eddy Vail waiting for us. The interview will likely be a long one--say two or three hours. You can catch the six o'clock train, and there is also one at eight, if you prefer to dine in London."
"We will take the six train back," said Audrey, quickly, "as I don't want to keep my father waiting longer than I can help."
"To say nothing of Miss Pearl," said Ralph, with a shrug. "She would be horrified if we did not arrive at the Three Fishers until eight o'clock, and she found herself alone with her future husband at that disgraceful hour. By the way, Miss Toat," he went on, quickly, for he saw that Audrey was about to rebuke him for his flippant speech, "does Colonel Ilse know that--"
"He knows that this interview is taking place," interrupted the detective, rapidly, "and he will be present at it, so that Madame Coralie may be forced to tell him where his long-lost daughter is to be found. Of course, we have the affair of the murder to deal with also; but it is just as well to get the whole matter finished off at once."
"I, for one, shall be delighted," said Shawe, with emphasis. "I am very, very tired of the whole sordid business."
"I think you must have been when you wrote that anonymous letter," said Miss Toat, with a sly smile.
Ralph laughed. "It was very clever of you to trace the writing of it to me," he remarked coolly. "However, my wife now understands why I wrote it."
Here Audrey intimated her opinion that they would lose the train if they did not start at once for the station. The other agreed, and a brisk walk soon took them on to the platform. Shortly they were on their way to the junction, and there transferred their three selves to the main express. During the journey they talked a great deal about the case, as they had a compartment to themselves. Ralph saw, although Audrey did not, that Miss Toat was keeping back something which she was anxious to tell, and wondered what it could be.
When the train left the junction it steamed through a clear atmosphere, and in the midst of sunshine. But as it drew near to the metropolis the air became dense and smoky, and by the time it arrived at the terminus the three travellers found themselves environed by a thick fog. Not a glimpse of the sun was to be seen, and all round was a cotton-wool atmosphere, disagreeable and dispiriting. Audrey shivered when she stepped out on to the London platform, and was glad that Ralph had insisted on bringing a fur cloak with him for her to wear.
"What an extraordinary climate," she said, with a shudder; "scarcely an hour ago and we were in broad sunshine. Now look at it."
"Look at what?" asked Ralph, laughing. "We can see nothing."
And, indeed, he was right. From Victoria Station to the Strand they were in a kind of cloud-land, through which the taxi-cab crawled at a cautious pace. It took them three quarters of an hour to reach Buckingham Street, and here the fog was denser than ever. Miss Toat, leading the way up the narrow stairs to her office, simply groped amidst familiar surroundings like a miner in a coal mine. However, the two rooms of the office blazed with electric lights, and the warmth and the illumination were quite comfortable after the chilly gloom of the streets. Madame Coralie and her husband were waiting, but Colonel Ilse had not yet put in an appearance.
The proprietress of the Pink Shop had for once discarded her Turkish dress and yashmak. She wore a quiet costume and a loose cloak to hide her shapeless figure, together with a thick black veil, which masked the disfigured face. Eddy appeared over-dressed and more cherubic than ever in a quite unnecessary fur coat--for the day was warm in spite of the fog, and he did not need it. His face, however, was very pale, and he looked decidedly uncomfortable as he grinned uneasily at Mrs. Shawe.
"Dear Aunt Flora, how are you?" said the girl, coming forward.
Madame Coralie kept her at arm's length, and simply shook her hand. "You are Mrs. Shawe now," she said quietly, "and do not belong to me."
"I shall always look upon you as my aunt, and I shall never forget your kindness to me in my hour of need," said Audrey, hurt by this cold behaviour.
"You are a good child," said Madame Coralie, quietly, and in a steady voice, "but I have not done all that I wish to do. I intend to see your father and make him give you an allowance."
"Oh, papa will do that in any case, I think," said Mrs. Shawe, eagerly. "He is going down to-day to Weed-on-the-Sands to the Three Fishers Hotel, where Ralph and I are staying."
"Your father has gone down to see you, and you are not there?"
"We had to come up at the request of Miss Toat to see about this business, Aunt Flora," said Audrey, quickly; "but we shall return by the six or eight o'clock train to see papa and Miss Rosy Pearl."
Madame Coralie started. "What has Miss Pearl got to do with your father going down to see you?" she asked in an angry tone.
"Miss Pearl, so she says," remarked Ralph, "has persuaded Sir Joseph to forgive Audrey."
"Oh!" Madame Coralie shook from head to foot with silent rage, "how dare she! That woman--how dare she! To go down to Weed-on-the-Sands with your father and on such an errand!"
"She means well, aunt."
"I shall see to that later," retorted Madame Coralie, ominously.
"Quite so," said Perry Toat, looking up briskly, as she sat down at her desk. "Meanwhile we must see to the matter in hand."
"That is what I wish to know about," said Madame Coralie, sharply. "Eddy told me that you had been talking to him, and insisted that I should come with him this day. Perhaps you will tell me what it all means. This fool," she added, glaring at Eddy through her veil, "pretends he knows nothing."
Eddy swallowed something and balanced his smart silk hat on his knee. "I only know that Miss Toat seems to think that I killed--er--Lady Branwin."
"That is ridiculous," said Madame Coralie, resolutely. "Are you going to re-open that painful case?" she asked Perry Toat, abruptly.
"I don't think that it was ever closed," said the detective, quietly, "and in view of what Miss Pearl overheard it is necessary to talk about the matter, however painful it may be to you, Madame."
"What did Miss Pearl overhear?"
"You shall know later."
"It is my belief," said Madame Coralie, folding her arms and speaking in a loud tone, "that Miss Pearl is implicated in the matter."
"We shall prove that in a certain way," said Perry Toat, quickly, "as Miss Pearl certainly saw Lady Branwin dead. She stole down into the lower passage and entered the bedroom about nine."
"What was she doing wandering about my house at that hour?" demanded Madame Coralie, fiercely.
"You shall learn soon. Meanwhile, we must wait for the arrival of Colonel Ilse," and she looked directly at Madame Coralie to see what effect the name had on her.
Whatever recollections the name brought to Madame Coralie, she did not reveal that they startled her, but remained silent behind the thick folds of the veil which masked her face. Audrey would have spoken, if only to ask why Perry Toat was badgering her aunt, when the door opened and Colonel Ilse made his appearance. He looked spic and span, and entirely military in his upright carriage.
"I am glad to see you, Colonel Ilse," said Perry Toat. And Audrey, whose hand was on the arm of her aunt, felt the woman quiver, although she did not open her mouth.
The Colonel seemed rather perturbed, and addressed himself to Miss Toat after a hurried glance at Audrey.
"You wrote saying you had found the nurse who stole my daughter Elsie," he said in faltering tones.
"Yes," said Perry Toat, deliberately pointing to Madame Coralie, "there she is, Colonel."
"It is a lie!" breathed Madame Coralie, under her breath.
"It is not a lie," said the detective, coldly, "no more than the fact that your husband killed Lady Branwin is a lie."
Eddy jumped to his feet with a shrill, hysterical laugh. "I did not kill Lady Branwin," he said excitedly. "I can prove that I did not."
"Hold your tongue, you fool!" cried Madame Coralie, savagely.
"Prove your innocence," commanded Perry Toat, who looked puzzled.
"Lady Branwin," said Vail, still shrilly, "is not dead."
"Not dead?" Everyone looked bewildered.
Eddy stretched out his hand and pulled the veil from his wife's face. "This woman is Lady Branwin," he said, with a choking note in his voice.
"My mother--my mother!" cried Audrey, rising to her feet and grasping at Ralph for support.