"Well?" asked Anthony, when Clarice returned to the drawing-room, "is Mr. Horran any better?"
"I think so. He is awake and his voice is stronger, but whether the improvement will last, I can't say."
"What does the doctor say?"
"Nothing. He is very perplexed over this disease, and does not know what is the matter."
"That doesn't say much for Jerce's reputation," said Ackworth.
"Dr. Jerce is only a man, after all," answered Clarice, earnestly, "and Uncle Henry's disease is so very mysterious, that neither he nor Dr. Wentworth can say anything explicit."
Ackworth twisted his hands behind his back and swayed to and fro on his toe-tips. "I wonder if Mr. Horran is really ill, after all."
Clarice, with her handkerchief to her mouth, looked at him suddenly and inquiringly. "What do you mean?"
"From what I have seen of Mr. Horran," said Ackworth, quietly, "he does not appear to be ill. His colour is good, he eats well, and sleeps a lot. He has not lost flesh, and his eyes are steady. Certainly, he appears to become giddy at times, but that might be biliousness from his sedentary life. Also he gets cross and fractious--that, again, might be liver. He lives very unhealthily, stewing in that room with a fire, and such an existence is enough to produce all the symptoms he suffers from, without any real physical cause."
"Well?" questioned Clarice, not knowing what this speech meant.
"You won't be offended?" asked Ackworth in his turn, and uneasily.
"With what?"
"I am about to say something about the Purple Fern."
"Yes?" she stared at him, amazed.
Ackworth still continued to sway to and fro, and gazed at the ground as he replied, "Mr. Horran may take exercise at night."
"Go on. I don't understand."
"His illness may be a feint."
"For what?"
"For business connected with the Purple Fern."
"Anthony!" Clarice recoiled, as though he had struck her. "Oh, I know it sounds ridiculous," said Ackworth, hurriedly, "and perhaps it may prove to be ridiculous. All the same, the fact of that man searching Jerce on the terrace, and this mysterious illness, and the envelope containing the stamped fern, and the presence of the gold box, which Jerce now has--well, you see--I don't exactly know how to put it."
Clarice drew near to him again. "Do you mean to say that Uncle Henry has anything to do with these murders?"
"Oh, no--I don't go so far as that, my dear. Do you remember that when I became engaged to you, you asked me to see Barras, the lawyer, since your guardian was too ill to be spoken to?"
"Yes, I wanted you to inquire about the money."
"Well, I spoke to Barras last week, and learn that you certainly get two thousand per annum in a couple of years. Ferdy gets the same, and Mr. Horran is sole guardian, with a right to appoint another guardian should he die. Mr. Barras, wishing to stand well with me, I suppose, as your future husband, hinted that you might not find everything right at Horran's death."
"But Uncle Henry told me that everything was in order," cried Miss Baird, "and declared that he had appointed me guardian to look after Ferdy's money when he died--when Uncle Henry died, I mean."
"Humph! That does not entirely agree with Mr. Barras' hints, and he did no more than hint. But something is wrong, and Mr. Horran--as I understood from Barras--is the cause of its being wrong."
"Uncle Henry has always been a good friend."
"Quite so, but has he been a good guardian?"
"Yes. No one could have been a better one, so far as I know."
"Precisely," said Anthony, quickly, "so far as you know. But the fact is, Clarice, I don't like Mr. Horran, and I never liked him, and--and--" he hesitated.
"Go on--go on. Don't keep me in suspense."
"Well, then, three months ago I was in town, and went to a ball at the Shah's Rooms. It was not--to be plain--a very reputable dance, or at all events it was extremely Bohemian. I went there before I was engaged to you, Clarice; now, I should not go. Well, then, at that dance, I saw Mr. Horran--"
"Oh, that's quite impossible. He has not been out of his room for years and years."
"I recognised him at a glance," said Ackworth, steadily, "his military carriage, his spare figure, his long, iron-grey moustache. And he was with a tall man, who had a criss-cross scar on his left cheek."
"The man in grey who searched Dr. Jerce on the terrace?"
"The same--if Dr. Jerce's description is to be relied upon. I never thought of the thing until you left the room. Then, remembering our late conversation, the memory of the incident came back. Now, Clarice, if this man--as Jerce declares--is mixed up in the Purple Fern business, he certainly was with Mr. Horran, and that, don't you see, brings your guardian into the affair."
Clarice turned quite pale. "It is very mysterious," she said to herself, "and yet it seems perfectly absurd. Uncle Henry is ill; he has always been ill, off and on, for the last ten years. I have lived in this house with him all the time. How could he possibly go to town even once without my knowledge?"
Ackworth shrugged his square shoulders. "Oh, as to that, a good motor-car could take him to London and back in a few hours."
"Uncle Henry has not got a motor-car."
"He may have one we do not know of," said Ackworth, quickly, "and as that French window of his opens on to the terrace on the other side of the house, it would not be difficult for him to slip out, and back again, without your knowing."
"But Chalks has sat up with him often."
"Quite so, but he may have slipped out on the nights Chalks did not sit up with him."
"Are you sure it was Uncle Henry you saw at the Shah's Rooms?"
"I caught only a glimpse of him with the scarred man, but I feel certain he was Mr. Horran. He has rather a striking personality and appearance, you know. Also, when I moved forward to speak to him, he saw me, and vanished in the crowd of dancers. If he was there, when he was supposed to be ill at home, there may be something in Mr. Barras's hints. Also, as he was with the man in grey, and the box was found on the terrace yonder by you, and a stamped picture of the fern was delivered to him, it seems to me that Mr. Horran is secretly mixed up with the matter."
"It is all supposition," said Clarice, uneasily. "Quite so. However, the best thing to do will be to ask Mr. Horran for an explanation."
"Yes. And Dr. Jerce."
"No, I shouldn't do that. Jerce is an eminently respectable man, and if anything was wrong, I should think he would show scant mercy to the wrong-doer."
"Dr. Jerce may know more than you imagine," said Clarice, quickly, and she related what the vicar had said about the loan. Ackworth listened with great attention.
"Humph! Jerce apparently suspects something also. Horran has been money-lending, it seems, and is quite a Shylock. Why don't you speak to Horran about the loan to the vicar? It is your money Horran has been playing with, if it is true that he has nothing save an income for acting as your guardian."
"But Mr. Clarke told me that Dr. Jerce would not allow him to see Uncle Henry about the loan."
"Dr. Jerce wants to keep his patient quiet, and may be quite deceived about this disease--if it is a disease."
"Dr. Jerce is too clever to be deceived."
"But he is," insisted Ackworth, "seeing that neither he nor Wentworth can state what the disease is. I tell you what, Clarice, you announce your engagement to me, and that will give some colour for me to interfere. Then we can get Mr. Clarke in to see Mr. Horran, and also we can ask Mr. Horran about his appearance with the man in grey at the Shah's Rooms. Finally, we can ask Mr. Barras to be present and make him explain his hints. In this way, everything will be cleared up, and matters can be placed upon a proper basis."
Clarice assented. "I think your idea is very good," she said, quietly; "all the same, I fancy you are exaggerating, when you say that Uncle Henry has to do with this dreadful business of the Purple Fern."
Ackworth shrugged his shoulders. "He can best explain that. I am quite prepared to state on oath that I saw Mr. Horran with the Purple Fern man at the Shah's Rooms. But, of course, as you say, I may be exaggerating. Everything I say may be explained by Mr. Horran, but only he can put things right."
At this point of the conversation, Dr. Jerce returned to the drawing-room, looking rather perturbed for so serene a man. He was drawing on his gloves as he entered. "Where is Ferdinand?" was his first question, as he cast a look round.
"Upstairs, lying down," said Clarice, "don't you remember he--"
"Yes! yes!" Jerce turned to the door again. "I know where his room is. I must see him before I go." He glanced at his watch. "I'll just have time for a short conversation before I catch this three o'clock train. Excuse me, Miss Baird, but--"
"Doctor, stop--stop. What is the matter with Uncle Henry?"
"He is annoyed by Mr. Clarke."
"About the loan?" asked Clarice, quickly. Jerce looked at her, astonished. "Yes. Do you know about that?"
"Mr. Clarke himself told me, and said that you did not want him to see Uncle Henry about it."
"I certainly did not," said Jerce, decidedly. "Clarke is always in difficulties, and Horran has been very good to him. His talking of incessant trouble would only irritate Horran, so I would not allow him to enter the house. But it seems that Mr. Clarke slipped in through the French window, and made trouble to-day, while Chalks was out. I have promised to see Clarke when I return here again, and to arrange that the interest of the loan stands over for another six months, which will give him time to turn round, as it were. But I wish he had not forced his way into the sick-room. He has done harm."
"But, doctor, about the Purple Fern?"
"Oh, Horran talked about that; but I have managed to set his fears at rest. He thinks he may be murdered, so I have told Chalks to stay with him all night. To-morrow, the Scotland Yard people will take up the matter. I'll go to the Yard to-night, and tell everything we have discovered; also, I'll give in the gold box as evidence."
"And don't you think--" began Ackworth, when Jerce cut him short.
"I have no time to talk," he said, impatiently. "I must see Ferdinand and then catch this train, as I have much to do. Miss Baird, your guardian is rather feverish with excitement; you had better not see him to-night. To-morrow, I'll come down again." And with these final instructions, Jerce slipped out of the room.
Clarice and Anthony looked at one another. "I shall see Uncle Henry for all that," said Clarice, determinedly.
"No! no. Better obey the doctor's instructions," urged Anthony, "after all, what we have to say will keep until to-morrow."
"But I am so worried."
"I know, darling--I know." He slipped his arm round her slender waist. "But it is best to settle this perplexing business in a ship-shape way. Leave Mr. Horran alone for to-night."
Clarice thought for a few moments. "Anthony," she said, earnestly, "I cannot wait for days for an explanation, and it seems to me that there can be none, unless Mr. Barras is present. Christmas is here in a couple of days, so I want you to go up to town and bring down Mr. Barras to-morrow. Then we can take him into Uncle Henry's room, and have an explanation."
"Humph!" said Anthony, doubtfully. "It seems to me that if Jerce goes to Scotland Yard, the authorities there may wish for an explanation from Mr. Horran."
"Not if you hold your tongue as to Uncle Henry's being at the Shah's Rooms," she said, anxiously.
"You want me to shield him?"
"We don't know yet that he is guilty," she reminded him, sharply.
Ackworth nodded. After all, he had doubtful ground to go upon, in connecting Horran with the criminal triumvirate whose trade-mark was the Purple Fern. The man might be entirely innocent, notwithstanding appearances. However, if Barras was an honest lawyer--and, on the face of it, there was no reason to think that he was not--he would be able, in the presence of his client, to state if the property of the Baird orphans was administered honourably. If Horran had been using the money for his own secret pleasure, and for loans to Clarke and others, he would be forced to account for the same. And such a forced explanation would inevitably compel him to acknowledge or deny that he was at the Shah's Rooms when Ackworth saw him. If he confessed so much, he would also have to explain how he came to know the grey man, who assuredly--if the gold box was to be accounted for--had to do with the Purple Fern crimes. Then, in one way or another, matters might be explained. They were certainly mysterious enough at present.
In the meantime, the lovers postponed inevitable disagreeables, in order to talk about their own particular future, and to enjoy themselves the more, they went for a short drive in Ackworth's dog-cart, which had been waiting all this time at the door, in charge of Mr. Horran's groom. Anthony had not brought his own servant, so the conversation of himself and his fiancée was perfectly free and unfettered. As they drove along the High Street, Dr. Jerce passed them, in earnest conversation with Ferdinand.
"I expect he's bringing your brother to his senses," said Ackworth, hopefully.
"I hope he will," sighed Clarice. "I am not very fond of Dr. Jerce, but he is certainly a good man, and his example is one which Ferdy should follow. I wonder," she added, musingly, "if Ferdy ever saw Uncle Henry at the Shah's Rooms. That is just the sort of fast place which Ferdy would go to."
Anthony flicked the horse's ears with his whip, and laughed. "I have been there also," said he, coolly. "Perhaps I should not have confessed as much to you, my dear."
"Why not?" demanded Clarice, with perfect candour. "You must not think me a cotton-wool young woman. I quite understand that men are men."
"And that women are angels?" questioned Anthony, bending to see her pretty face.
"We leave that for the men to say," returned Clarice, dryly.
"This man says it--of you."
"This man does not talk sense."
"Nor does he intend to. I have had enough of sense for the day, my dearest. Sensible conversation invariably means worry. Let us enjoy our golden hour, without transmuting it into dull lead."
Miss Baird, who was feminine after all, and very much in love and young in years and spirits, thought that this was an excellent idea, so the rest of the drive was all that could be desired in the way of cheap and genuine happiness. When it ended, she gave Anthony Russian tea in a tumbler and dainty caviare sandwiches. Ferdy, as they learned from Mrs. Rebson, had returned from the railway station to enjoy his golden hour at the vicarage, and Mr. Horran had again fallen asleep.
But simple happiness over afternoon tea could not last for ever, and when Anthony set out for Gattlinsands, after a lingering farewell, Clarice felt the reaction. To prevent herself from feeling dull, it was necessary that she should do something, so true to her intention of defying Dr. Jerce, she tapped at the door of the sick-room. Chalks appeared, with a whispered communication that the patient was awake and too fractious to see anyone on that night. Clarice returned to the drawing-room, and read indolently until Wentworth came to pay a late visit at eight o'clock. Just as she descended the stairs, dressed for dinner, Miss Baird caught the young physician at the door, and accosted him at once.
"Is Uncle Henry better, doctor?" she asked, coming forward.
Wentworth was a slim, shy man, who wore spectacles, and spoke in a jerky, staccato manner when addressed by a woman. "Better--yes--that is,--more awake. Lethargy passed away--very bad temper. Better leave him alone until the morning. 'Night, Miss Baird," and he shot off in confusion, like a timid schoolboy.
Clarice made a hurried meal, and returned drearily to the empty drawing-room, without any desire to encounter the fractiousness of her guardian, which she had experienced on more than one occasion. After the somewhat exciting day she really felt worn-out and in need of rest, therefore made up her mind to retire comparatively early. However, she hoped that Ferdy would come home soon to explain his absence from the dinner table, and passed the time in playing Patience until ten o'clock. Finally, after asking Mrs. Rebson if the house was locked up, and if Ferdy had returned--which he had not--she ascended the stairs to bed. At the top of them she found Ferdy clinging to the banisters. Apparently he had entered the house without Mrs. Rebson's knowledge.
"Oh!" said Clarice, perceiving his condition. "Again."
Ferdy chuckled. "I've been--S'v'y H'l--B't'fly pretty girl--j'lly ev'ning--such fun--it's--it's--" Here he missed one step and rolled down two, with an idiotic giggle. Clarice would have struck him in her disgust, but that would have done no good. Being a prompt and powerful young woman, she caught him by the collar of his coat and dragged him into his bedroom on the first floor. There she locked him in, while Ferdy protested weakly all the time, and only yielded to superior force.
"Faugh!" said Clarice, throwing the key on her dressing-table. "What a weak fool he is." She sat down and stared at the reflection of her face in the Louis Quinze mirror. It looked weary and drawn. "I shall be an old woman soon if this sort of thing goes on," she thought. "Oh, dear me, how tired I am of bearing other people's burdens. I must end it. In some way, I'll get the truth out of Uncle Henry, settle the money matters, marry Anthony, and wash my hands of everything. As to Ferdy, I'll marry him to Prudence and let her look after him."
Having thus arranged the future, she retired to rest. But not to sleep, since her brain was much too active for slumber. She tossed and turned and sighed wearily at intervals, as the hours dragged on to midnight. Only on hearing the church clock strike twelve did she begin to lose consciousness, and, finally, thankfully sank into a deep slumber, which lasted for hours.
Towards dawn, as is often the case with worried people, she began to dream in a confused, broken way, and the purple fern, very naturally, since it was in her mind, mingled with her fleeting visions. She fled--so it seemed--through dark streets, of nightmare length, pursued by the man in grey, who assumed monstrous proportions. He caught her, at the end of interminable miles, and--so she dreamed, with gasping horror--stabbed her to the heart. Then she felt the mark of the Purple Fern--the mark, indeed, of the Beast, as it might be--stamped on her forehead. Afterwards, half awake and half asleep--only in her dream she was dead--she felt herself being placed in a narrow coffin, and heard the hammering of the nails, which closed her in for ever and ever and ever. With a violent effort she broke the nightmare's bonds, and woke in a cold perspiration, to see the cold, faint dawn glimmering behind the window blinds, and--horrible feeling--to hear the knocking continue. But not on her dream coffin. The blows came on her bedroom door, steady, persistent, terrifying. She heard her name called in a quavering voice, and sprang out of bed, confused and dazed.
Wrapping a dressing-gown round her and somewhat recovering her senses, she hastily unlocked the door, which she invariably kept closed during the hours of sleep. On the threshold stood Chalks, white and shaking, with chattering teeth and trembling hands.
"Miss! Miss!" he stammered, and then fled down the stairs, unable to get out his words. Sick with fear, Clarice followed in her disordered attire, and came to Horran's room. On the bed lay the body of the sick man, with a cruel wound in his breast. He was stiff and cold, dead--murdered--and on his chill forehead was the infernal mark of the Purple Fern.
Mr. Horran was as dead as a door nail. There could be no doubt about that. While Chalks shivered and wrung his hands in the middle of the room, demoralised and helpless, Clarice bent over the bed, in a dazed manner. She could scarcely grasp the situation, notwithstanding that it had been foreshadowed--as it were--by the mystery of the grey man. Without doubt, he was the assassin. The sinister omen of the Purple Fern had been fulfilled. An eighth victim had been struck down, and his forehead bore the infernal trade-mark of the triumvirate, which no longer existed. One of the members had been hanged; another had died from natural causes; but the survivor, Alfred Osip, of Rough Lane, Stepney, had accomplished alone the accursed work which the three had undertaken.
"I was sent away," explained the valet, with chattering teeth, "by master at eleven o'clock, as he would not let me sit up with him. I came into the room, as usual, about seven o'clock--a few minutes ago, Miss--to see if master wanted me. Then I saw that"--he pointed to the bed--"and this!"--he picked up an assegai, which was lying near the escritoire. "Look at the blood on it, Miss, and look at the cruel wound in master's breast."
The bedclothes were perfectly smooth, and turned down to the dead man's waist in an orderly manner. The jacket of his pyjamas was open, and the breast revealed a ragged wound, upon which the blood had congealed. Apparently, the assassin, Osip, had found the unfortunate man sound asleep, and, having taken the assegai from the collection of barbaric weapons on the wall, had turned down the clothes to stab his victim with a surer aim. There was no sign of a struggle, and even Clarice's untutored senses told her that Henry Horran had been foully murdered in his sleep. But how had the assassin entered? The window--she wheeled round with a set face, and stretched out an arm.
"The window is open," she said, in a dry cracking voice.
"Yes, Miss," whispered Chalks. "Dr. Wentworth saw master, after Dr. Jerce went away, and opened the window, as usual."
"You fool!" cried Clarice, furiously, and recollecting Jerce's precautions, in the face of the warning, "you have made two mistakes. You should have obeyed Dr. Jerce in sitting up all night with Mr. Horran; and the window, according to his directions, should have been closed."
"I told you about the window before, Miss," said Chalks, doggedly. "I let them doctors do what they liked, as it ain't my place to advise medical men. As to sitting up, Dr. Jerce told me to do so, but master insisted that I should leave about eleven, as usual. How can I obey them all?" asked the little man, tearfully. "I ask you that, Miss."
"But you knew the danger, and----"
"What danger, Miss? Master has slept with that window open, off and on, for three years--ever since Dr. Wentworth came to look after him. He said it was to be open, and Dr. Jerce always wanted it to be shut. I let them do what they liked."
"You should have remained all night with Mr. Horran," said Clarice, remembering that Chalks knew nothing about the warning of the Purple Fern, or the need of especial supervision.
"With a royal Bengal tiger, Miss?" wailed Chalks, "for that was what master was last night. I never saw him so cross--never. He seemed to have something on his mind, and went on awful."
"What did he say?" asked Miss Baird, thinking Horran's utterances might shed a light on the darkness.
"I can't tell you Miss. It was swearing for the most part. But he made me go to bed, and laughed when I declared that Dr. Jerce told me to sit up with him."
"How did you leave him?"
"Sitting up in bed, swearing."
"With that window open?"
"It was ajar, as Dr. Wentworth left it," explained the valet, cautiously. "Dr. Jerce closed it in the day, and Dr. Wentworth opened it, when he left, about eight o'clock, last night."
"Did you hear any noise in the room during the night?"
"Now, how could I, Miss?" complained the little man, in an injured tone, "seeing that my bedroom is at the back of the house, and that I sleep like a top, through being worn out with master's tempers. I left at eleven last night, and came again at seven; but what happened between them hours, I know no more than you do."
"I know what happened," said Clarice, with a shudder, and looking at the still figure on the bed. "Murder happened--as you see."
"But why should it happen, Miss? Master had his tempers, but he would not have harmed a fly."
"I can't tell you the reason, Chalks; but, doubtless, Osip intended to murder Mr. Horran for some wicked purpose of his own."
"Osip!" echoed the valet, starting. "Why, that is the man who was going to stop at Mrs. Dumps' Savoy Hotel a few days ago, and didn't."
"What day was that?" asked Clarice, quickly.
Chalks searched his memory, and mentioned the very evening, when Dr. Jerce had been searched on the terrace. There was no longer any doubt in Clarice's mind but what Horran had been killed by Osip; but why so inoffensive a man should be thus cruelly put out of the way she could not conjecture. However, theorising would not help, so she moved away from the bed with a sigh, and tried to recover her composure.
"You had better go at once for the police, Chalks," she said, rapidly. "Meanwhile, I'll rouse up my brother and the servants."
"They are already up, Miss."
"Do they know?"
"No, Miss. I just cast one glance, and then flew up to you, Miss."
"Why not to Master Ferdinand?"
"Because, Miss, we always look to you for orders," said the valet, respectfully; "and about the body, Miss?"
"Don't touch it--don't touch anything," said Clarice, warningly. "It is necessary that the police should see the room as it is; and on your way to the Police Station, Chalks, send a telegram to Captain Ackworth at Gattlinsands."
"And to Dr. Jerce, in London, Miss?"
"There is no need; Dr. Jerce is coming down to-day, as usual."
Clarice went to see Mrs. Rebson, and communicated the dreadful news of the crime. In a few minutes, the other servants were also informed, and everyone was horrified that such a tragedy had taken place in the quiet house. Mr. Horran had little enough to do with the domestics, seeing that he usually kept to his room; but he was sufficiently well liked to make one and all regret that he had come to so terrible an end. And Mrs. Rebson's expressions of sorrow were mingled with congratulatory comments on the triumph of The Domestic Prophet.
"Didn't I tell you, miss!" she said, nodding convincedly; "didn't I tell you that trouble and death and disgrace would come; and you laughed at me--what do you think of the Prophet now?"
Miss Baird shook her head, being too stunned by the catastrophe to express her wonder or her reasons for disbelief. She went to her own room to dress, and Mrs. Rebson sailed down to the kitchen with the Domestic Prophet in her hand, ready to partake of a cup of tea, and to expatiate on the wonderful manner in which the seer's chance shot had hit the bull's-eye of the future.
Having completed a hasty toilet, Clarice took the key of Ferdy's bedroom from her toilette-table, and went to release him. As might be expected, seeing that the hour was early, Ferdy was still in bed, and fast asleep. When his sister shook him, he rolled over, and muttered something uncomplimentary. His debauch of the previous night had left him somewhat haggard; but the night's rest had, to a great extent, smoothed away the lines of dissipation from his handsome face.
"Get up, Ferdy," said Clarice, harshly. "Uncle Henry is dead."
The word--so terribly significant--penetrated even to Ferdy's shallow, sleepy brain, and he sat up with widely-opened, horrified brown eyes. "Uncle Henry!" he gasped. "Dead!"
"Murdered!" whispered his sister, grey and shaken.
"Wh-a-a-at!" Ferdy sprang out of bed, and his pink pyjamas formed a strange contrast to his white, horrified face. "Clarry, you--you--must--you must be mistaken!"
"I have just seen his body, with a wound in the breast, and with the mark of the Purple Fern on the forehead."
"Clarry!" Ferdinand caught her by the hand. "What I overheard yesterday in the drawing-room--what you and Ackworth and Jerce--?"
"Yes, yes," she said impatiently, and wrenched herself free. "Everything is plain. This man Osip murdered Uncle Henry last night. I have sent for the police. Dress yourself quickly, Ferdy, and come down to see them with me. I expect the Inspector will come, and I have also sent for Anthony."
Ferdy caught her by the dress, as she moved towards the door. "But, Clarry, Clarry, why has Uncle Henry been killed?"
"I know no more than you do. We must find out. It is something that we know the name of the murderer."
Ferdy gasped. "And--and--do you?" he stuttered.
"Of course. That man Osip is----"
"Oh!" Ferdy wiped his face. "Osip,--of course--the Purple Fern man. But how can you be certain he is guilty?"
"He put his trade-mark on Uncle Henry's forehead," said Clarice, and left the bedroom, after a second command to Ferdy that he should dress quickly, and come on the scene of action.
"Osip! Osip!" said Ferdy to himself, stripping for his bath; "that's the man in grey, Jerce talked of--the man who called on old Mother Dumps and paid her for a bed he did not use. I wonder if he really is guilty. At all events," murmured Ferdy, thankfully, and splashing in his tub, "as Clarry locked me in last night, they can't say that I have anything to do with it. Poor Uncle Henry!--but," cheerfully, "now I'll get my money, and can marry Prudence; if," ruefully, "if Sally Dumps will let me."
Meanwhile Clarice, downstairs, was talking to Inspector Tick, who was in charge of the Crumel police, and who had come with two constables to see about the tragedy. Miss Baird told him all that had happened since Jerce had been searched on the terrace by the man in grey, who had given the name of Osip to Mrs. Dumps. Then she conducted Tick to the death-chamber, and left him to examine Chalks and the body. Later Wentworth arrived, and two hours afterwards Captain Ackworth appeared on the scene. Both were horrified.
"Didn't you hear a cry, Clarice?" asked Anthony, when in possession of the facts.
"I heard nothing," she replied, "nor did Chalks. But that is not to be wondered at, since Chalks sleeps at the back of the house, and is far away from Uncle Henry's room."
"Did Ferdy hear anything?"
"I don't think so, though I haven't asked him. He came home drunk last night, shortly after ten o'clock, so I locked him in his room. And, in any case, Anthony, I don't think a cry was uttered, for Uncle Henry must have been stabbed by the assegai, in his sleep."
"The window was open?" questioned Ackworth, thoughtfully. "Why?"
Clarice explained the contention between the two doctors, as regards fresh air, and how the local practitioner, being the last to see the patient, had left the fatal window ajar. "There's nothing to be learned from that," ended Clarice, with a shrug. "I expect this Osip man was haunting the house to kill Uncle Henry, and the open window gave him his chance."
"Humph!" said Anthony, meditatively; "there is one peculiar circumstance. If Osip is guilty, he would have brought a weapon with him. Why, then, should he take an assegai from the wall? Such a clumsy article, too."
"I don't know," answered Clarice, "but I expect we'll learn all that is to be learned, at the inquest. It will take place to-morrow."
For the whole of the morning, Inspector Tick was busy making notes and asking questions. He examined Wentworth about the window; Clarice, again, as to the finding of the gold box; Ferdinand about the presence of Osip at the Savoy Hotel; and then, after a word or two with Chalks on the same subject, went off to see Mrs. Dumps. In the midst of all this excitement, Dr. Jerce arrived. He looked much distressed, as he had heard the truth at the station.
"My dear Miss Baird," he exclaimed, when he learned all that she knew. "How terrible. My oldest and best friend. Dear, dear!--and just when I had arranged that the matter of Osip should be inquired into."
"Have you seen the Scotland Yard authorities?" asked Ackworth, suddenly.
"Yes, last night. I handed over the gold box, and explained. They said they would send down a detective to-day, and, on hearing the news at the station, I sent a wire to expedite his arrival. Then we shall get at the truth."
"It seems to me that we know the truth," said Clarice, quickly. "Osip killed Uncle Henry, and took advantage of the open window to do so."
"Ah!" said Jerce, bitterly, "if my directions had only been attended to, the assassin would not have been able to enter the house. I look upon Wentworth as responsible in some measure for the crime."
"Oh, no! no!" expostulated Anthony. "Wentworth did not know that Horran's life was threatened. We ought to have told him all."
Jerce shook his head, and still condemned Wentworth. When that doctor appeared out of the death-chamber, where he had been examining the body, he and Jerce had a wordy argument. Jerce blamed Wentworth for not leaving the window closed, as Jerce had left it; and Wentworth complained that Jerce should have told him that the dead man's life was in danger. "Had I known that," said Wentworth, "I should have left the window closed."
"According to the etiquette of our profession," said Jerce, stiffly, "my treatment took precedence of yours. I closed the window yesterday before I went, and you should have left it closed."
"I believe in fresh air," snapped Wentworth, holding to his point.
"And in this disease I believe in warmth for the patient," retorted the more famous doctor. "Do you set your opinion against mine?"
"I have my own views about this disease," said Wentworth.
"You don't know what it is, sir!"
"Neither do you, if it comes to that, Dr. Jerce."
"I am just about to find out," said the great man, and stalked from the drawing-room, followed by the humbler member of the profession, who was still bent upon asserting his dignity.
It was a sad Christmas Eve for Clarice. Anthony stopped as long as he could, but had to return to his duties early in the evening. Ferdy behaved much better than his sister expected him to, since he remained at home, and did his best to comfort her. After dinner, the Vicar looked in, and talked religion; but Clarice, knowing what a weak man the parson was, did not find much encouragement in his ministrations. The kitchen was much livelier than the drawing-room, for there Mrs. Rebson was enthroned with the Domestic Prophet in her lap, recounting over and over again what the book had said, and how she had applied it to Mr. Horran.
The next day being Christmas, the inquest could not be held, but on Boxing Day the jury and the local Coroner arrived to inspect the body and to hold an inquiry. Already the London papers had heard of the murder, and, as it was the eighth of the Purple Fern series, a number of reporters came from the Metropolis to take notes. Never before was the quiet little town so lively, for cheap trippers took advantage of cheap fares to come and view the scene of the latest crime. Many even preferred this new excitement to the well-worn amusements of Southend, which was not very far distant. Mrs. Dumps especially did a roaring trade, being particularly popular, from having conversed with the murderer. The shrewd little woman made the best of the notoriety, which had so suddenly rendered her famous.
"I'm sure," she cackled a dozen times in the course of the day, "you could have knocked me down with a feather when I heard that such a nice man as Mr. Osip was nothing but a cut-throat assassin. And he wanted to take poor Mr. Horran's house, too--just like his artfulness, when he intended murder and sudden death, as the Prayer Book says. Oh, that Dumps were alive to support me, for my limbs is giving with horror at the thought that I might likewise be cut off in the prime of my youth and beauty. Lydia, beer to that gentleman over there! And now I'll have to get ready for the inquest, my evidence being required to hang the assassin. Though assassin he didn't look like, I can tell you, gentleman. As nice a spoken man as I ever listened to, which shows how careful we ought to be, seeing that in the middle of life we are in our grave, as the Bible says." After which and a few other incoherent speeches, the little woman arrayed herself in her smartest frock and took her way to the house of death.
Here the Coroner presided in the drawing-room over twelve good and lawful men. There was no mystery about the murder, as everyone was perfectly satisfied that Alfred Osip was guilty. But it was necessary to collect all evidence to reveal how Osip had committed the crime, and to gather any clues together which might lead to his capture. The two Bairds were present with Ackworth and Dr. Jerce. Before the proceedings began, Clarice took the opportunity to ask the latter if he had discovered the reason for Horran's mysterious disease, which had baffled him and everyone else for so many years.
"Yes," whispered Jerce, calmly, but with a look of triumph in his eye, "and I was right in my surmise, as to what was the matter. My poor friend would have died of the disease had he not been murdered."
"What was the disease?" asked Clarice, curiously.
"You would not understand if I explained," said Jerce, shrugging; "the description would be too technical."
"But I want to know."
"Well," said the great physician, "when I removed the skull-cap, I found a cyst had formed under the membranes and was pressing on the brain. The probable cause of the cyst was cystic degeneration of an old blood-clot, the result of intracranial hæmorrhage."
Clarice shook her head. The death by the assegai was easier to understand.
The Coroner, a stolid old country doctor of sixty, with a ruddy face, shrewd eyes, and a beard which would have done credit to a Christmas card Santa Claus, opened the proceedings after the jury had inspected the corpse. His few brief remarks regarding the nature of the death, and the heinousness of the crime, introduced fussy Inspector Tick, with a sheaf of notes, dealing with up-to-date evidence.
Tick described the appearance of the dead man, described the state of the room, hinted at the open window, and laid before the jury the deadly assegai, with which the death wound had, in all human probability, been inflicted. Then the Inspector reverted to the appearance of the man in grey at the Savoy Hotel, under the name of Alfred Osip, and related what Dr. Jerce had said about the struggle on the terrace. Afterwards he mentioned the finding of the envelope containing the representation of the purple fern, and the discovery by Miss Baird of the gold box. He finished by again drawing the attention of the jury to the fact of the open window, and to the finding of the dead man by Chalks. Not being an orator, Inspector Tick spoke with hesitation, and set forth his facts dryly; but these were so interesting, that the lack of ornamentation was not apparent.
Mrs. Dumps was the first witness called by the Inspector, and she deposed, in a shrill voice and with many words, that Alfred Osip--so the man in grey called himself--came to the Savoy Hotel, and had paid for bed, breakfast, and dinner. After making inquiries about the inhabitants of Crumel, and especially about those in the deceased's house, "The Laurels," on the plea that he thought of settling in the town, Mr. Osip had departed, and had never returned. There was nothing in Osip's talk, declared Mrs. Dumps, which gave her any hint that he contemplated murder. He had not reappeared at the Savoy Hotel.
There was nothing further to be gained from Mrs. Dumps, so she was requested to stand aside, which she did unwillingly enough, as she liked the publicity of her position. Dr. Jerce followed next, and described how the man in grey--presumably Alfred Osip--had searched him on the terrace of The Laurels, and explained that he probably wanted the letter given to witness by the sick man in Tea Street, Whitechapel. Jerce also stated that the letter had been handed by him to the Scotland Yard authorities in London, and they had made inquiries, the result of which would be explained to the jury by Mr. Sims, a detective now present. The Coroner asked a few questions regarding the deceased's illness, and the open window; all of which Jerce answered in detail. He explained the cause of the disease, as gathered from the post-mortem examination, and the reason why the window had been left open by Wentworth and closed by himself. Afterwards, Jerce deposed as to the cause of death, which took place from Horran having been stabbed to the heart--apparently during his sleep, said the witness--by an assegai, which was produced by Inspector Tick. The murder, according to the condition and stiffness of the body, must have taken place between the hours of one and two o'clock in the morning. The doctor finally stated that he had been a life-long friend of the deceased and never knew him to have any enemies.
Dr. Wentworth's evidence was much the same as that of Jerce. He held to fresh air, although Dr. Jerce preferred the patient to have warmth, and so had opened the window just before he left the deceased at eight o'clock in the evening. The deceased was fractious and uneasy on that evening, but had assigned no reason for such uneasiness, which witness took to be connected with his mysterious illness. That illness had now been explained by the post-mortem examination. Samuel Chalks deposed to being the valet of Mr. Henry Horran, and stated that at the request of the deceased he had retired to bed, although instructed to sit up by Dr. Jerce. But that deceased had been so angry, the witness declared that he would have obeyed the doctor's orders; as it was, he judged it best to humour his master, lest worse should happen. The window was certainly open when he left the room, as witness had not touched it, according to his custom, when it was set ajar by Dr. Wentworth at eight o'clock. Witness had not taken any notice of the arms on the walls on that evening, and so could not say if the assegai was in its place. He never saw it about the room, until he found it on the floor, and Mr. Horran dead in bed, with a wound in his breast.
Coroner: "Did deceased notice the open window?"
Witness: "No! Sometimes the window was open and sometimes shut. Mr. Horran never troubled about it in any way."
Coroner: "Had you any suspicion that deceased wished you to leave him that night in order to see someone?"
Witness: "No! He was swearing in bed when I left him."
Coroner: "Did you lock the door of the bedroom?"
Witness: "No! The door of the bedroom was never locked."
A Juryman: "Did you hear any noise outside, which led you to believe that someone might be lurking about?"
Witness: "No, sir!"
Coroner: "And you knew nothing of this purple fern business?"
Witness: "No! Miss Baird never told me, nor did Dr. Jerce. If I had known I should have stopped in the room, notwithstanding master's bad temper."
Coroner: "Mr. Horran was not alarmed, or apprehensive?"
Witness: "Not in the least. He was in a bad temper, and wished me to leave him, so I did."
Coroner: "Do you know why the deceased was in a bad temper?"
Witness: "The Rev. Mr. Clarke had called in the afternoon, and after he left, Mr. Horran was very cross. As he was good-tempered up till Mr. Clarke's visit, I suppose Mr. Clarke put him out in some way."
The Coroner gave instructions that Mr. Clarke should be called as a witness, since this had not been done. Meanwhile, Clarice Baird deposed that the deceased was her guardian, and had been ill with some mysterious disease for ten years, more or less. Usually, he was good tempered. She did not see him on the evening of the crime, as he refused to receive her, being out of temper. Dr. Jerce had told her that Mr. Clarke had seen deceased, and Dr. Jerce was vexed, as he did not wish deceased, in his bad state of health, to be worried with business. Witness also stated how she had found the gold box, and had handed it to Dr. Jerce, who had taken it, along with the picture of the Purple Fern and the letter given to him by the sick man of Tea Street, Whitechapel, to Scotland Yard. Deceased had seemed much agitated when he found the picture of the Purple Fern in the unaddressed envelope outside his window, but had never gone into details about the matter, and she had not found an opportunity of speaking to him on the subject. As a matter of fact, deceased had fallen asleep while talking of the picture of the fern, and witness had picked it up. Beyond that he was agitated, witness had no reason to believe that Mr. Horran expected to be murdered. Still, since the other seven deaths, connected with the Purple Fern, had always been preceded by the same warning, it was possible that Mr. Horran was in dread of a violent death. Witness also stated, that she had heard no noise or cry during the night, and, indeed, had known nothing of the crime, until Chalks, the valet, came up to lead her down to the scene of the tragedy. From the disposition of the bedclothes, she fancied that deceased must have been stabbed in his sleep, before he had time to wake or call out. Witness had told the valet to leave the room exactly as it was, when found by him, and had then sent for the police.
Coroner: "When you found the box, did you see deceased about it?"
Witness: "No, sir! Mr. Horran was asleep for hours and hours, and I had no opportunity."
Coroner: "Would you have done so had deceased been awake?"
Witness: "Certainly!"
Dr. Jerce, re-called, said that he had not related the finding of the gold box to deceased, since he was already in a state of nervous excitement, owing to the visit of Mr. Clarke. Witness intended to wait until Mr. Horran was more composed, and then it was his intention to tell him about the golden box, and about Osip--that is, such details as were in the letter given to him by the young man who died in Tea Street. Dr. Jerce stated that he had placed all evidence in the hands of the Scotland Yard authorities on the same night that he went up, and that he had intended to come down next day and relate everything to deceased, whom he hoped to find more composed. "But when I arrived at the Crumel railway station," ended witness, "I found that my poor friend had been murdered."
Mr. Clarke, hastily summoned from the vicarage, then put in an appearance, and stated that he had received money from Mr. Horran, through his solicitor, Mr. Barras. He had long wished to see Mr. Horran on the matter of the interest, which was overdue, and for payment of which witness was being pressed. But Dr. Jerce would not allow witness to see Mr. Horran because Mr. Horran's health was delicate, and--according to Dr. Jerce--it would have been detrimental to his condition to worry him with business. Witness, however, was passing The Laurels, and saw the French window of Mr. Horran's bedroom open. He, therefore, slipped in on the impulse of the moment. Mr. Horran had expressed himself as angry about the thousand pounds loan, as he declared that he had not given Mr. Barras leave to lend money at the rate of ten per cent. He had told witness that he would write to Barras, and would see him--witness--in a few days, about the matter, telling him not to worry in the meantime. Deceased certainly appeared to be very much annoyed, and witness expressed his regret that he had not obeyed Dr. Jerce's wish and had refrained from paying the visit. His only excuse was that he had slipped into the bedroom on the impulse of the moment, and on seeing the window open from the lane.
Coroner: "You can see the window from the lane?"
Witness: "Certainly--very plainly."
Coroner: "Did you leave deceased in a bad temper?"
Witness: "So bad that I was sorry--in the interests of peace--that I had paid my visit."
Coroner: "Did Mr. Horran express any fear of being killed?"
Witness: "Not a word."
Coroner: "Did he touch on the fact of the Purple Fern murders?"
Witness: "No, sir. He never mentioned them. I only conversed with him for twenty minutes, and then it was about my own business."
The Coroner suggested that Mr. Barras should be called, but the lawyer had not come down from town, as he was away on a holiday and would not return for a few days. He had been telegraphed for to Paris, where he was spending his holiday. The Inspector pointed out that any evidence given by Mr. Barras would not bear on the crime, but with this the Coroner disagreed. "Mr. Barras," said the Coroner, "might be able to explain why he lent Mr. Clarke money without the leave of the deceased."
Inspector Tick: "Possibly, sir; but that would have no bearing on the case in hand. We are here, sir, not to search into deceased's private affairs, but to learn why he was killed, and who killed him."
Coroner: "An inquiry into the past life of deceased may reveal why he was murdered."
Again the Inspector disagreed with this, and again the Coroner objected; so there was a wrangle, which lasted for some minutes. Finally, Inspector Tick, being the more obstinate of the two, it was agreed that the inquest should not be postponed, as the Coroner had suggested, for the presence of the lawyer, Barras.
The last witness called was Thomas Sims, a smiling little Jewish-faced man from Scotland Yard, with an olive complexion and a pair of dark, inquisitive eyes. He deposed that the apartments in Rough Lane, Stepney, had been searched by the police, but Osip, having probably taken alarm, had cleared out everything likely to incriminate him. The young man who had died of consumption in Tea Street, Whitechapel (attended by Dr. Jerce, out of kindness), might or might not have been connected with the Purple Fern crimes. The only evidence which connected him with them was that he had accurately described Alfred Osip; and the sole evidence which associated Osip with the young man and with the murders was the gold box, which had been found by Miss Baird. Also, it was probable that as Osip--according to Mrs. Dumps and to Dr. Jerce--had been in Crumel a short time before, he had left the warning of the pictured fern outside the window of the deceased. Every effort had been made to find Osip, but without result. From the time he had searched Dr. Jerce on the terrace of The Laurels, he had disappeared. According to the ticket-collectors and porters and officials at the Crumel railway station, Osip had not even returned to London from that station. It was possible that after searching Dr. Jerce, the man had walked to the next station--Benleigh--to escape any pursuit should Dr. Jerce have given the alarm.
A Juryman: "And why didn't Dr. Jerce give the alarm?"
Dr. Jerce arose to explain, and was permitted to do so by the Coroner, although his rising was out of order. "I ran after the man," he said, calmly, "as soon as I could pull myself together. He had disappeared. Mr. Ferdinand Baird, who came up, suggested that the police should be called in, but when he described the man as having a scar on his left cheek, I then remembered the letter which my dying patient in Whitechapel had given me, with instructions to open it should I be attacked by such a man. I judged it best to return to London and open the letter before taking any action. I went to Scotland Yard as soon as I learned that Osip was connected with the Purple Fern crimes. More I could not do."
"You should have given the man in charge for assault," insisted the juryman.
"Doubtless," replied Jerce, ironically, "but I did not wish to make a scandal in my friend's house. Moreover, since the deceased's health was extremely delicate, it would have been injurious to him to be disturbed by an account of the struggle on the terrace. And that he would have learned, had I called the police to The Laurels."
No one could deny but what Jerce had acted sensibly, and the juryman--still holding to his opinion--was crushed. "If this Osip had been arrested at the time of the assault," muttered the juryman, "we should not have had the murder."
"And how was I to know, my good sir, that the man Osip contemplated murder?"
"The letter you received from the Tea Street man----"
"Was not opened by me until I returned to town after the assault. And then I went at once to Scotland Yard," retorted Jerce.
The juryman retired from the contest, and the Coroner then summed up the evidence as clearly and concisely as he could. Bearing in mind, he observed, the Purple Fern murders and the presence of Osip, who was clearly connected with the same, and above all, remembering the fatal mark on the forehead of the deceased, there could be no doubt that this crime was the eighth of the fatal series. One of the criminals who had perpetrated these terrible assassinations had been hanged, another had died from consumption, but the third--Alfred Osip--was still alive and had undoubtedly stabbed Henry Horran. It was proved by the fact that the usual warning had been given by means of the pictured fern. The window--according to Mr. Clarke--could be seen from the lane, so without doubt Osip, lurking therein, had seen that the window was open--as a light was in the room--and, waiting until the small hours of the morning, when his victim would presumably be asleep, he had entered and killed the unfortunate gentleman. The Coroner ended his speech with a request that the jurymen would bring in a verdict in accordance with the weight of evidence, which plainly pointed to Alfred Osip as the criminal.
The jury did so very promptly, as not one of them, and not one of the listeners to the evidence, had any doubt but that Osip was the guilty person. Therefore, after bringing in a verdict of "Wilful murder against Alfred Osip," the inquest was brought to an end, and the jurymen, very well satisfied with themselves, went home. But although the verdict had been given, the criminal was still at large; and now that he had commenced operations in Crumel, it was doubtful when he would stop. The locksmiths of Crumel did a fine trade during the next few days, as everyone wanted bolts and bars, patent locks, and ingenious alarms. The quiet little Essex town was terribly scared by the presence of this unseen beast of prey.
During the inquest, Clarice, looking round to see who was present, noticed a fashionably-dressed young lady, with a wonderful complexion and copper-coloured hair. At once she recognised her as the notorious Butterfly. Sarah--or Zara--Dumps was seated by her mother and greatly resembled the elder woman. But her mouth was firmer and her eyes were more deep-set. Notwithstanding the boldness of her appearance and the frivolity of her attire, she nevertheless looked clever and quite capable of dominating the weaker nature of Ferdy Baird. Once or twice Butterfly met the grave gaze of Clarice, and, rather to the latter's surprise, immediately dropped her eyes with a quick flush. This was strange, considering the known boldness of the girl, and Clarice wondered what it might mean.
When the inquest was over, and the jurymen were leaving the house along with the rest of the crowd, Clarice noticed the girl again. She was chatting in a low voice to Ferdy, while Mrs. Dumps sailed ahead with the Coroner, explaining how he should have managed the case. Rather annoyed that her brother should thus publicly flaunt his acquaintance with so notorious a young woman, Clarice pressed through the throng, in order to touch Ferdy's arm, and draw him away. But before she could carry out her purpose, a single sentence, falling from the lips of Zara, made her change her mind. Butterfly's lips were almost touching Ferdy's ear, and she spoke in a low and rapid voice, but sufficiently loudly for keen-eared Miss Baird to overhear.
"Now that Osip is accused," whispered Zara, softly, "there can be no danger."