"It was Mr. Lovel," repeated Iris; "and if he was not concerned in the murder, what was he doing at midnight on the very spot where it occurred?"
"He may have been there after twelve o'clock," said Paul; "but to inculpate him you must prove that he met Milly between eight and nine."
"I can't prove it; no one can prove it."
"I am not sure of that," replied Paul, with sudden recollection; "there is a man called Brent who was in the Winding Lane on that night, and about that time. I'll see him."
Iris shook her head. "If Brent had known anything he would have come forward at the inquest."
"No doubt--if he had not been bribed."
"What makes you think that Brent has been bribed?" asked Iris, in surprise.
"I do not think so; but Herne insists upon it."
"Mr. Herne!" said Iris, in a low voice, and with a flush--"he believes Lovel guilty also?"
"Yes--and without your grounds for belief. Also, he declares that Lovel bribed Brent to hold his tongue."
"Does Mr. Herne think that Brent saw the murder committed?"
"Oh, no! but he thinks that Brent saw Lovel with Milly."
"I am certain Milly, poor girl, was with Lovel on that night, and I believe he killed her."
There was a few minutes' silence, and then Paul turned quickly towards Iris. "I want to ask you a rather rude question," said he, awkwardly.
"What is it?"
"You won't be angry?"
"I am long past feeling anger after what I have gone through," said Iris, sadly. "What is it you wish to know, friend?"
"You asked me not to search for the assassin of Milly; and now I find that you believe the assassin to be Lovel. Are you in love with the man, that you sought to screen him?"
"In love with Mr. Lovel!" cried Iris, indignantly. "Not I! I despise him too much! A man who would act as he has done with Milly, knowing that she was engaged to Herne, is not worthy of a woman's love! No; I do not love, or even respect, Mr. Lovel."
"Then why do you seek to screen him?"
Iris rose to her feet with a cold look. "I cannot answer that question now. I had my reasons for acting as I did."
"What do you mean?" asked Mexton, rising in his turn. "I don't understand you."
"If I told you my reasons, you would understand still less," said Iris bitterly. "I do not understand myself. But don't ask me any more questions, Paul. I have told you all I know."
"All!" said Mexton, with emphasis, his eyes searching her face.
"All I can tell you now, at all events," she replied, obstinately.
After this last remark Mexton was satisfied that Iris, for reasons of her own which he could not guess, had not confessed all she knew. Yet as he was unaware of her motives for this reserve, he did not think it wise to press his questions. Better, he thought, to accept her refusal for the moment, and question her on some future occasion, when she might be more inclined to take him into her confidence. Moreover, by examining Brent, and forcing him into confession, he might get at her knowledge without the necessity of procuring it through herself. The matter thus settled in his own mind, Paul discarded the subject of the murder, and addressed himself to the question of Miss Link's position.
"You will accept my mother's offer, I suppose?" said he, quietly. "At all events you will stay with her until after the trial of your stepfather?"
Iris winced. "I do not care about facing Marborough gossip," she said; "but I think it best to stay with Mrs. Mexton, as I am afraid to remain here alone. I shall go over to Marborough by the six o'clock coach. Eliza can stay here in charge of the house."
"Very good, Iris. I shall meet you at six o'clock at The Herne Arms and take you over."
"And in the meantime--?"
"I intend to find out Brent, and force him to confess the truth."
This arrangement having been come to, Paul left Poverty Villa, and went off in the direction of the village. On his way towards the market-place, where he expected to find Brent--for it was market-day in Barnstead, and the town was full of farmers and labourers--Mexton remembered that the ploughman had confessed to being with one Jane Bilway in the Winding Lane. If this were so, the woman must have seen as much as the man; and if she had not been bribed also, it was more likely that he would be able to extract the truth from her. Mexton knew most people, high and low, in Barnstead, amongst these Jane Bilway, who was a servant at The Chequers, a little public-house on the outskirts of the village. Thither he turned his steps to see what he could learn from the woman.
Jane was a broad, squat wench with a healthy red face and dull eyes. She had about as much intelligence as a cow, and was only useful in doing rough work and common drudgery. She was, at the moment of Paul's arrival, cleaning the front windows of The Chequers, and recognised him with a friendly grin. At once Mexton began to ask her questions on the subject which was uppermost in his mind.
"Jane," he said, quietly, "you are to marry Giles Brent, they say?"
"Yes, Mr. Mexton. We've bin keepin' company since Christmas."
"You see him occasionally?"
"Most ivery day. He comes here a lot; he's inside now, havin' a wet," said Jane, pointing to the window of the tap-room.
This was better news than Paul expected, for it gave him the chance of an immediate conversation with Brent. But before entering the public-house, he pursued his plan of gaining information from Jane.
"Were you walking with him on the night Miss Lester was killed?"
"I were," replied Miss Bilway, frankly. "We went to the Methody Chapel together."
"Where did you meet him?"
"Just by the church, sir. We heard the shot fired when the bell was ringing."
"But you were with him in the Winding Lane?"
Jane shook her head emphatically. "No, I wasn't, sir," she denied. "I couldn't git away in time to go there. I wasn't in the lane on that night."
"Oh!" Paul noted that Brent had been telling a lie. "You met Brent by St. Dunstan's Church at nine o'clock, and went to the Methodist Chapel?"
"Yes, I did. And I 'eard the shot fired, but I thought it was nothin', though Giles he wanted to go back."
"You didn't see Miss Lester on that night?"
"No, sir; but I see Miss Iris, her sister, by the church at nine. She must 'ave heard the shot, too."
"I daresay," replied Paul, with assumed carelessness. "Well, Jane, here's a sovereign to buy yourself a wedding-present."
"Thank you, sir," said Jane, slipping the coin into her pocket. "I wants all I can git, though to be sure Giles ain't badly off for money."
"Oh, he has money, has he?" said Mexton, recollecting Herne's idea of the bribery; "a few shillings, no doubt?"
"A good few shillings, sir! Five pounds of 'em! We're goin' to spend 'em on the weddin'. Giles saved up the money from his wages. He's a good fellow, is Giles, sir."
"I'm sure he is; I hope he'll make you a good husband."
"I'll see to that!" replied Miss Bilway, grimly, and she went on cleaning the windows.
Paul laughed as he entered the tap-room, and thought of the ingenious Mr. Brent's device for accounting for his possession of the money. He was well known to be a thriftless wastrel, who spent most of his earnings in strong ale; and was as likely to save five pounds as he was to do an honest day's work. No one but simple Jane Bilway, blinded by love, would have believed so improbable a story. There was now no doubt in Paul's mind that the theory of Herne was correct. Lovel and Milly had met in the Winding Lane between eight and nine o'clock on the night of the murder, and had been seen by Brent as he was on his way to meet Jane near the church. Lest he should tell Herne of the meeting Lovel had bribed him with the five pounds.
"Though it is a large sum for a man like Lovel to give," thought Paul; "he is not well off, and would not part with so much money unless he was forced to. I hope the five pounds was not given to conceal a worse affair than a simple meeting. However, I'll play a game of bluff with Brent, and wring the truth, whatever it may be, out of him."
Brent, who was a huge, bull-headed fellow with a sulky face, sat alone in the tap-room with a mug of ale before him. He touched his hat to Paul, whom he recognised, and looked puzzled for the moment at the sight of a gentleman in a low-class public-house, which was usually patronised by himself and those of his class.
"Well, Brent," said Paul, in a cheerful voice, "how are you? All right--eh? I have just come to have a few moments of conversation with you."
Brent took his pipe from his lips, and gave a sulky growl. "What about, sir?"
"I'll tell you in good time," replied Paul, taking a chair, and selecting a cigarette from his case. "In the meantime, I am thirsty, and wish to drink. You'll have some ale with me?"
"I'd 'ave ale wi' anyone," said Brent, suspiciously; "but I don't know, sir, what the likes o' you wants with the likes o' me."
"We'll come to that soon," said Mexton, and hammered on the table. "Two tankards of bitter," he added to the slip-slop landlady, who entered with a deferential smile.
The liquor was soon brought, and after a deep draught Paul lighted his cigarette, and looked closely at the ploughman. Brent took a drink also, and tried to appear at ease, although he was visibly disturbed by the scrutiny of his visitor. Having reduced him to a doubtful frame of mind, Mexton addressed himself to the matter in hand.
He knew the manner of the man he had to do with, and that it would not be an easy matter to extract information from such a sulky brute. Threats also would avail little, as Brent was one of these pig-headed men, who begin by denying, and go on doing so in the face of the clearest evidence with incredible obstinacy. The sole chance of getting at the truth was to assume that Lovel had confessed the bribery to him--that is, to Paul Mexton--and had sent him on an errand connected therewith to Brent. This attitude necessitated the telling of a few lies; but Mexton was quite prepared to tell them. He was cool-headed and pertinacious, and not the man to stick at a trifle for the gaining of his own ends.
"I have come to you from Mr. Lovel," said Paul, slowly.
Brent's jaw dropped. "What's the likes of him want with the likes of me?" he said.
"A little decency, in the first place," replied Mexton. "You promised to hold your tongue about the meeting of Mr. Lovel and Miss Lester on the night of the murder."
"How d'ye know they met?" asked Brent, with dogged suspicion.
"Mr. Lovel told me. Do you think I would know if he had not?--or that I would be aware that he paid you five pounds to hold your tongue?"
Brent, whose brain worked slowly, fell into the trap at once. Unless Lovel had spoken, as Mexton declared, he did not think Paul could have come by such exact information; the more particularly as the precise amount of the bribe was mentioned. It never occurred to Brent at the moment that Jane had innocently betrayed him.
"Well, I've earned the money all right, ain't I?" he growled.
"Indeed you have done no such thing!" replied Mexton. "You have been talking about the meeting."
"I swear I ain't!" cried Brent, bringing down his huge fist on the table. "I cud 'ave talked about it when they sat on the corpse; but I didn't. I stayed here and shut up. I never told a single soul as I seed Mr. Lovel and Miss Milly walking in the Winding Lane on that night."
This was quite enough. Herne had been right and Lovel had met Milly by appointment on the fatal night. Therefore the alibi proved by Mother Jimboy was a deception to defeat the ends of justice; and Lovel was in league with the gipsy. Paul began to believe that he might have killed Milly after all; but he resolved to question Brent further before coming to so important a conclusion.
"Well, I daresay Mr. Lovel was mistaken," said Paul, genially; "it would be dangerous for him were it known that he met Miss Lester on that night."
"I don't see it!" growled Brent.
"I do; and so does Mr. Lovel; that is why he asked me to see if you had kept silence. If it was known that Mr. Lovel was in the Winding Lane on that night, he might be accused of the murder."
"Let 'em accuse!" said Brent, grimly, "they can't prove he killed the gal. And I knows he didn't, else I'd not held my tongue. If he was a murderer, I'd get him hanged for all his five pounds!"
"Then you are certain Mr. Lovel is innocent?"
"Yes, I am."
"And you know who is guilty?"
"I ain't sure of that," replied Brent, after a pause; "but I saw her creeping after Mr. Lovel and the gal, and when I heard the shot, I ses: 'She's done it!'"
"She? Who?" asked Paul, much excited.
"Why, Miss Clyde, o' Clyde's Farm. Who else?" replied Brent, coolly.
"Miss Clyde!" said Paul, staring at his informant; "but what was she doing in the Winding Lane at so late an hour?"
"Watchin' Miss Lester, of course, sir!"
"Why? For what reason?"
Brent laughed in a coarse manner, and there was a leer on his face as he replied to this question. "Don't y' know, sir, Miss Clyde's sweet on Mr. Lovel, and she 'ated Miss Lester like pisin?"
"Are you sure?"
"Sure?" returned Brent, with contempt--"why, ain't I bin ploughman on Clyde's Farm for years? an' ain't I 'eard arl the talk o' the maids? 'Tis well known theer as Miss Clyde 'ud give 'er ears to be Missus Lovel!"
"And you think she killed Miss Lester out of jealousy?"
"I'm sure she did, sir. Wot wos she doin' in th' lane creepin' arter them? Why wasn't she 'ome at the Farm? Oh, no, sir; she did it, for I knows the kin' of temper she 'as! Mad bulls is nothin' to it!"
"Then Dr. Lester is innocent!" said Paul, half to himself.
"Niver thowt he were guilty," returned Brent, drily.
"Then why didn't you come forward at the inquest and confess all this, so as to save an innocent man from arrest?"
Brent reared himself to a giant height, and he laid down his pipe on the table. "Whoy didn't I," he thundered--'"cause I wished t' be honourable for that there money! If I'd said I seed Miss Clyde, I'd have had to say why she wos theer, wouldn't I? and cud I 'ave said she were watchin' Mr. Lovel and the gal when the five pounds were given to me to 'old my tongue? It was either tell arl or shut up," concluded Brent, dropping back into his seat, "so I shut up."
Paul nodded. "It was the only thing you could do," he said, musingly; "but I must see Miss Clyde and get the truth out of her."
"An' y' mus' see Mr. Lovel," said Brent, heavily. "I ain't goin' to let the doctor be strung oop. Let Mr. Lovel git away t' Americy, an' then I'll tell arl I've told you about Miss Clyde and Mr. Lovel, an' th' perlice will let t' doctor out o' gaol."
"No doubt," said Mexton, rising. "And in the meantime, Brent, you had better hold your tongue until I give you leave to speak."
"I shan't speak till Mr. Lovel ses 'es I can," said Brent, doggedly.
"I'll see Mr. Lovel about that, Brent. In the meantime, as I said before, hold your tongue. If Inspector Drek knew what you have done you would get into trouble."
"Shan't, sir, if y' don't tell him!"
"I don't intend to tell him," rejoined Paul, coldly. "I'll thrash out this matter for myself. If Miss Clyde killed that poor girl, she must suffer for her crime."
"I 'ope they'll string 'er oop!" said Brent, vindictively. "I 'ate 'er; she turned me off wi'oot a character."
Paul shrugged his shoulders at this last speech, which betrayed the motive for Brent's accusation, and went away from the inn. It was now growing late, and he had to return to his duties in Marborough. There was no time to ride out two miles and see Miss Clyde; nor, if there had been, would Paul have sought an interview so soon after the conversation with Brent. He wished for a quiet time to consider all that had been told to him; to marshal his facts and to draw deductions therefrom. The truth is, Mexton was becoming bewildered by the sudden shifting of the blame from one person to another. At first, on the face of the circumstantial evidence supplied by Eliza, it seemed that Dr. Lester was guilty; and even after the sifting of such evidence by coroner and jury, it had been found strong enough to imprison him pending a more extended trial. Then, by the belief of Herne regarding the bribery--which was afterwards admitted by Brent--and by the declaration of Iris, it appeared that Lovel had committed the crime. Now came the ploughman, who positively asserted that Miss Clyde had killed Milly. Which one of the three witnesses was to be believed? which of the three accused was to be deemed guilty? Paul could not say.
He quite admitted that Miss Clyde, in a moment of jealousy at seeing Lovel with her rival, might have given way to the strong temper which she was known to possess. But it was incredible that she had gone to the Winding Lane with a pistol to designedly murder the girl. The question was: Where had she obtained the weapon wherewith to commit the crime? No doubt she had seen Lovel follow Milly into the lane, and had come after him. That was clear enough; but it did not account for Miss Clyde's possession of a pistol, without which she could not have shot the girl. On the whole, Paul doubted the story of Brent, which was doubtless dictated by a feeling of hatred against the woman who had dismissed him from her employment. By the time he reached Marborough, the journalist had come to the conclusion that Miss Clyde would be able to refute the accusation; and he determined to give her the chance of doing so next day at a personal interview. Paul believed that she would prove her own innocence, and might also offer from her own knowledge some solution of the mystery.
On arriving at his home Paul found that Iris had preceded him, and was seated in the tiny drawing-room with Mrs. Mexton. The widow--for Paul's father had long since departed this life--was a placid, motherly-looking woman, whose mission in life seemed to be the task of comforting the afflicted. In this mission she was now engaged with Iris, and from the more composed looks of the girl it would seem that she had succeeded.
"Well," said Iris, when he made his appearance, "did you find Brent?"
"Yes--and what is more, I made him speak out."
"Did he give you any useful information?"
"He did; so useful that I hope to prove the innocence of Dr. Lester, and secure the arrest of the real murderer."
"Lucas Lovel?"
"No. According to Brent, that gentleman is innocent."
"I told you so, Iris," interjected Mrs. Mexton mildly. "I am sure Mr. Lovel is too much a gentleman to commit so terrible a crime."
"I don't think good birth or good breeding have much to do with the prevention of crime," replied Iris disdainfully; "there is criminality amongst the upper classes, as in the lower, only they sin in a more refined manner. But this is beside the question. What I wish to know is: If Mr. Lovel is not guilty--which I beg leave to doubt--who is?"
"What would you say to Miss Clyde?"
"I should laugh."
"And I," said Mrs. Mexton energetically, "would be utterly disinclined to believe that a Christian gentlewoman would fall to such a depth of degradation."
"Christian gentlewomen, like all others of their sex, are amenable to jealousy," declared Paul, grimly.
"Jealousy!" repeated Iris--"and Miss Clyde was jealous?"
"So Brent says. She loves Lucas Lovel and hated your sister."
"Does Brent say she committed the crime on that motive?"
"Yes; he saw her following the pair in the lane on that night."
"Then Lovel did meet Milly?"
"He did."
"And Mr. Lovel bribed him to hold his tongue?"
"Precisely," assented Paul--"and with a five-pound note."
"Then I tell you what," said Iris, coolly--"Mr. Lovel paid Brent also to accuse Miss Clyde!"
"H'm! It's not improbable," said Mexton, pulling his moustache. "I am more inclined to believe in the guilt of Lovel than in that of Miss Clyde. But I'll see her to-morrow and ask her for an explanation."
"She won't give it."
"In that case I'll tell Drek, and he'll force her to speak."
"Oh, dear! oh, dear!" sighed Mrs. Mexton. "It is truly terrible to think of the way in which we have been brought into contact with crime! And poor Dr. Lester in gaol!"
"He won't be in goal long," said Paul, with a satisfied nod.
"You are going to prove his innocence?" cried Iris, anxiously.
"I am; but I don't intend to leave him in prison until I do so. To-morrow I'll get bail for him, and he will be a free man--at all events till his trial."
"It is very good of you, Paul," said Iris, gratefully; and Mrs. Mexton endorsed the statement with a nod of her head. She was a simple and pious old woman, but not quite the company for two young and ardent people. Her views on the matter of the murder were singularly crude; and the point she dwelt on most was that Lester's loss and arrest were a judgment on him for his long indulgence in the drinking vice. But, knowing him as she had done, the most part of his life, she did not believe he was guilty, and stated this opinion to Iris, who was much comforted thereby.
"I do not love Dr. Lester," she confessed, "and I never approved of my mother's second marriage. All the same, I should be terribly sorry to see him hanged."
"Particularly for a crime of which he is guiltless," said Paul. "By the way, Iris, you will have to return to Barnstead to-morrow for the funeral."
"We are both going over," said Mrs. Mexton, patting the head of Iris. "Poor Milly!"
And then they fell to talking about Milly and her many good qualities; also about her beauty and charm. No mention was made of her faults, seeing that she was dead, and that it is not well to speak evil of those who have gone. Mrs. Mexton exalted Milly into a martyr, and Iris endorsed the canonisation with tears. In the midst of this glorification Paul slipped out and went to the office of the "Tory Times" for a long night's work. He arrived back in the small hours of the morning when Iris had retired; and left for Barnstead after eight o'clock, before she was up. Therefore he did not see her again till the afternoon, when he met her in Barnstead Cemetery at the funeral of her unfortunate half-sister.
As usual, Paul rode over to Barnstead. Independent of his journalistic earnings he had a small income, and it did not cost much to keep a horse in the country. Riding was a great passion with the young man; and he always declared that he thought better when in the saddle than in the study. On this perfect summer morning, however, he was less occupied with fiction than with real life. The murder case absorbed his every thought, and he recognised that the mystery of Milly's case could hardly have been surpassed in the detective novel of the day. He was determined to discover who had killed the girl; and passed rapidly through Barnstead towards Clyde's Farm in order to see the lady, and ascertain what amount of truth there was in Brent's story.
The residence of Miss Clyde was a long, low house, with whitewashed walls and a thatched roof, eminently picturesque, but not at all practical. There was a homely flower-garden before it, filled with marigolds, sweet-williams, southernwood and such-like Old English flowers; these being the peculiar care of Mrs. Drass, who blended gossip with horticulture. When Paul rode up to the gate, she was pottering about with a trowel in her hand, and came to the gate to meet him: but keen-eyed Paul Mexton noted that she did not seem overpleased at his visit.
"This is a surprise, Mr. Mexton!" said she, as he alighted from his horse, and tied the reins to the gatepost. "It is rarely that you honour us with a visit--especially at so early an hour."
"I must apologise for the hour," said Paul, entering the house, conducted by the ex-governess, "but I have to see Miss Clyde on important business."
"About what?" asked Mrs. Drass sharply.
"Pardon me, dear madam," replied Paul, thwarting this curiosity with great blandness, "but I shall explain that to Miss Clyde herself."
Mrs. Drass muttered something which Paul could not hear, and her usually florid face was pale, as she preceded him into the dining-room, where Miss Clyde sat at breakfast. That lady looked cold and composed and masculine as usual; but she could not suppress a start at the sight of Paul.
"So you want to see me on business, Mr. Mexton?" she said, when he had explained himself. "Very good. Come into my study, and we will not be disturbed."
"Can I come also, Selina?" said Mrs. Drass, who was extremely curious.
"Not just now," answered Miss Clyde; "later on I shall send for you."
So Mrs. Drass went back to her flowers with an unsatisfied curiosity, while Paul and Miss Clyde repaired to the room, which the latter dignified with the name of her study. In truth, it was more of a bachelor's den than the apartment of a spinster lady; and its furnishing was an excellent proof of the simplicity of its owner's character. Miss Clyde sat down before the desk, which fronted the window, and pointing out a seat to Paul, waited to hear what he had to say. Knowing her direct and outspoken way of going about things, Paul went directly to the point.
"I have come to see you about this murder, Miss Clyde," he said, looking at her significantly.
"I expected as much," she replied quietly. "But what can I tell you about it?"
"As much as you saw in the Winding Lane on that night," said Mexton boldly.
"Who saw me in the lane?"
"Brent; he saw you following Milly and Mr. Lovel. Were you?"
"Yes; I followed them for a purpose."
"To kill Milly," said Paul, wondering at her coolness.
Miss Clyde shook her head, and opening a drawer, produced therefrom a pistol. "I followed them to obtain that revolver," she said, and handed the weapon to Paul.
It was not to be denied that the conversation between Miss Clyde and the journalist had opened in a highly dramatic fashion. Mexton, prompted by the recollection of Brent's revelation and accusation--had in sufficient plain language accused her of murdering Milly Lester. In answer to this Miss Clyde had placed in his hands a revolver which she admitted having obtained possession of on that fatal night. The unfortunate girl had been shot; Paul asked himself if the crime had been consummated by the weapon which Miss Clyde had produced, and which, in a somewhat dazed fashion, he held in his hand.
"No," said his hostess, reading his thoughts in his face; "Milly was not killed by a shot from that pistol. But she might have been."
"I don't understand what you mean," stammered Paul.
"It is not difficult to understand," rejoined Miss Clyde, shrugging her fine shoulders. "I took that pistol from a would-be murderer."
"Mr. Lovel?"
An angry red flushed the hard face of the woman, and she made a gesture of contempt for the lack of imagination Paul displayed. "Mr. Lovel, indeed!" she said contemptuously. "He had as much to do with the crime as I had! No; I took that pistol from Dr. Lester."
"Lester! Then he is innocent!"
"Entirely. He should not have been arrested."
"Then why did you not prevent his arrest by producing this revolver at the inquest?"
"Oh, I had my reasons for that," said Miss Clyde, with an emphatic nod; "these I will tell you later. In the meantime, Mr. Mexton, please to assure yourself that the revolver you hold in your hand is actually the property of Dr. Lester. Look at the silver plate on the butt."
Paul did so, and on the small silver oval found the name "R. Lester" engraved in Gothic letters. Nodding in his turn, he replaced the weapon on the desk; and as it was loaded, he deduced from such fact another point in favour of Lester.
"I see there are cartridges in all six barrels!" she said quickly.
"Yes; Dr. Lester did not fire even one barrel; so you see he did not kill his daughter."
"Then who did?"
"My dear Mr. Mexton, I know no more than you do!" said Miss Clyde candidly. "I see that from the evidence of Brent--a rascal whom I discharged from my employment--that you suspect me. Well," she laughed in an ironical manner, "I can clear myself; not only can I do so, but I can prove the innocence of Dr. Lester."
"Will you do so to me?" asked Paul eagerly.
Miss Clyde looked him coolly up and down. "Really, Mr. Mexton, I do not see why I should," was her response; "you do not represent the law."
"Not officially. But Inspector Drek has accepted my assistance."
"Has he? And why have you offered it?"
"Because I wish to save Dr. Lester from being judicially murdered."
"I think that lies in my province rather than in yours," said Miss Clyde, smiling; "but I suppose the real reason that you are acting as an amateur detective lies in the fact that you love Miss Link?"
Paul smiled also. "I can't say that I do," he replied; "we are more like brother and sister than anything else. But I don't deny that I am sorry for her on account of her loss."
"You need not be," retorted Miss Clyde with disdain; "there was no love lost between Milly and Iris; in fact, they disliked one another."
"Oh, I should not say that," protested Paul, shocked by her want of sentiment.
"Aye, but I shall say it! Milly was going to marry Mr. Herne, and Iris was in love with him; quite enough motive there for two women to fight."
"No doubt," rejoined Paul, with significance; "jealousy between women has caused many a crime."
"Is that a hit at me?" asked Miss Clyde, good-humouredly: "because, if it is, it falls short of the mark. You infer that I was jealous of that poor dead girl because Lucas Lovel made love to her."
"Report says so."
"Report says many things that are untrue," retorted Miss Clyde contemptuously; "but in this case the gossips were not altogether wrong. I love Mr. Lovel, as you know very well; as all the countryside knows. Why should I conceal my feelings? I have no one to think of but myself, and I can look after myself very well, I assure you. Lucas--I can call him so to you, Mr. Mexton, as this is a confidential conversation--is a scamp, and a weak-minded fool; but I love him for all that. Queer, isn't it?"
Paul looked at the masculine strength of the woman's face, into her shrewd eyes, and at the firm set of her mouth. "It is queer," he admitted; "you do not look the sort of a woman to be attracted by a wastrel like Lovel."
"Nevertheless I am; by the law of contraries no doubt. Well, I admit that I was jealous of his preference for Milly Lester. Her beauty and fascinations of manner excited my envy; and as she had the whole neighbourhood at her feet, I grudged that she should take my ewe-lamb."
"The whole neighbourhood!" echoed Paul.
"Well, Mr. Herne, Mr. Lovel, and Mr. Chaskin. The pick of the countryside."
"Nonsense! Mr. Chaskin did not love Milly!"
"There you are wrong," rejoined Miss Clyde drily. "He adored her, and only crushed down his passion because of his friendship for Herne. Oh, I know it for a fact. Mrs. Drass found it all out."
"She finds out everything!" said Paul tartly--"just like a social detective."
"She does," assented Miss Clyde coolly; "but she is not omniscient, else she would know who killed poor Milly. I find Mrs. Drass very useful, I assure you, Mr. Mexton."
"I quite believe it. But to continue your confession."
"Oh, you need not dignify my story by so great a title! I am not in the dock yet, Mr. Mexton! I assure you I shall prove my innocence to you very plainly. Where was I?"
"You were informing me that Mr. Chaskin was in love with poor Milly."
"Ah! that is a side issue. Mr. Lovel was also in love with the unfortunate girl, and I did not approve of his passion, as I wanted him for myself."
"You were jealous?" said Mexton, more plainspoken than polite.
"I was," said Miss Clyde calmly; "the most unromantic of women have their vein of sentiment--their passion. Lucas is my passion, and I love him dearly. I was very jealous of his preference for Milly, and I was angry with her for encouraging him. She was engaged to Mr. Herne, and should have remained true to him. On the night of the murder I saw Milly leave during the service; and Mr. Lovel followed the moment it was concluded."
"To meet with Milly?" suggested Paul.
"Yes, I thought so; and I was determined to put a stop to such meetings by giving Milly a good talking to, and threatening to tell Mr. Herne. You need not look at me so severely, Mr. Mexton," continued Miss Clyde, throwing back her head. "Milly was behaving badly towards Herne, and even if I had not been in love with the man she was flirting with. I think, as an older woman, and one who had known her from childhood, I had the right to point out to her how wrongly she was acting."
"No doubt, Miss Clyde; but you chose a bad time for such interference."
"I deny that," said the lady tranquilly. "Milly always denied to me that she met with Mr. Lovel; and he lied in the same way. My only chance of reproving the pair properly was to catch them together. Therefore I told John--my groom, you know--to drive on to the house of Dr. Lester, whither Mrs. Drass had gone to consult him; and I went in search of those two young fools."
"Did you find them?" asked Paul, rather foolishly it must be confessed.
"What a question, after what Brent told you!" retorted Miss Clyde. "Yes, I found them--but not at once. Lucas gave me the slip, and I searched for him in the wrong direction--down by the river, where I thought they might be wandering under the willows. They were not there, however, though I wasted some time in looking for them. At length it struck me that they might be in the Winding Lane; and when I got there I saw them sure enough. But I must confess," said Miss Clyde with much disgust, "that I wondered they should choose a place haunted by all the rustic lovers of the neighbourhood."
"There were no rustic lovers on that night."
"No; I believe they had all gone to some revival meeting at the Methodist Chapel. It was half-past eight when I got to the lane, and I saw only Brent coming down towards the village."
"Yes; to meet Jane Bilway in St. Dunstan's Square, and take her to the Methodist Chapel."
"Hm! and he met me apparently following Lucas and Milly," said Miss Clyde; "wherewith he accuses me of the murder. I'll be even with him for that--the brute! As a matter of fact, I did not see the two until I passed Brent; then I espied them walking arm-in-arm towards the stile which leads on to the common."
"Did you speak to them then?"
"No," confessed Miss Clyde frankly, "for to tell you the truth, I did not like the part I was playing. It was too like that of a spy. I stopped at the other end of the lane--near the town--and waited till they should come back, when I intended to meet them as if by accident. But I never saw them again that night. Poor Milly!" sighed Miss Clyde, "I little thought I had looked on her pretty face for the last time."
"How was it you did not see them again?" asked Paul curiously.
"Because they did not return to where I was; stopped to talk at the stile, no doubt. I waited for ten minutes, and then I heard a man singing and shouting. He came from the town, and could not get over the stile into the lane. I heard him saying something about killing Lovel, and I noted that he held a pistol. At once I went up to him, and found--as I expected from his condition--that it was Dr. Lester."
"Quite drunk?"
"Senselessly drunk, but able to stumble along. I thought that if he met Lucas in the company of his daughter he might fire at him, so I dismissed all idea of seeing the young people again and devoted myself to getting rid of Dr. Lester. I took the pistol off him, and being quite incapable of resistance, he gave it up readily enough. Then I wheeled him round, and taking his arm, I led him home."
"What!" cried Paul, starting up, "did you take him back to his house?"
"I attempted to," said Miss Clyde; "but he turned restive, and wanted to go back to the lane. I then coaxed him out into the country, on the road to my own house. But I only got him a very little way when he suddenly became too drunk to stand, so I dragged him into some bushes beside the road, and as it was a fine night, I left him there to recover his senses. I suppose he stayed there till dawn, and then made his way home."
"What did you do?"
"I put the revolver into my pocket and walked home. The next morning I heard of the murder, and of Dr. Lester's arrest."
"Did you hear the shot?"
"No; I suppose I was too far on my road homeward to hear it, or else I was not paying attention. At all events, I heard nothing."
"Why did you not tell all this to Drek, and prevent the arrest of Lester?"
"My friend," said Miss Clyde, gravely, "I was determined to give Dr. Lester a lesson--such a lesson that in future he might restrain himself from indulging in drink. I thought, when I heard that he was arrested, that the thought that he had killed his own child might induce him to take the pledge. If this lesson does not teach him temperance, nothing will; for if I had not taken the pistol off him, he might have killed, if not Milly, at least Lucas. I intended to go to Drek to-morrow and tell him the truth, and get Lester bailed out of gaol."
"Your lesson is rather a severe one," said Paul thoughtfully; "but perhaps it is needed. If anything can make a sober man of Lester, his imprisonment on such an awful charge will change him. I remember now that he confessed at the inquest that he met someone, but was too confused to say whether it was a man or a woman. It must have been you."
"Yes, it was I, Mr. Mexton. While I was leading him away from the Winding Lane I did not see a soul. As to the red mud on his clothes, you remember I told you how he fell while trying to get over the stile."
"I see you can clear Lester," said Paul with emphasis, "but what about Lovel?"
"Well," said Miss Clyde interrogatively--"you don't suspect him of the crime?"
"I don't know; you left him with Milly!"
"I daresay; at twenty-five minutes to nine; but he no doubt left her before nine o'clock, when the murder was committed."
"He can't prove that."
"He hasn't had a chance of doing so," retorted Miss Clyde, visibly disturbed.
"Pardon me; he had at the inquest, and he lied."
"Well, we won't discuss that," said Miss Clyde, rising. "I am sure Mr. Lovel is innocent, and can prove his innocence if needful. I have told you all I know, Mr. Mexton, and I'll tell Drek to-morrow. I suppose I'll see you at the funeral this afternoon?"
"Yes," said Paul, gravely. "I shall be at the funeral," and then the two parted.