If Torry had found that Donna Maria was an obstinate woman he speedily discovered that Mr. Leighbourne was a fool. Old, narrow-minded, and egotistical, the banker was one of those pig-headed men who are the despair of reasonable mortals. Once an idea was put into his head it could not be got out again, and he constantly referred to his age and worldly experience as legitimate reasons for his entertaining the most preposterous ideas. He resembled closely those dogged, mulish Kings, Charles I. and Louis XVI., and was as bad to deal with as the two of them rolled into one. Never was there a man less open to conviction.
This unpleasant old person regarded his late partner as a martyr, and beyond a tendency to rash speculation, he could not be got to see that Grent had any faults. He denied that Grent could, by any possibility, have taken the money; he declined to believe that the good man had contemplated eloping with Lydia Hargone, and pointedly insulted Torry for daring to make such statements. The end of the interview was that Torry left in a rage, and vowed that he would not see Mr. Leighbourne again until he could prove the truth of his declarations. He might have saved himself the trouble, for the banker was determined to canonise his partner, and in the true spirit of bigotry, would rather have suffered death than believe any single statement detrimental to his intention. By the time the conversation with Leighbourne was ended Torry felt inclined to commit murder himself, and regretted that this patriarchal ass had not been killed instead of Grent.
In the hope of finding some consolation after his late trying interview, Torry flew as hard as a hansom could take him, to Darrel's rooms. But here he fell out of the frying-pan into the fire, for Blake was with the novelist, and appeared to be in a great rage. He was quarrelling with Darrel, who was trying to pacify him, but on seeing the detective he immediately left his friend to attack the newcomer.
"Here is the man himself," cried Roderick furiously. "Come, sir, what have you to say to the scandalous way in which you have behaved towards Miss Hargone?"
"Oh, oh!" said Torry, leisurely taking a seat, "so she has set you on to me has she?"
"No she hasn't," almost shouted Blake; "but she complained that you insulted her."
"If I did, Mr. Blake, it was in the exercise of my duty. I asked Miss Hargone for certain information which I knew she possessed, and she declined to give it to me. As to insulting the lady I did no such thing."
"There Blake," said Darrel, soothingly, "that is a very reasonable and polite explanation; so instead of bawling at the pitch of your voice, suppose you sit down and discuss the matter like a Christian."
Still looking red and angry the Irishman flung himself petulantly into a chair. "I am willing to hear what you have to say, Mr. Torry," he growled sulkily, but with the dignified air of one who awaits an explanation.
"I--I have nothing to say. I have rather something to ask."
"What is that?"
"Why did Miss Hargone send Julia to meet Grent in her mantle?"
"She did not. The mantle she gave to the girl as a wedding gift."
"Strange that she should give it to her on the very day of the murder."
"Not at all. It seems to me Mr. Torry, that you suspect Miss Hargone of complicity in this crime?"
"I fancy she knows something about it."
"Then permit me to tell you, sir, that she does not. That old scamp of a Grent tried to make love to her, and she repulsed him. Why, then, should she have agreed to go away with him, and leave me, to whom she was engaged--and is engaged," finished Blake.
"Oh!" said Torry sarcastically, "you have no money."
"What of that. Grent was ruined by speculation when he died. He had no money."
"I beg your pardon; he had ten thousand pounds!"
"The money of the society; you can't prove that he had it!"
"I hope to do so soon," retorted Torry, nettled by the sneer.
Blake rose to his feet, and put on his hat. "I shall argue no more," he said wrathfully. "You believe that the lady, who is to be my wife, is connected with these crimes; so, to me, they become a personal matter. I wanted to assist in finding the assassin out of sheer idleness; now I intend to discover the truth, in order to clear the character of Miss Hargone."
"I hope you will be successful," murmured Darrel.
"Certainly I shall be successful," retorted Blake, pausing at the door. "I am convinced that the Blue Mummy Society killed these two wretched people: and, I tell you, Manuel is the criminal. When you see me again, Mr. Torry, I shall bring you such proofs of his guilt that even you will be convinced. In the meantime, I wish you every success; but I warn you that you are working on wrong lines. Leave off suspecting ladies who are innocent, and devote yourself, as I intend to do, to hunting down the iniquitous Association of the Mummy. Then you will learn the truth. Good-day!"--and, finishing thus abruptly, Blake put on his hat, and took himself off, leaving Torry and Darrel looking at each other in some doubt.
"There is a good deal of sense in what he says," remarked Darrel. "After all, the Blue Mummy is the main clue."
"Clue or not," said Torry, "I know that Manuel is innocent."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the ten thousand pounds has been brought back."
"You don't say so!" cried Frank, greatly surprised. "Well, fact does beat fiction in realising impossibilities. The same bank notes brought back. Well, well! it is most extraordinary."
"Not the same bank notes," corrected Torry, cautiously. "The same amount of money, but the numbers of the notes are different. Whosoever stole the notes has changed them all, and returned others. But, you see, Manuel cannot have killed Grent for the sake of that money; as, in that case, he would not restore his plunder. He is innocent, as I said before."
"Then who is guilty?"
"The man who restored those notes," said Torry promptly.
"How were they restored?"
"A red-haired, red-bearded man called at Manuel's hotel last night and gave them to the porter."
"A red wig again! the same as Grent wore," said Frank, musingly. "That is strange. There is no possibility of the man being traced?"
"No! He came out of the darkness fulfilled his mission, and vanished again into the night. Nothing is known of him. Still, you may find him."
"I!" exclaimed Frank amazed. "You jest!"
"Indeed, I am quite in earnest!" protested Torry. "Listen! I left the tracing of the numbers of the stolen notes to Grent's bank, but all these weeks the bank has failed to obtain information. I fear, therefore, that they have bungled the matter, and I wish to place it in more capable hands--yours, for instance."
"I fear I can do little, Torry!"
"A man with brains can do anything," retorted the detective. "See here, Mr. Darrel, this is a list of the numbers of the original notes which were stolen from the private safe; and here is another with the numbers of the restored notes. Now, you take these two lists, and go round to every bank in the United Kingdom until you find the changed notes. Then discover who changed them. If you are successful----"
"Well!" said Darrel, taking the lists, "if I am successful?"
"In that case," finished Torry, "the mystery, which has perplexed us so long, will be at an end."
"You mean, we shall catch the assassin?"
"Yes; the assassin who changed these notes."
"But, I say," said Darrel doubtfully, "you have yet to prove that Grent had the ten thousand pounds on him when he was murdered."
"I'll prove that when you find out who changed the notes."
"By forcing the assassin to confess?"
"No! In another way. I am beginning to see light in all this darkness."
"Another theory?"
"Well, yes; but one which will shortly be changed into fact. You go, Mr. Darrel, and fulfil your mission; I shall remain here to work at the case in my own way. But for the satisfactory solution of this criminal problem, I depend upon one thing."
"And that one thing, Mr. Torry?"
"It's chance! Chance, sir, which solves nine riddles out of ten."
"That is not very complimentary to the detective profession."
"Detectives," said Torry with a shrug, "only work miracles--in novels."
After making this statement Torry walked to the door; but there pausing for a moment or so, turned towards Darrel.
"By the way," said he, "the restoration of those bank notes is known only to four people--yourself, Vass, myself and Manuel. You need not mention the fact to anyone else. It would be wiser not to do so."
"Why?" asked Frank looking up.
"Because the person who restored them may inadvertently hint at the restitution; and if nothing is said about it openly, he will thus condemn himself."
"Perhaps so Torry; but there is one person I should like to mention the matter to."
"Who is that?"
"Donna Maria. Like yourself, I fancy she knows something, and is shielding someone. Should I trace the person who changed these notes, he may turn out to be the individual she is shielding. If I tell her the name, and assure her that restitution has been made, she may tell all she knows."
Torry nodded his head approvingly. "There is something in that," said he. "I give you leave to make a confidant of Donna Maria; but let me tell you, sir, if you succeed in getting a confession out of her, you will be the cleverest man in the world."
"I'll take my chance of that!" replied Darrel, and they parted.
For the next week Torry was engaged in advertising for the tramp who had found the body of Julia Brawn. It struck him that Julia might have worn some jewellery--a brooch, a ring, or a locket--of which the tramp had probably robbed her. Could he see such jewellery, he might find some trace of her supposed lover; since lovers usually make such gifts to those they adore. Of course, the idea was purely theoretical, and it might probably turn out to be worth nothing. Still, Torry was like a drowning man clutching at a straw. The advertising for the lost tramp was the straw he grasped at.
While thus engaged, Darrel made his appearance in a state of great excitement, and announced that he had been successful. In a suburban bank he had discovered traces of two of the original notes which had been exchanged for two others which bore the numbers of those restored.
"Evidently," he said, "the man changed them before the date of the murder, and substituted the second lot so that they could not be traced by Manuel's list."
"That is a truism," cried Torry impatiently.
"I know the notes were changed, and the reason for changing them. But who is the man who did so?"
"Can't you guess his name?" asked Darrel.
"No," retorted Torry sharply, "I can't!"
"It was Frederick Leighbourne."
For once in his life Torry was dumbfounded. He sat with staring eyes, his mouth open, and his face red, gasping like a fish out of water. Of all the names connected with the Grent case Frederick Leighbourne was the last he expected to hear.
"It is impossible," said he, on recovering his speech.
"It is the truth; the manager of the Hampstead bank told me so. He knows Leighbourne, and said that Leighbourne had no wish to deny who he was."
Torry jumped up and made for the door, dragging Darrel along with him. "Come on," said he quickly; "we must see Leighbourne at once."
"Do you intend to arrest him?"
"If I see cause to."
"You'll see no cause of his shewing," retorted Darrel, as they went downstairs and hailed a cab.
"The man will lie freely."
"Naturally, to save his own neck."
"What! You don't think Leighbourne killed Grent?"
"I don't think anything about it," was Torry's impatient response. "I am not capable of thinking, as the news has taken me by surprise. Oh, what ignorant fools the best of us are! Well, we will see if Leighbourne, junior, has an explanation."
As it turned out young Frederick had an explanation on the tip of his tongue, and a very feasible one it proved to be. In place of shrinking from an inquiry into the motives of his conduct, he assumed an attitude of outraged virtue, and courted Torry's questions. By his own explanation there was never so upright and badly treated a gentleman as Frederick Leighbourne, Esquire.
"You dare to connect me with the committal of this crime because I changed the notes!" he cried, white with suppressed fury. "What right have you, or either one of you, to make so scandalous a statement?"
"You changed the notes," said Torry feebly, wondering if he was wrong in suspecting the man.
"Yes, sir I did. I changed the notes at the request of Mr. Grent."
"At the request of Mr. Grent?" repeated Darrel.
"Why?"
"Because Captain Manuel, who gave Grent the notes, wished it."
"That isn't true!" cried Torry. "Manuel was as astonished as I, that the notes had been changed."
"I don't know about that," retorted Leighbourne sullenly. "All I know is that a fortnight before his murder, Mr. Grent asked me down to Wray House and told me that he wanted my assistance in some rather delicate business. As he was my partner and my father's, I of course, professed my willingness to serve him. Do you blame me?"
"No; quite right, quite natural. But what was the business?"
"Mr. Grent explained that when in Peru he had become mixed up with some native society. This year the Government of the Republic tried to break it up and seize the funds, so the members fled to other countries with the moneys of the society. One of these members was Captain Manuel, who brought to England the sum of ten thousand pounds, which he changed into English bank-notes valued at five hundred pounds each. As he knew that Grent sympathised with the aims of the society----"
"What were the aims of the society?" interrupted Darrel.
"Some patriotic rubbish of restoring the Inca rule," said Leighbourne crossly. "But at all events, Grent sympathised with this aim, so Manuel asked him to take charge of the money, and it was kept down in Wray House. Then, according to Grent's story, Manuel came to him, and said he was afraid that the Peruvian Government might discover the numbers of the notes and render them valueless by explaining to the English Government that they were forfeited moneys. To prevent this he asked Grent to change the notes for others of a like value but different numbers. Grent, being so well known in the banking world, was unwilling to change the notes personally, so he asked me to do so. I agreed and I did so."
"Why did you not change them at the bank of England?"
"Manuel objected to that being done, on account of the Peruvian Government, so by Grent's directions, I went round to several suburban banks and so explained the matter that I got all the notes changed without difficulty. I gave them all back to Grent, who kept them at Wray House; then, on the Friday before he intended to start for Italy, he brought them up here and gave them to Vass to put in the safe. That is all I know."
"And quite sufficient," said Torry wrathfully. "Why did you not tell us all this before?"
"For two reasons. One was that Grent asked me to hold my tongue; the other because I was afraid lest you should accuse me of being concerned in this murder, as you have done," finished Leighbourne, with a scowl.
"Well, well," said Torry good-humouredly, "you have defended yourself very well against the implied accusation."
"Implied accusation!" echoed Frederick, with scorn.
"My very words," retorted Torry drily. "I did not accuse you of being an accessory to the crime or the criminal himself. I did not even ask you if you had stolen the notes. I merely asked how it came about that you changed them."
"Well, now you know," said Leighbourne insolently; "and as I have explained myself, perhaps you and your friend will take yourself off."
Deeming this rude speech unworthy of reply, Darrel left the room without taking leave of the banker, but Torry halted at the door to fire a parting shot.
"Young man," said he, wagging an admonitory forefinger at Leighbourne, "pride goes before a fall; remember that," and leaving the young man to digest this unpalatable proverb at his leisure, Torry followed the novelist.
"What are you going to do?" asked the latter, when they were in the street.
"I am going to see Captain Manuel, and see if he really countenanced the changing of the bank-notes," replied Torry; "and you?"
"I intend to go at once to Wray House and see Miss Sandoval."
"You wish to find out what she knows?"
"Yes. I'll try and persuade her to tell me the truth."
"You'll be a clever man if you do that, sir. Well, good-bye and good luck," and Torry turned away. "I say!" he called out.
"Yes," said Darrel, with his foot on the step of a hansom.
The detective retraced his steps, and spoke in a low tone. "I am convinced of one thing," he said hastily. "Grent had those notes changed so that he could bolt with them. I don't believe Manuel asked him to change them.
"Leighbourne says he did."
"Yes, because Grent told him to say so. That good man deceived both Manuel and Leighbourne. He had the notes on him when he was murdered."
"Oh," sighed Darrel, with a groan, "how you hold to that theory!"
"Because it is a true one," said Torry sharply, "and sooner or later I am sure we shall be able to prove it is a fact. Good-bye."
Frank shrugged his shoulders and drove off to Waterloo Station, where in half an hour he took a fast train to Wraybridge. He had not much faith in Torry's theory, as, with his trained sense of logical argument, he could not see how Grent, in the face of Vass's assertion, could have become possessed of the money. He tried to think about the matter, but love, as usual, interfered with business, and when he recollected that he would soon see Donna Maria he surrendered himself to delicious fancies about the coming interview. She--Frank had got the length of calling Donna Maria "she"--she would be cold, she would be amicable, she would smile, she would frown, she would do a hundred and one contradictory things not likely to occur. Truly Frank Darrel was a very foolish young gentleman to indulge in so confused a reverie. But he was only twenty-five and he was in love--two excuses that cover the follies of the majority of mortals.
Shewn into the presence of his goddess, the worshipper grew red and confused, rather to the surprise of Donna Maria as she had no notion of the inflamed state of his heart. To put him at his ease, she sought to induce speech by asking him what he wished to see her about. Then Frank became more confused than ever, for he did not very well know how to begin. However, as a beginning had to be made, he spoke to the point and in a brusque way, by reason of his modesty.
"I have come to tell you how the case is getting on," he said hurriedly.
"That is very kind of you," replied Donna Maria, half smiling at his humour, although she secretly wondered what could be the cause of it. "Has anything been discovered about my poor uncle's murder?"
"Not so much that, as about the bank-notes."
"The bank-notes?" Donna Maria turned pale and spoke nervously.
"Yes, the ten thousand pounds which was stolen from the safe. The money has been returned to Captain Manuel."
Donna Maria rose suddenly. "It can't be!" she cried, making a step towards the astonished Frank. "I tell you it can't be!"
"But it is, Miss Sandoval. Captain Manuel has the money now in his possession."
"Then the assassin of my uncle has been arrested?"
"No, I'm sorry to say he has----"
"Not arrested?" cried Donna Maria, her colour rising and her eyes sparkling, "and the money returned?"
"The money was returned by an unknown man," said Frank, "and he went away after delivering the parcel of notes at Captain Manuel's hotel."
"Then that was the assassin. He took the money from my uncle's dead body. In fact, I believe he killed Mr. Grent in order to rob him."
"But how can that be?" cried Darrel, much perplexed. "Mr. Grent left the money in his private safe, and did not come back to get it. How could he have been in possession of the money on that night?"
Maria passed her hand across her forehead and sighed. "True! True! What am I to do? Oh,"--she wrung her hands--"If I could only speak!"
"You must speak," said Frank, seizing his opportunity, "or else condemn an innocent man."
"An innocent man? Who?"
"Mr. Frederick Leighbourne. We have found out that he changed some of the notes, so it is just possibly that he may be accused of the robbery."
"No, no," cried Maria, much agitated, "it cannot be. Mr. Leighbourne did not take that money out of the safe, I can prove it."
"Then do so, and save him from possible arrest."
The girl looked wildly round the room, then she ran to the window, sprang back to open the door and close it again; finally she paused before Frank and seized his hand. The touch thrilled him.
"Mr. Darrel," she said hurriedly, "you are a gentleman, and I will trust you. I have kept silent out of fear of the Blue Mummy Society, but I shall do so no longer. Mr. Leighbourne did not take the money out of the safe, but I can tell you who did."
"Captain Manuel?" asked Darrel with a start.
"No," she said slowly. "Maria Sandoval!"
"You! You!"
"I--I took the money and gave it to Mr. Grent."
The information was so unexpected and terrible that Frank felt the blood leave his cheeks. Pale as a ghost, he rose from his chair, and looked at Donna Maria with dilated eyes. From her confession he fancied that she must be implicated in the double crime, and a feeling of terror seized him at the idea of the woman he loved having brought herself within the reach of the law. Donna Maria saw his expression, and with the swift instinct of a woman, guessed his thoughts. With a haughty gesture she hung back her head, and her eyes sparkled like stars on a frosty night as she spoke to him.
"Oh, don't think I have done anything wrong!" she cried defiantly. "What I did was at the request of my uncle. Sit down, Mr. Darrel, and I'll tell you the story in detail."
She pointed to his chair with a regal gesture, and when he resumed his seat faced him with a wonderfully composed look. She began her confession--as it may be called--tamely enough; but as the story became more dramatic she warmed to her work, and finished with all the fire, and fury, and gesticulation of her Southern nature. Frank, sympathising with her quick spirit, was enthralled by her beauty, moved by her eloquence, and felt that here was a woman to die for.
"When my uncle took leave of us here to go to Italy," she said, "He called me into his study, and, after asking me not to reveal what he was about to tell me, made a confession. That I reveal it now is to save an innocent man from arrest."
"True enough, Miss Sandoval. But the confession?"
"Was that when in Lima ten years ago--at which time he married my aunt--he had become entangled with a certain association called----"
"The Peruvian Patriots," interrupted Frank. "I know all about that society and it's blue mummies. Go on, please."
"Well, Mr. Grent was bound in some way--I don't know how--to assist this society, under penalty of death. He married, and came to England, and thought he would hear no more about the matter. But this year, Captain Manuel, with that ten thousand pounds which belonged to the Peruvian Patriots, came to London, and called to see my uncle. In his hands--after reminding him of his connection with the society--Manuel placed the money, and told him to look after it. My uncle did so, and kept it in this house. A week before his murder he found on this table a Blue Mummy."
"Ah! a Blue Mummy--the sign of death."
"Precisely; and with it a letter stating that the money was to be paid by my uncle to another member of the society, called Centa--a man whom my uncle had never seen. Failing this, the letter said that Mr. Grent would be killed. Now," continued Maria, "My uncle was so terrified at the thought of being secretly assassinated--for he knew the power and recklessness of the society--that he resolved to obey this letter."
"How did he know that the letter was authentic?"
"By the Blue Mummy. Only members of the Peruvian Patriots possess these tomb-images, and they are not obtainable in England, or, for the matter of that, in Peru either."
"H'm! I suppose he was right to believe in the letter? Well, so he resolved to obey it, and hand the money over to this mysterious Centa?"
"Yes; but he wished to do so without letting Manuel know, as he was afraid lest Manuel, enraged at the want of faith shewn to him by the society, might take the law into his own hands, and assassinate him."
Darrel could not help laughing. "My dear lady," said he, "I am afraid Mr. Grent must have been a very credulous man. The law does not countenance wholesale murder in this country, whatever it may do in Peru."
"But you forget!" cried Donna Maria angrily. "My uncle's foreboding came true. He was murdered by the society, as the token of the Blue Mummy left beside him proves; but whether by Manuel or Centa I cannot say."
"Why," said Frank thoughtfully, "there is something in that; but we'll discuss the point later. Please continue."
"Well, Mr. Darrel, my uncle determined to take the money up to the bank in Fleet-Street, and put it in his private safe. Then he intended to write a letter to Manuel, asking him to call at his rooms in Duke-Street on Saturday afternoon. He designed to tell Manuel that the money was in the bank, and that if he wanted to see it there, he could ask Mr. Vass to show it to him. In the meantime I was to go to the bank on Saturday morning, on the pretence of getting the tickets for the journey, which had been purposely left behind, and get the money."
"But how were you to open the safe?"
"Why, Mr. Grent gave me his private key."
"Oh, I understand; but," added Darrel, "if you were to take away the money, and Captain Manuel was to be told in the afternoon that he could see it in the safe, the whole thing would come out, as the money would not be there for him to see."
"Not at all. You forget that it was Saturday, and Captain Manuel could not look into the safe before Monday morning. Now, my uncle intended to give the money to Centa on Saturday night, and then go off to Italy; so, you see, there was absolutely no danger."
"A very pretty plot," said Darrel drily. "So you agreed to assist in it?"
Donna Maria flushed red, and responded rather haughtily: "I am from Lima, and I know how terrible is the vengeance of the Peruvian Patriots when they are betrayed. I assisted my uncle to save his life."
"So it all fell out as planned?"
"Yes! Mr. Grent took the money up on Friday, and placed it in the safe, with Mr. Vass as a witness. Then he went to his rooms, and telegraphed to me to do my part. I went up on Saturday morning on the pretence of getting the tickets, and saw Mr. Vass in my uncle's private room. To get rid of him, I asked him for a glass of water. He left the room, and I at once opened the safe with the key given to me by my uncle. When Mr. Vass returned with the water the safe was locked again, and I had the notes in my pocket. In the afternoon I went to Mr. Grent's rooms, and gave him the money; then I said good-bye, and came away: My uncle told me that he had seen Captain Manuel."
"Yes, I know Manuel called; Meek said so; and I suppose Grent told him to look into the safe on Monday. As a matter of fact, he did not do so until Tuesday or Wednesday, and then Vass discovered the loss. But tell me, how did Mr. Grent hope to pacify Manuel?"
"By absence. He intended to write from Italy, and tell him that he had given the money to Centa; and, as he proposed to remain abroad for some time, he thought that Manuel's anger would abate, and he would not wish to harm him when he returned."
"I see," said Frank thoughtfully. "I must say that Mr. Grent provided for his own safety remarkably well."
"And all in vain, poor man," sighed Maria, "since he was killed by the society!"
"I don't believe he was," said Darrel bluntly.
"But the Mummy--the Blue Mummy?"
"What about the returned money, Miss Sandoval? Why should the society instruct Manuel, or Centa, to kill Grent and rob his body, then give back the money to itself? That's robbing Peter to pay Paul with a vengeance."
"So it is. I can't understand it at all."
"Then again," said Frank warming, "did you not take two tickets from the bank?"
"I don't know. Mr. Grent mentioned only one ticket, and it was in an envelope. But now you mention it, Mr. Darrel, the envelope was rather thick; there might have been two tickets."
"There were; one for Mr. Grent, the other for Miss Hargone. She had arranged to elope with Grent; at least, she fooled him into believing so, but instead of going she sent Julia Brawn, disguised in that fawn-coloured mantle. Then Grent was killed."
"By whom?" asked Maria, much agitated.
"I can't say. Perhaps that Centa you speak of got wind that Grent was bolting with the money to Italy, and followed to kill him. But who can tell? It is all a mystery."
"I don't wish to speak ill of the dead," said Maria, with a sigh, "but it seems to me that my uncle was acting very badly. That he should deceive my poor aunt, who loved him so!" And a tear trickled down her face.
Darrel said nothing, but he was quite satisfied that he knew the extent of Grent's villainy. He had stolen the ten thousand pounds in such a way as to throw the blame on Vass, and he had intended to fly to South America with Lydia Hargone, deserting his wife for a woman who had deceived him at last. But Providence, which rules all things, had thwarted his evil plans, and instead of getting away with the fruits of his iniquity he had met with a cruel death at the hands of an unknown man. As he had sown, so had he reaped.
"Let me ask you one thing," said Darrel, as he took his leave: "why did you not tell us this before?"
"Because, in the first place, I promised my uncle to keep silent; and in the second, he told me that if I spoke the society--since he hoped to escape it--might kill my aunt. It was for her sake that I kept silent."
"Lies! Lies! Lies!" thought Darrel. "What a liar Grent was."
When he got back to town he saw Torry and told him the whole story, whereat the detective was much pleased.
"Didn't I say Grent had the money!" said he, slapping his thigh. "What a plot to get it, the cunning old fox! I'm almost loth to catch and hang the man who killed him."
"The hare runs yet on the mountains," said Darrel drily, and took his leave of the jubilant detective to go home and dream of Maria. The interview with her had left him more in love than ever.
Next morning he was hardly awake when Torry, wildly excited, burst into his bedroom, and executed a kind of war-dance. "I've found the tramp who robbed the dead body of Julia Brawn," he cried, "and he gave up this locket, which he took from her neck. See, see! It is of gold, with the letters 'G.V. to J.B.' That is the lover to the lass."
"The lover of Julia Brawn?" said Darrel, jumping out of bed.
"Yes, yes; the man who was with her on that night. The man who killed Grent."
"But his name--his name?"
"Look at the initials, G.V.--Gustavus Vass. He is the murderer!"
Here was a discovery. Of all men Torry had least suspected Vass, as he had doubted the courage and nerve of so effeminate a creature. Yet if according to the evidence of the locket, he was the lover of Julia Brawn; and if he had followed her out of jealousy on that fatal night, there was no doubt that he had killed Grent. Torry explained all this to Darrel, as that young gentleman was dressing.
"If this, if that, if the other thing," said Frank doubtfully; "much virtue in if, as Shakspere says. Admitting that Vass was Julia's lover--which certainly seems probable, judging from the initials on the locket--you cannot prove that he was with Julia on that night. She alone could give evidence, and she is dead."
Torry nodded. "I admit there are links wanting," he said; "but as I am absolutely certain that Vass is the man we want, it only remains to force a confession out of him by sheer terror."
"How can you do that?"
The detective smiled meaningly, and from his breast-pocket produced a warrant against Vass.
"I got this an hour ago," he said, "as soon as I learnt the truth from the locket, I have sent a note asking Vass to come here and see you. Then, by means of this warrant, I shall so play on his fears that he will confess the truth."
"And so fall out of the frying-pan into the fire," said Darrel cynically. "If he holds his tongue, you arrest him on suspicion; if he confesses, you arrest him on certainty. So, in either case, he is bound to go to gaol. Silence is golden in his case, Torry; he won't confess."
"He might not if he was a hardened criminal," said the detective coolly. "But the man is a weak, hysterical fool, alive with nerves. He wept at the news of Grent's death; he fainted on seeing the Blue Mummy. A man who has so little command over himself will not be difficult to coerce into confession."
"When is he to be here?"
Torry glanced at his watch. "Ten thirty," he said, "and it is almost that now. I say, Mr. Darrel, it was a lucky thought of mine that the tramp might have robbed the dead body."
"It was! What made you think of it?"
"Well, he stole the knife in the first place, so I judged he would help himself to whatever valuables he could find. It seems he did and pawned the locket he stole. Then he saw one of my handbills offering a reward, and turned up last night to tell me the truth. I went with him to the pawn-shop, redeemed the locket, paid my friend two pounds and congratulated myself that the initials on the locket implicated Vass."
"Are you sure the initials are his?"
"Quite sure. When I first met him I ascertained that his name was Gustavus, so G.V. can stand for nothing else than Gustavus Vass; the name is an uncommon one. Besides, he must have guessed that the unexpected visit of Donna Maria had to do with the transference of the money to Grent."
"Oh, oh!" said Frank, turning round from the mirror at which he was brushing his hair. "So you think the motive of the crime is robbery, not jealousy."
"Both! The motive of the first crime was robbery, of the second jealousy--and perhaps a trifle of vengeance."
"I don't understand."
"It is not difficult," replied Torry with a shrug. "Listen! In some way, I can't say how--Vass became aware that Julia, at the instigation of Miss Hargone, was to meet Grent in Mortality-lane. He watched and followed, witnessed the interview, and when Grent gave the money to Julia, sprang forward in a fit of jealous rage and killed him. Then he forced Julia into the cab, and drove to the end of Northumberland-Avenue. He took her down to Cleopatra's Needle on some pretence, killed her out of revenge for her betraying him, and robbed her of the money. Then he tried to throw her body into the river, but was interrupted and fled. That is my theory, and a very nice one it is."
"It would be better," responded Darrel drily, "if it were not so full of flaws."
"Flaws!"
"Yes. You omit the Blue Mummy altogether; you make Vass decoy Julia to the Embankment without the shadow of an excuse--why you can't even invent an impossible one. Finally, you forget that the money was returned; so it is ridiculous to suppose that Vass would act so honestly after committing two crimes to gain it. Also, a nervous idiot like Vass couldn't kill two people in cold blood. He hadn't the spunk to do it."
Torry laughed at these so-called flaws, which he regarded as puerile; but out of sheer contradiction was about to contest them, when a faint and timid knock sounded on the outside door.
"Vass!" said Torry promptly. "Even in his knock I recognise his sneaking, vacillating nature. Now to try my game of bluff."
With a nod to Frank he went to the door, and shortly returned with Vass at his heels. The secretary was smartly dressed, and looked cool and composed, never thinking that his sin had found him out, and that the smiling little detective had set a trap for him into which he had walked blindly. There was something ironical in the situation.
"I got your note," said Vass, addressing Frank, when they were seated. "And I came on here at once. Has anything new been discovered?"
"Oh, yes," replied the detective politely, "something quite new, which will interest you very much."
"Really; relative to the robbery?"
"No; relative to the murder. Not to keep you in suspense Mr. Vass," said Torry slowly, "I may tell you that we know who committed this double crime."
Vass turned the colour of chalk. "Captain Manuel?" said he faintly.
"No, the man whose name is in this warrant of arrest."
The secretary put out a shaking hand towards the warrant displayed by Torry, then drew it back with a start. "A warrant of arrest," he repeated.
"Yes, and for you!"
"For me--me?" His eyes almost started from his head as he pushed back his chair, and stared terror-stricken at the detective.
"For you--Gustavus Vass, who murdered your master and your sweetheart."
"It is a lie!" cried the young man, trying to rise, "I killed neither."
"You murdered both," said Torry sternly, "and I intend to arrest you. In ten minutes you leave this room for prison."
"But I am innocent!--innocent I tell you," screamed Vass, his brow beaded with perspiration.
"I--I--I can--I can explain."
In a moment Torry whipped out the locket, and held it out on the palm of his hand. "Then explain that."
"Ah!" murmured Vass, falling back in his chair, "I am lost."
"I thought so; you confess your guilt."
The accusation seemed to galvanise the wretched creature into life. "Confess, confess!" he shrieked.
"No, no! I am innocent! I swear it."
"You'd swear anything to save your neck," said Torry coolly. "Come, sir, I am tired of this, let me put the darbies on."
As in a dream Vass sat limply in his chair while Torry approached with the handcuffs. But at the first touch of the cold iron on his wrists he leaped up, and plunging past the detective fell on his knees before Frank.
"Mr. Darrel! Mr. Darrel!" he implored with the tears streaming down his face, "help me, for God's sake! Oh, my poor mother. In heaven's name I am innocent! Don't let him drag me to prison."
"What can I do?" said Darrel moved by this abasement. "I am not above the law. If you are guilty you must pay for your wickedness."
"But I am innocent."
"Then prove your innocence," cried Torry with a sneer. "I am always open to conviction."
"I can't speak, I dare not speak!" moaned Vass, hiding his miserable face in his hands.
"Then keep silence and hang."
The poor wretch shuddered convulsively at the ominous word, and wept loudly. He cried like a woman, and lay on the floor moaning and groaning as in pain. Even Darrel was disgusted at this unmanly conduct, and advised him sharply to leave off whimpering. Torry went further.
"Get up, you milk-sop, or I'll kick you," he cried. "This is not the way to meet your troubles. You say you can explain; do so, and save your neck, if you can."
Finding all his howling did no good, Vass rose to his feet and dried his eyes. Driven like a rat into a corner, he turned to shew fight.
"Give me a glass of water," said he, "and I'll tell you the truth."
"How you killed Grent," said Torry, while Darrel got the water.
"I did not kill Grent. I never saw him on that night."
"Bah! you are a liar."
"You had better hear what I have to say before you call me that," said the secretary with some spirit. Then he drank the water, arranged his disordered clothes, and with more composure than might have been expected from his former agitation made a strange confession. The details startled his two hearers not a little.
"Gentlemen," he said, in rather an oratorical way, "I was, as you know, secretary to the late Mr. Grent, and frequently went down to see him at Wray House. Sometimes I stayed there for days, and, therefore, saw a great deal of the household. About a year ago, I fell in love with Julia Brawn, a handsome girl, who was Donna Maria's maid. I gave her that locket you showed me, and promised to marry her as soon as I was rich enough to keep a wife."
"Did you really intend to marry her?" questioned Darrel suspiciously, "or were you only fooling the girl."
"I intended to make her my wife," said Vass, with dignity. "She was a good girl, and a beautiful girl, whom I loved very much. When we met we naturally conversed about those we knew, and Julia was in the habit of telling me all that went on in the house, I learnt from her that Grent was in love with Miss Hargone, the governess. Now, at this time, I knew that he was nearly ruined by speculation; so when he told me one day that he had ten thousand pounds I doubted him, until he showed it to me at Wray House. He explained that the money belonged to a society called the Peruvian Patriots, and explained to me all about their symbol of the Blue Mummy. Once or twice he said to me that he wished the ten thousand pounds was his own. Then Miss Hargone made a confidant of Julia."
"But Miss Hargone had left the house some weeks before Manuel paid the money to Grent."
"I know that, Mr. Torry, but Julia used to call on Miss Hargone in London. The governess told Julia that Grent intended to fly to America with the ten thousand pounds, and had asked her to go with him. She said she had promised to go if Grent could show her the money in his possession, and to see it, she had made an appointment with him in Mortality-lane. Both were to be disguised."
"Why?"
"Because Grent was terribly afraid of the society and had made Miss Hargone afraid also. They thought it better to meet in some out-of-the-way spot, where there would be no chance of their being disturbed. That was why Mortality-lane was chosen. When Miss Hargone was convinced that Grent had the money she was to return home to her lodgings in Bloomsbury, and meet Grent the next morning at Victoria Station. They were to go to Genoa and sail for South America."
"A very nice plot," said Darrel. "But how about Julia going in place of Lydia?"