Vass paused before answering this question and drank some more water. Now that he had commenced his confession he was much more at his ease, and seemed disposed to tell all he had hitherto kept back. He smiled faintly and repeated Darrel's remark before making any reply.
"How about going in place of Lydia?" he said. "Well that was because Miss Hargone never intended to go to Italy or South America with Grent."
"But he bought double tickets for Genoa," exclaimed Torry.
"I know he did. I looked into the envelope which contained them when it was left in Grent's private office. But Lydia was only fooling the old man."
"In that case why did she make the Mortality-lane appointment?"
"Because she wanted the ten thousand pounds. Yes; her fear of the society was all feigned, and she suggested the meeting-place and disguise to Grent so that in the event of any trouble over the loss of the money, he might be accused by reason of his suspicious conduct."
"The loss of the money," echoed Darrel. "Then she intended to rob him on that night?"
"She did; but I don't believe she intended murder. On the Friday night, when all was arranged with Grent, she refused to meet him in Mortality-lane, and asked Julia to go in her place."
"But why did Julia consent to undertake so dangerous a task?"
"Oh, that was my doing," said the secretary complacently.
"Your doing!"
"Yes. Julia called at the bank next day at noon to acquaint me with Miss Hargone's proposal. I saw a chance of getting the ten thousand into my own hands without suspicion, so I urged her to go. I knew from Mr. Leighbourne that he had changed the notes at Grent's request, so that they could not be traced by the numbers kept by Captain Manuel. Grent arranged that to benefit himself. When I heard Julia's story of Miss Hargone's proposal, I decided that they should benefit me. I told Julia to go to the rendezvous and get the money from Grent, then meet me at Cleopatra's Needle and give it to me. The next day I intended to send a note to the office feigning illness, and in the meantime, leave England for Australia with Julia and the money."
"You are a scoundrel, I must say."
"No, I am not," cried Vass, flushing. "If Grent had been true to me I should have been true to him. But he deceived me; he tried to get me into trouble. I saw him place the notes in the safe on Friday night, and, remembering that he was to shew them to Miss Hargone at Mortality-lane, I wondered how he was going to steal them. Donna Maria came the next day before Julia paid me her visit, and I suspected something, as it was unusual for her to come to the bank. She asked me to bring her a glass of water so as to get me out of the room. Suspecting the trick I watched her through a crack in the door, and saw her rob the safe. Then I guessed that Grent intended, like the scoundrel he was, that I should be accused of the robbery. I was so enraged that I wished to thwart him, and when Julia came with her story, I advised her to get the money for our mutual benefit. Since by Grent's cunning scheme to save his own reputation, I was to be accused as a thief; I did not see why I should not have the money. I felt that I might as well be killed for a sheep as a lamb, so I do not see that can blame me."
"Well, well," said Torry, impatient at this moralising; "let it pass. When one is soaked through, rain does not matter. How about Julia?"
"She obeyed me. The rendezvous with Grent was at midnight in Mortality-lane, so I arranged to meet her at Cleopatra's Needle at one o'clock on Sunday morning."
"Why not at your own lodgings?"
"Because it is not wise to leave a trail to one's own door," retorted Vass, with a cunning look. "Well, Julia went to the rendezvous disguised as Miss Hargone, in a fawn-coloured mantle which Grent knew well. She got the money."
"How? By murdering Grent?"
"No; he gave it to her thinking she was Miss Hargone. Then----"
"Well, well; then----"
"I don't know what happened," said Vass helplessly. "Julia had not time to tell me all, when she was murdered."
"By whom?" cried Torry eagerly.
"By a man I don't know. It was this way. I was at the Needle at one o'clock, but she did not come. I waited for half an hour and then she came running to me."
"From which direction?"
"Northumberland-avenue."
"H'm; that agrees with the cabman's story," muttered Torry. "Go on."
"She came up to me at once," continued Vass rapidly, "and thrust the notes into my hands. I put them into my pocket, and she began to talk about Grent being dead. I had no time to ask her what she meant, for a man in a long coat came running along from Northumberland-avenue direction, and threw himself on her with an open knife. I saw it flash in the faint starlight. Julia turned to face him with a cry, and the knife went right into her heart. I was so terrified and amazed that, as she fell, I took to my heels and ran along in the direction of the Strand."
"Did the man follow you?"
"Not immediately. From a backward glance I saw that he was bending over Julia's body, looking for the notes, I suppose. I ran on as hard as ever I could, but when I was racing up into the Strand I fancied my haste would look suspicious, so I walked as quickly as I could. In the Strand I picked up a cab and drove to Hyde Park corner, then I walked to Victoria Station and took a cab home to my lodgings in Westminster. I was too terrified to do anything but fly."
"You are sure you were not followed?"
"I fancied I heard the man running after me on the Embankment, but I am not sure. All I wished to do, since Julia was dead, was to save myself."
"What was the man like?"
"He had a long coat, a soft hat, and a black beard; but the whole thing passed so suddenly that I had no time to notice anything."
"Soft hat, long coat, black beard," said Torry; "exactly what Main described. There is no doubt that the man who killed Grent killed Julia. Well," he added, turning to Vass, with a grim look, "is that all you have to say?"
"Yes, all; except that I returned the money to Captain Manuel at his hotel."
"Oh," cried Darrel, "so you were the red-haired man."
"Yes. I was afraid to go without a disguise lest I should meet Manuel and be questioned by him."
"Why did you return the money?" asked Torry sharply.
"Because I had no use for it, If Julia had lived I should have taken her and the money to Australia as I said before, but as that villain killed her I had no heart to keep it."
"What villain do you mean?"
"The man who killed her."
"Don't you know who it was?"
"If I did," cried Vass, with a light flashing into his usually cold eyes, "I'd murder him."
"You have no suspicion?"
"No; I can think of no one. Julia might have told me the name. I daresay she would have done so, but that the wretch killed her."
"Just in time to save himself from being betrayed," said Torry. "And now, Mr. Vass, why did you not tell us this before?"
"I was afraid of being accused of the murder, so I held my tongue."
"More fool you. You might have saved us a deal of trouble had you been more open. As it is, I believe your story. You stole the notes, but you restored them; and I know you are innocent of the other crime. Well, sir, I won't execute this warrant so you can go back to your work on one condition."
"What is it?" said Vass, anxiously.
"That you hold your tongue."
"Oh, I'll do that," said the secretary joyfully, and departed in all haste, glad to have got off so easily in that terrible interview.
"Do you believe his story?" asked Darrel, when the door closed.
"Every word of it," was Torry's prompt reply. "That creature hasn't the spirit of a rabbit. Catch him committing one murder, let alone two. Not he; I expect the poor devil has been in torture with this on his mind. No doubt he is glad I made him confess."
"I don't like him; he's a sneak."
"So he is, and a coward, sir; but," added Torry with emphasis, "he is not a murderer."
After this conversation the detective went away to seek for more evidence, and Darrel remained to muse over all that had been obtained. In spite of all that was known, the case seemed as complicated as ever, and the mystery as deep. If Darrel had been writing this criminal matter as a fiction, his ingenuity would have suggested a fitting ending; but he could not see how Fate intended to work it out. Perhaps Fate designed to leave her matter-of-fact romance unfinished. Perplexed by the problem and the apparent impossibility of its solution, Frank left Fate to conclude her own story, and turned to continue one of his own. In a few moments he was oblivious to all but the words which were rapidly filling the paper before him under the influence of brain and hand.
But it seemed that he was doomed to be interrupted. Just as he was warming to his work, Blake entered to make a morning call; and as there was no chance of writing while this rattle-pated Irishman was in the room, Darrel put away his papers with some vexation.
"Well," said Blake, after the first greeting had passed, "how is the case getting on?"
"We have found some new evidence," replied Darrel; "but none likely to please you."
"Why not?"
"Because it proves beyond all doubt that Miss Hargone sent Julia to that rendezvous."
"Prove it by telling me the evidence," cried Blake flushing.
Darrel was nothing loth. Suppressing the fact that the money had been returned--a fact which Torry did not want known--he told Blake all that Donna Maria had said, and all that Vass had confessed. Roderick listened in silence, but his brow grew black as the story proceeded. When Darrel ended, he said:
"So Vass has the money; I hope he'll be punished for stealing it. As to the black-bearded man, I say now, as I said before, that he is Manuel. That Spaniard, and no other, killed those poor wretches."
"Do you think, from what I have told you, that Miss Hargone knows who went with Julia to Mortality-lane?"
"She might know," said Roderick scowling. "I'll ask her. Darrel, I am not at all satisfied with Lydia. If she played fast and loose with Grent, she will some day do the same with me. She seems to know more of this black business than she should do, and I'll marry no woman who is under such a cloud. I'll ask her to explain all about this Mortality-lane business, and if she can't explain to my satisfaction, I'll give her up."
"Indeed, I think you will be wise to do so, Roderick. I don't think she is a good woman. But if she confesses, you must tell me what she says."
"I'll come and see you as soon as I get the truth out of her. I hope she is innocent, for I love her, Darrel. But my heart misgives me; God help me, it misgives me slowly." And Blake, quite changed from his usual merry self, walked out of the room with hanging head. Darrel was quite sorry for the poor fellow, but found a morsel of philosophy in his grief.
"Ah, well," thought he, "Blake isn't the first man who has been deceived by a woman. It is better to find out a woman's character before marriage than after. I hope he'll escape Lydia Hargone's clutches. She's a snake in the grass, if ever there was one."
Two day's afterwards, Torry reappeared in Darrel's room, accompanied by Vass. Both men were very much excited, and laid before Frank a letter.
"There," said Torry smoothing out the envelope, "what do you think that is?"
"A letter to Mr. Vass," replied Frank, looking at the address.
"More than that," cried the secretary in his high, thin voice. "It is a letter from the man who killed Grent and Julia Brawn."
Startled by this intelligence, Frank hastily took the open letter which Torry handed to him. It was written, or rather hand-printed, on a small sheet of notepaper, and read as follows:
"If G.V. will meet the writer of this letter near the Achilles Statue in Hyde Park at eleven o'clock on Friday night, he will be delivered out of his troubles in connection with the Cleopatra Needle murder. Come alone, and wait for a stranger to ask for a cigarette light. "
"An anonymous letter," said Darrel, when he finished reading the epistle, "but nothing to show from whom it comes."
"It was written by the assassin," cried Vass eagerly. "I am sure of it."
"How can you be sure of it?"
"Hush," said Torry, as the secretary was about to speak, "let me explain. I believe it is from the murderer," he continued, addressing Frank directly, "as he is the only one of the general public who knows that Vass is in trouble over this affair. Evidently he recognised Vass when he murdered Julia, and now wants to see him privately to ask about the money."
"The money--the ten thousand pounds?"
"Exactly. This man murdered Grent for that money, and when he fancied that Julia was giving it to Vass he killed her out of revenge. He did not find the notes on Julia's body, so he followed Vass, who, as you heard, managed to escape him. Now he thinks that Vass still has the money, and knows in some way, I can't say how, that he is in trouble over it. He wants to meet Vass and demand half of the money or perhaps more; then he will leave England and write a letter to the police saying that he is the criminal and that Vass is innocent. I am certain," cried Torry emphatically, "that such is the plot of this scoundrel."
"It sounds feasible enough. You are going to meet this man, Vass?"
"We are all going to meet him," said the detective promptly; "you can come too, if you like."
"Certainly. As I saw the beginning of this tragedy, I should like to see the end."
"It is now Thursday," remarked Torry, "so to-morrow night at half-past ten, I, you, and a couple of policemen will post ourselves out of sight near the Achilles Statue. At eleven Vass will come along and wait to be asked for a cigarette light. Then we will give the scoundrel rope enough to hang himself, and pounce out to arrest him when he has given himself away. There has been enough plotting on the part of criminals," added Torry, rubbing his hands, "so it is time honest men had their turn to counter-plot."
"What do you think of it all Mr. Darrel?" asked Vass in high glee.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to say," said he, doubtfully. "You may be right, you may be wrong, but we have had so many failures that I fear to hope for success."
"Oh, we won't fail this time," said Vass, cheerfully. "Well, Mr. Torry, if you will excuse me I'll go back to my work. I'll be with you to-morrow at five as you desire. Good-day, sir; good-day, Mr. Darrel."
The novelist nodded without smiling, for he had no great liking for the slippery secretary. When the door closed on him he turned an ironical look on Torry.
"There goes a blackguard who thinks he is an honest man," was his remark.
"Let him think what he likes so long as he assists us," replied Torry carelessly. "I know he stole the notes, but he returned them again."
"Returned them out of fear, and in disguise," said Darrel. "The fellow is a white-livered cur. He hadn't even the pluck to defend that poor girl Julia."
"Come now, sir; he couldn't. The assassin was too quick for him. But I agree with you that he's a contemptible hound; but justice must work with dirty tools on occasion. This sneak----
"Bah! he is not worth talking about," interrupted Darrel contemptuously; "let's leave him in his native mud. What about the letter? Have you any idea who wrote it?"
"I told you the assassin of Grent and Julia."
"Have you any idea of his name?"
"I have a suspicion that it may turn out to be someone we know."
"Ha; I guess your idea. Manuel?"
Torry shook his head. "No. Manuel proved analibi, and has cleared himself in my eyes. I suspect Frederick Leighbourne."
"No!" exclaimed Darrel with genuine surprise. "Why he is the last man in the world I should suspect."
"All the more reason for suspecting him," replied the experienced officer. "I have been making a few inquiries about that good young man, and I have found out that he leads a double life. With his respectable ass of a father he is all that is worthy and decent, but under this pious surface he is a scamp and a debauched spendthrift. Money runs through his hands like sand, and he is in debt to half the tradesmen in London. Wine, women, cards and racing, Frederick Leighbourne indulges in them all, and is now at his wits' end to conceal his iniquities from his father. If that virtuous dunderhead knew the truth he would kick Master Frederick out of the business, cut him off with a shilling, and solace his pious soul with texts out of the family Bible. Oh, I know the creed of the British hypocrite--cant, cant, and cant again."
"But all this does not prove that Frederick Leighbourne killed Grent."
"Don't you remember our first interview with him," cried Torry impatiently, "how afraid and nervous he was in how extraordinary a manner he took the news of Grent's murder? He had changed the notes for Grent, and knew that there was little danger of them being traced by Manuel's list. He found out that Grent was going to bolt with the money----"
"From whom?" interrupted Frank.
"From Lydia Hargone. Oh, you may look surprised, but that woman has acted like a traitress to all. She deceived Donna Maria for Blake, she deceived Blake for Grent, she sold Grent for Leighbourne, and I shouldn't be surprised if she ended in selling him to the gallows. But to continue. I fancy Leighbourne was the man who went with Julia at the instigation of the perfidious Lydia. He hoped to make ten thousand pounds at one haul, and killed Grent to get it. Then Julia, to whom the money had been given, ran off with it to Vass. Leighbourne followed and murdered her, but found, too late, that his crime was useless--that Vass had bolted with the money. What does he do? He waits a reasonable time, and acts a part to avert suspicion, then he writes this letter to Vass asking for an appointment. He means to get that money out of Vass or kill him."
"But Vass has not the money."
"Of course not; but who knows that he returned it? You, I, Manuel, Vass, and Donna Maria, not Leighbourne. Depend upon it, Mr. Darrel, we'll have Leighbourne in gaol to-morrow night, and this mystery which has baffled us for so long, will be at an end."
"Well," said Darrel thoughtfully, "your argument is ingenious. Let us hope it will prove true."
"Wait till to-morrow night," said Torry drily, and took his leave, satisfied that he was the smartest detective in London, and the cleverest man in the wide world.
Darrel passed the rest of that day, and most of the next, in speculating on the probable result of this expedition. He could not deny that Torry's theory was ingenious and feasible, but thought that he was too sanguine. It seemed madness that a man guilty of a double crime should thrust himself willingly in the way of danger and risk betrayal. To be sure, he knew that Vass had stolen the money, and believed that he still had it in his possession, so he, no doubt, believed that terror of arrest and the desire to keep his spoil, might influence the secretary in holding his tongue. If the assassin knew that the money had been returned, and that Vass had repented of his iniquity, he might have been chary of risking a meeting; but he was ignorant, and therefore, rash, and there was every probability that he would be arrested. With arrest would come confession, and so the mystery of the dual crime would be solved. Still, the truth had evaded detection so many times, that Darrel could hardly bring himself to believe that it was about to be brought to light. He thought it possible but improbable.
The next night, shortly after ten o'clock, he met Torry, who was accompanied by two constables in plain clothes, and the four men walked to Hyde Park. The night was moonless, but there was a faint glitter of starlight, and a certain luminosity in the atmosphere. There were a great many people in the streets, but when they turned into the Park itself, they found it almost deserted--at all events, in the vicinity of the Achilles Statue.
"I wonder that the man appointed a meeting with Vass in so public a place," whispered Darrel to Torry, as they took up their position in the blackness under the trees.
"The more public the place, the safer it is," replied Torry oracularly. "Hush, there is Vass."
In the luminous light the four watchers could see the tall, thin form of the secretary. He walked to and fro, and circulated round the statue in a deliberate manner. Several people entered the gates and passed down the Row, others walked in the direction of the Marble Arch, still the man who had made this appointment did not come. Vass looked at the dial of his watch by the glow of his cigarette, and as he did so the bell of a near church chimed eleven. At once Vass stepped back, and walked up to a point near the watchers, where they could overhear the conversation which was likely to take place, and seize the stranger promptly.
Hardly had he done this, and while the last vibration of the bell still quivered in the atmosphere, than the figure of a man sauntered aimlessly across the open space. As he came nearer, Vass saw that he wore a long overcoat and a soft hat. The man passed and re-passed him, glancing carelessly in his direction; then he asked, in a pleasant voice, for a cigarette light, which Vass obliged him with in silence. As the match spurted and flared, Vass noted that the stranger had a black beard, and, with a chill, realised that he was in the presence of the double assassin.
"You received my letter?" said the man abruptly, with a glance round.
"Yes. I am here to answer it; but I don't know why you wish to see me."
"I'll tell you; come and sit here." And the man walked towards two chairs, which were almost directly in front of the trees behind which Torry and his assistants were hiding. By the very irony of Fate, the wretch had walked directly into the trap set for him by the law.
"Isn't it rather public here," said Vass, sitting down beside the stranger.
"No. Who can suspect two people sitting quietly together--not the most suspicious policeman. But now for business. I want that money."
"What money?" said Vass, pretending ignorance.
"You know; the money given to you by the woman at Cleopatra's Needle."
"The murdered woman?"
"Shut up," growled the man between his teeth, "or you'll be in the same box. I want that money. I perilled my life to get it, and I intend to have it."
"Suppose I don't give it up."
"Then I'll accuse you as having killed the man and woman. You cannot defend yourself against my evidence."
"But, you wretch, it is you who are the assassin."
"I may admit as much to you," sneered the man, "as you don't know who I am, and never will."
"Won't I!" Vass flung himself on top of the miscreant and overset him, chair and all, on the ground. The man muttered an oath, and pulled out a long knife; but before he could use it Torry had rushed forward with his two men and Darrel. In the twinkling of an eye the man was disarmed and prone on his back. He cursed horribly, and whimpered between his curses.
"Fetch a light here," cried Torry, "and we'll learn who this murderer is."
Darrel slipped the slide back of a dark lantern, and turned the blaze full on their prisoner. He was dark-haired and black-bearded, and looked more like a shaggy wild bear than a man.
"I don't know him," said Frank to Torry.
"You will in a moment," cried Torry. "I'll swear it is Leighbourne."
"Leighbourne!" repeated Vass, trembling violently.
"Himself--see!" Torry dexterously whipped off a false beard and wig. Then he sprang to his feet with a wild cry of amazement. In the white-faced and baffled scoundrel, who was now in the clutches of the law, he saw not Frederick Leighbourne as he had expected, but--of all men--Roderick Blake!
So the last man in the world whom Torry suspected turned out to be the criminal. Blake was arrested, brought up before a magistrate, and on the evidence given by Vass, committed, for trial. He pleaded not guilty, and reserved his defence; but while in prison, bail being refused, his nerve gave way. Seeing that he could not escape in the face of the secretary's recognition, and his own admission in the hearing of Torry, Vass, Darrel, and the two constables, he resolved to make a clean breast of it. Having been supplied with writing materials at his own request, he wrote out and signed a confession acknowledging himself guilty, and describing how he had committed the crimes, This he handed to the gaol chaplain, and that night, not being closely watched, hanged himself in his cell by means of his braces. The murderer died as a suicide--and that was the end of Roderick Blake.
"I hereby declare," so ran the confession, "that I alone killed Jesse Grent and Julia Brawn. I knew from Lydia Hargone, to whom I was engaged, that Grent wished to fly to Italy with her and ten thousand pounds, the property of the Patriotic Peruvians. I wanted to get the money for myself, but I was afraid to rob Grent openly, lest the society should trace and kill me. I therefore suggested to Lydia that she should make an appointment with Grent in a quiet place, ask him to shew her the money, and then rob him. Thus Grent, as having been paid the money by Manuel, would be suspected, and Lydia and myself would escape the vengeance of the society. Lydia made an appointment in Mortality-Lane, and promised--to gull Grent--that she would elope with him to Italy the next morning. At the last moment she turned weak, and refused to go. She proposed that Julia Brawn should disguise herself as Lydia Hargone in a fawn-coloured mantle, and meet Grent. For some reason Julia agreed to go at once; but I did not quite trust her, so I said that I would go also. In case there might be any difficulty, I wished to receive the money personally; but as Grent would give it up to no one but Lydia, I resolved to wear her clothes. I was not very tall, I was clean shaven, and could soften my voice to a feminine drawl; so it was easy for me to disguise myself as a woman. At first I determined not to take Julia, but she was so eager to go--I don't know why--that I resolved to make use of her. To confuse the police, should there be any trouble about the robbery, I made Julia disguise herself as a man. She only wore a pair of trousers above her underclothes, a long great coat, a soft hat, and a black wig and beard. I put on her dress and petticoat, wore her hat, and Lydia's fawn-coloured mantle, for Grent to recognise, and a veil. We dressed thus simply as I intended, to further confuse the police, that we should change in some obscure spot as soon as the robbery was accomplished. When we went to keep the appointment I took with me my Spanish bowie-knife, but only for protection. I swear, by all I hold most sacred, that I had no murderous intention at the time.
"We arrived in Mortality-lane shortly after midnight, and a few minutes later Grent appeared in disguise to keep his appointment. At first he was alarmed at seeing two of us, but I explained--mimicking the voice of Lydia, which I could imitate very well--that Julia was the son of my landlady, whom I had brought to protect me in the midnight streets. Mr. Grent was pacified, and shewed me the notes done up in one bundle. I wanted to look at them, but he refused to give them into my hands. I then tried to take them, but did it too strongly, and Grent suspected something. He snatched at my veil, it came off, and in the light of a near gas-lamp he recognised me. I was furious and lost my temper. Grent began to run with the notes. As I was determined to have them I followed, and threw myself on him. For his own sake he was afraid to cry out, but struggled with me in silence. He tore the lace off my cloak; so finding him bent on resistance, I drew my knife and, watching my opportunity, I stabbed him to the heart. He fell with a low cry, and when I examined him I found him stone dead.
"Julia was in a great state; she cried and wrung her hands, until I thought someone would come. I made her be quiet, and took the packet of notes off Grent's dead body; these I slipped into the pocket of the dress I wore. Then I took Julia's arm, and was going away with her, when it struck me that, to save myself and the girl from suspicion, it would be a good thing to lay the blame on the secret society. Before I left home I had put two tomb-images in my pocket, as I thought if Grent did not give up the money I might produce one, say I represented the society, and thus terrify him into giving me the ten thousand pounds. I would have tried this trick if he had not torn off my veil and recognised me. As it was, in a moment of passion, I killed him. To avert suspicion and cast it on Manuel, I placed a Blue Mummy on the ground beside the corpse. Then I took Julia up the lane, we found a cab and got into it. I told the man to drive to Northumberland-avenue, near the theatre, as Julia wanted to get out there, saying it was near her lodgings.
"In the cab we changed our clothes. Julia reassumed her petticoat and dress, also the fawn-coloured mantle of Lydia, and the hat given to her by Donna Maria. I put on the coat and hat and black beard. When we alighted from the cab near the Avenue Theatre and dismissed it, I went down to the Embankment with Julia, and threw the trousers she had worn into the river. As I did so, she ran off down the Embankment. Then I recollected that the bank-notes were in the pocket of the dress I had worn, and which she now had on. I followed her as quickly as I could, and found her talking to a man near Cleopatra's Needle. I did not know who the man was, but, thinking she was betraying the fact that I had murdered Grent, I became mad with rage. I ran at her with my knife open, she turned, and I stabbed her to the heart. The man ran off. I waited to search Julia's clothes for the notes, but could not find them, so I concluded that she had given them to the man. I resolved to follow, but first tried to throw the body into the river, so as to conceal my crime. I dragged it as far as the steps, when I heard someone coming, and ran off to save myself.
"I went after the unknown man, but could not trace him. I wanted to know who he was, and get the money back. That was why I wished to assist in the investigation of the case. As Julia was dead and Lydia staunch, I thought I would never be discovered. But I fell by my own folly. Finding out from Darrel that Vass was the man who had taken the notes from Julia, I wrote a note asking him to meet me, intending to force him to give them up. He came, and he betrayed me; so now I am in gaol. I cannot defend myself at the trial, as Vass recognised me; so it is certain that I shall be condemned to death. I have confessed my crime, and I have nothing more to do but sign myself as a double murderer. God have mercy on all who give way to their passions.
"Roderick Blake."
A week after this precious confession, Torry was seated in Darrel's chambers talking over the matter. The detective was rather downcast, and Frank was trying to cheer him up.
"After all, you found out who committed the crimes," said he, "and that wretched Blake has committed suicide."
"Yes; but I expected to find Leighbourne and discovered Blake. Yet I feel sure that Leighbourne is mixed up in the case."
"And you are right," said Frank soothingly, "perfectly right."
"Right, am I! How so?"
"Well, Vass came to see me this morning in a great state of mind. He had been kicked out of his billet, because of his connection with this case."
"By old Leighbourne?"
"Yes; but he is not so furious with that old ass as with his son. Do you know who returned those notes to Manuel?"
"Why, Vass, of course."
"No. It was Frederick Leighbourne. That young man had a speculation one which threatened to fail for want of money. Vass, who was devoted to him heart and soul, got the money for him from Julia. Leighbourne gave the notes to a stockbroker as security, on condition that they were not to be put into circulation unless the speculation failed. It did not fail, and Leighbourne got back the notes, which he sent Vass to return to Manuel. So you see it was Leighbourne who restored the notes."
"The deuce!" said Torry. "Why doesn't Vass tell old Leighbourne?"
"He has done so out of revenge, and I heard from Vass that Master Frederick had bolted this morning to the Continent. Vass intends to follow him, and, I suppose, make it hot for him for not helping him to keep his situation."
"The jackal after the lion. I daresay they'll make it up again."
"Not if Lydia can help it."
"Why, what about that beauty?"
"She eloped with Frederick, and, I suppose intends to become Mrs. Leighbourne. She'll soon send Vass to the right about."
"H'm! A nice couple! She never loved Grent."
"No, nor Blake either; she only loves herself. By the way," added Frank, "do you think that the story told by Grent to Donna Maria was true?"
"Not all of it. He lied about the society, and that man he called Centa. For my part, I don't believe Centa exists. No, Darrel; all Grent's lies were invented to enable him to clear off with the money.
"Well, Nemesis overtook him."
"Yes; as it overtook Blake. It is no use trying to escape Fate. But both those men were scoundrels. The only one I pity is Julia, who only sinned out of love for Vass. She is the true victim. But I was going to ask you, what about Donna Maria?"
Darrel grew red and confused, as a lover should. "She is going back to Lima with her aunt. Poor Donna Inez, she has been terribly upset by all this public scandal and the discovery of her husband's perfidy."
"Pooh, pooh! she is better without the old libertine; but women never know when they are well off. It is a pity, though, she has lost all her money.
"Not all. Old Leighbourne says he can save her a thousand a year out of the general wreck."
"And that is opulence in Peru," said Torry. "Are you going to Peru also?"
"Why do you ask?" said Frank, blushing again.
"Because since the discovery of Blake's guilt you have been down to Wray House every day."
"Donna Maria wanted things explained to her."
"Oh, and it took three weeks to explain them. Well when is the marriage to be?"
"Bosh! I haven't spoken of that yet. In a month Donna Maria goes out to Lima. I stay at home and work hard."
"To make a home for the future Mrs. Darrel, I suppose. Why don't you write a novel on this case?"
"Because if I did no one would believe it."
"But it is all true, even to the fact that Manuel remains in London as the agent for a society of assassins misnamed Patriots."
"I know; but the truth is always improbable in print. But some day I may soften its improbable truth into my probable fiction."
"With yourself as hero and Donna Maria as the heroine; and a marriage between you to end the book."
"Well, there's many a true word spoken in jest," said Frank smiling; "and I think Maria likes me a little."
"Maria! Ah, that settles it. You'll follow her to Lima and marry her there."
"Well, Torry, why not?"
"Why not, indeed. She is a charming girl. I anticipated as much, and so I brought with me a wedding present for you."
"Where is it? What is it?"
Torry smiled and placed in Darrel's hands--a Blue Mummy.
W. Jolly & Sons, Printers, Aberdeen.