In his anxiety to prove his theory, Tod would then and there have taken his friend and Arnold over to the Pixy's House. But Gerald, more cool-headed than the impetuous Scotsman, pointed out that he had not sufficient grounds upon which to accuse the widow.
"If you ask her to explain her movements on that night she will only refuse to gratify your curiosity," said Haskins positively.
"The police could make her speak."
"The police could not arrest her without a warrant, and there is not, to my mind, sufficient evidence to obtain a warrant. And certainly the police cannot ask questions about anyone's private affairs until some reason can be given to show why such questions should be asked."
"Those ladies said that they were at Bognor, when they really intended to come to Devonshire," observed Arnold, who seemed to side entirely with Macandrew.
"It is a woman's privilege to change her mind, Mr. Arnold. And I ask you, what possible motive could Mrs. Crosbie have had to journey all the way to Devonshire to commit an unnecessary murder."
"Unnecessary?" snorted Tod, displeased. "Seeing that the murder is ascribed to Mavis, who may thus be shut up, to provide Rebb with an income, I cannot see that it is unnecessary."
"Ah, but Mrs. Crosbie did not know that the Major's income depended upon the seclusion of Mavis," said Haskins rapidly. "I did not tell her, as there was no reason why I should. And I am quite certain that Rebb himself would not explain. If Mrs. Crosbie had known that his income was so uncertain she would have refused to marry him."
"Perhaps she will do so now," said Arnold hopefully.
"No! She has come down to see about the repairs to the Pixy's House," answered Gerald, "and Rebb loves her too well to let her go. I believe, Tod, that Geary is the man who committed the murder."
"It sounds plausible enough," grumbled Macandrew, "and a case could easily be built up against him. But the presence of Mrs. Crosbie on the spot has to be explained."
Gerald rose and walked up and down the room, thinking. "I tell you what, Tod," he said abruptly. "I am getting tired of poking about in the dark. I believe, as you do, and Arnold does, that Mavis is entirely innocent. Hitherto we have kept her in hiding, so as to prove her innocence, since she may be arrested if she is discovered. Well then, I think it would be best to let her be arrested."
Both Arnold and Macandrew jumped up wrathfully! "What?" they exclaimed, and Tod continued: "What is the use of Charity's sacrifice if you intend to hand over Mavis to the law?"
"Tod," said Gerald seriously, "as things stand now, we are not able to force either Geary or Mrs. Crosbie or Rebb to speak. If Mavis is put on her trial they can be called as witnesses, and then the truth may come out. Also Mavis can be examined by two doctors--I shall insist upon that--when her sanity will certainly he proved beyond all doubt. If she is proved to be sane, then Rebb will find himself in Queer Street and will be hard put to it to prove his innocence."
"We could have done all this in the first case," said Arnold irritably.
"No," replied Haskins sharply, "for then we did not have the evidence to hand that we have now. Rebb, Geary, and Mrs. Crosbie are all implicated, and we may also be able to place Venosta in the witness-box. But the proof that Mavis is responsible for her acts, and has been shut up in the Pixy's House, while Rebb enjoyed her income, will gain the sympathy of everyone, and will go far to show her innocence. I shall support her throughout the case."
"She is Rebb's ward, and is under twenty-one," said Tod crossly; "so the Major may not allow you to support her."
"I propose to take her out of the Major's keeping by making her my wife forthwith," said Gerald coolly.
"But if you do, sir," cried Arnold, much upset, "Mavis will be arrested. Indeed I doubt if you will find any clergyman who will marry her to you, seeing that she is said to be a lunatic."
"That's all right," rejoined Haskins easily. "I have arranged that in my own mind. There is an old college chum of my late father's who can see both sides of the question, and I can trust him utterly. To-day I am going to London to repeat your experience and get a special license, Toddy. Our marriages are expensive matters, old boy, aren't they?"
Tod grunted, and kicked the carpet. "When you are married, what do you intend to do?"
"I shall bring my wife down here within three days, and we shall all go over to the Pixy's House. Mrs. Crosbie will not have left by that time, as, from the quantity of luggage she brought, I fancy she intends to remain for a week or so. Then we can confront her and Rebb, and, if possible, Tod, I wish you to bring Geary on the scene. Thus all the actors in this tragedy of real life--as Mrs. Pelham Odin would call it--will be together, and we can bring about the fall of the curtain."
"With Mrs. Gerald Haskins in gaol," said Arnold gloomily. "Mavis will be arrested on Rebb's information, at once."
"That is highly probable. But whether Mavis appears early or late she will have to stand her trial, seeing that she is accused. Also she will have to be examined as to her sanity. But in both these ordeals, I intend to be beside her as her husband." There was a pause. "Well?"
"It's a forlorn hope," said Macandrew, hesitating, "and risky. Still----" He looked questioningly at Arnold.
The little man nodded sadly. "Things are so bad that they can scarcely be worse," he remarked, "and certainly, as Mr. Haskins thinks, a public trial would force the witnesses we want into court. Once in the box, and closely examined, the truth might come to light. I think Mr. Haskins should do as he says, but--it is a risk."
"Life is all risks," said Gerald cheerfully. "Well, I am going to pack up and clear off to London. And you, Toddy?"
"I shall keep my eye on Geary, and, if possible, I shall see Mrs. Crosbie, or her mother."
Gerald nodded, and, matters thus being arranged, he went up to London that same afternoon,en routefor Southend, there to make Mavis his wife. Tod and Arnold, left behind, remained at the Prince's Hotel, and wandered about the country, even as far as Leegarth. They heard that the London ladies were still with the Major, but did not catch a glimpse of them. And even Tod, audacious as he was, shrank from going to the Pixy's House and openly accusing the lively widow.
Tod took occasion to pay a special visit to the Devon Maid, and found the hotel in charge of a rough man and his slatternly wife. It appeared that since Mrs. Geary's disappearance her husband had taken heavily to drink, and refused to attend to his business. His uncivilized instincts had got the better of him, and he was running wild in the neighborhood. Mrs. Geary, now with her mother in Barnstaple, refused to return to him, or to surrender her children, and Adonis talked loudly of forcing her stubborn will by law. But, as yet, he had not done anything, perhaps because he was in danger of the law himself. Tod learned as much from Inspector Morgan, whom he met in the Silbury High Street on the third day after Gerald's departure in search of a wife.
In the course of an idle conversation about this, that, and the other thing--for Macandrew, during his holiday at the Devon Maid, had learned to know Morgan intimately--the name of the negro was mentioned, and the inspector uttered a grunt.
"He's a black scoundrel, that," he remarked.
"Why?" asked Tod, pricking up his ears. "I always understood that Geary was a meritorious inhabitant of Denleigh. He certainly conducted the Devon Maid well, as I stopped there myself. You know that?"
Morgan nodded. "Things have changed since you and Mr. Haskins were there, sir," he said slowly. "It was Mrs. Geary who kept the inn respectable, and a miserable life she had with that sooty blackguard. But she got fed up with his brutality, and went back to her mother in Barnstaple. Since then the inn has gone from bad to worse, and Geary is drinking."
"I heard something of this," observed Tod. "Why don't you pull him up?"
"I am going to," said Morgan grimly. "I have my eye on him. He is nearly always drunk, and frightens children and insults women and threatens men. Sooner or later he will be locked up. And the strength the man has! Why, do you know, Mr. Macandrew, that he knocked down the river wall of the Pixy's House--that portion overhanging the pool. I wanted to run him in for that, but Major Rebb will not prosecute, for some reason."
"He has a sneaking regard for his old servant, I suppose," said Tod, smiling. "But this wall, Morgan? How the dickens could one man knock it down?"
"Oh, the wall has been in a shaky condition for years and years," said the inspector. "It was only held together by the ivy--the bricks and mortar were rotten."
"But even then----"
"A good strong push would have sent it over, and Geary gave it that push. He was climbing over, I believe, as he wanted, mad with drink, to get into the Pixy's House, and because of the ladies Major Rebb had ordered the gates to be closed and locked. However, he found that the wall leaned a trifle towards the cliff, and managed to knock it down. The man has an immense strength naturally, and when drink is added to that----" Morgan shrugged his big shoulders. "I have known drunken men do some wonderful things in the way of superhuman strength," he finished.
"I think Geary must have been superhuman to have pushed that wall over, rotten as it was. If you remember, Mr. Haskins climbed it."
"I remember, and a good thing it was that it didn't fall and drop him into the pool below. However, it's down now, and on that side the grounds of the Pixy's House lie open to the world. By the way, how is Mr. Haskins? Has he got over the death of that crazy girl?"
Tod laughed. "I don't think myself that she was crazy, Morgan, or that she killed that wretched Italian woman. Nor do I believe that she is dead," and he looked straightly at the officer's red face.
"Have you any reason to think she is alive, sir?"
"Her body has not been found," rejoined Tod evasively.
"What of that? Plenty of bodies are not found. But the girl was never outside the Pixy's House before that time she fled after the murder. Not knowing the lie of the country, it is more than probable that she tumbled into some river, or water hole, and was drowned. If alive, she certainly would have been caught by now. We have had constables all over the place for weeks."
"Even now?"
"Well, no. The men have been withdrawn, as so long a time has elapsed since the commission of the crime. We'll hear no more of the matter."
"Never prophesy until you know, Mr. Inspector."
"I do know," said Morgan positively. "I don't go about with my eyes shut, Mr. Macandrew." And after saluting he stalked in a military way down the street, leaving Tod to pursue his shopping--which Tod had come out to do. Macandrew rather chuckled at the positive way in which this official Dogberry, who could see no further than his nose, asserted that the Pixy's House murder had been relegated to the past.
On the fourth day of Gerald's absence Tod received a letter from his friend in the character of a bridegroom. Everything had gone well, as the clergyman, on hearing the whole story, told in Haskins' persuasive manner, had joined Mavis and his friend's son in holy matrimony. Now Rebb had lost his income, as the conditions of the will had been fulfilled, and in spite of all his precautions Mavis had come into her own. Tod would have been less than human had he not reflected with great glee that, the income being safe from Rebb's clutches, his wife, as the twin sister of Mavis, would benefit to the extent of three thousand a year. "And Lady Euphemia called me a fool," chuckled Tod complacently. "What will she say when she knows that I have married an heiress and will be able to get back a part of the family estate?"
In his letter, Gerald informed Macandrew with great pride that Mavis had learned how to sign her name, and had produced a singularly fine specimen of calligraphy. "The rest of my darling's education," wrote the young man, "will be completed by me after all these troubles are over, and we can spend a proper honeymoon."
Education, as a means of passing a honeymoon, did not commend itself to Tod, and he made a grimace. Then he sat down and wrote a letter to Amsterdam telling Charity to come over and repair to Mrs. Pelham Odin's London flat, where he would join her later. He also gave her a full account of all that had taken place, and detailed the story of the Major, as to her birth, mentioning also the income which Mavis intended to hand over, as soon as the mystery of the crime was solved. When Tod posted this letter he took his way to Denleigh to see if he could find Geary and arrange for him to appear at the Pixy's House. It was necessary, as Gerald had explained, that all the actors in this drama should come together for the clearing up all perplexities.
But Geary was not easy to be found. Afraid of the official warning uttered by Morgan, he had taken to the hills, and although Tod roamed all over the place he could not find the man. He returned to the Prince's Head quite fatigued, and found a telegram from Gerald, stating that he and his bride would be in Silbury by the midday train next day. Macandrew communicated the joyful news to Arnold, who had come back from a round of bookselling--for the gnome did not neglect his business even in these anxious days--and the two had a merry little dinner on that same night, prepared by Mrs. Jennings' own hands. And the landlady's cooking, when she desired, was something to be wondered at. Tod insisted on a bottle of champagne being sent for, and the tutor and the lawyer drank long life and happiness to the bride and bridegroom with all honors. "Although," said Tod, setting down his glass, "we are not yet out of the wood."
An hour after dinner, and while Arnold was detailing his early connection with Mavis, Mrs. Jennings came in, much flustered. "Oh, sir," she said, "here's that horrid black landlord of the Devon Maid. He asks to see you, sir. I wouldn't if I were you. He's always drunk, and may be dangerous."
"Never mind, I am not afraid. Show him up," said Tod valiantly.
Mrs. Jennings shook her head but did as she was bidden, and in a few minutes Mr. Adonis Geary, looking a wreck of his former stalwart self, came into the room. However, he was perfectly sober, and very much depressed. Wanderings on the hills did not agree with him, and he looked as one of his ancestors might have looked when Cuban bloodhounds were hunting flesh and blood in the days of slavery.
"You wish to see me, sah?" said Geary, after a casual glance at Arnold.
"Yes, Mr. Geary," replied Tod, settling himself in his chair, "the fact is that things are coming to a climax, and I want you to come to the Pixy's House to-morrow afternoon, say at two o'clock, to state what you know of Bellaria's murder."
"I doan't know noting, sah," said the negro doggedly.
"Mr. Haskins believes that you know everything," retorted Tod sharply, "and, unless you want to get into trouble, it will be best for you to speak out."
"I doan't know noting," said Geary again, and rolled his eyes ferociously at the mention of Gerald's name, "and dere's noting can hurt me. I hab sold de hotel, and nex' week I go to Jamaica."
"As a pensioner of Major Rebb's, I suppose?"
"Dat's my business, sah. Dis place no place for me, when my wife go away wid my chill'n. Bellaria dead--dat mad gal dead--an'----"
"You are wrong in thinking that Miss Durham is dead, Mr. Geary," said Tod, exploding his bombshell according to Gerald's written instruction, "she is very much alive."
Geary staggered and turned his usual green. "She alive?"
"Yes, and married to Mr. Gerald Haskins. You can tell the Major that if you like, Mr. Geary, and tell him also that we are all coming over to-morrow to demand the six thousand a year which Major Rebb has held for so long. I fear that your Jamaican pension is not very safe."
Geary stood dumfounded, clutching his breast. His dull brain could scarcely grasp the significance of this speech. But he did grasp the fact that Rebb was losing the money, and that he--Mr. Adonis Geary--would not benefit. "I tell de Major," he faltered, wheeling.
"By all means," said Tod easily. "I sent for you to be my messenger. Come, Geary, as Rebb loses the money, you had better come on our side and tell us who murdered Bellaria."
The negro turned at the door and drew himself up. "No, sah," he declared, with something of majesty, "I eat de Major's bread, and I no betray de Major." After which speech he went out abruptly.
"Does that mean Rebb is guilty?" Tod asked Arnold.
"I always said that he was," rejoined the ex-tutor dryly, and later the two retired to their several couches to ponder over the new problem.
The bride and bridegroom duly arrived the next day. Tod was slightly uneasy, since Geary had probably told the Major, and that gentleman would undoubtedly, for his own safety, take steps to have Mrs. Haskins arrested. However, Geary had probably not delivered the message that Mavis was alive, for no officer of the law appeared to break the joy of the meeting. Mavis looked slightly pale, but her courage was high, and she evidently determined to go bravely through the ordeal. United to her adored Prince Gerald, she was ready to face anyone and anything by his side.
After greetings and explanations and a hurried meal the whole party drove over to Leegarth in a landau for the momentous meeting. As the carriage passed through the village Mavis kept her veil down, so she was not recognized. The gates of the Pixy's House, marvelous to relate, were open, and the carriage drove up to the house. Major Rebb with two ladies was on the terrace. Mavis alighted and raised her veil.
"Great heavens!" cried Rebb, pale with terror. "Mavis Durham!"
"Mrs. Gerald Haskins," she replied proudly, "and I come for my money."
It would be hard to say who was the palest and most terror-stricken of the trio who stood on the terrace. Mrs. Crosbie clung to her stern mother with dilated eyes, shaking like a reed: but Mrs. Berch, although stern and unmoved--outwardly at least--was also pallid. As for Rebb, he leaned against the balustrade of the terrace scarcely able to speak. Before him stood Tod and Arnold, Gerald Haskins and the girl whom he had treated so cruelly--the girl whom he had believed until now was at the bottom of some rural stream. The hour of retribution had come, and in a flash the guilty man saw everything he possessed reft from him--saw also the structure of crime and falsehood he had reared crumble into dust. His worst enemy would have pitied the Major in that hour of agony.
"You!" he faltered, staring at Mavis, as though she were indeed the ghost he almost believed her to be. "You!"
"Ah!" murmured Macandrew complacently, "so Geary did not deliver my message to you after all."
"Geary!" The Major stood erect, braced for the coming struggle, and his face hardened. "Did Geary know this----" And he pointed to Mavis.
"I told him the truth last night."
"And he never told me; he never warned me." Rebb clenched his fists. "Oh the scoundrel! I might have---- But there, it is too late--too late."
"What do you mean by too late?" said Mrs. Berch imperiously, and throwing a protecting arm round her daughter, "fight for Madge if you will not for yourself."
But Rebb paid no attention to her. "Geary! Geary!" he muttered, looking round with bloodshot eyes, "he was in the courtyard an hour ago, and he did not tell me, curse him! He may be---- Geary! Geary!" he raised his voice to an angry cry and ran swiftly along the terrace through the arch and into the quadrangle.
Gerald took the hand of his wife and followed quickly, with Tod and the ex-tutor behind. They did not wish to lose sight of Rebb. For one moment Mrs. Berch and her daughter looked at one another, and Madge hung back, trembling. But the mother suddenly seized the widow's wrist and dragged her, a miserable figure, pale-faced, and shaking in her gay attire, into the quadrangle. "We must see what Michael will do," whispered Mrs. Berch, passing her tongue over her dry lips. "He may win the day yet."
"No, no," moaned Mrs. Crosbie; "he is lost."
At the far end of the quadrangle Gerald and Mavis saw the token of Geary's drunken handiwork. A considerable portion of the ivy-clothed wall had fallen outward, and lay in ruins on the lip of the cliff. Three or four trees had been dashed into the pool below, and there was a clear view across the Ruddle to the green forest beyond. The mystery of the Enchanted Castle was at an end, and, no longer a palace of the Sleeping Beauty, it lay open to the world, as Morgan had said. And now in its romantic quadrangle there were sterner doings than the moonlight wooings of lovers who had, for the moment, recalled the Golden Age, when the gods came down to men.
"Geary! Geary!" shouted Rebb, rushing towards the fallen wall, and mounting its ruins. There was no response, and Gerald fancied that Rebb had merely made an excuse, so as to get near the river and throw himself in. But, guilty or innocent, the Major was sufficiently brave to face the sins he had committed, and came down again slowly to the group near the battered sundial. He was still livid, but more self-controlled.
"I shall deal with Geary later," he said thickly, "in the meanwhile I can deal with you."
"We are quite ready," said Gerald tranquilly.
"Who arewe?" questioned Rebb scathingly.
"Myself and my wife."
"She is not your wife. A marriage with a madwoman is not legal."
Mavis shuddered, and clung to Gerald's arm. It was the first time that she had been called mad to her face. "Oh, guardian," she wailed, "how can you say that of me when I was so fond of you?"
"You had every reason to be fond of me," said Rebb harshly, and his eyes gleamed as he thought the girl was weakening. "I gave you a happy home, in this delightful place, because your brain was not strong enough to bear the troubles of this world."
Mavis withdrew her hand from Gerald's arm, and looked scornfully at the liar, whom she now saw in his true colors. "You kept me here that you might enjoy the money which my father left to me," she declared, in haughty tones, "you betrayed the trust your dead friend placed in you. I was a weak girl, and an ignorant one, to believe in your lies: but now," she added, stepping forward a pace, "now, Major Rebb," and her use of the name showed the attitude she intended to adopt, "I call upon you to give me back my money, and leave this place, which belongs to me."
"No madwoman can possess money," said Mrs. Crosbie shrilly. She saw the Major's income was about to be lost, and that it would be useless to marry him. "Michael, call the police and have her removed."
"One moment," said Gerald quietly. "You go too fast, Mrs. Crosbie. But I am glad to see you at last as you really are. I thought you were my friend. I now see that you are my enemy. My wife is perfectly sane, and, as her husband, I shall see that her sanity is proved."
"Call the police--call the police!" cried Mrs. Crosbie furiously; and she broke from her mother's grip. "How dare you stand there and insult me, Gerald? I was your friend, and I will be your friend still, if you will shut up that girl, and apologize."
Tod laughed at the weakness of this speech. "If you cannot find anything better to say, Mrs. Crosbie, you had better hold your tongue," he said caustically. "Even if Mrs. Haskins is shut up the money still belongs to her husband. Major Rebb has lost that for ever. It is the money you are after, madam."
"Yes, it is; yes, it is," said Mrs. Crosbie, utterly reckless, and defying the efforts of her mother to keep her silent. "If you knew the miserable years of poverty I have had you would not wonder at my wishing for the money. My marriage with Michael will save me from shame and misery and--and----" She choked with mingled terror and rage, and Mrs. Berch pulled her back roughly.
"Are you a fool to talk like this?" she muttered. "Hold your tongue, you silly child." She shook her angrily. "Wait until Michael settles this affair. Major Rebb?" she turned inquiringly to her proposed son-in-law.
"I shall settle this affair very speedily," said Rebb, walking across the lawn towards the archway, "my man shall go for the police. Or, better still, that coachman who drove you from Silbury, Mavis, shall go back to bring Inspector Morgan. I am very sorry that you have thrust yourself into danger. But I should not be doing my duty by society if I did not have you imprisoned."
"As a lunatic?" asked Mavis scornfully. She had quite lost her old dread of the Major by this time.
"As a murderess," he retorted.
"Prove that," said Haskins, stepping in Rebb's path.
"Out of my way," growled Rebb, looking dangerous.
"You have brought a serious accusation against my wife," persisted the young man, "and I intend to make you prove it. On what grounds do you say that my wife is crazy?"
"She has been all her life," said the Major, forced to answer, for he saw very plainly that Haskins would knock him down if he attempted to pass the archway. Not that the Major feared a fight, but his situation was so desperate that he wished to adjust things as quietly as possible. His threat to call the police was bluff, as Gerald knew, and because Geralddidknow Rebb was furious.
"Prove that she has been mad all her life," said Haskins coolly. "Mavis has been with Mrs. Pelham Odin since she left here, and that very clever old woman cannot see that my wife is mad: nor can Macandrew, nor Arnold, nor anyone else."
"I can, I can!" cried Mrs. Crosbie, with a bright red spot burning on either cheek, and looked very angry.
"Ah! you are a prejudiced witness, seeing that you wish to marry Major Rebb, for the income he is now losing."
"That he has lost," interposed Tod, in a dry legal tone: "the conditions of Julian Durham's will have been fulfilled, and Mrs. Haskins now takes possession of her property."
"How can you prove that my wife is mad?" asked Gerald again, and taking no notice of the interruption, "have you had her examined by two doctors, according to law?"
"No," replied Rebb grudgingly.
"Then how dare you shut her up in this house? I shall bring an action against you, on behalf of my wife, for false imprisonment."
"You had better think twice before you do that," said the Major, in icy tones, "for I shall retort with an accusation of murder."
"You say that my wife murdered Bellaria?"
"I do," said Rebb doggedly. "I swear to it."
"I dare say; but you have yet to prove your accusation. I am quite willing to allow Mavis to be arrested." Gerald stepped aside. "Go and fetch the police, Rebb. They will be here soon."
"Here!" Rebb started and turned a shade paler.
"I left instructions at the police station before coming here that Inspector Morgan was to come with two men. When they arrive you can give Mavis in charge and then we can submit your accusation of insanity to a couple of doctors, and your charge of murder to a jury."
"Then," cried Mrs. Crosbie viciously, "Michael will get back his money."
"I think not," replied Gerald coldly. "I take charge of that."
By this time the courage was oozing out of Rebb, who had not expected the young man to take up such an attitude. "Cannot we arrange this matter quietly?" he asked, trying to appear composed.
"No," said the other quietly. "The offer you made me in yonder room does not suit me."
"An offer?" said Mrs. Berch, in her deep voice.
"I offered to let Haskins marry Mavis and take her to America, if he--or rather she--surrendered half the income."
"I refuse, as Gerald refused," said Mavis proudly. "I prefer to stand my trial. I am not going to pass the rest of my life under a cloud for your sake, Major Rebb."
"Your sister--your twin sister--shall get the money," cried Rebb, at his wits' end how to deal with the situation. "Ah, you never knew that."
"I knew when Gerald told me," said Mrs. Haskins composedly, "and I more than suspected it before. Indeed Charity allowed me to pass as herself, so as to save me from you. I shall repay that, with three thousand a year. My husband and I have arranged that."
"You passed as Charity," cried Rebb, amazed.
"Yes; I danced at the Belver Theatre, and----"
"It's a lie--you couldn't. What became of Charity, if you did that?"
"Charity was with me," said Tod, stepping forward.
"With you?"
"Yes, as my wife."
Major Rebb jumped, and staggered against the sundial. "So both the sisters are married?" he muttered.
"They are," said Tod, "and they have agreed to share the income you have held all these years. I am afraid that the game is up, Major."
Rebb said nothing. The game was indeed up, and he did not know which way to turn, or how to get the better of his pitiless opponents. Mrs. Berch left her daughter for the moment and touched his arm. "Why did you not tell me that there was another girl?" she asked hoarsely and savagely.
"There was no need." And the Major shook her off.
"There was every need. You told me, you told Madge, that your income depended upon Mavis Durham----"
"Mavis Haskins, if you please," interpolated that young lady.
Mrs. Berch paid no attention. "On Mavis Durham not marrying. You said that if in some way her insanity could be proved, and she could be stopped from marriage, that your income would be safe. For that reason my daughter wished to marry you."
"She loved me," said Rebb unsteadily, and looked at Mrs. Crosbie.
"I loved you as well as any other man," she said coolly, and shrugging her shoulders, "but I would have married anyone to escape from debt and duns and hideous poverty. As you are now poor, of course I cannot marry you. Come, mother. There is nothing more to be got here. Let us go back to our misery."
Rebb said nothing, but turned very white. The woman for whom he had sold his soul was ready to cast him aside like an old glove. Mrs. Crosbie, with a vicious glance at Mavis, and a look of indifference at the man she had professed to love, took her mother's arm. Mrs. Berch was quite ready to go, and indeed seemed to be in a hurry to depart. But the path of the two was blocked by the tiny figure of Arnold, who had hitherto held his peace.
"So youdidknow that the Major's income depended upon Mavis being prevented, even by the murder of Bellaria, from marrying?"
"What is that to you? Let me pass," cried Mrs. Crosbie haughtily.
"We," Arnold waved his hand to include Gerald and Tod, "we thought that you were ignorant, and so could not guess what was your motive for murdering that unfortunate woman."
"Murder!" Mrs. Crosbie went a dead-white, and became as rigid as a corpse.
Rebb started and came forward.
"You must be mistaken," he said, in shaking tones to Arnold.
"He is a foul liar," said Mrs. Berch, grasping her daughter to keep her from falling. "Let us pass, sir."
"No," said Arnold, still holding his ground, and speaking loudly, while the others kept silence. "When Inspector Morgan comes you shall be arrested. I shall give you in charge for this murder, of which Mrs. Haskins is wrongfully accused."
Mrs. Crosbie shrieked, looking a pitiable spectacle of fear and shame, as she clung to her mother. But that stern lady, although white and also terrified, controlled her feelings with iron nerve. "On what grounds do you accuse my daughter?" she demanded.
"I saw you and her in a motor car at Belldown--I saw you on the way here--you were at the gates of the Pixy's House shortly before twelve o'clock, waiting for Bellaria, whom you lured to the gate by means of a letter."
"I was at Bognor--I was at Bognor," cried Mrs. Crosbie, shaking with fear.
"No," interposed Tod. "My clerk went to watch you at Bognor. Neither you nor Mrs. Berch went there at all. You were down here. Come, Mrs. Crosbie, you may as well confess. We can prove all about the motor car, and your presence here."
"Madge! Madge!" cried Rebb, who looked horrified, "is this true?"
But Mrs. Crosbie only clung sobbing to her mother, being terrified almost to death. At the same moment that Rebb spoke Inspector Morgan, with a couple of policemen, entered the quadrangle, and advanced towards the group. "You wanted me here, Mr. Haskins?" he asked inquiringly. "I got your message, and here I am with my men. What is it?"
"In the first place," said Gerald quietly, "allow me to present to you my wife," then when Morgan saluted in a puzzled way, he continued, "once known as Mavis Durham."
"What!" Morgan grew red, and his eyes almost started out of his head. "Do you mean to say that this lady is Mavis Durham?"
"Mavis Haskins now," said the girl, with a perfectly calm smile, "and I surrender myself to you willingly."
"I arrest you in the King's name for murder," gabbled Morgan, trying to recover his official dignity. "Anything you say now will be used in evidence against you." And he signed to his subordinates, likewise startled out of their wits, to take charge of the girl. Arnold sprang forward as a young constable placed his hand on Mavis' arm.
"Stop," he cried. "Mrs. Haskins is innocent. Here is the guilty woman." And he pointed to Mrs. Crosbie.
"No,no!You can't prove that--you dare not--you----"
"I can prove it!" cried Arnold, bluffing. "Mrs. Crosbie was at the gate of the Pixy's House at the time Bellaria Dondi was murdered. A dozen witnesses can swear that she was in the neighborhood."
"Is this true?" Morgan asked the little widow, whose gaiety was all gone, and who suddenly looked twice her age.
"It is not true! It is not true!" she cried. "Mother and I were at Belldown. We went on to see Major Rebb at Denleigh."
"Hush, you fool!" muttered Mrs. Berch, shaking her.
"You never came near me there!" cried Rebb, and then became aware that, on the impulse of the moment, he had ruined the widow. In a paroxysm of shame and terror, for the man did love the miserable woman, he added: "Mrs. Crosbie is innocent. I swear she is. I know who is guilty."
"You?" everyone cried out, Inspector Morgan loudest of all. The scene was beyond his comprehension, and he was on the verge of an apoplectic fit. The whole scene was melodramatic and unreal, and, on the stage, or when written in a book, would have been described so by critics.
"Who is guilty?" demanded Morgan fiercely.
"Geary--Adonis Geary," said Rebb. "The knife was his, and I found him in the grounds when I arrived."
There was a savage shout before he could finish, and Geary sprang from behind the ruined river wall. He had been concealed there, and had heard everything: but he did not appear until his adored master accused him of the crime. Then terror and rage made him leap forward, half mad and half drunk. "You say one big lie, sah!" he shouted, with rolling eyes, and a thick voice. "I lubbed you once, but now you would kill me with a lie. I tell who did kill dat poor Bellaria."
"Who killed her?" asked Gerald, for Morgan was too bewildered to ask.
Geary looked slowly round, and pointed to Mrs. Berch.
"Oh, mother, mother," cried Mrs. Crosbie, "I would have saved you if I could."
There was an absolute silence for a few moments. What with one accusation and another, Inspector Morgan's brain was reeling. Gerald could only stare in blank amazement at the negro, who declared so positively that Mrs. Berch was guilty of a cowardly murder. As for the accused woman, she put aside her weeping daughter gently and faced the police boldly. Tod and Rebb and Arnold were silent out of sheer astonishment. Haskins had thought Geary guilty: Arnold had believed Rebb to be the doer of the deed: Tod deemed that Mrs. Crosbie had struck the blow: but not one of the three ever fancied that Mrs. Berch was the mysterious assassin of the unfortunate Italian.
"Ask this man," said Mrs. Berch harshly, to Morgan, and pointing towards Geary. "Ask him on what grounds he makes such an accusation. My daughter and I certainly were at Belldown, and drove on past Leegarth, intending to call on Major Rebb at the Devon Maid. But our car broke down and we were obliged to stop in a cottage for the night. I can prove an alibi."
"If you can," said Morgan, finding his tongue, "why should your daughter say that she would have saved you if she could?"
"My daughter is mad with terror!" said Mrs. Berch, stonily, "Madge knows that I am wholly innocent," and she looked at Mrs. Crosbie.
"Yes, yes, yes!" whispered the widow faintly, "we stopped the night in a cottage--we are innocent. My mother can prove an alibi."
"Dat one big lie!" cried Geary, with scorn, "you would like de Major to say dat I killed Bellaria. Oh yis, and I wud be hanged. Sah," he turned reproachfully towards his master, who had been willing to sacrifice him for another, after his years of faithful service, "you very wicked massa. I lub you: I do all bad tings for you, but I no die. Dis woman," he pointed to the perfectly calm Mrs. Berch, who was much the most composed of the group, "she come here an' kill Bellaria. She write a letter sayin' dat if Bellaria come to de gate late, she wud be safe from dos who would kill her. And Bellaria she comes, wid my big knife to save herself. Den dis woman," he pointed again at Mrs. Berch, "she stab and stab and stab."
"It is all utterly false," denied the accused woman coldly. "Do you believe this of your mother's friend, Gerald?"
"No," said the young man generously, "there must be some mistake. I cannot believe that Mrs. Berch would be so wicked. Her known character contradicts this man's accusation. I believed that Geary murdered Bellaria himself, at Major Rebb's instigation."
"That's a lie," said Rebb, in an agitated voice.
"Dat one big lie," repeated Geary in his own vernacular, and fumbled in his breast pocket, "see, massa," he went towards Morgan, "dis de letter dat I find in Bellaria's dress, and----"
Mrs. Crosbie made a bound and a grab; but Morgan whisked the letter out of Geary's hand and held it above her head. One of the policemen caught the widow to hold her back, and she burst into tears. "Is this your writing, madam?" Morgan asked Mrs. Berch, holding the letter before her.
"No," said Mrs. Berch, in an unshaken voice. "Mr. Haskins knows my writing well. Gerald, look at the letter."
The young man took the epistle. It was evidently disguised handwriting, clumsy and illiterate. He could not reasonably say that Mrs. Berch had penned the few lines which asked Bellaria to come to the gates of the Pixy's House at midnight on a certain date to meet a well-wisher--so the letter was signed--who could save her from the Tána Society. The script was quite unlike Mrs. Berch's sloping Italian hand, which was that of the mid-Victorian epoch. "No," he said, and very gladly, "I don't think that Mrs. Berch wrote this letter."
"Ah," the woman drew a long breath, but displayed no triumph. "Of course, Mr. Inspector, the charge is absolutely absurd. This mad girl whom Mr. Haskins has married murdered the miserable creature."
"Ah," said Gerald, slipping his arm round Mavis, who shivered, and hid her face, "you return evil for good, Mrs. Berch."
Morgan took the letter and placed it in his pocket. "I don't know what to think," he muttered. "You may be innocent and Geary----" He glanced at the savage face of the negro, who shouted wrathfully.
"I no kill dat woman," he cried, stamping like a wild bull in a rage, "she write de letter, I come to dis house to find de Major, and I find Bellaria dead--she just dying."
"Did she speak?" Mavis asked the question.
"No, she no speak; she die at once. I look in de dress, and I find dat letter and dis." Geary opened his huge black palm, and on it lay the coral hand with the dagger. "Dat on de ground near de dress," he ended.
"Do you recognize this?" asked Morgan, turning to Gerald, while Mrs. Crosbie uttered a wail of fear and Mrs. Berch became even paler than she had been.
Gerald had defended Mrs. Berch before and she had returned his kindness by accusing Mavis. He determined to leave her to her fate, since she was so ungrateful, especially as he readily recognized the coral hand. "So you did not give it back to Venosta after all!" he said to the terrified Mrs. Crosbie. "Mr. Inspector, this amulet belongs to----" He was about to say the name when Mrs. Berch, after a glance of despair around, interrupted.
"It belongs to me," she said harshly, "not to my daughter. Mrs. Crosbie received it from Signor Venosta, but she gave it to me to return to him after she made use of it to control the Jew moneylender. I did not return it to Signor Venosta, I----" She stopped.
"It was found near the corpse of Bellaria by this man," said Morgan gravely, "so if it belonged to you----"
"It hers; it hers," shouted Geary.
"How do you know?" asked Rebb sharply.
"I see dis woman in dat engine," he meant the motor car, "on de hill when I leave Bellaria dead. I run out to see where anyone was, dat kill Bellaria, and I see dat woman wid dis odder in dat engine."
"But you came running from the house," cried Rebb; "you could not----"
"Let be," said Mrs. Berch, evidently recognizing that denial was useless: "no doubt he did see me. But I am guilty and Mrs. Crosbie is perfectly innocent."
"Then you killed the woman?" cried Gerald, appalled.
"Yes. But not intentionally. Listen. From you we learned something about this girl, and then my daughter and I were here on one occasion and knew something beforehand about the matter. We forced Major Rebb to explain, as the girl was supposed to be pretty," she cast a disdainful glance at Mavis, "and my daughter was a trifle jealous. When you, Gerald, came asking Madge to take charge of this girl I took alarm, as I thought that something serious was the matter."
"You did," said Rebb bitterly, "and you forced me to tell you the truth of how my income depended upon Mavis never getting married. But I did not expect you to kill Bellaria so as to save the income."
"I did not do so for that purpose," said Mrs. Berch steadily. "Madge and I were in despair, as only her marriage with you could save us from terrible trouble. When Gerald explained about Bellaria's fear of the coral hand I learned its purport from Signor Venosta. Then I thought that I could use it to bend Bellaria to my will."
"What was your will?" asked Tod, who looked awestruck.
"To insist that Bellaria should take Mavis to Italy and keep her there, so as to prevent her marrying. Then I knew that Major Rebb's income would be safe, and that Madge could marry and take us both out of the horrible misery we endured trying to keep up appearances on nothing."
"On nothing?" cried Haskins suddenly.
"Beyond a hundred a year, Madge and I were penniless," said Mrs. Berch coolly.
"But you lived in style," said Rebb, who seemed to be thunderstruck by these sordid revelations.
"Oh, we are only a couple of adventuresses," said Mrs. Berch ironically, "we deceived everyone, even Gerald's mother, who was as kind and good a woman as ever breathed."
"Don't," muttered the young man softly.
"I am only praising the dead," said Mrs. Berch stolidly. "I say no evil of her. Well then, we were in desperate straits, else I never would have hit on the desperate scheme of getting Bellaria to kidnap Mavis, which was what it amounted to. I told Madge nothing, save, that I wanted to see Major Rebb. We informed Gerald that we were going to Bognor, and we really were going. But, by my plan, we came to Devonshire, and Madge got one of her friends to lend her a motor. She drives excellently, and as we were at Belldown before, she knows the country. I pretended that Major Rebb was at the Pixy's House and had arranged to see me at midnight. This I told my daughter."
"And you believed so ridiculous a story?" said Morgan, fixing an official eye on the shrinking woman. But she only moaned.
"Leave her alone. I am to blame," said Mrs. Berch sharply, "and the murder of Bellaria was pure accident."
"Pure accident!" muttered Arnold ironically.
Mrs. Berch turned on him with a wintry smile. "Yes, sir. The car broke down--that was really an accident. While Madge was seeing what was the matter I said that I would walk on and inquire if Major Rebb was at the house, and could take us in for the night. I came to the gates and waited for a time. Bellaria came at length. She opened the gates in fear and trembling, and was armed with a large yellow-handled knife."
"Dat my knife," muttered the negro, and rolled his eyes.
"I explained who I was, and told her about the marriage. I said that I could put Venosta, as representing the society, on her track, unless she took Mavis to Italy, and kept her single. I promised her a pension, but the foolish creature," Mrs. Berch shrugged her shoulders, "would listen to nothing. She refused to go to Italy, saying that she would be killed there. I showed her the coral hand, and she tried to snatch it from me. We struggled, and she lost her head, saying that I had come to kill her. Once she wounded me in the arm," here Mrs. Berch rolled up her sleeve and showed a newly healed scar of considerable dimensions, "so I tried to take the knife from her. Then----"
"Then?" said Morgan, speaking for the others, who were all tongue-tied and staring at the terrible recital.
Mrs. Berch put a slim hand to her head. "I don't know exactly what took place," she said wearily and indifferently, "but somehow I got the knife, and in the struggle, in the darkness, I stabbed her to the heart. When she fell I was terrified at what I had done, and flung the knife into the long grass--the coral hand had long since fallen to the ground. Then I ran away back to the car. I found Madge had repaired the damage, which was slight. She saw blood on my dress. I told a lie, and we got into the car to fly. On the hill yonder"--she pointed over the ruined wall towards Denleigh--"the car went wrong again. Then it was that we saw a man come running up. It was Geary, but Madge started the car, and we managed to get away. I was not sure if he recognized us."
"You--you," said Geary, with a grin, "in de lamp. I saw you when I come to town wid my massa. But I say noting till my massa want to hang me. I come back and look for dis gal in de house."
"I had fled by that time with Arnold," said Mavis faintly.
"Is that all?" asked Morgan formally, turning to Mrs. Berch.
"What else would you have?" she asked.
"Did your daughter know of----"
"She knew nothing."
"I only knew that my mother had accidentally killed Bellaria," cried Mrs. Crosbie foolishly. "I made her tell me because of the blood----"
"You idiot," said the mother between her teeth.
"Then," said Morgan officially, "I must arrest you both."
"But I am innocent," shrieked Mrs. Crosbie.
"You are an accomplice after the fact," said Morgan. "Come!" He laid a heavy hand on Mrs. Crosbie's shoulder.
She started away with a terrible cry. Rebb flung himself forward to save her. Morgan grappled with him, and Mrs. Berch tried to snatch her daughter out of the way. The others were too startled to move. Mrs. Crosbie, who was mad with fear, tore herself from the grasp of Mrs. Berch, and ran towards the ruined wall, in the vain hope of escaping. "Save me--help me! I won't go to prison. I am innocent--innocent."
In deadly terror she scrambled over the fallen wall. Geary ran forward to stop her from escaping, while Morgan still fought with the Major, and the two policemen were trying to help their superior. On seeing the negro run after Mrs. Crosbie, the mother, silent and savage, moved swiftly across the grass in pursuit. She did not run, but she glided so rapidly that in a moment--as it seemed--she was over the ruins of the wall, and on the verge of the cliff along with Madge. The negro she pushed aside. As the others came running up she cried out: "Madge, let us die together." And before Mrs. Crosbie knew what was in her mother's mind she had leaped into the deep pool, holding her dearly loved daughter, for whom she had sinned so deeply. There was a loud splash, the agonized scream of Mrs. Crosbie, and then silence.