Upon hearing this untruthful and obstinate denial of the baronet's story, Fanks wheeled round his chair, until it directly faced that of Binjoy. At the sullen creature he looked sternly, and shook an emphatic forefinger in his face.
"Now look you here, Dr. Binjoy, or Renshaw, or whatever you choose to call yourself," he said, sternly. "I believe that Sir Louis has spoken the truth about this matter. I have not the least doubt that you and your accomplice, Turnor, lured him into the Tooley Alley crime, with which, to my belief, he has nothing to do whatever. You laid a trap, and he fell into it--unluckily for him; but for his wise resolution to confess his doings on that night to me, I have no doubt that you would have blackmailed him."
"I did not want to blackmail him," said Binjoy in a low voice. "I did not lure him into a trap. On the contrary, when I found out that it was his cousin who had been murdered, I did all I could to save him--to draw suspicion on to myself. I feigned the voyage to Plymouth; I made use of my false name; I sent off Caesar to Bombay; and I closed the mouth of Dr. Turnor. What more could you expect me to do?"
"I quite believe that you did all these things; and for why? Because you wished to rivet your chains more securely on your victim. When you found that he was in possession of the property, you resolved to get whatever money you wanted out of him in order to lead a debauched life in town. Oh, yes, Doctor, I quite believe you changed your name and assumed a disguise while in London. You did not wish that the scampish Renshaw of the Red Star should be identified with, the respectable Dr. Binjoy, late of Taxton-on-Thames, and now of Mere Hall in Hampshire. I can understand that, and I can understand that you designed the murder so that Sir Louis could become possessed of money which you intended to spend."
"I did not design the murder," said Binjoy, in a hoarse voice. "I swear I do not know who committed the crime. When I was called in by Mrs. Boazoph, I was as ignorant as anyone that Gregory Fellenger had been murdered. I only acted as I did because I saw how dangerous it was that Louis should be suspected. He was in the neighbourhood--"
"Lured there by yourself?"
"No! No! I did not lure him there. That we should be at Turnor's house, so near to Tooley's at that time, was quite an accident."
"Was it an accident that Dr. Turnor came down to Taxton-on-Thames, and threatened to blackmail me," broke in Louis.
"I know nothing of what Turnor said or did. It was not because you paid him money that he held his tongue; but because I told him to do so."
"You tried to blackmail me, also. That was why we quarrelled; that was why you were going away next week. And I dare swear, Binjoy," added Sir Louis, quietly, "that had you gone, you would have found means to betray me to the police. That is why I have told Mr. Fanks everything. You cannot harm me now.
"Don't you be too sure of that," growled Binjoy; "you have got to clear yourself of suspicion."
"Sir Louis has cleared himself in my eyes," said Fanks. "But you have yet to explain what became of the poisoned needle."
"I do not know; I missed it as did Sir Louis, but I do not know who took it. You can't prove that I committed the crime."
"I am not sure of that," said Fanks, coolly. "See here, Dr. Binjoy, you wanted Sir Louis to get the Fellenger estates so that you could handle the money. Sir Louis can prove that much. You had access to this poisoned needle with which the crime was committed; you went up to London on the evening of the twenty-first of June; you repaired to the Red Star about the time the deed was committed; you lied about your name; you took a pretended voyage; you sent your negro to Bombay in order to throw the suspicion on him. Now you attempt to blackmail Sir Louis--you and Turnor--by threatening to accuse him of committing a crime of which he is guiltless. From my own soul I believe that he is the victim of conspiracy; I believe that you lured him up to Great Auk Street to entangle him in the matter. And," added Fanks, rising, "I believe that you, in disguise of a negro, killed Sir Gregory Fellenger with that poisoned needle."
"I did not. I swear I did not. It is all a mistake," gasped the wretched man. "Ask Turnor."
"The other blackguard, the other blackmailer? No, thank you. He would only lie to me as you are doing. You are guilty. Confess your share in this crime. Confess the mystery of the tattooed cross."
"The tattooed cross? What do you know about the tattooed cross?"
"More than you think," returned Fanks, significantly. "What about Madaline Garry and her revenge?"
Binjoy's eyes seemed to be starting out of his head with terror and surprise. His face was of a deathly paleness, and great drops of perspiration rolled down his cheeks. He tried to speak, but the words rattled in his throat, and with a gasp the man, strong as he was, fainted quietly in the chair. He had been struck down by his own terrors; rendered insensible by an instinctive knowledge of his danger.
"What do you intend to do, Mr. Fanks?" asked Louis, looking at the inanimate form of Binjoy with strong distaste. "Arrest this man?"
"I do. I shall send a telegram to London to get a detective down. In the meantime--I shall stay here so as not to lose sight of him."
"You don't think that I would help him to escape?" said Louis, indignantly. "I am only too glad to see the scoundrel captured. He has been the curse of my life ever since my father placed me in his care; he spoilt my nature, he half ruined me, but I stood it all until he tried to blackmail me. Then I revolted against his tyranny. If you had not appeared here so opportunely I should have written for you to come and hear my confession. I admit that I was afraid to speak before, for these villains had laid their plans so skilfully that I was afraid my tale would not be believed. But now the scamp has been caught in his own trap, and I am glad of it."
"All the same, I am not sure that he killed your cousin."
"Why not? All the circumstances seem to point to his having done so."
"No doubt. But some time ago I thought I had spotted the person who had executed the crime. From that opinion I am not inclined to depart. Evidently, Binjoy knows all about the affair, and possibly he may be brought in as the accessory before the fact, but you can see for yourself that the man is a rank coward. He has fainted. No man of his timid nature would be brave enough to commit so daring a crime, and then face me within an hour of such commission. No, Sir Louis, we have not yet caught the assassin."
"Then why arrest Binjoy?"
"Because he knows who is guilty, and I wish to force him into confession. Just send the servant with this telegram, will you, and tell him to ask if there are any letters for me at the Pretty Maid Inn?"
"What about Binjoy?"
"Leave him here with me for a time. Should I get a letter I may ask you to take me over the house. Till then I shall watch my man."
"What is this letter you expect?" demanded Louis, with curiosity.
"I'll tell you that when I have despatched my telegram. Send a groom with it at once, please."
Sir Louis obeyed and left the room, while Fanks remained to revive the insensible Binjoy. He threw water on his face, loosened his collar, but the doctor still continued insensible. Becoming alarmed, Fanks rang the bell, and sent for a medical man. The upshot of the affair was that Binjoy was put to bed in high fever. The shock inflicted on him by the detective had unsettled his brain; and when Crate arrived at Mere Hall there was no question of arresting the guilty man. Binjoy was dangerously ill, and suffering from an attack of brain fever. What with the doctor ill in the country and Mrs. Boazoph ill in town, Fanks began to grow uneasy. If all the principals of the case were rendered incapable of confession in this manner, he did not see how he was to arrive at any solution of the riddle. He was two days meditating over the next move in the game. "Mrs. Boazoph knows something," said Fanks, to himself, "and Dr. Binjoy knows more; but if both are ill and incapable of confession, what am I to do?"
There was no answer to this question, but later on the detective's hands were full in elucidating the mystery of the tattooing. He asked the baronet if he knew anything about the fancy Sir Francis had for pricking crosses on the arms of women whom he loved.
"I never heard of it," said Louis. "I did not know much about my uncle Francis, and still less about my cousin, his son Gregory. I am afraid we are a singularly unamiable family, Mr. Fanks, for we all seem to quarrel."
"Have you quarrelled with Garth?"
"Not exactly. But we do not get on well together. He used to come and see me at Taxton-on-Thames, but I am afraid he thought me a scientific prig. Indeed, he hinted so much."
Fanks laughed at this, remembering how Garth had made use of the words attributed to him by Sir Louis. However, he did not explain the reason of his laughter, but asked the baronet about Madaline Garry. To this also he received a denial. Sir Louis knew nothing about the lady or her connection with the late Sir Francis.
"All these things were before my time," he said, shaking his head. "If you want to know about our family secrets, ask Mrs. Prisom, at the inn. I believe she is a perfect book of anecdotes regarding the Fellenger family."
"I have asked her," said Fanks, quietly. "She told me a great deal; but not all I wish to know. Is there anyone else?"
"Well, there was Mrs. Jerusalem," said Sir Louis. "But she has walked off. I intended to tell you, since you referred to her."
"Where has she gone?"
"I do not know. On that day you met her she went off and never came back. I can't say I am sorry, as I feel, from your description, she bore me ill-will. Perhaps on account of the way my father treated her; but you must ask Mrs. Prisom to tell you that story."
"I don't need to do that," replied Fanks. "I know that Mrs. Jerusalem hated you, and that is enough. She must have intended to bolt the day I met her; but I thought she would have waited with the amiable intention of assisting you into trouble. I wish I knew where she had gone."
"Perhaps she will come back?"
"Let us hope so. Now that Binjoy is ill, and she hates him, I should like to know what she can say about him. By the way, there is a question I wish to ask you. Why was it, when you were afraid of being implicated in the crime, that you offered to supply the money for me to hunt down the criminal?"
"Well, that was Binjoy's idea. You see he thought that he had completely destroyed the trail likely to bring you across my track; so he said it would still further avert suspicion if I offered that reward. I did so, but, to tell you the honest truth, if I had not intended to confide in you in order to stop the blackmailing of Messrs. Binjoy and Turnor, I should not have risked doing so. By the way, are you going to arrest that atrocious little scamp?"
"Not yet. Binjoy is ill, and cannot have warned him; Mrs. Boazoph is in the same plight; no, I will let him wait. He has no idea that he is in any danger. When the time comes, I will pounce on him, if necessary; though I hope he will not take a fit also. I can get nothing out of Binjoy or Mrs. Boazoph, while they are ill."
"You may not need to do so. You may find out the truth when the letter comes from Hersham."
"I wish it would come," said Fanks. "I want to know why he has the same symbol on his arm as that on the arms of Mrs. Prisom and Madaline Garry."
"You speak as if Madaline Garry were still alive?"
"Mrs. Jerusalem says she is. That is why I want to trace Mrs. Jerusalem; she might help me to learn where I can find Madaline Garry. The clue to the mystery of the cross lies with her; or else," added Fanks, "it is hidden in the desk of the late Sir Francis. You remember I told you his parting words to Mrs. Prisom?"
Two days after this the long expected letter came from Hersham. And not only from him, but one from his father, was enclosed also. The contents caused Fanks surprise; and yet, he half expected to read what he did. He was beginning to guess the mystery which filled Dr. Binjoy and Mrs. Boazoph with such fear. After all, he would be able to discover the truth without them; although their testimony would be necessary to confirm it.
"Dear Fanks" (wrote Hersham). "When you read the enclosed, you will be astonished, as I was. I have not yet recovered from the shock of learning the truth; but, as you will see, the mystery of the tattooed cross is a greater one than ever. I can give you no assistance--all is told in the enclosed letter, which I particularly asked to be written for you. I cannot say if it will solve the Tooley Alley riddle, but it has certainly invested my life with a mystery which I shall not rest until I solve. I can write no more, for my head is in a whirl. Tell me what you think of enclosed. And believe me, yours, Ted Hersham (as I suppose I may still sign myself)."
The enclosed was a letter from the Rev. George Hersham, to the effect that Ted was not his son; that he was no relation to him.
"I am a bachelor" (wrote Mr. Hersham). "I adopted Ted from motives of pity, and a desire to cheer my lonely life. Nearly twenty-eight years age, a poorly clad woman came to my door. She was starving, and carried an infant in her arms. I gave her succour, and procured her work. After a time, she grew restless, and wished to go away, but in that time I had become fond of the child. In the end, I offered to adopt it. To this she consented, rather to my surprise; though, indeed, she did not seem at any time very much attached to the babe. However, she gave me the child, and went away with a little money I had given her. I afterwards received a letter from her in London, but she then stopped writing, and for years I have never heard anything about her. The child--now my son, Ted--was marked with a cross on the left arm, when I adopted him. The woman never told me why he had been so tattooed. I knew nothing of the woman's history, save that her name was--Madaline Garry."
On receipt of Mr. Hersham's letter, Fanks sought out Sir Louis, and showed him the communication. He had told the baronet all that he had heard from Mrs. Prisom; for, without permission, he could not hope to examine the desk of the late Sir Francis. If he did not do so, he would not be able to discover the secret of the tattooed cross; therefore, for the gaining of his ends, and also with a belief in Fellenger's good sense, he made him his confidant, and finally placed the letter in his hands. Louis read it carefully; and, knowing all that had gone before, he understood it partially. Nevertheless, he was puzzled as to the real meaning of the affair; and looked to Fanks for an explanation.
"What do you think of that?" asked Fanks, when the baronet gave back the letter in silence. "Can you understand it?"
"I do not think it is very difficult to understand," said Fellenger, with a shrug of his shoulders, "Madeline Garry went from the Isle of Wight; she was starving, and she met with a good Samaritan, who took her in. Afterwards, she sought London, and left her child behind to be adopted. That child is your friend, Edward Hersham. The story is plain enough."
"It is so far as you have related it. But Hersham has the cross of St. Catherine tattooed on his arm. Why should the child of Madaline Garry be marked in that way?"
"Perhaps my uncle marked the child. He seemed to have had a passion for tattooing."
"Why should Sir Francis mark the child of Fielding?"
There was something so significant in the tone of the detective that Sir Louis looked at him intently. What he saw in his face prompted his next remark. "You don't think Hersham is illegitimate, do you?" he asked.
"Indeed, that is my opinion," returned Fanks. "Why was Sir Francis afraid of Madaline Garry? Because he had done her a wrong. Why did she marry Fielding, almost on the same day that your uncle married Miss Darmer? Why did Sir Francis tattoo the child with his favourite cross? The answer to all these questions is--to my mind--to be found in the fact that the child of Madaline Garry was also the child of Sir Francis Fellenger. I feel convinced that Hersham is the half-brother of the man who was murdered at Tooley's Alley."
"It seems likely," assented Louis, nursing his chin with his hand. "But how can you establish the truth of your statement?"
"There are two ways. One is by asking Binjoy. He may know as he was in attendance both at the birth of Gregory, and at that of Hersham. He may tell the truth; but as he is delirious, there is no chance of getting any information from him. The second way is to find out Madaline Garry, and force her to own up. But the only person who knows where she is, is Mrs. Jerusalem, who has vanished. If I find Mrs. Jerusalem, I may find the other woman. But at present that is impossible also."
"Quite impossible. I do not see what you can do."
"Do you remember what Mrs. Prisom said about the desk in the study of your late uncle?"
"Yes. She alluded to some secret in connection with the desk, which was to be used for the benefit of Gregory, should Madaline Garry attempt to revenge herself."
"Exactly. Well, we must examine the desk. I fancy that Sir Francis, dreading the anger of the woman whom he had wronged, wrote out a full account of his sin; and of the reason why he tattooed the cross on the arm of the child. If we can find that paper--which Sir Francis plainly hinted was in the desk, we may discover why your cousin was murdered."
"I cannot conceive what you mean."
"You will know soon enough," replied Fanks, a trifle sadly. "I have a very shrewd idea of what will be the outcome of my search. If things are as I think, it will not be long before I run down the assassin of Sir Gregory. I have an instinct--and more than an instinct--that the clue to the mystery which has eluded me so long, is about to be placed in my hand. I shall be pleased for my own sake; I shall be sorry for yours."
"Why. What do you mean? I do not understand. Explain yourself, Mr. Fanks."
"No," replied Fanks, shaking his head. "I may be wrong, and I do not wish to cause you unnecessary pain. Let me examine the desk. If I am wrong, all the better for you; all the worse for the case. If am right, I had rather you learned the truth without my intervention. Come, Sir Louis, let us seek the study of your late uncle. Do you know where it is?"
"Oh, yes," said Sir Louis, leading the way. "It has been shut up since his death. You know my cousin was not a man of books, so he did not use it. As for myself, I am always in my laboratory in the old wing. If Sir Francis left any secret paper in his desk, it will be there still. Unless," added Louis, with an afterthought, "unless it was taken away by the woman he feared."
"No. If the paper had given Madaline Garry power to revenge herself on the heir of her old lover, she would have used that power; and then Mrs. Prisom might have interfered by acting on the last request of Sir Francis. Nothing of this has happened; so I am sure that if the paper is in that desk, we shall find it; if we find it we shall learn the truth about this tattooed cross; and, consequently, discover the motive which prompted the murder of your cousin."
After which speech, the detective went with Sir Louis to the study of the late Sir Francis Fellenger.
Sir Louis unlocked the door; and they entered into the long-disused room. It had been shut up for many years, the atmosphere was dusty and musty, with a chill smell of decay. Fanks opened the shutters, and the strong sunlight poured into the apartment; it illumined the dusty carpet on which their feet made marks; it gleamed on the old-fashioned furniture, cumbersome and comfortless, such as was used in the early days of the Victorian era; and--to the satisfaction of the detective--it revealed a mahogany escritoire, all drawers and pigeon-holes, and brass handles. The key, massive and rusty, was still in the lock; and Louis, turning it over with, a harsh creak, threw open the heavy sheet of mahogany which covered the writing cloth. This was lined with dingy green cloth, ink-stained and dusty, but on it there rested no papers nor pens nor ink. Evidently the papers had been arranged before the desk had been closed, and left to its many years' solitude.
Fanks bent down and unlocked the drawers one after the other. These contained nothing but masses of newspaper, everyone of which they examined carefully, but without finding any writing referring to the cross. There were also bundles of old letters; and musty accounts, and ancient records of ships, and stores, and divers expenses; doubtless remnants of Fellenger's naval days. In another drawer they found sea-shells, and seaweed mounted on cardboard; while some shallow repositories contained pictures, and small charts. But nowhere could they discover the paper to which Sir Francis had referred in that last long conversation with Mrs. Prisom.
"Well, it is not in any of these," said Fanks, rising with a look of disappointment. "I wonder where it can be?"
"Perhaps there is a secret drawer," suggested Sir Louis.
"It is not unlikely; and no doubt the paper would be hidden in such a receptacle out of fear of the woman.
"I believe you are right, Sir Louis; let us look for a secret drawer. If there is one I shall find it; I have been at this sort of work before; and I have an idea how to go about it."
Fanks made no vain boast, for after a hard search of an hour or more; after sounding with the knuckles and measuring with a tape, they stumbled across a hiding-place, contrived in the thickness of the wood at the back of the desk. Herein was a paper yellow with age, which Fanks drew slowly out; for it was so fragile with time that he thought it would crumble in his hand; carrying this to the strong light of the window he read carefully, while Sir Louis waited for a revelation of its contents. The face of the detective paled when he read it; and he glanced pityingly at the baronet, when he finished his perusal.
"It is the paper I hoped to find," he said, slowly, "and it clears up the most important point of the case. But I told you, Mr. Fellenger, that the contents would give you pain. Read them for yourself."
"Why do you call me Mr. Fellenger?" asked Louis, quietly.
"You will find the answer to that question in this paper," replied Fanks, and passed it to the baronet. After a pause, and a sharp glance at the detective, Fellenger took the thin yellow sheet, and read it slowly. This was what he read, in the faded handwriting of Sir Francis:
"I have deceived Madaline Garry; I am the father of the child born to her about the same time that my heir, Gregory, was born. Madaline wished me to marry her; but, for reasons which I need not explain here, I was unable to do so. She married Luke Fielding, and he is supposed to be the father of her child. This is not so; the boy is mine. When my wife died, Madaline insisted on coming to the Hall and nursing Gregory. For obvious reasons I could not refuse her; she would have revealed the truth, and have disgraced me and her family, had I not yielded to her wish. She came to the Hall with her own child and nursed that of my late wife. But I was afraid that she would change the children so that her son should enjoy what rightfully belonged to his half-brother. I was twice nearly sending her away on account of this fear; but she threatened to disgrace me by revealing the truth; so I let her stay. But, to avert the danger, I one night tattooed on the left arm of my son, Gregory, the cross of St. Catherine, which I had already tattooed on the arm of Madaline and of Nancy Prisom. Should the children be changed, and I die, the truth can be ascertained by the tattooed cross. The child marked with the cross is my son and heir, Gregory Fellenger; the other is his brother, Edward, the son of myself and Madaline Garry. I hope, in this way, that I shall prevent Madaline from revenging herself on me, as I feel sure she intends to do.
(Signed), Francis Luddham Fellenger."
On reading this extraordinary document, Louis felt the room whirl round him, and he was fain to be seated. Fanks turned silently towards him and received back the paper--the paper which robbed the young man at one sweep of title and property. Louis recovered himself, and smiled faintly. "I understand," he said, in a low tone, "Sir Gregory enjoyed the title and estates wrongfully; Hersham is the rightful heir."
"Yes. Madaline Garry fulfilled her vengeance. She put her child in the place of the real heir, after the death of Sir Francis, and took away the son of Lady Fellenger. That was why she came to the Hall to be the nurse; she wanted her child to enjoy the property. Owing to the tattooing and the father being alive, she could not change the children; but when Sir Francis was killed she did so, and therefore secured the title for her son. I now understand why she parted so readily with Hersham so that he should be adopted by the Vicar of Fairview; he was not her child, but that of her rival in the affections of Sir Francis; I can see all this; so can you; but," added Fanks, with hesitation, "can you guess how this discovery affects you?"
"Certainly," replied Louis, calmly, "I shall have to give the property up to my cousin, who now goes by the name of Hersham. I assure you, I shall not mind the loss so much as you seem to think. As I told you, I care nothing for money, and everything for science. Oh, believe me, Mr. Fanks, I am quite content to surrender title and estates, and go back to Taxton-on-Thames, as plain Louis Fellenger."
"You can contest this matter?"
"I shall not contest the matter. I believe that paper to be true. We found it together; and it proved beyond a doubt--by the evidence of the cross tattooed on Hersham's left arm, that he is the rightful Sir Gregory, and the owner of these estates. Let him have them; I shall not raise one finger to prevent his enjoying what is rightfully his own. Besides, I like Hersham--as I may still call him--he is a good fellow. I used to meet him at Taxton-on-Thames. Let him marry Anne Colmer, and take up his position; he will make a much better baronet than I."
They left the room, and went downstairs again to the library. In there Louis asked Fanks a question which had been in his mind for some time.
"I say, Mr. Fanks," he said, "what makes you say that this tattooed cross clears up the mystery of Tooley's Alley?"
"Well," said Fanks, "someone must have known this story; and have told it to Sir Gregory. That was why he allowed the cross to be tattooed on his arm."
"I don't see that."
"Why, the person who told him the story assured him that the only chance he had of keeping the property was to be tattooed with the mark, which Sir Francis said was on the arm of his real heir."
"Oh, I understand now. But who was the person who told Sir Gregory the secret of that cross and tattooed it on his arm?"
"Ah," said Fanks, "tell me the name of that person, and I'll tell you the assassin of the son of Madaline Garry, who wrongfully bore the title and name of Sir Gregory Fellenger."
Immediately after this great discovery, Fanks received a letter from Garth informing him that Mrs. Jerusalem was in London, located at the Red Star. "Mrs. Boazoph," said the writer, "is much better, and is now permitted to leave her bed; rather I fancy to the disappointment of Turnor. Should you want to get any information out of Mrs. Boazoph now is the time to do so." The result of this communication was that Fanks resolved to go at once to town and interview the landlady.
"You see that I want to get something out of Mrs. Boazoph," he said to Louis. "I want her to tell me who killed Sir Gregory."
"Do you think she knows that?"
"I think she has known it all along," retorted Fanks. "You can take it from me, Fellenger, she recognised the negro when he entered the hotel on that night. For some reason, which I mean to discover, she has held her tongue. I intend to force her to reveal the name by threatening to arrest Hersham, in the event of her refusing to speak."
"Will she tell in order to save Hersham?"
"I think so; and for more reasons than one. You see she fainted when I told her that I could prove the crime against that young man. It may be that she knows how hardly he has been dealt with by Madeline Garry, and therefore she may be anxious to save him further trouble."
"But how could she learn the story of Madeline Garry and the changing of the children," objected Fellenger.
"From Anne Colmer, who must have learned it from Dr. Binjoy. I believe he is at the bottom of the whole affair. I do not say that he killed Gregory; but he can tell us who did."
"How can you prove that?"
"Well, the person who killed Gregory must have known that story of the changing of the children, so as to induce him to let the cross be tattooed on his arm. Dr. Binjoy must have told that person; Dr. Binjoy must have supplied that needle; Dr. Binjoy, my friend, is at the bottom of the whole devilish affair."
"You forget Madeline Garry; she might have told the murderer about the changing of the children."
"I don't think so. Madeline would not have been likely to reveal anything detrimental to her son; and on the face of it she could not have obtained access to the poisoned needle. No, I suspect Binjoy as an accessory before the fact. I shall see Mrs. Jerusalem, and force her to tell me where to find Madeline Garry; though to be sure I have a pretty good notion of where to find her as it is."
"What! Do you know who Madeline Garry is?"
"I think so. A speech of Mrs. Prisom's put me on her track; but I may be wrong so I shall say nothing as yet."
"You are clever in guessing things, Mr. Fanks. Perhaps you can tell me who killed Gregory?"
"Well," said Fanks, looking straight at his questioner, "I might even go as far as that. I do not know for certain who is the assassin; but I have a shrewd notion. I shall have my doubts set at rest on that point when I see these women in town. I shall interview Mrs. Boazoph, take down her confession, and make her sign it. I shall act in the same way with Binjoy, with Anne Colmer, with Robert, the valet of the dead man, and with Turnor, the accomplice of your medical friend."
"Do you think they are all in it?"
"I am more than certain they are," said Fanks in a confident tone. "Well, Mr. Fellenger, will you come up with me and see the last act of the comedy?"
"No, I shall stay here with Mr. Crate; and keep an eye on Dr. Binjoy, But you must write me all that befalls you at the Red Star. Do you really think that you will find the truth in that house?"
"I am certain of it. Believe me the tragedy will end as it began--in the Red Star in Tooley's Alley. I hope all will go as I wish," added Fanks with a gloomy air. "I have had no end of trouble with this case. And although I think I see daylight at last, I must not be too confident. The whole proving of my theory lies with Mrs. Boazoph."
Having thus settled his plans, Fanks left Crate at Mere Hall to look after Dr. Binjoy, and repaired to town. Immediately on his arrival, which took place about noon, he sent for Garth, and questioned him concerning Mrs. Jerusalem. Having received satisfactory replies, he entrusted a special commission to the lawyer, and, with a detective, he went himself to the Red Star. That short conversation with Fanks so astonished Garth, that he went on his errand--which had to do with such conversation--in a state of great surprise and no little nervousness.
At the Red Star Fanks inquired for Mrs. Jerusalem, and was confronted by Dr. Turnor. The ferret looked rather disconcerted as the detective appeared; and tried to dissuade him from seeing Mrs. Boazoph as he wished to do. "She is yet weak," he urged, "and I do not think it will be wise of you to talk with her as yet."
"I don't care how weak she is," said Fanks, grimly. "I intend to talk to her, and to you too."
"What can you have to say to me?" demanded Turnor, with an attempt at bravado.
"I'll tell you that after I have seen Mrs. Boazoph and Mrs. Jerusalem," was the reply. "I know all your doings on the night of the twenty-first, Dr. Turnor; and I am aware of your attempt to blackmail Sir Louis Fellenger."
After which speech Fanks went upstairs to the room occupied by Mrs. Boazoph. At the door he met with Mrs. Jerusalem. She looked at him in an expressionless way, and spoke in her usual cold and unemotional manner. Her first question was of Fanks' visit to Mere Hall.
"Did you find out the truth, sir?" she asked.
"I found out the truth; but not the particular truth you wished for," replied Fanks, who disliked this woman immensely. "Your master is not guilty."
"Then who is guilty if he is not?"
"I'll reveal that in a few moments, Mrs. Jerusalem. I may tell you that I know all about Madaline Garry and the tattooed cross, also about Mr. Louis Fellenger."
The woman drew back, and for the first time since Fanks had known her, an expression of surprise flitted across her face. "He said Mr. Louis," she said to herself. "How much does he know?"
"He knows most of the circumstances which led to the murder in this house," retorted Fanks, moving towards the door, "and now with your assistance he is about to learn the rest."
"At all events the truth will be bad for Louis Fellenger," muttered Mrs. Jerusalem. "If it was to benefit him I would not move a step. As it is," she added, throwing open the door, "come in, Mr. Fanks, and ask Mrs. Boazoph to tell you the story she related to me this morning."
Fanks nodded, and without saying a word entered the apartment. In spite of the warm weather there was a fire burning in the grate, and beside it crouched Mrs. Boazoph. She was seated on the carpet warming her thin hands at the blaze; and she turned her face as the detective entered. He was astonished at the change wrought in her by illness. Her face was lined and drawn with pain; her hair was falling about her ears in rough masses; and the looseness of her dress showed how emaciated she had become. The poor creature was but a shadow of the notorious woman who had defied the police for so long; and at the first glance Fanks saw that death was written on her haggard face. If there was anything to be learned from this wreck there was no time to be lost in hearing it. Nemesis had claimed at least one victim for the death of Sir Gregory Fellenger;--or rather Edward Fielding.
"Have you come here to see me die, Mr. Fanks?" asked Mrs. Boazoph, with a faint smile.
"I hope it is not so bad as that," replied Fanks gently, for he pitied the exhaustion of the poor creature. "You may get better."
Mrs. Boazoph shook her head. "I think not," she said quietly. "The end is coming fast. I do not care; my life has been none so happy that I should wish to live. I am anxious to die."
"Are you anxious to make reparation for your crimes?"
With a start Mrs. Boazoph looked at the other woman, who still stood at the door. "What have you told him?" she asked in a hoarse voice.
"I have told him nothing," replied Mrs. Jerusalem, coldly, "but he knows all."
"That is impossible," muttered Mrs. Boazoph, with a shiver. "He cannot know all. Who is there to tell him?"
"I was told by the dead."
"The dead? What dead?"
"By your dead lover, on whose son you avenged your betrayal, Mrs. Bryant."
She shivered, and looked up angrily. "Not that name, I am not Mrs. Bryant."
"I can give you another name if you like," said Fanks, pointedly. "Shall I say Mrs. Fielding or--Madaline Garry?"
The woman rose to her knees with an effort; and parting the tangled mass of her grey hair she looked at Fanks in a terrified manner. "Madaline Garry is dead," she said, in a low voice. "She died when she married Luke Fielding. Neglect and dishonour killed her."
"Madaline Garry did not die then," said Fanks, determinedly. "She lived to avenge herself on her lover by exchanging his child for that of her own."
"They were both his children," cried Mrs. Boazoph, with sudden fury, "I see you know all; so I can speak as I choose. I loved Francis Fellenger, and he betrayed me. I should have been his wife, but, like the coward he was, he married another woman. I became the wife of Luke Fielding, of the man I hated, in order to conceal the truth from my father. The child I bore was not his. It should have borne the title of the Fellengers."
"And it did bear the title of the Fellengers," said Fanks, in an impressive voice. "It took the place of the real heir, thanks to your schemes. And you, Madaline Garry, deserted the infant of your rival, after you had robbed him of his birthright. Wretched woman; make reparation while you can; give back his name to Edward Hersham, before it is too late, or" added Fanks, drawing nearer, "keep silence to the end; and let him suffer on the gallows for the murder of your son."
"No! No!" shrieked Mrs. Boazoph, clutching at her chair to raise herself, "not that, anything but that. He is innocent. I tell you that he is innocent!"
"If he is innocent, who then is guilty?" asked Fanks.
Mrs. Boazoph reeled, and would have fallen but for the arm of Mrs. Jerusalem, who sprang forward to catch her. A draught of brandy brought back her strength, and she sat in the chair by the fire, rocking herself to and fro, with heart-rending sobs. Fanks approached to speak to her, but she waved him off.
"Do not touch her yet," said Mrs. Jerusalem, in a low tone, "she will recover soon."
Quiet as was the whisper, Mrs. Boazoph heard it, and moaned. "Never, never on this side of the grave," he wept. "My race is run; and weary have been my days. I never had a chance like other women. Once I was Madaline Garry, the darling of her father, the prettiest girl in Damington. But Francis Fellenger made me what I am. I curse him, living or dead, I curse him." She broke into hysterical laughter. "I revenged myself well. I put my child and his in the place of the heir. It was my son who reigned at Mere Hall; it was my son who spent the moneys of that evil family, and bore their title. I am glad of it; I am glad of it. The real heir--her child--had to work for his bread; but mine reigned in his place; he took the seat of his father. Of what use was it that Francis marked his son as he marked me? See," she cried, pulling up the sleeve of her dress. "Do you see this cross on my skin, you bloodhound of the law? Francis Fellenger marked me like that to show that I was his wife; yet he married another. Francis marked his legitimate son like that, yet the son ate the bread of strangers, and another sat in his seat. I have done my work, I have had my revenge, I am willing to die."
"Are you willing that the son whom you disinherited should die at the hands of justice?"
Mrs. Boazoph moaned, and hid her face in her hands. "Ah, no!" she said, in a plaintive voice. "He has suffered enough. My son is dead, so let the other take back his name and estates. My son is dead; he perished in the house of his mother; the mother who was too cowardly to avenge him, who was afraid to reveal the name of the assassin. My son is dead, but not by the hand of his half-brother did he meet with his death."
"Then who killed him. Tell me," cried Fanks, eagerly. "You have sinned. Make what reparation you can for your sins while there is yet time. Look up, Madaline Garry, and tell me if that man slew your son?"
While Fanks had been speaking, the door had opened softly, and Garth in the company of another man appeared on the threshold. The two stood spell-bound when they heard this speech of the detective; and Mrs. Boazoph turned her face slowly towards them. Suddenly she crushed down her weakness, and arose to her feet with miraculous strength. Stretching out her hand at the man who stood terror-stricken awaiting her words, she cried out in a shrill and triumphant voice:
"Yonder is the man who killed my son; yonder is the man who must suffer in the place of Edward Hersham. You wish to know who came here as a negro and killed my son? There he stands--Herbert Vaud!"
"I thought so," murmured Fanks, and the next instant he had the handcuffs on Vaud's wrists.
The evidence of Mrs. Boazoph:--
"My name is Madaline Garry. I was born in the village of Damington, where my father lived for years after his retirement from the navy. I have one sister, Jane, now Mrs. Colmer, of Taxton-on-Thames. We lost our mother at an early age, and, being without maternal care, we grew up to be rather more independent than most young women. Jane was always much quieter than I, and she was not considered so beautiful. Yes, I am now an old woman, and I can speak without vanity; I was considered very beautiful, in my youth, and I had many lovers who wished to marry me. Luke Fielding especially was in love with me, but I refused to marry him as, in my turn, I was in love with Sir Francis Fellenger. He had then lately given up the sea on his accession to the title; but still retaining his pleasure in his old profession he was accustomed to visit my father, and the two would talk over naval matters together.
"At first he came solely for these chats, but afterwards he came because he was in love with me. Had I played my cards well, I might have been Lady Fellenger; but in my love and weakness I trusted too much to his honour, and I learned, too late, that he had none. He had promised to make me his wife; but he afterwards told me that the fortunes of his family were at a low ebb; that if he did not make a rich marriage he should be forced to sell the Hall. He swore that he loved no one but me, and said that although he married another woman I should always be his real wife. Again I yielded to his cunning, and held my peace about his villainy. Nay, more, to hide his wickedness, I married my old admirer, Luke Fielding, almost at the same time that Francis brought home Miss Darmer to take the place which should have been mine. I should have been Lady Fellenger, and not that puling minx. Afterwards, I discovered that he loved her--loved her, the villain, after all the lies he had told to me. I swore to be revenged, and I told him so.
"Then my husband died, and I was left penniless, as Luke had been trying to increase his fortune by speculation. I became a mother, and the son born of me had the right to call Sir Francis Fellenger father. In my destitution I went back to my father, and nursed my boy, while I watched events at the Hall. There the punishment of Francis had already begun. His wife, for whose sake he had forsaken me, died at the birth of her son. So matters stood. The two children, both of Francis Fellenger, although but one was acknowledged, had been born within a few days of one another. A nurse was wanted at the Hall. I required money; and I saw an opportunity of working out my revenge by changing the children. I insisted that I should come to the Hall as the nurse of the heir. Francis resisted, until I swore to reveal all his villainy. Then he yielded, and I attained my end; I was established at Mere Hall as the nurse of the heir, and my child, Edward Fielding--falsely so called--was in the nursery with me.
"The two children lay side by side in the cradle. I could have changed them then, but I was unable to do so with safety; for, guessing my purpose, Francis had marked his son with the St. Catharine's Cross, which he had long before pricked on my arm. I could not, therefore, change the children with safety while Francis lived, and I began to think that I should not succeed in my revenge. Then the powers above us intervened. Francis, while driving home one stormy night, was thrown out of his dog-cart and killed. I saw my opportunity, and I took it. Nobody knew of the tattooed cross on the skin of the real heir, save myself and Dr. Binjoy, who had been attending on both children. He was in love with me, and I made him promise to be silent. When I had secured his promise, which I did by saying that I would marry him, I changed the children; in the cradle of the heir I placed my own child, and with the son of my rival I left the village.
"I never intended to marry Binjoy, whom I hated, and when I fled he was forced to hold his tongue, lest he should be accused of complicity in the abduction. I went to London, but my money came to an end; I travelled to the Isle of Wight, where my sister was staying. She had left Ryde, I found out, and had gone to Scotland. I had no money, I was hungry, and perishing with cold, when I was rescued by that good Samaritan, the Vicar of Fairview. He wished to adopt the child, and, as I hated it, as being the son of my rival in the affections of Francis, I let him take it. Then I went to London, afterwards to Scotland, where I lived with my sister, who married Mr. Colmer. Later on I became the wife of a drunken and wealthy brute called Bryant. Then came misfortune. My sister's husband lost his money, and died of broken heart. She took her little girls, Emma and Anne, and set up in Taxton-on-Thames as a dressmaker.
"I came South with my husband. He lost his money also, but he was set up by his friends in the Red Star public-house in Tooley's Alley. We took the name of Mr. and Mrs. Boazoph, so as to cut off all links with our former lives. My husband drank, and ultimately he died of drink. As Mrs. Boazoph I carried on the business and drifted into evil ways. I assisted thieves and rogues. If you wish to know my history for twenty years ask the police; they will tell it to you. My sister had become paralytic and never knew me as Mrs. Boazoph. To her I was Mrs. Bryant, living on the little money left to me by my good husband. I hope she may die in that belief, so that I may retain at least one person's respect.
"All this time I had watched the fortunes of the two children. The false Sir Gregory had grown up to be a wicked young man, fast and dissolute, the true Sir Gregory, passing under the name of Edward Hersham, had become a journalist, and was reported steady and clever. Dr. Binjoy had left Damington, and was living at Taxton-on-Thames with Louis, the son of Michael Fellenger. Then my niece Emma came to London to enter a dressmaker's establishment. She found out the truth about my life, and told her sister. I asked them to keep the knowledge from their mother.
"Binjoy also found out where and how I was living. He used to come up to town and stay at Dr. Turnor's or with me as Dr. Renshaw, hoping by a feigned name to hide the iniquitous life he led while in town. He wanted to oust my son and get Sir Louis to hold the Fellenger estates. I refused to let him do this, and threatened to produce the real heir should he attempt to do so. Young Vaud used to come to my hotel. He saw Emma and fell in love with her. I was glad of this, as I knew that the young fellow was good and true, much better than my wretched son, for whom I had sinned. Vaud became engaged to Emma. He went to Taxton-on-Thames and saw my sister; she gave her consent to the match. All was going well, when Emma, who had become acquainted with my son, the false Sir Gregory, went off with him to Paris. He married her and neglected her. She destroyed herself, as was confessed to me by the valet Robert, a dog of a creature.
"I was distracted when I learned all this. I went to my sister and I told her that the false Sir Gregory was my son. I returned to town to find that young Vaud was seriously ill. Afterwards he was sent on a sea voyage, and he went over to Paris when he got back to rescue Emma from my miserable son. She was dead, and he returned to see if he could take vengeance on her murderer. He told me that he would kill Sir Gregory, but I thought that it was an idle threat. Afterwards I saw nothing more of him for some time. My sister asked for the address of Sir Gregory, as she wanted a photograph of Emma which had been taken at Taxton-on-Thames.
"When I went to Gregory's rooms in Half-Moon Street to tell him the truth, I saw the photograph. I wrote on it the date of the birth and death of his victim. I told him about the tattooed cross, and how I could prove that he was not the real Sir Gregory, because he had not that mark on his arm. He did not believe me, and turned me out of his rooms, me--his mother. At that moment I hated him for his likeness to his father who had wronged me. But I could not harm him. I went to Taxton-on-Thames; I said nothing. I wrote on an envelope the address of Sir Gregory, and gave it to my sister, so that she could write to him for the photograph, on the back of which I had written. All this took place before the murder.
"Then Gregory came to my hotel on the evening of the twenty-first of June. I did not see him, but I saw Vaud, who entered afterwards, disguised as a black man. I recognised him at once, and asked him why he was dressed up like the servant of Binjoy. He said it was to play a trick on the doctor, who was in the inner room waiting to see him. I believed him, although I thought his behaviour strange. But I know that he had not been quite right in his head since his illness, so that I thought his dressing-up was a freak, and let him pass into the inner room, where I presumed he was about to see Binjoy. I went back to my own room, and never dreamt that the supposed doctor was my son in disguise. Had I known I would not have left the half-crazed Vaud go into him, knowing how he hated my son as the destroyer of Emma.
"I know nothing more. I saw Binjoy later on. I asked him if he had seen Vaud; he said no, that he had just come to the hotel. I went into the inner room and found my son dead. I did not know how he died till Binjoy told me about the blood-poisoning. Then I sent for the police, and Mr. Fanks arrived. I saw the grains of gunpowder. I thought they were the evidence of some drug which had destroyed my son. I got rid of them by pulling off the tablecloth. I did not tell the truth or speak out, because I was afraid of being inculpated in the crime. My character was so bad that I knew the police would have no mercy if they thought I was mixed up in the murder. I did not want to disgrace my sister, or let her know my real life, my feigned name. I afterwards went down to Mere Hall and saw Binjoy. I said I would put the rightful heir in his own place, and oust Louis. Binjoy said if I did he would tell my story, and that with his evidence I would be accused of the murder. I therefore held my tongue; I could not bring back my son to life. He had treated me badly, and I did not want to get Vaud into trouble, as I knew that he was mad with grief and rage, and was not responsible for his actions. On the whole I thought it best to hold my tongue, and for the above reasons I did so.
"I have now spoken because Edward Hersham, the rightful heir, is accused of the crime. He has suffered enough injustice, and I do not wish to see him hanged. Binjoy can tell his own story of how he came to the hotel on that night and met with Mr. Fanks. Vaud can confess if he will as to how he plotted and carried out the crime. For myself, I have said all I have to say. What is set down here is the truth. I am deeply sorry for my evil ways, but I am paying for my follies with my life; all I ask for is forgiveness and forgetfulness. I have sinned, I am punished. All good Christians pray for the soul of a wicked but deeply wronged woman.
(Signed), Madaline Bryant (better known as Louisa Boazoph)."