Kitabı oku: «Guilty Bonds», sayfa 8
Chapter Twenty
A Mystery Still
I rose with a resolute determination that it should be our last interview.
“Why, Frank,” she exclaimed, with well-feigned surprise, as she advanced, “you haven’t been to bed, and – why, what’s the matter, dear?” she added, noticing the expression of anger upon my countenance.
“You ought to know well enough,” I replied sternly.
“How should I know?” she asked. “Why, the gas is still burning! Surely you’ve not been writing all night!”
“It seems your headache has left you,” I exclaimed curtly, without answering her question.
“Yes, I feel better this morning.”
“In fact, the pain disappeared as soon as you left me last night, eh?”
“What! – what do you mean, Frank?” she asked anxiously, in a strange voice, a sudden pallor overspreading her statuesque face.
“You plead ignorance; it is exactly what I expected. My meaning, I should have thought was pretty clear. You are not usually so dull.”
“I do not understand you.”
Her eyes wavered, she trembled with excitement, and I could see she was bent upon concealing the truth. This increased my anger.
“It is a lie!” I said sharply. “You are trying to deceive me, but I know the truth at last.”
“Deceiving you! Why, what have I done that you should accuse me in this manner? Surely you are not yourself this morning?”
“You left me here writing last night, did you not?”
“Yes,” she answered, gloomily.
“And thought that I was safe for a few hours, and would not keep an eye upon your movements?”
“What has that to do with it?”
“Simply this. A couple of hours after you shammed illness and left me, I went out into the Dene, and there I saw – ”
“There you saw me!” she cried wildly, swaying forward, and clutching at the back of a chair for support. “Dieu! it is true, Frank; yes, true, I – I confess – I deceived you.”
“Then you admit it!” I ejaculated, hardly believing my own ears.
“Yes; yes, I do,” she moaned in tones of anguish. “But forgive me, and say no more about the occurrence. It was unfortunate, and no harm has been done.”
I tried with difficulty to restrain my passionate indignation. Such a cool request maddened me.
“Unfortunate?” I cried. “No; for me it is the reverse, for it has opened my eyes to your faithlessness. Forgive you this! The thing’s absurd!”
“I unfaithful!” she repeated, looking vacantly about her, and clasping her hands. “I never thought it could be misconstrued into that! I unfaithful! Am I not your wife?” and with heaving breast and tearful eyes she bent her head as if to avert my gaze.
“Yes; you are my wife, but she who brings dishonour upon her husband is unworthy that name,” I said, in a tone of disgust.
“I have not brought you dishonour,” she declared, drawing herself up with dignity.
“You have, I tell you! Late last night you met a strange man in the Dene, and that man is your lover!” I retorted, decisively.
“That I am to blame, Frank, I admit,” she said, dashing the tears from her eyes, “but he is not my lover. I swear you are mistaken. Nothing was further from my thoughts.”
“Oh, don’t tell me that! I know enough of the world to distinguish the meaning of such clandestine meetings,” I replied, sickened at the manner she was endeavouring to clear herself.
“There is no love between us,” she exclaimed; “but,” – and she paused.
“Then why meet him in such a secret manner?” I demanded, adding with a sneer, “perhaps you will tell me next that it was not you I saw, but a twin sister.”
She still hesitated, with her eyes cast down as if in thought.
“You can give no answer,” I continued with warmth, “because you are guilty.”
“Guilty only of meeting him,” she said, drawing a deep breath: “but I assure you there is no love between us – nay, I swear it – only a secret tie.”
“I don’t wish you to perjure yourself,” I remarked coldly. “You ‘assure me’! What utter nonsense.”
“I tell you the truth.”
“You have told me so many falsehoods that a little truth is certainly refreshing!” I replied with sarcasm.
“I cannot force you to believe me,” she continued in a low voice, still steadying herself by the chair.
“Do you think me such a confounded idiot, then, as to believe you could have business with a strange man at that hour of the night?”
“Business, nevertheless, was the object of our meeting.”
“Bah! your excuses are positively intolerable. What was the nature of this business?”
“You must not know,” she replied, hesitatingly.
Her brows contracted, and her tiny hands clenched tightly upon the chair-back, as if summoning all her courage to be firm.
“Ah! the old story. More mystery. Look here! I’ve had enough of it!” I shouted in anger. “In fact, I’ve had too much of it already, and I demand an explanation, or you and I must part!”
A shudder ran through her slim frame as I spoke, and she lost her support and almost fell. With a sudden movement she pushed back the mass of dark curls from her forehead, her bright eyes gleamed with an earnest fire as they met mine, and she said, hysterically, “You are cruel – you do not know how I suffer, for your surmise is not correct in the smallest degree. You, my husband, I love, and no one else. And you accuse me. Mon Dieu!”
My self-control was very nearly exhausted. If she had been a man I might have struck her! As it was, I was powerless, and as I looked at her my eyes must have gleamed with fury.
“Last night proved the great extent of your love for me,” I exclaimed fiercely.
All that latent fire which exists in every woman’s nature, ready to burst into flame when her self-respect is wounded, was aglow in Vera as I uttered that retort.
“I cannot see that it did. I have done absolutely nothing of which I am ashamed,” was her answer.
She spoke with a cool, reckless candour that shocked me. My thoughts were soured by disappointment.
“What!” I cried, “have you no compunction?”
“I am sorry it was my ill-luck to be seen by you, and thus cause you unnecessary pain.”
“Oh, spare me your expressions of sorrow, pray,” I said, in a hard tone. “They are out of place.”
“I had thought to keep his presence a secret,” she continued in that dead-calm voice, which was like some one speaking in a dream.
“If he were not your lover, why should you do that? Your own words prove your guilt?”
“Because I had reasons,” she replied. “Reasons!” I repeated, my thoughts at once reverting to the piece of seal I had discovered. “Strange reasons they must be, surely. What is his name?”
“It is nobody you know. You have never heard of him.”
It was upon the tip of my tongue to denounce him as the perpetrator of the crime in Bedford Place, but with difficulty I restrained myself, and, impelled by the strangeness of her manner, demanded:
“Who is he? Answer me!”
“I am very sorry, Frank, but I cannot,” she replied, her face deathly pale, and her limbs trembling with agitation.
“Then you refuse to answer?” I cried, stung to the quick by her dogged persistency.
“Yes; I must.”
Her hands clasped, her teeth firmly set, her bloodless face tear-stained and haggard, and her hair disordered, she stood rigidly beside the chair that supported her, striving by an almost superhuman effort to suppress her emotion.
“Vera,” I shouted fiercely, “it seems I’ve been fooled. Curse that man who has brought misery and destruction to us both! By heaven if – ”
“He is not to blame: it is I,” she interrupted. “You shield him at the expense of yourself. I see. Now, hear me. All my questions you have evaded; to none will you give direct answers. Enough of mysteries which you have refused to reveal ever since knowing me; therefore, we can do naught else but part.”
“What – you will leave me because of this?” she moaned, with a wild, hysterical cry. “Why don’t you go a step further – why don’t you say at once you are tired of me?” she cried, with an outburst of passion. “Say that you wish me dead.”
“That would be untrue,” I answered. “You know well I have lived only for you, Vera, and at nothing should I rejoice more than to be able to prove myself mistaken; yet, until that can be done, we must separate.”
She was grave and thoughtful for a moment, then, looking into my face, said haughtily:
“If you are determined upon this step, I am powerless to prevent it.”
“No, you are not,” I asserted.
“Why?”
“Because you might answer satisfactorily the questions I put to you just now.”
“No; no, anything but that,” she replied promptly, as with a frantic gesture she covered her face with her hands, continuing, “It – it would be far better for us to part, or the result – the result – might prove fatal.”
“What do you mean?” I demanded incredulously, as the mystery of the seal recurred to me.
“I mean that my secret must be kept, even if we part,” she gasped, with a futile endeavour to compose herself.
“This is your final decision, then?”
“Alas! it must be.”
“Very well, Vera, I wish you adieu,” I said sadly, for I was completely broken-hearted at the thought of my idol’s deceit, and the transparent subterfuges by which she had endeavoured to conceal her guilt. “We have been happy during the few months of our wedded life, but that is a thing of the past. Henceforth mine will be a dark, hopeless existence, while yours, I trust, may be as pleasant as it has hitherto been; for though you have dishonoured me, I love you too well, even now, to wish any calamity should ever befall you.”
“No, Frank, don’t leave me. I could not bear it!” she shrieked, bursting into a torrent of tears. “I have told you the truth – I have, by heaven! It is my terrible misfortune that I am unable to explain who that man was, and from the same cause it has not been possible for me to acquaint you with anything relating to my past. Wait patiently for a little, and I promise you faithfully – I swear you shall know everything.”
She was terribly in earnest, I could see; her whole future depending upon my decision that moment. It was the secret of her life I was anxious to learn beyond anything, and I asked:
“How long must I wait?”
She gazed at me for a few seconds blankly, apparently making some calculation.
“Three weeks. Wait till then before you condemn me – do, I implore of you!”
What ingenious motive could there be in thus gaining time, I asked myself. Could it be that in three weeks’ time the murderer would be safely out of the country?
This seemed more than probable.
I felt half inclined to demand an immediate explanation or carry out the alternative, when, on a moment’s reflection, I resolved not to resort to extremes without giving her an opportunity of disproving my allegations.
“Very well,” I said impatiently, at last; “the matter shall rest for the present; but this day three weeks I shall be prepared – I shall expect to hear a complete explanation. Bear that in mind.”
As I spoke the door had opened noiselessly, and Demetrius, with an expectant expression on his good-humoured face, and a cigarette in his mouth, stood upon the threshold.
Vera, who had been awaiting my reply with breathless agitation, murmured in a low, intense voice, “In three weeks you shall know all, I – promise – you,” and before I could save her she had swayed forward helplessly and fallen full length in a dead swoon.
“Ma foi!” exclaimed Demetrius; “why, what has happened?” as he rushed forward in consternation and assisted me to lift her upon the couch.
“Nothing,” I replied. “A little difference of opinion between us, that’s all;” and ringing the bell violently to summon the servants, I left the room without further utterance.
Chapter Twenty One
Storms of Fate
It will readily be imagined that it was in no amiable state of mind I left the house. Distraction was what I wanted – distraction from thoughts of the sad events which had just transpired, and which threatened to wreck all the hopes of wedded happiness I had founded upon Vera’s supposed love for me. It was a bitter experience of the vanity of human pleasures, and was one more proof of the falsity and hollowness of her whom I had loved more than life itself.
Determined to leave the Dene and rid myself of these remorseful thoughts, I jammed on my hat and rushed from the house.
While walking down the drive the postman passed me, bearing the second delivery of letters. The sight of him recalled to my mind the fact that, in the midst of the morning’s excitement, the usual batch of correspondence had escaped my notice. Turning hastily, I made for the study, where a number of letters were awaiting me.
There was only one communication which possessed for me any interest. It was from my old friend Bob Nugent, and a thrill of pleasure passed through me as I recognised the familiar scrawl – Bob was never a neat writer.
The letter was as follows: “Dear Old Frank, – I am writing in great haste, and at the usual high pressure, to give you the welcome news that Teddy Rivers has turned up after his New Zealand experiences, as fresh as paint. He hasn’t much time to spare; so if you want to have one of the old dinners at the Junior Garrick, my boy, and can tear yourself away from the little wife for a few hours, why – come soon. – Yours ever, Bob Nugent.”
“Tear yourself away from the little wife!” I repeated to myself with a groan. Bob was quite right; Vera had truly charmed me, laying me under the spell of her beauty and the vivacity of her manner – for what! With a savage stamp of my foot I threw the letter upon the fire.
A moment’s reflection convinced me that my best course would be to run up to town and meet my friends. As a matter of fact, the opportunity was just what I needed. It would afford a little excitement to drown the weary hours, and cause the time to pass more quickly.
I decided to go.
My preparations were soon complete, and the afternoon mail saw me being rapidly conveyed to town, after having left an explanatory note for Vera, to the effect that I should in all probability be absent three weeks.
That journey I shall ever remember. The mad noisy whirl of the express train was as nothing compared with the wild tormenting dance of my thoughts as they again and again reverted to the unhappy events of the morning. At one time I blamed my precipitation; at another I bemoaned my weakness in allowing myself to be wheedled into waiting another three weeks. Should I ever live those fearful twenty-one days? Some presentiment seemed to fill my brain, and as the train rushed through the stations one after another, every moment seemed bearing me nearer and nearer to some catastrophe.
With a sense of vast satisfaction, therefore, I alighted from a cab in Adam Street, Strand, the same evening, and found myself standing outside the time-stained old building, with which so much of my past had been associated. As its well-known entrance met my gaze it appeared to be but yesterday when I left that very spot on the morning the first murder was committed in Bedford Place.
Brushing aside these memories – for they threatened to become very dismal – I walked quickly upstairs to the well-remembered smoking-room, and glanced around.
As I did this it occurred to me that I had made a great omission. I had forgotten to inform Bob by telegram that I so promptly accepted his invitation, and consequently he was not awaiting me, nor did I know a single face about me.
Evidently there was no utility in staying there, for it might be hours before my friend put in an appearance. I knew his address, but did not feel in the humour for going to hunt him up; finally I resolved to go to a hotel at once.
On regaining the street I noticed, crouching beside the iron railings, which, however, afforded him very little shelter, a haggard-looking man. His threadbare coat was buttoned tightly across his chest, and a battered silk hat, which had seen better days, was pulled down over his eyes, giving him a peculiar, almost repulsive, appearance. Under the rim of his hat a pair of sharp keen eyes glittered with a baleful yet anxious glare, and these two orbs were the most striking part of the man’s tout ensemble. Something about the fellow’s appearance caused me to regard him with attention.
He did not withdraw his glance as mine rested on him. On the contrary, he seemed to become satisfied of my identity. With earnest gesture he rose and stopped me as I was about to enter the cab.
“Now then; move on!” shouted a harsh voice, as the unknown placed his hand, lean, thin and dirty, upon the sleeve of my ulster. The figure of a constable loomed up suddenly in the flickering gaslight.
“Stay! What is it you want?” I asked, for my heart seemed to tell me he was no ordinary alms-seeker.
He was about to reply, and I could feel his hand upon my arm trembling with eagerness, when the policeman again interposed.
“He’s only a-beggin’ again, sir,” said that worthy. “I often turn him away when he’s bothering the gents – and that’s pretty nigh always,” he added, in a grumbling undertone.
“What’s the matter with him?” I inquired, noting the paleness of the poor fellow’s face. Before I could say another word his hold on my arm had relaxed, and he fell backwards, almost into the arms of the too zealous officer.
Bending beside him, I ordered some brandy to be brought, and in spite of the assurance from my astute friend that “he was not worth the trouble,” I did all I could to restore the inanimate form to consciousness.
“I’ve never seen ’im like this ’ere before, blow me!” observed the cabby, who was lending a little assistance, because, as I supposed, he thought there might be some profit attaching to the operation. My authority was not to be slighted when I was in earnest, which was the case just then.
The unfortunate man presently showed signs of reviving, having been carried into the cloak-room of the club, while I questioned the constable as to who he was and where he lived.
“As for who he is, sir, that’s more than any one knows barrin’ hisself,” and he laughed. “He lives ’ere, or has done so for the last eight or nine months and always seems to be lookin’ out for somebody wot he thinks he’ll know when he sees.”
This appeared rather enigmatical. Why had the stranger sought to detain me? A momentary thought crossed my mind – was Vera concerned in this?
With a new interest I turned to the constable.
“Has he ever stopped any one else and spoken like this?” I asked.
“Bless you, yes,” he replied. “But I never knew him so earnest as this time – hullo, old fellow, how do you feel now?”
A faint flush of colour tinged the careworn face; the stimulant had done its work. How sickening it was, I thought, to hear the affectation of friendliness in this man’s voice, now he thought that because my sympathy had been attracted towards the sufferer there was a chance of gaining a few shillings!
“It’s him – it’s him! I knew I’d find him some day,” cried the prostrate man, raising himself on his arm and pointing eagerly at me, as if awakening from some bad dream. Then, as he saw the interested faces of those who had gathered around, and noted the keen looks with which he was regarded, he scowled darkly, and struggled into a sitting posture. As he noticed me again watching him intently, he started.
“Did you want to speak to me, my poor fellow?” I inquired kindly.
“For mercy’s sake wait a few moments, sir, please. Let me get breath. Send these people away, I – I’m better now. See,” and he rose and walked unsteadily to the door, watching me all the time with a keen scrutiny which made me feel rather uncomfortable.
A moment or two later we were on the pavement outside, where the cab I had ordered still remained.
“We must hurry, or we shall be too late,” he urged. “Follow quickly, sir.”
“Wait a moment,” I said, my prudence for the moment mastering my curiosity. “What do you want with me, and where are you going to take me?” With a searching stare he faced me, but I did not flinch. There was an ominous gleam in his dark eyes scowling fiercely into mine, as he said impetuously, —
“Don’t stand here, wasting precious time in useless questions. You cannot know now what it is I want you for – if you are the right man – and Heaven grant you may be – you shall know all.”
“You are talking nonsense,” I said quietly, and with determination. “What’s at the bottom of all this? Come, tell me quickly; my time is being wasted.”
My watch, as I glanced at it in the gaslight, showed that the hour was about half-past ten, but my earnestness to find the real meaning of this mysterious adventure, coupled with my curiosity, would probably have kept me there for hours.
Soon, however, I became impatient.
My unknown questioner looked at me with a resolute smile. His features, or as much of them as could be seen beneath the shabby hat, were not unhandsome, and the smile became him well.
“You are coming with me to-night and soon,” he said, in the same cool and determined manner I had myself displayed.
This was too much. Without word or sign I sprang into the cab, and as the Jehu touched the animal with his whip, my face was determinedly turned away from my strange acquaintance.
My action was so sudden that at first he seemed disconcerted. The cab had only moved a few yards before, with a sudden bound, he gained the horse’s head.
“Leave go that ’orse!” shouted the cabman with an oath.
For a few seconds there was a scene of confusion. The man still holding the reins, and heedless of the plunging and affrighted animal, approached me. He was evidently exhausted, and could withstand the excitement no longer. His coat had burst asunder, revealing in all its raggedness the soiled shirt underneath, through the holes in which his panting chest was plainly visible.
“One word, sir,” he implored, springing with the wildness of despair upon the front of the hansom. “Just one more word, and then if you won’t come, the consequence will lie upon your own head. Do, do stop!”
Thoroughly alarmed at his vehemence, I again ordered the cabman to pull up. There must, I reflected, be something in this matter, after all.
“Will you tell me, without delay, the reason I’m stopped here; or do you wish me to give you into custody as a beggar?” I sternly asked.
There was a crowd around us. It was a rather unusual spectacle, and the passers-by gave eager attention to it.
“Very well, then, I’ll show you something that will decide you, if you will let the man drive on a little, out of this crush,” he rejoined, diving his hand into his breast-pocket.
Impatiently I told him to jump in, giving the order to drive away, anywhere. After the lapse of a few minutes I turned to the strange being by my side.
He held a piece of torn paper, but what was on it I could not then see. Putting his shaking hand upon my shoulder, and his ashen face with its wild, glaring eyes, close to my own, he hissed, with a kind of vicious pleasure.
“You think me an impostor, eh? Well, look at this, and remember what it has revealed to you before. Then say if I have stopped you without cause. Its author may yet be found!”
His face wore a smile of triumph as he held before my eyes a torn fragment of paper. With an indefinable thrill of excitement, not unmingled with alarm – for his words were ominous – I took it. So dark was it in the vehicle that I held it close to my eyes till we approached the next street-lamp. As we did so, and the light fell across the crumpled and dirty paper, my heart almost stopped beating, and my pulses, for a moment ceased.
There, in all its frightful reality, was the seal!
