35 chapters
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35 chapters
Chapter One.
Chapter One.
Let me gaze down the vista of the tristful past. Ah! there are things that cannot be uttered; there are scenes that still entrance me, and incidents so unexpected and terrible that they cause me even now to hold my breath in horror. The prologue of this extraordinary drama of London life was enacted three years ago; its astounding dénouement occurred quite recently. During those three weary, anxious years the days have glided on as they glide even with those who suffer most, but alas! I have the
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Chapter Two.
Chapter Two.
It had seemed years full of sad and tender memories since we had parted, yet in ecstasy I told myself that in a few moments she would be again at my side, and from her eyes I might, as before, drink of the cup of love to the verge of intoxication. A light footstep sounded on the gravel, and peering into the darkness I could just distinguish the form of a man. As he advanced I saw he was tall, well-built, and muscular, nearly forty years of age, with a slight black moustache and closely cropped h
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Chapter Three.
Chapter Three.
No, I could not realise that she had departed beyond recall. In mad desperation I kissed her brow in an attempt to revivify her. At that moment her sweet voice seemed raised within me, but it was a voice of remembrance that brought hot tears to my eyes. A second later I sprang up, startled by a loud knocking at the door of the room. The unknown onlookers, breathless and silent, exchanged glances of abject terror. “Hark!” I cried. “What’s that?” “Hush!” they commanded fiercely. For a few seconds
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Chapter Four.
Chapter Four.
“Neither. It isn’t a book; it’s a woman!” “A woman?” I inquired, puzzled. “I’m engaged to be married, old fellow.” “To Dora Stretton?” “To Dora Stretton, the most adorable girl in the world.” I sighed; not because I regretted his choice. Far from it. Truth to tell, I envied him his happiness. “With all my heart I congratulate you, Jack,” I cried next second, springing up and grasping his hand. “I wish you every prosperity. I have known Dora ever since a child, and although she may move in a smar
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Chapter Five.
Chapter Five.
“Jack, lad,” smiled as he made polite reply, but did not seem to greatly admire this style of greeting, albeit the soldier-novelist knew the cotton-king intimately. Truly, old Thackwell was an incongruity in Society. Lady Stretton smiled pleasantly, and bowed to us as we pushed our way forward among the crowd, and we were not long in discovering the Honourable Dora, Jack’s adored, comfortably ensconced in a cosy-corner, chatting with three men we knew. “Halloa, Ridgeway!” cried one, a club acqua
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.
“Which means a loveless union with an elderly husband, and no happiness within her own home—eh?” She looked at me inquiringly, and her lips quivered slightly. “You are cruel, Stuart,” she answered seriously. “You mean that I am an illustration of the victim of a loveless marriage.” I nodded. Then I said: “We are such old acquaintances, Mabel, that I feel myself permitted to speak candidly. I have watched you for a long time, and I know that you do not, you cannot love Fyneshade; you are unhappil
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter Seven.
“What’s the matter, old chap? Who’s the beauty?” His flippant words annoyed me. “A friend,” I snapped. “Wait for me. I’m going in to buy it.” “On the stage, I suppose?” he hazarded. “Awfully good-looking, whoever she is.” “No, she’s not on the stage,” I answered brusquely, leaving him and entering the shop. At my request the frame was brought out of the window, and in response to my inquiries regarding it the manager referred to his books, an operation which occupied considerable time. Meanwhile
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight.
“Which you will disregard, eh? Have you seen Dora to-day?” “No. I’ve been waiting at home all day expecting a note, but none has arrived,” he said disappointedly; adding, “Yet, after all, there is no disguising the fact, old chap, that I really haven’t enough money to marry a girl like Dora, and perhaps the sooner I recognise the truth and give up all hope of marriage, the better for us both.” “No, no. Don’t take such a gloomy view, Jack,” I said sympathetically. “Dora loves you, doesn’t she?” “
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine.
His coat and vest were disarranged, as if the murderer had hurriedly searched his victim’s pockets, and on the mat outside the bedroom door lay the shining weapon. I recognised the army revolver as Jack’s. Horrified, I took up the lamp again and stood gazing into the white drawn face of the mysterious friend of the Lady Fyneshade, utterly at a loss how to act. My first impulse was to raise an alarm, but I saw that such a course must imperil my friend. I could not realise the terrible truth, yet
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter Ten.
“Thanks,” I said. “Memories of our many runs are distinctly pleasant, so I hope we may be companions again.” “Of course. Why, the papers always speak of you as one of the familiar figures in the field,” she said. “The hounds are out three days a week now, and foxes are awfully plentiful about Rockingham Forest and away beyond Apethorpe.” “Let’s hope we shall obtain a few brushes,” I said, and then our conversation was mainly upon past recollections of rapid runs, of the artfulness displayed by v
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Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven.
I dashed forward into the little book-lined den. It presented the same appearance as when I had left it. Nothing had been disturbed. Only the body had been removed, and all trace of the tragedy obliterated. I bent to examine more closely the spot where the victim had fallen, when suddenly the sound of someone moving appalled me. There was a stealthy footstep in the hall. Instantly I blew out the candle. But too late! I had been discovered. In the impenetrable darkness the footsteps approached wi
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Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Twelve.
I put it down, scrutinised the room carefully, looked in the grate, but saw nothing, then taking up a paper, went out, wishing Mrs Horton “good-day.” Punctually at the hour appointed, Saunders ushered Dora into my room. She was elegantly dressed in a smart tailor-made gown of dove-grey cloth with a large black hat with feathers, and wore a flimsy veil that rather enhanced than concealed her beauty. “I feel I’m becoming awfully reckless in making this visit,” she commenced with a laugh when she h
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Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen.
“Well,” I exclaimed at length, “have you heard from him?” “Yes,” she answered rather gloomily. “Only three lines. I have brought it in my pocket so that you may see,” and producing a crumpled envelope, she handed it to me. Striking a vesta I opened the note and read the few words it contained, written hurriedly in pencil; the message ran: “I cannot return yet, but tell no one you have heard from me. I still love you, darling, better than my life. Jack.” Then I looked at the postmark, and found i
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Chapter Fourteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
“So you entertain a suspicion that Gilbert Sternroyd has been murdered—eh?” he said, with a low laugh, not deigning to remark upon the uncomplimentary terms in which she had spoken. “Surely a young man may—er—disappear for a week or so, without any great harm coming to him?” “Mine is not a mere suspicion,” she declared quickly. “I am absolutely certain he has met with foul play.” “Why?” “Because three days before his disappearance he told me in confidence that an enemy, whom he would not name, h
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Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fifteen.
Sinking back in her chair she sat pale and silent, gazing fixedly into the dying fire. “You will remember,” I continued, “that you introduced me to young Sternroyd, the man who is missing—the man who has been murdered.” “Murdered? How do you know?” she snapped. I saw I had nearly betrayed my knowledge, but quickly correcting myself I said: “Murdered, according to your belief. Well, it strikes me as curious that you should take such an intensely keen interest in the missing man; that you have tho
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Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Sixteen.
“I received your telegram, old fellow,” he said, turning to me after he had greeted the woman he loved. “How did you ascertain I was in Turin?” I laughed, but vouchsafed no satisfactory reply, and as we all three walked towards Wadenhoe the conversation grew animated. Jack, suppressing the truth that he had feared arrest, made it appear to Dora that he had been sent abroad on a secret mission and had been compelled to move rapidly from place to place. At breakfast he related how he had received
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Chapter Seventeen.
Chapter Seventeen.
Jack gave vent to a dry, hollow laugh, saying: “It is certainly a strange affair altogether, but surely this is not news to you. I heard of Sternroyd’s disappearance weeks ago.” “You were perhaps the first person aware of it—eh?” observed Markwick caustically. “By that remark you insinuate that I possess knowledge which I have not disclosed,” Jack answered brusquely. “Both the Countess and yourself have perfect liberty to form your own conclusions, and they would be amusing were it not for the g
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Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Eighteen.
“Of what nature?” I asked. “Fyneshade has left me!” she answered suddenly, in a strange half-whisper. “Left you!” I cried. “Why, whatever do you mean?” “I mean that I have acted foolishly, and that he has left this house with a declaration upon his lips that while I inhabit it he will never again cross its threshold. To-day, I have had a letter from his solicitors suggesting that I should have an interview with them for the purpose of coming to some financial arrangement. He offers me Fyneshade
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Chapter Nineteen.
Chapter Nineteen.
“I will assist you in any way I can, but I will not swear that I have not seen that man,” I replied. “Ah! you are prejudiced,” she said with a deep sigh. Then in a meaning tone she added, “If you knew the secret that I am ready to divulge in exchange for your silence, you might perhaps have cause for prejudice.” She uttered these words, I knew, for the sole purpose of intensifying my curiosity. It was a woman’s wile. Fortunately, however, I remained firm, and answered a trifle indifferently perh
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Chapter Twenty.
Chapter Twenty.
“Then she gave no intimation whatever of the nature of her business?” “Not the slightest, sir. I think she’s Irish, for she spoke with a slight accent.” “You say she tore up her note. Where are the pieces?” He went to the waste-paper basket, turned over its contents, and produced a handful of fragments of a sheet of my own notepaper. These I spread upon the table, and when he had left the room I eagerly set to work placing them together. But the paper had been torn into tiny pieces and it was on
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Chapter Twenty One.
Chapter Twenty One.
“Shall you arrest both men?” “No,” he replied, laughing. “The situation is rather critical. I don’t want to arrest the first man at present, only his companion. If I arrest the latter the diamond thief will no doubt abscond. I shall therefore be compelled to wait until they have parted.” “What’s the charge against the other?” I inquired, much interested. “Jewel robbery,” he answered sharply. “He’s one of a gang who have their head-quarters in Brussels. I must keep him under observation, for he’s
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Chapter Twenty Two.
Chapter Twenty Two.
Dora, having remained three weeks at Wadenhoe, had returned to Lady Stretton at Blatherwycke, and was daily expected in town for the season; Jack had left and gone to North Wales, for the purpose of getting local colour for a new historical romance dealing with life in Wales in the sixteenth century; and, as far as I could ascertain, the Earl of Fyneshade had gone to the Continent. I had not seen Mabel for nearly a month, and had not the slightest desire to meet her, but I heard rumours that she
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Chapter Twenty Three.
Chapter Twenty Three.
She peered in, but next second drew back terrified. The scene within the room had held her spell-bound with horror, which seemed to grasp her heart as if with icy fingers. Her trembling hands tightly clenched, she prepared to enter. One long, deep breath she drew, and set her teeth in desperation; but at that moment, as with her hand she pushed back the hair from her clammy brow, her face was turned full towards the lamp. I looked, and stood stupefied. It was Dora! I sprang forward to arrest her
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Chapter Twenty Four.
Chapter Twenty Four.
But successfully concealing my suspicions and addressing Mabel, I said as pleasantly as I could: “It is not often you favour me with a visit nowadays.” “My time is unfortunately so much taken up,” she answered, with a smile. “But I wanted to see you very particularly to-day.” “What about?” I asked, seating myself on the edge of the table, my back towards her silent escort, while she in her turn sank back into her chair. “About Fyneshade,” she answered. “You remember all I told you on the afterno
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Chapter Twenty Five.
Chapter Twenty Five.
From my lips there escaped an anguished cry of amazement. The blanched features were familiar, but upon them was such a strange, wild look that I stopped short to assure myself that this strange scene was not merely imaginary. “My God!” I cried. “Dora, is it you?” Raising herself upon her elbow with a sudden movement she pushed her hair from her white brow, glared for a few moments at me with an unnatural fire in her eyes, then, without replying to my question, gave vent to a long, loud, discord
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Chapter Twenty Six.
Chapter Twenty Six.
“The curious part of the affair is that he should, after his recent extraordinary show of bravado in returning to England, suddenly become suspicious just at the moment when we meant to take him,” he said, after we had been discussing the matter. “I suppose you have no further suggestions to offer as to any likelihood of his whereabouts?” “None. I should not expect him to try and escape abroad again after his last futile attempt to elude you.” “No. The ports are watched, and he might as well wal
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Chapter Twenty Seven.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
“I have certain sources of information that are secret,” she laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “But you suspect him of the crime,” I said. “Why, if you know his whereabouts, have you not caused his arrest?” “Like yourself, I have certain reasons,” she answered carelessly, readjusting one of the buttons of her glove. “And your reason is that you fear exposure if he were placed in a criminal’s dock—eh?” She winced visibly as my abrupt words fell upon her. “You are generous to everyone except mysel
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Chapter Twenty Eight.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
“I know,” he said, smiling. “From diplomatic motives I was compelled; nevertheless, no blame attaches to me, I assure you. This I shall prove to you before long, I hope.” “Why not now?” I urged eagerly. “Why not tell me what you know of Sybil? That you were intimately acquainted with her is certain; and if you wish to assure me of your honesty of purpose, there can be no better way of doing so than explaining who and what she was.” “Ah! unfortunately I am unable, at least for the present,” he sa
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Chapter Twenty Nine.
Chapter Twenty Nine.
“Who caused this?” I inquired. “You have been struck from behind!” “Yes, by an enemy. But ask me nothing, ask me nothing,” she groaned. “I—cannot think—I cannot talk. The place goes round—round.” The neat maid entered with her young mistress’s hat at that moment, but seeing her mistress lying back in the chair pale and motionless, the girl halted on the threshold, scared. “Send a messenger at once for Dr Fothergill,” I commanded. “Miss Dora has been taken ill again,” and while she flew to execut
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Chapter Thirty.
Chapter Thirty.
“What you promised. One thousand pounds. Surely it is not a great price.” “You shall have it to-morrow—I’ll send it to you from Paris.” “Ah! no, m’sieur, you do not evade me like that! You are playing a deep game, but you omitted me from your reckoning. The ticket you bought this morning was not for Paris, but for New York via Havre.” “How—how do you know my intentions?” Markwick demanded, starting. “You confounded skunk, you’ve been spying upon me again!” But the little Frenchman only grinned,
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Chapter Thirty One.
Chapter Thirty One.
I had held her cold hand and kissed her icy lips. Yet here she stood before me in the flesh, grave-eyed, dove-robed, and something wan and pale, an inner beauty shining from her face. At last my tongue’s strings became loosened. I stammered her name. For answer she uttered in a well-remembered voice, one word: “Stuart!” Next instant with a shriek of joy she was locked in my embrace, and my eager lips pressed passionately her dimples, those nests for kisses. In those joyful, dreamy moments we lef
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Chapter Thirty Two.
Chapter Thirty Two.
“The man who shot Gilbert Sternroyd,” she said in a hard, firm voice, “the man who drew a revolver secretly from his pocket and fired full upon him as he stepped from the room, was my stepfather! I gripped his arm, but too late. Gilbert fell, and the coward fled.” “His name?” I demanded. “He is known to you,” she replied, slowly twisting her handkerchief between her fingers, and with a manner of subdued, fierce vengefulness she laughed a little hard laugh; but it was more significant of inward a
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Chapter Thirty Three.
Chapter Thirty Three.
“And what did you tell him, Stebbings?” cried Lady Stretton, growing crimson with excitement. “I told him your ladyship was engaged with Captain Bethune, Mr Ridgeway and a French gentleman,” the flunkey answered, astonished at the sensation his announcement had produced. “Well, what then?” “He glanced at Monsieur’s card lying in the hall, and then left hurriedly, first asking me whether a strange, fair-haired young lady had accompanied Mr Ridgeway. I told him that she had, and he then said I was
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Chapter Thirty Four.
Chapter Thirty Four.
Almost before the door had closed a rustling of silk reached our ears, and when it opened again Mabel stood before us. Her face was deathly pale; around her eyes, swollen as if by tears, were dark rings that told only too plainly the distressing anxiety of that breathless day. “You?” she gasped, steadying herself by clutching at the handle of the door, and gazing fixedly at Sybil. Then, turning her haggard eyes upon Grindlay, she said half reproachfully: “You have come for him!” The Inspector, s
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Chapter Thirty Five.
Chapter Thirty Five.
Sometimes when day is dying the fresh breeze rises from the river and a soft light falls from the sky, the open valley stretching before our windows expands peaceful and transparent like a dark, shoreless ocean. It is in those idle, restful moments of adoration, when earth and sky are fathomless, that the pure sweet voice of my well-beloved, the voice that recalled me to the joys of life, raises a recollection within me, a remembrance that ofttimes brings tears to my eyes—the remembrance of the
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