36 chapters
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36 chapters
Chapter One.
Chapter One.
“Come, have another hand, Burgoyne.” “I’ll have my revenge to-morrow, old fellow,” I replied. “Why not to-night?” “It’s past two, and I’ve a long walk home, remember.” “Very well; as you wish.” My friend, Robert Nugent, a journalist, was young man, tall and dark, twenty-seven at the outside, with a pleasant, smiling face. His wavy hair, worn rather long, and negligence of attire gave him a dash of the genial good-for-nothing. It was in the card-room of that Bohemian—but, alas, now defunct—instit
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Chapter Two.
Chapter Two.
Twice the constable tugged at the bell in his efforts to awaken the inmates of the house, but all was still, save for the bark of a distant dog. Although we both strained our ears, no sounds of life were apparent within. “Shall I go round to the station for help? I can find it if you will direct me,” I said to the man. “No; you stay ’ere. There’s no necessity,” replied he gruffly. “I’ll soon call my mates,” and applying his whistle to his lips, he blew a series of shrill calls, which were immedi
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Chapter Three.
Chapter Three.
“Yes. I shouted, but nobody came to my assistance,” I replied, for I had not failed to notice the suspicion with which he regarded me. The inspector’s brows contracted slightly as he took a slate from his desk, saying, “Give me his description as accurately as possible, please.” I did so, and he wrote at my dictation. As soon as he had finished, he handed the slate to a sergeant, who at once went to the row of telegraph instruments and transmitted the description of the murderer to all the stati
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Chapter Four.
Chapter Four.
The oath having been administered to the witness, a man named Stevenson, he proceeded to give his evidence, from which it appeared that he was an agent carrying on business in Gower Street. A few months previous he was entrusted with the house in Bedford Place to let furnished, the family having gone abroad. A month ago the deceased called upon him, and after viewing the premises, consented to take them, paying six months’ rent in advance, and giving her name as Mrs Inglewood. She was undoubtedl
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Chapter Five.
Chapter Five.
“To go abroad; and I want you to accompany me.” “I should be only too pleased, providing I could get away, but I have a great deal of work on hand which I must finish,” replied Nugent. “Do come, and take the rest with you. Fresh surroundings will incite new inspirations, and you can combine business with pleasure. Can you be ready by next Saturday?” “Well, yes, I think so; but where do you intend going?” “Don’t know, and don’t care a straw, as long as I get a change. We’ll run over to Paris firs
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.
She spoke English with a pleasant accent, and was conversing with Bob and myself, to the apparent annoyance of the old gentleman, who could not understand a word. She was relating her impressions of one of the galleries she had visited that day, and displayed such a wide knowledge of pictures as to astonish Nugent, himself the art-critic of the Evening Comet . We both had become friendly with her, for, besides meeting daily at the hotel, we had several times run across one another at those place
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter Seven.
“Then what is this obstacle to our happiness?” “No! no!” she cried, covering her face with her hands. “Request no explanation, for, I—I cannot give it. It would be fatal.” “But why?” I asked, for it was a cruel and bitter disappointment. All my hopes had been shattered in those brief moments. “From the day we first met I have known we loved one another,” she said slowly, “yet it would have been better had we never become acquainted, since it causes pain to both.” “But, surely, if you love me, Ve
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight.
The evening of the second day I met Nugent at the Club. He expressed the greatest surprise at meeting me, yet I did not inform him of the journey I had undertaken, but led him to believe that my life at Genoa had become unbearable after he had left, and that on the following day I contemplated returning to Paris for a few weeks. We dined together and afterwards went to the Alhambra, but only once did he refer to Vera. It was after the ballet, when we were taking cigarettes and coffee. “By the wa
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine.
“M’sieur must be aware that a gentleman secured his rooms a week ago?” “No, I did not know that arrangements had been made for my reception,” I said. “Will m’sieur have the kindness to sign the register before ascending?” he said, politely handing me a book and pen. Those who have not travelled in the dominions of the Czar know nothing of the strict police regulations, the many formalities the foreigner has to undergo, and the questions he must answer before he is allowed to take up even a tempo
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter Ten.
I made a mental note that mine host was not telling the truth, for his agitation was plainly observable; and, while a number of police were being marched across the square, he quickly withdrew his face from the window, as if half-fearful lest he should be observed. He left the room for a few moments, afterwards returning with a large bowl of crimson flowers, which he placed upon a small table close to the window, remarking: “These will make your room brighter, m’sieur. I, myself, am very fond of
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Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven.
I must have fainted. Slowly I struggled back to consciousness, only to find myself stretched at full length upon a heap of mouldy straw, with a black, impenetrable darkness around me. The place was cold and damp, and as soon as I was able I rose and commenced to feel the dimensions of my strange apartment. It was not large, I found, but its four bare stone walls, through which water oozed in places, the large iron ring fixed into the masonry, and the strong iron-bound door, quickly apprised me o
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Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Twelve.
“And is this the commencement of my torture?” I asked, glancing round the glistening walls, that looked black and unwholesome in the flickering lamplight. “You may call it so, if you like,” he replied. “Many prisoners would no doubt prefer the death sentence being passed upon them—but that the law now forbids.” “Shall I never leave this horrible place?” I asked. “Shall I never again see the blessed light of day?” “Yes,” he muttered, ominously, “you will leave here—some day—never to return.” I sa
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Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen.
However, when I had completed my investigation of the inexplicable emblem which had so long occupied my thoughts, I commenced trying to decipher the letters above. At first I could make nothing out of them, but by passing my hand carelessly along I ascertained that they were in the Russian character. Evidently they were initials. Fortunately, while at college I had gained a knowledge of the Russian alphabet, and though it was rather imperfect, I was prompted to make an attempt to discover the eq
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Chapter Fourteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
We must have walked six hours, for as the day dawned, cloudy and grey, we saw in the distance the wooden houses of Jjora, and half an hour later were drawn up in a line in the open space before the little church. Here our fetters were removed; but in the meantime the news had spread through the village that a convict convoy was on the march, and the inhabitants, taking compassion upon us, crowded round with steaming tureens of tschi , piles of new bread, and jugs of vodki . They were not allowed
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Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fifteen.
How the deed could have been committed without any sounds having been heard by those who lived near was regarded as a mystery by all who knew the neighbourhood, and, of course, there were the usual wild rumours afloat as to the probable identity of the murdered woman. In a leading article, the journal said: “It seems pretty certain that this last atrocity must be ranked with the others. Committed with the same startling rapidity, with the same disheartening absence of traceable clues, this lates
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Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Sixteen.
At that moment Bob noticed her, and nodding towards her, whispered, “By Jove! old fellow, who’d have thought of meeting the fair Russian? The world isn’t so large, after all. Shall you go up and speak?” I glanced upwards in hesitation. She was leaning from the box, the diamonds in her hair flashing under the gaslight, and she beckoned anxiously. This decided me, and I went in search of her, with a feeling—half of the old love, and half of a newly-born distrust. I was not long in finding her box,
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Chapter Seventeen.
Chapter Seventeen.
She paused, and toyed with her rings. She was waiting for me to answer. “Yes,” I said; “I am listening.” She looked up hastily; my voice was not encouraging. “It was imperative Frank, that you should be sent to Petersburg—and—it was for your own sake—” “For my sake!” I exclaimed. “Yes, Frank,” she replied; “and it was only for that and for your future happiness and our—” she paused, while a vivid blush mantled her handsome features. “Our what?” I demanded, almost rudely. “I must not say, dearest
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Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Eighteen.
Such was the home which, owing to a quarrel with my father, I had left seven years before to battle with the world and earn my living by dint of sheer hard work; the home to which I returned, my bride upon my arm, wealthy, happy, with a bright future of bliss unalloyed before me. Our welcome, too, was a very hearty one, possibly because from a child I had been popular with the servants and tenants, and since coming into possession of the place I had not stinted them. It was scarcely surprising t
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Chapter Nineteen.
Chapter Nineteen.
But that time had now arrived, and though I confess I was beside myself with grief to find the woman I had loved so fondly, guilty of such scheming and such treachery, I was, nevertheless, pleased to be in possession of the truth. Now I was aware of the worst, and should know how to act. Presently I turned and passed through the French window into my study. It was useless retiring, for I could not sleep with such thoughts gnawing at my heart, so I flung myself into my writing-chair and thought.
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Chapter Twenty.
Chapter Twenty.
“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 mor
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Chapter Twenty One.
Chapter Twenty One.
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 we
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Chapter Twenty Two.
Chapter Twenty Two.
“What!” I exclaimed, “you die to-night?” “Yes,” he replied, in the same cool and determined tone. “You seem incredulous, but I am sure. Look!” He put his hand to the back of his head and withdrew it, holding it before my eyes. “Blood! Good heavens?” I ejaculated, as again the light revealed his thin grimy fingers. “True, and I’ve not long to live—all the more reason, is it not, that I should make haste? Will you come to my home, now ?” “At once. But let us drive to a doctor and see about your he
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Chapter Twenty Three.
Chapter Twenty Three.
“Well,” I replied endeavouring to smile, but scarcely succeeding, “it is all owing to a few hasty words. Husbands and wives will have little differences sometimes, you know.” He laughed lightly, and regarding me critically for a moment, said,— “Ah! I see. A lover’s quarrel, eh? Why don’t you return to Elveham and end all this unpleasantness? It would be far better.” I felt his advice was well-meant, and from the bottom of my heart I thanked him, yet how could I act upon it? Three long anxious we
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Chapter Twenty Four.
Chapter Twenty Four.
“Why, to speak plainly, if you have married Vera, and love her, you should not carry another woman’s photograph. You should not leave your wife at Elveham. You know what I mean, well enough.” A light dawned upon me. Bob thought the picture was that of some courtesan! “Confound it all, old fellow, you jump to conclusions too readily,” I replied, with justifiable warmth. “Well, what does it mean, then?” he asked, adding, “I don’t wish to pry into your secrets, but you’ll excuse me endeavouring, ev
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Chapter Twenty Five.
Chapter Twenty Five.
“By the way, now I think of it; where are you ‘hanging out’?” He burst into a loud laugh as he asked,— “Is it possible you don’t know?” “’Pon my honour, it never occurred to me to inquire till this moment. Where are you staying?” “Number 171,” he answered, still laughing. “Number 171 where—why don’t you speak plainly, and not keep a fellow waiting when he wants to get to his hotel to keep an appointment?” “What! another engagement!—with the lady whose photograph you were passing to the fellows a
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Chapter Twenty Six.
Chapter Twenty Six.
“Stand up straight, I want to take your measure,” the constable said, and as I obeyed, he exclaimed, “Five-foot-nine.” “What’s your name?” asked the officer, looking towards me. I hesitated. “Give us your right one, now; or it may go against you.” Why need I? Was it not a disgrace to be arrested? For Vera’s sake I felt I must keep the matter secret. “Harold Dobson,” I replied, uttering the first name that occurred to me. “How old are you?” “Twenty-nine.” The inspector filled in the charge-sheet.
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Chapter Twenty Seven.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Three weeks had nearly elapsed since my arrest, and Scotland Yard, so far from being idle, had succeeded in working up evidence and charging me with a horrible murder, for which I had been committed to take my trial by the magistrate at Bow Street. Of Vera I had seen nothing. Both Bob and Demetrius had visited me whilst under remand and endeavoured to cheer me, although both admitted they had been served with subpoenas by the prosecution, but of the nature of the evidence they wished them to giv
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Chapter Twenty Eight.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
The frightful suspicion—could Vera be concerned in it—entered my soul. The doubt was too awful to be entertained; yet she had not communicated with me since my arrest. “In the same drawer,” continued the detective fumbling among some papers he held in his hand, “I found this telegram. It is dated on the day of the murder in Bloomsbury, and addressed to the deceased. It reads:—‘Handed in at Hull and received at the West Central district office. Shall be with you about midnight. Be at home.’ It is
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Chapter Twenty Nine.
Chapter Twenty Nine.
“No; at that time I was unaware of the murder.” “When did you again see him?” “Not until a few days ago, when I recognised his portrait in a newspaper.” A long cross-examination resulted in the witness firmly adhering to his story, and explaining that as he had been on a long voyage he knew nothing of the occurrence until many months afterwards. Demetrius, with evident unwillingness, entered the box. His story was brief, yet damaging. When he had concluded, Mr Roland, adjusting his eye-glasses,
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Chapter Thirty.
Chapter Thirty.
“But, Mr Roland, this is a most extraordinary case,” interposed the judge. “You speak of a person who knows the secret and refuses to give evidence. If this is so, this person is party to the crime. To whom do you refer?” Counsel held a brief consultation with his junior, then rose again. The Court was all expectancy. “I refer, m’lord, to no less a person than the prisoner’s wife!” The reply caused a sensation. Vera knew the secret! I was not wrong. “Ah, that is unfortunate,” exclaimed the judge
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Chapter Thirty One.
Chapter Thirty One.
“I have only one question, m’lord,” exclaimed counsel for the prosecution, rising. Turning to the witness, he asked: “When was the first occasion upon which you saw the prisoner?” “Half-an-hour ago.” “And you positively swear you never saw him before to-day?” “I do.” “Witness,” said the judge, “you will give the police a detailed description of the man you saw commit the murder. That will do.” Mr Roland and Vera were in earnest conversation. He appeared to be dubious about some point upon which
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Chapter Thirty Two.
Chapter Thirty Two.
All eyes were turned upon me during those awful moments. Suddenly there was a movement, and the jury Slowly filed into Court. A deathlike stillness ensued as the clerk rose and asked the foreman,— “Have you agreed upon your verdict?” “We have.” “Do you find the prisoner, Frank Burgoyne, guilty of having murdered Ethel Inglewood, or not guilty?” “Not guilty!” An outburst of applause greeted this announcement; then the judge ordered my discharge, and I walked from the dock a free man. Vera met me,
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Chapter Thirty Three.
Chapter Thirty Three.
“Why did you not tell me the truth long ago; then this degrading trial would have been avoided,” I said, bitterly. “Because I could not, until this afternoon.” “Not when my life was at stake?” She shook her head seriously, replying, “No, it was impossible.” Was I still being duped? Those were the only words that beat a constant and painful tattoo in my brain. “Tell me,” I said, laying my hand upon her shoulder, “tell me the reason why you have kept this secret of yours till now?” “Hark!” she sai
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Chapter Thirty Four.
Chapter Thirty Four.
“Yes,” I replied. “But you do not know all. You remember finding the seal in your cell?” “Ah—the seal?” I cried, excitedly, for the mention of it brought back terrible memories. “What was its meaning?” I demanded. “By the merest accident you directed my attention to the hieroglyphics on the wall, and the discovery threw a light upon a phase of the mystery that had hitherto been unintelligible. That cell, I found, was the same in which my father was confined before his exile, and it was he who cu
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Chapter Thirty Five.
Chapter Thirty Five.
“Hands off, you devil!” he cried fiercely, shaking himself free. “Listen, first, to what I have to say!” “Now, it’s useless to struggle,” Boris declared firmly. “I shall detain you here and send for the police.” “No you won’t. Curse you! They are following me now. They saw me enter the hotel. Hark! they’re on the stairs. But I have something—something to say.” There was a sly, crafty look in his distended eyes. “Well; what is it?” I asked, at the same time glancing at Vera, and noting that her d
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Chapter Thirty Six.
Chapter Thirty Six.
“Frank,” she exclaimed suddenly, as she placed her hand upon my shoulder tenderly, looking into my eyes, “Boris has yet something to tell you. Ah! here they come; you must hear it now.” My two guests had emerged from the dining-room and were strolling leisurely towards us in full enjoyment of their goddess Nicotine. My wife called them, and they came and seated themselves beside us. “Now, Boris,” she said, “we have all met, and you can explain to Frank that complication you did not acquaint him
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