The revelations amazed me. I held my breath and faced her. There was a
terrible eloquence in the silence of that room.
"Listen," exclaimed my well-beloved, her pale, desperate, but beautiful
countenance turned full towards me. "Listen, and I'll tell you
everything, just as it occurred.
"About three years ago, very soon after I parted from you on that
memorable night in Bayswater, my father and I were staying at the Hotel
Continental in Paris, and received a call from Mr Miller and Lucie. I
was of course delighted to see my old schoolfellow again, but only once
was your name mentioned--with regret--for I was already engaged to marry
Mr Blumenthal. Mr Miller asked us down to his house at Enghien, and
we went several times, generally finding there a young Chilian, Manuel
Carrera, for a great affection had sprung up between Lucie and him. The
young fellow chanced to be staying at the same hotel as ourselves in
Paris, and sometimes we returned by the same train together. At Mr
Miller's we also met Himes, in whom I must say I was much mistaken. I
believed him to be an American gentleman, but I now know that he was
what is known as a `sharp.' One night my father and I dined at the
Villa du Lac, Carrera being also invited. He left rather early, for
some reason or other, and when we went an hour or so later Lucie asked
me to deliver to him a secret message which she had forgotten--a request
that he would meet her at the Gare du Nord at eleven o'clock next
morning, as she was going shopping and would be alone.
"On arrival at the hotel just after midnight, I saw my father into his
room, and then slipped along to the farther end of the corridor and
tapped at the young man's door. There was no reply. Again I tapped,
but without response. Then, intending to leave a note for him, I turned
the handle and entered. Judge my horror when I saw him standing before
the mirror in a frenzy of despair with a revolver in his hand. I dashed
in, for I saw his intention was to commit suicide. I grasped his wrist
and tried to wrench the weapon from his grasp. For several moments we
struggled desperately, but, alas! he was the stronger, and with an
imprecation he placed the barrel of the weapon in his mouth and fired.
Ah! it was awful!
"I twisted the revolver from his hand, but, alas! too late. He fell to
the floor in a helpless heap, and I stood dazed and horrified at the
awful tragedy. A moment later I heard a movement behind me, and started
to see a stranger standing there--an Englishman. He had closed the door
behind him, and we were alone with the dead man. `I charge you with the
murder of my friend,' he said gravely. `I saw you fire. You did this
out of jealousy. You met at Nice eighteen months ago. Manuel is the
lover of the girl who lives at Enghien, and is your friend! I saw you
together yesterday in the Rue Rivoli!'
"I fell back and stared at him utterly speechless. Then I protested
that he had committed suicide, but he pointed out that I still held the
revolver. `No,' he added, `I saw you fire! I am witness that you
murdered poor Manuel, who met you on the Riviera and fell violently in
love with you.' I asked the stranger if he really meant what he
alleged, but he only smiled mysteriously and said:--`As no one seems to
have been awakened, perhaps it will save you much trouble if you place
the revolver near the body and allow the authorities to believe in your
theory of suicide. I am English, like yourself, and in our country no
gentleman betrays a woman.' `Then you withdraw this allegation?' I
asked. But he urged me to fly quickly, while there was time, and taking
the weapon he placed it on the floor close to the dead man's right hand.
Because I allowed him to do this, I committed myself, and was lost.
But at that moment I was so upset that I knew not what I did. I slipped
out of the door and down the corridor, and from that instant I never saw
the mysterious stranger again until--until about four months ago."
"And who was he?" I asked eagerly. "What was his name?"
"He proved to be Gordon-Wright alias Lieutenant Shacklock, and many
other names. He called upon me in Ireland and claimed acquaintance.
Then, judge my astonishment when, a week later, he told me that I must
marry him or he would denounce me to Lucie as the murderess of her
lover!"
"The scoundrel!" I cried. "Then he actually held both of you
enthralled?"
"Yes, Godfrey," she exclaimed, in that soft sweet voice that always
charmed me so. "It was true that I had previously met Manuel Carrera in
Nice, but he certainly was never my lover, as he alleged. But now I
have told you the truth you can easily see why I dare not speak while he
lived, for he would have brought against me a cruel charge of jealous
murder which he might easily have substantiated."
Our eyes met, and her gaze wavered.
"Why--how could he?" inquired Sammy.
"Because early next morning I found out the number of his room and most
foolishly wrote to him urging him to keep the secret that I had been in
the dead man's room. This letter, combined with his testimony, would
have been, no doubt, sufficient to condemn me. Again, the night you met
me at Studland he followed me out and found me almost the moment after
we parted. He taunted me with that letter, and we struggled for its
possession."
"I recollect!" Sammy exclaimed. "It was I who was one of the first to
enter poor Carrera's room, and I remember the revolver lay in a position
that much puzzled the police. They questioned the servants if it had
been moved. That fellow Shacklock, who was living in the hotel,
evidently stole the contents of the poor fellow's despatch-box and
handed them to Himes, who came that evening to call upon him. It is an
old trick of hotel thieves: the man who commits the theft remains in the
hotel and expresses the greatest indignation and sympathy with the
victim, while his accomplice gets safely away across the frontier with
the booty."
"And this is the actual truth!" I cried, staring at her amazed.
"The truth, Godfrey--the whole truth!" declared Ella, in a faltering
tone, her cheeks flushed with shame. "You must have mistrusted me, but
though bound to that blackguard by a secret my love for you has, I
swear, ever been unwavering. Surely you must have seen what I have
suffered," she cried. "That man who has now met with such an untimely
end wished to marry me for my position, and because--"
"Because you are beautiful, my sweetheart!" I said, holding her in my
arms and kissing her fondly. "I know. I see it all now."
"And--and you really forgive me, Godfrey?" she asked seriously.
"For what?"
"For refusing to tell you this."
"You were silent, darling, because you were that man's victim. You
feared to speak. But his own enemy has fortunately released you. The
thieves have quarrelled among themselves--and fatally. We can now
afford to watch in silence."
Our hands clasped, our lips met, and our hearts beat in unison--hearts
that were true to each other with a love that was real love.
"Lucie," I said at last, turning to the despairing girl, who now knew,
for the first time, her father's shameful secret, "there is one point
which is still a mystery. Have you any explanation to offer? At the
Villa Verde, after Nardini's flight, a young lady, said to be a friend
of yours, was found dead in his study. Who was she?"
"It was Alice Woodforde," she replied promptly. "Nardini had fallen
deeply in love with her, and knowing that revelations and downfall were
imminent, and that he would be compelled to fly, he gave her in secret
this address in London. He begged her to return to England where they
would marry, and she, still in ignorance of his true character, gave her
promise. She showed me the address he had written down, asking me if I
knew in what part of London it was, and thinking it strange I made a
mental note of it. I saw that His Excellency was playing a double game,
and suspected that he contemplated flight. In addition to this, one
evening, when her uncle the doctor was dining with my father and myself
she related, with her natural innocence, how one afternoon, when a guest
at the Villa Verde, she had entered the study unexpectedly and had
discovered His Excellency with a secret cupboard in the wainscot opened,
into which he was in the act of placing a packet of bank-notes.
"Now, Gavazzi, who had narrowly watched the situation, daily expected
His Excellency to fly from Italy. He knew that his enemies had gained
the ascendency, and that revelations to King Humbert were only a matter
of hours. Therefore the moment his master had left Rome he went out to
Tivoli and discharged all the servants at the villa, paying them all off
handsomely. On the following day, as I understand from a letter I have
found among my father's papers, he went out there on the pretext of a
necessity of obtaining certain important documents, taking Alice with
him. He entered the villa with his key, and when in the study suddenly
demanded that she should reveal the spot where the notes had been
concealed. Being loyal to Nardini, whom she had promised to marry, she
refused. They were alone in the great house, and she, in defiance of
him, declared that she would tell the man who was to be her husband. A
violent scene then ensued. He threatened her and she grew furious, when
of a sudden she fell back in a dead faint. He laughed, and awaited her
recovery, still hoping to obtain from her the secret of the Minister's
hoard. He waited until, in alarm, he saw a sudden change in her. She
grew white and rigid. She suffered from a weak heart from her birth,
and died of syncope. Poor Alice! the excitement had proved fatal!"
"But I can't understand this fellow Himes. Why is he so full of a
fierce revenge?" asked Sammy, whose manner towards Lucie was now
entirely changed. He saw that she had been the victim of a scoundrel,
just as my dear love had been.
"Well, I think I can also explain that," she said. "My father, in order
that nothing compromising might be found if the police ever searched our
apartments abroad, kept all his private papers in an old bureau at
Studland. For several days I have been going through them, and they
throw light upon many things which have hitherto been to me mysteries.
The reason of his rapid journeys hither and thither, the motives of his
friendships and the causes of his hatreds are explained.
"Last winter, while we were in Rome, Lieutenant Shacklock, as he called
himself, lived in style at the Grand, while Himes had a room at the
Quirinale. To every one they appeared as strangers to each other, and
only met at our house. They both had committed a number of clever
robberies of jewels and money, when Shacklock managed to ingratiate
himself with a wealthy American widow, a Mrs Clay Hamilton, and after
giving several little dinner-parties and escorting her here and there he
succeeded, by a clever piece of trickery, in passing over her jewel-case
full of valuable gems to Himes. The theft was quickly discovered, but
no suspicion ever rested upon him. Indeed he actually went himself to
the Questura with Mrs Clay Hamilton and reported the theft to the
police! The jewel-case was, however, already at our house when, on the
following night, the two men met.
"I was out at the theatre with Dr Gavazzi and Alice, but I can only
suppose there must have been a violent quarrel over the distribution of
the booty. At any rate, Himes declared that he would have nothing
further to do with either my father or Shacklock, and next day left Rome
for Paris. My father and Shacklock suspected that, out of spite, he
meant to expose them to Nardini or to the Rome police, therefore,
knowing with what object he had gone to Paris, Shacklock followed him
and gave certain secret information at the Prefecture. The result of
this was that Himes was arrested red-handed while committing an
audacious robbery at Asnieres, and sent to prison. He, of course,
suspected that the friends with whom he had quarrelled had given
information, yet he could not absolutely prove it. His first impulse
was to retaliate by revealing all he knew regarding his late associates,
but this was not enough for a man of his criminal instincts.
"In his heart there rankled through those long months of his confinement
a murderous revenge. He swore that he would kill the men who betrayed
him--and he has kept his vow!"
"Yes," I said. "And he evidently believed that, being on such intimate
terms with your father and yourself, I, too, was the latest recruit."
"Ah! Your escape, dear, was a most fortunate one!" declared Ella,
gazing up into my eyes with that love-look that told me volumes.
"I wonder where Himes is now?" queried Sammy. "He certainly seems
absolutely fearless in his revenge."
"What matters?" I said. "Let us remain silent. If he is captured,
well and good. If not, we at least know the truth."
"He killed my father--recollect," Lucie remarked, in a hard voice.
"And was it not through your father--whose memory we should bury from
to-day--that my poor friend and your lover, Manuel Carrera, died?" asked
Sammy gravely.
Then a silence fell between all four of us. I was looking into the
clear blue eyes of my well-beloved. All of us were preoccupied by our
own thoughts. From out the dark tragedy had at last shone the light of
truth.
After those years of grief and bitterness, of loneliness and yearning,
Ella, my dear one, had been given back to me once more. She no longer
wore the iron mask that she had borne so staunchly.
Our lips met again. She gazed into my eyes, and then she burst into
tears--tears of joy. The fetters that bound her to the man she hated
had been broken, and she stood there, sweet, pure, innocent and free--
free to be mine--mine for ever.
"My love," I said, heedless that we were not alone, "this affection of
ours is greater than death, great as eternity itself; a love that shall
leave earth with us when our souls leave our bodies and reach its
uttermost perfection in other lives, in other worlds; a love that time
cannot chill, nor any woe appal, nor any man unsever. God Himself has
united us, and none can now place us asunder."