CUTHBERT'S ENEMY
Before leaving the death-chamber, Mallow--now Lord Caranby--sealed the
confession in the presence of Yeo, and went with him into the
sitting-room. "What will you do with that?" asked the doctor,
indicating the envelope with a nod.
"I shall place it in the hand of my lawyers to be put with family
papers," replied Cuthbert. "I am sure you agree with me, Yeo, that it
is unnecessary to make the contents public. My uncle is dead."
"Even were he still alive, I should advise you to say nothing," replied
Yeo, grimly; "the woman deserved her fate, even though it was an
accident. She destroyed Caranby's life. He would have married Selina
Loach and have been a happy man but for her."
"There I think you wrong her. It is Isabella Octagon who is to blame.
She has indeed been a fatal woman to my poor uncle. But for her, he
would not have been prevented from marrying Selina and thus have fallen
into the toils of Emilia. Emilia would not have murdered Selina, and
the result would not have come out after all these years in the death
of my uncle at the hands of Bathsheba Saul."
"Who is she?"
"Maraquito. But you don't know the whole story, nor do I think there
is any need to repeat the sordid tragedy. I will put this paper away
and say nothing about it to anyone save to Jennings."
"The detective!" said Yeo, surprised and startled. "Do you think that
is wise? He may make the matter public."
"No, he won't. He has traced the coiners to their lair, and that is
enough glory for him. When he knows the truth he will stop searching
further into the case. If I hold my tongue, he may go on, and make
awkward discoveries."
"Yes, I see it is best you should tell him. But Miss Saxon?"
"She shall never know. Let her think Maraquito killed Emilia. Only
you, I and Jennings will know the truth."
"You can depend upon my silence," said Yeo, shaking Cuthbert by the
hand; "well, and what will you do now?"
"With your permission, I shall ask you to stop here and arrange about
necessary matters in connection with the laying-out of the body. I
wish to interview Mrs. Octagon this evening. To-morrow I shall see
about Caranby's remains being taken down to our family seat in Essex."
"There will be an inquest first."
"I don't mind. Maraquito is dead and nothing detrimental to the honor
of the Mallows can transpire. You need say nothing at the inquest as
to the bottle being thrown at Juliet."
"I'll do my best. But she will be questioned."
"I intend to see her this evening myself."
"What about Mrs. Octagon?"
"Oh," said the new Lord Caranby with a grim smile, "I intend to settle
Mrs. Octagon once and for all."
"Surely you don't intend to tell her of the murder."
"Certainly not. She would make the matter public at once. But her
knowledge of the real name of Emilia, and her hushing up of the murder
of her sister, will be quite enough to bring her to her knees. I don't
intend that Juliet shall have anything more to do with her mother. But
I'll say very little."
After this Cuthbert departed and took a hansom to the "Shrine of the
Muses." He arrived there at ten o'clock, and was informed by the
butler that Miss Saxon was in bed with a headache, and that Mrs.
Octagon had given orders that Mr. Mallow was not to be admitted. Basil
was out, and Mr. Octagon likewise. Cuthbert listened quietly, and then
gave the man, whom he knew well, half a sovereign. "Tell Mrs. Octagon
that Lord Caranby wishes to see her."
"Yes, sir, but I don't--"
"I am Lord Caranby. My uncle died this evening."
The butler opened his eyes. "Yes, m'lord," he said promptly, and
admitted Cuthbert into the hall. "I suppose I needn't say it is really
you, m'lord," he remarked, when the visitor was seated in the
drawing-room, "I am afraid the mistress will be angry."
"Don't trouble about that, Somes. Tell her Lord Caranby is here," and
the butler, bursting to tell the news in the servants' hall, went away
in a great hurry.
Cuthbert remained seated near the table on which stood an electric
lamp. He had the confession in his pocket, and smiled to think how
glad Mrs. Octagon would be to read it. However, he had quite enough
evidence to force her into decent behavior. He did not intend to leave
that room till he had Mrs. Octagon's free consent to the marriage and a
promise that she would go abroad for an indefinite period with her
hopeful son, Basil. In this way Cuthbert hoped to get rid of these
undesirable relatives and to start his married life in peace. "Nothing
less than exile will settle matters," he muttered.
Mrs. Octagon, in a gorgeous tea-gown, swept into the room with a frown
on her strongly-marked face. She looked rather like Maraquito, and
apparently was in a bad temper. Mallow could see that she was
surprised when she entered, as, thinking Lord Caranby was incapacitated
by the accident described by Juliet, she did not know how he came to
call at so late an hour. Moreover, Lord Caranby had never visited her
before. However, she apparently was bent on receiving him in a tragic
manner, and swept forward with the mien of a Siddons. When she came
into the room she caught sight of Cuthbert's face in the blaze of the
lamp and stopped short. "How--" she said in her deepest tone, and then
became prosaic and very angry. "What is the meaning of this, Mr.
Mallow? I hoped to see--"
"My uncle. I know you did. But he is dead."
Mrs. Octagon caught at a chair to stop herself from falling, and wiped
away a tear. "Dead!" she muttered, and dropped on to the sofa.
"He died two hours ago. I am now Lord Caranby."
"You won't grace the position," said Mrs. Octagon viciously, and then
her face became gloomy. "Dead!--Walter Mallow. Ah! I loved him so."
"You had a strange way of showing it then," said Cuthbert, calmly, and
he also took a seat.
Mrs. Octagon immediately rose. "I forbid you to sit down in my house,
Lord Caranby. We are strangers."
"Oh, no, we aren't, Mrs. Octagon. I came here to arrange matters."
"What matters?" she asked disdainfully, and apparently certain he had
nothing against her.
"Matters connected with my marriage with Juliet."
"Miss Saxon, if you please. She shall never marry you."
"Oh, yes, she will. What is your objection to the marriage?"
"I refuse to tell you," said Mrs. Octagon violently, and then somewhat
inconsistently went on:
"If you must know, I hated your uncle."
"You said you loved him just now."
"And so I did," cried the woman, spreading out her arms, "I loved him
intensely. I would have placed the hair of my head under his feet.
But he was never worthy of me. He loved Selina, a poor, weak, silly
fool. But I stopped that marriage," she ended triumphantly, "as I will
stop yours."
"I don't think you will stop mine," replied Cuthbert tranquilly, "I am
not to be coerced, Mrs. Octagon."
"I don't seek to coerce you," she retorted, "but my daughter will obey
me, and she will refuse your hand. I don't care if you are fifty times
Lord Caranby. Juliet should not marry you if you had all the money in
the world. I hated Walter Mallow, your uncle. He treated me
shamefully, and I swore that never would any child of mine be connected
with him. Selina wished it, and forced me to agree while she was
alive. But she is dead and Lord Caranby is dead, and you can do
nothing. I defy you--I defy you!"
"We may as well conduct this interview reasonably."
"I shall not let you remain here any longer. Go."
She pointed to the door with a dramatic gesture. Cuthbert took up his
hat.
"I shall go if you insist," he said, moving towards the door, "and I
shall return with a policeman."
Mrs. Octagon gave a gasp and went gray. "What do you mean?"
"You know well what I mean. Am I to go?"
"You have nothing against me," she said violently, "stop, if you will,
and tell me the reason of that speech."
"I think you understand what I mean perfectly well," said Mallow again,
and returning to his seat. "I know that your sister died years ago,"
Mrs. Octagon gasped, "and that Emilia feigned to be Selina Loach. And
perhaps, Mrs. Octagon, you will remember how your sister died."
"I didn't touch her," gasped Mrs. Octagon, trembling.
"No, but Emilia Saul did, and you condoned the crime."
"I deny everything! Go and get a policeman if you like."
Cuthbert walked to the door and there turned. "The statement of Emilia
will make pleasant reading in court," he said.
Mrs. Octagon bounded after him and pulled him back by the coat-tails
into the centre of the room. Then she locked the door and sat down.
"We won't be disturbed," she said, wiping her face upon which the
perspiration stood, "what do you know?"
"Everything, even to that letter you wrote to my uncle, stating he
should see the pretended Selina Loach."
This was a chance shot on Mallow's part, but it told, for he saw her
face change. In fact, Mrs. Octagon was the only woman who could have
sent the letter. She did not attempt to deny it. "I sent that letter,
as I was weary of that woman's tyranny. I thought it would get her
into trouble."
"She would have got you into trouble also. Suppose she had lived and
had told the story of Selina's death."
"She would have put the rope round her own neck," said Mrs. Octagon in
a hollow tone, all her theatrical airs gone. "I was a fool to wait so
long. For twenty years that woman has held me under her thumb. It was
Emilia that made me consent to your engagement to Juliet. Otherwise,"
she added malevolently, "I should have died rather than have consented.
Oh," she shook her hands in the air, "how I hate you and your uncle and
the whole of the Mallows."
"A woman scorned, I see," said Cuthbert, rather cruelly, "well, you
must be aware that I know everything."
"You don't know who killed Emilia?"
"Maraquito said it was you."
"I" shrieked Mrs. Octagon, "how dare she? But that she is dead, as
Juliet told me, I would have her up for libel. Maraquito herself killed
the woman. I am sure of it. That coining factory--"
"Did you know of its existence?"
"No, I didn't," snapped Mrs. Octagon. "I knew nothing of Emilia's
criminal doings. I let her bear the name of my sister--"
"Why?" asked Mallow, quickly, and not knowing what Maraquito had said
to Caranby.
"I don't know," replied Mrs. Octagon, sullenly, "Emilia was in some
trouble with the law. Her brother and mother were afterwards arrested
for coining. She might have been arrested also, but that I agreed to
hold my tongue. Emilia pushed Selina off the plank. Then she turned
and accused me. As it was known that I was on bad terms with Selina, I
might have been accused of the crime, and Emilia would have sworn the
rope round my neck. Emilia made me help her to change the dress, and
said that as the face of the dead was disfigured, and she was rather
like Selina--which she certainly was, she could arrange. I did not
know how she intended to blind my father. But my father died
unexpectedly. Had he not done so, the deception could not have been
kept up. As it was, I went to the inquest, and Emilia as Selina
pretended to be ill. I saw after her and we had a strange doctor.
Then we went abroad, and she came back to shut herself up in Rose
Cottage. I tried to marry Caranby, but Emilia stopped that."
"Why did she?"
"Because she loved Caranby in her tiger way. That was why she insisted
you should marry Juliet. She always threatened to tell that I had
killed Selina, though I was innocent."
"If you were, why need you have been afraid?"
"Circumstances were too strong for me," said Mrs. Octagon, wiping her
dry lips and glaring like a demon. "I had to give in. Had I known of
that factory I would have spoken out. As it was, I wrote to Caranby
when in a fit of rage; but afterwards I was afraid of what I had done,
as I thought Emilia would tell."
"She certainly would have done so had she not died so opportunely."
"Do you mean to say that I killed her? I tell you, Maraquito did so."
"What makes you think that?" asked Mallow, delighted at the mistake.
"Because she was always fighting with Emilia about you. Maraquito
wished to marry you, and Emilia would not let her. After Emilia died,
Maraquito saw me, and we arranged to stop the marriage, and--"
"I know all about that. I saw you--or rather my uncle saw you--enter
Maraquito's Soho house."
"I went on Basil's account also," said Mrs. Octagon, sullenly,
"however, I have told you all. What do you wish to do?"
"I wish to marry Juliet."
"Then I refuse," said Mrs. Octagon, savagely.
"In that case I'll tell."
"You will disgrace Juliet. Besides, the law can't touch me."
"I am not so sure of that. You were an accessory after the fact. And
if the public knew that you had acquiesced in the death of your sister
and had held your tongue for years, you would not be popular. I fear
your books would not sell then."
Mrs. Octagon saw all this, and glared savagely at Cuthbert. She would
have liked to kill him, but he was the stronger of the two, and knew
much which she wished kept silent. Mallow saw the impression he was
making and went on persuasively. "And think, Mrs. Octagon, Juliet can
give you up the six thousand a year--"
"Not she," laughed Mrs. Octagon, sneering.
"She will, at my request. I don't want my wife to possess money made
out of coining. The income will be made over to you by deed of gift."
"Six thousand a year," mused the lady, "and you will hold your tongue?"
"Of course, for Juliet's sake as well as for yours. But I think it
will be advisable for you to travel for a few years."
"I'll take up my abode in America forever," said Mrs. Octagon, rising,
"do you think I'll stop here and see you my daughter's husband? Not
for all the money in the world. Besides, Mr. Octagon has been insolent
over money, and I sha'n't stay with him. Basil and myself will go to
America and there we will become famous."
"It is certainly better than becoming famous in another way," said
Mallow, dryly, "you will, of course be quite amiable to Juliet. Also
to me, in public."
"Oh," she replied, with a short laugh, "I'll kiss you if you like."
"There is no need to go so far. I am sorry for you."
"And I hate you--hate you! Leave me now at least. You can come
to-morrow, and I'll consent publicly to the marriage. But I hope you
will both be miserable. Juliet does not love me or she would despise
you. I wish you had died along with your uncle."
She was becoming so wild in her looks that Cuthbert thought it best to
leave the room. The key was in the door, so he departed, quite sure
that Mrs. Octagon, to avoid scandal about her shady doings, would be
most agreeable towards him in public, however much of a demon she might
be in private. Thus ended the interview.
Next morning Mallow drove to Jennings and related everything, including
the confession of Caranby regarding the accident, and added details of
the interview with Mrs. Octagon. Jennings listened, astonished.
"I am glad you told me," he said, "of course I don't want you to make
all this public. The general impression is the same as that of Mrs.
Octagon, that Maraquito murdered Miss Loach. It need not be known that
Emilia was masquerading under a false name. She need not be brought
into the case at all. What a wonderful case, Mallow."
Cuthbert assented. "It's more like fiction than fact."
"Fact is always like fiction," said Jennings epigrammatically,
"however, we've got a confession from Clancy about the other factories.
The whole gang will be caught sooner or later. And, by the way, Mallow,
on second thoughts, I think it will be best to state the real name of
Emilia."
"I think so too. If she is pilloried as Miss Loach, everyone will know
that she is the aunt of Juliet. Tell the truth, Jennings."
"We'll tell everything, save that Lord Caranby inadvertently murdered
that woman. She was the fatal woman--"
"No," said the new Lord Caranby, "Mrs. Octagon is the fatal woman. She
was at the bottom of everything."
"And has been rewarded with six thousand a year. I don't suppose the
State can seize that money. However, I'll see. I should like to
punish Isabella Octagon in some way. And Susan Grant?"
"You can give her a thousand pounds on my behalf, and she can marry her
baker. Then there's Mrs. Barnes--Mrs. Pill that was. She is quite
innocent. Thomas her husband will be punished, so you had better tell
her, I'll provide for her. As to yourself--"
"That's all right, Mallow, this coining case means a rise of salary."
"All the same, I intend to give you a few thousands on behalf of myself
and Juliet. Without you I would probably have been accused of the
crime. And, in any case, things would have been awkward. There might
have been a scandal."
"There won't be one now," said Jennings. "I'll settle everything.
Mrs. Octagon will go to the States with that young cub, and you can
make Miss Saxon Lady Caranby. It is good of you giving me a reward. I
can now marry Peggy."
"We all seem to be bent on marriage," said Mallow, rising to take his
leave. "How's the shoulder?"
"All right," said the detective, "and it's worth the wound to have
Peggy nursing me. She is the dearest--"
"No, pardon me," said Cuthbert, "by no means. Juliet is the dearest
girl in the wide world," and he departed laughing.
Needless to say, under the careful supervision of Jennings, all scandal
was averted. The gang with Clancy at its head were sentenced to years
of imprisonment, likely to put a stop to all pranks. Maraquito was
buried quietly and Mallow erected a gravestone to her, in spite of her
wicked designs against Juliet. In six months Jennings married Peggy
and took a house at Gunnersbury, where Peggy and he live in the
congenial company of Le Beau, who has become quite reconciled to
Jennings' profession. The old professor teaches dancing to the
children of the neighborhood. Susan Grant also married her baker, and
the two now possess one of the finest shops in Stepney. Mrs. Octagon
went to America almost immediately. She managed to keep the six
thousand a year, in spite of Jennings. No one knows how she managed to
do this, but envious people hinted at Government influence. However,
with Basil she departed to the States, as she confessed to being weary
of constant triumphs in England. Mrs. Octagon now has a literary salon
in Boston, and is regarded as one of the leading spirits of the age.
Basil married an heiress. Peter, weary of playing the part of husband
to a celebrity, remained in England but not in London. He sold the
"Shrine of the Muses" and took a cottage on an estate in Kent belonging
to Lord Caranby. Here he cultivates flowers and calls frequently on
his step-daughter and her husband, when they are in the neighborhood.
Peter never knew the true history of his wife. He always refers to Mrs.
Octagon with respect, but shows no disposition to join her in America.
Peter has had quite enough of sham art and sham enthusiasm.
And Cuthbert was married to Juliet within the year. The wedding was
quiet on account of his uncle's death, and then Lord Caranby took his
bride for a tour round the world. To this day Lady Caranby believes
that Maraquito murdered Miss Loach, and knows also from newspaper
reports that the pretended aunt was really Emilia Saul. Mrs. Octagon
also expressed surprise at the infamous imposture, and quite deceived
Juliet, who never learned what part her mother had taken in the
business. In fact Juliet thought her mother was quite glad she had
married Cuthbert.
"Mother really liked you all the time," she said to her husband when
they set off on their honeymoon.
"I doubt that," replied Lord Caranby, dryly.
"She told me that it was always the dream of her life to see me your
wife, but that Maraquito had threatened to ruin Basil if--"
"Oh, that is the story, is it? Well, Juliet, I am much obliged to Mrs.
Octagon for loving me so much, but, with your permission, we will not
see more of her than we can help."
"As she is in America we will see very little of her," sighed Lady
Caranby, "besides, she loves Basil more than me. Poor boy, I hope he
will get on in America."
"Of course he will. He will marry an heiress--" And Cuthbert's
prophecy proved to be correct--"Don't let us talk of these things any
more, Juliet. This dreadful murder nearly wrecked our life. My poor
uncle talked of a fatal woman. Maraquito was that to us."
"And I?" asked Juliet, nestling to her husband.
"You are the dearest and sweetest angel in the world."
"And you are the greatest goose," said she, kissing her husband fondly,
"we have had enough of fatal women. Let us never mention the subject
again."
And they never did.
THE END