LOST IN THE DARKNESS
While the terrible word was yet on the housekeeper's lips, Bernard
stepped forward and loosened the handkerchiefs. That round the neck was
one of Sir Simon's own, a yellow bandana woven of strong silk, and
eminently suited to the deadly purpose it had been used for. But how had
the dead man's own handkerchief been so utilised by the murderer? While
untying the knot, Bernard wondered; but he gained an inkling into the
method pursued when he removed the white handkerchief which had been
bound across the mouth. It exhaled a faint odor of chloroform, so it was
apparent that the old baronet had been first rendered unconscious, and
then strangled with his own bandana. But who was guilty of the crime?
"What do you know of this?" asked Gore, in a hoarse voice, turning to
the housekeeper.
She had ceased to cry out, and was staring at him with glittering eyes.
At the same time she appeared to be listening intently. Far off could be
heard the sound of approaching footsteps echoing along the pavement.
Evidently a policeman, summoned by Mrs. Gilroy's shriek, was hurrying to
see what was the matter. As the door had been left open he would know
where to enter. These thoughts flashed through Mrs. Gilroy's mind as she
stared at the pale young man. Also there were sounds in the lower parts
of the house hinting that the servants had been aroused. A distant clock
struck the three quarters, and even at that terrible moment Bernard
remembered that in his vague wanderings after the boy he had been
forty-five minutes getting to Crimea Square. And Mrs. Gilroy still
looked.
"What do you know of this?" repeated Gore, wondering at her silence.
She gave a gasp. "He is dead," said Mrs. Gilroy. "I wonder if he died
hard. He was a strong old man."
Wondering more than ever at this strange speech, Bernard felt the pulse
and the heart of his grandfather. There was no doubt that life was
extinct, although it could not have been so long. The skin was still
warm to the touch, but that might have been because the room was heated.
Also, the dead man was seated close to the fire. "How terrible!"
muttered Bernard, whose emotions were not yet under control. "I must get
help."
He turned to go, but the housekeeper, suddenly becoming endowed with
life, flung herself in his path. "No!" she said harshly. "Don't seek
help if you value your life."
"What do you mean?" asked Gore, striving to shake off the hand she laid
on his sleeve. "The servants are up--a policeman is evidently coming
along. Hark! he is entering the hall. I must--"
"You go to the gallow," muttered Mrs. Gilroy clinging to him.
"I!" the perspiration burst out on Bernard's forehead, and he started
back. "Are you mad?"
"You are, you are," went on the housekeeper, hurriedly, "you fool! It is
known that your grandfather disinherited you, and--"
"You know I did not commit this crime."
"I know nothing. I--I" Mrs. Gilroy put her hand to her head. "It's the
only way--the only way," she whispered to herself. "You killed him, you
strangled him. I swear to it--I swear to it! Help!" she raised her voice
to scream. "Help!"
"Let me go," cried Bernard, thinking he had been drawn into a trap.
But Mrs. Gilroy still clung with a force for which he would not have
given her credit. Shrieking aloud she was dragged by the startled young
man into the passage and towards the landing. Below, in the hall, the
door of which was open, the cook and the housemaid were embracing a
burly policeman, and terrified small page was looking up the stairs. On
the vision of this alarmed group reeled Mrs. Gilroy, clinging and
shrieking to Bernard--"Help me--help me! He will escape!" The policeman
blew a shrill whistle and said a sharp word to the page, who scampered
out of the door for dear life. The cook and housemaid receded towards
the back of the hall as Bernard, dragging Mrs. Gilroy after him, flung
himself down the stairs. He saw now that his position was dangerous, but
his wits were so bewildered that he hardly knew what he was doing. As he
reached the foot of the stair the policeman caught him by the coat. "I
arrest you in the King's name," said the officer, promptly.
"Yes, yes! for murder--murder!" cried Mrs. Gilroy, breathlessly.
"Murder!" the other servants shrieked.
"Who is dead?" asked the policeman, with professional stolidity.
"Sir Simon Gore. This is his grandson. He has strangled him."
"It's a lie--a lie!" cried Bernard, very pale. "I did not enter--"
"Anything you say now will be used in evidence against you," said the
policeman. "Come up the stairs, we must see this corpse. A titled man,
too, and your grandfather--you audacious scoundrel!" and he shook the
wretched young man.
"I tell you I am innocent," said Bernard, his lips dry and his face
pale. "I came here--"
"To kill Sir Simon. Jane," cried Mrs. Gilroy, turning to the housemaid.
"Don't you see who it is?"
Jane staggered forward supported by the cook. "Lor'," she gasped in
terror, "it's Bernard. Whatever did you--"
"You know him, then?" asked the officer.
"Yes! he's been making love and visiting me for the last week?"
"I thought so," cried Mrs. Gilroy, triumphantly. "Cook."
"I know him too," said the cook, keeping well out of the way. "It's the
young soldier as courts Jane. Bernard's his name."
"I was never in this house before," said Gore, quite unnerved.
"Is your name Bernard?" asked the policeman.
"Yes! but--"
"Then you are guilty."
"He is--he is!" cried the housemaid. "He was here this evening, but went
away at six. Sir Simon said he would see him after ten. Oh, Bernard, how
could you!" sobbed Jane. "To think I should have took up with a man as
'ull be put in the Chamber of Horrors."
"Policeman, let me go," said Gore, firmly. "There is some mistake."
"The magistrate will decide that. Help will be here soon, and then
you'll be lodged in jail."
"Mrs. Gilroy," cried the young man, overwhelmed with horror, "you know I
am innocent."
"No," she said fiercely, and with her eyes on his face. "You came to see
Sir Simon after ten. I let you in myself. I waited below while you spoke
with Sir Simon, and you left fifteen minutes ago. I went upstairs to see
my master. He was dead--strangled. I ran out calling murder, and you
were almost on the doorstep."
"I had only just come."
"Come back, you mean," said the officer.
"To see if poor master was dead," shrieked the cook.
"Oh, Bernard--Bernard!" sobbed Jane, "how could you kill him! Lor'! that
I should have kissed a murderer."
"Hark!" said Mrs. Gilroy, raising her hand, "footsteps. The other police
are coming. Take him away to jail, officer."
"This is a trick--a trap!" cried Bernard, struggling to get free. "I
never was in the house before--"
"You have visited in the kitchen for over a fortnight," said Jane,
weeping copiously.
"Someone like me has, but not me. Look well, girl. Am I the man?"
"Bring him under the lamp, policeman," said Jane, hesitating.
"No!" said Mrs. Gilroy, pushing the housemaid back, "there is no time.
Here are the police. We must go upstairs and see Sir Simon. Miss
Randolph is at the theatre with Mr. Beryl. Ah--hark!"
There was a sound of approaching wheels, and a moment afterwards a
carriage drove up. Out of it stepped Lucy and Julius. They entered the
hall and looked amazed, as they well might, on seeing Bernard in the
grip of the policeman, and the alarmed women around him.
"What's this?" asked Julius.
"Bernard," cried Lucy, running forward, "what have you done?"
"Murdered his grandfather, miss," said the policeman.
Lucy uttered a wild shriek and sprang up the stairs, followed by the
cook and housemaid. But Mrs. Gilroy still held her ground and caught
hold of Beryl's arm. "Keep him fast, sir," she said savagely. "He came
this night and murdered the master."
"Julius, it is a lie!"
"I hope so," said Beryl, who looked pale and startled; "but you know you
quarrelled with my uncle."
"Ah, did he?" said the policeman, and felt for his pocket-book. In doing
so, he slightly relaxed his grip, and Bernard was quick to take
advantage of the chance. Had he but reflected for a moment, he would
have stood his ground and have faced the worst; but with the accusing
face of Mrs. Gilroy before him, and a memory of the housemaid's evidence
and Beryl's enmity, he decided hastily to fly. In a moment he laid the
policeman flat on his back by a quick wrestling trick, and darted out
into the street. Mrs. Gilroy ran to the door shrieking murder, and the
word was heard by three or four policemen who were tramping hurriedly
along in the wake of the breathless page. At once they realized the
situation, and plunged into the fog after the flying form of the
soldier. The page followed also, but speedily returned with the news
that the fugitive was running towards High Street.
"He's bound to be caught," said Mrs. Gilroy.
"I hope not," said Beryl, who was standing in the hall much disturbed.
"After all, he is my cousin."
"And a murderer," added the housekeeper. "Wait here, policeman."
"But he's got away," said the officer, considerably ruffled by the
escape. "I must follow."
"The others are after him," said Julius, drawing him back. "You can't
follow in the fog. It's thicker than ever. Mrs. Webber."
"Oh, what's the matter?" asked a trembling voice, and a white face
appeared at the window of the carriage which stood at the door. "Mr.
Beryl!"
"Sir Simon has been murdered by his grandson," said Julius, running down
the steps and speaking quietly.
Mrs. Webber threw herself back into the carriage and shrieked, "Oh,
horrible! Drive away--drive away."
"No! no!" said Beryl, anxiously. "Lucy is upstairs with the corpse. Come
and take her away. She can't remain here."
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Webber, recovering from her momentary alarm,
and getting hastily out of the carriage. "James, where is Francis?"
"He's gone off after the murderer, mum," said James, touching his hat;
"but for the 'orses I'd have gone also."
"Wait--wait," said Mrs. Webber, hurrying up the steps. "How
terrible--poor Sir Simon. Where is the body?" she asked, shuddering.
"In the sitting-room on the first floor," said Mrs. Gilroy.
"Where the red light is?" asked the lady.
"There is no red light," said Mrs. Gilroy.
"But I tell you there is," said Mrs. Webber. "I saw it when I heard the
horrid cry of murder."
"The red light," said Julius, starting. "I wonder"--he hurried outside
and looked up to the dark front of the house. "There's no red light,
Mrs. Webber," he called out.
"I knew there wasn't," cried Mrs. Gilroy, sitting down, evidently
exhausted. "You must be mistaken, ma'am."
Mrs. Webber ran out also. "I am not mistaken. Why"--she stared up
also--"there is none. Yet I am sure--I'll ask Lucy," and she ran into
the house again. "Come and show me where the poor man is."
This was to Mrs. Gilroy, who rose slowly and walked heavily up the
stairs. "Are you in pain, Mrs. Gilroy?" asked Julius, who followed.
"Yes," she muttered, pressing her hand to her side. "Mr. Gore gave me a
wrench when I struggled with him. My poor master," and sighing heavily,
she panted up the stair.
In the room, Lucy was kneeling beside the dead, with the tears streaming
down her cheeks and holding the limp hand. "How terrible it is!" she
sobbed. "He was so well and bright when I left to go to the theatre, and
now"--she broke down. Julius supported her to the sofa and strove to
calm her.
"It _is_ terrible," he said soothingly. "I think you had better go back
with Mrs. Webber."
"No!" she said, drying her eyes. "I will wait here."
"Yes, do, miss," chorussed the cook and the housemaid, who were both in
a state of wild alarm.
"Nothing of the sort," said Mrs. Webber, laying her hand on the girl's
shoulder. "Come home with me, dear."
Mrs. Webber was a small, dark, stern-looking little woman with a high
color, although her face was very white at the present awful moment. She
was possessed of considerable determination, as could be seen from her
firm mouth. But Lucy, in spite of her youth and the crushing to which
she had been subjected by Sir Simon, had the stronger will, and
positively refused to leave the house.
"He was my only friend," she said, rising, "and I won't go away."
"You can do nothing, dear," said Julius, quickly.
"I can help the nurse with the body," she answered. "Don't say another
word, Julius. My post is here. Send for someone at once to lay out the
body, unless you--" She looked at Jane and the cook.
These cowards shrieked simultaneously, and with one accord fled to the
lower regions, where they sat up for the rest of the night drinking
strong tea, and discussing the tragic event with the gusto peculiar to
their class. The policeman joined them here later, and asked after the
courting of Jane.
Meantime Mrs. Webber, finding all remonstrance vain, had departed. Mrs.
Gilroy remained alone with the dead body, and Julius, leading Lucy to
another room, answered the inquiries of an inspector who had appeared on
the scene. He noted all replies made, and explained that the fugitive
had not yet been caught. "And I don't know if he will be," added
Inspector Groom, shrugging his shoulders; "the fog is thick."
"And Bernard is very quick," said Lucy, sipping a glass of wine which
she sorely needed. "Oh, I hope he'll get away!"
"Very natural," said Groom, nodding. "You don't want the scandal."
"I don't want Bernard hanged," said Miss Randolph.
"Ah! Then you think he is guilty."
"Mrs. Gilroy says he is," answered the girl, sobbing, "and I know
Bernard was on bad terms with Sir Simon. Julius, perhaps after all
Bernard may be innocent."
"I hope so," said Beryl, dubiously; "but according to Jane, Bernard has
been hanging round the house for the last fortnight, and----"
"Ah!" said Groom, sharply, "hanging round the house, eh? I must speak to
Jane. Who is she?"
"The housemaid. Bernard has been making love to her."
"I don't believe that is true," said Lucy.
"Young gentlemen do take strange fancies sometimes," said Groom, "and
some housemaids are pretty."
Lucy's lip curled. "Jane is not pretty," said she, decidedly, "and
Bernard is far too fastidious a man to lower himself in that way."
"Well, the long and the short of it is, that he has been hanging round
the house," put in Beryl, biting his fingers impatiently. "Probably he
came here this evening, and saw Sir Simon in answer to the signal of the
Red Window."
"The Red Window!" echoed Lucy.
"Yes. You told me about the signal this evening."
"But I did not place a lamp in any window, and there is no Red Window
here. Had I done that to attract Bernard, I should have told you."
"I don't think you would," said Beryl, with a significant expression;
"but the fact remains, Mrs. Webber saw the Red Window."
"You did not."
"No. But a piece of red stuff may have been used to make the light, and
then removed."
"Mrs. Gilroy may know about it."
But Mrs. Gilroy, when questioned, did not. She never knew anything about
a red light. Sir Simon had expressed the wish to see the soldier, and
had sent down to the kitchen before six. "He was then having tea with
Jane."
"Did you see him?" asked the inspector.
"No. Had I done so I should have recognized him. But he always got out
of the place when he heard me coming. Once he was concealed in a
cupboard. On receiving Sir Simon's message sent by the page, he left the
house----"
"Yes," interrupted Lucy. "I remember the message being brought back."
"And then he came after ten," went on Mrs. Gilroy. "I opened the door to
him. He asked to see his grandfather."
"He was this man, then?" asked Groom.
"Mr. Bernard Gore? Yes, he was. He went to see the old gentleman, and I
waited below. Then he left the house----"
"Did you let him out?"
"No. He went away quickly. Wondering at the length of the interview, I
ran up the stairs and found Sir Simon dead. I came out at once, and
found Mr. Gore almost on the doorstep----"
"Mr. Gore?" asked the inspector, looking up.
"Yes. Mr. Bernard Gore, the grandson of Sir Simon."
"And my cousin," said Julius. "You say he was at the door?"
"He was, Mr. Beryl. I made him come up the stairs and"--she made a
gesture--"you know the rest."
Groom put the housekeeper through a thorough examination, and noted down
her replies. She told a consistent story. Then he questioned Julius and
Lucy regarding the quarrel between the deceased and his grandson.
Finally he proceeded to the kitchen and questioned the servants. The
result of these inquiries was that Inspector Groom left the house--with
a policeman in charge--firmly persuaded of Bernard's guilt. All the
evidence pointed to his committal of the crime. Groom was not
ill-pleased. He thought he had secured a case likely to cause a
sensation, and to prove remunerative to himself.
While the rope to hang the unfortunate young man was being woven, the
outcast--for he was nothing else now--was racing through the fog. After
the first plunge into the gray mist, he succeeded in shaking off the
officers--all save one. This was a young fellow, quick on his legs. He
followed Bernard towards the High Street, as had been reported by the
page, who had seen the two dark forms shooting past him. Only a yard or
two lay between pursued and pursuer, and Gore, in spite of all his
efforts, could not increase the distance. But he was determined not to
be taken. Undoubtedly he had been drawn into a trap, and howsoever
innocent he was, it might be impossible to prove that he was guiltless
in the face of the enmity of Mrs. Gilroy and Julius. Also, there was the
evidence of Jane to be reckoned with, and she was doubtless a tool in
the hands of her superiors. Bernard wanted to gain a place of refuge, so
that he might think over his position and communicate with Durham and
Conniston. They might be able to help him in this dilemma.
It was impossible to remain in the High Street, seeing that every moment
he ran a chance of falling into the arms of a policeman. He therefore
turned down a side street and raced through Cheniston Gardens. His
pursuer, still close on his heels, followed, and by this time another
officer had joined. Bernard made up his mind and ran for the river. He
crossed Cromwell Road, Fulham Road, sped through Elm Park Gardens, and
down to Chelsea. Many were after him by the time he reached the river's
bank. Only one chance remained. He plunged into the stream and the fog
covered his retreat.
"It's all up," said the policeman, who heard the plunge. "He'll be
drowned."