A FINAL VERDICT.
"Got a message from Mr. Charlton to follow him here," Prout gasped.
"You don't mean to say that you've got her here, sir?"
"Indeed, he has, Mr. Prout," Leona said coolly. "Will you come in? We
have been having a pleasant conversation with some pleasing
confessions. Have you come for me?"
The woman was smiling now quite freely. All traces of passion and
anxiety were gone. She knew the end had come, and she was prepared to
accept it without complaint. Prout looked a little awkward as he
bowed.
"I shall not slip through your fingers in the same way as before,"
said Leona. "I flatter myself I did you very neatly when you called
upon me in Lytton Avenue. But all the same I am going to escape you."
"It's my duty, madame," Prout began, "to ask you to----"
"Accompany you. Presently, but not quite in the way you imagine. I
have made my confession in a way that Mr. Lawrence thoroughly
appreciates. It was I who murdered Leon Lalage, my husband, in this
house; it was I who palmed those notes off on Dr. Bruce. No reason to
tell you why now. And it was I in this very house who robbed my late
mistress of her jewels and forged the letter from her husband that
caused her to take poison. After that I have no more to say.
Gentlemen, I am much obliged by your kind attention, and I say
farewell to you, thus."
There was a warning shout from Lawrence, who dashed forward and
grasped the speaker by the wrist. But she wrenched herself away from
him, and placed the table between them. Prout was looking on in a
confused kind of way.
"Close with her," yelled Lawrence, "she's got poison in her hand."
Leona Lalage laughed aloud. She threw back her head, and a few drops
from the little bottle were tilted between her teeth. Almost instantly
she grew livid.
"Swift and sure," she said, "it's prussic----"
She said no more. The ashy pallor of her skin grew whiter, there was a
look of horror, swift as summer lightning, in her splendid eyes. Then
she pitched forward, there was a thud and a cloud of dust, and she lay
there rigid, motionless.
"Dead," whispered Prout, "dead instantly. It was prussic acid. The
whole room reeks of it. Perhaps it was as well to finish it this way.
There'll be an inquest now, and the whole business will come out."
They laid the body on a sofa, and the trio left the Corner House. They
were very silent as they walked along.
"Some houses are accursed," Charlton said at length. "Mine has been
the abode of mystery and crime for years. I shall never enter it
again.
"And may this be the last of the evils connected with my house."
[Illustration: "Swift and sure," she said, "it's prusic----" --_Page
314_]
"Must attend the inquest, sir," said the practical Prout. "Still, if
that was my house, I'd pull it down if I couldn't sell it."
Gordon Bruce was returning from an important consultation when he
first heard the news. It was the sensation of the hour. Public
attention in the Corner House mystery had never relaxed; on the flight
of Countess Lalage it had doubled. Where had she gone, and what was
the true solution of the mystery were the only questions asked.
And here it was all out in the lurid light of day. Dramatic arrest of
the Countess. The suicide and confession. It was flaring in the
evening papers--the boys were yelling at the top of their voices in
the street. The din of it filled Bruce's ears. "Confession of the
crime." "The confession of the murder." "The mystery of the motor
explained." "Dr. Bruce cleared of the cruel charge." It seemed strange
to Gordon to hear his name yelled out like this in his own ears. He
had a paper thrust into his hands.
He bought one eagerly enough, and stood spellbound on the pavement
whilst he read. It was all here, even down to a signed copy of the
confession. Lawrence had seen to that. Bruce turned into his club in a
dazed kind of way. The smoking-room was full, he was the centre of a
group, all of which seemed eager to shake hands. It was all so sudden
that Bruce was not himself yet.
He got away at length to his own room. The servants greeted him with
smiling faces, the housekeeper was in tears.
"Not that I ever believed it," she said, "Never from the first. And
now you'll have the finest practice in London. I'd quite forgot, sir,
to say that there is a young lady waiting for you."
There was no need for Lawrence to ask who was waiting for him. He
closed the door behind him, and a second later Hetty was in his arms.
Then there was a long, clinging caress, and their lips met in the
sweetest of embraces. It was a long time before either of them spoke.
Hetty's eyes were full of happy tears.
"I shall realise it presently," Bruce said at length. "My darling, I
should never have had my good name cleared thus but for you. You are
the bravest girl in the world. And all those dangers for me!"
"I was not afraid, dearest," Hetty said. "I thought of you. I knew it
would come right. I felt from the first that the truth would come out.
And now all those people have gone. Bruce, you will not be sorry for
this after----"
The telephone jangled sharply. Bruce listened to the message with a
smile.
"The Duchess wants me to see her boy at once," he said. "The Duchess,
you know; the one who so annoyed you at Lady Longmere's party."
Hetty clapped her hands joyfully.
"That is a good omen," she said. "They will be all after you now,
dear."
Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with happiness. Bruce looked at
her with pride and love in his eyes.
"I dare say," he said. "And it has been a long, trying time. Hetty, we
shall be able to get married as I planned. What do you say to July
or----"
"You had better," Hetty said demurely--"you had better run away and
see to your Duchess."
The End