DR. COOPER IS IMPRESSED.
These startling words caused us to throw aside the restraint we had
placed upon our movements. We darted forward to the gate, from which
spot we could just catch the faint sounds of music. The truth burst
upon me like a flash of light. The mystery of Beatrice's supposed
death was made clear to me, and the unspeakable villainy of which Mr.
Nisbet was guilty was revealed. But alas for poor Barbara, who was
eagerly waiting to embrace her sister Molly!
Mme. Bernstein joined us at the gate, and cautioned us to be careful
not to speak aloud. We removed to a safe distance, and were about to
discuss our plans and decide upon our course of action when Ronald
settled the matter for us.
"Mme. Bernstein," he said, addressing her, "the lady is a dear friend
of mine; she was to have been my wife. A foul wrong has been done to
her, and Providence has directed our steps here to save her. We must
enter that ill-fated house to-night."
"To-night!" she exclaimed.
"Now--this moment," said Ronald, with decision.
"But the danger----"
"We are four men to two," said Ronald. "If I place my hands on one of
the monsters I will account for him, blind as I am. We are armed, and
no danger threatens us. An innocent lady's life is in peril; she lies
at the mercy of wretches who have no heart or conscience, and a
moment's delay may be fatal. You shall be well paid for the service,
madame----"
"It is not that I shall be well paid," she interrupted. "I have a
heart, I have a conscience. It is because the master is a dangerous
man. But you shall have your way; the Just God will help you. Tread
softly; make no noise."
"Mr. Elsdale is right," whispered Rivers to me as we followed Mme.
Bernstein. "Strike the iron while it's hot. There's a surprise in
store for two scoundrels to-night."
We succeeded in making our entrance without awaking the enemy.
"What now shall be done?" asked Mme. Bernstein.
Ronald answered her. "Mlle. Mersac--it is not her name, but that
matters little--has no aversion to you, madame?"
"None, none," she replied eagerly.
"You will go to her room, and remain with her till you hear from us.
If she is awake, encourage her to sleep. She must know nothing till
daylight. Should it be needed call to us for assistance."
"Yes, yes."
"You will show us the rooms in which your master and his friend from
London sleep, and you will then leave us." Ronald turned to us. "I and
my uncle will keep watch outside Mr. Nisbet's door; if he comes out to
us I shall know how to deal with him. You, Mr. Rivers and Mr. Emery,
will introduce yourselves to Dr. Cooper, and endeavor to force a
confession from him. If he will not speak--well, you are a match for
him. Bind him, so that he shall be unable to move; then join us, and
we will make Mr. Nisbet secure. He must administer no more stupefying
drugs to his stepdaughter; his power over her is at an end. Have you
any objection to my plan, Mr. Rivers?"
"None. It is the best that can be adopted. Let us set about it."
With noiseless footsteps we ascended the stairs to the sleeping
apartments, Mme. Bernstein leading the way. She pointed out the rooms
to us. "That is the master's; that is his friend's." Then she left us,
and went to Beatrice's room. Bob and Ronald took their station outside
Mr. Nisbet's door and I observed that Bob held his revolver in his
hand. No indication reached us that we had disturbed the inmates.
"It is our turn, now," Rivers whispered to me. "I think I know how to
manage our customer."
He tried the door, and finding it locked, smiled as he said, "Locks
himself in. Doesn't trust his host. A good sign." He did not knock,
but kept fumbling at the handle, in order to attract Dr. Cooper's
attention. Presently succeeding, we heard the doctor get out of bed.
"Who is there?" he asked softly, his ear at the door.
"Let me in," Rivers replied, in a whisper. "I have something to say to
you. Why do you lock your door?"
Had Rivers spoken above a whisper Dr. Cooper would have detected him,
but whispers are very much alike, and it is not easy to distinguish a
man's voice by them.
"Wait a moment," said Dr. Cooper from within. "I will strike a light."
This accomplished, he opened the door, which, as we glided in, Rivers
quickly closed and locked. Dr. Cooper had retreated from the door, and
stood, holding the candle above his head. With an exclamation of alarm
he let the candle slip from his hand, and we were in darkness.
"What a clumsy fellow you are!" exclaimed Rivers in a jocose tone.
"Light it again, Mr. Emery. I have got Dr. Cooper quite safe."
And I saw, when I had picked up the candle and lighted it, Dr. Cooper
standing quite still, with his arms pinned to his sides from behind by
Rivers. I placed the candle out of the doctor's reach, and Rivers
released him.
Dr. Cooper was in his nightshirt, and presented anything but a
pleasant picture. Rivers, on the contrary, had an airy lightness about
him which was new to me. His eyes shone, and he rubbed his hands
together, as if he were taking part in a peculiarly agreeable
function. On a table by the bedside were a glass and a bottle of
whisky, half empty. Rivers put the bottle to his nose.
"Scotch," he said. "I always drink Scotch myself."
"Who are you?" Dr. Cooper managed to say. "What do you want?"
"All in good time, doctor," replied Rivers. "It's no good commencing
in the middle of the game. You haven't the pleasure of my acquaintance
yet, but you know this gentleman."
"I have seen him once before," said Dr. Cooper, with a troubled glance
at me.
"And I am positive you must have enjoyed his society. He proves that
he enjoyed yours by his anxiety to renew the intimacy. He is a private
gentleman, I am a private detective, and we have come a long way to
see you. But you will catch cold standing there with only your shirt
on. Will you get into your clothes or into bed before we have our
chat. You would like to dress? You shall. Softly, softly. I will hand
you your clothes, taking the precaution to empty your pockets first."
"By what right----"
"Steady does it, doctor. If you talk of rights we shall talk of
wrongs. That's a sensible man. On go the trousers, on goes the
waistcoat, on goes the coat, and we're ready for business. Now, how
shall it be? Friends or foes? You don't answer. Very good. We'll give
you time. Take a chair, and make yourself comfortable. No, doctor, no;
don't take your whisky neat; as an experienced toper myself I insist
upon putting a little water into it. And we'll pour half the spirit
back into the bottle. Moderation and economy--that's the order of the
day. You can't make up your mind to speak. Very well; we'll see if we
can loosen your tongue. _I_ intend to make a clean breast of it, and
you may feel disposed presently to follow a good example. Give me your
best attention, I am going to open the case, and if I make mistakes
I'm open to correction. Some few years ago there lived in the north of
London a gentleman--we'll be polite, if nothing else--a gentleman and
his stepdaughter, name of the gentleman Nisbet, name of the
stepdaughter Beatrice. The house they inhabited was in Lamb's Terrace,
and a gentleman of means could not have selected a more desolate
locality to reside in. Miss Beatrice's mother was dead, and in her
will she appointed her second husband--she couldn't very well appoint
her first, doctor--guardian to her child, with a handsome provision
for the maintenance and education of the young lady. The bulk of her
fortune she left to her daughter, who was to come into possession of
it when she was of age. It was a large fortune, some fifty or sixty
thousand pounds, I believe, and I wish such a bit of luck had fallen
to my share, but we can't all be born with silver spoons in our
mouths, can we, doctor? That this fortune should have been left to the
lady instead of the gentleman annoyed and angered him, and he
determined to have the fingering of it. Now, how could that be
managed? There was only one way, according to his thinking, and that
was, to get rid of the lady, because it was set down in the will that,
in the event of the young lady's death before she came of age, the
money should revert to him. He laid his plans artfully, but there was
a flaw in them, as you will presently confess. I don't pretend to
understand how it was that he set about compassing his desire in the
crooked way he did. Perhaps he found the young lady hard to manage;
because he had some sort of sneaking feeling for her, perhaps he
thought it would not be half so bad if he got rid of someone else in
her place; and so contrived that it should be believed it was his own
stepdaughter who was dead, instead of a poor, friendless young girl of
her own age and build."
Dr. Cooper shifted uneasily in his chair, and an expression of
amazement stole into his face.
"I see that I am interesting you. This poor friendless girl was in his
service in Lamb's Terrace at the time, her name, Molly. So what did
this Nisbet do but send his stepdaughter from the house, and take a
ticket for her to some part of the Continent, precise place unknown,
but doubtless where she was pretty well out of the world. He was to
follow her, and they were to live in foreign parts. Meanwhile the poor
girl Molly was left in the London house, and on the morning of his
intended departure was found dead, not in her own bed, but in the
young lady's, with the young lady's clothes on and about her. The
cause of death was said to be asphyxiation by an escape of gas in the
young lady's bedroom. The Nisbets kept no society in London, and had
no friends or acquaintances, so there was no one to dispute his
statement that it was his stepdaughter who was dead. Now, he knew,
that an inquest would have to be held, and that a certificate of the
cause of death would have to be produced, so what does he do but go to
a miserable wretch of a doctor or apothecary living or starving--the
latter, I suspect--in the neighborhood of Lamb's Terrace, and by
plausible words and bribe induce him to give this necessary death
certificate. Name of doctor, Cooper. Fire away, doctor, if you've
anything to say."
"It has been done again and again," said Dr. Cooper, sucking his
parched lips. "But I can't speak till I've had a drink."
"Here it is," said Rivers, mixing a glass, sparing with the whisky and
liberal with the water, and handing it to the wretched man. "Don't
swallow it all at once; moisten your lips with it now and then."
"It has been done again and again," repeated Dr. Cooper. "A doctor is
called in who has not attended the patient; he sees that the cause of
death is unmistakable, and he gives the certificate. It is not a
crime."
"I am not so sure of that," said Rivers, in a dry tone. "Anyway it is
too late now to prove the true cause of poor Molly's, death, for the
body has been cremated."
"It was not a case of illness," continued Dr. Cooper; "no doctor had
been in the house to see the girl before that morning, and I only did
what any other doctor would have done."
"You did," corrected Rivers, "what no respectable doctor would dream
of doing."
"I was in debt," pursued Dr. Cooper, "I was in trouble on all sides, I
had a large family to support, and no food to give them. He came to
me, and I was glad to earn a pound or two. I had never seen him before
that morning, I had never even heard of him. What is this story you
are telling me of another girl being put into his daughter's bed? It
is false; I do not believe it."
"It is true," I said, "and it can be proved, for the young lady
lives."
"May I drop dead off this chair if I knew it!" cried Dr. Cooper, with
trembling outstretched hands. "How was I to know it when I had never
seen the lady, when I had never seen the girl, when I had never seen
him before that morning?"
Notwithstanding the feeling of loathing with which he inspired me, I
had no doubt that he was speaking the truth, and that he was not
implicated in the conspiracy. He presented a pitiable and degrading
spectacle as he sat trembling and writhing in his chair.
"I will go on to the end," said Rivers, "and you will find that you
have something else to explain. The inquest was held, and you gave
false evidence at it."
"You can't prove that it was false," said Dr. Cooper. "There is no
body to exhume, and there is no one to give evidence against me. You
may be right in the other parts of the story, but you will never be
able to prove yourself right in this. I know sufficient of the law to
know that no crime can be brought home to me for which I can be made
to suffer."
"Perhaps you do know the law," said Rivers dryly, and I fancied that
he felt himself at a disadvantage here, "and perhaps you don't. One
thing is certain. You may escape, but there is no possibility of
escape for the infernal scoundrel you have served, and who has brought
you over from London to assist him in some other diabolical scheme."
"Stop a minute," exclaimed Dr. Cooper, bending forward and fixing his
bloodshot eyes on Rivers' face. "Didn't I see you on the boat?"
"It is more than probable," answered Rivers, with a sly chuckle, "for
I was there."
"You followed us?"
"Every step of the way. If you had looked for me you would have seen
me on the train. What do you say now? Are we friends or foes?"
"Friends," cried Dr. Cooper eagerly. "Friends. I am on your side. I
will conceal nothing."
Was it my fancy that there was a movement in the wall between the room
we were in and that occupied by Mr. Nisbet? It must have been, I
thought, for upon looking more closely I saw nothing to confirm the
fancy, and I ascribed it to the fever and excitement of the scene of
which I was a witness.
"You are wise," said Rivers, "though I take it upon myself to declare
that, with or without your assistance, we can bring his guilt home to
him. There are others in the house as well as ourselves. Two of our
friends are at this moment stationed outside Mr. Nisbet's door. He is
doomed, if ever man was. If he knows a prayer it is time for him to
say it."