THE WIND-UP
So this was the end of the case which so perplexed London and London's
police. But neither the police nor the public came to know the truth,
as will appear from a conversation held between Laura and her lover a
fortnight after the death of Jasher. As they were to be married, and
there were to be no secrets between them, Arnold told her the whole
truth, suppressing nothing. Laura wept.
"O Arnold, how terrible it is for Julia! What will she do?"
"She has already made up her mind what to do, and I think she has
taken the wisest course."
"What is that?"
"She will marry Walter Fane quietly and go abroad for a time. Then no
one will ever know the truth."
"But it might come out in other ways."
"No. I have taken care of that. Derrick, as you know, gave up the case
some weeks ago, as he could discover nothing. The only thing he is
doing now is watching the Hampstead house for the return of the dead
woman's husband. Of course your brother-in-law will never return
there, and so Derrick will grow weary."
"But did not Jasher confess when he died?"
"Only to me and Tracey, dear. When Mrs. Baldwin shot him under the
impression that he was a burglar, he did not die immediately. He was
taken to the hospital, but died a few days later. In the interval he
sent for me and Tracey, and knowing everything was ended for him, he
confessed."
"Did he exonerate the professor?"
"Arnold did not reply immediately to the question. He was thinking
what he should say. Finally he resolved to tell the truth.
"The best thing, Laura, is to say what Jasher told us. We wrote it
down, and he signed it in our presence lest any one else should be
accused of the crime. I don't think any one will be, as the murder has
been relegated to obscurity. Still, it is best to be on the safe side.
I have the confession here. I will read it to you."
Laura assenting eagerly, Arnold took a sheet or two of foolscap from
his pocket and read the confession. It ran as follows:--
"I, Rufus Baldwin, better known as John Jasher, Private Inquiry-Agent,
swear as follows, and take my dying oath that what is here set down is
true.
"I met Professor Bocaros when I was haunting the place where my wife
lived. I got into his confidence, and used to come to his place and
talk to him. He never knew that I was Mrs. Baldwin's husband, as I did
not think it was necessary to trust him so far. He told me of his
difficulties, and of Mrs. Brand getting the fortune. One night he told
me how he had discovered that Brand and Fane were the same. I saw a
chance of making money. I told him to hint to Mrs. Brand that her
husband was deceiving her, and said that if we could bring them
together in Ajax Villa, we could make money out of the affair. Bocaros
never thought that murder was intended. He merely fancied that I would
come to the villa when the two were together and swear to expose the
matter to Mrs. Fane and have Fane prosecuted for bigamy if Mrs. Brand
did not pay a large sum. He therefore agreed to my plan.
"Now, my idea was to get Mrs. Brand to make a will in favour of the
professor and then murder her, so that I might share the money with
him. Also to inveigle him to the villa, so that there might be a
chance through circumstantial evidence of proving him to be the guilty
person. In order to make things safe for myself in case there should
be trouble, I arranged in my own mind that Arnold Calvert, a cousin of
Mrs. Brand, and Miss Mason, the girl he was engaged to, should be at
the villa. Then, of course, Fane would be there. So I resolved that if
necessary the crime should be fixed on Mr. Calvert, on Fane, and on
Bocaros. Afterwards, had I thought fit, I could have brought home the
crime to Mrs. Fane in my character of detective. I was anxious to make
a lot of money and to return to the United States, the only place
worth living in, to my mind.
"Bocaros, thinking I meant to act straight, did what I told him. He
got Mrs. Brand to take an impression of the latch-key belonging to
Fane when--as Brand--he slept in the Hampstead house. She did so, and
I got Bocaros to have three keys made--one for himself, one for Mrs.
Brand, and one extra. He gave one duplicate key to Mrs. Brand, and
kept the other. The third key he left in his room. One day I stole it,
and then when he asked denied that I had done so. This key I sent to
Calvert in the name of Miss Mason, and asked him to be at the villa at
half-past nine or thereabouts. I also sent a letter purporting to be
from Calvert to Miss Mason, asking her to be at the house at the same
hour. Then I got Bocaros to tell Mrs. Brand to write to her husband
asking him to come to Ajax Villa on the night of the twenty-fourth of
July. My plans were thus arranged to trap the lot, and I could have
added Mrs. Fane, as I found she followed her husband to town on that
same night. Had she not lost him at Liverpool Street Station, she
would have also been implicated in the matter.
"All being thus arranged, I called for Mrs. Brand on the night in
question, and took her to the villa. Bocaros was to have met us, but
he, being detained at his school, was late. I entered into the villa
with Mrs. Brand, using the latch-key. No one saw us. We went to the
White Room, and I told her of her husband's villainy. I may here
mention that it was the professor who introduced me to Mrs. Brand as
the man who knew all about the matter. He did this at my request. I
had to manage the matter myself, as I intended murder, and the
professor was too squeamish.
"I was in the White Room with Mrs. Brand. She was much disturbed over
the matter. Drawing a dagger she had in her pocket, she declared she
would kill Fane. I suppose she indulged in this theatrical attitude
because she was half a Greek and excitable. The dagger, as she said,
was one which had been bought by Mr. Calvert for stage purposes. He
left it in her house by mistake. I managed to calm Mrs. Brand, and
took the dagger from her. She sat at the piano. I came behind her, and
lifted my arm to strike. As the stiletto struck her she gave a cry and
turned desperately on me. She clutched at my watch-chain and tore
therefrom a locket I wore, which contained a portrait of my wife. I
did not discover my loss till afterwards. Then she died. I left her
there and went away. Afterwards Fane came and found her dead. He
concealed the dagger in the dustbin. While doing this Miss Mason came
to the door. Finding that Mr. Calvert was not there she went away.
Then the professor, being late, came. I had taken the key from the
body of the dead woman, and entered after him. There was no one
about. I went upstairs and found Bocaros looking at the dead. I
accused him of the deed. He denied it, and indeed was innocent.
However, it suited my purpose to accuse him, as it gave me more power.
I led him away. Afterwards Calvert came and went away, afraid lest he
should be accused. Fane finally escaped by using Tracey's motor-car.
So all were out of the house when the body was discovered by Mulligan.
"These are the true facts of the case. Afterwards Bocaros, on his way
to see about the will, came to my office and engaged me to look after
the case. He did this at my desire, so that I could turn the evidence
as I chose. Then Bocaros found that Mrs. Brand had cheated him, and
had given the money to Calvert. Why she did so I do not know, unless
it was that she liked Calvert the best. However, the money being gone,
I wanted to get it. I therefore arranged that the blame of the crime
should fall on Calvert. He, quite unsuspicious of my ends, engaged me
to hunt down the assassin. I was hunting down him. Had he not
overslept himself he would have been at the villa at the time of the
commission of the crime, and I would have caught him in my net. Then I
would have made a lot of money.
"As it was, Tracey's discovery of the diary led to the detection of
Fane, and Fane's confession led to the production of the locket which
Mrs. Brand held in her dead hand. Then Bocaros grew frightened and
told the truth. The result was that I was in danger of arrest, and,
with the locket, the crime would most certainly have been brought home
to me.
"I sought shelter with my wife, but she shot me. She said she thought
I was a burglar. I suppose she did, and----"
Here Laura interrupted the reading. "Surely Mrs. Baldwin did think he
was a burglar," she said indignantly.
"Of course," said Arnold quickly; "for certain she did, Laura. Had she
known he was her husband, little as she loved him, she would not have
fired the shot. And you remember the jury brought in a verdict
exonerating Mrs. Baldwin."
"I'm glad of that," said Laura thoughtfully. "Read on, dear."
"There's no more," said Arnold, returning the confession to his
pocket. "I shall put this in the deed-box at Laing and Merry's, to be
used should occasion arise, though I don't think it ever will. So that
ends the whole matter. We can get married as soon as possible, Laura,
and thank heaven our troubles are over."
While Laura and Arnold were thus talking in one room, Mrs. Fane was
having a conversation with her husband in another. Walter Fane, bowed
with shame, was half lying on the sofa, and Mrs. Fane was pacing the
room. He had just confessed all, and his wife's cheeks were crimson
with anger.
"O you coward--you mean, pitiful coward!" she said fiercely, "how dare
you marry me, to bring me to this shame! I thought you were only a
fool. But you are a knave and worse than a knave. That poor creature's
death lies at your door."
"I did not kill her," moaned Fane, burying his face in the cushions.
"Not in fact, but otherwise you did. Had you not led this double life
the tragedy would never have happened."
"Well, it has happened and everything's at an end," said Fane, sitting
up sullenly. "Calvert has stifled all inquiry. Nothing will ever be
known, unless you give the thing away."
"What do you take me for?" cried Mrs. Fane, turning on him. "Do you
think I am going to pose as a disgraced woman with your friends and
mine? I made you confess something of this when you came back to
Southend. I shielded you in my interview with Bocaros, so that you
should not be suspected. But I never thought Mrs. Brand was your
wife--you liar!"
"What's the use of calling names?" said Fane, still sulky.
"None--none. I have a good mind to leave you for good and all."
"Why don't you, then?"
"Because, after all, you are my child's father. Besides, you are a
poor miserable creature, who can't look after yourself. I shall still
continue to be your wife. We must be married again quietly and go
abroad for a time, as was our original intention. Then we will come
back, and I shall get a farm down the country near London, so that I
can come up to look after the business. After this I shall manage the
whole business myself You will be a cipher."
"I always have been," muttered Walter.
"Well, that is arranged, so we need say nothing more about the matter.
Let us be friends. I don't love you--I can't respect you; but for the
child's sake let us be friends."
"You'll only bully me," said Walter hopelessly. "No," said Mrs. Fane,
in a softer voice. "You poor creature, God forbid I should be hard on
you. I am a strong-minded woman, but I am not a tyrant. I will look
after you, since you are so weak, and do my best."
"Thank you," said Walter, "you are very good." And he meant what he
said, for the woman's superior will and mind enforced respect.
Mrs. Fane looked at him in silence; then--a rare thing with her--she
moved towards him and kissed him. "Let us talk no more about the
matter," she said. "The old life is ended--the new has begun. Let us
talk of other things."
"The marriage of Calvert, for instance."
"I owe Mr. Calvert an apology," said Mrs. Fane slowly. "I did not like
him, but he has behaved nobly. But for his discretion the whole affair
might have come out in the papers, to my lasting disgrace. I give my
consent to the marriage with all my heart, and I hope that Laura will
prove herself worthy of such a good man."
So things were arranged in this quarter, and Walter Fane got off much
easier than he deserved, considering his behaviour. Mrs. Fane told
Arnold of her intentions, and then thanked him for his kindness. After
Laura's marriage, which took place in a couple of months, they became
the best of friends.
And it was at the marriage that Mrs. Tracey appeared so beautiful in
the character of a bride.
"She's a clipper, is Gerty T.," said the happy bridegroom. "I'm going
to take her to the States to show what a beauty she is. The business
is humming and the money pouring in, so off we go to the U.S.A."
"I wish you joy with all my heart, Laura," said Gerty, embracing the
bride. "And Arnold's such a nice fellow, and you are so rich."
"Yes, we are. We intend to take a place in the country, and be quiet
people. Arnold and I like a rural life."
"I hear Mrs. and Mr. Fane have gone abroad."
"Yes. They will be back in a few months, and then they will take a
place down the country also."
"I suppose they couldn't stand the villa, after the tragedy?"
"Who could? Since they left it no one has taken it, and the landlord
intends to pull it down to exorcise the ghost. How is your mother,
Gerty dear?"
"Oh, she's happier than ever she has been. She seems to have grown
younger since she shot the burglar."
And then the two brides went on to talk of other things. Meantime,
Luther Tracey drew aside Calvert into a corner. "Say," was his remark,
"I haven't seen you for a time since I've been away on my honeymoon.
What of the professor?"
"Oh, he has gone back to Greece, quite recovered from his wound. I
allow him an income sufficient to keep him alive."
"He shouldn't have had anything. You're too good."
"He did act badly; but, after all, I don't think the poor creature is
quite sane. He is married also--yes--Mrs. Fane's maid, Emily Doon."
"Hum!" said the American. "I guess he was sane enough to get a
handsome bride, though. I never trusted that girl. She had something
to do with the case."
"Don't talk of the case," said Arnold, shuddering. "When I think how
near we all were getting into the most terrible trouble through that
scoundrel----No, he's dead, let us not call him names. His evil is
buried with him. But one thing, Tracey. Did Mrs. Baldwin really know
it was her husband she killed? I know she recognised him afterwards;
but when she fired did she know?"
"Rufus said she did, but out of consideration for the children he had
the decency not to put that into the confession. I believe she knew
all the time, and is glad she killed him."
"Does she ever allude to him?"
"No. She's settled down to her old lazy life, eating sweets and
reading novels. I don't think she'll ever mention his name till her
dying day. And Gerty T. knows nothing about it. I hear Mrs. Baldwin's
going to sell her land and move further into town; but she never will.
When Gerty T. and I return from the States we'll find her in the old
shanty. By the way, she's pulled down the professor's house."
"To get rid of all memories connected with the case, I suppose. Well,
I'm glad it's ended. It was terrible."
"Arnold, are you coming?"
This was from the bride. Afterwards the happy pair departed for a
honeymoon on the Continent, and discussed their future plans. "You
must let me furnish the house, dear," said Laura; "I have such taste."
"You have; you chose me to be your husband. But don't have a White
Room."
"I never will," said Laura. "Arnold, never mention that place again."
And Arnold never did. So after all the trouble came the peace and
calm, and the two, happy in one another, soon forgot the terrible
case. The public also forgot it, and the White Room itself has
disappeared.
THE END.
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Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
at the Edinburgh University Press