All London rang with the romantic facts that were elicited at the
inquest over the body of poor, murdered Sydney, but though the
examination was conducted with the utmost strictness, and every
available witness was interrogated, no light was thrown upon the matter
that could lead to a conviction of the murderer.
Everyone who heard the tragic story of how Sydney came to her death,
thought that Madame Reine De Lisle's evidence would certainly furnish
some satisfactory clew to the enemy who had sought her life. To their
surprise and consternation, she declared herself utterly ignorant in the
matter.
The note which Sydney had read was found on the dressing-room floor but
Queenie did not recognize the writing and could not guess the writer.
"If I had found the note myself I should have thought precisely as she
did, that it was written by Captain Ernscliffe," she admitted, frankly.
"But I should not have gone to meet him, for I had promised my sister to
avoid him, and deny my identity to him. I have not an enemy upon earth
that I am aware of, neither a jealous lover who might seek my life. I
had an enemy once, who was cruel and vindictive enough for any deed of
darkness, but he is dead long ago."
They cross-examined her, they tried to trip her in every way, but she
never varied in her evidence, and never faltered in her reiterated
declarations, so at last they let her go, feeling convinced that nothing
but the truth had passed her lips.
So the mystery only deepened, and taken together with the romance and
pathos that clung about the story of the resurrected wife and her
brilliant career while seeking her husband, it created a perfect _furor_
of excitement.
The interested parties had tried to keep it a secret, but the facts had
leaked out in spite of them.
Everybody had heard that the great actress was Captain Ernscliffe's
first wife, who had died and been resurrected from the grave and
restored to life, kept a prisoner for months, then escaped, and been
cared for in her friendlessness and desolation by an old actor and
actress, who had found her dying in the wintery night when she had
escaped from her cruel jailers.
They had taught her their profession, and she had gone upon the stage to
earn money to seek her husband.
All this the world knew, and it knew also that the proud Lady Valentine
and her mother refused to recognize the actress, and branded her as a
lying impostor.
All these facts only added to the interest and admiration that had
followed La Reine Blanche wherever she moved.
And poor Sydney was laid away in her grave, while her cowardly murderer
roved at large, "unwhipped of justice."
One single clew to the criminal had been found. Captain Ernscliffe had
employed the most noted detective of the day to ferret out the mystery.
This man had been thoroughly over the ground of the murder, and had
found one trifling clew.
Yet he confidently told his employer that it was an important link in
the chain and might possibly convict the murderer.
It seemed a very trifling thing to Captain Ernscliffe, who had not
learned by grave experience what simple things might lead to great
results.
It was only a woman's handkerchief of plain white linen that he had
found outside the western door, wet and soiled where it had lain on the
damp earth all night.
Only a woman's handkerchief, but it was marked in one corner with a
name--the simple name of "Elsie Gray."
Queenie started when she heard what the detective had said about the
handkerchief. She sent for him immediately.
"Do you believe that there was a woman in complicity with the man who
murdered my unfortunate sister?" she inquired.
"Madam, I cannot tell you," he answered. "She may have been in
complicity with him or she may have been a chance witness. Anyhow I am
bound to find Elsie Gray."
"I can give you this much information about her," was the startling
reply. "Elsie Gray was my maid, and she has been missing ever since the
hour of the murder."
"Elsie Gray your maid!" exclaimed the detective. "That throws new light
on the matter. Can you account for her disappearance?"
"Not at all. She was in the habit of going to the theater every night
with me to help me to change my costumes for the different scenes. She
went with me that night, but when I went to my room after the first act
she was not there. I have never seen her since."
"Had she any grudge against you?"
"None that I am aware of. She was a good-natured, middle-aged woman, and
appeared to be attached to me."
The detective took out pencil and paper.
"Will you describe her appearance to me, Mrs. Ernscliffe?" he said,
courteously.
Queenie started and blushed at being addressed by her husband's name.
She had not yet decided whether she would return to him again or not,
but she complied with the detective's request and minutely described her
maid's appearance.
He carefully noted it down, bowed and withdrew. He reported what he had
learned to Captain Ernscliffe, who bade him go ahead and spare neither
pains nor expense until he had discovered the murderer.
* * * * *
In the meantime the wide-spread notoriety of the whole affair was very
distressing to Mrs. Lyle and the Valentines, and to Queenie and Lawrence
Ernscliffe as well. They could not bear to remain in London.
Lord Valentine took his wife and mother-in-law to Italy for an
indefinite sojourn.
Lawrence Ernscliffe begged his wife to let him take her back to America
to the beautiful home he had prepared for her reception three years
before.
"It does not seem right to return to you and be happy after--after that
terrible tragedy," she objected.
"Queenie, it was not your fault nor mine. Surely you will not doom me to
wretchedness for such a scruple as that. You made every sacrifice she
asked of you while living, and she would not wish you to immolate our
mutual happiness upon her tomb, now that she is dead."
Her own heart seconded his pleading so fully that she could not say him
nay.
"I had meant to fulfill my resolve to retire into a convent for life,"
she said, "but I cannot keep down my heart's rebellious throbs. I will
go with you, my husband."
So it chanced that two weeks later the strangely-reunited husband and
wife stood on the deck of a steamer just leaving her moorings for
America, and as Queenie turned away from her last look at old England's
fading shore, she saw a gentleman hastening toward her--a gentleman so
like her poor, dead father, that her heart leaped into her throat.
"Uncle Rob!" she cried, springing forward with her hands extended.
"My little niece, Queenie!" he exclaimed, taking the two little hands
warmly into his own.
"This is my Uncle Robert Lyle," she said, presenting him to her husband.
"You see, Lawrence, _he_ does not disown me!"
The old gentleman looked down fondly into her sweet face.
"Oh! how could they disown you?" he exclaimed. "You have changed but
little since I saw you last, and that change has only made you more
lovely. I should have known you anywhere, though it is five years since
I saw you last. I have heard your sad story, my dear, and I do not doubt
its truth for an instant. I would have hastened to you at once, but I
was ill and unable to travel."
She flashed a look of silent gratitude upon him from her dusky eyes.
"And by the way," he said, "I owe you a scolding, little Queenie, for
your failure to come abroad with your mother and sisters four years ago.
It was a great disappointment to me when they came without you. I did
not enjoy the year we traveled together half so well as I should if my
little pet had been with us."
Queenie stood silent, growing white and red by turn. Captain Ernscliffe
stared from one to the other in blank astonishment.
"Surely, Mr. Lyle, I have misunderstood your meaning," he said, "Queenie
certainly went to Europe that year with her mother and sisters!"