CROSS-EXAMINATION.
Major Jen sprang to his feet with a loud cry. This information that
Battersea was the criminal took him so utterly by surprise that for
the moment he was tongue-tied. Then, when he recalled the feeble and
emaciated form of the old tramp, when he recollected his weak
intelligence, he altogether declined to believe that such a creature,
one so wanting in activity, could have conceived and executed a triple
crime--the theft of the devil-stick, the murder of Maurice, the
stealing of the body. Battersea had not sufficient craft or strength
to do such things. With a shrug of his shoulders the major resumed his
seat.
"You must be mistaken, Lady Meg," he said in a quiet voice. "Whosoever
may be guilty, Battersea, for physical and mental reasons, must be
innocent."
"That you must prove," replied Lady Meg, dryly.
"And in accusing Battersea I go only on your own premises. You said
that the man who stole the devil-stick, who had it in his possession,
must be the guilty person. You see the devil-stick there." She pointed
to the table. "Well, I obtained that from Battersea."
"How did you obtain it?"
"Knowing that I collected curiosities, he came to sell it to me."
"A proof of his innocence," cried Jen, promptly.
"If the man had been guilty, he certainly would not offer the evidence
of his guilt for sale. Where did he obtain this devil-stick?"
"Out of your smoking-room, I presume," said Lady Meg, "But I have not
questioned him, as I thought it best that you should examine him
yourself."
"Certainly, when I can find him. Where is he now?"
"Round at your stables with my groom. I brought him over with me."
"Thank you, Lady Meg," said Jen, cordially. "I congratulate you on
your presence of mind, and on your courage."
"There is no necessity to congratulate me at all," replied the other,
coloring. "I knew that it would not be wise to let him out of sight
after I saw the devil-stick in his possession. And as to my courage,"
she added carelessly, "the poor old creature is so feeble that even I,
a woman, could overpower him. But ring the bell, major, and have him
in. I may be wrong. He may be innocent, but if you force him to
confess how he obtained possession of the devil-stick you may get at
the truth, and perhaps at the name of the murderer."
"It won't be the name of Battersea," said Jen, touching the button of
the bell. "He had no motive to steal my devil-stick or to kill
Maurice, nor could he have any reason to take possession of a dead
body. Besides," added Jen, returning to his seat, "if this tramp were
guilty, he would scarcely put his neck in danger by offering you the
devil-stick for sale."
At this moment the footman appeared in answer to the bell, and in
obedience to his master's peremptory order left the room again for the
purpose of bringing in old Battersea for examination. While waiting,
neither Lady Meg nor the major spoke, as they both considered, and
truly, that nothing further could be said until the truth was forced
from the tramp. Then the present aspect of the case might change, and
an important step might be taken toward the solution of the mystery.
As dirty and disreputable as ever, Battersea, rolling his cap in his
dirty hands, made his appearance on the threshold of the library,
conducted by the disgusted footman. When the door was closed behind
him, and he stood alone before those who were about to examine him, he
shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, blinked his bleared eyes,
and blushed as with the shame of guilt through the sallow darkness of
his skin. Jen, with the military instinct of command fully awakened
within him, looked sternly at the feeble old creature, and questioned
him sharply, as though he were talking to a soldier who had done
wrong. On her part, Lady Meg left the most part of the examination to
the major; but she listened with anxious looks and parted lips to
every word which fell from the tramp's lips. The death of the man whom
she had loved so deeply had inflicted terrible anguish upon her loving
heart, and, as a tribute to his memory, she was anxious to punish his
assassin. But at present, influenced by the views of the major, she
began to waver in her opinion regarding the guilt of the weak-brained
creature who stood trembling nervously at the doorway.
"What is your name, man?" demanded Jen, commencing in the orthodox
manner.
"Battersea, sir."
"What else?"
"Nothin' else," retorted the tramp sullenly. "My father was black, an'
my mother she was white; an' they weren't married. I was brought up in
Battersea parish, so I took that name, I did, not havin' any right to
another name."
"How do you get your living?"
"I begs!" said Battersea, candidly. "And when I can't get nuffin I
steals."
"I am sure of that," remarked Jen, taking the devil-stick off the
table. "And you stole this, I'll be bound."
"I didn't. I found it."
"Oh!" said the major, in a satirical tone. "You found it? Where?"
"At Missus Dallas' place."
Jen started, and looked sharply at the old man, who, to all
appearances, was answering his questions with all possible candor.
"Be more explicit, man," he said sternly. "What do you mean by Mrs.
Dallas' place? The house or the grounds?"
"The groun's, near the gate."
"When did you find it?"
"The day arter th' young gen'man was killed."
"And why didn't you give it up to the police?"
Battersea scowled.
"I wanted money for it, I did," he said huskily, "an' they wouldn't
give no tin to me fur findin' it. She," pointing to Lady Meg, "is fond
of pretty things, so I guv it her for five shillin'; but she didn't
pay me for it."
"No," said Lady Meg, speaking for the first time, "because I did not
know if you had come by it honestly."
"I tell 'ee I found it, I did," growled Battersea, becoming restive
under the constant questioning. "Found it near the gate of Missus
Dallas' place."
"Inside the gate," asked Jen, "or outside, on the road?"
"Inside; jus' among the grass. I was comin' up to get some food from
missy, and I sowr that 'andle shinin' in the sun. I goes an' I looks,
an' I fin's it. I knowed as the perlice wanted it, 'cause I 'eard talk
of it doin' murder; but as perlice wouldn't give me tin, I wouldn't
guv it to they," added Battersea, cunningly, "so I keeps it for 'er,
but she ain't paid me yit," he concluded, with the whine of a
mendicant.
For the moment Major Jen did not ask any more questions, for the very
simple reason that he did not exactly know what course to take.
Undoubtedly the tramp was telling the truth. He had no reason to
conceal it; for in his own mind Jen quite acquitted him of any
complicity in the crime. That so feeble and elderly a creature,
debauched by intemperance, weak from insufficient food, should attack
a vigorous young athlete like Maurice, was out of the question, even
though he had the advantage of possessing the devil-stick. But here
the question of the dried-up poison occurred to Jen. If the poison had
evaporated by the lapse of time, the devil-stick must have been
innocuous and incapable of inflicting death. Therefore, upon the
evidence of the saturated handkerchief, the bag concealed in the
turquoise-studded handle must have been refilled by Dido!--Dido, for
the significant reason that she, inheriting the traditions of her
Ashantee grandmother, alone must have been capable of manufacturing
the deadly drug. To prove this assumption, a feasible one, the
devil-stick was close at hand.
Jen picked it up and slightly pressed the handle. At once the
turquoise gems indented the concealed bag; at once the iron fang
protruded from the end of the stick, and on looking closely the major
at the end of the spike observed an oblong drop of greenish hue.
The evidence of his own eyes was enough, and Jen replaced the
devil-stick upon the table, with the full conviction that the bag had
been filled with a fresh preparation of its original venom. This
discovery, to the major's mind, confirmed the guilt of the negress.
"What is the matter?" asked Lady Meg, as she saw the major's face grow
dark with his thought. "Is anything wrong?"
"Yes, Dido is wrong," he said. "I always thought that black witch was
at the bottom of everything. I am sure of it now."
"Dido!" repeated Lady Meg, thoughtfully. "I have heard Mr. Alymer and
Mr. Sarby talking about her. A negress, is she not?"
"Yes, and a murderess!"
"Major! Do you think--"
"Certainly I do. I believe she killed Maurice; but the evidence is as
yet too slight upon which to accuse her. If I thought that she--" here
the major checked himself and resumed in an altered tone--"but I must
think of these things later on. In the meantime I must conclude my
examination of this man."
"Do you think he knows anything?"
"No. I believe he found the devil-stick as he says. Within the grounds
of Mrs. Dallas, mind you!"
"Well, and what does that prove?"
"Prove!" retorted Jen sharply, "simply that it was dropped there by
that black fiend after she had killed Maurice."
"Do you really think she killed him?" asked Lady Meg, her face growing
pale with the intensity of her excitement.
"I do," replied Jen, decisively. "But the evidence--ah, the evidence.
Well," he added, after a pause, "I have something to go on, in this
refilled devil-stick, and the saturated handkerchief."
"But I don't understand--"
"Never mind, my dear lady, you will later on," retorted Jen, with a
nod. Then turning to Battersea, he resumed his examination. "You know
the negress. Dido, who is in the employment of Mrs. Dallas?" he asked,
mildly.
"Yes, sir, an' hawful female she is!"
"How so?"
"Well, sir." Battersea scratched his shock head. "She knows things as
ain't good for 'er. 'Bout that devil-stick es you talks of."
"Oh," cried Jen, recalling Dido's denial, "she knows of that, does
she?"
"Yes, sir, she do. Arsked me 'bout it, but I knowed nuffin, I didn't."
"What did she say to you concerning it?"
"Well, sir, when I brought a message from Dr. Etwald 'bout that
devil-stick--"
"What!" cried Jen, interrupting sharply. "Did Dr. Etwald know about it
also?"
"He did, sir. Leastways he arsked me to arsk Dido 'bout it."
"I thought as much," said Jen, in an excited tone. Then after a pause,
he added: "Battersea, would you like free quarters and plenty of food
and drink for a week?"
"I ain't a fool, sir," said the tramp, with a sheepish grin. "I
should, you bet."
"In that case go down to the kitchen and tell my servants from me that
you are to stay there. Later on I'll see you."
"Thankee, sir. I'll get free quarters and grub for a week," cried
Battersea, rubbing his grimy hands. "My eye, 'ere's oppolance. Can I
go now, sir?"
"At once," replied Jen, and pointed to the door. Battersea bowed
awkwardly to Lady Meg and his benefactor; then he went out of the room
and left the major alone with his visitor.
"What does all this mean?" asked Meg, quite surprised at Jen's
excitement.
"Mean!" cried Jen, in a tone of conviction. "Why! that Etwald is mixed
up in this business also!"