THE EVIDENCE OF JAGGARD.
"Etwald!" repeated Lady Meg, thoughtfully. "Is he not the doctor of
whom you have made so great a friend?"
"Yes. I took a viper to my bosom, and it stung me," replied Jen, who,
in his excitement, was pacing backward and forward with hasty steps.
"But I shall be even with him. In some way or another I believe it is
possible to bring home to him this triple crime."
"Do you think he is guilty?"
"I am certain of it. Etwald prophesied to my poor lad, in his
charlatan way, that if he wed Miss Dallas, or even announced his
engagement with her, his fate would be of life in death."
"What did that mean?"
"Mean? Death without the addition of life. That word was brought in
solely to render the prophecy--if it may be called so--confusing.
Etwald was in love with Miss Dallas. He found in Maurice a formidable
rival. He warned him by his pretended prophecy that he should slay him
if he persisted standing in his path. Maurice announced his engagement
upon the very day when Etwald, the designing scoundrel, went to pay
his addresses to the girl. From that moment he doomed Maurice to
death. Yes, I truly believe that such was his design, and that he
offered to buy the devil-stick in order to carry out his criminal
intention."
"Did he ask to buy the devil-stick?" demanded Lady Meg, in surprise.
"Twice; and both times I refused to part with it. Failing to get it
honestly, he stole it."
"You have no proof of that."
"I don't know so much about that," retorted Jen sharply. "You heard
what Battersea confessed, that he had taken a message from Etwald to
Dido about the devil-stick. Well, this doctor has some mysterious,
influence over this negress--what sort of influence I do not know, but
she appears to be afraid of him. I believe he incited her to steal the
devil-stick, and that by his directions she filled it with a fresh
poison."
"But could she prepare the special kind of poison required?"
"Assuredly. She confessed as much. Her grandmother came from Ashantee,
where this devil-stick is used for the purpose of destroying people.
Dido inherits a knowledge of the family secrets, and knows how to make
this poison. It cures nervous headaches--that is, the perfume of it
does--and Dido made some with which she saturated a handkerchief to
bind round the head of her young mistress."
"How do you know that the poisons are the same?"
"From the peculiar, sickly, heavy odor," explained Jen, promptly; and
continued: "Well, you can see the rest for yourself. Dido filled that
devil-stick with the poison," he pointed to the article on the table,
"some of it remains in the wand yet. Etwald used the devil-stick to
kill Maurice, and on going back to tell Dido of his success I have no
doubt he dropped it inside the gates of Mrs. Dallas' grounds, where,
as you have heard, it was found by Battersea. Oh, it is as plain as
day to me," cried Jen, vehemently. "Etwald killed Maurice and stole
the devil-stick to accomplish the murder."
"You have certainly made out a strong case against this man," said
Meg, after a pause, "but it is all theory. Your proofs?"
"I shall find them."
"That will be difficult."
"Doubtless. I hardly anticipated an easy task when I undertook to
learn who killed my dear lad. Besides, David will help me."
Lady Meg sighed, and rising to her feet, she drew her cloak round her
tall form.
"I shall help you also," she said sadly. "That is, if you will accept
of my help."
"Assuredly. You loved Maurice--"
"To my cost, major; but he did not love me. This girl--this Miss
Dallas," she added in a faltering voice, "she must be very lovely, for
Mr. Sarby loves her also. A woman who has three men at her feet must
be wonderful."
Jen shrugged his shoulders.
"She is certainly beautiful," said he, indifferently, "but she is not
clever, and her weak nature is enslaved by the gross superstitions of
Dido."
"I should not think from your description that she was likely to
attract Maurice," said Lady Meg, in a low voice; "but undoubtedly he
loved her dearly; and I--" She made a gesture of despair and moved
toward the door. On the threshold she paused and held out her hand.
"Good-by, major; should I hear anything further I shall let you know.
But the tramp?"
"I shall keep him here."
"Be careful lest he goes away."
"Oh, there is no fear of that," said Jen, in a confident tone. "Free
quarters and plenty of food will keep Battersea in my kitchen. If he
were guilty of the crime, he would not stay, but as it is he will
remain under my eye. I intend to question him further about the
connection between Dido and Etwald; I wonder what power the doctor
holds over the negress."
"You can learn that only from the woman herself."
"Or from Etwald," rejoined Jen. "If I can only succeed in having him
arrested he may confess all."
"Let us hope he will," replied Lady Meg, and after shaking hands again
with Jen, she took her departure.
When the major had seen her carriage drive away he returned to look
after the devil-stick, and examined it long and carefully. Undoubtedly
it had been filled with fresh poison, and undoubtedly the poison, from
the evidence heretofore set forth, had been prepared by Dido. Jen was
more certain than ever that Etwald and the negress had stolen the
devil-stick and had slain Maurice with it. But the theft of the body!
It was that which puzzled him. He could understand why Etwald wanted
Maurice removed from his path. He could explain, on those grounds, why
the devil-stick had been stolen. But what reason could the pair have
for the removal of the body? The poor boy had died, and his corpse
could be of no use to those who had murdered him. Yet it had
disappeared, and the only person who could give any evidence as to who
had entered the room on that fatal night was Jaggard. But up to the
present moment Jaggard had remained incapable of giving any clear
evidence. Absolutely certain that Etwald was guilty, that Dido was an
accomplice, Jen could not see his way to proving his case without the
assistance of Jaggard.
At first he thought of going into Deanminster for the purpose of
speaking with Inspector Arkel about the discovery of the devil-stick;
but upon reflection he deemed it wiser not to do so, at all events
for the present. Arkel could come only to the same conclusion as
himself--namely, that Battersea, innocent of the crime, had picked up
the devil-stick on the grounds of Mrs. Dallas. Regarding his
suspicions of Etwald, the major determined to keep these to himself
until he was in a position to prove them; for if Etwald were guilty,
the slightest hint that the police were on his track would be
sufficient to put him on his guard. Against so clever a man as the
doctor, Arkel, with his clumsy methods, could do nothing. For the
present, therefore, Jen decided to hold his tongue.
While the major was thus considering what step he should take, David,
returning from a long and solitary walk, entered the room. Of late the
young man had indulged in these lonely excursions, whence he always
returned more melancholy than ever. His fine face was lean and worn,
there were dark circles under his eyes, and his manner, formerly noted
for its composure, was now nervous and hesitating. On approaching his
guardian he saw the devil-stick on the table, and at once his pale
face grew yet paler.
"Where did you find it?" he asked, pointing a trembling finger at the
terrible piece of evidence.
"I did not find it at all," rejoined the major, gloomily; "Lady Meg
brought it to me."
"And she--she----"
"She has nothing to do with the matter," replied Jen, surprised at the
agitation of the young man. "It was Battersea who found it. He offered
it for sale to Lady Meg, and she brought it and the tramp to me."
"Battersea!" said David, repeating the name in a puzzled tone. "How
did he become possessed of it? Has he anything to do with the crime?"
"No. He found the devil-stick within the grounds of Mrs. Dallas, near
the gates."
"Who lost it there?" asked Sarby, abruptly.
"Ah!" replied Jen, in a meaning tone. "Tell me that and I'll have the
assassin of our dear Maurice within the walls of Deanminster jail
before the year is twenty-four hours older."
David looked at Jen in astonishment.
"Have you any idea as to the guilty person?" he asked, in a hurried
tone.
"I think so; it is my belief, David, that Dr. Etwald killed Maurice!"
"Impossible! For what reason?"
"Because he wants to marry Isabella Dallas."
"In that case he should rather have killed me than poor Maurice, for,
as my suit to Isabella was supported by Mrs. Dallas, I was the more
formidable rival of the two."
"I don't think so, my boy. Isabella loved Maurice, and to marry him
she would have rebelled against her mother. But I daresay if you
become engaged to her, Etwald will remove you also from his path."
"There will be no need for him to do that," replied David, coldly. "I
shall never marry Isabella."
"What do you say? I thought you loved the girl?"
"I do love her," cried David, vehemently. "I have always loved her,
and shall continue to do so until the day of my death. All the same, I
shall never become her husband."
"Why?"
"For certain reasons!" said Sarby, evasively.
"What are those reasons?"
"I can't tell you."
"Have they anything to do with the death of Maurice?"
"Don't ask me, major. I would tell you if I could, but it is
impossible."
Jen rose to leave the room, more wounded than he chose to confess.
"Of course, my boy," he said rather bitterly, "if you choose to
withhold your confidence from me, I have no right to force you to
speak. All the same as I have been a second father to you, I think you
should be more open with me."
"I would tell you if I could," said David again, but in rather a
sullen manner; "but I have reasons, strong reasons, for not doing so.
Later on--" he paused nervously.
"Well?" demanded Jen, coldly, seeing the hesitation of the man.
"Later on, I may tell you all I know."
"All you know!" repeated Jen, in a startled tone. "About this crime?"
"Yes. I know something, but what it is I dare not tell you now, Uncle
Jen," he added, gravely looking at the elder. "If you are wise, you
will not pursue your inquiry."
"And why not, may I ask, David?"
"Ah!" said Sarby, walking toward the door, "you will know the reason
when you learn the truth!"
After this enigmatical remark he hurriedly left the room, for the
purpose, without doubt, of escaping further questioning. His demeanor
completely puzzled Jen, who could not make out the meaning of his
conversation. Evidently David knew something which he was unwilling to
reveal--something which might lead to the solution of the profound
mystery which enwrapped the death of Maurice and the extraordinary
disappearance of his body.
The more Jen thought about the matter the more perplexed did he
become. The recovered devil-stick, found in the grounds of Mrs.
Dallas, the saturated handkerchief found in the bedroom of the dead
man; and now the unaccountable hints of David that he knew something
likely to throw a light upon these mysteries, joined with an equally
unaccountable refusal to afford such revelation, all these things
puzzled him; but as it was impossible in the absence of actual
knowledge, to come to any reasonable decision, Jen determined to see
Jaggard and see how he was. If Jaggard could only recover his senses,
argued the major, he would be able to say who had stolen the body.
Moreover, in Jen's opinion, the person who committed the second crime
would most probably, by the force of analogous reasoning, have
committed the first.
To the major's surprise, he found that Jaggard had recovered his
senses, and although still weak from his accident and long
insensibility, he was able to talk fairly well. Jen was puzzled by
this sudden--that is, this comparatively sudden--recovery; and he
expressed himself somewhat forcibly to the housemaid Anne, who had
been watching for so long by the bedside of the sick man. The woman,
with the shrewdness of her class, gave her opinion as to its reason.
"Ever since that handkerchief has been removed sir," said she,
earnestly, "Jaggard has got well. I do believe, sir, that the scent on
it kept the poor dear stupid."
Another light was let in on Jen's mind. Here was the handkerchief
again--perfumed with the devil-stick decoction of poison by Dido,
applied by the hand of Etwald, and its design was evidently to keep
Jaggard in a state of stupor and prevent him from, making dangerous
disclosures. Dido and Etwald once more in partnership. Jen was more
convinced than ever that the pair were at the bottom of the whole
terrible affair.
"I am glad to see that you are better, Jaggard," he said, while
standing by the bed.
"Yes, sir, thank you, sir," replied the man, in a weak voice. "I'm
sorry, sir, but I couldn't help myself. I was drugged, sir."
"I guessed as much," said Jen, grimly. "And who drugged you?"
"That black devil, Dido, sir," replied Jaggard, faintly.
"I guessed as much," said the major once more.