THE TROUBLE OF LOLA
It was four o'clock when George left Bawdsey. The two had spoken
little of the newspaper paragraph which informed them of Lola's
escapade. Although her name was not mentioned there was no doubt in
the mind of Brendon that she was the culprit. The newspaper gave the
year of the book when the sheet was torn, and that corresponded to the
year when Percy Vane married--or had been supposed to marry--Rosina
Lockwood. And this was the explanation of Lola's absence from town.
She had not fled from the rebuke of Brendon, but had gone to do him an
injury by destroying the evidence of his parents' marriage. This
finally was the meaning of her wild threat to Dorothy. By preventing
George from proving his legitimacy, Lola hoped to put a final end to
his chance of making Miss Ward his wife.
Bawdsey was much upset over the news. He would have flown immediately
to Wargrove, but some special business kept him in town. However, he
purposed to go the next morning by the first train. Bawdsey did not
think that Brendon had sufficient interest in Lola to go down to
Wargrove at once. But George was going that very day, all the same.
Lola could not have known that his parents had been married at
Wargrove without having seen Mrs. Jersey's confession wherein the fact
was probably mentioned.. Therefore she must have obtained the
confession in some way. How she achieved this, George could not
conjecture. Then he thought of Lola's hot Spanish blood, of the
stiletto--a peculiarly foreign weapon--and shuddered. It occurred to
him that Lola herself must have stabbed the woman.
However, he put this thought aside for the moment and set about
getting to Wargrove. On consulting an A. B. C. he found that a train
left Liverpool Street Station for Southend at ten minutes past five,
and that Wargrove was a tiny rural town which could be reached in an
hour. Ever quick and expeditious in his movements, George had entered
a Strand shop to buy the railway guide, and, having ascertained about
the train, he simply stepped into his cab and ordered the man to drive
to Liverpool Street. At the appointed time he was on his way down the
country.
This precipitancy of action was due to a dread lest Bawdsey should
change his mind and see Lola, first. Certainly the detective had
spoken frankly, and his conduct appeared to be dictated by sentiments
of honor. Nevertheless, George felt that Bawdsey was playing a part
and that this apparent honesty was not his real character. It behooved
him to be on his guard against him; and to know as much about the
death of Mrs. Jersey as Bawdsey did, so as to able to counterplot him
if necessary. From the fact that she was in Wargrove, Lola evidently
had possession of the confession. If Bawdsey saw her he would
doubtless try and get it from her, to learn the name of Percy Vane's
assassin. George wished therefore to forestall Bawdsey, and to make
Lola surrender the confession--always presuming she had it--to
himself. For this reason he departed quickly for Wargrove. At the
Liverpool Street Station he examined all the passengers as they
entered the train. Bawdsey did not put in an appearance, and as the
next train would not depart for another two hours George felt that he
had stolen a march on the detective. Bawdsey would never think that he
had acted with such promptitude.
It was a dull journey, as Brendon was worried by a commercial traveler
who would talk politics. George put him off as civilly as possible,
and finally turned his prattle--for it was little else--to his own
advantage by asking for the whereabouts of Wargrove. It seemed that
the new town of Wargrove was the place where the train stopped, but
Old Wargrove was three miles distant, and it was there that the parish
church was situated. The commercial traveler followed up this
information with many details concerning the manners and customs of
the natives, which bored George to distraction. However, he listened
quietly, and paid as little attention as was consistent with
politeness. His officious companion watched for the station, and
roared out the name when the train stopped. George thanked him and
alighted, glad to be relieved of such a weary talker. And till the
train was moving the man leaned out of the window shouting directions
as to the best way to reach Old Wargrove.
As it proved there was no necessity for George to go there. Lola was
stopping in the policeman's house prior to her removal to the prison
at Chelmsford. Her attempt at robbery had been committed on the
previous day, and Brendon thought she would have already been removed.
However, he was informed that there was some delay owing to the
illness of the Chelmsford inspector, and therefore Lola would have to
remain in Wargrove for another twelve hours. Brendon was glad to hear
this, as it would save him a long journey. He thanked the policeman
who had explained, and was directed by the man to the house of his
superior officer, which was on the outskirts of the town. George soon
found a semi-detached house with a notice on it, and on knocking at
the door explained his errand to a brisk little woman. She pursed up
her lips, looked inquisitively at him with bright eyes, and called her
husband. The policeman was a burly, slow-witted, fat man who seemed
nervous on being asked for a sight of the prisoner, for such Lola was
to all intents and purposes. He did not want to exceed his duty.
George produced a sovereign, but the official, although his eyes
twinkled, hesitated to take the bribe. It was then that Mrs. Policeman
came to Brendon's assistance.
"Nonsense, Jeremiah," she said briskly. "Let the young gentleman see
his young lady. She's dying to have a sight of him."
"How do you know that she is my young lady?" asked George.
Mrs. Policeman nodded with her arms akimbo. "Why she's been crying out
in that foreign way of hers for George--George----"
"That is my name certainly."
"And you are her gentleman. She told me what you were like, and cried
all the time, poor soul. Tall, fair, with eyes of blue."
"It's all very well," grumbled Jeremiah. "But 'tis against the law."
"You can be present at our interview if you like."
"There, Jeremiah, you can't have the gentleman saying fairer than
that." Here the sharp little woman nudged her husband's arms. This was
a hint for him to swallow his scruples and take the sovereign.
Jeremiah agreed, and shortly the sovereign was in his pocket and he
was leading George to a back upstairs room.
"We'd have put her in the best parlor," he said, "as I always like to
make 'em comfortable. But she'd have run away, so we was obliged to
keep her in the room with the bars on the window."
"Poor Lola," thought George, as he conjured up the small stuffy room
and the barred window.
But the room was not so comfortless as Jeremiah stated, thanks to Mrs.
Policeman. It was small, certainly, but it was neatly furnished as a
bed-sitting-room. The window was certainly barred, but there was no
other sign that it was a prison cell. Before introducing George to
this abode, it struck Jeremiah that the prisoner had been inquired for
as "the young lady." He stopped Brendon at the door. "Might you know
her name, sir?"
"Of course I know it," replied George, promptly. "Don't you?"
"Now I do," said Jeremiah, with a heavy nod, "but it was a rare time
afore she'd speak. My missus got it out of her. Loler Veal it is, she
says, and she's by way of being on the stage."
"She is the most celebrated dancer in London, and her name is Lola
Velez," said George. "I don't suppose she'll be punished much for
this. She's mad at times."
"Oh, if she's mad she'll get off lightly, but them parish register to
be torn--it's bad work that. My father were a sexton," explained
Jeremiah, soberly.
"And naturally you think Mademoiselle Velez has committed the most
atrocious of crimes. But don't stand chattering here, my good fellow.
I have to return by the nine train."
"I'll wait outside," said Jeremiah, on whom Brendon's generosity and
peremptory manner had made an impression, "but you won't give her
poison, or knives, or that, sir?"
George laughed. "No. She is the last person to use them if I did
supply her with such articles."
"She's a lively young woman," said the policeman, and slowly unlocked
the door. George was admitted, and then Jeremiah, so as to give the
lovers--as he thought them--an opportunity of meeting unobserved,
retired, locking the door after him. Lola and George were together.
She was seated by the window staring out into the darkness. On the
table was a small lamp, and a fire burned in the grate. Lola started
up when the door closed again. "Who is--who is?" she asked in her
rapid way, and came toward him.
"Lola," began George, but he got no further. She ran forward and flung
herself with tears at his feet, clutching his legs and wailing:
"Oh, my dear one, hast thou come in anger? Trample me, make me as
earth, beloved, but be not enraged--ah, no--ah, no!"
"Lola. Get up and don't be a fool," said Brendon, speaking roughly to
brace her nerves.
She rose, sobbing, and crept to a chair in a slinking manner, quite
unlike her usual free grace. She did not raise her eyes, and George
was pained to see the change. Badly as she had acted, he felt sorry at
beholding her depressed, and like a sick beast in confinement.
"Lola," he said, taking a chair near her, "I have come as your
friend."
"Not in anger--ah, but yes, in anger."
"I am not angry. I am very sorry."
"Ah, but in your eyes--they sparkle. I see Mees Vards. I do try to
steal the church books. You are furiously enraged."
"Look at me and see."
But Lola would not, so George took her chin and made her gaze directly
into his eyes. Lola's were filled with tears, but after a time she
began to smile. "Ah, you are not enraged, it was for you I did it. I
wish my dear George to myself--all--all."
"You know that is impossible."
"But it is not. I will have you."
"Not at all," said George, deliberately. "You will marry Bawdsey."
"That pig--cow, horrible and miserable. _Non. Ah, non!_" She sprang
to her feet. "_Jamais. Ah grand jamais!_ I do swear," and producing a
small black crucifix from her dress she kissed it vehemently.
She was a most impossible person to deal with, being as wild as a
tigress and as impulsive as a child. George made her resume her seat,
and drew his chair close to her. Much delighted, Lola took his hand
within her own and looked at him affectionately. Brendon did not like
the position at all, but it was necessary to humor Lola if he wished
to arrive at the truth. He spoke to her very directly.
"Now, Lola, I wish you to tell me the truth."
"Ah, but I will. When you are kindness I tell you all."
"Do you know that you have done a wrong thing?"
"Pschutt," she said contemptuously. "I give that old mans knocks on
the heads, but he is alive. Oh, yes, I did not kill him.
"I don't mean the assault, though that is bad enough. But your trying
to destroy the register of the marriage.
"It is your fault," cried Lola, impetuously. "For loves of my George I
did so. I wish you not to marry any but me."
"We can talk of that later, Lola. Answer me a few questions, and make
no remarks."
"I will do what you say, my friend," said Lola, nodding. George
thought for a moment. "How did you learn that Wargrove was the place
where my parents were married?"
"I tell not that--indeed, I will not. It is my businesses."
"Mine also. You must tell."
"But I will not."
"For my sake, Lola."
"Ah, you want to know all, and then trick me. I will not tell."
"Then I will explain to you."
"Aha, you cannots--you know nothings at all. Pah! La, la, la, la."
George spoke sternly. "Lola, I know more than you give me credit for.
I have seen the dagger."
This time he struck home, for she started. "What dagger?"
"The stiletto you left in Mrs. Jersey's room."
"I did nothings. I was not there."
"Yes you were. For all I know you may have killed the woman."
"But it is foolish you talk, George. I did not. She was
frightened--oh, very much afraid."
"So much that she gave you the confession you asked for?"
"Ah, yes--yes--yes," cried Lola, then seeing she had betrayed herself,
she began to be alarmed. "Ah, you will say nothing. I would not tell
anys but my George. He loves me. He will not see me dead."
"Good heavens, Lola, did you kill the woman?"
"That fat ladys in black silk? Ah, no, I did not. But she was so
afraid of the knife."
"You left her alive on that night?"
"Why, yes, my George. We part--oh, such good friends." Lola blew a
kiss from her finger-tips. "She quite pleased, immense!"
"Well, Lola, as you have told so much, you must tell me all."
"There is nothing to say," she replied, turning sullen.
George rose. "Then I shall go away," he declared. "I came here to be
your friend, Lola, and to save you from getting into further trouble.
But if you will not be candid--" He moved to the door.
"What is candids? I know not, George." She sprang to her feet. "Ah, my
heart, do not go. Soul of my soul, leave me not. I will do anythings
what you ask of me."
"Then tell me the whole story of your visit to Mrs. Jersey."
"But you will marry Mees Vard!"
"I do that in any case. See here, Lola," he added artfully, "this
marriage register which you wish to destroy does not matter now. My
grandfather has acknowledged me as his heir."
She looked at him with wide eyes and pale cheeks. "And you will be
milor--you will marry Mees Vard--you will--you will--" Her mouth began
to work piteously like a child being reproved.
"I will always be your friend, Lola!"
"You will marry Mees Vard?" she persisted.
"Lola," he took her hand, "if we married we would never be happy. I
and you are different people. Do you wish to see me happy?"
"Ah, yes--if I die I would have you happy," she sobbed.
"Then allow me to marry Miss Ward, and give me up."
"Ah, but it is asking much--always too much."
"Well," said George, a trifle cruelly, "you offered to die for me just
now, yet to see me happy you won't deny yourself anything."
"Yes--yes--but it is all so quick, my dear. Give times--oh, give times
till I become used." She sobbed for a moment, then dried her eyes and
sat down briskly. "I am ready, my George. You shall be happy, but you
must not forget poor Lola--ah, no!"
"Of course not," replied George, patting her hand. "Now tell me the
story. Wait. Was it you mother who told you of my father's death?"
"Yes," assented Lola. "She often talked of your fathers,"
"I heard she was in love with him," said George, slowly.
Lola shrugged her shapely shoulders. "That I know not. My dear mother
was handsome--oh, yes, and dark, and fond of gayness. She might have
loved--eh--it is not impossibles."
"Did she ever hint who killed my father?"
Lola shook her head. "No. Never did she say anythings. He was found
dead--stabbed--" she made a gesture, "that was all--all!"
Evidently she could tell him nothing, so George reverted to more
immediate matters. "How about that night? You knew that I was going to
Mrs. Jersey's on that night?"
"Ah, but yes. You did tell me."
"Then what made you come also? Was it to see me?"
Lola put her finger in her mouth and looked down. "No, my George. I
did want that confessions of the fat old lady, to stop you being
milor, and then I thought you would marry only poor Lola."
"How did you know about the confession?"
"That pig-man told me."
"Bawdsey? Why did he tell you?"
"Pschutt!" said Lola, contemptuously. "He loves me so, I can twist and
twist him so," she made a rapid motion with her fingers. "We did talk
of the death of your fathers. I lamented that my poor mother did loves
your fathers unhappily, as I did love you. And I was enraged to think
that your fathers had died. I did ask Bawdsey who made the stab--gave
the death?--eh, it is, so I asked," she added, nodding. "He could not
say, but he declares that Mrs.--what you call her--eh, but my friend,
Mrs.----"
"Mrs. Jersey. Bawdsey declared that she knew?" Lola nodded. "It was
so," she assented. "Mrs.--what you call that fat ladys--she write out
all she know,--of your father's death and of his marriages. I say to
myself that I would get that confession and learn where the marriage
was made. Then I would burn the book that no one might learn. After I
would say to you, that I could tell who killed your father if you made
me madame your wife."
"That's a very pretty plot," said Brendon, not knowing whether to be
angry with her wrong-doing or touched by a love that to gain him would
not hesitate to commit a crime. "So far you have carried it out. You
have the confession----"
Lola put her hand on her breast. "He is here," she said, nodding. "I
carries him always--always!"
"Give it to me, Lola."
Her eyes opened in wide alarm. "Ah, no, you will not ask me. I keep
him to myself all."
George saw that the moment was not propitious. But he was determined
to get the confession before he left her. However, he begged her to
continue her story. "How did you know the house?" he asked.
"It was the scarlet windows----"
"I remember. Bawdsey gave you that for guide."
"Bah! He knew not I was going," said Lola with a shrug. "I got out of
him the fool-man all that I did want. I thought I would get to the fat
ladys on the night you were with her, that I might have you for helps
if she was enraged."
"It seems to me that you protected yourself very well."
"With the daggers--oh, yes. I said to myself that if my George did not
come for the fogs, that Mrs.--what you say--Jarsey, oh, yes, would be
enraged, and I would have trouble. I took the stiletto to save
myself."
"How did you get into the house?"
"Wait, ah, wait! I did not dance all that night. I said I was ill and
I came aways. I took the daggers and a cloak, and I went to the
Square--it is not far from my houses----"
"No. You just turn the corner of the street," said Brendon. "Well?"
"I walked by the walls. It was after ten o'clocks. I walk round and
round the Squares, and I then see a red lights. The door open--it was
open, and many people came out of the houses. The fat lady was on the
steps waving her hands--so--" Lola waved her hand. "A crowd was
around. I came into the crowd, and when the fat lady was down shaking
with the handshake, I did slip into the house."
"That was clever of you," said George, wondering at the dexterity with
which Lola had managed to enter without exciting suspicion. "And then
what did you do? Did you meet any one?"
"Ah, but no. I ran into a place; there was a room with a light, and
that I did go into----"
"Mrs. Jersey's sitting-room," murmured George. "Yes?"
"I was afraid to be thrown out, my dear, and I hided behind a curtain
of the window. The fat lady she did come in and close the door. She
talked to herself of Lord Derrington coming, and did seem enraged at
him wishing to come--you understand?"
"Yes. What then?"
"A leetle boy did come in with wine and cakes. She did send him away,
being angry, and did close the door. She took from a box----"
"A green box, Lola?"
"Yes, a green box--she did take a blue--what you, call--paper."
"A blue envelope?"
"Ah, yes, it is so, and she looked at a paper--a white paper she took
from the envelope. She laughed, and said that milor would love to have
this. I say to myself behind the curtains: It is the confessions, I
will have it. Then she did put it in the envelopes and leave it on the
tables. It was near me. I could steal----"
"And you did!" said George, impatiently.
"But no, my George. I did try, and madame she saw my arm. With a cry
she leap to the doors. I come out and, say that I wish to talk of the
deaths of Monsieur Vanes. She turns most white, and did not cry no
more. Then she ask me what I want----"
"You needn't tell all in detail, Lola. Be as short as possible."
"Oh, well--but yes, assuredly. I told madame I was of San Remo, and
did talk of my dear mother, and of her love for Monsieur Vane. But
this pig-womans insult my mother. I become enraged, I bring my dagger
and wave it so--" again Lola made a dramatic gesture. "I say that I
kill her. She fall on her knees and hide her face. Then I did take the
confessions out of the blue envelopes and hide it----"
"That was very clever of you, Lola. Did Mrs. Jersey see?"
"Ah, but no she did not. I take it when she was with the eyes covered.
Then having all what I was desired, and seeing her so afraid, I had
the contempt look you. I say, 'There, there,' and I throw the dagger
at her feets. Then I go to the door and say I would depart. She beg me
to stop. I did stop, and we talk of San Remo, and of my mother. I say
that you were my love, and that Monsieur Vane was the father of
you----"
"Then she knew who I was on that night?"
"Ah, yes, but she did. I say you wish to see her the next day. She
say, 'I will tell him nothing, and now go, for I have to see a great
gentlemans.' I was quite happy."
"Did she not miss the confession?"
"No! I said nothing of wanting that. It was in my pocket. The blue
envelope was on the table. She never thought but what it was within,
Then she ask me to say nothing to any one about San Remo, and we part
quite happy. She allowed me out of the door, and closed it again, oh,
so softly. I saw her no more."
"You left the dagger behind?"
"It was on the floors where I threw it. I wished to get away with the
confessions, lest she should call me thieves. I did not wait for to
take the dagger. I departed. That is all."
"Humph!" said George. The story seemed likely enough. After letting
Lola out of the house, Mrs. Jersey then came to see if he and Train
were in bed. Expecting Lord Derrington, and knowing from Lola who he
was, she no doubt expected George to interrupt the interview. But
finding him--as she thought in bed--she departed satisfied. Then she
met Margery, and after locking her in her room, went down to meet her
death. It was eleven when all this happened, and Bawdsey in the coat
of Lord Derrington arrived close upon twelve. Therefore, as Lola left
Mrs. Jersey alive and Bawdsey found her dead, she must have been
killed in the interval, and whomsoever had done this had used the
dagger left by Lola.
However, George had learned all he wished to know in the mean time,
and it only remained to get the confession from Lola. She refused to
give it up. George entreated, cajoled, stormed, insisted, she still
held out. "No, I will not, I will not," she kept saying.
Finally he hit on a solution of the difficulty. "If you do not give it
to me it will be taken from you when you go to prison."
"Ah, but will it?" cried Lola, wide-eyed with alarm.
"Certainly, and will probably be published in the papers. Keep it if
you like, Lola, but don't blame me if you get into trouble over it. I
assure you if you keep it they will take it."
Lola pulled a white packet from her breast, and ran with it to the
fire. "They will not have it. I burn--I burn," and she threw the
papers on the fire. George shot past her, snatched them out before
they could catch alight, and thrust them into his pocket. Lola turned
on him like a tigress, and he thought she would strike him. She seemed
inclined to do so. Then unexpectedly she threw up her arms and fell
into a chair weeping. "It is the end--you love me no more--we part--we
part. The confessions will part us, all--all, alas!"