A TRAGEDY.
Mrs. Jennings' news was so startling that Gerald could only fall back
on his pillow and stare at her excited face. Pleased with the effect
which she produced, like all gossips, she continued rapidly to
explain, breathlessly.
"The milkman's master--Evans is his name--went at seven this morning
with the milk to the Pixy's House. Miss Bellaria always came to the
gate and opened it to take the milk in. He found the gate wide open,
and Miss Bellaria lying on the path within the grounds, stabbed to the
heart, and as dead as a stone. Evans gave the alarm in the village,
and many people went into the grounds and up to examine the house.
They found no one there: that poor lunatic was gone. Evans sent on his
man to tell the police here, and he came in for a drink. I had the
whole story out of him. Isn't it dreadful, sir? To think that we
should have been talking of that crazy Meg only yesterday, and that
she should commit so dreadful a crime."
"Stop," said Gerald sharply, and somewhat recovering himself, "you
cannot say if Miss Durham is guilty."
Mrs. Jennings gaped. "Not say she is guilty! Why, sir, if she isn't,
who can be? It's well known that Miss Durham, as you call her, sir,
always wanted to kill people, and that was why she was shut up. Not
being able to get at another person, she has murdered poor Miss
Bellaria, who watched her, and then ran away--to murder again, I
suppose. Oh, how very dreadful it all is! When I said yesterday that
we might be murdered in our beds, I little thought that we should be."
"Nonsense, nonsense!"
"Begging your pardon, sir, but it's gospel truth that I am speaking,"
said the landlady, bristling, "with a lunatic at large one never knows
what may happen. The police inspector--and a very nice man he is--has
already sent to Denleigh asking Major Rebb to go to Leegarth. Everyone
is talking about things with blood and slaughter in them. And I ask
your pardon, sir, for having come into your bedroom, but I thought you
would like to know. Oh, dear me! dear me!" Mrs. Jennings wrung her
plump hands and retreated towards the door, in a flurried condition.
"I'll bolt and bar every window and door at sunset: no murders for
me."
Having babbled herself out of the room, she banged the door, and
Haskins, sitting up in bed, placed his hands on either side of his
head, to think matters over. He found it difficult to believe the
news, and yet he might have expected to hear something of this sort.
Of course he was absolutely certain that Mavis was innocent: but he
could not understand why she had run away, nor could he guess who had
slain the unfortunate Italian. Quite unable to eat his breakfast
because of the intelligence, he jumped out of bed, and into the
hip-bath which was in the centre of the room. The sooner he went
downstairs and learned all that could be learned the better able would
he be to see his way. If Mavis had been in danger from Major Rebb
before, she was now in greater danger than ever, as he assuredly would
use her assumed guilt to prevent her inheriting the money.
"Nothing will make anyone believe that Mavis is other than guilty,"
was the young man's soliloquy: "her crazy reputation is enough. If she
is caught, they will shut her up in an asylum, notwithstanding the
denial she is sure to make. Then Rebb will be able to keep the money,
according to the strict letter of the will. And yet--and yet----" He
clenched his fist. "I believe that Rebb himself is guilty of the
crime."
He had really no reason to make such an accusation: but the happening
of the crime was so opportune for the Major that it did not seem
entirely impossible for him to have had a hand in it. Assuredly he
might not have struck the blow himself, but the unscrupulous Geary
could easily have been employed to remove Bellaria. Not that Rebb, on
the face of it, would wish to lose so useful a servant, but if it was
necessary that Mavis should be accused of murder, to ensure her being
placed in an asylum, Bellaria was the nearest and most natural victim.
But these arguments were futile, as Gerald reflected while dressing,
for he did not know exactly what had taken place. It was necessary to
learn when the crime had been committed; where the body had been
found--the precise spot, that is--and, if possible, to discover the
weapon which had been used. If the yellow-handled knife was picked up
anywhere near the corpse the presumption would be that Geary had
killed the woman, although Mrs. Jennings had made no report of this.
But the thought recalled to Haskins' mind the attack made upon him by
the negro on the previous night. A knife had been used then, and he
had it in the pocket of the suit he had worn. On looking at it again
he saw what had struck him before, that the handle of this particular
weapon was black, and not yellow. What then had become of the famous
sacrificial knife, of which Mavis had spoken? Why should Geary not
have used this when striving to murder Gerald? That question could
only be answered when the yellow-handled knife was found.
Haskins could not wear the flannels in which he had been attacked, as
they were smeared all over with oil from Geary's body, He therefore
flung this suit into his portmanteau, and, as the day promised to be
extremely hot, dressed himself in white drill. Thus clothed, although
far from being in his right mind, by reason of inward perturbation, he
descended, to find the hotel seething with excitement.
Everyone was talking of the Leegarth tragedy, as such an event had
never before startled the somnolent town. The bar was crowded with
idlers, and Mr. Evans' messenger was being supplied with as much drink
as he could swallow. However, he was yet sober enough to answer the
few questions which Haskins put to him. No weapon had been found; the
police had gone to Leegarth; the guilt of Miss Durham was certain; she
had vanished, and search was being made; wires had been sent far and
wide ordering her arrest; policemen were scouring the countryside on
bicycles; sooner or later the murderess would be captured and everyone
would be relieved. So the man babbled on, and, having learned all that
was possible, Gerald went to hire a bicycle in order to proceed to
Leegarth.
He did not feel the least hungry, for obvious reasons, but as he had a
long and exhausting day before him he was wise enough to force himself
to eat and drink. Thus fortified he rode up the steep Silbury High
Street, and into the surrounding country. So rapid was his pace, and
so eager was he to learn the best or the worst at once, that in a
marvelously short time he found himself before the high wall which
girdled the Pixy's House and its park. In this wall double gates of
rough iron were set, but the grounds could not be seen from the lane
as boards had been placed across the bars to prevent anyone looking
in. This had been done--as Gerald learned from a chatty villager--many
years before, when the crazy girl and her dead watcher had come to
live there.
Policemen guarded the gates, and preserved order amongst the rapidly
increasing crowd, which augmented every minute. The terrible news had
traveled with lightning speed, and from far and wide came all who were
possessed of morbid curiosity. The police were expected from Exeter,
and in the meanwhile Inspector Morgan of Silbury was within the
grounds, searching round. Major Rebb had not yet arrived.
On learning this latter fact, Haskins at once demanded admission, so
that he might interview Morgan. When Rebb came, he knew well that it
would not be possible to meddle with the case, as the Major would
insist that he had nothing to do with it. But, in order to discover
any evidence that might be suppressed by Rebb--should he or Geary be
guilty--Haskins made up his mind to examine as much into the matter on
the spot as would be permitted to him. After sending in his request he
received a reply in a few minutes, and this led to his being conducted
by a young constable through the jealously guarded gates, and into the
presence of the inspector. Morgan was standing on the lawn, drawing a
plan of the grounds, and several policemen were beating about the long
grass, searching for something.
"Have they found the knife?" asked Gerald, coming up swiftly.
Morgan looked at him keenly. He was a tall and burly man, with a red
face and white hair, apparently easygoing and tolerant, who would not
be difficult to manage if treated diplomatically. Nevertheless he
resented Haskins' abrupt question with stiff official dignity. "May I
ask who you are, sir?" he demanded.
Gerald pointed to the card which the inspector held. "My name is
there, Mr. Inspector. I came here because I am interested in the
case."
"On what grounds? For what reason?" questioned Morgan, still stiffly.
Haskins did not hesitate. On the way hither he had resolved to be
absolutely frank, if frankness were necessary. To deliver Mavis from
her dangerous position he would have to give some reason for
championing her, and--having regard to the searching examinations of
the law--he deemed it best to tell the absolute truth. If he did not,
Rebb might possibly make some use of his knowledge of the secret
visits to get him into trouble. He therefore cast his bombshell
boldly. "I am engaged to marry Miss Durham," he stated slowly.
Morgan, in spite of official phlegm, dropped his pocketbook in sheer
amazement, and two constables, who overheard, looked round with
expressions of blank astonishment. "What do you mean, sir?" stuttered
the inspector, growing redder than ever. "Are you making a fool of me?
Miss Durham was mad: she could not be engaged to anyone."
"Miss Durham was perfectly sane, as I am prepared to swear, and to
prove my belief in her sanity I am willing to make her my wife."
"A murderess?"
"She is not a murderess. Whomsoever killed that unfortunate Bellaria
Dondi, the poor girl who was shut up here is at least innocent."
"Dear! dear! dear!" Morgan scratched his head, and looked bewildered.
"I never came across anything so extraordinary in my life. If Miss
Durham was shut up here--and everyone knows that she was strictly
guarded on account of her mania--how came you to see her?"
"In a rather peculiar way, Mr. Inspector, but what I tell you can be
substantiated by my friend and legal adviser, Mr. Ian Roy Macandrew."
And after thus guarding himself from the tale being received with
disbelief Gerald detailed the finding of the cylinder, and his
subsequent dealings with the matter.
Morgan gaped and stared, not knowing what to make of so extraordinary
a story. "Then this young lady was not crazy?"
"No," said Gerald positively. "I am certain she was in complete
possession of her senses."
"Then why was she shut up?"
"You had better ask Major Rebb that," said Haskins dryly, "he will be
here soon. In proof of the truth of my story, you can look for the
canoe, which is hidden in the undergrowth on the other side of the
pool below the river wall."
Morgan nodded, with his pale blue eyes fixed on the speaker. "Do you
know anything of this murder?" he asked pointedly.
Gerald laughed shortly. "Are you going to accuse me?" he demanded.
"Certainly not, Mr. Haskins; certainly not. But, seeing that your
canoe is near the house, and you confess to having paid secret visits."
"I understand." Gerald cut him short. "People will talk. Let them. I
can prove an alibi with the help of Mrs. Jennings and three or four of
her servants. I slept last night at the Prince's Head, Silbury, and
was in bed a few minutes after ten. By the way, can you tell me when
this crime was committed?"
"The doctor who examined the poor woman's body states that she
was stabbed--so far as he can ascertain from the condition of the
corpse--somewhere about twelve o'clock: say at midnight."
"Where?"
Morgan indicated a spot, stained with blood--it had soaked into the
graveled path--some little distance away. "Yonder, Mr. Haskins. I
judge from this that Miss Bellaria, as she is called hereabouts, came
to open the gate to someone--the assassin, no doubt--and then she was
stabbed to the heart before she could make an outcry. The doctor
declares that death must have taken place almost instantaneously."
"Humph," said Gerald swiftly. "I see then that you exonerate Miss
Durham, seeing that you say Bellaria was summoned to the gate by the
assassin."
"Yes and no, Mr. Haskins," said the inspector stolidly, "according to
what you say, this young lady was sane: that has yet to be proved. It
is quite likely that for once she may have gone out."
"No, no; she had no wish to go out."
"You seem to know a great deal about the young lady's intentions,"
said Inspector Morgan, a trifle dryly. "Well then, she may have
followed Miss Bellaria into the garden, and, after stabbing her, may
have opened the gates and got away."
"Miss Bellaria never came into the garden at night," said Gerald
quickly; "she told me herself that she was afraid of something."
"What was she afraid of?" asked Morgan sharply.
"I can't exactly tell you," replied the young man, who did not wish to
say too much about the Tána Society, lest Mrs. Crosbie, who owned the
coral pin, might be implicated, "but Bellaria hinted that she was
afraid, and Miss Durham told me that her nurse would never venture out
after dark. Why, then, should she have come to the gate?"
Morgan reflected, and pulled his white moustache. "Probably Miss
Durham was seized with a mania for killing and chased her nurse
through the house. Miss Bellaria would then run into the garden to
escape, and so was struck down on the very threshold of yonder gate. I
daresay she was trying to get out and summon assistance from the
village."
"You make out a very pretty case against Miss Durham, Mr. Inspector."
Morgan would have replied, but at this moment one of the constables
who had been hunting in the long grass on the left hand of the gate
cried out triumphantly, and held up a knife. "Here it is, sir," he
said.
In another moment Morgan was holding in his hand a yellow-handled
knife, of a very deadly description, which had bloodstains on the
blade.
"I see," said the officer gravely, "this is undoubtedly the weapon
used. It seems to me that the woman was stabbed, and then the
assassin--Miss Durham, for a thousand--flung the knife aside into that
long grass, before running away. Very natural, very natural; she would
not care to carry with her such evidence of her guilt."
"Guilt which has yet to be proved," said Gerald hotly.
An argument ensued, in which Haskins decidedly got the worst. The
inspector, and indeed everyone else, scouted the idea of Mavis'
innocence. She had pursued Bellaria to the gates and, having killed
her, had got rid of the knife by flinging it into the long grass. Then
she had fled, not daring to face the consequences of her crime. "In
which case," cried Gerald furiously, "she must be sane. A madwoman
would not be afraid to remain, being ignorant of the heinousness of
the offence."
Morgan shook his head, still unconvinced. And indeed Gerald saw that
things looked very black indeed against the girl he loved. It was on
the tip of his tongue to denounce Geary as the owner of the knife: but
he could not prove this without the evidence of Mavis, and moreover he
thought it wiser to keep silent as to his suspicions until he
consulted Macandrew and could get legal advice. The situation was too
dangerous to be dealt with hurriedly.
Later in the day Major Rebb arrived, and heard from Inspector Morgan
all about the crime. He viewed the body of the poor woman and examined
the knife, which he either failed to recognize or, if he did, decided
to keep silence as to its ownership. He stated that he had seen his
ward about four o'clock on the previous day, and that she was then in
an excited condition. But, not thinking she would venture to commit a
crime, he had gone back to the Devon Maid at Denleigh, and there had
retired to rest at nine o'clock. Geary, the landlord of the inn, had
also been with the Major nearly all the evening, and had likewise
retired to bed early, as while handling a pistol he had managed to
shoot himself in the right arm. The simple-minded inspector heard all
this with an air of belief, and did not inquire--as he should have
done--why Major Rebb should take such trouble to explain the movements
of his landlord, or why that landlord had managed to shoot himself so
dexterously in the right arm. And, while speaking, Rebb frequently
glanced at Gerald, who was present, expecting contradiction, no doubt.
When Morgan had taken notes of the Major's evidence, that military
gentleman beckoned to Haskins, and together they went into the room
which the missing girl had used. It was comfortably and even
luxuriously furnished, and Gerald, casting swift glances around, never
doubted but that the Major--either out of diplomacy, or because he was
conscience-stricken--had treated his prisoner with every
consideration. When the door was closed, Rebb looked searchingly at
his unwelcome visitor.
"Well, Haskins," he inquired, "and what do you mean to do now?"
"I shall let you know that later," retorted Gerald quickly.
"You must be certain now, at all events," pursued the Major calmly,
"that Mavis is insane. No one but a madwoman would have stabbed
Bellaria."
"How dare you say that when you know perfectly well that Mavis is
innocent?"
"Indeed, Haskins, then who is guilty?"
"I should like you to tell me that," said Gerald significantly.
Rebb gave a short laugh. "Are you going to accuse me?" he remarked,
much in the same manner as Haskins himself had spoken earlier to
Morgan.
"You know best."
"Don't be a fool, Haskins," said Rebb, flushing, and very roughly;
"considering the circumstances of the case, and what you--on false
premises--are ready to do, would I be such an idiot as to kill
Bellaria?"
"Yes," said Gerald dryly, "you knew that I would move heaven and earth
to prove Mavis' sanity so that I could marry her. Therefore, in order
that her homicidal mania could be proved beyond all doubt, you had
Bellaria killed and Mavis taken away. If she cannot prove her
innocence--and I can guess how difficult it will be for her to do
so--you will then have her put into an asylum, and enjoy her money for
the rest of your life. It's a very pretty plot, Major Rebb."
"I agree with you there, Haskins. It does credit to your imagination
as a writer of fiction. But I am glad to see that you do not accuse me
of murdering Bellaria myself."
"No, I do not: you are too cunning to risk your own neck," said Gerald
decidedly, "you remained in the inn to prove an alibi. I believe that,
but you sent Geary here to kill Bellaria, for the reasons that I have
given you. Don't deny it, Rebb. The yellow-handled knife which belongs
to Geary is in Morgan's possession."
"Does he know that it is Geary's?" asked Rebb anxiously.
"No. But I shall tell him so."
"You can spare yourself the trouble. I shall tell him myself. The
knife does belong to Geary, as both I and his wife and half-a-dozen
other people can prove. He gave it to Bellaria, because she asked for
a weapon to defend herself. Probably Mavis wrenched the knife from her
at the gate and then----"
"A very ingenious explanation. But I believe Geary to be guilty. He
would stick at nothing, as I know from the way in which he tried to
kill me last night by your orders."
"Pardon me," said Rebb, not at all taken aback, "Geary attacked you
because you were trying to injure me. He overheard our conversation as
he returned from this place sooner than he expected. The foolish
fellow, who is devoted to me, hoped to silence you by death. When he
came back I rebuked him severely, and you can see that, as Geary's
right arm is wounded by you, Haskins, he could not have murdered
Bellaria."
"I am not so sure of that," said Gerald dryly, but felt all the same
that the Major was wriggling like an eel out of a very difficult
position, "and your story of the way in which he wounded himself won't
hold water. If I tell the truth----"
"I wonder you did not while I was speaking," said Rebb, exasperatingly
calm. "Why did you not?"
"Because I---- Well, I have my reasons," said Gerald, nonplussed by
the man's boldness. "But if I tell the story----"
"Geary will be convicted of a falsehood," finished Rebb, nodding. "It
will not harm my reputation as a truth-teller in any way, if that is
what you mean. I suggested the excuse of an accident to Geary, and if
he is questioned, on the authority of your wild statement of assault,
he will say that he told me the invention, so as to keep dark his
wrongful attack on you--which I would never have countenanced," ended
Rebb, with great emphasis.
"I shall say nothing at present, as I have my reasons for keeping
silent. What do you mean to do about this murder?"
"What can I do? I believe that Mavis is guilty----"
"It's a lie--a lie!" cried Haskins vehemently.
"No," insisted Rebb. "I really believe that she killed Bellaria. When
she is captured, as she will be sooner or later, she will be tried for
her life. Still, as I can swear to her insanity, she will be placed in
a public asylum, with sufficient allowed out of the estate for her
keep, and I----"
"You will enjoy the rest of the money?"
Rebb bowed! with a gratified and malicious expression. "As Mavis can
never marry now I retain the income for the rest of my life."
"And I," said Haskins, raising his hand solemnly, "swear never to rest
until her innocence is proved and she is my wife."
"I defy you to do your worst," snapped Rebb contemptuously, "all the
cards are in my hands. Might is on my side."
"And right on mine and on Mavis'. Let God decide, Rebb."
The Major laughed insolently, shrugged his shoulders, and left the
room, convinced that Haskins could not harm him. He disbelieved in
God.