GEARY'S ACCUSATION.
It would be hard to say who was the palest and most terror-stricken of
the trio who stood on the terrace. Mrs. Crosbie clung to her stern
mother with dilated eyes, shaking like a reed: but Mrs. Berch,
although stern and unmoved--outwardly at least--was also pallid. As
for Rebb, he leaned against the balustrade of the terrace scarcely
able to speak. Before him stood Tod and Arnold, Gerald Haskins and the
girl whom he had treated so cruelly--the girl whom he had believed
until now was at the bottom of some rural stream. The hour of
retribution had come, and in a flash the guilty man saw everything he
possessed reft from him--saw also the structure of crime and falsehood
he had reared crumble into dust. His worst enemy would have pitied the
Major in that hour of agony.
"You!" he faltered, staring at Mavis, as though she were indeed the
ghost he almost believed her to be. "You!"
"Ah!" murmured Macandrew complacently, "so Geary did not deliver my
message to you after all."
"Geary!" The Major stood erect, braced for the coming struggle, and
his face hardened. "Did Geary know this----" And he pointed to Mavis.
"I told him the truth last night."
"And he never told me; he never warned me." Rebb clenched his fists.
"Oh the scoundrel! I might have---- But there, it is too late--too
late."
"What do you mean by too late?" said Mrs. Berch imperiously, and
throwing a protecting arm round her daughter, "fight for Madge if you
will not for yourself."
But Rebb paid no attention to her. "Geary! Geary!" he muttered,
looking round with bloodshot eyes, "he was in the courtyard an hour
ago, and he did not tell me, curse him! He may be---- Geary! Geary!"
he raised his voice to an angry cry and ran swiftly along the terrace
through the arch and into the quadrangle.
Gerald took the hand of his wife and followed quickly, with Tod and
the ex-tutor behind. They did not wish to lose sight of Rebb. For one
moment Mrs. Berch and her daughter looked at one another, and Madge
hung back, trembling. But the mother suddenly seized the widow's wrist
and dragged her, a miserable figure, pale-faced, and shaking in her
gay attire, into the quadrangle. "We must see what Michael will do,"
whispered Mrs. Berch, passing her tongue over her dry lips. "He may
win the day yet."
"No, no," moaned Mrs. Crosbie; "he is lost."
At the far end of the quadrangle Gerald and Mavis saw the token of
Geary's drunken handiwork. A considerable portion of the ivy-clothed
wall had fallen outward, and lay in ruins on the lip of the cliff.
Three or four trees had been dashed into the pool below, and there was
a clear view across the Ruddle to the green forest beyond. The mystery
of the Enchanted Castle was at an end, and, no longer a palace of the
Sleeping Beauty, it lay open to the world, as Morgan had said. And now
in its romantic quadrangle there were sterner doings than the
moonlight wooings of lovers who had, for the moment, recalled the
Golden Age, when the gods came down to men.
"Geary! Geary!" shouted Rebb, rushing towards the fallen wall, and
mounting its ruins. There was no response, and Gerald fancied that
Rebb had merely made an excuse, so as to get near the river and
throw himself in. But, guilty or innocent, the Major was sufficiently
brave to face the sins he had committed, and came down again slowly to
the group near the battered sundial. He was still livid, but more
self-controlled.
"I shall deal with Geary later," he said thickly, "in the meanwhile I
can deal with you."
"We are quite ready," said Gerald tranquilly.
"Who are _we?_" questioned Rebb scathingly.
"Myself and my wife."
"She is not your wife. A marriage with a madwoman is not legal."
Mavis shuddered, and clung to Gerald's arm. It was the first time that
she had been called mad to her face. "Oh, guardian," she wailed, "how
can you say that of me when I was so fond of you?"
"You had every reason to be fond of me," said Rebb harshly, and his
eyes gleamed as he thought the girl was weakening. "I gave you a happy
home, in this delightful place, because your brain was not strong
enough to bear the troubles of this world."
Mavis withdrew her hand from Gerald's arm, and looked scornfully at
the liar, whom she now saw in his true colors. "You kept me here that
you might enjoy the money which my father left to me," she declared,
in haughty tones, "you betrayed the trust your dead friend placed in
you. I was a weak girl, and an ignorant one, to believe in your lies:
but now," she added, stepping forward a pace, "now, Major Rebb," and
her use of the name showed the attitude she intended to adopt, "I call
upon you to give me back my money, and leave this place, which belongs
to me."
"No madwoman can possess money," said Mrs. Crosbie shrilly. She saw
the Major's income was about to be lost, and that it would be useless
to marry him. "Michael, call the police and have her removed."
"One moment," said Gerald quietly. "You go too fast, Mrs. Crosbie. But
I am glad to see you at last as you really are. I thought you were my
friend. I now see that you are my enemy. My wife is perfectly sane,
and, as her husband, I shall see that her sanity is proved."
"Call the police--call the police!" cried Mrs. Crosbie furiously; and
she broke from her mother's grip. "How dare you stand there and insult
me, Gerald? I was your friend, and I will be your friend still, if you
will shut up that girl, and apologize."
Tod laughed at the weakness of this speech. "If you cannot find
anything better to say, Mrs. Crosbie, you had better hold your
tongue," he said caustically. "Even if Mrs. Haskins is shut up the
money still belongs to her husband. Major Rebb has lost that for ever.
It is the money you are after, madam."
"Yes, it is; yes, it is," said Mrs. Crosbie, utterly reckless, and
defying the efforts of her mother to keep her silent. "If you knew the
miserable years of poverty I have had you would not wonder at my
wishing for the money. My marriage with Michael will save me from
shame and misery and--and----" She choked with mingled terror and
rage, and Mrs. Berch pulled her back roughly.
"Are you a fool to talk like this?" she muttered. "Hold your tongue,
you silly child." She shook her angrily. "Wait until Michael settles
this affair. Major Rebb?" she turned inquiringly to her proposed
son-in-law.
"I shall settle this affair very speedily," said Rebb, walking across
the lawn towards the archway, "my man shall go for the police. Or,
better still, that coachman who drove you from Silbury, Mavis, shall
go back to bring Inspector Morgan. I am very sorry that you have
thrust yourself into danger. But I should not be doing my duty by
society if I did not have you imprisoned."
"As a lunatic?" asked Mavis scornfully. She had quite lost her old
dread of the Major by this time.
"As a murderess," he retorted.
"Prove that," said Haskins, stepping in Rebb's path.
"Out of my way," growled Rebb, looking dangerous.
"You have brought a serious accusation against my wife," persisted the
young man, "and I intend to make you prove it. On what grounds do you
say that my wife is crazy?"
"She has been all her life," said the Major, forced to answer, for he
saw very plainly that Haskins would knock him down if he attempted to
pass the archway. Not that the Major feared a fight, but his situation
was so desperate that he wished to adjust things as quietly as
possible. His threat to call the police was bluff, as Gerald knew, and
because Gerald _did_ know Rebb was furious.
"Prove that she has been mad all her life," said Haskins coolly.
"Mavis has been with Mrs. Pelham Odin since she left here, and that
very clever old woman cannot see that my wife is mad: nor can
Macandrew, nor Arnold, nor anyone else."
"I can, I can!" cried Mrs. Crosbie, with a bright red spot burning on
either cheek, and looked very angry.
"Ah! you are a prejudiced witness, seeing that you wish to marry Major
Rebb, for the income he is now losing."
"That he has lost," interposed Tod, in a dry legal tone: "the
conditions of Julian Durham's will have been fulfilled, and Mrs.
Haskins now takes possession of her property."
"How can you prove that my wife is mad?" asked Gerald again, and
taking no notice of the interruption, "have you had her examined by
two doctors, according to law?"
"No," replied Rebb grudgingly.
"Then how dare you shut her up in this house? I shall bring an action
against you, on behalf of my wife, for false imprisonment."
"You had better think twice before you do that," said the Major, in
icy tones, "for I shall retort with an accusation of murder."
"You say that my wife murdered Bellaria?"
"I do," said Rebb doggedly. "I swear to it."
"I dare say; but you have yet to prove your accusation. I am quite
willing to allow Mavis to be arrested." Gerald stepped aside. "Go and
fetch the police, Rebb. They will be here soon."
"Here!" Rebb started and turned a shade paler.
"I left instructions at the police station before coming here that
Inspector Morgan was to come with two men. When they arrive you can
give Mavis in charge and then we can submit your accusation of
insanity to a couple of doctors, and your charge of murder to a jury."
"Then," cried Mrs. Crosbie viciously, "Michael will get back his
money."
"I think not," replied Gerald coldly. "I take charge of that."
By this time the courage was oozing out of Rebb, who had not expected
the young man to take up such an attitude. "Cannot we arrange this
matter quietly?" he asked, trying to appear composed.
"No," said the other quietly. "The offer you made me in yonder room
does not suit me."
"An offer?" said Mrs. Berch, in her deep voice.
"I offered to let Haskins marry Mavis and take her to America, if
he--or rather she--surrendered half the income."
"I refuse, as Gerald refused," said Mavis proudly. "I prefer to stand
my trial. I am not going to pass the rest of my life under a cloud for
your sake, Major Rebb."
"Your sister--your twin sister--shall get the money," cried Rebb, at
his wits' end how to deal with the situation. "Ah, you never knew
that."
"I knew when Gerald told me," said Mrs. Haskins composedly, "and I
more than suspected it before. Indeed Charity allowed me to pass as
herself, so as to save me from you. I shall repay that, with three
thousand a year. My husband and I have arranged that."
"You passed as Charity," cried Rebb, amazed.
"Yes; I danced at the Belver Theatre, and----"
"It's a lie--you couldn't. What became of Charity, if you did that?"
"Charity was with me," said Tod, stepping forward.
"With you?"
"Yes, as my wife."
Major Rebb jumped, and staggered against the sundial. "So both the
sisters are married?" he muttered.
"They are," said Tod, "and they have agreed to share the income you
have held all these years. I am afraid that the game is up, Major."
Rebb said nothing. The game was indeed up, and he did not know which
way to turn, or how to get the better of his pitiless opponents. Mrs.
Berch left her daughter for the moment and touched his arm. "Why did
you not tell me that there was another girl?" she asked hoarsely and
savagely.
"There was no need." And the Major shook her off.
"There was every need. You told me, you told Madge, that your income
depended upon Mavis Durham----"
"Mavis Haskins, if you please," interpolated that young lady.
Mrs. Berch paid no attention. "On Mavis Durham not marrying. You said
that if in some way her insanity could be proved, and she could be
stopped from marriage, that your income would be safe. For that reason
my daughter wished to marry you."
"She loved me," said Rebb unsteadily, and looked at Mrs. Crosbie.
"I loved you as well as any other man," she said coolly, and shrugging
her shoulders, "but I would have married anyone to escape from debt
and duns and hideous poverty. As you are now poor, of course I cannot
marry you. Come, mother. There is nothing more to be got here. Let us
go back to our misery."
Rebb said nothing, but turned very white. The woman for whom he had
sold his soul was ready to cast him aside like an old glove. Mrs.
Crosbie, with a vicious glance at Mavis, and a look of indifference at
the man she had professed to love, took her mother's arm. Mrs. Berch
was quite ready to go, and indeed seemed to be in a hurry to depart.
But the path of the two was blocked by the tiny figure of Arnold, who
had hitherto held his peace.
"So you _did_ know that the Major's income depended upon Mavis being
prevented, even by the murder of Bellaria, from marrying?"
"What is that to you? Let me pass," cried Mrs. Crosbie haughtily.
"We," Arnold waved his hand to include Gerald and Tod, "we thought
that you were ignorant, and so could not guess what was your motive
for murdering that unfortunate woman."
"Murder!" Mrs. Crosbie went a dead-white, and became as rigid as a
corpse.
Rebb started and came forward.
"You must be mistaken," he said, in shaking tones to Arnold.
"He is a foul liar," said Mrs. Berch, grasping her daughter to keep
her from falling. "Let us pass, sir."
"No," said Arnold, still holding his ground, and speaking loudly,
while the others kept silence. "When Inspector Morgan comes you shall
be arrested. I shall give you in charge for this murder, of which Mrs.
Haskins is wrongfully accused."
Mrs. Crosbie shrieked, looking a pitiable spectacle of fear and shame,
as she clung to her mother. But that stern lady, although white and
also terrified, controlled her feelings with iron nerve. "On what
grounds do you accuse my daughter?" she demanded.
"I saw you and her in a motor car at Belldown--I saw you on the way
here--you were at the gates of the Pixy's House shortly before twelve
o'clock, waiting for Bellaria, whom you lured to the gate by means of
a letter."
"I was at Bognor--I was at Bognor," cried Mrs. Crosbie, shaking with
fear.
"No," interposed Tod. "My clerk went to watch you at Bognor. Neither
you nor Mrs. Berch went there at all. You were down here. Come, Mrs.
Crosbie, you may as well confess. We can prove all about the motor
car, and your presence here."
"Madge! Madge!" cried Rebb, who looked horrified, "is this true?"
But Mrs. Crosbie only clung sobbing to her mother, being terrified
almost to death. At the same moment that Rebb spoke Inspector Morgan,
with a couple of policemen, entered the quadrangle, and advanced
towards the group. "You wanted me here, Mr. Haskins?" he asked
inquiringly. "I got your message, and here I am with my men. What is
it?"
"In the first place," said Gerald quietly, "allow me to present to you
my wife," then when Morgan saluted in a puzzled way, he continued,
"once known as Mavis Durham."
"What!" Morgan grew red, and his eyes almost started out of his head.
"Do you mean to say that this lady is Mavis Durham?"
"Mavis Haskins now," said the girl, with a perfectly calm smile, "and
I surrender myself to you willingly."
"I arrest you in the King's name for murder," gabbled Morgan, trying
to recover his official dignity. "Anything you say now will be used in
evidence against you." And he signed to his subordinates, likewise
startled out of their wits, to take charge of the girl. Arnold sprang
forward as a young constable placed his hand on Mavis' arm.
"Stop," he cried. "Mrs. Haskins is innocent. Here is the guilty
woman." And he pointed to Mrs. Crosbie.
"No, _no!_ You can't prove that--you dare not--you----"
"I can prove it!" cried Arnold, bluffing. "Mrs. Crosbie was at the
gate of the Pixy's House at the time Bellaria Dondi was murdered. A
dozen witnesses can swear that she was in the neighborhood."
"Is this true?" Morgan asked the little widow, whose gaiety was all
gone, and who suddenly looked twice her age.
"It is not true! It is not true!" she cried. "Mother and I were at
Belldown. We went on to see Major Rebb at Denleigh."
"Hush, you fool!" muttered Mrs. Berch, shaking her.
"You never came near me there!" cried Rebb, and then became aware
that, on the impulse of the moment, he had ruined the widow. In a
paroxysm of shame and terror, for the man did love the miserable
woman, he added: "Mrs. Crosbie is innocent. I swear she is. I know who
is guilty."
"You?" everyone cried out, Inspector Morgan loudest of all. The scene
was beyond his comprehension, and he was on the verge of an apoplectic
fit. The whole scene was melodramatic and unreal, and, on the stage,
or when written in a book, would have been described so by critics.
"Who is guilty?" demanded Morgan fiercely.
"Geary--Adonis Geary," said Rebb. "The knife was his, and I found him
in the grounds when I arrived."
There was a savage shout before he could finish, and Geary sprang from
behind the ruined river wall. He had been concealed there, and had
heard everything: but he did not appear until his adored master
accused him of the crime. Then terror and rage made him leap forward,
half mad and half drunk. "You say one big lie, sah!" he shouted, with
rolling eyes, and a thick voice. "I lubbed you once, but now you would
kill me with a lie. I tell who did kill dat poor Bellaria."
"Who killed her?" asked Gerald, for Morgan was too bewildered to ask.
Geary looked slowly round, and pointed to Mrs. Berch.
"Oh, mother, mother," cried Mrs. Crosbie, "I would have saved you if I
could."