THE HUNTING OF MAN.
We were no nearer the truth than before. Rose Gernon had told us
nothing new comparatively speaking. Certainly she declared herself to
be innocent of the crime, and accused Strent, but if we found Strent,
he might declare himself innocent and accuse her. One or the other of
them must necessarily be guilty, as they alone had seen Felix on that
fatal night. Rose was being closely watched by a detective, so that we
could obtain her evidence at any moment. It now remained for us to
find Strent, and hear his story. Francis believed Strent had killed
his brother. I had my doubts, as I could see no motive for him
committing the crime, whereas Rose, in a fit of blind anger, might
have done so. Merrick's theory as to her guilt was more in accordance
with my belief.
Hitherto we had kept the case from being meddled with by the police,
but now they began to handle the matter. Informed by Francis as to the
whereabouts of the body, they dragged the pool near the Fen Inn, and
recovered the corpse of the unhappy young man. Then the inspector
wrote a peremptory letter to Francis, requesting him to come down and
attend the inquest. There was a note of suspicion in the letter, and
Francis could not very well help obeying the summons. He requested me
to come with him, which I had every intention of doing. We settled the
time of our departure, and before going saw Olivia and Dr. Merrick.
Mrs. Bellin had not been informed of the death of Felix, nor did she
suspect that anything wrong was going on under her very nose. Thanks
to the wonderful resemblance between the twins, she accepted Felix as
Francis and Francis as himself without the slightest suspicion. At
first she had objected to the engagement, but afterward, learning that
Briarfield possessed a good income, consented. To be sure, she would
have been better pleased had Olivia married a title, but, as her
daughter declared she would marry no one but Francis, Mrs. Bellin gave
way with a good grace.
As to Olivia, she was terribly dismayed when she heard Francis was
going to Marshminster, and she dreaded lest he should be accused of
his brother's murder. The actions of Francis had been so very peculiar
that I was afraid to tell them to the inspector, lest he should think
the young man guilty. At the same time it was impossible to keep them
secret, as Francis had thrown the body of his brother into the pool,
and would have to explain to the inspector how it got there. Our only
chance of proving him to be innocent lay in finding Strent, and where
he was to be discovered none of us knew. Merrick's clever brain
discovered a clew to the destination of the fugitive.
"Did you ride to the Fen Inn from Marshminster?" he asked Francis.
"No. Had I come by train to Marshminster, I would have gone to Bellin
Hall, where my brother was staying, and seen him before Olivia."
"It's a pity you did not go there," said Merrick thoughtfully. "All
this trouble might have then been avoided. Well, how did you get to
the Fen Inn?"
"I took the train from London to Starby, hired a horse there, and rode
to the Fen Inn."
"How far is it from Starby to the Fen Inn?"
"About twelve miles."
"And from the Fen Inn to Marshminster?"
"Ten miles."
"Much about a muchness," said Merrick. "Did you tell Strent you had
ridden from Starby?"
"Yes, I had no reason to conceal my movements."
"Quite so. Well, according to Rose Gernon, it was your horse Strent
took to escape."
"It was. I wonder he did not take the horse of Felix."
"For a very simple reason! He knew when the alarm was given that you
and Denham would go to Marshminster; therefore to hide his trail the
better he went back with your horse to Starby."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it. Go to the livery stable at Starby where you hired
your horse, and I am certain you'll find it there, restored by
Strent."
"Well," said I, in no wise satisfied, "suppose we trace him to Starby.
That will be no use. No doubt he took the train there to London."
"Very probably," said Merrick coolly, "and waited there for Rose
Gernon."
"But she has not seen him since he fled from the inn."
"So she says, but it is not true, for all that. When he killed
Felix,--and the evidence seems to point to him as the murderer,--he
told Rose to take the gig and go to Marshminster. Then he rode off to
Starby and rejoined her in London."
"But why should she conceal his movements?"
"Because he knows too much about the crime," said Merrick decisively.
"Either she did it herself and is afraid of his speaking, or he did it
and she wishes to screen him."
"Why should she wish to screen a man who killed her lover?"
"I can't answer all questions," said Merrick irritably, finding
himself at a loss; "all this is pure theory, but I think it is so. I
am certain there is an understanding between Rose and Strent. If that
detective watching Rose only knew Strent, I am certain he would catch
him paying her a visit."
"Why not give the detective a picture of the man?" suggested Francis.
"Why not, indeed!" I retorted derisively; "because we haven't got a
picture."
"I have one at my rooms," said Francis.
"Where did you get it?"
"I drew it while waiting for Felix at the Fen Inn. You know, Denham, I
have some skill in catching expressions and watching faces. The fellow
struck me as such a smug scoundrel that I penciled a caricature of him
while he moved about the dining room. It is not a photograph,
certainly--still, I think it is sufficiently like him."
"Capital!" said the doctor, rubbing his hands. "It's a good thing you
employed your leisure in that way, Mr. Briarfield. It may do you a
great service."
"You think I am in danger?"
"I think you stand in a perilous position," replied the doctor
gravely. "Your very efforts to preserve your secret and baffle Denham
will score against you with the police. And you must tell them all,
seeing you knew where the body was to be found."
"I'll tell them all, and do the best I can," said Francis, turning
pale, "but Rose can prove I was never out of my room."
"No, she can't! Rose went to bed, and for aught she knows you might
have come down and quarreled with your brother afterward. Your only
chance, Mr. Briarfield, of proving your innocence is to find Strent.
If you give that portrait to the detective watching Rose Gernon, I
believe you'll lay hands on him, but it's a mere chance."
"There is another means of identification," said I. "Strent is lame,
so if a lame man calls on Miss Gernon, my detective, aided by the
picture, will know it is Strent."
"Well, go and try my plan," said Merrick, shaking Francis by the hand.
"I hope for your sake, Mr. Briarfield, it will be successful."
When we left the doctor, Francis looked pale and upset. He was just
beginning to realize the predicament in which he stood. I was afraid
myself that when all was known he would be arrested. His own actions
looked black, though I knew they were done out of pure foolishness.
Had he only trusted me at the time, all the trouble would have been
averted. As it was I determined to stand by him to the end.
"Cheer up, Briarfield!" said I, clapping him on his back. "If Merrick
and I solved so much of the mystery, you may be sure we'll find out
the rest."
"It's the newspapers I'm thinking of," he said ruefully; "if all this
foolishness gets into the press, Mrs. Bellin will never let me marry
Olivia."
"I don't think Mrs. Bellin will have much say in the matter," I
answered dryly. "Olivia is not the kind of woman to give up her lover
so easily, particularly when she knows the truth. She'll stick to you,
as I intend to do. As to the press, you forget that the inquest is at
Marshminster, which only possesses a weekly paper. I know the editor,
and can keep all details out of it. Cheer up!"
"Thank you, Denham," said the poor fellow gratefully. "You are the
best friend I have."
"Faith, you didn't think so at Paris, Briarfield. I've no doubt that
there you cursed me by all your gods for a meddlesome fool."
At this he laughed, and began to pick up his spirits. We saw the
detective who was watching Rose Gernon, and gave him the picture drawn
by Francis, with a full description of the man he wanted. Especially
did we lay stress on the lameness, and in the end our detective
promised that he would nail any man answering to our description. I
gave him my address at Marshminster, and told him to wire when he
found out the whereabouts of Strent. I also told him to wire to
Merrick, as the doctor was anxious to know if his theory would prove
correct.
Next day we went down to Marshminster. By permission Francis stayed
with me at Aunt Jane's house, and, learning that he was in trouble,
the two old ladies made much of him. We saw the inspector of police,
who was a friend of mine, and learned that the body of Felix
Briarfield was at the morgue of Marshminster. The inquest was to be
held next morning, and all arrangements had been made. When the
inspector had supplied us with this information, we sat down and told
him the whole story as has been here set forth. He listened with much
astonishment, and expressed himself to that end.
"I never read a novel to touch this," he said, staring at Francis.
"Truth is stranger than fiction, after all. You greatly resemble your
unhappy brother, Mr. Briarfield."
"Is the body much decomposed?" asked I, seeing that Francis remained
silent.
"It's recognizable only," replied the inspector. "You acted very
foolishly in this matter, both of you. Why did you not come and tell
me about it all at once?"
"I was afraid of being accused of killing my brother," said Francis
faintly.
"You've made it ten times worse now," said the inspector dryly. "Had
you wished to damn yourself, you could not have gone to work in a more
pig-headed fashion."
"Are you going to arrest me?"
"No. There is not sufficient evidence against you. Besides, I quite
believe your story. Still," added he, with some hesitation, "you have
to face the coroner to-morrow. He may not believe you so easily as I."
"What do you think is best to be done?" I asked dismally.
"Well, judging from what you have told me, I should think the best
thing would be to find Strent," said the inspector; "he is the only
man to solve the mystery. Failing him, you'd better get Rose Gernon
down. Her evidence may go to prove that Mr. Briarfield was in bed at
the time Felix was in the house."
"I'll wire for her to come down at once," I said, jumping up.
"It will be as well. I'll send a man over to Starby, and find out if
Strent delivered the horse to the livery-stable keeper. I wish to
Heaven, Denham," said the inspector, raging at me, "that you had told
me all about this at first."
"I acted for the best."
"I've no doubt you did," he replied ill-temperedly, "but I hate your
amateur detectives; they simply muddle things. I'd have straightened
out this coil long ago had I taken it in hand."
"I have my doubts of that," said I dryly, and went off to the
telegraph office. There I sent a telegram to Rose Gernon, asking her
to come down by the early train next morning, and also informed the
detective that I wished her to come. I knew quite well she would not
dare to refuse, and, moreover, that my detective would send a man to
watch her, while he waited round her house for the possible appearance
of Strent.
When I got back to the inspector's room, I found that his ill temper
had vanished, and he was doing his best to console Francis.
"I've seen a man in a worse plight than is yours, Mr. Briarfield," he
was saying, when I entered, "and yet he came out all right in the end.
The cause of his predicament was similar."
"What's that?" said Francis, looking up.
"Lack of moral courage. Had you told Denham at the time, and then both
of you had told me, we might have laid our hands on Rose Gernon and
Strent. As it was, you gave them time to make up their plans and get
away."
"Rose hasn't got away," said I grimly. "She's safe enough, and will be
here to-morrow."
"I wish we could say the same about Strent," said the inspector.
"Do you think he is guilty?" asked Francis.
"Upon my word, sir, after all my experience of the law, I am afraid to
say who is guilty and who isn't. That theory of Dr. Merrick's
regarding Rose Gernon is feasible enough. She certainly seems to have
had more motive for killing your brother than had Strent."
"It's my opinion," said I, "that there is a relationship between
Strent and Rose. In such relationship lies the secret of the crime and
her silence."
"Humph! There's something in that," said the inspector. "They might be
man and wife."
"Or brother and sister," suggested Francis.
"Or even lovers," I said, nodding my head. "Jealousy on the part of
Strent might have spurred him on to killing Felix."
These, however, were all theories, and we parted for the night without
coming to any decision as to who was the guilty party. In the morning
I received a telegram from Merrick, and went off with it at once to
the inspector. It ran thus:
"Have secured Strent. Am bringing him down with Rose. Arrive at noon.
Hold over inquest if possible."
"By Jove, sir!" said the inspector, "that man is lost as a doctor. He
ought to be a detective!"