NEMESIS
Hardly had Sir Daniel Jerce disappeared, when Clarice dropped like a
log to the ground. The strain had been too much for her, and for the
second time in her life she fainted. Anthony hastily summoned Mrs.
Rebson, and the poor girl was taken up to her room. Then Captain
Ackworth left the house. Business must go on, in spite of all untoward
events, and he was forced to return to Gattlinsands and to his duties.
But before leaving he told Mrs. Rebson that he would come over the
next day, and then addressed himself to Ferdy. "You had better remain
in the house," he said, coldly, "as it will be necessary for Clarice
and myself to arrange to-morrow about your future. You have escaped a
great danger, and everything must be made safe, for your sister's
sake."
"I can arrange my own future, thank you," said Ferdy, haughtily.
"You will do exactly what you are told," said Ackworth, stern and
unbending, "or else I shall inform the police."
"You would not dare--for Clarice's sake."
"For her sake I would dare. You have made her life miserable for
years, and I won't permit you to spoil it any longer. Also I wish to
avoid a public scandal. If Osip holds his tongue this may be done. But
my forbearance depends entirely upon your obeying orders."
"But Clarry will rage at me all the evening," whimpered Ferdy, now
very afraid for his skin. "Let me go to the Vicarage."
"Yes," interposed the vicar, "let him come with me and see Prudence.
Now there is no bar to the marriage."
"What?" cried Ackworth, recoiling. "Would you have a scamp like this
for your son-in-law?"
"I'm not a scamp," cried Ferdy, furiously.
Clarke raised his hand mildly. "My own son is worse than this
boy--that is, he was worse, seeing that he is dead. Frank was a
murderer, so who am I to blame Ferdinand for his wickedness? He is all
right if he is kept in the strait way, and Prudence shall do this."
"Oh!" Anthony was too disgusted for words. "Would you force the girl
to marry him?"
"No. But he shall tell Prudence everything. The acceptance, or
refusal, shall rest with her."
"You hear?" cried Ferdy, in triumph. "Other people are not so hard on
me as you and Clarry are. Can I go to the Vicarage?"
"Yes," said Ackworth, seeing the hopelessness of bringing Ferdy to a
sense of his sins. "Go, and, for heaven's sake, never let me see you
again. You are worse than a villain, Ferdy--you are a fool," and he
walked out, wondering how a girl like Clarice ever came to have such a
blackguard for a brother. The next morning Clarice rose, feeling as
though a black cloud had been lifted from her life. Things were bad,
certainly, but they were not so bad as they had been. She dressed
herself with great care and ate a good breakfast in her room. Ferdy
had sent up to ask her to come down to the meal, but she felt that she
could not sit opposite to him again. Like Anthony, she wished to see
the last of Ferdy, even though he was her twin brother. When she was
getting ready to go downstairs and meet Ackworth, who was expected at
eleven o'clock, Mrs. Rebson rushed in.
"Oh, deary me--oh, deary me," she cried, wringing her hands, "what bad
news, Miss Clarice--what dreadful news!"
"What is it now?" asked the girl, quietly. She had received so many
shocks that one more or less mattered little. "Has Ferdy----?"
"He's all right, miss--the darling boy. You have saved him, though
what you had to save him from I don't know, and he won't tell his own
dear Nanny."
"Better not ask, Mrs. Rebson," said Clarice, with a weary sigh. "But
your news--what is it?"
"That doctor and Jane."
"Dr. Jerce?"
"Yes, lovey--Sir Daniel as was."
"Oh! he is dead. I quite expected to hear that." Mrs. Rebson stared.
"You expected to hear that Sir Daniel was torn in pieces by Jane?" she
asked, incredulously. "What!" Clarice could scarcely believe her ears.
"It's true, miss. You know that Jane always hated Sir Daniel, though
why she did so----"
"I know why," said Clarice, thinking of the vivisection. "Go on."
"Well, then, miss, Jane followed Sir Daniel when he went away last
night. The groom--Thomas--saw her. This morning he found her with her
jaws all over blood, footsore and weary, as though she had come a long
way. And she's been stabbed in the side with a penknife, miss, as the
wounds--three of them--are so small."
"Well? Well?" asked Clarice, impatiently, while Mrs. Rebson stopped
for sheer want of breath. "What has this to do with Sir Daniel?"
"What's it got to do with him?" screeched the housekeeper, sitting
down. "Why, miss, news has just come by a couple of labourers that the
body of Sir Daniel has been found on Barnes Common, fifteen miles
away, with his throat tore out, and the poor man as dead as a herring.
It is thought that the dog did it, since she hated him, and the police
are coming in an hour to make enquiries."
"It's impossible," said Clarice, hardly able to believe that Jane had
thus revenged herself on her enemy. "Sir Daniel went up to London by
the train."
"No, miss, he didn't, begging your pardon. Mrs. Dumps saw him at the
gate hesitating, and he really did walk towards the High Street, on
his way to the station, may be. But then he changed his mind and went
down the lane. She saw him pass, and Jane following him as good as
gold. No doubt he walked on to Barnes Common, and there Jane killed
him. Oh, ain't it dreadful?" cried Mrs. Rebson, again wringing her
wrinkled hands. "The Domestic Prophet never said anything like that."
Clarice did not reply. She wondered why Jerce had walked. He must have
seen the dog, who hated him, follow. But, perhaps, because Jane
limped--the doctor's own work--he did not think that she was
dangerous. And it might be that Jerce intended to kill himself in the
open instead of in his Harley Street house. But, be this as it may,
Jerce was dead, and Jane had killed him. No doubt she had followed
persistently all that long way, and, having been left behind, Jerce
had sat down to rest. Clarice could picture the grim yellow-eyed dog
stealing up in the dark night to the unsuspecting man, seated on some
dripping bench on the Common. She could picture the silent spring, the
closing of those long, white teeth on Jerce's fat throat. And then the
end, with the dead body lying on the soaking ground, and the dog
trailing home, weary but satisfied, with blood-stained jaws. Truly,
Jerce had not escaped punishment after all, and the gods had brought
home his crime to him in a terrible way.
"Master Ferdy wants to see you, deary," said Mrs. Rebson, after she
had expressed her conviction that Jane would be shot, and had
mentioned twice her wonder that a limping dog should have caught up
with a smart walker. "I am coming down now," said the girl, quietly,
and leaving Mrs. Rebson to shake her head over the wickedness of Jane,
she went into the breakfast-room, where Ferdy was impatiently waiting
for her. "Clarry, have you heard the news?" he asked, shaking a
newspaper. "Don't call me that," said Clarice, coldly. "I have done
with you, Ferdinand. You are not worthy to be my brother."
"Don't go on like that, Clarice," said the young man, struck to the
heart by the stiff way in which she addressed him. "I'm in such
trouble. That Osip will tell the police about my having the stamp, and
then I'll be arrested."
"You deserve the worst that can befall you, Ferdinand. But Osip----"
"He's arrested, and Barras is dead."
Clarice sat down. How many more tragedies was she to hear of? Ferdy
pointed out a sensational heading in the "Daily Planet." "See
Jerce--have you heard, Clarry?--has been killed by Jane, and now Osip
has killed Barras. Their crimes have come home to them."
"And your crimes ought to come home to you," cried Clarice, feeling
sick with Ferdy's egotism. "You are--you are--but I can't say what you
are. Your wickedness and weakness are beyond the power of language to
express. How did Osip kill Mr. Barras?"
Ferdy grew sulky, and apparently regarded himself as a very ill-used
person. "Osip went to Barras' office yesterday to get money out of
him, and Barras kicked at the idea. Osip then murdered him, and rifled
the safe with keys taken from Barras' pocket. He stamped the Purple
Fern on Barras' forehead, and was cutting with the money, when someone
came into the room. The alarm was given, and Osip fled down the street
with everyone after him. A policeman caught him, and now he is in
gaol. And I dare say he'll give me away," lamented Ferdy, selfishly.
"So hard on me, just when everything is settled nicely. Prudence has
promised to marry me and--"
"Prudence?" cried Clarice, starting to her feet, and throwing down the
"Daily Planet" which she was reading. "Does she know what you are?"
"Yes," said Ferdy, sulkily, "and she knows that I am not a bad sort
either. Her brother was a murderer, so she says that I'm not so bad as
he was; and Mr. Clarke thinks the same. But we don't want to stop in
Crumel after we are married. Mr. Clarke says he will come with us to
Australia. I think I shall like that," ended Ferdy, musingly. "I hear
it's a ripping climate."
Clarice looked at him helplessly. It seemed impossible to do anything
with this blind fool. However, she made an attempt to frighten him.
"I suppose you forget that you may be arrested if Osip speaks?"
"Oh, Clarry, you must stop that," said Ferdy, imploringly. "I know I'm
not so good as I might be; but there are worse than I am--Jerce, for
instance. Look what a bad----"
"Oh, be silent," said Clarice, in sheer despair, "and listen. You are
in no danger of arrest. Do you know why I allowed Sir Daniel Jerce to
leave yesterday after he had signed the confession?"
"No, but I'm glad you did, as if he had been arrested he might have
turned nasty."
"Quite so. Well, then, I received a letter when I went to meet Mr.
Clarke in the hall. It was from Osip. He said that because I had been
so brave in trying to save you by meeting him at the Shah's Rooms, and
because I had not told the police about him, that he would acknowledge
that he was guilty of Uncle Henry's death."
"No," said Ferdy, delighted. "What a good chap. But why----"
"Ugh!" said his sister, her teeth on edge with Ferdy's joy. "Osip can
easily take a fifth murder on his conscience, since he will certainly
be hanged for the other four. You can make yourself easy, Ferdinand;
Osip will plead guilty to Jerce's crime, and as the police and the
public already believe in his guilt, no enquiries will be made. Sir
Daniel Jerce's wickedness will never be discovered, nor--as I will not
move in the matter--will the defalcations of Mr. Barras come to light.
The world will say that two good men are gone, and Osip will be
hanged, while poor Jane will be shot for having killed a villain who
thoroughly deserved his doom."
So Clarice spoke, and after-events proved that she was a true
prophetess. Jane was shot, Osip was hanged, keeping silence to the
end, out of some odd admiration for her bravery in facing him, and the
notices about Jerce and Barras were all that could be desired in the
way of praising their good deeds and wonderful lives and amiable
dispositions. There was something ironical about the whole business,
and not the least ironical part was that Ferdy should be happy, when
he deserved punishment.
There was only one danger, namely, that Zara Dumps, sooner than lose
Ferdy, might reveal what she knew, and thus re-open the business. But
when Anthony came an hour later to see Clarice, he found her alone,
and was enabled to set her mind at rest on this point.
"I am late," explained Anthony, when the two were seated on the old
familiar sofa, "because I have been seeing Mrs. Dumps and her
daughter."
"Is Zara in Crumel?"
"Yes. She came yesterday, as she is not acting just now. A new man to
play the part of the Chrysalis has to be obtained, and Zara finds some
difficulty in getting the person she wants. I have explained to her
that she and her mother must hold their tongues unless Zara wants to
get into trouble."
"In what way?" asked Clarice, quickly.
"Can you see? Zara could get into trouble for not having given the
alarm when she saw Ferdy--as she thought--kill Horran. Then, again,
the mere fact that Osip was in Zara's company is suspicious. I have
made it clear that Ferdy is innocent, and that Jerce was guilty, and
that now the doctor and Barras are dead, and Osip is arrested, the
best thing will be for Zara to give up Ferdy and hold her tongue for
her own sake and for her mother's."
"And what does she say?"
"She has agreed, and so has Mrs. Dumps. They will neither of them say
a single word."
"But Mrs. Dumps has such a long tongue."
"About other people's affairs, but about her own she can be silent
enough. You need have no fear, Clarice. The Purple Fern murders are at
an end with the death of Barras."
"But it is strange, dearest, that Osip should act in this way towards
me," said Clarice, who had explained the letter. Anthony agreed. "I
can't understand the man's nature," he said, "except that we are told
that everything evil has some good in it. I suppose he was touched by
your devotion to Ferdy."
"I suppose he was," said Clarice, wearily. "But now, Anthony, you must
see the new lawyer"--she gave him the name--"and arrange everything
for me. Send Ferdy to Australia with Prudence. I never wish to see him
again. I am so sick and tired, and ill--oh"--she put her arms round
his neck, and placed her cheek against his--"I am ill--I am very, very
ill."
And she was. Anthony had to carry her to her room, and there she lay
for three weeks between life and death. Wentworth said that she had
narrowly escaped an attack of brain fever. But the devotion of Mrs.
Rebson brought her successfully back to health. Yet for weeks she was
still weak, although out of danger, and Anthony would not allow her to
talk of the past. She never asked for Ferdy, although the brother she
had been devoted to never put in an appearance. Ackworth saw the new
lawyer and arranged the affairs of the estate, and made all provisions
for his marriage.
Six months later they were married very quietly in the parish church
of Anthony's native town, and went for the honeymoon to Switzerland.
There, one day, while sitting on the mountains above Les Avants,
watching the grey peak of Jaman soaring into the cloudless summer sky,
Clarice heard all that her husband knew about the conclusion of the
troubles which had begun with the death of Horran.
"Ferdy is in Australia, as you know, darling," Said the lover-husband,
"and is married to Prudence. Mr. Clarke writes me that Ferdy is
behaving very well, and is studying for a doctor. Mr. Clarke himself
has got a church up the country in Victoria. I think everything is
right there."
"He is getting the five hundred a year, as you arranged, my dear. When
he is twenty-five, of course, he will get the two thousand, and let us
hope he will be more sensible."
"I hope so," sighed Mrs. Ackworth, "but Ferdy is a most extraordinary
character. He never seems to think that he is in the wrong."
"Well, a wife like Prudence will keep him straight. Then Osip, as you
know, is dead--"
"No! no!"--Clarice clung to her husband--"don't talk of such things in
this place, Anthony. I never wish to hear the man's name again."
"I won't mention it," said Anthony, gravely. "But for your peace of
mind, dear, I may tell you that he held his tongue to the last.
Everyone thinks that Osip killed Horran, as he killed Barras, and
Jerce is looked upon as a martyr. Would you like me to read his
obituary notices? I kept them."
"No! I don't wish to hear. But there are two things I should like to
know," added Clarice, thoughtfully. "Firstly, how you fancied that you
saw Uncle Henry at the Shah's Rooms?"
"Oh! Ferdy informed me that Barras masqueraded as his client, so as to
deceive people into thinking that Mr. Horran was spending the money,
and that his illness was a blind for profligacy."
"What a wretch Mr. Barras was!"
"Well, he is dead, so we'll forgive him."
"Now," said Clarice, "secondly? How did Zara know that the stamp was
hidden in Ferdy's bedroom?"
"She made him tell her where he had put it," replied Anthony; "you
know how weak Ferdy was."
Clarice sighed: "It is weak people who usually get into trouble," she
said, "and know no escape. Has Zara held her tongue?
"Yes, and they say--the Press says, I mean--that she is going to marry
a wealthy American. For her own sake she will be silent. I don't think
we need worry any more about that past."
"I am glad of that, Anthony. It is more pleasant to look forward to a
bright and quiet future. But I still worry about Ferdy. After all, he
is my twin brother, you know."
"Don't trouble about him, sweetest. He is not worth it, and you may be
sure that he never gives you a thought."
"Well," said Mrs. Ackworth, gravely, "I don't know that I mind. I have
you, and you are my world. But there's only one thing, Anthony--I'll
never wear purple, however fashionable it may become."
Ackworth laughed at this truly feminine speech. "And you will never
look at this again?" he said, teasingly, picking a fern.
"Ugh!" said Clarice, and, catching it from his hand, she flung it down
on the sunny grass. "There--the past is gone with that."
"The Purple Fern has gone with the green fern," said Anthony. "Well,
let it go, darling heart. You and I are together----"
"For ever and ever and ever," said Clarice, nestling in his arms.
"Amen," breathed the husband, piously, and truly meant it.
FINIS.
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CLARKE, ALEXANDER & Co., LIMITED, LONDON AND NORWICH.