DISCLOSES A STRANGE TRUTH
"I think, Lola, I had better explain to them the circumstances in which
we met," young Craig exclaimed with frankness. His hand was still upon
her shoulder, his eyes gazing straight into hers with that intense
love-light which, in this world of falsity and fraud, is one of the
things which can never be feigned.
"Yes, do," she urged, clinging closely to him, her frail frame
trembling, for she was still upset and unnerved.
"Well, last January, I was staying with my mother at the _Hôtel Adlon_,
in Berlin, for though I have a place near Monmouth called Huttoft Hall,
left to me by my father, Sir Alexander Craig, I am constantly on the
Continent. As a bachelor I prefer life abroad, and indeed, at that time,
I had not been in England since I came of age, four years before. At the
hotel, I found Lola staying with her uncle--that man!" and he pointed to
Jeanjean--held there prisoner. "He called himself Dr. Paul Arendt, and
gave himself out to be a Belgian from Liège. He was very affable, and we
became on friendly terms, while my mother took a great fancy to Lola.
After about ten days or so an English friend of Arendt's, a young man
named Richard Perceval, arrived, and we three men went about Berlin, and
saw the sights and the night-life, a good deal together. This went on
for nearly three weeks, Lola and I becoming very fast friends. At last,
however, her uncle being suddenly recalled to Paris, we were compelled
to part, though we constantly exchanged letters. From Berlin, my mother
moved to Cannes, and I followed her. We spent February and March on the
Riviera, and then went north to the Italian Lakes, the most lovely spot
in Europe in the springtide." He paused and, turning to the girl, said,
"Now, Lola, will you explain what happened?"
The man under arrest again fought violently for freedom. His face was
flushed with exertion, his long teeth clenched, his black eyes starting
wildly from his head. Now that the villainous old man he had obeyed as
master was dead, he saw that he must, at all hazards, save himself.
From his grey lips there issued a torrent of abuse, and the most fearful
maledictions, in the French tongue.
Lola, requested by her lover to speak, held her breath for a moment, and
then, with an effort, calming the flood of emotion that arose within
her, said in her pretty English--
"After we met in Berlin, I, at my uncle's orders, ingratiated myself
with Lady Craig, for the purpose of ascertaining whether she had with
her jewellery of any value. Meanwhile, finding that Edouard had become
very friendly with me, he at once instituted inquiries and found that
Lady Craig was widow of Sir Alexander Craig, Knight, who had died
leaving his only son possessor of a great fortune and a large estate
near Monmouth. He also, through inquiries made by Vernon, found that
Edouard had not been in England since he came of age. Vernon and my
uncle met secretly one day at Frankfort, whereupon the crafty old man
elaborated an ingenious plan which, within a few days, was put into
execution. Among Vernon's wily confederates was a very smart,
gentlemanly young man named Richard Perceval, who had been an actor, and
who was the same height and much the same build as Edouard. This man
came to our hotel in Berlin, but with what object I was, then, entirely
ignorant. I now know that the reason he joined us was in order to
carefully watch Mr. Craig's manners, his gait, his style of dress, and
all his idiosyncrasies. While Edouard was unaware of it, he took many
snapshots of him in secret, and one day for a joke they both went to a
photographer's and had their portraits taken, the object of my uncle and
Perceval being to obtain a thoroughly good likeness of M'sieur Craig.
After three weeks, however, their preparations being completed, though
I, of course, had no suspicion as to what was intended, we left Berlin
and returned to Paris."
"To Brussels," interrupted the notorious criminal. "Be correct, at
least." And his face broadened in an evil grin.
"To Brussels first, and then next day to Paris," Lola went on. "For some
weeks nothing was done, it seems. I had constant letters from Edouard,
who was at Beau Site, at Cannes, and I frequently wrote to him there.
Then I accompanied my uncle to Algiers, where we remained some time, our
movements being always sudden and always uncertain. My uncle, at
Algiers, was engaged with his wireless telegraphy, sending and receiving
messages from nowhere. Meanwhile, old Vernon's wits were at work and he
laid his plans for a great _coup_. He took Richard Perceval to Cromer,
then dull, sleepy, and out-of-season, the young man arriving there as
his nephew, Edward Craig. He possessed an exact counterpart of M'sieur
Craig's wardrobe, his hair was cut in the style you see Edouard wearing
it, and by means of certain small but expert touches to his countenance,
so artistic as not to be discernible, he had become transformed into the
exact counterpart of the owner of Huttoft. Early in June we returned
from Algiers to Paris, and my uncle, leaving me, went to London. Then,
when he returned to the Boulevard Pereire three days later, I noticed a
great change in him. He seemed greatly incensed with the Master."
"Had they quarrelled?" I inquired eagerly.
"Yes, over the division of the profits arising from the theft, in the
month of March, of four hundred thousand francs' worth of diamonds, and
pearls from a Paris jeweller named Benoy, while he was in a motor-car in
the Forest of Fontainebleau. Vernon, he told me, had sold the stones and
had retained three-fourths of the plunder. My uncle was furious and
vowed most terrible vengeance. Next day, he sent me from Paris direct
to Norfolk with a letter to Vernon. On arrival in Cromer I was utterly
astounded to meet Perceval in the street dressed as Edouard Craig and
presenting an exact likeness to him! Perceval, however, did not see me,
and I went to Beacon House, delivered the letter to the old man,
obtained a reply, returned to London, and next day to Paris. From my
uncle, who became more incensed than ever against Vernon on receipt of
the reply to his letter, I managed to elicit what was intended. This was
that Vernon, knowing that Edouard lived always on the Continent, and had
not been home for four years, had devised a devilish plan by which
Perceval, representing himself to be the owner of Huttoft, was to obtain
from his late father's lawyers, a reputable firm whose address is in
Lincoln's Inn Fields, the deeds relating to the great Huttoft estate, as
well as a quantity of family jewels, and raise a large mortgage upon the
property from a well-known firm of money-lenders. The preliminary
negotiations with the latter had already been opened, and it was only a
question of days when the bogus Edouard Craig, already practised in the
art of forging the signature of the real M'sieur Craig, would present
himself to his late father's solicitors. The deep cunning of the whole
plot, and the fine and elaborate detail in which it had all been worked
out, held me aghast. If carried out, it was expected that fully seventy
thousand pounds would be neatly netted and the bogus Craig would
disappear into thin air!"
"What did you do then?" I asked, amazed at her revelation.
"At once I wrote to M'sieur Craig, who was at Villa d'Este, on the Lake
of Como, asking him to meet me in secret in Paris, at the earliest
possible moment. He met me one afternoon in the tea-rooms in the corner
of the Place Vendome, and there I told him what I had discovered.
And--and--well, I was forced to confess to him, for the first time, that
I was a thief." She added in a changed voice, "the cat's paw of my
uncle. I know I----"
"That's enough, Lola!" exclaimed the young man. "We need not refer to
that. With Mr. Vidal, I am fully aware that your connection with those
terrible crimes has been a purely innocent one. You have been forced
into assisting them--held to them and to silence on pain of death."
"Yes," I added, "that's true. Lola is innocent. I vouch for that."
"Yes. Put upon my guard by Lola," Craig exclaimed, "I crossed at once to
London, and without revealing who it was who intended to personate me, I
told old Jerningham, the solicitor, to be careful. I remained in London
a week, and then, unable to further repress my curiosity, I went to
Cromer. I----"
"Ah, perhaps I had better continue my narrative, so that we shall be
rightly understood," Lola interrupted, with cheeks flushed in her
excitement. "A couple of days after Edouard had gone to London, my
uncle, stung to fury by a letter he had received from old Vernon,
suddenly announced that we were both going to Cromer. Therefore, we left
Paris, and duly landed at Charing Cross, just in time to catch the last
train up to Cromer, where we arrived between ten and eleven o'clock at
night. In order to spring a surprise upon Vernon, we evaded the hotel
and went to some rooms in Overstrand Road for which he had already
telegraphed, having seen an advertisement in a railway guide."
"To the house where he afterwards lodged?" I asked.
"Yes. He had taken the same name he had used in Berlin, Doctor Arendt,"
she replied. "Well, I had gone to my room, but was standing at the open
window, without switching on the light, when I saw him leave the house.
Wondering what might be in progress, I put on my knitted golf coat and
cap, and went after him. He took a long night-ramble past the flashing
lighthouse on the cliff, and away across the golf-links, towards
Overstrand, apparently reflecting deeply, his anger rising more and more
against Vernon, whom he had accused of robbing him. For a long time I
watched as he sat upon a log on top of the cliffs about a mile and a
half from the town, gazing out upon the sea, and smoking a cigar, I
having hid myself behind a bush. I was rather sorry I had come out, yet
in the circumstances, and in the interests of Edouard, I felt it my duty
to watch in patience. At last my uncle rose and strolled back over the
golf-course, along the cliff-path, towards the town. As he came along
over the low hill from the lighthouse, strolling on the grass, and
making no sound, he suddenly discerned upon a seat the figure of a man
in wide-brimmed hat and cape seated with his back to him and looking out
to sea. The night was warm and pleasant, a calm and perfect night on the
North Sea----"
"Were you near him?" Sommerville interrupted.
"I was walking along under the shadow of the hedge, while he walked over
the open, undulating ground," was the girl's reply. "On recognizing the
Master seated there, he was apparently seized by a sudden impulse of
revenge--perhaps cupidity as well--for I saw him creep up behind the
seat, and taking something from his pocket, thrust it quick as a flash
into the old man's face. The man attacked clawed the air frantically,
rose to his feet, staggered a few steps, and reeling, fell to the ground
without uttering a sound--dead. I saw, in my uncle's hand a
strange-looking and most terrible instrument, which he sometimes carried
when engaged on one of his desperate exploits, a specially-constructed
pistol the barrel of which was of soft india-rubber and finishing in a
bell-mouth about three inches across. This he had suddenly pressed over
the old man's nose and mouth--as he had done, alas! I knew, in other
cases where the victim had been found dead, and doctors had been unable
to establish the mysterious cause--then, pulling the trigger, he had
discharged a glass capsule containing a mixture of compressed amyl
nitrate and hydrocyanic gas, which, when released, a single inhalation
caused instant death. The discoverer of the compound killed himself
accidentally by it. Aghast, I stood watching him. He bent and examined
the dead man's face. Then he searched his pockets, took out something,
and then, moving quickly, dashed away towards the town, evidently
alarmed at his own action."
And the girl paused, the accused man before her shouting strenuous
denials.
"The instant he had gone," she continued, "I crept over the grass, past
the seat whereon the dead man had rested, and, bending to see if he was
still breathing, I found to my horror and dismay that it was not the
Master at all, but his supposed nephew, Richard Perceval! Back I hurried
to the house where we had rooms, and entering noiselessly--for I had
been taught to move without noise at night"--and she smiled grimly at
me. "I found my uncle had, fortunately, not yet come in. Therefore I
retired to bed. Next morning we left hurriedly for London, Jeanjean not
daring to face Vernon after what had occurred, and moreover, ignorant of
the fact that Vernon had left Cromer during the night, alarmed by the
real Edouard Craig calling upon him, and hinting that he knew the truth
concerning certain recent jewel robberies. Jeanjean, however, returned
to Cromer a few days later, and I followed and helped to secure the
jewels Vernon had left behind."
"Yes," Craig exclaimed. "True. I saw nothing of Perceval on that evening
when I called upon old Vernon. My visit, however, completely upset him.
Lola had telegraphed to me that she was coming to England, therefore I
asked Vernon where she was. The old scoundrel replied that she was in
Cromer, and that if I went at a certain hour at night to a seat upon the
East Cliff, which he indicated, I should meet her there--that she had a
tryst with a secret lover. This naturally upset me, and I went, only to
discover Perceval, dressed in the old man's cape and hat, lying stark
dead. Why was he wearing those clothes, I wonder?"
"I have only recently learnt the truth," Lola answered. "When you, saw
the old man, he believed me to be still in Paris, but when you inquired
for me he, keen and crafty as he was, instantly discerned a means by
which to entrap you. Therefore, saying nothing of his fear and intended
flight to Perceval, he arranged with that young impostor that the latter
should go to the seat dressed as himself, face you on your arrival,
Edouard, and close your mouth for ever by exactly the same dastardly,
silent and instant method as that adopted by Jeanjean--the gas pistol.
My uncle found the weapon upon the body and carried it off."
"You had a very narrow escape, Mr. Craig," I remarked. "I sincerely
congratulate you."
"Ah! I know," the young man said hastily. "Had not that man yonder
killed Perceval by mistake, I should most certainly by now have been a
dead man. But when I quickly realized the tragedy that had happened, and
feared lest I might be suspected, I went off, and making my way out of
the town, I walked through the night for twenty miles to Norwich, whence
I took train to London, and at once back to Italy."
"Did you afterwards read of the affair in the papers?" asked
Sommerville, amazed, like ourselves at the startling revelations.
"Of course. I followed every detail. But I did not come forward, for two
reasons. First I was--I frankly confess--deeply in love with Lola, and
feared to implicate her; and, secondly, for my mother's sake. I had no
desire to be mixed up in such an unsavoury and sensational affair, or
with such a notorious gang of criminals."
"Did you see much of Lola after the affair at Cromer?" I queried.
"I saw her once in Petersburg, where I followed her, also in Paris, and
again in London."
"And also once at Boscombe--eh?" I added, "when you were so very
annoyed."
"How do you know," he asked, starting, and at the same time laughing.
"Because I met you, and believing you had arisen from the dead, I
watched you."
"I was in entire ignorance of it," he declared. "Yes, I was annoyed
that night, for, on looking inside the room, I saw a young man standing
beside the piano, admiring Lola."
"Oh!" she cried. "How foolish of you, Edouard! That was Mr. Burton, who
is engaged to Winifred Featherstone!"
While these revelations had been made, Jules Jeanjean, wanted by the
police of nearly every country in Europe for a number of desperate
crimes, remained silent, listening to the words of Lola and her lover,
listening to the grim story of his own murderous treachery towards the
man whom he had acknowledged as Master.
Suddenly, without warning, he burst from the men who held him, and with
a spring bounded like some wild animal towards Lola, and would have
thrown himself upon her, and strangled her, were it not that we all fell
upon him with one accord, and threw him to the ground, while handcuffs
were placed upon his wrists to prevent further violence.
"You infernal devils!" he cried in French. "I vowed you should never
take me alive--and you shan't. You hear!" he yelled. "You shan't. I defy
you!"
"Ah!" laughed Sommerville in triumph. "But thanks to Mr. Vidal, we have
at last got you, my ingenious friend." Then turning to Rayner, he said:
"Will you go and get two taxis? We'll take him to Bow Street, and the
other fellow also."
Jeanjean cursed and shouted defiance, but his captors only laughed at
him. In those gyves of steel he was their prisoner, and held for the
justice he so richly deserved.