"I remember very little of the events of that day," my love said, with
some reluctance. "I know Ashwicke, he having been a guest here last
year, and a frequent visitor at Gloucester Square. With Nora and Sir
Henry I returned to London in early May, after wintering in Florence,
and one morning at the end of June I met Major Tattersett unexpectedly
in the Burlington. He told me that his sister and niece from Scotland
were visiting him at his house in Queen's-gate Gardens, and invited me
to call and make their acquaintance."
"Had you never been to his house previously?"
"Never. He, however, gave me an invitation to luncheon for the
twenty-fourth of July, which I accepted. On arrival I found the Major;
his sister and his niece were out shopping, therefore I sat alone
awaiting them in the drawing-room, when of a sudden I experienced for
the first time that curious sensation of being frozen. I tried to move,
but was unable. I cried out for help, but no one came. My limbs were
stiff and rigid as though I were struck by paralysis, while the pain was
excruciating. I fought against unconsciousness, but my last clear
recollection of those agonising moments was of an indistinct, sinister
face peering into mine. All then became strangely distorted. The
balance of my brain became inverted and I lost my will-power, being
absolutely helpless in the hands of those who directed my movements. I
could not hold back, for all my actions were mechanical, obeying those
around me. I remember being dressed for the wedding, the journey to the
church, my meeting with my future husband--whose face, however, I was
unable to afterwards recall--the service, and the return. Then came a
perfect blank."
"And afterwards?"
"Night had fallen when I returned to my senses, and the strange
sensation of intense cold generally left me. I looked around, and, to
my amazement, saw the pale moon high in the sky. My head was resting
upon something hard, which I gradually made out to be a wooden seat.
Then, when I sat up, I became aware of the bewildering truth--that I was
lying upon one of the seats in Hyde Park."
"In Hyde Park? And you had been placed there while in a state of
unconsciousness?"
"Yes. Upon my finger I found a wedding-ring. Was it possible, I
wondered, that I was actually married to some unknown man?"
"You saw nothing of Ashwicke?"
"I saw no one except the maid-servant who showed me into the
drawing-room, and cannot in the least account for the strange sensation
which held me helpless in the hands of my enemies. I saw the man I
married at the church, but so mistily that I did not recognise you when
we met again."
"But you knew the house in Queen's-gate Gardens. Did you not afterwards
return there, and seek an explanation of Tattersett?"
"On discovering my whereabouts I rose and walked across the park to
Gloucester Square. It was then nearly one o'clock in the morning, but
Nora was sitting up in anxiety as to what had become of me. I had,
however, taken the ring from my finger, and to her told a fictitious
story to account for my tardy return. Two days later I returned to the
house to which Tattersett had invited me, but on inquiry found, to my
amazement, that it was really occupied by a lady named Stentiford, who
was abroad, while the man left in charge knew nothing whatever either of
the Major or of his sister and niece. I told him how I had visited
there two days previously, but he laughed incredulously; and when I
asked for the maid-servant who had admitted me, he said that no maid had
been left there by Mrs Stentiford. In prosecution of my inquiries I
sought to discover the register of my marriage, but, not knowing the
parish in which it had taken place, my search at Somerset House was
fruitless. They told me that the registers were not made up there until
six months or so after the ceremony."
"You did not apply at Doctors' Commons?"
"No," she responded; "I thought the entry would be at Somerset House."
"What previous knowledge had you of the Major?"
"He was a friend of Ashwicke's, who had been introduced to us one night
in the stalls at Daly's. He afterwards dined several times at
Gloucester Square."
"But Sir Henry does not know him."
"It was while he was away at the Cape."
"Then you have not the faintest idea of the reason of our extraordinary
marriage, darling?" I asked, holding her hand. "I have told you all
that actually occurred. Can you form no conclusion whatever as to the
motive?"
"Absolutely none," she answered. "I am as utterly in the dark as
yourself. I cannot understand why you were selected as my husband."
"But you do not regret?" I asked tenderly.
"Regret? No," she repeated, raising her beautiful face to mine, perfect
in its loveliness and purity. "I do not regret now, Richard--because I
love you." And our lips met again in fervent tenderness.
"It is still an absolute mystery," I observed at last. "We know that we
are wedded, but there our knowledge ends."
"We have both been victims of a plot," she responded. "If we could but
discern the motive, then we might find some clue to lead us to the
truth."
"But there is a woman called La Gioia," I said; and, continuing,
explained my presence in the park at Whitton, and the conversation I had
overheard between herself and Tattersett.
Her hand, still in mine, trembled perceptibly, and I saw that I had
approached a subject distasteful to her.
"Yes," she admitted at last, in a hard, strange voice, "it is true that
he wrote making an appointment to meet me in the park that night. I
kept it because I wished to ascertain the truth regarding my marriage.
But he would tell me nothing; he only urged me to secure my own safety
because La Gioia had returned."
"And who is La Gioia?"
"My enemy--my bitterest enemy."
"Can you tell me nothing else?" I asked in a tone of slight reproach.
"I know nothing else. I do not know who or what she is, or where she
lives. I only know that she is my unseen evil genius."
"But you have seen her. She called upon you on that evening at
Gloucester Square when she assumed the character of your dressmaker, and
a few nights ago she was here--in this house."
"Here?" she echoed in alarm. "Impossible!"
Then I related how I had seen her, and how her evil influence had fallen
upon me when afterwards I had entered my room.
"The thing is actually beyond belief," she declared. "Do you really
think you were not mistaken?"
"Most assuredly I was not. It was the woman who called upon you in
London. But you have not told me the reason you were absent from your
room that night." She was silent for a few moments, then answered, "I
met Tattersett. He demanded that I should meet him, as he wished to
speak with me secretly. I did so."
"Why did he wish to see you?"
"In order to prove to me that he had no hand in the tragic affair at
Whitton. I had suspected all along that he was responsible for the
Colonel's death, and my opinion has not altered. I begged him to tell
me the reason of the plot against me, the motive of my marriage, and the
identity of my husband. But he refused point-blank, telling me to ask
La Gioia, who knew everything."
"Have you no idea of her whereabouts?"
"None whatever."
"If we could but find her," I said, "she might tell us something. Ah!
if we could but find her."
My love was trembling. Her heart was filled to overflowing with the
mystery of it all. Yet I knew that she loved me--yes, she loved me.
How long we lingered there upon the terrace I know not, but it was late
ere we re-entered the drawing-room. Who among those assembled guests
would have dreamt the truth--we were man and wife!
As I went upstairs I found a letter lying upon the hall table in the
place where the guests' letters were placed. Barton had, I suppose,
driven into Corsham and brought with him the mail which would, in the
usual course, have been delivered on the following morning. The note
was from Hoefer, a couple of awkwardly scribbled lines asking me to come
and see him without a moment's delay.
Eager to hear whether the queer old fellow had made any discovery, I
departed next morning by the eight o'clock express for London, having
left a note with Beryl's maid explaining the cause of my sudden journey,
and soon after eleven was seated with the old German in his lofty
laboratory. The table was, as usual, filled with various contrivances--
bottles of liquids and test-tubes containing fluids of various hues--
while before him, as I entered, a small tube containing a bright blue
liquid was bubbling over the spirit-lamp, the heat causing the colour to
gradually fade.
"Ah, my frient," he said, with his strong accent, holding out his big
fat hand encased in a stout leather glove, "I am glad you have come--
very glad. It has been a long search, but I haf discovered something,
after all. You see these?"--and he indicated his formidable array of
retorts and test-tubes. "Well, I have been investigating at Gloucester
Square, and have found the affair much more extraordinary than I
believed."
"And you have discovered the truth?" I demanded.
"Yes," he responded, turning down the flame of the lamp and bending
attentively to the bubbling fluid from which all colour had disappeared
while I had been watching. "Shall I relate to you the course of my
investigations?"
"Do. I am all attention."
"Well," he said, leaning both elbows upon the table and resting his chin
upon his hands, while the tame brown rat ran along the table and
scrambled into his pocket, "on the first evening you sought my
assistance I knew, from the remote effects which both of us experienced,
that the evil influence of that mysterious visitor in black, was due to
some unknown neurotic poison. It was for that reason that I was enabled
to administer an antidote without making an exact diagnosis. Now, as
you are well aware, toxicology is a very strange study. Even common
table-salt is a poison, and has caused death. But my own experiments
have proved that, although the various narcotic poisons produce but
little local change, their remote effects are very remarkable. Certain
substances affect certain organs in particular. The remote action of a
poison may be said to be due, in every instance, to its absorption into
the veins or lymphatics, except when there is a direct continuity of
effect traceable from the point where the poison was applied to the
point where the remote effect is shown. It is remarkable that the
agents which most affect the nervous system do not act at all when
applied to the brain or trunks of nerves. Poisonous effects result from
absorption of the poisoning body, and absorption implies solution; the
more soluble, therefore, the compound is, the more speedy are its
effects. Do you follow me?"
"Quite clearly."
"The rapid, remote effect produced on leaving that room made it plain
that I must look for some powerful neurotic poison that may be absorbed
through the skin," he went on. "With this object I searched
microscopically various objects within and without the room, but for a
long time was unsuccessful, when, one morning, I made a discovery that
upon the white porcelain handle of the door a little colourless liquid
had been applied. Greater part of it had disappeared by constant
handling, but there was still some remaining on the shaft of the handle,
and the microscope showed distinct prism-shaped crystals. All these I
secured, and with them have since been experimenting. I found them to
be a more deadly poison than any of the known paralysants or
hyposthenisants, with an effect of muscular paralysis very similar to
that produced by curare, combined with the stiffness about the neck and
inability to move the jaws so apparent in symptoms provoked by
strychnia. The unknown substance--a most deadly, secret poison, and, as
I have since proved, one of those known to the ancients--had been
applied to the door-handle on the inside, so that any person in pulling
open the door to go out must absorb it in sufficient quantity to prove
fatal. Indeed, had it not been for the antidote of chlorine and the
mixed oxides of iron which I fortunately hit upon, death must have
ensued in the case of each of us.
"To determine exactly what was the poison used was an almost
insurmountable task, for I had never met with the substance before; but,
after working diligently all this time, I have found that by treating it
with sulphuric acid it underwent no change, yet by adding a fragment of
bichromate of potassium a series of blue, violet, purple, and red tints
were produced, very similar to those seen in the tests for strychnia.
The same results were brought about, also, by peroxide of lead and black
oxide of manganese. I dried the skin of a frog and touched it with a
drop of solution containing a single one of the tiny crystals, when
strong tetantic convulsions ensued and the animal died in ten seconds.
At last, however, after many other experiments, the idea occurred to me
that it was an alkaloid of some plant unknown in modern toxicology. I
was, of course, aware of the action of the calabar bean of the West
Coast of Africa, the akazga, the datura seeds of India, and such-like
poisons, but this was certainly none of these. It was a substance
terribly deadly--the only substance that could strike death through the
cuticle--utterly unknown to us, yet the most potent of all secret
poisons."
"And how did you determine it at last?"
"By a reference I discovered in an ancient Latin treatise on poisons
from the old monastery at Pavia, now in the British Museum. It gave me
a clue which ultimately led me to establish it as the alkaloid of the
vayana bean. This bean, it appears, was used in the tenth and eleventh
centuries by a sect of the despotic Arab mystics called the Fatimites,
who had made Cairo their capital, and held rule over Syria as well as
the northern coast of Africa. The last Fatimite was, at a later date,
dethroned by Saladin, conqueror of the Koords, and who opposed Richard
the First of England. The poison, introduced from Egypt into Italy, was
known to the old alchemists as the most secret means of ridding one of
undesirable acquaintances. Its effect, it was stated, was the most
curious of any known drug, because, for the time being, it completely
altered the disposition of the individual and caused him to give way to
all sorts of curious notions and delusions, while at the same time he
would be entirely obedient to the will of any second person. Afterwards
came fierce delirium, a sensation as though the lower limbs were frozen,
complete loss of power, exhaustion, and death. But in modern toxicology
even the name of the vayana was lost.
"My first step, therefore, was to seek assistance of the great botanist
who is curator of Kew Gardens, and, after considerable difficulty and
many experiments, we both arrived at the conclusion that it was the bean
of a small and very rare plant peculiar to the oasis of the Ahir in the
south of the Great Sahara. At Kew there was a stunted specimen, but it
had never borne fruit, therefore we both searched for any other specimen
that might exist in England. We heard of one in the wonderful gardens
of La Mortola, near Mentone, and, after diligent inquiries, discovered
that a firm of importers in Liverpool had sold a specimen with the beans
in pod, which was delivered to a person named Turton, living in
Bishop's-wood Road, Highgate, and planted in a small greenhouse there.
I have not been idle," he added with a grin. Then, taking from a drawer
in the table before him a photograph, he handed it to me, saying, "I
have been able to obtain this photograph of Mrs Turton--the lady who
purchased the plant in question."
He held it out to me, and in an instant I recognised the face. It was
that of the woman who had crept so silently through the rooms at
Atworth--La Gioia!
Briefly, I told him all that had transpired on that night, and declared
that I recognised her features, whereat he grunted in satisfaction.
"You have asked me to try and solve the mystery, and I have done so.
You will find this woman living at a house called `Fairmead' in the road
I have indicated. I have not only established the cause of the
phenomena, but I have, at the same time, rediscovered the most
extraordinary and deadly substance known in toxicology. As far as the
present case is concerned, my work is finished--I have succeeded in
making some of the vayana alkaloid. Here it is?" and, taking a small
yellow glass tube, securely corked and sealed, he handed it to me.
In the bottom I saw half a grain of tiny white crystals. I knew now why
he was wearing gloves in his laboratory.
"And have you seen this woman?" I asked the queer old fellow, whose
careful investigations had been crowned with such success. "How did you
know, on the following day, that it was La Gioia who had come in the
guise of a dressmaker?"
"I have seen her, and I have seen the plant. It is from one of the
beans which I secured secretly that I have been able to produce that
substance. I knew her by overhearing a conversation between Miss Wynd
and her cousin on the following morning."
"And the woman is in ignorance that you know the truth?"
"Entirely. I have finished. It is for you now to act as you think
fit."
I expressed admiration for his marvellous patience and ingenuity in
solving the mystery, and, when I left, it was with the understanding
that, if I required his further assistance he would willingly render it.