VAE VICTIS.
"Those who went forth in brave array
Return again at the close of day,
With tattered banners that flaunted gay,
And swords now broken that once could slay;
Their march is sad and slow.
"Oh, sorrow for those who could not die,
Who, lion-hearted, were forced to fly,
And now for ever in chains must lie;
For hark, there rises the terrible cry--
'Woe to the vanquished, woe.'"
When Mrs. Belswin received a letter from Mr. Dombrain asking her to
call, she was considerably astonished, as she had thought her last
interview with him would have pretty well resigned him to the loss of
her society. But evidently he was now throwing down the gage of
battle, so Mrs. Belswin, like an old war-horse at the sound of a
trumpet, felt a certain exultation at the thought of the coming fight,
and lost no time in assenting to the request of the solicitor.
What he wanted to see her about she could not imagine, unless it was
to make another offer for the Pole Star shares, and as she had already
set his mind at rest on that point, it seemed ridiculous to think that
he would waste his time in trying to encompass the impossible. She was
now quite at ease in her own mind regarding money matters, as the
hundred pounds she had obtained from Silas, together with what she
already had in the bank, would enable her and Kaituna to live in
comfort for the next three or four months in an economical way. Of
course, she quite expected to be in possession of the other four
hundred the next week, which would place them in affluence until the
report of Toby came home about the Pole Star shares, and judging from
the offer made by Dombrain, Mrs. Belswin, with feminine acuteness,
guessed that the shares were more valuable than they now appeared to
be, so that their sale in a few months would realise a decent sum for
Kaituna. If this turned out to be the case, Mrs. Belswin intended to
persuade Kaituna to marry Archie at once, and the future of her child
being thus secured, she cared little for herself. She could certainly
marry herself, as both Ferrari and Belk were devoted to her, but she
despised the first for his cowardice in the matter of removing her
husband, and the latter, in spite of his good looks, was of too lowly
a station for her to think seriously of in any way.
Since her departure from Thornstream, Belk had written to her several
times--ardent, passionate letters, which showed plainly how deeply in
love he was with her; and Mrs. Belswin could not but feel a thrill of
pride at the thought of her own attractions, even at the mature age of
forty-five. At present, however, she had more important things to
think of than marriage, and drove along to Dombrain's office in a
puzzled state of mind, trying to think of the reason why he wanted to
see her, so that she could be prepared to hold her own.
That Silas had stolen a march on her she never for a moment dreamed;
and had she guessed the real object of the interview sought by Mr.
Dombrain, she would doubtless have felt somewhat ill at ease. As it
was, however, she knew nothing; and thus, ignorance being bliss, she
walked boldly into the dingy office, and took her accustomed seat with
her usual defiant air.
Dombrain himself was rather nervous, although he now assumed a
bullying manner towards the woman he was afraid of. She had held a
power over him which had hitherto precluded him from talking to her as
he would have wished; but now he had discovered something about her
life which gave him the advantage, and he determined to use his power
to insult, sneer, and crush her; in fact, treat her in the same way as
she had hitherto treated him.
In spite of her violent temper, her foolish impulses, Mrs. Belswin was
not without a certain amount of feminine cunning; and, as she was
quite in the dark concerning the object of the interview, and,
moreover, did not like the ill-concealed look of triumph on the part
of the solicitor, she held her tongue, waiting for him to begin the
attack, so that a chance word might afford her an opportunity of
fathoming his motives.
"Well, Mrs. Belswin," said Dombrain, with a nasty grin on his
coarse-looking face, "and how are you to-day, after your conduct in
our last interview?"
Mrs. Belswin looked him up and down in a sneeringly insolent manner,
which made him writhe.
"I think I ought to ask that question," she said, disdainfully,
"considering that I left you crushed, like the little reptile you
are."
"Oh, no. None of those compliments, if you please. Last time you had
it all your own way; this time I have it all mine."
"Two can play at every game."
"Yes; but one generally holds trumps. This time I hold trumps. Do you
play cards, Mrs. Belswin? If so, you know that the game is to the
player with the strongest hand."
"I congratulate you on your knowledge of gambling. And may I ask what
you are talking about?"
"All in good time, Mrs. Belswin--all in good time. First and foremost,
I wish to know about your visit to Silas Oates. Ah! you start at that.
You are not quite so confident as you were at our last interview."
"I think you are mistaken," replied Mrs. Belswin, coldly. "There can
be nothing to interest you in my interview with Mr. Oates. If you
fancy your knowledge that I called on him makes me afraid, you were
never further from the truth in your life. I am not to be terrified by
an ex-convict."
It was the old threat that had formerly reduced Mr. Dombrain to
silence; but now it appeared to have lost its power, for the
ex-convict leaned back in his chair and laughed insolently.
"People who live in glass houses should not throw stones."
"What do you mean?"
"Exactly what I say."
"You seem to have been at your private whiskey-bottle," said Mrs.
Belswin, rising impatiently; "but as I am not in the mood to listen to
your drunken ravings I will go."
"Oh, no, you won't. Of course you can if you like; but you had better
hear what I have to say."
"I will give you five minutes," replied Mrs. Belswin, resuming her
seat, "no more."
"That will be enough. Now, just listen to me. Mr. Oates has called,
and informed me of your attempt to blackmail him. You have got one
hundred pounds, and he says he will not give you any more."
"That is a question that has nothing to do with you, sir."
"Oh, yes, it has," retorted Dombrain, coolly. "He asked me to stop you
from calling on him again, and I intend to do so."
Mrs. Belswin laughed long and loudly.
"Do you, indeed? And may I ask how you intend to stop me?"
Mr. Dombrain leaned across the desk, glanced round to make sure they
were alone, then whispered slowly--
"By asking you how you killed your husband."
She sprang to her feet with a pale face, her eyes flashing fiercely.
"It's a lie! You know I had nothing to do with it."
"I'm afraid a jury wouldn't take that view if they heard my evidence."
"Your evidence! the evidence of a felon."
"That's a pretty name, but instead of abusing me, you'd better look
after yourself."
Mrs. Belswin sat down again and spoke deliberately.
"I don't know what your object is in talking like this, but I will
take it as a favour if you will let me know precisely how you connect
me with my late husband's death. You say I killed him. You hint you
can prove it. That's a lie, because if that was the case I should be
in prison now. No! No! Mr. Damberton, you are not the man to spare a
woman."
"Certainly not you, who have made my life a hell for the last few
months."
"We can exchange these compliments afterwards. First your story."
Dombrain, who was growing weary of all this fencing, lost no time in
responding to this request, and began at once.
"As you know, I was staying at Thornstream on the night you arrived.
Ostensibly, I had come down to see Sir Rupert on business, but my real
motive was to see how you intended to meet him. You did not appear at
dinner, and I thought you would put off the interview until the next
day. I was tired with my day's work, and was about to retire to rest
when I saw you descending the stairs, upon which I hid myself, lest
you should see me."
"Coward!" ejaculated Mrs. Belswin, disdainfully.
"No, I was no coward, but had I been foolish enough to have spoken to
you, in one of your paroxysms of anger, you might have revealed my
true position to Sir Rupert, out of spite."
Mrs. Belswin thought how she had really done this, and how ignorant
the man before her was of his narrow escape from exposure--an exposure
only prevented by the death of Pethram.
"Therefore," resumed Dombrain, coldly, "I hid myself, but I watched
the door of the study. You entered there, and the door was closed. A
long time passed--the servants put out the lights, shut up the house,
and retired to rest. Miss Pethram, I have learned since, retired early
on account of a headache, and as the whole Thornstream household kept
country hours, by the time the clock struck ten--the hall clock I am
speaking of--all the house was asleep except you, Sir Rupert, and
myself. The half-hour sounded, still you had not left the study--the
three-quarters struck, but the door was still closed. I waited, and
waited, and wondered. Eleven sounded from the clock in the hall, and
at a few minutes past the door opened, and you appeared, pale and
ghastly, like a guilty spectre. Closing the door softly after you,
with a furtive look round, lest some one should be watching, you fled
upstairs, brushed past me, and went into your bedroom. This was all I
wanted to see. I knew you had met your husband, that he had not turned
you out of the house, so never dreaming that you had committed a crime
to screen your real self, I went to bed. Next morning----"
He flung open his arms with a dramatic gesture, quite in keeping with
the stagey way in which he had told the story, and became silent, with
his small eyes viciously fastened on the unfortunate woman before him.
She was sitting like an image of stone, pale and still, with tightly
compressed lips, and a lurid fire burning in her fierce eyes. Only the
nervous working of her hands lying in her lap betrayed her deep
agitation, and when he had finished, she looked at him with a smile of
disdain.
"And you saw all this wonderful thing like a cat in the dark," she
said, scoffingly.
"No! You know perfectly well that the hall lamp was still lighted, for
Sir Rupert himself had told the servants not to wait up, as he would
work late, and he would put it out himself. I saw perfectly well all I
have described and you know it."
"So you think I killed my husband?"
"I'm sure of it. According to the evidence at the inquest, the time of
his death was between ten and eleven. I can prove that you left the
room at eleven o'clock, so you must have left your dead husband behind
you."
"If you saw all this, why did you not tell it at the inquest?"
"Because I wished to spare you."
"No! No! Don't lie to me like that. I am your bitter enemy! Why did
you spare me?"
"I will tell you. Whether you killed Sir Rupert or not was nothing to
me, personally. My reputation as a lawyer is a great deal to me. Had I
denounced you, the result would have been----"
"That I should have told all about you, and you would have been struck
off the rolls. Ah! I thought you had some motive for sparing me. Well,
what do you intend to do now?"
"Tell all, unless you promise to leave Oates alone."
"If you do your position will still be lost."
"I know it, I know it!" cried Dombrain in despair; "but what can I do?
If I do not stop your going to Oates, he knows me, and he will tell
all. If I do stop you, then you in revenge will tell all."
"I see, you are between two fires," said Mrs. Belswin, calmly. "Well,
set your mind at rest; I will trouble Silas Oates no more."
"You will not?"
"No. All I wanted out of him was money, but as to that you will take
his place and be my banker."
"I?"
"Yes, you! Pshaw, man, you needn't look so scared! You know well
enough that the money will be returned to you when those shares are
sold."
"But they are worth nothing."
"So I thought until you wanted to buy them," said Mrs. Belswin, with a
sneer.
"You forget I hold your life in my hand!" cried Dombrain,
threateningly.
"Well, and I hold your position in mine," retorted Mrs. Belswin. "My
life is a great deal to me, your position is everything to you. I am
willing to leave Silas Oates alone if you give me money when I require
it; if not, you can denounce me when you like."
"And then you will be hanged!" said Dombrain, spitefully.
"Bah! I can prove your story to be a lie."
"How so?"
"I'll tell you now. Good heavens! did you think that if I was guilty
I'd think my life safe in your keeping? My neck against your position?
Bah! the thing is ridiculous. I can clear myself and ruin you at the
same time, but I want no scandal, nor my daughter to know who I am, as
she inevitably must had I to publicly defend myself of your charge of
murder. So you see that on my side I have as much a desire as you to
keep matters quiet. Now then, I'll leave Silas Oates alone, I will not
go near him; but if I want money you must supply it."
"I will do so--to any reasonable amount," replied Dombrain, hastily.
"But you say you are innocent?"
"And I am."
"After what I've seen I don't believe it. If you did not kill him, who
else had a motive?"
"How do I know? I was not in all the secrets of Sir Rupert's life. But
I can tell to you, so afraid of losing your pettifogging position,
what I dare not tell any one else. I saw Sir Rupert's dead body on
that night, but I did not kill him."
"Then you know who did?"
"No, I do not."
"Let me hear your story," said Dombrain, with a disbelieving smile.
"When I entered the study," began Mrs. Belswin, without further
preamble, "I saw my husband. He recognised me at once. We had a
stirring interview, and he turned me out of the house. I left by the
French window, where he was found lying dead; and in order to get
shelter for the night, I went to 'The Chequers' in Deswarth. I'm not
telling you all the story, mind you, but only what suits myself. In
the dock I should tell everything. Well, to resume. I waited at 'The
Chequers' for some time, and then determined to return to Thornstream
to say good-bye to my daughter, as I knew Sir Rupert would prevent me
seeing her the next day. I arrived on the terrace just when the hour
of eleven sounded. There was still a light in Sir Rupert's study, and
stealing along in the dark, I saw his dead body lying half in and half
out of the window. A full sense of the danger of my position flashed
on me, and I saw that if I was arrested I was lost. I dare not try to
enter the house by any door as they were all locked, and if a servant
admitted me I should have to account for my being out at that hour of
the night, which would lead to my being accused of the murder. The
only way to regain my own room in safety was across the dead body of
my husband, so I entered by the French window, left by the study door,
and regained my bedroom without any one having seen me--except you. I
did not kill him! I swear I did not!"
"I'm afraid that story would not go down in a court of law."
"I told you I had kept some of the story to myself. To use your
favourite illustration, I still hold my trump card."
There was silence for a few moments, during which Mrs. Belswin,
considerably agitated, used her smelling-bottle freely. Then Dombrain
spoke.
"Well, there's nothing more to be said."
"I think not," said Mrs. Belswin, rising. "You know my conditions!"
"And you know mine, I think," retorted Dombrain with a malignant grin.
She cast upon him a glance of supreme contempt, and went to the door.
"I'll see you again when I want money," she said, and vanished.
"Humph!" said Mr. Dombrain, thoughtfully; "if I can find out the part
of the story you won't tell, I may be able to stop your seeing me
altogether."