My first impulse was to call the police, but he noticed my intention,
and his hand was laid hurriedly upon my mouth.
"There's nothing to fear--I'm not the man," he said. "Make no noise,
and keep your own counsel. I can tell you plenty about this, if you
care to listen."
The words fell dimly and indistinctly upon my ears. I was stunned and
speechless--it was as if some vast substance had struck me an
annihilating blow, which, while paralysing my senses to a certain
degree, yet left me half oblivious. It was clear we were in a cab,
driving aimlessly about London streets at a late hour. It was also true
that I had once more seen that fatal, horrible symbol, associated with
which were the most terrifying and agonising events of my life. I could
not, however, speak, and it was only by great effort that I retained my
courage.
My companion stooped and picked up something that had fallen at our
feet. It was the paper to which the seal was affixed, that had dropped
from my nerveless fingers.
Suddenly an icy-cold hand was laid upon my forehead.
"Wake up! wake up!--be a man! I've told you to fear nothing with me.
We're wasting precious time. Arouse yourself for once in your life!"
My senses returned as suddenly as they had fled. The horror of feeling
his hand--a hand that had in its possession the seal--recalled me. I
sat upright and drew to my side of the cab as much as I could.
"Ah!" he exclaimed bitterly, "you are still afraid of me. See here,
now," and he leaned across, speaking deliberately and with quiet
emphasis, "I may die to-night, but--"
"What!" I exclaimed, "you die to-night?"
"Yes," he replied, in the same cool and determined tone. "You seem
incredulous, but I am sure. Look!"
He put his hand to the back of his head and withdrew it, holding it
before my eyes.
"Blood! Good heavens?" I ejaculated, as again the light revealed his
thin grimy fingers.
"True, and I've not long to live--all the more reason, is it not, that I
should make haste? Will you come to my home, _now_?"
"At once. But let us drive to a doctor and see about your head." All
my repugnance had vanished.
"Wait," he said, shouting to the cabman an address. I remember that we
at once altered our course, but whither we were proceeding I cared not--
knew not. Here was, perhaps, an elucidation of the mystery forthcoming,
and I had nearly done my utmost to prevent it.
"Go on; tell me all you can," I demanded, when, after considerable
persuasion, he had consented to have his head bound up as well as my
slight knowledge of surgery permitted.
"Presently. When we get home--or what was once my home," he rejoined.
He was paler than before, and leaned back in a state apparently of the
utmost exhaustion. His necktie had been loosened, and I had placed my
travelling rug around the thinly-covered chest, yet in spite of this the
severe reaction affected him severely. Sometimes he closed his eyes,
and every now and then, when we passed along streets where the lights
were more brilliant than in others, he stared vacantly at the roof of
the cab.
Once, when I was leaning over him, making him a little more comfortable,
a tear rolled down the thin, haggard cheek.
The journey seemed interminable. Street after street we traversed, and
yet our journey's end appeared as far off as ever. We had evidently
wandered a long way before our driver received a definite address, or
possibly he was lengthening the course for his own benefit.
The fact was that, in my impatience, it appeared longer than it really
would have done.
Eventually we regained the Strand, and shortly afterwards our conveyance
came to a standstill in what appeared to be anything but an inviting
neighbourhood. Not a soul was about, and the empty street rattled
loudly as we clattered along it.
We were in Drury Lane, before the entrance to a narrow squalid court.
As we stopped I turned with a sigh of relief to my companion, who,
however, stirred not.
A fearful misgiving entered my heart. Was it possible he was dead?
Profoundly thankful I felt when, after shaking him, he turned and opened
his eyes.
"Come; is this the place?" I asked, assisting him to his feet.
He followed me mechanically, but leaned very heavily on my arm as we
stood for a moment while I paid the cabman.
"Where is it?" was my next question.
With an effort he composed himself, passing his hand wearily over his
eyes. He appeared much changed. Inwardly deploring my forgetfulness, I
drew my flask from my pocket and tendered him a pull, which he accepted
with feverish energy.
"Ah! that puts new life into one!" he exclaimed, with a gasp.
His tone struck me as peculiar, and, regarding him attentively, it was
plainly to be seen that he was in a very faint condition.
"This way," he continued, as, bracing himself up, he led the way up the
court.
"Here--here was where I found her, murdered!"
"Who?" I asked, instantly.
"My wife."
The words were simple ones, and might have been spoken and heard a
thousand times on any day; but at that time, and in those circumstances,
they thrilled me indescribably. If those two words had been uttered by
an enthusiastic lover to his bride for the first time, they could not
have been more tenderly breathed.
Brushing aside all sentiment, however, I inquired, coldly, "When was
this?"
"On the night of the fourth of March."
"What! that was the night after I returned from Russia!" I exclaimed,
involuntarily. "And the seal. Was that found upon her?"
"It was. But hush! we may be overheard. Let us go in."
Filled with horror and amazement, I followed him up the tortuous stairs
of a house in close proximity to the spot. After mounting several
flights in utter darkness, we entered an attic--as it proved on striking
a match--containing only the scantiest possible furniture. In one
corner stood a bed, and by it a broken wicker-bottomed chair. An old
box was placed near the broken fireplace rusted by damp, and that, with
a few other articles, formed the whole contents of the miserable
apartment.
He lighted the piece of candle which was upon the box, and after
carefully closing the door, we sat down.
Scarcely had we done this, however, than he fell forward with a crash
upon the bare floor, the blood at the same time gushing out afresh from
the wound at the back of the head, and forming a small pool. Greatly to
my relief he spoke almost immediately, although in such low tones as to
be scarcely audible.
"It's useless to call for assistance, for the house is empty. Lay me on
the bed, if you can, and I'll tell you all--everything."
"But you are hurt, and must be attended to," I said. There was a pang
at my heart all the time, for, with my selfish desire to solve the
mystery at once, this new wound meant fresh delay.
"If you leave me you will, on returning, find me dead. Lay me on the
bed; keep quiet, and listen."
Those were the words he spoke, and strangely calm and composed they
seemed. With a precipitation which I have never ceased to deplore, I
lifted him as he desired, and gave up the idea of trying to obtain
medical aid at that hour in a quarter unknown to me.
He was soon arranged as comfortably as possible. The spectacle he
presented--spare, pale and gaunt, propped up on a squalid bed, the
pillows all stained with blood--will never be erased from my memory.
At a sign from him I snuffed the cheap candle and drew closer to his
side.
"A year ago on the fourth of next March," he commenced, speaking
deliberately, but in a very weak voice, "my wife left me for a few
hours. We were in utter poverty, for our little all had been stolen
from us by my wife's brother-in-law. You may have guessed already that
I was not always what I appear now. At one time--"
"But," I interrupted, "had you not better tell me why you have brought
me here, before--"
"Before it is too late, eh? You're right. Well, my wife left me on a
desperate errand. She went to ask for money from some one over whom she
had a great hold--and--and she never came home."
He paused to gain breath. My heart beat violently as I noted the great
effort he had to make for respiration.
"The man she went to see was--who?"
"Wait! By mere accident she knew his secret. One night, a long time
ago, she told me that a gold mine had been opened to her. In the City,
at a public-house where she had called, she met her sister Jane, who
gave her a five-pound note. A few days afterwards Nell went to see some
gentleman, and came home with a lot of money. She said she knew a
secret out of which we both might make our fortunes. In the meantime
Jane had disappeared. They were sisters, and so much alike that one
could scarcely tell the difference. Open the box with this key, and
give me the portrait you'll find there."
Chafing with impatience I did as he required and quickly found the
picture.
The little photograph was of the ordinary cheap pattern, and presented
the features of a rather attractive young woman.
"This," said my strange narrator, taking it in his trembling hand, "is
my wife's picture, and it will do very well for Jane's. We saw little
of her, as she moved about so much, sometimes in England and sometimes
abroad."
"Really this does not throw much light on the occurrence," I remarked.
"What connects me with all this?"
"The fact that you witnessed the murder at Bedford Place," he replied.
"You have seen the man who killed Mrs Inglewood, and he also, I am
certain, murdered my wife! You may well stare; but consider well, as I
have done, and you will come to the same conclusion. When Nell left me
she said, `Good-bye Ned; I know it's a dangerous errand I'm on, but
don't fret.' It was dangerous--fatal. When I found she did not return
I went out. It was dark, and a very few steps from my door I stumble on
a drunken woman lying in a corner. When I looked closer my head reeled,
and I nearly fainted--it was Nell! On her breast was the--the--"
"The seal!" I exclaimed.
He did not answer. Gradually his voice had become fainter, till it was
only by placing my ear almost to his mouth that I caught the
feebly-uttered syllables.
Putting the candle to his face I saw that his eyes were fixed on
vacancy, while huge drops of dank perspiration stood upon the
tightly-drawn skin of the forehead.
Evidently my mysterious acquaintance was dying rapidly. What was to be
done?
The fatal secret was yet locked in his bosom.
Maddened with a feverish anxiety I emptied the brandy remaining in the
flask down his throat, afterwards wiping his pallid face with my
handkerchief.
My efforts for a time seemed in vain, but by degrees the breathing
became more perceptible. Presently he opened his eyes.
"Thanks, thanks," he murmured, his hands clutching convulsively over
mine with each respiration.
"Are you better now?" I asked.
He disregarded my question, and appeared to be endeavouring to recall
his thoughts.
"Ah, yes, it was the seal that was on Nell,--yes, the seal, and I took
it off. It's in the box, along with the portrait."
"And you wanted me--for what?" I said, inquiringly, for he seemed to be
losing himself again.
"You? Who are you?"
The question fell with a terrible weight upon my ears--it was clear that
the man's senses had fled.
"Frank Burgoyne is my name," was my reply. "You were going to tell me
who it was your wife went to see, and why you wanted me."
"Wanted you? Ah, yes! I've seen you before--in Drury Lane. Nell
showed you to me, for you gave evidence at the inquest. Yes, I've seen
you!"
In a moment the remembrance of that mysterious encounter in Drury Lane
came vividly back to me.
Was this the suspicious character who had come up as if he meant to
speak to me, and who afterwards vanished?
There was something very awful in the ravings of that man during the
next quarter of a hour. At times he was apparently hiding like a beaten
hound, cringing and whining, while from the mention of the Junior
Garrick Club it struck me that he was, in imagination, pleading to be
allowed to stay outside the club house.
"I _will_ see him! I _will_ wait, if I stay here till I die!" he yelled
wildly, struggling to rise.
My endeavours to hold him down were at length successful, and,
apparently exhausted, he lay back, groaning and muttering.
Slowly and wearily the time passed. When at last I looked at my watch
its hands pointed to the hour of half-past four.
In a frenzy of excitement I listened breathlessly for every word, hoping
to catch some clue to the problem. The sick man moaned and ground his
teeth, ever and anon raising his voice, startling me with the suddenness
of the outbursts. Lower and lower sank the candle in its socket, until
I feared that unless the day soon dawned we should be in darkness.
A cold shiver ran through me.
Then strain was beginning to take effect; my limbs trembled with the
tension to which my nerves subjected them.
Presently the day broke, and never was it more welcome.
The candle had just flickered and died out when the injured man spoke
with startling distinctness.
"You shall be revenged, Nell, never fear! I'll find him. He has seen
him once--red-handed _then_. The blood was upon him--he shall be richly
repaid!"
Was he talking of me? I had seen the murderer once, certainly.
"I tell you I will! My oath is sacred. Who will believe me, without
him--without Burgoyne?" he continued in his delirium.
Hoping a sudden fright might bring him to consciousness, I laid my hand
upon his arm sharply, and exclaimed,--
"What do you want me to do?"