"Give us your right one, now; or it may go against you."
Why need I? Was it not a disgrace to be arrested? For Vera's sake I
felt I must keep the matter secret.
"Harold Dobson," I replied, uttering the first name that occurred to me.
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-nine." The inspector filled in the charge-sheet.
"Where do you live?"
Again I hesitated.
"No use hatching up any lies! Where do you live?"
"I refuse to say."
"Hum!" muttered the officer as if to himself. "It's only guilty persons
who refuse their address; but if you won't answer, then there's an end
of it. What are you?"
"Nothing."
"Gentleman at large, I suppose," said he, smiling incredulously as he
surveyed my clothes.
"Very well; no occupation," and then there was a silence of some
minutes, only broken by the hissing of the flaring gas-jet, and the
monotonous scratching of the inspector's quill.
"Sign your names," he commanded, when he had finished; and the two
constables who had arrested me appended their signatures.
"Now, prisoner," said the inspector, as he blotted the charge-sheet,
"you are charged with breaking and entering the dwelling-house, Number
4, Angel Court, Drury Lane, for the purpose of committing a felony. I
must caution you that any statement you make will be taken down and used
as evidence against you."
"I don't see how I can be suspected of a felony when the place is
unoccupied," I replied.
"You must leave that point to be decided to-morrow by the magistrate. A
man don't break into a house for nothing."
"Two days ago a man died in that house, and I was searching for his body
in order to give you information," I said.
"That can't be true, sir," interposed one of the men. "The house hasn't
been lived in for a year or more."
"Well, if a man died there a couple of days ago there would be surely be
some furniture, or some traces of habitation. When he's in the cell, go
and examine the premises thoroughly."
"Very well, sir," the man answered.
"Now," said the inspector, turning to me, "have you anything more to
say?"
"Nothing; I've told you the truth."
"Turn out your pockets. We'll take care of your valuables," he said
laying stress on the last word, as if it were not likely my possessions
were worth much.
The constable lifted the bar allowing me to step from the dock, and I
went to a small table and commenced placing the contents of my pockets
thereon. Some silver, my pocket-book, penknife, pencil-case, and other
articles I produced, each of which were examined by the two men.
The pocket-book, one that Vera had given me, attracted the most
curiosity, and one of them opened it and commenced reading my memoranda,
also scrutinising the various papers and cards therein.
"Hulloa, what's this?" he suddenly exclaimed, holding a piece of paper
nearer his eyes and examining it carefully. The ejaculation caused the
other constable to peer over his shoulder, while the inspector rose and
walked towards them.
It was then only that I recognised the horrifying reality. It was the
fatal seal, the one given me by the strange man, now dead, that they had
discovered? "Why, great Heavens!" cried the inspector, as he took the
paper from the man's hand, "don't you see? It's the seal that puzzled
us so last year!"
"Good God? so it is!" ejaculated both the men almost simultaneously, a
look of abject astonishment upon their faces.
The inspector lifted his eyes from the seal and glanced at me keenly.
He had been thoroughly taken by surprise at the discovery, but did not
lose his head.
"Warner," he said, hastily, addressing one of the men, "go round to the
superintendent and ask him to come here at once."
"Right, sir!" and, swinging his cape around his shoulders, the man
departed.
"Richards, remain here with the prisoner," he added, as he turned and
left the charge-room also.
A few moments later the sharp ring of the telegraph bell in the outer
office broke upon my ear, followed by the whirr and click of the
instrument; and with a sinking heart I knew that information of my
capture was being flashed to Scotland Yard.
For myself I cared nothing. I had never told Vera of my connection with
that series of mysterious crimes that had startled the country, and was
only thinking of the means by which I could still keep her in ignorance
of the facts.
I had given a fictitious name and refused my address; if I were firm and
careful not to commit myself I might still be able to keep my identity a
secret.
What a fool I had been, thought I, not to have left the seal in the
cash-box, as I first intended, and this reflection brought with it
another, more maddening, when I remembered that, although I was bearing
this oppression and mental torture for Vera's sake, nevertheless I had
found a portion of a seal at Elveham, identical with that which had
produced such a consternation among the police.
Again I was seized with that horrible apprehension that Vera wished to
rid herself of me, and the seal I found in my library was to have been
placed on the next victim--myself!
Why should I not make a clean breast of the matter to the inspector?
Vera had already proved herself base and treacherous. For her I had
suffered enough in that Russian dungeon, at the horrors of which I
involuntarily shuddered, even then. Were I to give my right name the
suspicion could easily be removed, and I should be a free man. I was
wavering. I own I felt almost inclined to do it. Then I reflected that
my wife must know the secret of the seal, and that in the event of my
release detectives would be busy. What if it were traced to her and she
stood in the position I then was? No, I decided to conceal my identity,
come what might, for I had not forgotten the promise I made her before
we parted.
In a couple of weeks her explanation would be forthcoming, and in the
meantime the police might do their worst.
Presently the inspector returned, and I was taken to a small room
leading from the charge-room.
"How did this seal come into your possession?" the officer asked
sharply.
"It was given to me."
"By whom?"
"By a man who is dead."
"What was his name?"
"I do not know."
"You don't know; or you won't tell me, which?"
"I have already answered."
"We shall want to know more than that," he said, ominously.
"Unsatisfactory as my answer may be it is nevertheless a fact," I
replied.
"You expect us to believe it?" he asked with a suspicious smile.
"Discredit it if you like, it's all the same to me," I replied rather
disinterestedly, after which the officer turned on his heel and left.
I sank upon a chair in a semi-exhausted state, and tried to think of
some way out of this maze, for I could plainly see none of my statements
appeared to have even the elements of truth.
The constable stood silently at the door, his arms folded, his gaze
fixed upon me. He was watching me, fearing, perhaps, lest I should
attempt suicide to escape justice.
Shortly afterwards three men entered, accompanied by the inspector. Two
were detectives--I knew them at a glance--the other a tall, dark man,
with curled moustaches, pointed beard, and a pair of keen grey eyes. He
spoke with authority, in a sharp, abrupt tone, and, as I afterwards
discovered, I was correct in thinking him the superintendent of that
division of Metropolitan police.
"I understand you give a false name, refuse your address, and decline to
say how you came possessed of this seal?" he said to me.
"The seal was given me by a man who is dead," I repeated, calmly.
"Has that man any relations living?"
"I don't know."
"What evidence can you bring to corroborate your statement that it was
given to you?"
"None. But stay--I have one friend whom I told of the occurrence,
although I do not wish him to be brought into this matter."
"You refuse to name him, or call him on your behalf?" said the chief
officer, raising his eyebrows. "I do."
"Are you aware of the significance of this symbol?"
"Perfectly--in a general sense."
"Then perhaps it will be no surprise to you to know that a lady named
Inglewood was discovered murdered at her house in Bedford Place some
time ago, with an identical seal pinned upon her breast, and further,
that a woman was found in Angel Court a short time back. Her throat was
cut, and she lay within a few yards of where you were arrested. Upon
her body was found a portion of paper to which part of a seal adhered,
and this paper, which is in our possession, exactly fits the piece that
has been torn from the one found in your pocket-book."
"It does!" I cried, amazed, for in a moment I recognised the serious
suspicion now resting upon me.
"Now; what have you to say?"
"I have nothing to add," I said dreamily.
"And you still refuse your address?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then; we must find out for ourselves." After a few words to
the detectives in an undertone, he turned and said,--
"Inspector, you will charge him on suspicion of the wilful murder of the
woman--and, by the way, let one of the men sit with him to-night. I'm
going down to the Yard."
"Very well, sir," replied the officer, and they all left the room, with
the exception of the statuesque constable.