The door opened, and Boris Seroff stood before us.
Little introduction was necessary. We grasped each other's hands.
"My brother! The man of whom you were jealous," laughed Vera, as she
nervously twisted the ribbons of her wrap around her hand.
"Well," said Boris, heartily, "I'm pleased we are relatives, and that we
have at last met. The mystery you have so long tried to solve can now
be cleared up."
"I have just been relating my history," said Vera, naively.
"Then I will explain something of mine, although it is a story not
enticing to tell," Boris exclaimed, a shadow of pain crossing his face.
"Let me know all!" I urged, impatiently. "What I have already heard
has almost bewildered me; I can scarcely realise its truth."
He twirled his moustache and appeared to be lost in thought for a few
moments. Then he said: "First, let me make a confession. Like my
sister, I am--or rather was--a member of a Nihilist Circle. I joined
from the same motive of revenge that prompted Vera, and perhaps she has
explained how you unwittingly assisted us in our attempt; how, by the
treachery of Hertzen, you were arrested; and how by our exertions you
escaped."
"Yes," I replied.
"But you do not know all. You remember finding the seal in your cell?"
"Ah--the seal?" I cried, excitedly, for the mention of it brought back
terrible memories. "What was its meaning?" I demanded.
"By the merest accident you directed my attention to the hieroglyphics
on the wall, and the discovery threw a light upon a phase of the mystery
that had hitherto been unintelligible. That cell, I found, was the same
in which my father was confined before his exile, and it was he who cut
that emblem in the stone, with his initials linked with those of the
villain who plotted his destruction."
"And that villain was--"
"The man you know as Hertzen. Having obtained control of my sister's
fortune, he schemed to entangle her so that he might be instrumental in
securing her exile to the mines, and eventually appropriate the money
for his own use. He was unaware, however, that my wound in Georgia had
not proved fatal. By concealing my identity I contrived to assist Vera
and yourself."
"But the seal! Tell me; what is its meaning?" I asked, in breathless
suspense.
"It is the death symbol. The Nihilist law demands that those who
accidentally discover our secret, and refuse to take the oath, must die
by the hand of the person from whose lips they learn it. To ensure
absolute secrecy, so essential in a country like Russia teeming with
police spies, the Executive devised a seal to be affixed to the body of
the murdered person, thus showing members of our Cause the reason of the
crime and deterring them from betraying us."
"So the seal, about which there has been so much controversy, is a
Nihilist emblem," I said, bewildered.
"Purely. For the most part the persons upon whose bodies the seal has
been discovered are those whom it was found necessary to remove for the
preservation of our secret. In some cases where we have been betrayed
by members of our Circle, lots have been cast among us, the deed has
been committed, and the lips of the traitor silenced forever. The
crimes have been regarded as the work of a maniac. You will understand
that it was to our interest to make them appear so," he replied, calmly.
"What is the meaning of those strange symbols around the seal which have
been the cause of so much comment?" I asked, eagerly, for this
extraordinary revelation was even more mystifying than the secrets.
Taking from his breast-pocket a paper upon which was an impression of
the seal, similar to that found on the victims, he said,--
"See, the centre, which has proved so puzzling to many, is a
representation of the hammer of Thor, the god of thunder. It is
symbolical of strength, work, and duty. By the Scandinavians Thor was
supposed to be the guardian genius, and representations of his hammer
were believed to be charms against every terror. In that sense the
organisation has used it. The legend, of which antiquarians have failed
to discover the key, is an obsolete Norse rune, the words being, `Bith
Sithi Gast,' the equivalent in English to `Halt! accursed enemy!' It is
indeed the Seal of Death."
"Does no one outside the Nihilist Circle know its significance?" I
asked, in wonder.
"Not a soul. Remember Vera and I are now no longer members of the
organisation. Our oaths are removed, therefore I am able to tell you
this."
"Happily our conspiracy against the Autocrat has been unsuccessful,"
broke in Vera, smiling.
"We are not Russians now, but content to be loyal subjects of your
Queen."
"I'm pleased that is so," I replied, with a sigh of relief; "but there
is still one circumstance unexplained."
"To which do you allude?" Boris asked, plunging his hands into his
pockets and leaning against the table opposite me.
I was loth to approach a subject which must be exceedingly painful to
him.
"I mean the murder--the tragedy in Bedford Place--"
"Ah!" he cried, sorrowfully, passing his hand quickly across his
forehead, "the remembrance of that terrible night--the white face of my
poor dead wife constantly haunts me. But the scoundrel who killed her
shall suffer his well-merited punishment," he added, as he paced the
room angrily, muttering some imprecations in Russian.
"Boris dear, calm yourself," said Vera, persuasively, clutching him by
the arm. "Tell Frank everything; he has a right to know."
"Yes, he has," replied her brother, turning suddenly towards me. "From
the first I knew by whose hand she died, but was unable to act. You
will understand, when I say that the villain was a member of our Circle,
and that it was believed my wife was removed because she had
accidentally discovered that an attempt was to be made at the Winter
Palace. Such, however, was the report to the Executive, and the murder
was looked upon as a commendable precaution."
"Did not the Circle know it was your wife?"
"No, I had kept my marriage a secret. The murderer was ignorant of our
relationship, otherwise he would not have dared to commit the crime and
report it to the Executive."
"Then you are absolutely certain as to his identity?" I said,
breathlessly.
"Yes. At first I could not discover the motive, but since the
confession of the servant it is plain he wished to obtain possession of
the money, and placed the fatal emblem upon her in order to deceive us
and secure our aid in concealing his guilt."
"You have given the police his name!" exclaimed Vera, anxiously, "quick!
tell us who he is."
"What!" I ejaculated, in surprise, "are you, too, in ignorance of the
real culprit?"
"Quite; Boris has refused to disclose his identity," she said, quietly,
in a tone of annoyance.
"No," replied the Russian, bitterly. "There will be time enough when
the police have hunted him down. Hitherto I have been powerless. I
dare not denounce him lest he should divulge my connection with the
plots, the inevitable result of which would have been my exile to the
mines. Now, however, I fear nothing. He has destroyed the only one I
loved, and shall suffer the penalty!" he added, fiercely.
"But why not tell us?" I argued. "Surely we may know upon whom rests
the guilt?"
"Let the matter remain at present," he said, petulantly. "When the time
arrives I shall be prepared to prove that which will send him to the
gallows. Not only did he take my wife's life, but he also committed a
second murder in order to hide the first--"
"Another?" I cried.
"Yes. Since my poor wife's maid, Jane Maygrove, returned from Australia
and made her confession, I have discovered something even more strange.
It seems that Jane had a sister Nell, very similar in feature, and
previous to her departure abroad she told this sister all that had
happened at Bedford Place on the fatal night. Needless to say, Nell
traced the murderer and made excellent use of her information, inasmuch
as she levied blackmail upon him to a considerable extent, he, of
course, believing her to be the witness of his crime. She had married a
man named Grey, and the pair lived upon the money she succeeded in
extorting from the murderer. For some time this went on, until one
night she was discovered in a court off Drury Lane, stabbed in the neck,
and with the seal upon her--"
"Why, that was the woman who was murdered on the night following my
return from Russia!" I remarked, in amazement.
"That is so. Here is her photograph," and he handed me a faded
carte-de-visite, which he took from his pocket.
It was similar to that which had been given me by the man who had died
in the garret.
"Jane Maygrove," he continued, "is none other than the wife of your
club-friend, Rivers."
"Ted Rivers's wife?" I repeated, incredulously. He replied in the
affirmative, adding, "Does not that account for his consternation when
you produced a photograph of her twin sister? He believed it to be that
of his own wife."
"How do you know all this?" I asked, my interest in the solution of
this extraordinary problem increasing more than ever.
"On the day you left Elveham, after discovering Vera and myself in the
Dene, you came to London, and outside the Junior Garrick you were met by
an old man named Grey, the husband of Nell Maygrove, were you not?"
"That's true," I admitted. "But how came you aware of this?"
"Simply because I followed you," he replied, laughing. "I had an object
in doing so; it was in your own interest, as you will know later."
"How could your espionage affect me?" I asked, with a sudden feeling of
resentment at having been "shadowed."
"You shall know very soon. On the day to which I refer, you went to
Grey's room. He told you, before he died, how he discovered his
murdered wife, and how he had taken the seal from her breast. Do you
remember?"
"Yes."
"Your conversation was overheard by the sister of the dead woman, who,
until then, was unaware that the significant sign had been found upon
her, she being abroad at the time the accounts were published in the
newspapers. When she heard Grey's declaration she at once knew that the
man who had killed her sister was the murderer of my wife. Prompted by
revenge, she determined to track the villain, and bring him to justice,
even at the risk of being prosecuted for theft herself. It was in
consequence of this that she materially assisted us by giving evidence
in your favour to-day."
"To her, to Vera, and to yourself, I owe my present liberty," I
exclaimed deeply moved. "I am indeed grateful to you all for your
efforts."
"You have little to thank me for, dear," said Vera tenderly. "Fate
seemed against me in everything I did."
"I understand how you must have suffered, dearest, and how circumstances
precluded you from telling me the truth. You did your best, and in
future I shall trust you implicitly," I said, while her arm stole gently
around my neck, and she looked lovingly into my eyes.
Wringing Boris's hand heartily, I expressed my gratitude to him, adding,
"There is one thing needful to completely solve the enigma--the name of
the man who committed the crimes."
"When I gave the police the information I promised I would not divulge
until they made the arrest; otherwise I would tell you," he replied,
with a tantalising smile.
"Do tell us! We must know the whole truth now," urged Vera earnestly.
"His name--but--hark!--what's that?" he ejaculated, with bated breath.
We listened. It was the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor.
"I must see Mrs Burgoyne at once. Do you hear? Quick! Tell me; which
is her room?" a voice shouted excitedly.
"It's here! first on the left, sir," was the reply.
A second later the door was flung open without warning.