Chris Lisle caught Trevithick, too, by the shoulder as he was leaving
Danmouth that day, and, half wild with excitement, implored him to say
whether the rumour was true.
"True enough, Mr Lisle. Mr Glyddyr is arrested, and his friend, who
is believed to be an accomplice, was taken yesterday in London."
Chris fell back, staring like one who has received some mental shock,
and then walked slowly along the main street of the place to get to the
bridge and go up the glen, so as to try and think quietly of all that it
might mean to him.
As he went along he became dimly conscious of the fact that first one
and then another touched his cap, or gave him a friendly nod; but he was
too much dazed to pay any heed, and he could only come to one
conclusion: that there must be as great a mistake here as there was over
the rumour about himself.
"It is too horrible to be true," he said, with a shudder.
At the Fort, Claude lay prostrate, unable to realise the truth of what
had taken place, and shuddering from time to time as the terrible scene
kept coming back.
"I would have spared her if I could," Trevithick had whispered to Mary
before leaving; "but it was better that she should suffer sharply for a
time than all her life."
Mary could not speak--she dared not trust herself for fear of saying
words of which she would afterwards repent, for there was a great joy in
her heart now that she knew the reason for Trevithick's silence, and she
could not even go to Sarah Woodham's side, lest she should open her
heart there.
Then came days of wild excitement in the place, with event after event
occurring to keep the gossip at white heat. There were the examinations
of Glyddyr, at which he preserved a stubborn silence. And a fresh
excitement in the presence, at the second examination, of a handsome,
sharp-looking woman fashionably dressed, who took up her abode after the
examination at the hotel.
She had seated herself in the court by the help of a friendly--made
friendly--policeman, where she could face Glyddyr; and when, at last,
their eyes met, he started and changed colour, but composed himself
directly, for another trouble was but a trifle compared to that
overhanging his life.
It was no friendly look that he had encountered, neither was the keen
glance directed at Gellow, who, upon the second morning, was placed
beside Glyddyr in the dock. For Denise showed her teeth slightly in the
malicious smile, watching and listening intently to the end.
"I did not know that I should find him through the newspapers," she said
to herself. "I was fooled by that man into believing that he was gone
abroad, when I might have come down and seen this madam whom he has
married. But it is well."
Then came fresh fuel to keep the excitement at white heat. A gentleman
was down from London, and it was known that orders had been given from
high quarters that Gartram's remains were to be taken from the vault.
That there was to be a _post mortem_ examination, and a great chemist in
London was to assist in bringing the crime home to the prisoner under
remand.
This was true enough, and Doctor Asher and his colleague were called
upon to assist. Two other doctors were also going to be present, on
behalf of the prisoner and the Government.
When Asher received his instructions he shuddered, and the paper dropped
from his hand.
"It is too horrible!" he muttered. "I will not be dragged into it
again." But he had hardly uttered the words when his colleague arrived
to talk the matter over with him.
"It is as horrible as it is absurd," Asher said.
"Yes, but we have received our instructions, and cannot refuse."
"But we performed our examination for the inquest," protested Asher.
"It is so unnecessary. The man is innocent. We know well enough the
cause of death."
The other shrugged his shoulders, and finally went away; while the next
night it was being whispered, with bated breath, that the examination
had been made, and there was talk of sealed bottles and the analytical
chemist in London.
A week later, while the prisoners were lying under remand at the county
gaol, Mrs Sarson tapped softly at Chris Lisle's door, and entered.
He did not move, for he was thinking deeply of how he would give the
world if he dared go to the Fort as a friend and say a few words to
Claude.
"And I can make no sign; I dare make no sign," he was muttering, as his
landlady's hand was laid upon his arm.
"I thought you'd like to hear the news, sir," she said respectfully.
"Yes. What news?"
"I have just heard, sir, that Mrs Glyddyr is going over to Toxeter this
morning to see Mr Glyddyr. Mr Trevithick has come to fetch her."
A spasm ran through Chris, and he turned away his head.
"Yes," he said; "suppose it is her duty."
"And Doctor Asher is very bad indeed, sir, this morning, and two other
doctors are there. He is worse than when I spoke to you last night."
"Did you speak to me about him last night?"
"Why, surely, sir, you don't forget? But I have heard this morning what
is the matter."
"Yes?" said Chris vacantly.
"It is very horrible, sir; but the new doctor told one of his patients
that Doctor Asher's knife slipped during the terrible examination of Mr
Gartram the other day, and the cut has gone bad with some name he called
it."
"Blood poisoning!" exclaimed Chris, startled by the news; "how
shocking."
"Shocking indeed, sir. I didn't think poor little Danmouth could have
had such trouble as all this; but the Lord be thanked that the whole
truth has come out at last, and you can hold up your head once more.
Poor fellow!" she muttered softly, "he don't seem to hear a word I
said."
But Chris had heard; and, as soon as he was alone, he slipped a small
glass in his pocket, and tramped out to the back of the place, and up
the highest piece of cliff, where he could lie upon his breast and watch
the Fort.
He did not wait long, for the carriage soon drew up to the front
entrance, and directly after Trevithick appeared, leading out Claude, in
deep mourning and thickly veiled. Then Mary came out, to step into the
carriage; and it was driven away, while Sarah Woodham, thin and
sallow-looking, stood on the steps watching till it had disappeared, and
at last Chris saw her as she turned, holding her hands to her temples,
as if they throbbed.
"Will she come back to-night?" said Chris to himself. "I'll wait and
see."
A couple of hours later, Trevithick led Claude slowly up towards the
prison gates, for his companion had to cling to his arm for support, and
he could feel the struggle that was going on as she strove to perform
this duty to her husband.
They were within about fifty yards of the place, when Claude reeled and
would have fallen but for the lawyer's strong arm.
"Take my advice," he whispered gently. "You can do no good, and you are
not strong enough to go through such an interview as this."
"I am better now," she said feebly. "A little faint, that is all."
"Put it off till another day."
"No," she said more faintly. "It is a duty to him. I will not believe
that it can be true."
Trevithick was silent.
"Let us go on now," she said; and they had nearly reached the prison
gates when there was a quick step, and a tall, fashionably-dressed woman
stepped before them.
"Where are you going?" she said sharply in a strangely accented way.
"To see Mr Glyddyr, madam," said Claude, meekly. "I am his wife."
"You! Bah! You are nothing, girl," cried the woman, her dark eyes
blazing with vindictive spite. "He is mine. He married me five years
ago from his yacht, in Marseilles. Yes, I, Denise Leschalles. Yes.
And you, my faith, what could I not do to you?"
Claude uttered a faint cry and threw up her veil, to gaze wildly at the
woman.
"My faith, you look. Yes, I am his wife, I tell you again. You are
nothing."
"Woman, is this true?" said Trevithick sternly.
"Bah! I say it not again. Go ask him, but he will only lie. Aha! and
he could leave me to marry that! She is poor and weak. Take her away.
I have the power to go and see my husband. This woman shall not pass."
"Tell me where you are staying," whispered Trevithick quickly. "Ah, I
remember now. I saw you at Danmouth, at the hotel."
The woman made no reply, but went on up to the gate, while Claude clung
to the strong arm which supported her.
"Mr Trevithick, can this be true?" she whispered.
"Heaven only knows," he said; "but you cannot go there now."
Chris Lisle's watch proved to be far shorter than he could have hoped,
his patience being rewarded by the sight of the young mistress of the
Fort as she was supported back into her home.
Volume Three, Chapter XX.