WITH ALL SPEED.
On quitting Fairlawn, which they did together after their interview
with Drelincourt, Sir John Musgrave and Mr. Ormsby parted at the park
gates, each going his own way. The baronet took the road to Sunbridge,
and, picking up a brother magistrate en route, drove with him direct
to the jail. There Roden Marsh was at once summoned before them, and
having been severely lectured for his insane act, was forthwith
ordered to be set at liberty. Mr. Drelincourt's voluntary confession
that he, and he alone, was the guilty person obviated all necessity
for Rodd's further confinement.
He left the jail fearing the worst, his heart tortured with anxiety of
the most poignant kind. His proffered sacrifice had been contemned,
and, so far as he could judge, had merely been the means of
precipitating a catastrophe to avert which he would willingly have
given his life's blood. His one burning desire just now was to reach
Fairlawn with all possible speed.
That his being there would avail to dissuade Felix from his rash
purpose he greatly doubted, but not willingly would he throw away the
faintest chance. Perhaps, even now, he might be too late!
The jail at Sunbridge was little more than a stone's cast from the
railway station, and no sooner was the grim portal shut behind him
than he hurried off to the latter, with the intention of hiring a cab
in which to be driven to Fairlawn. It was growing dark by this time,
and the station lamps were being lighted one by one.
A train had arrived a few minutes earlier, and every cab but one had
been engaged. Towards this one he now made his way, but only reached
it in time to see the door banged by the driver, and to find that it
had already an occupant. With a muttered anathema, he glanced inside
the cab, and then, not a little to his surprise, saw that the person
about to be driven off in it was none other than Mrs. Jenwyn.
The same instant it struck him that if her destination was Wyvern
Towers, the one cab would serve the purpose of both. It appeared that
the recognition had been mutual, and, in point of fact, Mrs. Jenwyn
was the first to speak.
"Oh, Mr. Marsh, is that you?" she began, addressing him through the
cab window. "I am very glad to see you, because you can perhaps inform
me whether I am likely to find Mr. Drelincourt at Fairlawn."
"I have every reason to believe you will find him there. But--pardon
the question--are you bound for Fairlawn?"
"That is my destination. I have just arrived from London, where I have
been staying for the last few days, and wish to see Mr. Drelincourt,
and with as little delay as possible, about a matter of very special
importance."
"I, too, am bound for Fairlawn--and in a hurry," said Roden, hiding
the surprise he could not help feeling. "So, as there is not another
cab left on the stand, if you will kindly allow me to share yours, you
will be rendering me a great service."
"Why, certainly. I shall be very glad of your company, Mr. Marsh, and
we can talk as we go along."
So Roden, having given his orders to the driver, got inside, and away
they rattled; but all talking was out of the question till they had
left the paved streets of the town behind them, and were well out on
the quiet country road.
Then said Mrs. Jenwyn: "My errand to Fairlawn is a very singular one,
as I have no doubt you will admit, Mr. Marsh, when I have explained to
you what it is."
"I am all curiosity," replied Roden, which was not far from being the
truth.
"It is the fact, is it not, that a man named Gumley is lying under
sentence of death in Sunbridge jail as being the supposed murderer of
the first Mrs. Drelincourt?"
"The fact is as you state it. But why do you say as being the
'supposed' murderer of Mrs. Drelincourt?"
"Because I am in a position to prove that the man in question had
nothing whatever to do with the crime for which he has been convicted,
and it is with the view of laying my evidence to that effect before
Mr. Drelincourt that I am now on my way to Fairlawn."
For a little while sheer amazement held Rodd speechless. But presently
came a question which, under the circumstances, was almost inevitable:
"You have indeed surprised me, Mrs. Jenwyn; but if you are in a
position to prove Gumley's innocence, you are, perhaps, equally in a
position to bring the real criminal's guilt home to him?"
"I am."
Again Rodd's thoughts held him silent for a little while. Then he said
tentatively: "Mr. Drelincourt----" and then he was silent.
"What of him?"
"You say that you are on your road to see him about this very matter
of Gumley's?"
"That is so."
"Then you do not know, you cannot have heard, that this very
afternoon, In order to save Gumley's life, Mr. Drelincourt gave
himself up as the murderer of his wife!"
"Mr. Drelincourt his wife's murderer? No! No!" The words were uttered
almost in a shriek.
"That is what he has confessed to being."
"Then he has confessed to a falsehood. It is not true, I tell you. I
can prove it. Mr. Drelincourt had no more hand in his wife's death
than you or I had."
Rodd pinched his arm as if to convince himself that he was really
awake. Was Mrs. Jenwyn in her right mind? Was she not laboring under
one of those strange hallucinations to which some persons seem
constitutionally liable? Perhaps she would tell him, in addition, that
she herself was really the criminal!
Was there a word of truth in what she had just asseverated with such
extraordinary emphasis? He greatly doubted it. And yet if there should
be! The mere thought of such a thing turned him dizzy.
A burning curiosity got the better of his discretion. "The real
criminal was----" He paused for a moment, as if expecting Mrs. Jenwyn
to fill up the hiatus.
"Pardon me, Mr. Marsh," she said, "but what I have to reveal must
first of all be told Mr. Drelincourt. When that has been done, the
affair will be out of my hands. But you, in your turn, can tell me
something, provided there is no objection to your doing so. By what
circumstances was Mr. Drelincourt influenced in coming to his strange
determination to charge himself with the commission of a crime of
which he is wholly guiltless?"
Rodd told himself that, although she had not answered his question,
there was no reason why he should not answer hers.
"In early life Mr. Drelincourt was addicted to walking in his sleep,
and it was while he was in one of his fits of somnambulism that he
believed himself to have been guilty of the death of his wife. I need
not trouble you with the details of the evidence which seemed to bring
the crime irresistibly home to him; it will be enough to remark that
both to him and me--for all the particulars of the affair have been
known to me from the first--it appeared absolutely conclusive. And
yet, Mrs. Jenwyn, you now assert, and in the most positive terms, that
Mr. Drelincourt's belief had absolutely no foundation of fact!"
"I do assert it, and at the proper time and place I shall be prepared
to prove my words."
Roden Marsh sank back in his seat with a great sigh of contentment.
However amazing it might seem, he could no longer doubt that Mrs.
Jenwyn was in a position to carry out all that she had undertaken to
do. Her words and manner were convincing.
About the details of the story she had come prepared to tell he cared
little; it was enough for him to know that the dread burden which had
weighed upon them for so many years would at length be lifted off the
shoulders of his beloved foster brother, never to be reimposed. With
the question of whose shoulders it was about to be transferred to he
did not trouble himself at all.
But a moment later he cried out: "Shall I get there in time? Shall I
arrive before it is to late?" They were questions which lit a flame of
torment within him.
He took out his repeater and struck the hour. Then, protruding his
head and half his body out of the cab window, he shouted to the man on
the box: "Drive hard--drive fast! There will be a sovereign for you if
you get there in a quarter of an hour."
The driver gave a whoop and cracked his whip. Never had the old horse
in the fly been driven at such a pace before.