STRANGE BEHAVIOUR
After some reflection Gebb concluded that Miss Wedderburn was quite
ignorant of the causes which had led to her cousin's death; also of
the details, and of the death itself. He therefore told her as
concisely as possible the story of the tragedy from the time Mrs.
Presk had been brought to the Grangebury police-station, down to the
visit he had paid to Prain the solicitor. Some points in the story he
suppressed, others he amplified; but, on the whole, he gave her a very
fair and unprejudiced account.
With attentive ears, and her eyes fixed on the face of the narrator,
Edith sat listening, her hands clasped loosely on her lap. Several
times she asked him questions, but as a rule let the account flow on
uninterruptedly. When Gebb ended, she heaved a deep sigh, whether of
relief or pity the detective could not say, and rose to pace up and
down the room. Evidently she was more moved by the tragic fate of her
wretched cousin than she chose to admit. Gebb having told his story,
waited for her to recover, and comment on the matter.
"Poor Ellen!" said Miss Wedderburn at length, but speaking to herself
rather than to her companion. "A miserable ending to a miserable life;
but I am not astonished."
"How is that?" said Gebb, with a sharp look at her. "Surely the
tragedy is unexpected enough."
Miss Wedderburn shook her head. "Ellen always said that sooner or
later she would be murdered."
"By Mr. Dean?"
"Yes," replied Edith, quietly, "by Mr. Dean."
"Oh!" said the detective, taking a long breath. "I thought you
believed in the innocence of Dean."
"So I do; I never said I didn't. I only remarked that Ellen declared
Mr. Dean would kill her."
"Well, she has been murdered, and in the most barbarous manner. Do you
say Dean is the criminal?"
"Do you?" said Edith, answering one by asking another.
"I don't know what to think," replied Gebb, crossly.
"Neither do I," responded Miss Wedderburn; and then for quite two
minutes there was a dead silence. It was broken by Gebb.
"Was Miss Gilmar unpopular in these parts?" he asked.
"Very unpopular; the people round here called her Mrs. Harpagon, from
her miserly habits."
"Did you like her, Miss Wedderburn?"
"No!" replied the girl, coolly, "I did not; neither did she like me.
There was no love lost between us. She wanted a caretaker, and I
wished for a home. My staying here is a simple matter of business."
"But surely you are sorry to hear of her murder?"
"I am not utterly without heart, Mr. Gebb, although you seem to think
so. Yes, I am sorry. I would be sorry for any one who met with so
cruel a death."
"Had Miss Gilmar any enemies?" asked Gebb, impatient of this fencing
which kept him at a distance.
"I told you she was unpopular," said Edith, slowly, "but I don't know
that she had any enemies bitter enough to murder her."
"Except Dean!"
"Of course," she replied unmoved, "always except Mr. Dean."
"Then he must have killed her."
"It's not impossible," retorted Miss Wedderburn, coolly.
Gebb, a rare thing for him to do, lost his temper completely.
"Madame!" he cried in a rage, "will you or will you not answer me
plainly?"
"There is no need to raise your voice, sir. I am answering you."
"But not plainly!"
"What do you call plainly?" asked Edith, with a provoking smile.
"You know what I mean," said Gebb, testily. "I call black black and
white white; you call both a kind of grey."
"I believe they are grey when mixed. However, I see what you mean, Mr.
Gebb, so do not lose your temper. You wish to know why Miss Gilmar
left this place, how she left it, and why I am in charge."
"Yes, I shall be glad of the information."
"Very good," said Edith, calmly; "then you shall hear my history."
"It will be just as well for you to tell it," said Gebb, dryly; "at
least, so far as concerns Miss Gilmar. Every detail is of value in
connection with this case. Please go on"--and he took out pencil and
pocket-book.
"I am an orphan," said Miss Wedderburn, taking no notice of this
action, "as I lost my parents some five years ago. I was then eighteen
years of age and at a school in Canterbury, but on the death of my
father and mother I was unable to continue my education. Therefore, as
I had no parents, no friends, and no money, I was in anything but a
pleasant position."
"Did your father leave no money?" inquired Gebb, with sympathy.
"If he had I should not be here, sir. My father died so poor that
there was hardly enough money to pay his funeral expenses. I tell you
all these details, Mr. Gebb, so that you may understand my position
here. When I found myself thrown on the world I did not know what to
do, as I was unable to obtain a situation either as companion or
governess. Then I remembered Ellen Gilmar--a relative of my father's,
who I knew was living a quiet life in this place on the money left to
her by Laura Kirkstone. I wrote to her and explained my position; and,
as she no doubt found life here extremely dull, she asked me to stay
with her as a companion, but without a salary. The offer did not
attract me greatly, nor did Ellen on our first interview; but I was in
that unenviable position when beggars can't be choosers, so I was
forced to accept her offer. I have been here for the last five years,
and on the whole I have no reason to complain of my lot in life."
"Was Miss Gilmar kind to you?"
Edith shrugged her shoulders. "As kind as she could be to any one. We
quarrelled once or twice."
"About what?"
"I don't see that you have any right to ask that question," said
Edith, quietly. "Still, to show you how candid I am, I will answer it
frankly. We quarrelled about a certain Mr. Alder."
"What! John Alder the barrister?"
"Yes," said Miss Wedderburn, rather surprised; "do you know him?"
"Not personally; but I heard about him from Mr. Prain."
"Mr. Prain seems to have been very confidential. However, this
gentleman wished to marry me, and Miss Gilmar thought that I ought to
accept him, as he was the heir to the Kirkstone estates and also
because she intended to leave him her money."
"Without a provision for you?"
"Oh," said Miss Wedderburn, indifferently, "Ellen was not bound to
leave me her money, seeing that she had provided me with free board
and lodging. But she advised me to marry Mr. Alder, and so make
certain of being comfortable for life. But I did not like him,
so I refused to become his wife. Now I suppose he will turn me
out-of-doors."
"Would he be so cruel?" said Gebb, with a glance at her handsome,
haughty face.
"He might, and he might not. He is much liked by his friends, and, I
suppose, has as much charity as most people; but whatever he decides,
I can't stay on here, now that he is the master. Does he know that his
cousin is dead?"
"I can't say. I don't think so; unless, like myself and Prain, he
discovered her death through the newspaper descriptions of the Yellow
Boudoir."
"He'll find out soon, I've no doubt," said Edith, "and come down to
offer me a choice of being his wife or leaving the Hall. I shall
certainly go. But to continue my story. I remained with Miss Gilmar,
and got on fairly well with her. She told me all about the murder, and
her fears of being killed by Dean. Often she congratulated herself
that he was in prison."
"And what did she do when she heard of his escape?"
"She was beside herself with terror; and, thinking he would come down
here to murder her, she determined to leave the Hall. She made all
arrangements as regards money with her solicitor, and asked me to take
charge of this place. I agreed, and she went away over three years
ago. I have never," said Miss Wedderburn, with emphasis, "set eyes on
her since."
"Did you know the course of her wanderings?"
"Sometimes, when she wrote to inquire if Dean had made his appearance
at the Hall, but as a rule I heard nothing, and knew not where she
was. The last time she wrote was about six months ago, but she did not
say then where her next resting-place would be, and as she was not
inclined to be confidential I did not ask questions."
"Did you know that she carried about a duplicate of this room?"
"No, not until you told me. I never see the newspapers down here."
"Can you tell me why she did so?"
"It is hard to explain," said Edith, with a puzzled look. "When Ellen
was here she sat constantly in this room, and seemed greatly attached
to it. I do not know why, seeing that it had been the scene of her
cousin's murder. But I suppose she wanted to keep the threats of Dean
to kill her constantly in mind, and so framed a duplicate of this
room, that she might not forget her danger and run the risk of being
lulled into a state of dangerous security."
"That would hardly account for her strange fancy for the room," said
Gebb, shaking his head.
"I can supply no other reason," answered Edith, reflectively. "Ellen
was very eccentric, and one could not always account for her whims."
"She was superstitious?"
"Very! Believed in omens and fortune-tellers and all kinds of rubbish.
Yet I fancy she had not always been so weak-minded. It was the dread
of a violent death that made her consult these people."
"Did she ever drop any hint about the murder?"
"She dropped no hint, as you call it," said Edith, stiffly, "but told
me the whole story very plainly. She quite believed that Dean was
guilty."
"Yet she might have killed Kirkstone herself," said Gebb, after a
pause.
"That is impossible. She had no reason to do so; and moreover if she
had been guilty, she would certainly have betrayed herself to me. It
is no use speaking ill of the dead, Mr. Gebb."
"Yet you cannot say that your cousin was a good woman."
"Perhaps not," retorted Miss Wedderburn. "On the other hand, I cannot
say that she was a murderess. Well, sir, I have told you all I know,
and you see I cannot help you in any way."
"I am not so sure of that," replied Gebb, coolly. "I have not yet
closed my examination."
Edith flushed and looked uneasy. "I don't like that word," she said in
irritable tones; "it sounds as though I were a criminal in the dock."
"That is a strong way of putting it, Miss Wedderburn. Why not compare
yourself to a witness in the witness-box?"
"Oh, call me what you like," cried the girl, rising impatiently, "but
let us finish our conversation as quickly as possible. I have told you
about Miss Gilmar, about this room, about Mr. Alder; I know nothing
more."
"Nothing, Miss Wedderburn? Think again."
"I tell you I know nothing," said Edith, now crimson with rage. "What
do you mean by your hints?"
"I mean that you have another lover," remarked Gebb, acting on the
advice of Prain, but quite in the dark as to what it would bring
forth.
Miss Wedderburn sat down promptly again on the couch as though her
limbs refused to support her, and the flush on her face gave place to
a deadly pallor. She shook in every limb, as though overcome with
terror.
"Arthur!" she faltered. "You know about----" Her voice stopped, and
she fell back in a faint.