THE DIAMOND NECKLACE
Gebb, much to his disgust, returned to Norminster as wise as he had
left it. Beyond meeting a lunatic, and interviewing an obstinate young
woman, he had spent his time and money to little purpose; and it was
with a perplexed brain that he sat down to consider his future
movements. In the face of his failure he was at a loss how to act.
Miss Wedderburn, with what looked like deliberate intention, only
repeated the story he already knew.
Miss Gilmar had confessed to a fear of Dean. She had fled from the
Hall on account of that fear; her travels and hidings and
extraordinary precautions had been undertaken solely to thwart the
revenge of Dean. Gebb was aware of these facts; but there was nothing
more in them likely to instruct him. He had, so far, exhausted their
capabilities.
"What am I to do?" he asked himself for, say, the fiftieth time. "How
am I to act? In which direction am I to move? Miss Wedderburn, without
any given reason, says that Dean is innocent. Prain is of the same way
of thinking, and so am I. Parge alone seems to believe in Dean's
guilt, and I don't agree with him. The man himself may be able to
supply evidence to reveal the truth; but where is he to be found?"
Gebb could answer this question no more than he could the others he
propounded, and vainly racked his usually inventive brain to settle on
some course likely to elucidate the mystery. Finally, after mature
reflection, he resolved to call upon Prain, and ask him to explain the
meaning of Miss Wedderburn's fainting. The lawyer had told him to ask
a certain question, and see what answer it would bring. Well, he had
done so; and the answer was that the girl, without any apparent cause,
had fainted. Perhaps Prain knew the reason; and since Edith refused to
reveal it, his sole course was to question the solicitor. So to Prain
the detective went, full of curiosity, two days after his return from
the country. The interval had been filled up in attending to business
unconnected with the Grangebury mystery; but now Gebb returned to it
again, and sought Mr. Prain in the hope of learning something
tangible. But his spirits were very low.
"Well, Mr. Gebb," said brisk Mr. Prain, after greetings had passed, "I
have not been idle since I saw you last I have sent a description of
that necklace to the police. I have informed Mr. Alder of Miss
Gilmar's death, and I have received his instructions about the will."
"There is a will, then?"
"Without doubt. Miss Gilmar made her will before she left the Hall."
"In favour of Mr. Alder?" said Gebb.
"Yes. Of course, by the will of Kirkstone's ancestor Mr. Alder
becomes possessed of the Hall; but Miss Gilmar has left her personal
property--that is, the money which she inherited from Laura
Kirkstone--to him also. Miss Wedderburn, I am sorry to say, receives
nothing."
"Poor girl. She will have to leave the Hall."
Prain shrugged his shoulders. "That is at her own discretion," he
said, coolly. "Mr. Alder is in love with her; so if she marries
him----"
"She won't marry him," interrupted Gebb; "she is in love with, and
engaged to, Mr. Ferris."
"Ah! she told you about that scamp?"
"She told me very little, Mr. Prain; but she fainted when I mentioned
the man under the very general description of a lover."
"She fainted! Hum!" Prain looked so serious and perplexed that Gebb
was impelled to question him further touching the matter.
"Why did she faint?" asked the detective, bluntly.
"I don't know--that is, I can't exactly say," stammered the other.
Gebb looked at the solicitor, who in his turn stared at the carpet,
the ceiling, at the papers on his desk; anywhere but at his
questioner.
"Mr. Prain," he said seriously, "you are not treating me fairly."
"I beg your pardon," said Prain, nervously--and as a rule he was not a
nervous man, "I don't see how you make that out."
"I do!" replied Gebb, sharply. "You know the reason of that fainting."
"Perhaps I do; but I am not at liberty to reveal my knowledge. The
secret is Miss Wedderburn's."
"Has it anything to do with this murder?"
"No," replied Prain, decisively. "That it has not."
"Then why did you tell me to ask her about Ferris?"
"Because I wanted to be sure of something; and that fainting has
enlightened me."
"Can't you tell me more?" cried Gebb, with some indignation.
"No, I cannot," answered Prain, bluntly. "Get Miss Wedderburn's
permission, and I will. But even if you did know, the knowledge would
be of no use to you."
"Has Miss Wedderburn any theory about this murder?"
"Not that I know of. You saw her last, Mr. Gebb."
"Does she know who killed Miss Gilmar?"
"Why not ask her?" said Prain, evading the question.
"I did; and I can't make out what she means. She says that Dean is
innocent, but won't give her reason. Now, Parge declares that Dean is
guilty."
"Well, Mr. Gebb, perhaps he is."
"Indeed!" sneered Gebb, who was growing irritated. "Last time I saw
you, Mr. Prain, you denied his guilt."
"And I do so now!" cried Prain, warmly. "I believe, as you do, Gebb,
that Dean is innocent of both crimes. He killed neither Kirkstone nor
Miss Gilmar. I don't know what Miss Wedderburn's reasons are, but she
is right to defend Dean. Still," added Prain with a shrug, "I don't
deny that many people look on the man as a murderer."
"Does Mr. Alder believe in Dean's guilt--in his double guilt?"
"Yes. He is sure of it. You can ask him for yourself," added Prain,
looking at his watch. "He'll be here soon."
"I'll be glad to meet him. But what is your opinion about this crime?"
"I told you the last time I saw you," replied the solicitor. "Miss
Gilmar was murdered by one of those fortune-tellers for the sake of
her diamonds. Recover that necklace, and you will soon trace the
assassin."
"It's not much of an idea," said Gebb, scornfully.
"It's the best I've got, at all events!" retorted Prain, with heat. "I
have done my best to prove its truth by sending a description of that
necklace to the police."
"I dare say the description is in the hands of all pawnbrokers by this
time," said Gebb, thoughtfully. "Well, we shall see what will come of
it. What about Ferris?"
"Ferris!" repeated Prain, in no wise astonished at this abrupt
question. "Well, he is an artist, and a bit of a scamp, with whom
Edith Wedderburn is in love. I don't know why; perhaps because he is a
scamp. Women seem to like scamps, for some reason best known to
themselves."
"Is he handsome?"
"Very. Tall and dark; rather military-looking."
"Has he a mark on one cheek?"
"Yes, a birth-mark; but not disfiguring. How did you know about it?"
"That lunatic at Kirkstone Hall told me. He called it the mark of
Satan. By the way, who is that man?"
"A gardener who used to live at the Hall in Kirkstone's time. I think
the tragedy of the Yellow Room must have sent him off his head. At all
events, he ran away after it occurred, and only turned up a year or
two ago, quite mad."
"Why didn't they lock him up?"
"Well, you see, Miss Wedderburn (who is rather a strong-minded young
woman) thinks kindness may cure him; so she gave him back his old post
of gardener. If Miss Gilmar had been there, I don't think he would
have been allowed to stay. I don't think, either, that Miss W.'s
experiment will be a success."
"He sings the most gruesome songs--about murder, and blood, and the
Yellow Room."
"I know," replied Prain, cheerfully. "I am afraid that last muddled
his brain and inspired his muse. He didn't sing or compose verse when
I knew him; but the man's a complete wreck. He used to be rather
handsome and stupid; but his own father wouldn't know him now. I'm
sorry for the poor devil, as now that Alder owns the Hall I dare say
he'll be kicked out, and have to end his days in an asylum."
"The best place for him, in my opinion," said Gebb, emphatically. "He
is as mad as a March hare, and not half so harmless. Hullo! Who is
that knocking? Come in."
It proved to be a note from Inspector Lackland, asking Gebb to come
down to Grangebury. In the first instance it had gone to Scotland
Yard, and, as it seemed important, had been sent on to the detective,
who had left word that he would be at Prain's, in case he was wanted.
"Seems important," said Gebb, reading it. "I wonder what Lackland
wants to see me about--eh, Prain?"
But Prain was not attending to him. He was busy shaking hands with a
tall, broad-shouldered man, fair-haired, blue-eyed, and altogether
comely to look upon. This gentleman was introduced to Gebb by the name
of Alder; whereby the detective was informed that he stood in the
presence of Miss Gilmar's heir and Miss Wedderburn's lover. Alder on
hearing Gebb's name looked at him keenly, and saluted him with marked
cordiality.
"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Gebb," he said, in loud and hearty tones;
indeed, he was rather like a fox-hunting squire than a barrister. "How
are you getting on with the case of my poor cousin's murder? Have you
caught Dean?"
"No," answered Gebb, plainly; "and, to tell you the truth, I am not
sure that Dean is the culprit."
"But if you knew what Dean said about----"
"I know all that Dean said," interrupted Gebb, "also that he escaped;
but, for all that, I do not think he killed Miss Gilmar--or Kirkstone
either, for the matter of that."
"Hum!" said Alder, thoughtfully. "I see you are of Basson's opinion."
"Mr. Clement Basson! Do you know him?" asked the detective.
"I should think so!" replied Alder, smiling. "I have known him for
years. He was Dean's counsel in the Kirkstone case."
"I instructed him," said Prain, complacently. "He believed in Dean's
innocence as I did; but unfortunately our united efforts could not get
the poor devil off."
"I think I'll call on Mr. Basson," said the detective, thoughtfully.
"Where is he to be found?"
"No. 40, Blackstone Lane, Fleet Street," replied Alder promptly; "but
what do you expect to learn from him?"
"His reasons for believing Dean not guilty."
"They are the same as mine," cried Prain, "and I don't know how his
stating them over again can help you. He does not know where Dean is."
"Still Mr. Gebb had better see Basson," suggested Alder, with
conviction. "Something may come of the visit. Will you call on me
afterwards, Mr. Gebb, and tell me what you learn from Basson? I am to
be found in the Temple, and, as you may guess, I am most anxious that
Dean should be traced. I intend to offer a reward of two hundred
pounds for his capture. I hope you will earn it."
"I hope so, too," answered Gebb, much pleased; "but you are certain
that Dean is guilty?"
"If he is not, I don't know who is," replied Alder, emphatically; and
for the time being the conversation ended.
Gebb left Alder to consult with Prain as to the necessity of exhuming
the body of Miss Gilmar for identification, and took his way down to
Grangebury to learn why the bluff Lackland had written so earnest and
urgent a note. He found the plethoric inspector in a state of
excitement bordering on apoplexy, and wondered what could have
occurred to stimulate the martinet to such unusual excitement.
"That you, Gebb?" cried Lackland, the moment the detective put his
nose inside the door. "George! I am glad to see you. It's found,
sir--found! What do you think of that, hey?"
"What is found? the name of the murderer?"
"No, no; but something as useful. The diamond necklace," said
Lackland, slowly.
"You don't say so!" cried Gebb, excitedly. "Was it sold--pawned----?"
"Pawned!" interrupted the inspector. "Aaron and Nathan's, Harold
Street, City. It came into their possession the day after the murder."
"The devil! Our assassinating friend lost no time. Who pawned it?"
"A young man who called himself James Brown."
"James Fiddlesticks," said Gebb, contemptuously--"a false name. What
was he like?"
"Tall, dark, handsome," said Lackland, with military brevity. "Aaron
said that he put the necklace up the spout as cool as a cucumber. He
was----"
"Hold on!" cried Gebb, eagerly. "Had he a mark on one cheek--a
birth-mark?"
"By George, he had! A purple spot; but not large enough to spoil his
looks."
"I thought so!" said the detective, joyously. "So it was Arthur Ferris
did it."
"Arthur who?" asked Lackland, gruffly.
"Arthur Ferris, of Chelsea, artist. He pawned the necklace; he stole
the diamonds; he murdered Miss Gilmar. Hurrah! we've got him."