THE PLOT FAILS.
Captain Howard Murpoint was working fast toward a completion of
his plans; but others were working faster, and Mr. Giles, the city
detective, had made his report to Mr. Dockett. That report contained
enough of information to surprise one more up in the wiles of the
wicked than Mr. Dockett, but as he read the story of Howard Murpoint's
money dodges he merely raised his eyebrows and muttered:
"He's a rare, clever one--a rare, clever one; it's almost a pity to
interfere with him."
So it came to pass that time slipped by, and Howard Murpoint quite
unconscious of the Nemesis upon his track, pressed Violet to name an
early day for the wedding, for though preparations had for some time
been in course, no actual day had been fixed.
Violet shrank a little, but she, in her gentle, dreamy way, agreed
that the day should be postponed no longer, and, accordingly, the 24th
of August was set down, and the lawyers and the dressmakers bidden to
hasten.
August the 20th came, and Violet, still dreamy and quietly calm, was
seated in the drawing-room; some trifling piece of lady's work was in
her hand, but the needle was still, and her hands were idle.
Mrs. Mildmay was seated at the open window, busily engaged in writing
out a list of invitations for the wedding breakfast.
From time to time she glanced over at Violet and put some questions,
which Violet always answered in her quiet, preoccupied way, and Mrs.
Mildmay wrote on.
"Shall we have the candles, my dear?" she said, at last, as the
twilight fell and compelled her to pause.
"If you like, auntie," said Violet. "Why do you not rest a while? I
wish you would let me help you," and she crossed the room, bent over
her aunt, and kissed her.
Mrs. Mildmay looked at her and drew her down to a footstool beside her.
"Violet," she said, "you do not seem much excited by--by the great
event coming."
"No," said Violet, with a smile and a sigh, her face gradually growing
abstracted and her eyes more fixed. "Aunt, am I wrong to take things
so quietly? Sometimes I think it is wicked. Sometimes I fear that I am
cold, indifferent, ungrateful for all Captain Murpoint's kindness."
"No," said Mrs. Mildmay. "I am sure you are not that; but----"
"I know," said Violet, "I know what you would say. But I cannot help
it, auntie. I feel sometimes as if I were not myself--as if Violet
Mildmay were dead and I were her shadow and wraith. Do you know what I
mean? As if this were all a dream, and that I should in the end find
myself dead! I am not dead, aunt, I know, and I strive to rouse myself.
I do rouse sometimes, but only for a little while," she sighed. "The
strange, numbed, unreal feeling comes over me again very soon, and this
wedding seems to be that of some one else; but it is mine--mine--mine!"
She started suddenly, and looked up at her aunt with a look of horror.
"There, aunt, I am roused, and, see! I am shuddering. I feel as if this
were some dreadful crime I was about to commit. I hear Leicester's
voice warning me! I feel his hand drawing me back! No--no, I will not
be Howard Murpoint's wife!"
Mrs. Mildmay rose with alarm.
"Violet!"
"Hush, aunt!" said Violet. "It has gone! I am wicked and silly. It has
gone, that dreadful horror and dread. I am dreaming again and numbed.
Do not let us talk any more about it. Sit still, dear auntie, and talk
of something else."
Mrs. Mildmay resumed her seat, and looked at her darling with a
troubled heart.
"My dear Violet, you must struggle against such feelings, especially
to-night. Howard is coming, you know, and Mr. and Mrs. Dodson. We are
all to talk over your wedding trip."
"To-night are they coming?" said Violet.
"Yes. Captain Murpoint has to take a journey to Penruddie"--Violet
shuddered--"to-morrow, and may be away for all the time before the
24th. Think, my dear! You will be the wife of a great and good man.
Perhaps--for they are all talking of it--you will be Lady Murpoint."
At that time a servant knocked at the door.
"A gentleman wishes to see Miss Violet, madam."
"It is very late," said Mrs. Mildmay. "What is his name?"
"He has given no name. He wishes to see her on business, I believe,
madam."
"Will you see him here, Violet?" added Mrs. Mildmay. "I do not like to
send him away."
"No; why should you?" said Violet, rising and taking her former seat.
"I will see him here, John."
The footman returned and ushered in an ordinary-looking gentleman
in black. There was another one with him, who came forward with
outstretched hand.
"Mr. Thaxton!" said Violet. "Why did you not say it was you?"
"I feared," said Mr. Thaxton, "that you might think I had come on
business, and would refuse to see me."
"You wrong me," said Violet.
"This," said Mr. Thaxton, "is a very greatly respected friend of mine.
I have brought him to assist me in making a statement which it is
necessary you should hear."
Violet bowed to Mr. Dockett--for the gentleman in black was he--and,
with a vague look of expectation, sat down.
Mrs. Mildmay had shaken hands with Mr. Thaxton, and invited them to be
seated.
"Miss Mildmay," said Mr. Thaxton, "did I not feel sure that you are as
strong of heart as you are true, I should approach the task before me
with dread. As it is, I do so with reluctance."
"Stay!" said Violet, growing pale. "Answer me one question, and answer
it truly. Is the business you have come about in any way connected with
my marriage?"
"It is," said Mr. Thaxton, "and with something which I know weighs
heavily on you, though the reality has passed long since."
Violet grew paler still.
"Mr. Thaxton," she said, "I am no weak-minded schoolgirl. I have
suffered much, and still live, and can bear more than you think. Be
plain with me, I entreat you. You have come to speak to me of that
dreadful time long past but ever present in my mind."
"I have come to speak to you of Penruddie," said Mr. Thaxton.
Violet repressed a shudder, and closed her eyes for a moment.
The three watchers knew that she was putting up a prayer for strength.
"You have come to tell me that you have discovered something in
connection with that terrible, cruel time. Have you found the--the----"
"We have found the man who was guilty of that crime," said Mr. Thaxton.
Violet shuddered, but sighed.
"It is dreadful," she said, faintly. "And I had hoped--forgive me----"
"Speak plainly on your part," said the lawyer.
"I had hoped that you might have found some trace of him who was
wrongfully, cruelly accused of that crime. The noble soul whom I loved
and helped to slay!"
And she clasped her hands.
"I have found more than that," said Mr. Thaxton.
Violet rose with wild eyes.
"Tell me!" she cried. "You have found him?"
"Hush!" said Mr. Thaxton. "You promised to be strong!"
Violet sank back and covered her face with her hands.
Mr. Thaxton bent over to her and took her hand.
"A great part of my task is done," he said. "I come to prepare you for
a great and terrible trial, perhaps of sorrow, perhaps of joy. Tell
me, are you strong enough to bear it? Are you strong enough to see the
guilty punished, though that guilty were one whom you held dear? Are
you strong enough to witness what in your eyes, unprepared, might seem
a miracle? Are you strong enough for a great and fearful, a sudden and
tremendous joy?"
There was a moment's pause.
"I am!" said Violet, and once more she looked up with her deep,
beautiful eyes.
"Then," said Mr. Thaxton, pulling out his watch, "your trial is near at
hand. To-night and within ten minutes you expect Mr. and Mrs. Dodson
and Mr. Howard Murpoint?"
Violet inclined her head.
"You may also expect Mr. and Mrs. Lennox Fairfax."
"Bertie and Ethel?" said Violet.
Mr. Thaxton nodded.
"They have returned at my wish and suddenly," he said.
At that moment there was a loud knock at the door.
"There are some of the guests," he said, rising. "My friend and I will
conceal ourselves behind that curtained recess. You trust all to me;
and you promise to be strong?"
"I trust all to you, and I will be strong!" said Violet.
The two men quickly drew the curtain aside and concealed themselves in
the recess.
Scarcely had they done so when Howard Murpoint and the Dodsons entered.
He came up to Violet and kissed her hand with his subtle courtliness
and murmured some soft greeting, then, as he shook hands with Mrs.
Mildmay, he said:
"I met our dear friends and managed that we should all come together."
Mrs. Mildmay was about to touch the bell, when at a gesture from Violet
she paused and said:
"Shall we have a cup of tea by moonlight? See, it is rising rapidly."
"Delightful!" said the captain. "A charming idea. I can unfold our
delicious plans in a congenial light. My dear Violet, I think I have
sketched out a really agreeable tour. We shall run through Italy, see
everything of any importance, and then come back by----"
At that moment, and as he rose to cross over to Violet, who sat pale
and silent, nerving herself for she knew not what catastrophe, the
curtain drew aside and Mr. Dockett stepped out.
Howard Murpoint turned, with his teacup in his hand, and frowned. The
sudden entrance had startled him.
Mr. Dockett came across the room softly and, with a slight bow to the
rest, touched the captain on the shoulder.
"Captain Howard Murpoint, I arrest you upon a charge of conspiracy."
The captain turned pale for a moment, then looked round with a rather
displeased laugh.
"Is this a piece of premeditated fun?" he said. "If so, don't let me
spoil it. What shall I say? Make a confession?"
"Ay, make a confession," said Mr. Dockett. "Here's a man who will help
you."
And as he said the words Mr. Giles stepped from behind the curtain.
"Don't move, please," said Mr. Dockett to the company in general and
to the captain in particular. "There are half a dozen men downstairs,
and every outlet from the house is watched. Now, Mr. Giles, what do you
know of the charge?"
"I hold a warrant here," said Mr. Giles, "for the arrest of Captain
Howard Murpoint on several charges, involving conspiracy and forgery.
It is no use, captain, the game has been a good one, but it is up.
To-morrow the bubble will burst, and all your little dodges will be
known. To-morrow the city would tear you to pieces if they had you----"
"Stop!" said the consummate villain. "Something has gone wrong in the
city, no doubt. There is some mistake, my good fellow. You only do your
duty, no doubt. I had better come with you, I suppose? Is that all?"
"No," said Mr. Dockett, "not all--not nearly, Captain Murpoint. There
is a charge of forging a codicil to the will of the late John Mildmay,
whereby you having fraudulently gained the guardianship of Miss Mildmay
and possession of the estate and the moneys of the same."
The captain's face twitched and worked, and he sank into a seat.
"Let us hear this farce through," he said. "I know who is at the bottom
of it. Forgery indeed! Because Lord Lackland is beggared and ruined and
I have helped him toward it he must trump up this ridiculous charge. It
is preposterous! My dear Violet----"
He was about to continue, but Violet rose and shrank toward the
curtain, and Mr. Dockett stepped in between her and the scoundrel.
"You cannot believe this--this idiot!" he exclaimed.
"Silence!" said Mr. Dockett. "I put a question to you, Captain
Murpoint. Will you give in, and make a clear confession of all, or
shall I carry the matter through? For, mark me, this young lady shall
know all, whether I tell her or you do!"
"Tell her what you like!" said the captain, pleasantly. "I have nothing
to confess! Now, what is the next charge?"
"The murder of James Starling, whom you are accused of stabbing and
throwing over the cliff at Penruddie!"
The captain rose, white and desperate.
"You cannot prove it!" he said. "Where is your witness?"
"Here," said Mr. Dockett, and he beckoned toward the recess.
Out stepped Job, very pale, but very determined.
"I am a witness, captain," he said. "I see you in the master's room,
and I see you going up the cliffs. It's all over, captain, for Jamie
Sanderson found the knife--your knife--and this gentleman has got it
clear and straight."
"It's a false, vile, concocted plot!" hissed the captain. "James
Starling died by the hand of Leicester Dodson! I saw him do it! If he
didn't do the murder, where is he? Why doesn't he come back like a
man and prove his innocence? Not he! He's snug away somewhere, and he
doesn't come back!"
"He does, and he is here!" said a voice, and the curtain was swept away
by a strong hand--Leicester's own--as he stepped into the room and
caught Violet in his arms.
"Leicester!" she cried, with a voice, whose tones baffle all
description. "Leicester! I have been asleep--dreaming. Oh, horrible
dreams! Wake me, Leicester, my darling, wake me!"
There was a rush and confusion as she fainted. The door opened, and
Ethel and Bertie ran in.
Then there was such a handshaking and kissing, and such terrible
excitement, that for the moment the cause of all the terrible crimes
and trouble was forgotten.
He saw the moment, and slipped something small and composed of glass
from his pocket.
Scarcely had he done so when Mr. Dockett and Giles had seized his arms.
He struggled for a moment, then, as the group round Leicester and
Violet, sobbing and crying and laughing and talking, turned to confront
him, he suddenly stood still, and the old daring smile flitted across
his livid face.
"You are mad, all of you!" he said. "You think because your idiot is
back and the secret is out that you have done for me forever. But
you are wrong. I know something of law. I am rich, and I will set
you at defiance! You talk of robberies, of smuggling, of forgery, of
murder! Bah! where is the motive for it all? Convict me of forgery upon
the evidence of one man? You cannot! Convict me of murder upon such
evidence as you hold? Impossible! I laugh at you! I am Captain Howard
Murpoint, a respectable officer in her majesty's service! Why should I
kill my servant, James Starling? Beware! Lay me by the heels, and I can
and will give evidence sufficiently strong to hang that idiot!"
And he pointed to Leicester, from whom all sense but that of gratitude
for the possession of his darling seemed to have passed.
"I can hang him, and I will, for I dare you to show why I should murder
my servant, James Starling!"
At that moment the door opened and a short, little man in a
costermonger's cap entered.
It was Stumpy.
Very quickly he pushed his way through the throng until he was close
beside the captain, then he grasped his arm suddenly, and, ripping up
the sleeve with a knife, pointed with a grin to a red mark.
The thing had been done so suddenly that the detectives even were taken
by surprise.
But the captain understood it, and his face underwent a fearful change.
"Who are you?" he breathed, hoarsely.
Then, as he recognized his companion in crime, he shrieked:
"Hold him! hold him! He's an escaped convict! I know him! I can swear
to him! I've worked in the same gang! Hah! hah! I've tricked you all at
last!"
And, as Mr. Dockett suddenly released his arm, he dashed something in
his mouth and fell upon the floor.
There was a slight noise of breaking glass, the blood trickled from
some small cuts at his lips, then a cry arose from Mr. Dockett, who had
knelt beside him and was staring at his arm.
"It's the general! Stumpy was right! Here's the mark upon his arm!
No. 108! He's done us after all! Stand back! Give him air! Ah! he's
dead--poisoned!"
And as he spoke he wiped the remains of the broken phial from the
bleeding lips.
* * * * *
Winter has passed and summer has come again.
Winter has passed and taken with it forever and ever the last traces of
that wicked spirit which plotted so much harm for Violet Mildmay and
worked so much for those she loved.
All the winter through, each week, each month, justice, which will have
nothing hidden or put away, went through the deeds of that dark life
and made things clear.
The world soon learned how deeply it had been deceived, soon learned
that Leicester Dodson was a martyr to circumstances, and that he almost
deserved the reward which Violet, beautiful Violet, was going to bestow
on him. Almost, we say, for no one could quite deserve that sweet boon,
for that boon was herself. It soon found that the great man whom the
world had delighted to honor had delighted to swindle it! That he was
a murderer, rogue, a forger, and the plunderer of widows and orphans.
For months curses followed him to that bourne whence none return, and
Mr. Dockett has often been heard to regret that he did not stop the
villain's hand when it carried the phial to his lips.
"I knew what he was going to do," Mr. Dockett would say, with a sigh;
"and I thought I'd let him, because, you see, it was much quieter than
having him hung! But I didn't know it was the general until Stumpy ran
in and ripped up his sleeve. When I saw the 108 stamped on his arm it
quite gave me a turn. For there was a reward of five hundred pounds, to
say nothing of the honor of catching an 'escaped,' who was thought to
be at the bottom of the sea. However, I'm very well satisfied, for Mr.
Leicester's a perfect gentleman, and as for the young lady, all I say
is may Heaven bless her and make her happy."
Mr. Dockett is often asked how much he pocketed by the affair, but he
always declines to state. He says he does not wish to make the rest of
his professional brethren dissatisfied and envious.
The winter brought trouble down to Penruddie, for the smuggling secret
was out, and many a fisherman had to fly.
Job stayed and gave evidence on the inquest of the captain, but
Leicester paid the fine which was inflicted, and Job is comfortable and
happy.
One by one his old companions are creeping back, and, strange to
say, the coastguards don't recognize them. Stumpy has turned queen's
evidence and obtained a pardon, and is to be found the heart and soul
of the "Blue Lion", which is still in the hands of Martha, who has
abandoned smuggling and finds her temper is much improved.
Polly is Mrs. Willie Sanderson, and keeps her husband in very good
order.
So Penruddie is very much as it was, and the Cedars and the Park are
being done up. Some one is expected to occupy them, but at present the
somebodies are elsewhere.
For it is now summer, and the evening sun is turning the rippled sea to
gold.
A yacht comes dancing across the golden light into the sunset.
It is a very beautiful little vessel, and, light-hearted, from its deck
come ever and anon ripples of laughter that rival the ripples of the
sea.
Let us hover, like Puck, upon the sail, and look down.
There, on the deck, is a little party.
First Mr. and Mrs. Dodson and Mrs. Mildmay and Mr. Thaxton, seated in
comfortable armchairs conveniently near a small table, upon which stand
champagne and fruit.
Scattered near them on rugs and furs are some more friends.
It is from them that the laughter most heartily proceeds; near them
are Violet and Leicester, she seated, and leaning against the mast, he
lying full length and cutting the portrait of Mr. Thaxton out of orange
peel.
Near him recline Bertie and Ethel--Bertie puffing a cigar with mild
enjoyment, and Ethel teasing him with the end of a rope.
Swinging in a hammock up above their heads is Fitz, looking as happy
as the day is long, and not at all the disappointed man. He loves
Violet still, and she calls him Fitz; but it is a brotherly affection
between them, and Fitz is satisfied. He will never marry, he says, but
he insists upon it that if there should ever be any children round
Violet's knee, that they should call him "Uncle."
Near them sits Jamie Sanderson--near, but far away, for he has a book
in his hand, and he is in dreamland. He will never leave Leicester
while they both live.
Mr. Thaxton, smoking his cigar, drops comfortably off to sleep, lulled
by the heat and the soft laughter.
The other elderly parties are about to follow his example, when Fitz
sings out:
"Pass that champagne up, will you, ladies and gentlemen? Because I'm up
here, it doesn't follow that I'm above the weaknesses of other mortals.
George! How happy I am! You all of you look that way inclined; and
so you ought to be. Ladies and gentlemen, if there's any one of you
unhappy on this happy vessel, you shouldn't be here; it isn't the place
for you, and, by George! if you'll have the honesty to admit it, I'll
pitch you overboard."
There is no answer, save a peal of laughter--and a piece of orange
peel, thrown by Leicester, and alighting on Fitz's nose--and as that
must mean that they are perfectly happy there and now we will leave
them.
Long may they glide through life as they glide now, this summer's eve,
doing good, loving much, and trusting to the beneficence of that Heaven
whence all happiness and good things flow!
THE END.
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End of Project Gutenberg's The Spider and the Fly, by Charles Garvice