I held my breath. What mystery had I discovered? Marigold had been
secretly done to death by these hard-faced foreigners!
There was no light save one single lamp at the far end of the road, and
by its feeble rays I saw that the silhouettes of the two men who carried
their burden to the carriage were those of the sallow-faced foreigner
who had met the pair on Calais platform and the man who had awaited the
arrival of the express at Milan.
Logan did not appear. He evidently remained in the house.
Of the identity of the victim there surely could be no doubt. It was
she who had aided Marie Lejeune in the commission of some offence--that
woman whose word could clear the character of my love Lolita.
What could I do? I stood in hesitation, utterly dumbfounded. I had
fortunately discovered the truth how these men had ingeniously entrapped
the woman towards whom Logan had shown a marked but false friendship,
but alone and undefended I feared to rush forward and denounce them.
I recollected what the _delegato_ of police had told me in Biffi's and
stood watching, confident that ere long I should be able to give the
police such information as would lead to the arrest of the whole gang.
Little ceremony was used in handling the covered body of the lifeless
woman. It was simply bundled into the cab, the two men got in with it,
the door closed, and the vehicle was driven off rapidly in the direction
of the town.
The instant it passed me I ran after it as fast as my legs could carry
me, determined to follow it to its destination. My own idea, from the
fact that the horse was a weak one, was that it was not going far--in
fact only just sufficiently far to place the body in some place of
concealment.
The wheels rattled over the stones, awakening the echoes of the silent
streets as the cab turned towards the main thoroughfare in the direction
of the city.
I was panting some distance behind, and had halted for a second to catch
my breath, when all of a sudden, before I was aware of what had
happened, I felt a crushing blow upon my skull, and fell to earth like a
felled ox.
I only recollect having seen a thousand stars at that moment when the
irresistible blow fell upon me--nothing else. My soft grey felt hat did
not break the blow, the full force of which came down upon the top of my
head, striking me in an instant dumb and unconscious.
Of what happened to me after that I have no knowledge whatever. I had,
of course, acted unwisely in my quick eagerness to ascertain the truth,
for by rushing after the vehicle I had exposed myself to the detection
of those of the conspirators who were evidently outside the house
keeping watch. My curiosity had misled me into a distinct error of
judgment, and I had no doubt been felled by those whose motive it was to
keep secret the tragic affair.
My next recollection was of a terrible throbbing in my brain. My head
seemed aflame! My skull seemed to be boiling with molten lead. Ah!
never in all my life shall I forget the torments I suffered for about an
hour, yet unable to speak, unable to complain of them. Before my
blinded eyes was a dull red haze, in which stars seemed to shoot with
every throb of the blood through my poor unbalanced brain.
I believe at last I spoke, but of what I said I have no idea. Merely
the ravings of delirium I have since been told. I felt something
strange upon my brow, like burning coal or corrosive acid, yet when I
knew the truth I found to my surprise that it was ice.
My first impression was that I was demented. I could not think of
anything. Strange weird visions, mostly grotesque or gruesome, floated
through my mind, but without motive or coherence. I tried to recollect
the past, but I found I had none. My brain had been thrown out of its
usual balance, and my sufferings were excruciating.
Ah! I now know some of those tortures which are the wages of sin, and I
tell you I would not endure them again--no, not for a million in hard
cash. My poor brain seemed to bubble and boil, as though my skull had
been emptied and re-filled with molten metal, while the sound in my ears
seemed as deafening as the noise of a thousand steam-hammers.
At last I knew that I was still breathing, my sore heavy eyes seemed
less clouded, and the haze grew clearer. I heard other sounds above
that maddening, crashing, hammering rending that deafened me--sounds of
human voices.
My hot lips were touched by something cold, and I felt a few drops of
some liquid dribble into my mouth. This I swallowed, for I believed
that aid was at hand.
I tried to speak, but over the articulation of my words I had absolutely
no control. What I said was not what I really intended to say in the
least. Never have I experienced such a strange loss of control over my
tongue before. I was sane, and yet insane at the same moment.
Slowly and with very great difficulty I regained my senses, when, to my
surprise, I found a face in a wide head-dress of white linen, the face
of a sister of one of the religious orders.
My eyes wandered to other beds around, all of them occupied, and on the
wall was a gigantic crucifix. Then I knew that I was in a hospital. My
head was bandaged, and two doctors seemed to be re-adjusting the folds
of linen.
I inquired in English where I was, but suddenly recollected that I was
in Milan, and in the same language the elder of the two doctors
replied--
"Don't trouble where you are, my dear sir. For the present remain
quiet, and get better. You've taken a turn now, and will recover. Be
thankful for that."
"How long have I been here?" I asked, gazing around at the unfamiliar
surroundings.
"Three days," replied the sister, a calm-faced elderly woman, who wore a
huge rosary and crucifix suspended from her girdle. "We thought you
would not recover--until yesterday. But you will soon be better now."
Then I recollected the terrible fate of the young Countess of
Stanchester.
And after pondering and wondering I lapsed again into a lethargic state,
remaining so for many hours.
It was not before the following day that my senses really fully
returned, and when they did there came to my bedside a short rather
stout fussy little man in a soft hat and snuff-coloured suit, by whose
bearing I knew him at once to be a _delegato_ of the Milan police.
"I regret to disturb you, signore," he commenced, as he seated himself
at my side, "but in the circumstances it is necessary. Are you aware of
the conditions under which you were discovered?"
"No," I answered. "Tell me."
"Well," he said, "the affair is a mystery upon which you no doubt can
throw some light, but before questioning you I have to inform you that
whatever you will say will be taken down in writing, and may be used in
evidence, because you are under arrest."
"What?" I said, starting up and glaring at him. "Under arrest--for
what?"
"For murder."
"That's interesting, at any rate," I exclaimed, half inclined to treat
the matter as a joke. "And whom have I murdered, pray?"
"A woman."
"Well," I said, "if you will tell me where and how I was found I may
perhaps be able to throw some light on the affair. If not, perhaps you
will send for the British Consul, and I'll make a statement to him."
At first the detective seemed disinclined to tell me anything, but
finding the unconcerned manner in which I took the serious charge, he at
last told me certain facts that held me utterly dumb with astonishment.
"You were found insensible by some workmen who went to do some repairs
in an apartment in a house beyond the Monforte gate--you and the woman.
The knife with which you struck her was lying beside you, and we also
have the hatchet with which she struck you on the head in self-defence."
"What!" I gasped, amazed. "Do you allege that I killed the woman?"
"You are guilty until you prove yourself innocent," was the man's cold
reply, regarding me with a keen quick glance in his dark eyes.
"Well, just tell me a little more about it," I urged. "You say that
some workmen found me in the same room as the woman, and between us was
a knife and a hatchet. Whose house was it?"
"Ah! you are unaware of whose place it was? You broke into it during
the absence of the proprietor and took up your quarters there, of
course," was the man's reply. "You are a foreigner--English?"
"I am. And I think before we go any further you'd better send for the
Consul and let me put a different complexion upon your story. Your
theory is, of course, the natural and only one, if, as you say, a knife
and a hatchet have been found. But you have not told me to whom the
apartments belonged," I said.
"They were rented by a man named Rondani, manager of the silk factory in
the Via della Stella. He, however, locked up the place about a month
ago, having been sent by his firm on a commission to Berlin. The other
day a builder received the key by post, with orders to enter and effect
certain repairs, and when the men went there they discovered you both in
the dining-room and at once informed us. At first you were believed to
be dead, but as the doctor declared that you were still alive you were
brought here and placed under arrest."
"But I'm innocent!" I declared dismayed. "I was attacked from behind
in the open street." And then I told him of my midnight vigil, and of
the weird scene of which I had been witness. It seemed plain that
having been recognised and struck down by the assassins they suddenly
changed their plans, taking back the body of the young Countess as well
as myself, ingeniously placing us in such a position as to make it
appear that I was the actual murderer. No doubt they were under the
belief that I had died from the effects of the blow.
I expressed anxiety to visit the scene of the assassination, to which
the man replied--
"By all means. Indeed, we shall be compelled to take you there as soon
as you are well enough."
"Let me go now," I urged. "I can drive there all right."
"No--to-morrow," he said.
"What have you found upon the woman?" I inquired.
"Several things--letters in English and other things. They are being
translated."
"Letters in English. May I see them?"
"At the trial," he said. "Instead of gloating over your crime as you
seem to be doing, would it not be better to try and establish your
innocence?" he suggested.
"Why should I? I'm not guilty. Therefore I fear nothing. Only take me
to the scene of the crime."
"To-morrow you shall go. I promise you," was his reply, and then he
left, one of his assistants mounting guard over me, in fear, I suppose,
that I might try and escape them.
The murder of Lady Stanchester was an appalling _denouement_ of the
mystery, and increased it rather than threw any light upon the
extraordinary circumstances. It was evident that she had been
deliberately enticed there to her doom, and had I not fortunately
followed her, her end would have remained a complete enigma.
The police had discovered certain letters. What, I wondered, did they
contain? Would they at last throw any light upon the affair which, when
it got into the papers, must startle English society.
At present her name was, of course, unknown, unless perchance any of the
envelopes were with the letters. I felt sympathy for my friend George,
and wondered how I could prevent her name from being known.
The hours crept slowly on; the day seemed never-ending. The presence of
that scrubby-bearded little Italian sitting near me reading a newspaper
idly, or gossiping with the men who lay in the neighbouring beds, was
particularly irritating.
At last, however, when night came on and my guard was relieved, I slept,
for the pain in my head wore me out and exhausted me.
Next day, in accordance with his word, the _delegato_, accompanied by
two other police officials, arrived, and feeling sufficiently well I
dressed and accompanied them downstairs, where a closed cab was in
waiting. After a short drive we turned into the half-finished street so
familiar to me, and pulled up before the house over the threshold of
which I had seen, carried by the assassin, the lifeless body of one of
the most admired women in England.
They conducted me up a flight of stairs to a landing at the back, and
there entered one of the flats with a key. I noticed that the door had
been sealed, for the _delegato_ broke the seal before inserting the key.
Inside, the place was rather barely furnished, the home of a man with
small means; but as we walked into the little dining-room the sight that
met my eyes was terrible.
Upon the table were the remains of a supper--decaying fruit,
half-consumed champagne and an unlit cigar lying on one of the plates.
Places seemed to have been laid, for five, but the cloth had been half
torn off in the struggle, and a dish lay upon the ground, smashed.
Upon the floor of painted stone, the usual floor of an Italian house,
were great brown patches--pools of blood that had dried up, and into one
the corner of the table-cloth had draggled, staining it with a mark of
hideous ugliness.
On the ground, just as they had been found, lay a heavy hatchet with
blood upon it, the instrument with which my unknown assailant had struck
me down. While at a little distance lay a long very thin knife, with a
finely tempered three-edged blade.
To the astonishment of my three guards I took it in my hand and felt its
edge. The curious thought occurred to me that with such a weapon, thin
and triangular, Hugh Wingfield had been so mysteriously done to death.
"Then this is where they enticed the woman--to an apartment that was not
their own, and which they evidently entered by a false key! They
invited her to supper, and then--well, they murdered her," I said
reflectively. "Where is the body? May I see it?"
The confronting of a murderer with his victim is part of the procedure
of the Continental police, therefore the detectives were not adverse in
the least to granting my request.
"Certainly," answered the _delegato_. "It is here, in this room,
awaiting the official inquiry." With that he opened the door of the
small bedroom adjoining, and there, stretched upon the bed, lay the
body, covered with a sheet.
I approached it, to take a last look upon the woman whose end had been
so terrible, at the same time wondering what evidence the police had
secured in those letters found upon her.
"God!" I cried, when one of the men with a quick movement, and watching
my face the while, drew away the sheet and revealed the white dead
countenance.