MRS. PRISOM'S STORY.
"What the deuce are you doing here?" asked the detective, angrily,
"and why did you run away when you saw me?"
"As to my being here," replied Garth, sitting up and wiping his face,
"I came down to watch my cousin, of whom I was suspicious; and I ran
away because, on catching sight of you in the twilight, I took you for
Louis Fellenger."
"Oh! And for what purpose are you down here?"
"I have told you. I suspect that my cousin, through his medical
friend, is concerned in the murder of Sir Gregory."
Fanks frowned, and Garth having got on his feet, they walked on
together. He wished that Garth would leave the case to him, and
resented the presence of the young lawyer on the spot. "Where are you
staying?" he asked, abruptly.
"At the Pretty Maid Inn. I suppose you are there also, as it is the
only comfortable lodging in the village."
"Yes, I am there, and, now as I have dropped across you, we may as
well go back to supper. I had intended having a look at the Hall, but
on second thoughts I shall go back with you to pump Mrs. Prisom."
"I know Mrs. Prisom very well," said Garth; "she is an old servant of
our family, but I do not see what you can learn from her."
"I may learn nothing, on the other hand I may learn a great deal. She
was well acquainted with the father of the late baronet."
"And she was well acquainted with my mother, and with the father of
the present baronet. But in what way do you expect her to help you?"
"Well, I'll tell you. I want to find out if there is anything in the
family history of the Fellengers likely to have induced Sir Gregory to
submit to that tattooing."
"I am a member of the family, and I don't know of any reason," said
Garth.
"Mrs. Prisom belongs to a generation before you," replied Fanks, "and
it is possible that she may know something. Of course, it is only
fancy on my part. Still, a drowning man clutches a straw, and I am
clutching at this. We may learn something."
Garth shook his head. He knew the history of his family, and there was
nothing he could recall likely to touch on the subject of a tattooed
cross.
Mrs. Prisom received them both with great dignity, and in half an hour
they were seated at a well-spread table. Both did justice to the
viands set before them; and during the progress of the meal they
chattered about the case. While they were thus conversing Fanks
elicited an important fact concerning Sir Louis.
"I don't know why you should suspect your cousin," he said, in reply
to a remark of Garth's. "Mr. Vaud told us that both Sir Louis and
Binjoy were at Taxton-on-Thames on the night of the murder. The first
was ill, and the second was in attendance."
"True enough," replied Garth, frankly; "all the same, you proved that
Binjoy was masquerading in London on the evening of the twenty-first."
"Yes; it is strange that Sir Louis should say that Binjoy never left
his side. I suppose you suspect your cousin on that account?"
"By no means. I suspect my cousin because he was himself in London on
that night."
Fanks leaned back in his chair, and stared at the barrister. "What is
that you say?" he cried. "Was Sir Louis in Tooley's Alley on that
evening?"
"Oh, I won't go so far as that. But Louis certainly went up to London
on that night. I found that out from Mrs. Jerusalem."
"And who is Mrs. Jerusalem?"
"She was the housekeeper of Sir Louis at Taxton-on-Thames. When he
came in for the title he brought her here. I saw her yesterday, and
she inadvertently admitted that much."
"How did you get that out of her?"
"Well, it was a fluke. She is an old servant of our family, like Mrs.
Prisom. I met her while out walking, and she recognised me. I made her
promise not to tell Sir Louis that I was here."
"But what excuse did you make?"
"None," said Garth, coolly. "I'll tell you a secret, Fanks. Mrs.
Jerusalem likes me and hates Sir Louis. She was a foster-sister of my
mother's, and she desires to see me in the place of my scientific
cousin."
"Indeed," said Fanks, eyeing Garth in a strange manner; "and has she
done anything likely to forward your interest in that respect?"
"I suppose you mean to hint that she would like to clear Sir Louis out
of my path by accusing him of the murder?" said Garth, coolly; "well,
you are about right. Mrs. Jerusalem connects the absence of Sir Louis
from Taxton-on-Thames with the death of Sir Gregory. She saw the
report of the inquest, you know; she recognised--as she thinks--the
description of Binjoy's servant Caesar, and, by putting two and two
together, she told me yesterday that it is her firm conviction--on the
slightest of proofs, remember--that Louis killed Gregory by means of
the black man."
"Humph!" said Fanks, thoughtfully; "I must see this lady. But if she
dislikes Sir Louis and Binjoy why does she stay in the service of the
former?"
Garth shrugged his shoulders. "One must live," he said, "and Mrs.
Jerusalem has a very easy time of it with my cousin. When my mother
died, and we were as poor as rats, my father got Louis's father to
take Mrs. Jerusalem into his service, and she has been there ever
since. Oh, she will not tell my cousin that I am here," concluded
Garth, with a satisfied nod.
"Mrs. Prisom may," suggested Fanks. "You may be sure that a good deal
of gossip goes on between inn and Hall. How long have you been here?"
"About three days."
"Then you may be certain that your cousin knows of your presence in
the village. If he has any danger to fear from you he will take his
measures accordingly. I don't like your Mrs. Jerusalem, Garth; she
ought to be true to her salt."
"I can't help that," retorted Garth, sulkily. "She would willingly
keep house for me if I had a house to keep, but as I have not she
stays where she is. But what do you think of her suspicions? Do yours
point in the same way?"
"They did not," replied Fanks, promptly; "but your discovery of Sir
Louis's visit to town on that night puts quite a different complexion
on the case. All the same, I can come to no conclusion until I see
this spy of yours."
"She isn't a spy," said Garth, gloomily. "I did not drag the
information out of the creature. She thought that she was doing me a
good turn by betraying my cousin. She thinks that if he killed Gregory
he ought to suffer, and let me have the property."
"And what do you think?" asked Fanks, with a keen glance.
"I don't want to build up my life on the ruins of another man's; it is
a bad foundation. I know you believe that I wish to get my cousin into
trouble, but you are wrong. I would help Louis to escape if I could."
"There may be no necessity for that; we have proved nothing against
him as yet. I hardly think that a man who has committed a crime would
put down money to hunt out himself, and thereby lose the benefit he
gained by his wickedness. No, no, Garth, I do not believe Sir Louis is
such a guilty fool. However, I shall give my opinion when I see him
and question Mrs. Jerusalem."
"Will you tell my cousin that I am here?"
"Certainly. There is nothing to be gained by concealment. You only
place your honour in the hands of that Jerusalem creature, and make
yourself her accomplice. However, I am ready to bet you that Sir Louis
knows you are here through Mrs. Prisom."
Garth made no reply, but stating that he was weary, went off to bed.
The detective, left alone, thought over what he had been told, and
found himself unable to come to any conclusion. He did not like the
way in which Garth was acting, but, all the same, he believed that the
lawyer had no ill intentions towards his cousin, despite Crate's
opinion to the contrary. The young man laughed as he thought how he
had picked up the trail of Garth when it had been lost by the astute
Crate. "I am afraid that Crate will never make a success of the
detective business," thought Fanks, lighting his pipe. "But I don't
agree with him about Garth; and I don't agree with Garth about Sir
Louis. Certainly, it is strange that Sir Louis should have feigned
illness, and shielded Binjoy, and then have gone up to town on that
night. What the deuce were he and his medical friend doing there? Dr.
Turnor knows; I believe that Sir Louis was alone with Binjoy in the
Great Auk Street house. It is odd, to say the least of it. I wonder if
that negro was the actual Caesar, or Binjoy or Sir Louis in disguise.
At all events, he wasn't Hersham, for that young man has exonerated
himself clearly enough. H'm. I'll reserve my decision as to Mrs.
Jerusalem's story till I see Sir Louis. Perhaps the secret of the
crime is to be found at Mere Hall, after all. No, no, no!" said Fanks,
getting on his feet with an emphatic stamp. "The secret is connected
with that tattooed cross. I wonder who can tell us about it."
At, this moment, as if in answer to his query, the door opened, and
Mrs. Prisom came in to clear away the dinner things. As a rule, she
left this duty to the parlour maid, but as Garth, an offshoot of the
great Fellenger family, was dining under her roof, she would let no
one but herself attend to him. She looked surprised when she saw that
Garth was not in the room. At once Fanks explained the absence of his
friend.
"Mr. Garth has retired to bed," he said, "as he is very tired. I shall
go myself soon, as your country air makes me sleepy, but at present I
should like to have a chat with you, Mrs. Prisom."
Mrs. Prisom smiled in an expansive manner, and expressed the honour
she felt at such a request, adding that she dearly loved a chat.
"All the better," thought Fanks, as she cleared away the dishes. "You
will be the more likely to tell me what I want to know."
In a few minutes the table was tidy, and Mrs. Prisom, at Fanks'
request, had brought in her knitting. He guessed that she would talk
better with the needles clicking in her active hands, and herein he
judged wisely, for thus employed Mrs. Prisom would gossip for hours,
provided she had a good listener.
"I suppose you knew the mother of Mr. Garth?" said Fanks, plunging at
once into the history of the Fellenger family.
"Miss Eleanor? Ah, that I did; but she was a proud young lady, and
didn't care to play with me, even as a child, because I was the
daughter of the steward. They were all proud, the Fellengers, except
Sir Francis."
"That was Sir Gregory's father?"
"Yes. There was Sir Francis, the eldest and the merry one; Mr.
Michael, the father of the present Baronet, Sir Louis, he was proud,
too; and then Miss Eleanor, who married Mr. Garth. But I liked Sir
Francis the best of all," concluded the old lady, with a sigh.
There was a look in her eyes as she said this, which made Fanks think
that she had been in love with the gay baronet, in the old days.
"He was a bonny man, Sir Francis Fellenger," she resumed. "Never a
maid but what he had a smile for, and many a kiss did he take without
the asking," laughed Mrs. Prisom. "Oh, he was a merry blade. But all
sailors have those ways."
"Was Sir Francis a sailor?" asked Fanks, suddenly.
"He was a Captain in the Navy before he came into the title," said
Mrs. Prisom, "then he settled down and married Miss Darmer, a
Shropshire lady. But she died, poor soul, when Sir Gregory was born,
and it was five weeks after her death, that Sir Francis was killed by
being thrown from his dog-cart."
"Sir Francis was a sailor?" asked Fanks, abruptly. "I suppose when he
went to sea and came home a middy, he had anchors, and ships, and true
lovers' knots, and such like things tattooed upon his skin."
"He just had," replied Mrs. Prisom, laughing. "He had quite a fancy
for that sort of thing. He told me he learnt how to do it in Japan."
"He learnt how to do it," echoed Fanks, leaning forward in his
excitement.
"Yes, yes; and very clever he was at drawing such pictures on the
skin. I shall never forget how angered my mother was when Sir
Francis--Master Francis he was then--insisted on pricking those blue
marks on my arm."
"Did he do that?" demanded the detective, little expecting what would
follow.
"He did, sir; the mark of it remains to this day," and Mrs. Prisom
drew up the sleeve of her left arm. Fanks bent forward, and saw
tattooed thereon--a cross. Was he then about to unravel the mystery of
the tattooed cross which had puzzled him for so long?