SIR LOUIS EXPLAINS.
The outcome of Fanks' midnight meditations, was that he resolved to
devote himself entirely to following the clue afforded by Mrs.
Prisom's story of the tattooed cross. The dead father had chosen the
symbol of St Catherine's martyrdom for some unknown purpose; the
murdered son had perished while the same emblem was being tattooed on
his arm. For some reason he had wished to be marked in such a way, and
the murderer had taken advantage of the wish to inoculate the blood of
his victim with a deadly poison. If then, Fanks could learn the
significance of the cross, he might be able to fathom the mystery of
the death. The question he asked himself was, whether he could find
out the truth concerning the cross in the study of the late Sir
Francis.
The warning which the dead man had given to Mrs. Prisom, seemed
strange to the detective. That it was dictated by fear of Madaline
Garry, he felt sure; but as she had passed away, and had foregone her
vengeance it would seem that the warning was useless. Nevertheless,
Fanks resolved to see the desk referred to by Mrs. Prisom, and to
search for the evidence hinted at by Sir Francis. Also, for reasons of
his own, which the reader may guess, he wired to Hersham at the
Fairview vicarage, to seek an explanation from his father relative to
the cross tattooed on his arm. The tale of the Reverend Hersham might
show why the special symbol of Sir Francis was figuring on the skin of
a young man who had nothing to do with the Fellengers and their mad
freaks. After concluding the first part of his scheme by despatching
this letter, Fanks proceeded to the second, and walked to Mere Hall to
see the desk referred to by Mrs. Prisom. Garth had refused to
accompany the detective to the Hall; and gave his reason for such
refusal. "It is no good my going," he said, "I don't wish to see my
cousin; and if, as you think, he knows that I am here, there is no
longer any reason why I should stay in Damington. I shall go up to
town by the midday train, and leave you to find out if he has anything
to do with the crime."
"Well, as I know all you know, and a great deal more besides, I don't
think it is necessary for you to stay," said Fanks, dryly. "I'll
follow up the clue afforded by the malice of Mrs. Jerusalem. Return to
town by all means, and if you want anything to do, just join Crate in
watching the Red Star Hotel in which Mrs. Boazoph lies ill."
This Garth promised readily enough, much to the amusement of Fanks, as
the latter was simply throwing him into the society of Crate in order
to afford that person a chance of learning the connection--if any--of
Garth with the crime. He was assured in his own mind that Garth was
innocent, but he was willing to afford Crate some innocent amusement,
by setting him to find the mare's nest of his own imagination. When
Garth, therefore, departed, Fanks smiled in his own quiet way; and
went off to solve the more difficult riddle which awaited him at Mere
Hall.
When he was nearing the Hall, a woman stepped out of a gap in the
hedge almost in front of him. She was dressed in a black silk dress
with lavender coloured shawl over her shoulders; and she wore also a
bonnet of grey velvet made Quaker fashion, and close fitting over the
ears. But it was not at her dress that Fanks looked; he was staring at
the most malignant countenance he ever saw in his life. She was pale
and thin-lipped; her hair and eyes and eyebrows were of a light, sandy
hue; and she had a stealthy, observant way with her, which made Fanks
mistrust her on the instant. Like an apparition she arose from the
ground; and laid one thin hand on his breast to detain him.
"One moment, Mr. Fanks," she said, in a perfectly unemotional voice.
"You must speak to me before you go to Mere Hall."
"Why must I?" demanded Fanks, with a stare, "and how is it you know my
name?"
"Mr. Garth told me your name and your errand."
"Oh!" cried Fanks, remembering Garth's excuse for retiring to bed on
the previous night. "So you are Mrs. Jerusalem?"
"That is my name; and I wish to tell you--"
"I wish to hear nothing," said Fanks, roughly. "Mr. Garth had no
business to speak about me. What is there between you and him that he
should act in this underhand way without telling me? He said he was
going to bed last night. Instead of that, he sneaks out and sees you."
"There you are wrong," replied Mrs. Jerusalem, still without a trace
of emotion. "Mr. Garth did not come to me. On the contrary, it was I
who came to him at the inn while you were talking to Mrs. Prisom. He
came out of his bedroom to see me for a few moments; and then I went
away."
"And why did he not tell about this meeting?" asked Fanks, angrily.
"Because I asked him not to. I wished to take you by surprise. If you
had heard of my midnight visit, you might mistrust me; as it is--"
"As it is, I mistrust you still. Well, Mrs. Jerusalem, we will waive
the point. I know you accuse Sir Louis of this murder. Is it to betray
the master whose bread you eat, that you have sought this meeting?"
"That is just why I am here," was the quiet reply. "I hate my
master--"
"Because his father, Michael Fellenger, treated you ill. I know all
about that, Mrs. Jerusalem."
"Ah!" said the woman, coldly. "I see you employed your time with Mrs.
Prisom to good purpose. Well, you can understand that I hate Sir
Louis, and I would gladly see Francis Garth sit in his place?"
"And for this purpose you have concocted a story against Sir Louis."
"I have concocted no story. I tell the truth. Sir Louis and Dr. Binjoy
went up to London on the night of the murder; although they now
pretend that the one was ill, and the other attended him. They sent me
out of the house on that night; but I suspected, I watched, I
discovered. Do you know why the pair went up to London?" she
continued, grasping Fanks by the arm. "To kill Sir Gregory. Do you
know why they killed Sir Gregory? To get money for their scientific
experiments. Do you know how they killed Sir Gregory? Ask them about
the poisoned needle. Yes. They made use of their scientific knowledge
to slay the man whose money they wanted."
"Who put the advertisement in the paper?"
"Ask Mrs. Boazoph, she knows."
"Does she?" said Fanks, disgusted with her malignity, "and perhaps you
know about the tattooed cross?"
"No, I don't know about the tattooed cross," said Mrs. Jerusalem, "but
I daresay Madaline Garry can tell you."
"Madaline Garry? Do you know her? Is she still alive?"
"I know her, she is still alive. See Sir Louis, Mr. Fanks," said the
woman, stretching out her lean hand, "tear the mask off the lying face
of Dr. Binjoy who loved Madaline Garry and ask him where she lives;
and what evil he has worked with her aid?"
More Fanks would have asked, but with a sudden movement she eluded his
detaining hand, and before he could recover from his astonishment she
was far down the road to the village, gliding like an evil shadow into
the sunny distance. Fanks thought of following her, but on second
thoughts he pursued his journey to the Hall. "Sir Louis and Binjoy
first," he muttered, "afterwards Mrs. Jerusalem and Madaline Garry."
Despite his belief in the evidence of Mrs. Jerusalem, which was
obviously dictated by a malignant spirit, he caught himself wondering
if she was really right, and if, after all, Sir Louis was guilty. But
the moment afterwards he rejected this idea, as it was incredible that
Sir Louis would commit a crime and then offer a reward for the
detection of the assassin. Still Fanks admitted to himself that if Sir
Louis was not frank, he would find it difficult to come to a decision
touching his innocence or guilt.
On sending in his card at Mere Hall, the detective was admitted into
the study of Sir Louis Fellenger. Here he found not the baronet but
his old acquaintance Dr. Renshaw, who advanced boldly and introduced
himself as Dr. Binjoy. In place of wearing a thick brown beard he was
clean-shaven, and his face looked young, fresh-coloured, and smooth.
For the rest he was as tall and burly as ever, as unctuous in his
speech; and to complete the resemblance between himself and the doctor
of Tooley's Alley, there lurked an unmistakable look of anxiety in his
grey eyes. It was impossible to think how he hoped to deceive so
clever a man as Fanks by so slight a change in his personal
appearance; but he evidently thought Fanks knew nothing of the truth,
for he came forward with a bland smile, prepared to carry on the
comedy.
"My dear sir," said Binjoy, with magnificent pompousness, "your card
was brought to Sir Louis, but he has been busy in his laboratory, and
is rather untidy in consequence, he deputed me to receive you. Pray be
seated."
Fanks smiled slightly and sat down, while Dr. Binjoy, rendered uneasy
by the silence, carried on a difficult conversation.
"I presume, Mr. Fanks, that you have come to report your doings to Sir
Louis touching this unfortunate death of my friend's predecessor in
the title. May I ask if you have any clue to the assassin?"
"Oh, yes," said Fanks, quietly; "you will be pleased to hear, Dr.
Binjoy, that I have every hope of arresting the right man."
Binjoy turned grey and looked anything but delighted. Indeed an
unprejudiced observer would have said that he looked thoroughly
frightened. But he controlled himself so far as to falter out a
question as to the name of the guilty man. Fanks mentioned the name of
Renshaw, and thereby reduced his listener to a state of abject terror.
"Renshaw is innocent, sir," said the doctor, tremulously, "I would he
were here to defend himself; but he is in India at present, at Bombay.
I received a letter from him, dated from Aden."
"How strange," said Fanks, innocently; "Dr. Turnor got a letter from
him also."
Binjoy saw that he had over-reached himself, and bit his lip. "We need
discuss Renshaw no longer," he said, coolly. "Let us talk of other
matters till Sir Louis enters."
"By all means," said Fanks. "Let me ask you, Dr. Binjoy, what you
were doing at Dr. Turnor's in Great Auk Street on the night of the
twenty-first?"
Binjoy went pale again, and stammered out a denial. "I was not in town
on that night," he protested. "I was attending on Sir Louis, who was
ill. I never left the house at Taxton-on-Thames."
"Oh, yes, you did. You went up with Sir Louis."
"Prove it, prove it," gasped Binjoy, with white lips.
"I can prove it by the mouth of Mrs. Jerusalem. She saw you leave; she
saw Sir Louis return alone."
"A lie! A lie!"
"It is not a lie, and you know it. It is time to have done with this
farce, Dr. Binjoy. I know who you are. I know all about your
impersonation and disguise. I know why you called yourself Renshaw. I
traced you to Plymouth and saw you disembark; I followed you to this
place, and now I have you."
Binjoy stared wildly for a moment at seeing his mask of lies fall away
from him, and then sank back in his chair with a shiver, moaning and
crying. "It is a lie, a lie," was all he could gasp.
"It is not a lie," said a voice at the door, and Fanks turned to see
Sir Louis. "It is not a lie," repeated the baronet. "Binjoy is
Renshaw; he went up with me to town on the night of the twenty-first.
If you want to know who killed my cousin, Mr. Fanks, there is the
assassin."