A LETTER FROM HERSHAM, SENIOR.
Upon hearing this untruthful and obstinate denial of the baronet's
story, Fanks wheeled round his chair, until it directly faced that of
Binjoy. At the sullen creature he looked sternly, and shook an
emphatic forefinger in his face.
"Now look you here, Dr. Binjoy, or Renshaw, or whatever you choose to
call yourself," he said, sternly. "I believe that Sir Louis has spoken
the truth about this matter. I have not the least doubt that you and
your accomplice, Turnor, lured him into the Tooley Alley crime, with
which, to my belief, he has nothing to do whatever. You laid a trap,
and he fell into it--unluckily for him; but for his wise resolution to
confess his doings on that night to me, I have no doubt that you would
have blackmailed him."
"I did not want to blackmail him," said Binjoy in a low voice. "I did
not lure him into a trap. On the contrary, when I found out that it
was his cousin who had been murdered, I did all I could to save
him--to draw suspicion on to myself. I feigned the voyage to Plymouth;
I made use of my false name; I sent off Caesar to Bombay; and I closed
the mouth of Dr. Turnor. What more could you expect me to do?"
"I quite believe that you did all these things; and for why? Because
you wished to rivet your chains more securely on your victim. When you
found that he was in possession of the property, you resolved to get
whatever money you wanted out of him in order to lead a debauched life
in town. Oh, yes, Doctor, I quite believe you changed your name and
assumed a disguise while in London. You did not wish that the scampish
Renshaw of the Red Star should be identified with, the respectable Dr.
Binjoy, late of Taxton-on-Thames, and now of Mere Hall in Hampshire. I
can understand that, and I can understand that you designed the murder
so that Sir Louis could become possessed of money which you intended
to spend."
"I did not design the murder," said Binjoy, in a hoarse voice. "I
swear I do not know who committed the crime. When I was called in by
Mrs. Boazoph, I was as ignorant as anyone that Gregory Fellenger had
been murdered. I only acted as I did because I saw how dangerous it
was that Louis should be suspected. He was in the neighbourhood--"
"Lured there by yourself?"
"No! No! I did not lure him there. That we should be at Turnor's
house, so near to Tooley's at that time, was quite an accident."
"Was it an accident that Dr. Turnor came down to Taxton-on-Thames, and
threatened to blackmail me," broke in Louis.
"I know nothing of what Turnor said or did. It was not because you
paid him money that he held his tongue; but because I told him to do
so."
"You tried to blackmail me, also. That was why we quarrelled; that was
why you were going away next week. And I dare swear, Binjoy," added
Sir Louis, quietly, "that had you gone, you would have found means to
betray me to the police. That is why I have told Mr. Fanks everything.
You cannot harm me now.
"Don't you be too sure of that," growled Binjoy; "you have got to
clear yourself of suspicion."
"Sir Louis has cleared himself in my eyes," said Fanks. "But you have
yet to explain what became of the poisoned needle."
"I do not know; I missed it as did Sir Louis, but I do not know who
took it. You can't prove that I committed the crime."
"I am not sure of that," said Fanks, coolly. "See here, Dr. Binjoy,
you wanted Sir Louis to get the Fellenger estates so that you could
handle the money. Sir Louis can prove that much. You had access to
this poisoned needle with which the crime was committed; you went up
to London on the evening of the twenty-first of June; you repaired to
the Red Star about the time the deed was committed; you lied about
your name; you took a pretended voyage; you sent your negro to Bombay
in order to throw the suspicion on him. Now you attempt to blackmail
Sir Louis--you and Turnor--by threatening to accuse him of committing
a crime of which he is guiltless. From my own soul I believe that he
is the victim of conspiracy; I believe that you lured him up to Great
Auk Street to entangle him in the matter. And," added Fanks, rising,
"I believe that you, in disguise of a negro, killed Sir Gregory
Fellenger with that poisoned needle."
"I did not. I swear I did not. It is all a mistake," gasped the
wretched man. "Ask Turnor."
"The other blackguard, the other blackmailer? No, thank you. He would
only lie to me as you are doing. You are guilty. Confess your share in
this crime. Confess the mystery of the tattooed cross."
"The tattooed cross? What do you know about the tattooed cross?"
"More than you think," returned Fanks, significantly. "What about
Madaline Garry and her revenge?"
Binjoy's eyes seemed to be starting out of his head with terror and
surprise. His face was of a deathly paleness, and great drops of
perspiration rolled down his cheeks. He tried to speak, but the words
rattled in his throat, and with a gasp the man, strong as he was,
fainted quietly in the chair. He had been struck down by his own
terrors; rendered insensible by an instinctive knowledge of his
danger.
"What do you intend to do, Mr. Fanks?" asked Louis, looking at the
inanimate form of Binjoy with strong distaste. "Arrest this man?"
"I do. I shall send a telegram to London to get a detective down. In
the meantime--I shall stay here so as not to lose sight of him."
"You don't think that I would help him to escape?" said Louis,
indignantly. "I am only too glad to see the scoundrel captured. He has
been the curse of my life ever since my father placed me in his care;
he spoilt my nature, he half ruined me, but I stood it all until he
tried to blackmail me. Then I revolted against his tyranny. If you had
not appeared here so opportunely I should have written for you to come
and hear my confession. I admit that I was afraid to speak before, for
these villains had laid their plans so skilfully that I was afraid my
tale would not be believed. But now the scamp has been caught in his
own trap, and I am glad of it."
"All the same, I am not sure that he killed your cousin."
"Why not? All the circumstances seem to point to his having done so."
"No doubt. But some time ago I thought I had spotted the person who
had executed the crime. From that opinion I am not inclined to depart.
Evidently, Binjoy knows all about the affair, and possibly he may be
brought in as the accessory before the fact, but you can see for
yourself that the man is a rank coward. He has fainted. No man of his
timid nature would be brave enough to commit so daring a crime, and
then face me within an hour of such commission. No, Sir Louis, we have
not yet caught the assassin."
"Then why arrest Binjoy?"
"Because he knows who is guilty, and I wish to force him into
confession. Just send the servant with this telegram, will you, and
tell him to ask if there are any letters for me at the Pretty Maid
Inn?"
"What about Binjoy?"
"Leave him here with me for a time. Should I get a letter I may ask
you to take me over the house. Till then I shall watch my man."
"What is this letter you expect?" demanded Louis, with curiosity.
"I'll tell you that when I have despatched my telegram. Send a groom
with it at once, please."
Sir Louis obeyed and left the room, while Fanks remained to revive the
insensible Binjoy. He threw water on his face, loosened his collar,
but the doctor still continued insensible. Becoming alarmed, Fanks
rang the bell, and sent for a medical man. The upshot of the affair
was that Binjoy was put to bed in high fever. The shock inflicted on
him by the detective had unsettled his brain; and when Crate arrived
at Mere Hall there was no question of arresting the guilty man. Binjoy
was dangerously ill, and suffering from an attack of brain fever. What
with the doctor ill in the country and Mrs. Boazoph ill in town, Fanks
began to grow uneasy. If all the principals of the case were rendered
incapable of confession in this manner, he did not see how he was to
arrive at any solution of the riddle. He was two days meditating over
the next move in the game. "Mrs. Boazoph knows something," said Fanks,
to himself, "and Dr. Binjoy knows more; but if both are ill and
incapable of confession, what am I to do?"
There was no answer to this question, but later on the detective's
hands were full in elucidating the mystery of the tattooing. He asked
the baronet if he knew anything about the fancy Sir Francis had for
pricking crosses on the arms of women whom he loved.
"I never heard of it," said Louis. "I did not know much about my uncle
Francis, and still less about my cousin, his son Gregory. I am afraid
we are a singularly unamiable family, Mr. Fanks, for we all seem to
quarrel."
"Have you quarrelled with Garth?"
"Not exactly. But we do not get on well together. He used to come and
see me at Taxton-on-Thames, but I am afraid he thought me a scientific
prig. Indeed, he hinted so much."
Fanks laughed at this, remembering how Garth had made use of the words
attributed to him by Sir Louis. However, he did not explain the reason
of his laughter, but asked the baronet about Madaline Garry. To this
also he received a denial. Sir Louis knew nothing about the lady or
her connection with the late Sir Francis.
"All these things were before my time," he said, shaking his head. "If
you want to know about our family secrets, ask Mrs. Prisom, at the
inn. I believe she is a perfect book of anecdotes regarding the
Fellenger family."
"I have asked her," said Fanks, quietly. "She told me a great deal;
but not all I wish to know. Is there anyone else?"
"Well, there was Mrs. Jerusalem," said Sir Louis. "But she has walked
off. I intended to tell you, since you referred to her."
"Where has she gone?"
"I do not know. On that day you met her she went off and never came
back. I can't say I am sorry, as I feel, from your description, she
bore me ill-will. Perhaps on account of the way my father treated her;
but you must ask Mrs. Prisom to tell you that story."
"I don't need to do that," replied Fanks. "I know that Mrs. Jerusalem
hated you, and that is enough. She must have intended to bolt the day
I met her; but I thought she would have waited with the amiable
intention of assisting you into trouble. I wish I knew where she had
gone."
"Perhaps she will come back?"
"Let us hope so. Now that Binjoy is ill, and she hates him, I should
like to know what she can say about him. By the way, there is a
question I wish to ask you. Why was it, when you were afraid of being
implicated in the crime, that you offered to supply the money for me
to hunt down the criminal?"
"Well, that was Binjoy's idea. You see he thought that he had
completely destroyed the trail likely to bring you across my track; so
he said it would still further avert suspicion if I offered that
reward. I did so, but, to tell you the honest truth, if I had not
intended to confide in you in order to stop the blackmailing of
Messrs. Binjoy and Turnor, I should not have risked doing so. By the
way, are you going to arrest that atrocious little scamp?"
"Not yet. Binjoy is ill, and cannot have warned him; Mrs. Boazoph is
in the same plight; no, I will let him wait. He has no idea that he is
in any danger. When the time comes, I will pounce on him, if
necessary; though I hope he will not take a fit also. I can get
nothing out of Binjoy or Mrs. Boazoph, while they are ill."
"You may not need to do so. You may find out the truth when the letter
comes from Hersham."
"I wish it would come," said Fanks. "I want to know why he has the
same symbol on his arm as that on the arms of Mrs. Prisom and Madaline
Garry."
"You speak as if Madaline Garry were still alive?"
"Mrs. Jerusalem says she is. That is why I want to trace Mrs.
Jerusalem; she might help me to learn where I can find Madaline Garry.
The clue to the mystery of the cross lies with her; or else," added
Fanks, "it is hidden in the desk of the late Sir Francis. You remember
I told you his parting words to Mrs. Prisom?"
Two days after this the long expected letter came from Hersham. And
not only from him, but one from his father, was enclosed also. The
contents caused Fanks surprise; and yet, he half expected to read what
he did. He was beginning to guess the mystery which filled Dr. Binjoy
and Mrs. Boazoph with such fear. After all, he would be able to
discover the truth without them; although their testimony would be
necessary to confirm it.
"Dear Fanks" (wrote Hersham). "When you read the enclosed, you will be
astonished, as I was. I have not yet recovered from the shock of
learning the truth; but, as you will see, the mystery of the tattooed
cross is a greater one than ever. I can give you no assistance--all is
told in the enclosed letter, which I particularly asked to be written
for you. I cannot say if it will solve the Tooley Alley riddle, but it
has certainly invested my life with a mystery which I shall not rest
until I solve. I can write no more, for my head is in a whirl. Tell me
what you think of enclosed. And believe me, yours, Ted Hersham (as I
suppose I may still sign myself)."
The enclosed was a letter from the Rev. George Hersham, to the effect
that Ted was not his son; that he was no relation to him.
"I am a bachelor" (wrote Mr. Hersham). "I adopted Ted from motives of
pity, and a desire to cheer my lonely life. Nearly twenty-eight years
ago, a poorly clad woman came to my door. She was starving, and
carried an infant in her arms. I gave her succour, and procured her
work. After a time, she grew restless, and wished to go away, but in
that time I had become fond of the child. In the end, I offered to
adopt it. To this she consented, rather to my surprise; though,
indeed, she did not seem at any time very much attached to the babe.
However, she gave me the child, and went away with a little money I
had given her. I afterwards received a letter from her in London, but
she then stopped writing, and for years I have never heard anything
about her. The child--now my son, Ted--was marked with a cross on the
left arm, when I adopted him. The woman never told me why he had been
so tattooed. I knew nothing of the woman's history, save that her name
was--Madaline Garry."