An hour later, Mrs. Heathcote died. I was not with her when she
breathed her last. My one object now was to do what I could for poor
little Gabrielle. In consequence, therefore, I made arrangements to
have an interview with Heathcote. It was no longer possible for the
wretched man to remain in hiding. His own hours were plainly numbered,
and it was more than evident that he had only anticipated his real
death by some months.
I saw him the next day, and he told me in a few brief words the story
of his supposed death and burial.
"I am being severely punished now," he said, "for the one great sin
of my life. I am a solicitor by profession, and when a young man was
tempted to appropriate some trust funds--hoping, like many another has
done before me, to replace the money before the loss was discovered. I
married, and had a happy home. My wife and I were devotedly attached
to each other. I was not strong, and more than one physician told me
that I was threatened with a serious pulmonary affection. About eight
months ago, the blow which I never looked for fell. I need not enter
into particulars. Suffice it to say that I was expected to deliver
over twelve thousand pounds, the amount of certain trusts committed to
me, to their rightful owners within three months' time. If I failed
to realize this money, imprisonment, dishonour, ruin, would be mine.
My wife and child would also be reduced to beggary. I had effected an
insurance on my life for fifteen thousand pounds. If this sum could be
realized, it would cover the deficit in the trust, and also leave a
small overplus for the use of my wife and daughter. I knew that my days
were practically numbered, and it did not strike me as a particularly
heinous crime to forestall my death by a few months. I talked the
matter over with my wife, and at last got her to consent to help me. We
managed everything cleverly, and not a soul suspected the fraud which
was practised on the world. Our old servants, who had lived with us
for years, were sent away on a holiday. We had no servant in the house
except a charwoman, who came in for a certain number of hours daily."
"You managed your supposed dying condition with great skill," I
answered. "That hemorrhage, the ghastly expression of your face, were
sufficiently real to deceive even a keen and clever man like Mackenzie."
Heathcote smiled grimly.
"After all," he said, "the fraud was simple enough. I took an emetic,
which I knew would produce the cadaverous hue of approaching death, and
the supposed hemorrhage was managed with some bullock's blood. I got it
from a distant butcher, telling him that I wanted it to mix with meal
to feed my dogs with."
"And how did you deceive the undertaker's men?" I asked.
"My wife insisted on keeping my face covered, and I managed to simulate
rigidity. As to the necessary coldness, I was cold enough lying with
only a sheet over me. After I was placed in the coffin my wife would
not allow anyone to enter the room but herself: she brought me food, of
course. We bored holes, too, in the coffin lid. Still, I shall never
forget the awful five minutes during which I was screwed down.
"It was all managed with great expedition. As soon as ever the
undertaker's men could be got out of the way, my wife unscrewed the
coffin and released me. We then filled it with bags of flour, which we
had already secured and hidden for the purpose. My supposed funeral
took place with due honours. I left the house that night, intending
to ship to America. Had I done this, the appalling consequences which
have now ended in the death of my wife might never have taken place,
but, at the eleventh hour, my courage failed me. I could do much to
shield my wife and child, but I could not endure the thought of never
seeing them again. Contrary to all my wife's entreaties, I insisted on
coming into the garden, for the selfish pleasure of catching even a
glimpse of Gabrielle's little figure, as she moved about her bedroom.
She saw me once, but I escaped through the shrubbery and by a door
which we kept on purpose unlocked, before she reached me. I thought I
would never again transgress, but once more the temptation assailed me,
and I was not proof against it. My health failed rapidly. I was really
dying, and on the morning when my wife's illness began, had suffered
from a genuine and very sharp attack of hemorrhage. She found me in the
wretched lodging where I was hiding in a state of complete misery, and
almost destitution. Something in my appearance seemed suddenly to make
her lose all self-control.
[Illustration: "WHEN YOU DIE, I WILL DIE."]
"'Horace,' she exclaimed, 'I cannot stand this. When you die, I will
die. We will carry our shame and our sorrow and our unhappy love into
the grave, where no man can follow us. When you die, I will die. Oh, to
see you like this drives me mad!'
"She left me. She told me when I saw her during those last few moments
yesterday, that she had hastened her end by a powerful dose of Indian
hemp. That is the story. I know that I have laid myself open to
criminal prosecution of the gravest character, but I do not think I
shall live to go through it."
Heathcote was right. He passed away that evening quite quietly in his
sleep.
Poor little Gabrielle! I saw her once since her parents' death, but it
is now a couple of years since I have heard anything about her. Will
she ever get over the severe shock to which she was subjected? What
does the future hold in store for her? I cannot answer these questions.
Time alone can do that.
_Beauties:--Children._
[Illustration: _From a Photo. by A. W. Cox, Nottingham._