FACE TO FACE.
Is it cruel remorse that now palsies his members.
And burns in his eye balls like fierce, glowing embers--
Or is it the shadow of shame that falls o'er him?
Ah, No! 'tis the spectre of vengeance, before him.
It was a trying ordeal for all concerned, but full and undeniable
identification was absolutely necessary before further proceedings could
be made in this important case.
After their first surprise, the ladies, true to their sex, realized the
necessity for self control and made ready for their disagreeable errand
with all possible speed. They entered a private room at Police
Headquarters and, one by one, were ushered into the presence of the
prisoner and put through the category of questions necessary to his
identification, after which, they were allowed to sit and await the
routine of examination until the last informer's signature was affixed
to the information given.
Sir Frederic was the first, and as his stern glance rested upon the
strangely attenuated form of the wretched young man, he felt that degree
of sympathy which borders on contempt for one so weak--so dwarfed in
soul and withal so miserable in his weakness,--and briefly stating what
he knew of the prisoner and his crimes, he stepped aside and waited
anxiously for the entrance of Mrs. Sinclair and Stella. When the former
entered the room the man who had called himself her son, rose suddenly
from his seat, drawing his still boyish form to its full height, while
his fearless eyes looked boldly into hers as if trying hard to force
into her mind the thoughts that were evidently at that moment surging
through his own.
Slowly a look of bewilderment, perplexity and seeming recognition crept
into her face as she gazed, and seeing Sir Frederic standing near, she
turned appealingly to him as if requesting aid in the solving of this
difficult mystery.
But Sir Frederic's expression only bewildered her more, for it was one
of painful consternation.
It was only when the first question was asked regarding her knowledge of
the man before her, that she regained composure, and not until some time
later did she mention the extraordinary resemblance which she again
detected between the prisoner and the husband she still so loved and
mourned.
During the entire period of Stella's presence in the room, the accused
man leaned jauntily back in his chair and bravely assumed an air of
indifferent composure, while his eyes roved admiringly over her innocent
face, and much of the old time passion flushed his cheek as he noted
with greedy eye the grace and beauty of her finely developed figure.
While his senses vibrated with the magnetic thrill of her presence, the
lustre returned to his wide, gray eyes and a smile of pleasure curved
his flexible lips, and not even the words of condemnation in her quiet
statement were sufficient to counteract the enjoyment which the simple
witnessing of her beauty brought him. He had thought her dead on that
memorable night when he stood by the ashes of Julia Webber's ruined
home, but her marriage to Sir Frederic brought her name so prominently
before the public that the error of his supposition was promptly
corrected and the few twinges of remorse which he had felt at that time
were contemptuously laughed to scorn. Now he was living over again the
few brief hours in which she had rested beneath his absolute control,
and in the memory of that circumstance, the present was forgotten.
His eyes followed her as she hastened to her husband's side after
affixing her signature to the imposing paper, but a moment later a
gentle rustle at the door aroused him, and turning suddenly, he found
himself face to face with the woman he had stabbed and left for dead, in
the gloomy passage of Whitechapel so many months ago. Thoroughly
surprised and with genuine alarm now stamped on every feature, he looked
wildly about as if to fly, while his cheeks and lips grew white at this
unlooked for apparition.
He had supposed Elizabeth dead, and thus far no knowledge of his being
suspected of the murder had ever reached him, for he reasoned that the
crimes committed in that wretched quarter of London were so numerous and
so almost untraceable, that he, like many other red handed assassins,
had escaped through a fortunate choice in the location of the deed. So
great was the sudden revulsion of thought and theory, that his reason
wavered for an instant as he gazed upon the delicate, black robed
figure.
The words of Julia Webber's warning were ringing in his ears, and before
he could fairly comprehend the terrible situation, the white faced woman
extended her arms and with a piercing cry of "Lawrie! Lawrie! my
darling, my husband!" threw herself upon his breast, and then for want
of a supporting arm, sank helplessly upon the floor at her destroyer's
feet.