THE BEGINNING OF THE END.
Ritson and Herries appeared to be the only members of the company who
were surprised by Mrs. Narby's announcement. Gowrie, in a state of
high glee, leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and his pipe in
his mouth.
"Aye, mistress," said he portentously, "ye're fighting for yer young
like the milky mither o' the herd, wha horns the rash intruder wha wud
convart her caulf into veal. The muckle great deil tak ye for a
leear."
"Gowrie," cried Herries, who was on his feet, "you knew all along!"
"Nae, nae, ye'll nae mack me compromise maesel in yon way. I hed ma
suspeecions, though no o' her."
"Say plainly," Herries rapped the table, "is Mrs. Narby guilty
or----?"
"I'm nae varra sure."
"Captain Kyles?" he appealed to the skipper, who stood by Mrs. Narby,
with folded arms and a grim smile.
"I accuse the son."
"It's a bloomin' lie," panted the landlady, who looked a gruesome
object, with her grey hair disarranged and her bonnet askew. "It wos
me who cut th' ole man's 'orrid throat. Pope wouldn't 'urt a fly. I
did h'it fur the tin, so es t' 'elp Pope t' be a great man."
"You don't seem to be surprised, Señora Guzman," said Herries, looking
at the composed face of the Mexican lady.
"Captain Kyles told me long ago that Pope Narby was guilty."
"Me! Me! Me!" declared Mrs. Narby with vehemence, and wreathed her old
arms round the shaking, drooping figure of her miserable son.
"Aye, aye," commented the sage, pointing with the stem of his pipe,
"mark hoo th' mither-luve rins thro' a' th' wand. Yon's Alfred
Tennyson, I'm theenkin'."
Herries, who was the person principally interested, seeing that on the
truth of this statement depended the possession of fifty thousand a
year, turned to the mother and son.
"Which one of you did it?" he demanded. "I must know for certain."
Pope made no reply, for his tongue clove to the roof of his palate,
and Mrs. Narby, wiping his damp brow with her handkerchief, replied
for him.
"I tell you I killed yer bloomin' uncle."
"And I say that Pope Narby did," declared the skipper decisively.
"And I," cried Maud, rising suddenly and stretching out her arm in a
threatening manner, "I say that Bruce Kyles is the assassin."
Señora Guzman leaned across the table, and pushed Maud back on to the
divan.
"If you dare to say that, I'll have you thrown overboard. Bruce," she
addressed the Captain imperiously, "tell them what happened on that
night. Mr. Herries knows that we came to England to get money for the
expedition; he knows that you made love to Maud by my order, so that
Sir Simon should help us; and he has been told that Sir Simon wrote a
letter saying that this woman," she pointed to the indignant Maud,
"was disinherited, and that he would meet you at the inn to pay you to
give her up. Give her up," laughed the lady insultingly, "a woman for
whom he did not care two straws while I lived to be his wife."
"It's a lie--a lie. Bruce, Bruce, you love me, me only," and Maud
looked at her quondam lover with agonised appeal.
"I don't love you at all," mumbled the skipper in the most brazen
manner, and cutting anything but an heroic figure, "you knew that I
was engaged to Señora Guzman, and yet you wanted me to throw her over
and be your husband. I never had any intention of marrying you. All I
wanted was to get money out of your father, and----"
"Oh, cut it short, you hound," interrupted Herries fiercely.
Kyles turned livid.
"You are on my boat, in my power," he said, in a slow and deadly
manner.
"What do I care for that?" retorted the young man, facing the
buccaneer with determination. "You have acted like a cur towards my
cousin."
"No, no," moaned Maud, who persisted in believing that Kyles was
acting a part, because Señora Guzman was present, "if I had the money
he would marry me."
"Very good," said Herries. "Captain Kyles, I offer you half the money
left by my uncle, that is, twenty-five thousand a year, if you will
marry Maud Tedder."
"Bruce! Bruce!" cried Maud, stretching out her arms, "you consent?"
"Bruce," cried Donna Maria, in her turn, with flashing eyes, "you
promised me to----"
Kyles interrupted both with an imperious gesture.
"I stick to my one and only love, and that is Maria Guzman," he said
sharply, but his face was pale. "I have four thousand pounds. With
that I'll find the treasure and have five millions. Then we'll--but
that's neither here nor there, Herries," he wheeled round to face that
most indignant gentleman, "you may think what you like. It is not to
my interest to kill you or to keep you prisoner. You shall hear all I
know and then go free. For your opinion of me I don't care that," and
he snapped his fingers contemptuously.
Herries eyed him with scorn.
"Fewer words would have done, Kyles. I wait to hear what you have to
say."
"Aye," said the sage gravely, "we're wasting valuable meenutes, an'
it's dry wark, a' this talk wi'oot the cheerin' cup."
Kyles flushed and winced at the tone of Herries, and cast a glance at
Mrs. Narby, who was still fondling her miserable, tongue-tied son.
Then he straightened himself, and his face brightened when his eyes
rested on the wooden box, which contained the money he had risked so
much to get. He spoke quietly and to the point.
"Sir Simon," said Captain Kyles, "objected to my marrying his
daughter, and wanted me to give her up. To gain my own ends, I
refused. Then he offered to bribe me with one thousand pounds. I
declined, and said that I would take two thousand."
Herries shrugged his shoulders, but did not look up. Kyles reddened at
this sign of contempt, and continued more rapidly, as though eager to
get the shameful tale ended. The rest of the company, even the lively
Gowrie, held their peace.
"Sir Simon then made his plans. He signed a will disinheriting Maud,
save for £1,000 a year, and giving the money to you, Herries, provided
you found out who killed him, and----"
"Why did he do that?"
"Because he was to have an interview with me at a lonely inn, and
fancied that in a fit of anger I might kill him, or else might get rid
of him and marry Maud with her money. That was the reason he
disinherited the girl, and why he put in the proviso about the
discovery of the murderer, who would, in Sir Simon's opinion, be me."
"I see," said Herries quietly, "Sir Simon wanted to make sure if you
did kill him that you would not get the benefit of your crime by
marrying Maud and her money."
"That's it," assented the Captain, "but I need hardly say, that I had
no idea of killing the old man. When I got his letter, I arranged to
go to the inn, and receive the two thousand. Then I would have gone
away. As I was not certain of what time I would be at the inn, Sir
Simon said that he would put a red light in his bedroom window, and
that I could climb up, or that he would admit me by the door when
everyone was in bed."
"I don't see the reason for all these precautions," said Herries, in
an impatient manner.
"Ah, now you trench on politics. I was being watched by emissaries
from our Indiana Republic, and ran a chance of being stabbed or shot.
I had reason to believe that they got wind of my engagement at the
'Marsh Inn' and would be on the watch. That was why I would not fix
the exact time for calling on Sir Simon. He expected me earlier, but I
said that I might be late, so he invented the red handkerchief signal.
Well, to make a long story short, I went to the 'Marsh Inn' with
Señora Guzman----"
"That is, he went in the launch," she interrupted quickly. "I remained
on board the launch, and----"
"Yes, yes," Herries interrupted in his turn, "I know how you sent the
sailors to see if any Indiana person was about, and how they kidnapped
Armour by mistake. Well, Captain, you got to the inn--at what time,
may I ask?"
"Shortly after midnight. I walked through the rain and the fog, with
my revolver in my hand. I knew where the inn was, as I had been there
before. I noted the red light in the window----"
"I saw you--I saw you," cried Maud, looking at him eagerly.
"I am aware of that, seeing what took place afterwards."
"It was for your sake," she gasped, with a side glance at Herries.
"What is that, Maud?" asked the young man quietly.
"You'll hear in due time if you will allow me to go on with my story,"
said Kyles testily. "It's getting late and I wish to get away as soon
as possible."
"Go on then," said Ritson who was deeply interested.
"I scrambled up to the window which was open. It had been left
ajar on purpose by Sir Simon. I am not heavy," the Captain cast a
complacent look at his slim figure, "so I easily clambered up the
trellis-work----"
"You broke it, you beast," said Mrs. Narby savagely.
"Pooh," rejoined Kyles good-humouredly, "I did very little harm. I
easily slipped into the room, wondering why Sir Simon was not on the
look-out. I spoke his name softly. There was no reply, so I came
gently from behind the dressing table, which had been moved to one
side, and went to the bed----"
"Was there a light in the room?" asked Ritson eagerly.
"Oh yes, a candle which was placed behind a red handkerchief so as to
signal the special room I was to climb into. I took the candle, and
then to my horror saw that Sir Simon was lying dead with his throat
cut."
"You did it," cried Maud with a sob.
"I did not," cried Kyles savagely, "the man was dead when I entered
the room. His pocket-book lay on the table along with a razor, and a
few papers. I could not find the money, else I should have gone away
in silence. Then I heard a footstep, and concealed myself behind the
curtains of the bed. The door opened gently, and this creature," he
pointed to Pope, who shuddered, "crept in softly. He had a bloody
towel in his hands with which he wiped them, and then began to examine
the pocket-book. I crept out, and caught him by the throat. He nearly
fainted."
"You hurt me," moaned Pope at this moment, and his mother fondled him.
"I would have choked you had I had the two thousand pounds safe at
that time," said Kyles savagely, "to go and murder an old man in his
sleep."
"I did it--I did it," cried Mrs. Narby like a parrot, and trembling
violently with mixed emotions of rage and terror.
"That's rubbish, as I can prove. I made Pope confess. He said that he
had been tempted by the gold and notes, which he had seen in the
parlour. He crept up the stairs shortly before midnight and cut Sir
Simon's throat, then he emptied the pocket-book, and took the money to
his own room downstairs at the back of the house. He had come back,
when I caught him, to see if he had taken everything. He also told me
that you, Herries, the nephew of the old man, were in the next room
asleep."
"How did he know that I was Sir Simon's nephew?"
"He heard your name, and your talk with Gowrie."
"I didn't mention to Gowrie that I was Sir Simon's nephew."
"Aye. I can stake my life on that, laddie."
"I'll explain,--I'll explain," said Kyles impatiently, "however, to
continue. I promised to say nothing, if Pope went down and brought up
the money. On that condition I let him go. He went and never returned.
I waited and waited in that dismal room with the one candle, and the
corpse on the bed. Then I thought that the red light might attract the
attention of any Indiana spy who was about, so I put out the light and
sat in the dark. Pope never came."
"Why not?" asked Herries surprised.
Pope opened his mouth to speak, but his watchful mother put her hand
over his mouth.
"You never did it, lovey; you know nothink," she said, significantly.
"But I can prove that he did," said Kyles. "Pope did not return," he
went on quickly, "because he knew that I could not give the alarm
without incriminating myself, and he intended, if I did, to accuse me
of killing the old man. I guessed that, and afterwards I made him
confess that he intended to act in that way. So there I sat in the
darkness. Then I remembered the papers on the table, and examined them
to see if Sir Simon had made any mention of the appointment. I found
my own letter, and confiscated that----"
"How did you see in the dark?" asked Ritson, suspiciously.
"I lighted matches, as I was afraid to relight the candle. Well then,
I also found a small pocket diary written up to the time Sir Simon
went to bed. It mentioned that Angus Herries was in the house, and
sleeping there----"
"How did my uncle know that?" asked Herries much amazed.
"He overheard your voice raised when talking to Gowrie, and peered out
of the parlour to see who it was. He recognised you----"
"Nae, nae," said Gowrie waving the smoke away from his eyes, "he
cudnae hae recognised the laddie sae changed wi' weary travels. But
Angus here talked tae me, his auld tutor, and I spoke his name at
times. Aye, and I mind me noo, the door of the parlour opened and
shut, while we hed oor crack."
"I don't remember that," said Angus thoughtfully.
"Aye, but I do, ma laddie. Ye were sae taken up wi' yer tale of
woe,--and verra sad it wis,--that ye didna hear nor see. But I keeked
oot o' the tail o' ma ee, and saw,--though tae be sure I didna weel
ken at the time it wis yer lawfu' uncle. Hed I kenned I micht hae
touched him for a shullin' or two."
"You evidently robbed Herries instead," said Kyles contemptuously.
"Eh, but that's actionable. I'll hale ye afore the magistrate for yon
speech. Hoo d'y' ken I wis in Herries' room."
"I heard you muttering to yourself. Your accent betrayed you."
"Well, and wherefore no. I joost looked in tae see that my puir laddie
wis asleep."
"And you took his money. Pope Narby found that out."
Gowrie turned wrathfully on the culprit.
"D'y' ken yon's a base lee?"
"Here," interrupted Herries, growing weary of all this talk, "get on
with what you have to say, Captain Kyles. We can settle these minor
details later. What did you do when Narby did not return?"
"I waited until the morning, then assumed Sir Simon's coat and boldly
walked out of the inn."
"Why did you wait until the morning?"
"For two reasons. First, I wanted to get the money which Pope had
taken away, and thought up to the last moment that he would return.
And second, when I did have a half idea of escaping by the window,
Armour came and sat down beneath it And there was a third reason,"
added Kyles, with his eyes on Maud Tedder.
"One moment before you proceed further," said Ritson quickly. "How can
we believe all this about Pope Narby?"
"There's his confession," said Kyles, taking a packet from his breast
pocket and throwing it across the table. "I saw him later; he refused
to give up the money, but I made him sign that confession by
threatening to arrest him, and----"
"Pope," yelled Mrs. Narby, "oh, you fool, did you sign----?"
"I had to, mother," moaned her son, "and Captain Kyles said he would
save me by taking me away to America."
"And I'll do that," said Kyles nodding. "Herries, Ritson, you have now
the truth. That confession repeats all that I have told you, and has
been signed by Pope Narby, who killed Sir Simon. You can now leave the
four thousand pounds with me and go ashore. I am off in another hour
from these waters. But one thing I'll say before I go," he declared,
"you, Herries, have defended your cousin, and have blamed me for
treating her as I did. But you have very little reason to decry me,
and defend her. For it was your cousin who placed the razor and the
pocket-book in your room and who smeared your shirt with her father's
blood."
"Maud!" cried Herries, horrified, and started to his feet.
"Yes, I did," she said, with pinched lips and a bloodless face, "I got
into the inn, as I told you, but I did not run away when I heard Mr.
Gowrie coming out of the bedroom. I hid, while he went down the
stairs. Then I ran along to the room, where I saw a gleam of
light----"
"It came from under the door," explained Kyles, "as I had lighted the
candle on hearing Gowrie muttering."
"I saw it was Bruce, and he told me all, and also mentioned that Angus
was sleeping in the next room. To save Bruce, and to get my own money,
I determined to get Angus hanged for the crime, so I did what Bruce
said. Papa had left the money to Angus, as he told Bruce, and Bruce
told me, so I thought that if Angus was hanged the money would come
back to me. And if you were to die now," added Maud tigerishly, "I
should have my fortune again, and then my own Bruce would marry me."
Before Herries could exclaim on the iniquity of his cousin's conduct,
there was a sudden shouting overhead. Kyles started and listened. Down
the stairs rushed an excited man--he was one of the engineers--who
cried out that the police were on board.
"The police," cried Herries, astonished.
"The police," echoed Kyles wrathfully. "Did you betray me, Herries?"
"No. I swear that I----"
"I told Trent to come," cried Ritson, much excited, "as I want the
murderer arrested, and----"
Before he could say anything further, Mrs. Narby was at his throat.
"You 'ang my son," she shrieked, "I'll choke y' furst. Guy up thet
confession. Pope, come an' elp me."
But Pope, terrified out of his life at his danger, ran up the cabin
stairs in the vain endeavour to escape, and so fell into the arms of
Trent himself. Ritson, shaking off the old woman, ran up also, and
shouted out to Trent to hold the murderer. Kyles followed, and there
was a general rush. The night was clear with moonlight, and the deck
was filled with the sailors of the yacht. Trent, with a couple of
policemen, was on board, and in the boats longside were many others
who were being kept from getting on deck by some of the crew.
"I arrest everyone on board this ship," cried Trent loudly, "in the
name of the King----"
"I don't care for King or Kaiser," shouted Kyles, in his turn, "you
get away and leave that man."
"No, no," cried the lawyer. "Hold him tightly, Trent. He killed Sir
Simon. I have the confession in my pocket. And the Captain here is an
accessory after the fact."
"Arrest him," said Trent, pointing to Kyles.
A policeman advanced and was knocked down. This was the signal for a
general fight. Trent held on to Pope Narby like grim death and the
miserable creature was whimpering like a soul in pain. The other
policemen in the boat managed to get on deck, and one who remained
behind sent off a green rocket, as a sign that assistance was
required. Apparently Trent, expecting some fighting, had laid his
plans excellently. On the moonlit deck a mass of men struggled and
strained, with much noise and clamour. Mrs. Narby fought tooth and
nail for her son, but he was down under the feet of the Inspector, who
stood over him with a levelled revolver. Kyles blew his bo'sn's
whistle, and more and more sailors came tumbling up from below, dark,
fierce-looking fellows they were, who cared for nothing. The police
were overpowered gradually, but already more boats were putting off
from the shore, and there was every chance that Kyles would have to
yield. He shouted down to the engine room, and gave the signal to
"stand by."
Trent dragged his prisoner to the side and dropped him into the boat,
while Mrs. Narby clung to him, biting and scratching. Indeed, but for
the assistance of Ritson, she would have succeeded in getting her son
free. What with the yelling and swearing and struggling, the deck was
like a pandemonium. Having secured at least one prisoner, and seeing
that there was danger of bloodshed, Trent cried to his men to regain
the boat. At the same time the yacht began to move, and Kyles, on the
bridge, was pulling at the whistle, which shrieked shrilly. Herries,
not wishing to be carried away, for the policemen were tumbling into
their boat, rushed to the side, where his own boatmen were. He saw the
boat, and shouted. Just as he did so, and was leaning over at a
dangerous angle, he was pushed violently from behind, and had just a
glimpse of Maud's malignant face as she thrust him to his death.
"The money's mine--mine," she cried, clapping her hands.
"And Bruce is mine," said Señora Guzman in her ear, and sent Maud
Tedder overboard after her victim.