SIR CHARLES DYKE ENDS HIS NARRATIVE
"A mere suspicion, indeed!" she said, and there was that in her voice
which warned me that I had better try unarmed to control a tigress than
a wife who deemed herself wronged; "these are pretty _suspicions_ that
surround you. A house tenanted by another woman where you are evidently
master! A mistress who left the ranks of the ballet, or something of the
sort, living in luxury on means supplied by you! A married woman who
casts off her husband with her poverty, to take up a paramour and
riches! Do you think you can blind my eyes further? I have the most
convincing proofs of your infamy. Do not imagine that on any specious
pretext I will condone your conduct. I despise you from the depths of my
heart. Henceforth I will strive to forget your very existence."
"Alice," I said, and if she had not been blinded by passion she must
have been affected by my earnestness, "will you listen to me?"
"Why should I? What respect have you shown to me that I should now seem
even to accept your excuses?"
"I appeal to you not to do anything in anger. You have good reason to be
enraged with me. I only ask you to suspend your final judgment. Hear
what I have to say, take time for deliberation, for further inquiry, and
then condemn me to any punishment you think fit."
She did not answer me. Her eyes were roving round the room and taking
stock of every indication of poor Mrs. Hillmer's artistic aptitude. The
place was eminently home-like, much more so than our elegant mansion in
Portman Square, and my wife noted the fact with momentarily increasing
bitterness. Yet I essayed my desperate task with failing nerve and
terrible consciousness of a bad cause.
"Notwithstanding all that you have seen and heard," I said, "I am not
guilty of the crime you accuse me of. Mrs. Hillmer is an old friend of
mine, whom I have helped from a state of misery to one of comfort and
comparative happiness. She is as pure-minded in thought, as spotless in
character, as you are yourself. You are doing her a grievous injustice
by doubting the relations between her and me. If you only knew her--"
My wife laughed scornfully.
"Pray spare yourself, Charles. I have never seen you so interested
before, but you lie badly, nevertheless."
"I do not lie. Before heaven I am telling you the truth."
"You are even willing to perjure yourself, _Colonel Montgomery_?"
My poor armor was ill-fitted for this stroke. I suppose I must have
flinched before it, for she went on:
"You see I am well posted. My detectives have done their work well. Oh,
Heaven, that I should ever have learned to love a vile wretch like you.
I thought you respected me, at least. I tried hard to bend my own wishes
to sympathy with yours, and I dreamt even of ultimate success. I knew
you didn't care much for me, but the devotion of a slave has at times
been rewarded by the affection of her master. Fortunately, I am a slave
by choice. It only required experience to break my bonds, and you have
supplied the experience."
For the first time in my life did it dawn on me that my self-contained
and haughty wife harbored other thoughts than a sentiment of respect for
an indulgent and easily controlled husband. It was a shock to me, a
deeper humiliation than she dreamed of. How could I expiate the past,
wipe out this record of error and folly, but not of ill-doing, and live
happily with her so long as Providence was pleased to spare us? While
these things ran through my brain she suddenly turned on me.
"You fear exposure in the law courts! You dread your name figuring in a
society scandal! How little you know me. You naturally compare me by
your own contemptible standard. I left your house to-night determined
never to return to it should I find you here, as in all probability, I
was told, would be the case. I will go to my sister until I have
determined upon my future life. You, at least, will never, by my desire,
see or hear from me again. Thus far, I presume, I will fall in with your
views."
She would have passed me, but I held fast to the inside of the door. If
once she got away from me I might never be able to set affairs even
tolerably right. Better, I deemed, have one trying scene in the hope
that she would calm down in the face of facts, than allow her to carry
the quarrel to her relatives and strengthen her attitude by their
natural support.
"Alice," I said, "you shall not go."
"How can you dare to detain me?" she shrieked, and the glint in her eyes
showed how thoroughly her passions were aroused.
"You can separate from me if you will. I shall not venture to hinder
you. But I swear you shall not do this rash act without knowledge. I
tell you you must remain here. When you leave this house you do so in my
company."
"And why am I to be kept a prisoner?"
"Mrs. Hillmer will return in less than an hour. You have sought this
meeting yourself. Very well. You shall have it. When your charges have
been thoroughly thrashed out in the presence of Mrs. Hillmer and myself
I will then accompany you where you will, and leave you under the
protection of your sister, or any one else you choose, should you still
persist in leaving me."
Of course my action was unwise to the last degree. But remember, Claude,
that during these last awful five minutes I had seen a side of my wife's
nature hidden from me six long years. And I was a man suddenly plunged
into a raging sea, drifting helplessly I knew not whither. All that
consumed me was a wild desire for such scant justice as I deserved. I
had erred, but my faults were not those my wife alleged against me.
If she was angry before she was now absolutely uncontrollable.
"What?" she screamed. "Remain to meet your--your mistress? Never, while
I have life!"
She flung herself upon me so suddenly that she tore me away from the
door. She was a strong and athletic woman, and I suppose she expected
some resistance, for she used such force as to drag me forward into the
middle of the room, overturning a chair in the effort. I was so utterly
taken by surprise that I yielded to her violence more completely than
she expected.
She staggered, let go her hold, and fell heavily backwards, tripping
over the fallen chair. I made a desperate attempt to save her, but only
caught the end of a fur necklet, and it tore like a spider's web.
Her body crashed against a Venetian fender, and her head came with awful
force against a sort of support for the fire-irons that stood up a foot
from the ground.
Then she rolled over, her eyes and face undergoing a ghastly change, and
instantly became, as I thought, unconscious.
I knelt beside her, raising her head with my right hand, and brokenly
besought her to speak to me, when I would at once do anything she
demanded. But she gave no sign of animation. In a frenzy of despair, I
forced myself to examine her injuries, and my heart nearly stopped
beating when I discovered that a large piece of iron had been driven
into her brain through the back of her head.
I knew in a moment that she was dead. Although I have not had much
experience of that terrible epoch in the human being, I have seen far
too much of death in animal life not to know that she who had been my
honored and respected wife now lay before me a mere soulless entity--a
symbol only of the splendid vital creature who, a minute earlier, was
angrily protesting against the supposed faithlessness of her mate.
Looking back now upon the events of that fateful night, I marvel at the
appalling coolness which came to my aid as soon as I realized the extent
of the misfortune which had befallen both Alice and myself. I can fully
understand what is meant by the callousness of a certain class of
criminals, or the indifference to inevitable death betrayed by Eastern
races. No sooner was I quite assured that my wife was dead--dead beyond
hope or doubt--than I regained the use of my reasoning faculties in the
most marvellously cold-blooded degree.
The actual difficulties of my position were enormous. I arraigned myself
before the judge and jury, and saw clearly that every circumstance
which contributed to Alice's suspicions in the first instance were now
magnified a hundred-fold by the manner and scene of her death.
Before me, in ghostly panorama, moved the dread crowd of witnesses
against me, the degradation of my family, the bitter and vengeful
feelings of my wife's relatives, the suffering of poor, unconscious Mrs.
Hillmer, the whole avalanche of horror and misery which this unfortunate
accident had precipitated upon every person who claimed my relationship
or friendship.
My mental attitude was quite altruistic. Could I have undone the past, I
would cheerfully have undergone a painful and protracted death
forthwith.
But no possible atonement on my part would restore Alice to life. I knew
it was quite improbable that I should be convicted of murdering her,
strong as the circumstantial testimony against me must be. The mere
legal consequences did not, however, weigh with me for a second. From
that awful hour I felt that I was doomed personally. My only thought was
to seek oblivion, not only for myself, but for all whom Alice's death
might affect.
Reasoning in this way, I rapidly resolved to make a bold effort to
conceal forever the time and place of the fatality. If I failed, I could
tell the truth; if I succeeded, I might, at my own expense, save a vast
amount of unnecessary sorrow.
The desperate expedient came to me of carrying off the body to the
untenanted house at Putney where my old master had resided until his
death, utilizing the four-wheeled cab with its half-drunken driver for
the purpose.
If I reached Putney unhindered, I could dispose of my terrible burden
easily, for the river flowed past the grounds, and every inch of the
locality was known to me.
It occurred to me that perhaps the body might be found and recognized.
Our personal linen was never marked, by reason of the fact that our
laundry work was done upon our Yorkshire estate, but as a temporary
safeguard I resolved to take some different and less valuable outer
clothes from Mrs. Hillmer's residence.
Her maid was of a similar build to my wife, so I hastened to the girl's
room, and laid hands upon a soiled coat and skirt which were relegated
to the recesses of the wardrobe.
I glanced at my watch as I came along the corridor. It was 6.15 P.M. All
the incidents I have related to you had happened within a quarter of an
hour. Oh, heaven! it seemed longer than all the preceding years of my
life.
Having resolved upon a line of conduct, I pursued it with the
_sang-froid_ and accuracy of one of the superior scoundrels delineated
by Du Boisgobey. The door of the flat was locked. If the servants,
hardly due yet, returned unexpectedly, I would send them off to Victoria
Station on some imaginary errand of their mistress's.
I knelt beside my poor wife's body once more, and with great difficulty
took off her costume and loosely fastened on the maid's garments.
In her purse there were some bulky documents, which I afterwards
discovered to be the reports furnished by a firm of private detectives,
detailing all my movements with reference to Raleigh Mansions with
surprising accuracy. But she had concealed her name. These men
themselves only knew me as "Colonel Montgomery."
How Alice first came to suspect me I can only guess. Perhaps my
indifference, my absence from home at definite hours, a chance meeting
in the street unknown to me--any of these may have supplied the initial
cause, and led her to verify her doubts before taxing me with my
supposed iniquity.
Indeed, her final act in coming alone to Mrs. Hillmer's abode, revealed
her fearless spirit and independent methods. She wanted no divorce court
revelations. She would simply have spurned me as an unworthy and
dishonorable wretch. Her small belongings I put in my pockets; the
clothes I made into a parcel and stuffed temporarily beneath my
overcoat.
Then I unlocked the door, and went down the few steps to the main
entrance. There was no one about, the fog and sleet having cleared the
street--a quiet thoroughfare at all times.
I took the risk of the maids coming back, and I ran to the square for my
conveyance. The driver had been improving the occasion, and was more
inebriated than before. He brought his cab to the door, and I knew, by
the appearance of things, that no one had entered during my absence.
With some difficulty I lifted Alice's body into my arms in as natural a
position as possible, and carried her to the cab, leaving the door of
the flat ajar. Luck still favored me. The cabman supposed that she, like
himself, was intoxicated. A man came down the opposite side of the
street, but he paid not the slightest heed to me, and, indeed, we were
but dimly visible to each other.
Exerting all my strength unobtrusively, I placed my wife on the rear
seat, and then calmly gave the driver instructions. He grumbled at the
distance, but I told him I would pay him handsomely. Searching in my
pockets and Alice's purse, I could only find twelve shillings, so,
although it was risky, to avoid a quarrel with the man, I determined to
give him a five-pound note.
Thus far, all had gone well.
The notion possessed me that, to all intents and purposes, I had
murdered my wife, and that I was now disposing of the visible signs of
my guilt in the most approved manner of a daring criminal. Whether I did
right or wrong I cannot, even at this late hour, decide. Should my death
induce forgetfulness, I am still inclined to think that I acted for the
best. My wife was dead; I was self-condemned. Why, then, allow others,
wholly innocent, to be dragged into the vortex?
This was my line of thought. If you, reading this ghastly narrative,
shudder at my deeds, I pray you nevertheless to weigh in the balance the
good and ill that resulted from my actions.
At last we reached Putney, and drew up at the end of the disused lane
which runs down by the side of the house to the river.
Here, again, the road was deserted. I lifted my wife out, carried her to
the postern-gate, and returned to give the driver his note. The man was
so amazed at the amount that he whipped up his horse instantly, fearing
lest I should change my mind.
I was about to force open the old and rickety door into the garden when
I remembered the drain-pipe jutting into the Thames--a place where, as a
child, I often caused much alarm by surreptitious visits for the purpose
of catching minnows. I quickly took off my coat and boots, turned up my
trousers and shirt-sleeves, and examined the pipe with my hands.
It exactly suited my purpose. In half a minute I had firmly wedged my
wife's body beneath it. This was the most horrible portion of my task.
The chill water, the desolation of the river bank, the mud and trailing
weeds--all these things seemed so vile and loathsome when placed in
contact with the mortal remains of my ill-fated Alice.
She had loved me. I believe I loved her, as I assuredly do now when her
presence is but a memory, yet I was condemned to commit her to the
contaminating beastliness of such surroundings. It was a small matter,
in the face of death, but it has weighed on me since more than any other
feature of that cruel night's history.
Before leaving Putney I tied her clothes, hat, and furs to a couple of
heavy stones and threw the parcel into deep water.
By train and cab I reached home but a few minutes late for dinner. It
was not difficult for me to act my part with the servants, nor keep up
the farce during the weary days that followed. My consciousness was so
seared by what I had gone through that the mere make-believe of my
position was a relief to me.
That night, in the privacy of my room, I recollected the broken fender,
and feared lest the ironwork would supply a clue should the body be
discovered, a thing I deemed practically impossible.
But, for Mrs. Hillmer's sake, I took no risk. Next morning, before I saw
you at Tattersall's, I made arrangements for the whole contents of her
drawing-room to be transferred to her brother's flat, where, to my
knowledge, the articles were needed.
Mrs. Hillmer had gone out early, so the thing was done in her absence.
Her amazement was so great that she wired me, using as a signature the
pet name of her childhood, and this was the first message you heard the
groom refer to when he came a second time with the telegram from
Richmond.
I wrote her a hurried note, explaining that I intended the transfer as
a sop to her offended brother, but she had telegraphed again, and I had
to go to see her, to learn that Mensmore resented the gift, and had gone
off in a huff to Monte Carlo.
A little later, I took the supreme step of writing a farewell letter.
Since my wife's death I could not bear to meet any other woman. I
communed with my poor Alice more when dead than when alive.
I do not think I have anything else to tell you. Step by step I watched
you and the police tearing aside my barrier of deceit. At times I
thought I would baffle you in the end. Were it not for my folly in
bribing Jane Harding I think I must have succeeded.
That poor girl was the undoing of me in the first instance, and she now
has brought me my final sentence, for she came to-day and told me, with
tears, all that happened between the detective and herself. White, too,
put in an appearance.
To-morrow, I suppose, he will bring a warrant, if you do not see him
first and tell him the truth.
Do not misunderstand me. I am glad of this release. When you strove to
arouse me from my despair I did, for a little while, cherish the hope
that I might be able to devote my declining years to the work which
Alice herself took an interest in. But the web of testimony woven round
my old friend, Mensmore; the self-effacing spirit of his sister, who, to
shield me, was willing to sacrifice herself; the possibility that I
might involve these two, and perhaps others, in my own ruin--every
circumstance conspired to overwhelm me.
I can endure no more, my dear Bruce. It is ended. The past is already a
dream to me--the future void. My poor nature was not designed to
withstand such a strain. The cord of existence has snapped, and I
cannot bring myself to believe it will be mended again. In bidding you
farewell I ask one thing. If you take a charitable view of my deeds, if
you consider that my penalty is commensurate with my faults, then you
might take my dead hand and say, "This was my friend. I pity him. May
the spirit of his wife be merciful unto him should they meet in the
regions beyond the grave."
And so, for the last time, I sign myself
CHARLES DYKE.