THE RESCUE.
So startled was I by this revelation that I jumped to my feet in a
state of uncontrollable agitation. What I should have done I cannot
say, but the direction of events was not left in my hands.
Simultaneously with my movement of astonishment, a piercing scream
rang through the house.
I was standing now by the chair in which Mr. Kenneth Dowsett was
sitting in his trance, and I observed a change pass over his face; the
scream had pierced the veil in which his waking senses were
enshrouded. Devlin also observed this change, and he said to me
hurriedly:
"Go up-stairs and see what is taking place. Your presence may be
needed there, and to one person may be very welcome. I will keep
charge over this man."
As I left the room I heard Devlin turn the key in the lock. Rapidly I
mounted the stairs, and dashed into a room on the first landing, from
which the sound of female voices were issuing. Three women were there;
two were strangers to me, but even in that agitating moment I
correctly divined that they were Mrs. Dowsett and Letitia; the third,
who rushed with convulsive sobs into my open arms, was no other than
Lizzie Melladew herself.
"O, thank God, you have come!" she sobbed; "thank God! thank God!
Where is Mary? Where is Richard? Take me to them! O, take me to them!"
Mrs. Dowsett was the first to recover herself. "You will remain here,"
she said sternly to Lizzie; and then, addressing me, "How dare you
break into my apartment in this manner?"
"I dare do more than that," I replied, in a voice sterner than her
own, and holding the weeping girl close to my heart. "Prepare you to
answer for what has been done. I thank God, indeed, that I have
arrived in time, perhaps, to prevent another crime. All is
discovered."
At these words Mrs. Dowsett shrank back, white and trembling. I did
not stop to say more. My first duty was to place Lizzie Melladew in
safety; but where? The mental question conveyed its own answer. Where,
but in her lover's arms?
"Come," I said to Lizzie. "You are safe now. I am going to take you to
Richard Carton. Trust yourself to me."
"I will, I will!" sobbed Lizzie, "Richard is here, then? How thankful
I am, how thankful! And Mary, my dear sister, is she here, too?"
I was appalled at this last question. It proved that Lizzie was
ignorant of what had occurred. Not daring to answer her, I drew her
from the room, and the women I left there made no attempt to prevent
me. Swiftly I took my precious charge from the house, and in a very
few minutes we were in the carriage which was waiting for me at the
foot of the Rue de la Paix. The driver understood the direction I gave
him, and we galloped at full speed to the Hotel de Poilly. Without
revealing to Lizzie what I knew, I learnt from her before we reached
the hotel sufficient to enlighten me as to Mr. Kenneth Dowsett's
proceedings, and to confirm my suspicion that it was Mary Melladew who
had met her death at that villain's hands. When Lizzie received the
anonymous letter which he wrote to her, she took it to her poor
sister, who, fearing some plot, prevailed upon her to let her see the
anonymous writer in Lizzie's place; and, the better to carry out the
plan, the sisters changed dresses, and went together to Victoria Park.
Being twins, and bearing so close a resemblance to each other, there
was little fear of the change being discovered until at least Mary had
ascertained why the meeting was so urgently desired. Leaving Lizzie in
a secluded part of the park, Mary proceeded to the rendezvous, with
what result Mr. Dowsett's confession has already made clear.
Discovering the fatal error he had committed, Mr. Dowsett returned to
Lizzie, who, while waiting for her sister, had fallen asleep. Being
thoroughly unnerved, he decided that there was only one means of
safety before him--flight and the concealment of Lizzie Melladew. The
idea of a second murder may have occurred to him, but, villain as he
was, he had not the courage to carry it out. He had taken from the
dead girl's pocket everything it contained, with the exception of a
handkerchief which, in his haste, he overlooked; and upon this
handkerchief was marked the name of Lizzie Melladew. He could imitate
Richard Carton's writing--as was proved by the forgeries he had
already committed--and upon the back of this anonymous letter he wrote
in pencil a few words in which Lizzie was implored to trust herself
implicitly to Mr. Dowsett, and without question to do as he directed.
Signing these words in Richard Carton's name, he awoke Lizzie and gave
her the note. Alarmed and agitated as the young girl was, and fearing
that some great danger threatened her lover, she, with very little
hesitation, allowed herself to be persuaded by Mr. Dowsett, and
accompanied him home. "Where is Mary?" she asked. "With our dear
Richard," replied Mr. Dowsett; "we shall see them to-morrow, when all
will be explained." At home Mr. Dowsett informed his wife of his
peril, and the three females left for Margate by an early train in the
morning. In Margate Mrs. Dowsett received telegrams signed "Richard
Carton," but really sent by her husband, which she showed to Lizzie,
and which served in some measure to assist the successful continuation
of the scheme by which Lizzie was to be taken out of the country.
Meanwhile she was in absolute ignorance of her sister's fate; no
newspaper was allowed to reach her hands, nor was she allowed to speak
to a soul but Mrs. Dowsett and Letitia. What was eventually to be done
with her I cannot say; probably Mr. Dowsett himself had not been able
to make up his mind, which was almost entirely occupied by
considerations for his own safety.
I did not, of course, learn all this from Lizzie, she being then
ignorant of much which I have related, but I have put together what
she told me and what I subsequently learnt from Devlin and other
sources.
Arriving at the Hotel de Poilly, I succeeded in conveying Lizzie into
a private room, and then I sought Richard Carton. I need not set down
here in detail the conversation I had with him. Little by little I
made him acquainted with the whole truth. Needless to describe his joy
when he heard that his beloved girl was alive and safe--joy, tempered
with grief at poor Mary's fate. When he was calm enough to be
practical, he asked me what was to be done.
"No time must be lost," I said, "in restoring your dear Lizzie to her
parents. To you I shall confide her. Leave that monster, your
treacherous guardian, to Devlin and me."
It was with difficulty I restrained him from rushing to Lizzie, but I
insisted that his movements must be definitely decided upon before he
saw her. I called in the assistance of the jolly landlady, and she
supplied me with a time-table, from which I ascertained that a boat
for Dover left at 12.31, and that it was timed to reach its
destination at 3.20. There were numerous trains from Dover to London,
and Lizzie would be in her parents' arms before night. Carton joyfully
acquiesced in this arrangement, and then I took him in to his dear
girl, and, closing the door upon them, left them to themselves. A
meeting such as theirs, and under such circumstances, was sacred.
While they were together I wrote two letters--one to my wife, and the
other to Mr. Portland--which I intended should be delivered by Carton.
I did not intrude upon the happy lovers till the last moment. I found
them sitting close together, quite silent, hand clasped in hand, her
head upon his breast. I had cautioned him to say nothing of Mary's sad
fate, and I saw by the expression upon Lizzie's face that he had
obeyed me. After joy would come sorrow; there was time enough for
that. Mary had given her life for her sister's; the sacrifice would
ever be held in sacred remembrance.
I saw them off by the boat; they waved their handkerchiefs to me, and
I thought of the Melladews mourning at home, to whom, at least, one
dear child would soon be restored. When the boat was out of sight, I
jumped into the carriage, and was driven back to the Rue de la Paix.