DEVLIN'S LAST SCHEME.
I tried the door of the room in which I had left Devlin and Mr.
Kenneth Dowsett. It was locked.
"Enter," said Devlin, unlocking the door.
They were both in the room, Devlin smiling and unruffled, Mr. Dowsett
in the full possession of his senses, and terribly ill at ease.
He turned like death when he saw me.
"This gentleman," said Devlin, "is angry at being detained by me, and
would have resorted to violence if he thought it would serve his
purpose. I have waited for your return to decide what to do."
"You shall pay for this," Mr. Dowsett managed to say, "you and your
confederate. If there is justice in this world, I will make you smart
for your unlawful proceedings."
"There _is_ justice in the world," I said calmly, "as you shall find."
He was silent. With a weight of guilt upon his soul, he did not know
how to reply to this remark. But he managed presently to ask:
"How long do you intend to detain me?"
"You shall know soon," I said; and, by a gesture, I intimated to
Devlin that I wished to confer with him alone.
He accompanied me from the room, and we stood in the passage, keeping
guard upon the door, which Devlin locked from the outside.
"There are no means of escape from within," he said. "I have seen to
that."
In a low tone I told him what I had done, and he approved.
"The question now is," I said, "what step are we next to take?"
"There lies the difficulty," replied Devlin. "You see my dear sir, we
have no evidence upon which to arrest him."
"No evidence!" I cried. "Is there not his own confession of guilt?"
Devlin shook his head. "Spiritual evidence only, my dear sir. Not
admissible in any court of law in the world. Impossible to obtain his
arrest in a foreign country upon such a slender thread. He might bring
the same accusation against us, and we might all be thrown into gaol,
and kept there for months. That is not what I bargained for. Our best
plan will be to get him back to England; then you can take some
practicable step."
"But how to manage that?" I asked.
"It can be managed, I think," said Devlin. "I have a scheme. He knows
nothing of the confession he has made. Lizzie Melladew's name has not
been mentioned between us. It is only his fears and my strength of
will that make him tractable. Before I put my scheme into operation,
go up-stairs to see if his wife and daughter are in the house. I have
my suspicions that they have flown. You will find me here when you
come down."
I ran up-stairs to the apartments occupied by Mrs. Dowsett. Devlin's
suspicions were confirmed. The two women were gone. There were
evidences around of a hasty flight, the most pregnant of them being a
small box which had been broken open. I judged immediately that this
was the box which had contained the two thousand sovereigns; and,
indeed, I found two of the sovereigns under a couch, whither they had
rolled while the bulk was being taken out. The conclusion I came to
was, that the women, frightened that all was discovered, as I had
informed them, had broken open the box, and, packing the gold away
upon their persons, had taken to flight, leaving Mr. Dowsett to his
fate.
I went down to Devlin, and acquainted him with the result of my
investigation.
"Quite as I expected," he said. "Let them go for the present. Our
concern is with the man inside. I am going to put my scheme into
operation. What is the time?"
"Five minutes past two," I replied, looking at my watch.
"In capital time," said Devlin. "Wait you here until half-past two.
Then go in to Mr. Dowsett, and apologise to him for the indignity to
which he has been subjected. He will fume and threaten; let him. Be
you humble and contrite, and say that you are very, very sorry. Throw
all the blame upon me: say that I have deceived you, imposed upon you,
robbed you--anything that comes to your mind. To me it matters not; it
will assist our scheme. There is no fear of Mr. Dowsett not waiting
till you go in to him; he is frightened out of his life. Your humble
attitude will give him courage; he will think himself safe."
"I cannot imagine," I said, "how this will help us."
"Don't imagine," said Devlin curtly. "Leave all to me. The first thing
Mr. Dowsett will do when he finds himself free will be to go up to the
rooms in which he left the three women who accompanied him here.
Meanwhile, you will keep watch outside the house; but on no account
must he see you. Trust to me for the rest."
He had served me so faithfully up to this point that I trusted him
unhesitatingly. As he had prophesied, Mr. Dowsett kept quiet within
the room. Listening at the door, I heard him moving softly about, but
he made no attempt to come out. At half-past two I entered the room,
and followed Devlin's instructions to the letter. Mr. Dowsett, his
courage restored, immediately began to bluster and threaten. I
listened submissively, and made pretence of being greatly distressed.
When he had exhausted himself, I left him with further profuse
expressions of regret, and as I issued from the house I saw him
mounting the stairs to his wife's apartments.
Emerging into the Rue de la Paix, I planted myself in a spot from
which I had a clear view of the house, and was myself concealed from
observation. Scarcely was I settled in my position when I saw a man,
with a telegram in his hand, enter the house. He remained there a very
few moments, and then came out and walked away, having, presumably,
delivered his message. Within a space of five minutes, Mr. Dowsett,
holding the telegram, came forth, and, casting sharp glances around,
quickly left the Rue de la Paix. Before he had turned the corner,
Devlin joined me, humming a French song. Together we followed Mr.
Dowsett at a safe distance.
"My scheme is alive," he said.
I asked him to explain it to me.
"You saw the messenger," he said, "enter with a telegram. You saw him
leave without it. You saw Mr. Dowsett come out with the telegram. It
was from his wife."
"From his wife?"
"Sent by me. The telegram was to the effect that something had
occurred which had induced her to leave Boulogne immediately, and that
she, her daughter, and the young lady with them (I was careful not to
mention her name, you see) would be in Ramsgate, waiting for him. He
was to come by the afternoon boat, and she would meet him on the pier.
See, he is entering the shipping-office now, to secure his passage."
"What are we to do?"
"We travel in the same boat, going aboard at the last moment. After
the boat has started--not before--he will know that we are
fellow-passengers."
All happened as Devlin had arranged. By his skilful pioneering we did
not lose sight of Mr. Dowsett until he stepped aboard the boat, and I
inferred from his manner that by that time he had regained confidence,
and deemed his secret safe. When we slipped on deck, at the very
moment of starting, Mr. Dowsett was below in the saloon.
There were not many passengers, and the French coast was still in view
when Mr. Dowsett came up from the saloon and stood by the bulwarks,
within a yard or two of the seat upon which we were sitting. We did
not speak, but sat watching him. Turning, he saw us.
"You here!" he cried.
"By your leave," I replied.
"Not by my leave," he said. "Why are you following me?"
"Have you any reason," I said, "for suspecting that you are being
followed?"
"I was a fool to ask the question," he said, turning abruptly away.
I did not speak, but kept my eyes upon him. I was determined not to
lose sight of him for another moment. Some understanding of this
determination seemed to dawn upon him; he looked at me two or three
times with wavering eyes, and presently, summoning all his courage to
his aid, he stared me full in the face. I met his gaze sternly,
unflinchingly, until I compelled him to lower his eyes. Then he
suddenly went down into the saloon. I stepped swiftly after him, and
Devlin accompanied me. For the purpose of testing me, he turned and
ascended again to the deck. We followed him.
"Perhaps," he said, "you will explain what you mean by this conduct?"
"What need to ask?" I replied. "Let your conscience answer."
"It is an outrage," he said, after a pause. "If you continue to annoy
me, I shall appeal to the captain."
"Do so," I said, "and prepare to meet at once the charge I shall bring
against you."
He did not dare to inquire the nature of the charge. He did not dare
to move or speak again. Sullenly, and with an inward raging, the
traces of which he could not disguise, he remained by the bulwarks,
staring down at the water.
Suddenly there was a lull aboard. The machinery stopped working.
"Some accident," said Devlin, and went to ascertain its nature.
Returning, he said, "We shall be delayed a couple of hours, most
likely. It will be dark night, when we arrive."
It was as he said. For two hours or more we made no progress; then,
the necessary repairs having been made, we started again. By that time
it was evening. And still Mr. Dowsett neither moved or spoke.
Night crept on; there was no moon, and not a star visible in the dark
sky; it was black night. Mr. Dowsett strove to take advantage of this
to evade and escape from us, but we kept so close to him that we could
have touched him by the movement of a finger; where he glided, we
glided; and still he uttered not a word.
We stood in a group alone, isolated as it were, from the other
passengers. After repeated attempts to slip from us, Mr. Dowsett
remained still again. In the midst of the darkness Devlin's voice
stole upon our ears.
"Short-sighted fool," he said, "to think that crime can be for ever
successfully hidden. Wherever man moves, the spirit of committed evil
accompanies him, and leads him to his doom. His peril lies not only in
mortal insight, but in the unseen, mysterious agencies, by which he is
surrounded. Blood for blood; it is the immutable law; and if by some
human failure he for a time evades his punishment at the hand of man,
he suffers a punishment more terrible than human justice can execute
upon him. Waking or sleeping, it is ever with him. Look out upon the
darkness, and behold, rising from the shadows, the form of the
innocent girl whose life you took. To the last moment of your life her
spirit shall accompany you; till death claims you, you shall know no
peace!"
Whatever of malignancy there was in Devlin's voice, the words he spoke
conveyed the stern, eternal truth. It seemed to me, as I gazed before
me, that the spirit he evoked loomed sadly among the shadows.
Onward through the sea the boat ploughed its way, and we three stood
close together, encompassed by a dread and awful silence; for Devlin
spoke no more, nor from Mr. Dowsett's lips did any sound issue.
In the distance we saw the lights of Ramsgate Pier, and before the
captain or any person on board was aware of its close contiguity, we
suddenly dashed against it.
I and all others on board were thrown violently down by the shock.
There were loud cries of alarm and agony, and I found myself separated
from my companions. From the water came appeals for help from some who
had been tossed overboard by the collision, and a period of great
confusion ensued. What help could be given was afforded, and when I
succeeded in reaching the stone pier in safety, I heard that a few of
the passengers were missing--among them Devlin and Mr. Dowsett.
I remained on the pier till past one o'clock in the morning, rendering
what little assistance I could; and eventually I learnt that all who
had been in danger were saved, with the exception of the two whom I
have named. It was early morning before the body of one was recovered.
That one was Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. He lay dead in a boat, his face
convulsed with agony, upturned to the gray light of the coming day. Of
Devlin no trace could be found.
* * * * * *
There is but little more to tell. With the exception of the part which
Devlin played in it, and which has now for the first time been
related, the story became public property, and Kenneth Dowsett was
proved to be the murderer of poor Mary Melladew. Time has softened the
grief of Mr. and Mrs. Melladew, and they find in the love of Lizzie
and her husband, Richard Carton, some solace for the tragedy which a
ruthless hand committed. Mr. Portland paid me the two thousand pounds
he promised, and I am in a fair way of business. Fanny Lemon and her
husband live in retirement in the country. Not a word ever passes
their lips in connection with the events I have related. I have seen
and heard nothing of Mrs. Dowsett and her daughter.
* * * * * *
A short time ago my wife and I were in an open-air public place of
amusement witnessing a wonderful exhibition, the extraordinary novelty
of which consisted in a man floating earthwards from the clouds at a
distance of some thousands of feet from the earth.
"Look there!" said my wife.
I had given her such faithful and vivid descriptions of Devlin that
she always said, if it happened that he still lived and she saw him,
that she could not fail to recognise him. I turned in the direction
she indicated, and, standing alone, apart from the crowd, once more
saw Devlin. He was watching the performer floating from heaven to
earth. There was a strange smile upon his lips.
I could not restrain the impulse which prompted me to move towards
him. My approach attracted his attention. He looked at me, and was
gone. I have never seen him since.
The last words I heard him speak recur to me. There was in them the
spirit of Divine justice. Crimes cannot be for ever successfully
hidden. The monsters who commit them shall be brought to their doom by
those whose duty it is to track them down, or by unseen mysterious
agencies by which they are surrounded, or by their own confession.
But let the legislators see to it; let those who call themselves
philanthropists and humanitarians see to it; let those whose fortune
it is to possess great wealth see to it. There are in this modern
Babylon fester-spots of corruption wherein nothing but sin and vice
can possibly grow. They are crowded with human beings ripening for
evil; they are crowded with human souls lost to salvation. They are an
infamy--and the infamy rests not upon the creatures who are born and
bred there, but upon those who allow them to be, and who have the
undoubted power to cleanse them, and make them healthy for body and
soul. For generation upon generation have they been allowed to breed
corruption; to this day they are allowed to do so. All who have the
remedy in their hands are responsible. The preacher who preaches and
does not practise; the rich who can afford, but grudges to give; the
statesman with his dilettante efforts towards social improvement, and
his huge efforts towards place and power--one and all of these are
accountable for the sin. It is no less, and it rests upon them.
FOOTNOTES
[Footnote 1: I have this desk, with its contents, now in my
possession. The extraordinary revelations made therein (which I may
mention have no connection with the present story) will one day be
made public--B. L. F.]
THE END.
LONDON:
ROBSON AND SONS, LIMITED, PRINTERS, PANCRAS ROAD, N.W.