satisfaction of seeing him walking rapidly beforeme muttering imprecations as he went. By his own admissions he was ablackmailer and had had no doubt a hand in Markwick's schemes, yet itoccurred to me that if judiciously approached he might possibly throwsome light upon the events of the past few months. Markwick, himself anadventurer, was not the kind of man to submit to blackmail unless hisenemy held him beneath his thumb. The scene I had witnessed provedconclusively that he went in mortal fear of this Frenchman, otherwise hewould have treated his importunities with contempt, and left in thetrain by which he apparently had intended to escape by a roundaboutroute to America. Therefore, in order to learn more of this latestdenunciation of the man whose presence always filled me with hatred andloathing, I kept close behind the angry foreigner. The Strand wascrowded with theatre-goers at that hour, but this facilitated mymovements, for according to his own statement he had had experience inParis as an officer of police, and I saw it might be somewhat difficultto follow him without attracting his attention. I had a strong desireto accost him then and there, but on reflection felt certain that itwould be best to find out where he went, and afterwards leave him to thetactful Grindlay. A single impolitic question might arrest anyrevelation that he could make; or if he found himself followed hissuspicions might be aroused, and he himself might fly ere I couldcommunicate with my friend the detective. So, exercising every caution,I carefully dogged his footsteps. It was not yet dark and I wastherefore enabled to keep him well in view, although at a respectabledistance. At the same rapid pace he passed along the Strand, up BowStreet and Endell Street to Oxford Street, which he crossed, continuingup Gower Street. When near the Euston Road he turned into a shortdismal thoroughfare bearing the name of University Street, and thereentered one of the rather dingy blackened houses by means of a latchkey. When he had disappeared I passed and repassed the house severaltimes, taking careful note of its number and of the appearance of itsexterior, then, determined to communicate as early as possible withGrindlay, I returned home and wrote him a note which I sent to ScotlandYard by Saunders.
Shortly before eleven o'clock that night a messenger brought me ahastily-scribbled note from him asking me to come round to his office atonce. I went, was ushered into his presence without delay, and relatedwhat I had witnessed at the railway station, and what I had overheard.
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "their altercation when I arrived had almost ended.I had been keeping close observation on Markwick all the afternoon, buthe had eluded me, and it was only by the merest chance that I went alongto Charing Cross to see if his intention was to decamp. So you trackeddown that wild little Frenchman, did you? Excellent. Why, you are aborn detective yourself," he added, enthusiastically. "Nothing could bebetter. Now we shall know something."
"Did Markwick elude you again?" I inquired.
He smiled. "Scarcely," he answered. "But his acquaintance with JulesDe Vries is quite unexpected, and puts an entirely different complexionon affairs."
"You know the Frenchman then?"
"Yes. He was, before his retirement last year, one of the smartest menin the Paris detective force. During eighteen months before he waspensioned he was head of the section charged with the inquiries into theanarchist outrages."
"But he was apparently endeavouring to levy blackmail!" I observed.
"Oh! there's a good deal of corruption among the French police," heanswered, laughing. "Perhaps, living retired, he is seeking to makemoney out of the secrets entrusted to him in his professional capacity.That is often the case."
Our conversation then turned upon the inquest upon the body of GilbertSternroyd, which had now been fixed, and to which I was summoned to giveevidence regarding the discovery of the body at Gloucester Square.Grindlay, in answer to my question, admitted that Jack had not yet beenarrested, but that as soon as certain inquiries then in active progresswere complete the German police would detain him for extradition.
"Then you still believe him guilty," I observed with sadness.
"Can anyone doubt it?" he asked. "I ought to say nothing about thematter, but as you are a witness I may as well tell you that ourinquiries show conclusively that your friend Bethune committed themurder, although the circumstances under which the fatal shot was firedwere of such an astounding character that I leave you to hear themofficially. It is sufficient for me to say that the murder of youngSternroyd is the strangest and most complicated crime that in the courseof my twenty-four years' experience I have ever been called upon to dealwith. But I must be off. I am due at eleven-thirty at Shepherd's Bush,so you must excuse me. We will meet again soon. Good-bye."
A moment later we parted, and I returned to my chambers.
Soon after eleven o'clock next morning Saunders entered my sitting-roomand announced a visitor. I took the card. It was Dora's!
Rushing forward I greeted her gladly, and bringing her in, enthroned herin my big arm-chair, the same in which she had sat on a previousoccasion when she had called upon me.
She was dressed simply but with taste in light grey alpaca with a largeblack hat and veil, but the face which was disclosed when the veil wasraised was pale as death, lit by two large lustrous eyes. For a momentshe regarded me with a sad, wistful expression, as if imploring me notto reproach but to pity her. Then a sad, quiet smile slowly dawned uponher countenance, and she stretched forth her hand towards me.
"Stuart," she murmured, in a low voice like the subdued wail of anaching heart. "Stuart, are you displeased with me? Are you angry thatI should come to you?"
"Displeased! Angry!" I exclaimed, quickly grasping her extended handbetween my own. "No, no! Dora. I only hope you have recovered, thatyou are now strong and well again."
"Yes. I--I feel better," she said. "But what of him--tell me. Has heyet cleared himself? At home they affect ignorance of everything--everything."
I shook my head sadly, remembering Grindlay's words. "No, alas! He hasnot cleared himself, and to-day, or at least to-morrow, he will, I fear,be arrested."
"Then it is time to act--time to act," she repeated excitedly. "Ipromised I would reveal some strange facts--facts that will amaze you--but I was prevented by illness. Now, while there is still time you willhelp me, will you not? You will come with me and see with your owneyes, hear with your own ears. Then only can you justly judge. Iconfess that long ago," she added in a low half-whisper bending towardsme, "long ago I loved you, and wondered why you never uttered words oflove to me. But now I know. I have ascertained the wretched duplicityof those about you, their evil machinations, and the purity of the onebeautiful woman whom you loved. There has been a conspiracy of silenceagainst you, rendered imperative by strange circumstances, but it shallcontinue no longer. You shall accompany me and know the truth. Come."
She rose suddenly. Obeying her I sought my hat, and together wedescended the long flight of stone stairs into the busy thoroughfarebelow.
At last the promised revelation was to be made.
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE.
THE SCENT OF VIOLETS.
In accordance with Dora's instructions I hailed a cab, and although shewould give me no inkling of our destination, she ordered the man todrive with all haste to Paddington. At the station she told me to bookto Didcot, the junction for Oxford, and about an hour later we alightedthere.
From a neighbouring inn we obtained a fly, and together drove out acrossa level stretch of country some two miles, until we passed a crumblingstone cross, and turning suddenly entered a peaceful old-world village,which I understood by her order to the driver to be East Hagbourne. Itconsisted of one long straggling street of cottages, many of themcovered with roses and honeysuckle, with here and there some good sized,quaint-gabled house, or lichen-covered, moss-grown barn, but when nearlyat the further end of the little place the man pulled up suddenly beforea large, rambling house of time-mellowed red brick, half hidden by ivyand creepers. It stood near the road with a strip of well-kept lawn infront and an iron railing, quite an inc
ongruity in those parts. When wealighted our summons was responded to by a neat maid whom Dora addressedas Ashcombe, and who at once led the way to a long, low room,oak-beamed, panelled and very comfortably furnished.
"Who lives here?" I inquired in a half whisper when the domestic hadgone, but my question was answered by the sudden appearance of itsoccupant, who next second stood silent upon the threshold, motionless,statuesque.
Astonishment held me dumb. I sprang from the chair whereon I had beenseated agape, amazed, my eyes riveted upon the figure standing silentbefore the dark portiere curtain.
Words froze on my lips; my tongue refused to articulate. Had insanity,the affliction I most dreaded, at last seized me, or was it some strangechimera, some extraordinary trick of my warped imagination? It