CHAPTER XXII
After a while Lexman resumed his story.
"I told you that there was a man at the palazzo named Salvolio. Salvoliowas a man who had been undergoing a life sentence in one of the prisonsof southern Italy. In some mysterious fashion he escaped and got acrossthe Adriatic in a small boat. How Kara found him I don't know. Salvoliowas a very uncommunicative person. I was never certain whether he wasa Greek or an Italian. All that I am sure about is that he was the mostunmitigated villain next to his master that I have ever met.
"He was a quick man with his knife and I have seen him kill one of theguards whom he had thought was favouring me in the matter of diet withless compunction than you would kill a rat.
"It was he who gave me this scar," John Lexman pointed to his cheek."In his master's absence he took upon himself the task of conductinga clumsy imitation of Kara's persecution. He gave me, too, the onlyglimpse I ever had of the torture poor Grace underwent. She hated dogs,and Kara must have come to know this and in her sleeping room--she wasapparently better accommodated than I--he kept four fierce beasts sochained that they could almost reach her.
"Some reference to my wife from this low brute maddened me beyondendurance and I sprang at him. He whipped out his knife and struck atme as I fell and I escaped by a miracle. He evidently had orders not totouch me, for he was in a great panic of mind, as he had reason to be,because on Kara's return he discovered the state of my face, startedan enquiry and had Salvolio taken to the courtyard in the true easternstyle and bastinadoed until his feet were pulp.
"You may be sure the man hated me with a malignity which almost rivalledhis employer's. After Grace's death Kara went away suddenly and I wasleft to the tender mercy of this man. Evidently he had been given afairly free hand. The principal object of Kara's hate being dead,he took little further interest in me, or else wearied of his hobby.Salvolio began his persecutions by reducing my diet. Fortunately I atevery little. Nevertheless the supplies began to grow less and less, andI was beginning to feel the effects of this starvation system when therehappened a thing which changed the whole course of my life and opened tome a way to freedom and to vengeance.
"Salvolio did not imitate the austerity of his master and in Kara'sabsence was in the habit of having little orgies of his own. He wouldbring up dancing girls from Durazzo for his amusement and inviteprominent men in the neighbourhood to his feasts and entertainments, forhe was absolutely lord of the palazzo when Kara was away and could dopretty well as he liked. On this particular night the festivities hadbeen more than usually prolonged, for as near as I could judge by theday-light which was creeping in through my window it was about fouro'clock in the morning when the big steel-sheeted door was opened andSalvolio came in, more than a little drunk. He brought with him, as Ijudged, one of his dancing girls, who apparently was privileged to seethe sights of the palace.
"For a long time he stood in the doorway talking incoherently in alanguage which I think must have been Turkish, for I caught one or twowords.
"Whoever the girl was, she seemed a little frightened, I could see that,because she shrank back from him though his arm was about her shouldersand he was half supporting his weight upon her. There was fear, not onlyin the curious little glances she shot at me from time to time, but alsoin the averted face. Her story I was to learn. She was not of the classfrom whence Salvolio found the dancers who from time to time came up tothe palace for his amusement and the amusement of his guests. She wasthe daughter of a Turkish merchant of Scutari who had been received intothe Catholic Church.
"Her father had gone down to Durazzo during the first Balkan war andthen Salvolio had seen the girl unknown to her parent, and there hadbeen some rough kind of courtship which ended in her running away onthis very day and joining her ill-favoured lover at the palazzo. I tellyou this because the fact had some bearing on my own fate.
"As I say, the girl was frightened and made as though to go from thedungeon. She was probably scared both by the unkempt prisoner and by thedrunken man at her side. He, however, could not leave without showing toher something of his authority. He came lurching over near where I lay,his long knife balanced in his hand ready for emergencies, and brokeinto a string of vituperations of the character to which I was quitehardened.
"Then he took a flying kick at me and got home in my ribs, but again Iexperienced neither a sense of indignity nor any great hurt. Salvoliohad treated me like this before and I had survived it. In the midst ofthe tirade, looking past him, I was a new witness to an extraordinaryscene.
"The girl stood in the open doorway, shrinking back against the door,looking with distress and pity at the spectacle which Salvolio'sbrutality afforded. Then suddenly there appeared beside her a tall Turk.He was grey-bearded and forbidding. She looked round and saw him, andher mouth opened to utter a cry, but with a gesture he silenced her andpointed to the darkness outside.
"Without a word she cringed past him, her sandalled feet making nonoise. All this time Salvolio was continuing his stream of abuse, but hemust have seen the wonder in my eyes for he stopped and turned.
"The old Turk took one stride forward, encircled his body with his leftarm, and there they stood grotesquely like a couple who were going tostart to waltz. The Turk was a head taller than Salvolio and, as I couldsee, a man of immense strength.
"They looked at one another, face to face, Salvolio rapidly recoveringhis senses... and then the Turk gave him a gentle punch in the ribs.That is what it seemed like to me, but Salvolio coughed horribly, wentlimp in the other's arms and dropped with a thud to the ground. The Turkleant down soberly and wiped his long knife on the other's jacket beforehe put it back in the sash at his waist.
"Then with a glance at me he turned to go, but stopped at the door andlooked back thoughtfully. He said something in Turkish which I could notunderstand, then he spoke in French.
"'Who are you?' he asked.
"In as few words as possible I explained. He came over and looked at themanacle about my leg and shook his head.
"'You will never be able to get that undone,' he said.
"He caught hold of the chain, which was a fairly long one, bound ittwice round his arm and steadying his arm across his thigh, he turnedwith a sudden jerk. There was a smart 'snap' as the chain parted. Hecaught me by the shoulder and pulled me to my feet. 'Put the chainabout your waist, Effendi,' he said, and he took a revolver from hisbelt and handed it to me.
"'You may need this before we get back to Durazzo,' he said. His beltwas literally bristling with weapons--I saw three revolvers beside theone I possessed--and he had, evidently come prepared for trouble. Wemade our way from the dungeon into the clean-smelling world without.
"It was the second time I had been in the open air for eighteen monthsand my knees were trembling under me with weakness and excitement. Theold man shut the prison door behind us and walked on until we came up tothe girl waiting for us by the lakeside. She was weeping softly and hespoke to her a few words in a low voice and her weeping ceased.
"'This daughter of mine will show us the way,' he said, 'I do not knowthis part of the country--she knows it too well.'
"To cut a long story short," said Lexman, "we reached Durazzo in theafternoon. There was no attempt made to follow us up and neither myabsence nor the body of Salvolio were discovered until late in theafternoon. You must remember that nobody but Salvolio was allowedinto my prison and therefore nobody had the courage to make anyinvestigations.
"The old man got me to his house without being observed, and brought abrother-in-law or some relative of his to remove the anklet. The name ofmy host was Hussein Effendi.
"That same night we left with a little caravan to visit some of the oldman's relatives. He was not certain what would be the consequence ofhis act, and for safety's sake took this trip, which would enable himif need be to seek sanctuary with some of the wilder Turkish tribes, whowould give him protection.
"In that three months I saw Albania as it is--it was an experienc
e neverto be forgotten!
"If there is a better man in God's world than Hiabam Hussein Effendi,I have yet to meet him. It was he who provided me with money to leaveAlbania. I begged from him, too, the knife with which he had killedSalvolio. He had discovered that Kara was in England and told mesomething of the Greek's occupation which I had not known before. Icrossed to Italy and went on to Milan. There it was that I learnt thatan eccentric Englishman who had arrived a few days previously on one ofthe South American boats at Genoa, was in my hotel desperately ill.
"My hotel I need hardly tell you was not a very expensive one and wewere evidently the only two Englishmen in the place. I could do no lessthan go up and see what I could do for the poor fellow who was prettywell gone when I saw him. I seemed to remember having seen him beforeand when looking round for some identification I discovered his name Ireadily recalled the circumstance.
"It was George Gathercole, who had returned from South America. He wassuffering from malarial fever and blood poisoning and for a week, withan Italian doctor, I fought as hard as any man could fight for hislife. He was a trying patient," John Lexman smiled suddenly at therecollection, "vitriolic in his language, impatient and imperious in hisattitude to his friends. He was, for example, terribly sensitive abouthis lost arm and would not allow either the doctor or my-self to enterthe room until he was covered to the neck, nor would he eat or drink inour presence. Yet he was the bravest of the brave, careless of himselfand only fretful because he had not time to finish his new book. Hisindomitable spirit did not save him. He died on the 17th of January ofthis year. I was in Genoa at the time, having gone there at his requestto save his belongings. When I returned he had been buried. I wentthrough his papers and it was then that I conceived my idea of how Imight approach Kara.
"I found a letter from the Greek, which had been addressed to BuenosAyres, to await arrival, and then I remembered in a flash, how Kara hadtold me he had sent George Gathercole to South America to report uponpossible gold formations. I was determined to kill Kara, and determinedto kill him in such a way that I myself would cover every trace of mycomplicity.
"Even as he had planned my downfall, scheming every step and coveringhis trail, so did I plan to bring about his death that no suspicionshould fall on me.
"I knew his house. I knew something of his habits. I knew the fear inwhich he went when he was in England and away from the feudal guards whohad surrounded him in Albania. I knew of his famous door with its steellatch and I was planning to circumvent all these precautions and bringto him not only the death he deserved, but a full knowledge of his fatebefore he died.
"Gathercole had some money,--about 140 pounds--I took 100 pounds ofthis for my own use, knowing that I should have sufficient in Londonto recompense his heirs, and the remainder of the money with all suchdocuments as he had, save those which identified him with Kara, I handedover to the British Consul.
"I was not unlike the dead man. My beard had grown wild and I knewenough of Gathercole's eccentricities to live the part. The first stepI took was to announce my arrival by inference. I am a fairly goodjournalist with a wide general knowledge and with this, corrected byreference to the necessary books which I found in the British Museumlibrary, I was able to turn out a very respectable article on Patagonia.
"This I sent to The Times with one of Gathercole's cards and, as youknow, it was printed. My next step was to find suitable lodgings betweenChelsea and Scotland Yard. I was fortunate in being able to hire afurnished flat, the owner of which was going to the south of France forthree months. I paid the rent in advance and since I dropped all theeccentricities I had assumed to support the character of Gathercole, Imust have impressed the owner, who took me without references.
"I had several suits of new clothes made, not in London," he smiled,"but in Manchester, and again I made myself as trim as possible to avoidafter-identification. When I had got these together in my flat, Ichose my day. In the morning I sent two trunks with most of my personalbelongings to the Great Midland Hotel.
"In the afternoon I went to Cadogan Square and hung about until I sawKara drive off. It was my first view of him since I had left Albania andit required all my self-control to prevent me springing at him in thestreet and tearing at him with my hands.
"Once he was out of sight I went to the house adopting all the style andall the mannerisms of poor Gathercole. My beginning was unfortunate for,with a shock, I recognised in the valet a fellow-convict who hadbeen with me in the warder's cottage on the morning of my escape fromDartmoor. There was no mistaking him, and when I heard his voice I wascertain. Would he recognise me I wondered, in spite of my beard and myeye-glasses?
"Apparently he did not. I gave him every chance. I thrust my face intohis and on my second visit challenged him, in the eccentric way whichpoor old Gathercole had, to test the grey of my beard. For the momenthowever, I was satisfied with my brief experiment and after a reasonableinterval I went away, returning to my place off Victoria Street andwaiting till the evening.
"In my observation of the house, whilst I was waiting for Kara todepart, I had noticed that there were two distinct telephone wiresrunning down to the roof. I guessed, rather than knew, that one of thesetelephones was a private wire and, knowing something of Kara's fear, Ipresumed that that wire would lead to a police office, or at any rateto a guardian of some kind or other. Kara had the same arrangement inAlbania, connecting the palazzo with the gendarme posts at Alesso. Thismuch Hussein told me.
"That night I made a reconnaissance of the house and saw Kara's windowwas lit and at ten minutes past ten I rang the bell and I think it wasthen that I applied the test of the beard. Kara was in his room, thevalet told me, and led the way upstairs. I had come prepared to dealwith this valet for I had an especial reason for wishing that he shouldnot be interrogated by the police. On a plain card I had written thenumber he bore in Dartmoor and had added the words, 'I know you, get outof here quick.'
"As he turned to lead the way upstairs I flung the envelope containingthe card on the table in the hall. In an inside pocket, as near to mybody as I could put them, I had the two candles. How I should use themboth I had already decided. The valet ushered me into Kara's room andonce more I stood in the presence of the man who had killed my girl andblotted out all that was beautiful in life for me."
There was a breathless silence when he paused. T. X. leaned back in hischair, his head upon his breast, his arms folded, his eyes watching theother intently.
The Chief Commissioner, with a heavy frown and pursed lips, sat strokinghis moustache and looking under his shaggy eyebrows at the speaker. TheFrench police officer, his hands thrust deep in his pockets, his headon one side, was taking in every word eagerly. The sallow-faced Russian,impassive of face, might have been a carved ivory mask. O'Grady,the American, the stump of a dead cigar between his teeth, shiftedimpatiently with every pause as though he would hurry forward thedenouement.
Presently John Lexman went on.
"He slipped from the bed and came across to meet me as I closed the doorbehind me.
"'Ah, Mr. Gathercole,' he said, in that silky tone of his, and held outhis hand.
"I did not speak. I just looked at him with a sort of fierce joy in myheart the like of which I had never before experienced.
"'And then he saw in my eyes the truth and half reached for thetelephone.
"But at that moment I was on him. He was a child in my hands. All thebitter anguish he had brought upon me, all the hardships of starved daysand freezing nights had strengthened and hardened me. I had come back toLondon disguised with a false arm and this I shook free. It was merely agauntlet of thin wood which I had had made for me in Paris.
"I flung him back on the bed and half knelt, half laid on him.
"'Kara,' I said, 'you are going to die, a more merciful death than mywife died.'
"He tried to speak. His soft hands gesticulated wildly, but I was halflying on one arm and held the other.
"I whispered in his ear:
/> "'Nobody will know who killed you, Kara, think of that! I shall go scotfree--and you will be the centre of a fine mystery! All your letterswill be read, all your life will be examined and the world will know youfor what you are!'
"I released his arm for just as long as it took to draw my knife andstrike. I think he died instantly," John Lexman said simply.
"I left him where he was and went to the door. I had not much time tospare. I took the candles from my pocket. They were already ductile fromthe heat of my body.
"I lifted up the steel latch of the door and propped up the latch withthe smaller of the two candles, one end of which was on the middlesocket and the other beneath the latch. The heat of the room I knewwould still further soften the candle and let the latch down in a shorttime.
"I was prepared for the telephone by his bedside though I did notknow to whither it led. The presence of the paper-knife decided me. Ibalanced it across the silver cigarette box so that one end came underthe telephone receiver; under the other end I put the second candlewhich I had to cut to fit. On top of the paper-knife at the candle endI balanced the only two books I could find in the room, and fortunatelythey were heavy.
"I had no means of knowing how long it would take to melt the candleto a state of flexion which would allow the full weight of the books tobear upon the candle end of the paper-knife and fling off the receiver.I was hoping that Fisher had taken my warning and had gone. When Iopened the door softly, I heard his footsteps in the hall below. Therewas nothing to do but to finish the play.
"I turned and addressed an imaginary conversation to Kara. It washorrible, but there was something about it which aroused in me a curioussense of humour and I wanted to laugh and laugh and laugh!
"I heard the man coming up the stairs and closed the door gingerly. Whatlength of time would it take for the candle to bend!
"To completely establish the alibi I determined to hold Fisher inconversation and this was all the easier since apparently he had notseen the envelope I had left on the table downstairs. I had not longto wait for suddenly with a crash I heard the steel latch fall in itsplace. Under the effect of the heat the candle had bent sooner than Ihad expected. I asked Fisher what was the meaning of the sound and heexplained. I passed down the stairs talking all the time. I found a cabat Sloane Square and drove to my lodgings. Underneath my overcoat I waspartly dressed in evening kit.
"Ten minutes after I entered the door of my flat I came out a beardlessman about town, not to be distinguished from the thousand others whowould be found that night walking the promenade of any of the greatmusic-halls. From Victoria Street I drove straight to Scotland Yard. Itwas no more than a coincidence that whilst I should have been speakingwith you all, the second candle should have bent and the alarm be givenin the very office in which I was sitting.
"I assure you all in all earnestness that I did not suspect the cause ofthat ringing until Mr. Mansus spoke.
"There, gentlemen, is my story!" He threw out his arms.
"You may do with me as you will. Kara was a murderer, dyed a hundredtimes in innocent blood. I have done all that I set myself to do--thatand no more--that and no less. I had thought to go away to America, butthe nearer the day of my departure approached, the more vivid becamethe memory of the plans which she and I had formed, my girl... my poormartyred girl!"
He sat at the little table, his hands clasped before him, his face linedand white.
"And that is the end!" he said suddenly, with a wry smile.
"Not quite!" T. X. swung round with a gasp. It was Belinda Mary whospoke.
"I can carry it on," she said.
She was wonderfully self-possessed, thought T. X., but then T. X. neverthought anything of her but that she was "wonderfully" something or theother.
"Most of your story is true, Mr. Lexman," said this astonishing girl,oblivious of the amazed eyes that were staring at her, "but Karadeceived you in one respect."
"What do you mean?" asked John Lexman, rising unsteadily to his feet.
For answer she rose and walked back to the door with the chintz curtainsand flung it open: There was a wait which seemed an eternity, and thenthrough the doorway came a girl, slim and grave and beautiful.
"My God!" whispered T. X. "Grace Lexman!"
CHAPTER XXIII
They went out and left them alone, two people who found in this momenta heaven which is not beyond the reach of humanity, but which is seldomattained to. Belinda Mary had an eager audience all to her very self.
"Of course she didn't die," she said scornfully. "Kara was playing onhis fears all the time. He never even harmed her--in the way Mr. Lexmanfeared. He told Mrs. Lexman that her husband was dead just as he toldJohn Lexman his wife was gone. What happened was that he brought herback to England--"
"Who?" asked T. X., incredulously.
"Grace Lexman," said the girl, with a smile. "You wouldn't think itpossible, but when you realize that he had a yacht of his own and thathe could travel up from whatever landing place he chose to his house inCadogan Square by motorcar and that he could take her straight away intohis cellar without disturbing his household, you'll understand that theonly difficulty he had was in landing her. It was in the lower cellarthat I found her."
"You found her in the cellar?" demanded the Chief Commissioner.
The girl nodded.
"I found her and the dog--you heard how Kara terrified her--and Ikilled the dog with my own hands," she said a little proudly, and thenshivered. "It was very beastly," she admitted.
"And she's been living with you all this time and you've said nothing!"asked T. X., incredulously. Belinda Mary nodded.
"And that is why you didn't want me to know where you were living?" Shenodded again.
"You see she was very ill," she said, "and I had to nurse her up, and ofcourse I knew that it was Lexman who had killed Kara and I couldn't tellyou about Grace Lexman without betraying him. So when Mr. Lexman decidedto tell his story, I thought I'd better supply the grand denouement."
The men looked at one another.
"What are you going to do about Lexman?" asked the Chief Commissioner,"and, by the way, T. X., how does all this fit your theories!"
"Fairly well," replied T. X. coolly; "obviously the man who committedthe murder was the man introduced into the room as Gathercole and asobviously it was not Gathercole, although to all appearance, he had losthis left arm."
"Why obvious?" asked the Chief Commissioner.
"Because," answered T. X. Meredith, "the real Gathercole had lost hisright arm--that was the one error Lexman made."
"H'm," the Chief pulled at his moustache and looked enquiringly roundthe room, "we have to make up our minds very quickly about Lexman," hesaid. "What do you think, Carlneau?"
The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
"For my part I should not only importune your Home Secretary to pardonhim, but I should recommend him for a pension," he said flippantly.
"What do you think, Savorsky?"
The Russian smiled a little.
"It is a very impressive story," he said dispassionately; "it occurs tome that if you intend bringing your M. Lexman to judgment you are likelyto expose some very pretty scandals. Incidentally," he said, strokinghis trim little moustache, "I might remark that any exposure which drewattention to the lawless conditions of Albania would not be regarded bymy government with favour."
The Chief Commissioner's eyes twinkled and he nodded.
"That is also my view," said the Chief of the Italian bureau; "naturallywe are greatly interested in all that happens on the Adriatic littoral.It seems to me that Kara has come to a very merciful end and I am notinclined to regard a prosecution of Mr. Lexman with equanimity."
"Well, I guess the political aspect of the case doesn't affect us verymuch," said O'Grady, "but as one who was once mighty near asphyxiatedby stirring up the wrong kind of mud, I should leave the matter where itis."
The Chief Commissioner was deep in thought and Belinda Mary eyed himanxi
ously.
"Tell them to come in," he said bluntly.
The girl went and brought John Lexman and his wife, and they came inhand in hand supremely and serenely happy whatever the future might holdfor them. The Chief Commissioner cleared his throat.
"Lexman, we're all very much obliged to you," he said, "for a veryinteresting story and a most interesting theory. What you have done, asI understand the matter," he proceeded deliberately, "is to put yourselfin the murderer's place and advance a theory not only as to how themurder was actually committed, but as to the motive for that murder. Itis, I might say, a remarkable piece of reconstruction," he spoke verydeliberately, and swept away John Lexman's astonished interruption witha stern hand, "please wait and do not speak until I am out of hearing,"he growled. "You have got into the skin of the actual assassin and havespoken most convincingly. One might almost think that the man whokilled Remington Kara was actually standing before us. For that pieceof impersonation we are all very grateful;" he glared round overhis spectacles at his understanding colleagues and they murmuredapprovingly.
He looked at his watch.
"Now I am afraid I must be off," he crossed the room and put out hishand to John Lexman. "I wish you good luck," he said, and took bothGrace Lexman's hands in his. "One of these days," he said paternally, "Ishall come down to Beston Tracey and your husband shall tell me anotherand a happier story."
He paused at the door as he was going out and looking back caught thegrateful eyes of Lexman.
"By the way, Mr. Lexman," he said hesitatingly, "I don't think I shouldever write a story called 'The Clue of the Twisted Candle,' if I wereyou."
John Lexman shook his head.
"It will never be written," he said, "--by me."
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends