CHAPTER X
THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
The beauty and high spirit of Diana made so deep an impression on Lucianthat he determined to aid her by every means in his power in searchingfor the assassin of her father. As yet Denzil had reached the age oftwenty-five without having been attracted in any marked degree towardswoman-kind; or, to put it more precisely, he had not yet been in love.But now it seemed that the hour which comes to all of Adam's sons hadcome to him; for on leaving Diana he thought of nothing else but herlovely face and charming smile, and, until he met her again, her imagewas never absent from his mind.
He took but a languid interest in his daily business or social pursuits,and, wrapped up in inwardly contemplating the beauties of Diana, heappeared to move amongst his fellow-men like one in a dream. And dreamerhe was, for there was no substantial basis for his passion.
Many people--particularly those without imagination--scoff at the ideathat love can be born in a moment, but such is often the case, for alltheir ill-advised jibes. A man may be brought into contact with theloveliest and most brilliant of women, yet remain heart-whole; yetunexpectedly a face--not always the most beautiful--will fire him withsudden fervour, even against his better judgment. Love is not an affairof reason, to be clipped and measured by logic and calculation; but adevouring, destroying passion, impatient of restraint, and utterlyregardless of common sense. It is born of a look, of a smile, of a sigh,of a word; it springs up and fructifies more speedily than did Jonah'sgourd, and none can say how it begins or how it will end. It is the everold, ever new riddle of creation, and the more narrowly its mystery islooked into the more impossible does it become of solution. The lover ofto-day, with centuries of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledgethan was his father Adam.
Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after the irrational methods ofCupid, he had sufficient sense not to examine too minutely into thereasons for this sudden passion. He was in love, and admitting as muchto himself, there was an end of all argument. The long lane of hisyouthful and loveless life had turned in another direction at thesignpost of a woman's face, and down the new vista the lover sawflowering meadows, silver streams, bowers of roses, and all thelandscape of Arcadia. He was a piping swain and Diana a complaisantshepherdess; but they had not yet entered into the promised Arcadia, andmight never do so unless Diana was as kindly as he wished her to be.
Lucian was in love with Diana, but as yet he could not flatter himselfthat she was in love with him, so he resolved to win her affection--ifit was free to be bestowed--by doing her will, and her will was torevenge the death of her father. This was hardly a pleasant task toLucian in his then peace-with-all-the-world frame of mind; but seeing noother way to gain a closer intimacy with the lady of his love, he tookthe bitter with the sweet, and set his shoulder to the wheel.
The next morning, therefore, Lucian called on the landlord of No. 13 andrequested the keys of the house. But it appeared that these were not inthe landlord's keeping at the moment.
"I gave them to Mrs. Kebby, the charwoman," said Mr. Peacock, a retiredgrocer, who owned the greater part of the square. "The house is in sucha state that I thought I'd have it cleaned up a bit."
"With a view to a possible tenant, I suppose?"
"I don't know," replied Peacock, with a rueful shake of his bald head,"although I'm hoping against hope. But what with the murder and theghost, there don't seem much chance of letting it. What might you bewanting in No. 13, Mr. Denzil?"
"I wish to examine every room, to find, if possible, a clue to thiscrime," explained Lucian, suppressing the fact that he was to have acompanion.
"You'll find nothing, sir. I've looked into every room myself. However,you'll find Mrs. Kebby cleaning up, and she'll let you in if you ringthe bell. You aren't thinking of taking the house yourself, I suppose?"added Peacock wishfully.
"No, thank you. My nerves are in good order just now; I don't want toupset them by inhabiting a house with so evil a reputation."
"Ah! that's what every one says," sighed the grocer. "I wish thatBerwin, or Vrain, or whatever he called himself, had chosen some otherplace to be killed in."
"I'm afraid people who meet with unexpected deaths can't arrange theselittle matters beforehand," said Lucian drily, and walked away, leavingthe unfortunate landlord still lamenting over his unlucky possession ofa haunted and blood-stained mansion.
Before going to No. 13, Lucian walked down the street leading intoGeneva Square, in order to meet Diana, who was due at eleven o'clock.Punctual as the barrister was, he found that Miss Vrain, in herimpatience, was before him; for he arrived to see her dismiss her cab atthe end of the street, and met her half way down.
His heart gave a bound as he saw her graceful figure, and he felt thehot blood rise to his cheeks as he advanced to meet her.
Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her namesake, the moon, causedthis springtide of the heart, could not forbear a glance of surprise,but greeted her coadjutor without embarrassment and with allfriendliness. Her thoughts were too taken up with her immediate task ofexploring the scene of the crime to waste time in conjecturing thereason of the young man's blushes. Yet the instinct of her sex mighthave told her the truth, and probably it would have but that it wasblunted, or rather not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation.
"Have you the key, Mr. Denzil?" said she eagerly.
"No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has given us permission to goover the house. A charwoman who is cleaning up the place will let usin."
"A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping short, "and cleaning up thehouse! Is it, then, about to receive a new tenant?"
"Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired and swept; to keep it insome degree of order, I presume."
"What is the name of this woman?"
"Mrs. Kebby."
"The same mentioned in the newspaper reports as having waited on myunhappy father?"
"The same," replied Lucian, with some hesitation; "but I would adviseyou, Miss Vrain, not to question her too closely about your father."
"Why not? Ah! I see; you think her answers about his drinking habitswill give me pain. No matter; I am prepared for all that. I don't blamehim so much as those who drove him to intemperance. Is this the house?"she said, looking earnestly at the neglected building before which theywere standing.
"Yes," replied Lucian, ringing the bell, "it was in this house that yourfather came to his untimely end. And here is Mrs. Kebby."
That amiable crone had opened the door while the young man was speaking,and now stood eyeing her visitors with a blear-eyed look of darksuspicion.
"What is't ye want?" she demanded, with a raven-like croak.
"Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permission to go over thehouse," responded Lucian, trying to pass.
"And how do I know if he did?" grumbled Mrs. Kebby, blocking the way.
"Because I tell you so."
"And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain," said Diana, steppingforward.
"Lord love ye, miss! are ye?" croaked Mrs. Kebby, stepping aside. "Andye've come to look at your pa's blood, I'll be bound."
Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling herself by an effort ofwill, she swept past the old woman and entered the sitting-room. "Isthis the place?" she asked Lucian, who was holding the door open.
"That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had hobbled after them,"and yonder is the poor gentleman's blood; it soaked right through thecarpet," added Mrs. Kebby, with ghoulish relish. "Lor! 'ow it must 'avepoured out!"
"Hold your tongue, woman!" said Lucian roughly, seeing that Diana lookedas though about to faint. "Get on with your work!"
"I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping," growled the crone, retreating."You'll bring me to you if ye give a holler. I'll show ye round for ashilling."
"You shall have double if you leave us alone," said Lucian, pointing tothe door.
Mrs. Kebby's blear eyes lighted up, and she leered amiably at thecouple.
"I dessay it's worth two shillings," she said, chuckling hoarsely. "Oh,I'm not so old but what I don't know two turtle doves. He! he! To kissover yer father's blood! Lawks! what a match 'twill be! He! he!"
Still laughing hoarsely, Mrs. Kebby, in the midst of her unholy joy, waspushed out of the door by Lucian, who immediately afterwards turned tosee if Diana had overheard her ill-chosen and ominous words. But MissVrain, with a hard, white face, was leaning against the wall, and gaveno sign of such knowledge. Her eyes were fixed on a dull-looking redstain of a dark hue, irregular in shape, and her hands the while werepressed closely against her bosom, as though she felt a cruel pain inher heart. With bloodless cheek and trembling lip the daughter lookedupon the evidence of her father's death. Lucian was alarmed by herunnatural pallor.
"Miss Vrain!" he exclaimed, starting forward, "you are ill! Let me leadyou out of this house."
"No!" said Diana, waving him back. "Not till we examine every inch ofit; don't speak to me, please. I wish to use my eyes rather than mytongue."
Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected this emotion of the pooryoung lady, so natural under the circumstances; and in silence conductedher from room to room. All were empty and still dusty, for Mrs. Kebby'sbroom swept sufficiently light, and the footfalls of the pair echoedhollowly in the vast spaces.
Diana looked into every corner, examined every fireplace, attemptedevery window, but in no place could she find any extraneous objectlikely to afford a clue to the crime. They went down into the basementand explored the kitchen, the servant's parlour, the scullery, and thepantry, but with the same unsatisfactory result. The kitchen door, whichled out into the back yard, showed signs of having been lately opened;but when Diana drew Lucian's attention to this fact, as the murdererhaving possibly entered thereby, he assured her that it had only latelybeen opened by the detective, Link, when he was searching for clues.
"I saw this door," added Lucian, striking it with his cane, "a weekbefore your father was killed. He showed it to me himself, to prove thatno one could have entered the house during his absence; and I wassatisfied then, from the rusty condition of the bolts, and the absenceof the key in the lock, that the door had not been opened--at allevents, during his tenancy."
"Then how could those who killed him have entered?"
"That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But why do you speak in theplural?"
"Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed my father."
"But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained at Bath."
"I know it," replied Diana quickly, "but she sent Ferruci up to kill myfather, and I speak in the plural because I think--in a moral sense--sheis as guilty as the Italian."
"That may be, Miss Vrain, but as yet we have not proved their guilt."
Diana made no answer, but, followed by Lucian, ascended to the upperpart of the house, where they found Mrs. Kebby sweeping so vigorouslythat she had raised a kind of dust storm. As soon as she saw the coupleshe hobbled towards them to cajole them, if possible, into giving hermoney.
For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, not relishing thefamiliarity of the old dame, but unexpectedly she stepped forward with alook of excitement.
"Where did you get that ribbon?" she asked Mrs Kebby, pointing to ascrap of personal adornment on the neck of the rusty old creature.
"This?" croaked Mrs. Kebby. "I picked it up in the kitchen downstairs.It's a pretty red and yaller thing, but of no value, miss, so I don'ts'pose you'll take it orf me."
Paying no attention to this whimpering, Diana twitched the ribbon out ofthe old woman's hands and examined it. It was a broad yellow ribbon ofrich silk, spotted with red--very noticeably and evidently of foreignmanufacture.
"It is the same!" cried Diana, greatly excited. "Mr. Denzil, I boughtthis ribbon myself in Florence!"
"Well," said Lucian, wondering at her excitement, "and what does thatprove?"
"This: that a stiletto which my father bought in Florence, at the sametime, has been used to kill him! I tied this ribbon myself round thehandle of the stiletto!"