CHAPTER XVI
MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
"You saw the dark man in the back yard on Christmas Eve?" repeatedLucian, much surprised by this discovery.
"Yes, I did," replied Rhoda decisively, "at half-past eight o'clock. Iwent out into the yard to put some empty bottles into the shed, and Isaw the man standing near the fence, looking at the back of No. 13. Whenhe heard me coming out he rushed past me and out by the side passage.The moon was shining, and I saw him as plain as plain."
"Did he seem afraid?"
"Yes, he did; and didn't want to be seen, neither. I told Mr. Wrent, andhe promised me a cloak if I held my tongue. He said the dark man waswaiting in the yard until the lady had gone, when he was coming inagain."
"But the lady, you say, went at eight, and you saw the man half an hourlater?"
"That's it, sir. He told me a lie, for he never came in again to see Mr.Wrent."
"But already the dark man had seen the lady?"
"Yes. He came in with her at seven, and went away at half-past."
Lucian mechanically stooped down and picked up the fur cloak. He waspuzzled by the information given by Rhoda, and did not exactly see whatuse to make of it. Going by the complexion of the man who had lurked inthe back yard, it would appear that he was Count Ferruci; while thesmall stature of the woman, and the fact that she wore a velvet-spottedveil, indicated that she was Lydia Vrain; also the pair had been in thevicinity of the haunted house on the night of the murder; and, althoughit was true both were out of the place by half-past eight, yet theymight not have gone far, but had probably returned later--when Rhoda andMrs. Bensusan were asleep--to murder Vrain, between the hours of elevenand twelve on the same night.
This was all plain enough, but Lucian was puzzled by the account of Mr.Wrent. Who, he asked himself repeatedly, who was this grey-haired,white-bearded man who had so often received Lydia, who had on ChristmasEve silenced Rhoda regarding Ferruci's presence in the yard, by means ofthe cloak, and who--it would seem--possessed the key to the wholemystery?
Rhoda could tell no more but that he had stayed six months with Mrs.Bensusan, and had departed two days after the murder; whereby it wouldseem that his task having been completed, he had no reason to remainlonger in so dangerous a neighbourhood. Yet four months had elapsedsince his departure, and Denzil, after some reflection, asked Mrs.Bensusan a question or two regarding this interval.
"Has Mr. Wrent returned here since his departure?" he demanded.
"Lawks! no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan, shaking her head. "I've neverset eyes on him since he went. 'Ave you, Rhoda?" Whereat the girl shookher head also, and watched Lucian with an intensity of gaze whichsomewhat discomposed him.
"Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs. Bensusan?"
"No, sir. He paid up like a gentleman. I always thought well of Mr.Wrent."
"Rhoda doesn't seem to share your sentiments," said Denzil drily.
"No, I don't!" cried the servant, frowning. "I hated Mr. Wrent!"
"Why did you hate him?"
"Never you mind, sir," retorted Rhoda grimly. "I hated him."
"Yet he bought you this cloak."
"No, he didn't!" contradicted the girl. "He got it from the lady!"
"What!" cried Lucian sharply. "Are you sure of that?"
"I can't exactly swear to it," replied Rhoda, hesitating, "but it wasthis way: The lady wore a cloak like that, and I admired it awful. Shehad it on when she came, Christmas Eve, and she didn't wear it when Ilet her out, and the next day Mr. Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose itis the same cloak."
"And did the lady go out into the cold winter weather without thecloak?"
"Yes; but she had a long cloth jacket on, sir, so I don't s'pose shemissed it."
"Was the lady agitated when she went out?"
"I don't know. She held her tongue and kept her veil down."
"Can you tell me anything more?" asked Lucian, anxious to make theexamination as exhaustive as possible.
"No, Mr. Denzil," answered Rhoda, after some thought, "I can't, exceptthat Mr. Wrent, long before Christmas, promised me a present, and gaveme the cloak then."
"Will you let me take this cloak away with me?"
"If you like," replied Rhoda carelessly. "I don't want it.'
"Oh, Rhoda!" wailed Mrs. Bensusan. "Your lovely, lovely rabbit skin!"
"I'll bring it back again," said Lucian hastily. "I only want to use itas evidence."
"Ye want to know who the lady is?" said Rhoda sharply.
"Yes, I do. Can you tell me?"
"No; but you'll find out from that cloak. I guess why you're taking it."
"You are very sharp, Rhoda," said Lucian, rising, with a good-humouredsmile, "and well deserve your local reputation. If I find Mr. Wrent, Imay require you to identify him; and Mrs. Bensusan also."
"I'll be able to do that, but missus hasn't her eyes much."
"Hasn't her eyes?" repeated Denzil, with a glance at Mrs. Bensusan'sstaring orbs.
"Lawks, sir, I'm shortsighted, though I never lets on. Rhoda, 'ow canyou 'ave let on to the gentleman as I'm deficient? As to knowing Mr.Wrent, I'd do so well enough," said Mrs. Bensusan, tossing her head,"with his long white beard and white 'ead, let alone his black velvetskull-cap."
"Oh, he wore a skull-cap?"
"Only indoors," said Rhoda sharply, "but here I'm 'olding the door wide,sir, so if you've done, we're done."
"I'm done, as you call it, for the present," replied Denzil, putting onhis hat, "but I may come again. In the meantime, hold your tongues.Silence on this occasion will be gold; speech won't even be silver."
Mrs. Bensusan laughed at this speech in a fat and comfortable sort ofway, while Rhoda grinned, and escorted Lucian to the front door. Shelooked so uncanny, with her red hair and black eyes, that the barristercould not forbear a question.
"Are you English, my girl?"
"No, I ain't!" retorted Rhoda emphatically. "I'm of the gentle Romany."
"A gipsy!"
"So you Gorgios call us!" replied the girl, and shut the door with whatseemed to be unnecessary violence. Lucian went off with the cloak overhis arm, somewhat discomposed by this last piece of information.
"A gipsy!" he repeated. "Humph! Can good come out of Nazareth? I don'ttrust that girl much. If I knew why she hates Wrent, I'd be much moresatisfied with her information. And who the deuce is Wrent?"
Lucian had occasion to ask himself this question many times before hefound its answer, and that was not until afterwards. At the presentmoment he dismissed it from his mind as unprofitable. He was too busyreflecting on the evidence obtained in Jersey Street to waste time inconjecturing further events. On returning to his lodgings he sat down toconsider what was best to be done.
After much reflection and internal argument, he decided to call uponMrs. Vrain, and by producing the cloak, force her into confessing hershare of the crime. Whether she had been the principal in the deed, oran accessory before the fact, Lucian could not determine; but he wasconfident that in one way or another she was cognizant of the truth;although this she would probably conceal, as its revelation would likelybe detrimental to her own safety.
At first Denzil intended to see Diana before visiting Mrs. Vrain, inorder to relate all he had learned, and find out from her if the cloakreally belonged to the widow. But on second thoughts he decided not todo so.
"I can tell her nothing absolutely certain about the matter," he said tohimself, "as I cannot be sure of anything until I force Mrs. Vrain toconfess. Diana," so he called her in his discourse to himself, "Dianawill probably know nothing about the ownership of the cloak, as it seemsnew, and was probably purchased by Lydia during the absence of Diana inAustralia. No, I have the address of Mrs. Vrain, which Diana gave me. Itwill be best to call on her, and by displaying the cloak make heracknowledge her guilt.
"With such evidence she cannot deny that she visited Wrent; and was inthe vicinity of the house wherein her husband was murdered on the verynight the crime was co
mmitted. Also she must state Ferruci's reason forhiding in the back yard, and tell me plainly who Wrent is, and why hehelped the pair of them in their devilish plans. I am doubtful if shewill speak; but altogether the evidence I have collected inculpates herso strongly that it will be quite sufficient grounds upon which toobtain a warrant for her arrest. And sooner than risk that, I expect shewill tell as much as she can to exculpate herself--that is, if she isreally innocent. If she is guilty," Lucian shrugged his shoulders, "thenI cannot guess what course she will take."
Mrs. Vrain, with her father to protect her, had established herself in asmall but luxurious house in Mayfair, and was preparing to enjoyherself during the coming season. Although her husband had met with aterrible death scarcely six months before, she had already cast off herheavy mourning, and wore only such millinery indications of sorrow assuited with her widowed existence.
Ferruci was a constant visitor at the house; but although Lydia was nowfree, and wealthy, she by no means seemed ready to marry the Italian.Perhaps she thought, with her looks and riches, she might gain anEnglish title, as more valuable than a Continental one; and in this viewshe was supported by her father. Clyne had no other desire than to seehis beloved Lydia happy, and would willingly have sacrificed everythingin his power to gain such an end; but as he did not like Ferrucihimself, and saw that Lydia's affections towards him had cooled greatly,he did not encourage the idea of a match between them.
However, these matters were yet in abeyance, as Lydia was too diplomaticto break off with so subtle a man as the Count, who might prove adangerous enemy were his love turned to hate, and Mr. Clyne was quitewilling to remain on friendly terms with the man so long as Lydia chosethat such friendship should exist. In short, Lydia ruled her simplefather with a rod of iron, and coaxed Ferruci--a more difficult man todeal with--into good humour; so she managed both of them skilfully inevery way, and contrived to keep things smooth, pending her plunge intoLondon society. For all her childish looks, Lydia was uncommonlyclever.
When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain proved to be at home, andas his good looks had made a deep impression on her, she received him atonce. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished drawing-room withoutdelay, and welcomed by pretty Mrs. Vrain herself, who came forward witha bright smile and outstretched hands, looking more charming than ever.
"Well, I do call this real sweet of you," said she gaily. "I guess it isabout time you showed up. But you don't look well, that's a fact. What'swrong?"
"I'm worried a little," replied Lucian, confounded by her coolness.
"That's no use, Mr. Denzil. You should never be worried. I guess I don'tlet anything put me out."
"Not even your husband's death?"
"That's rude!" said Lydia sharply, the colour leaving her cheek. "Whatdo you mean? Have you come to be nasty?"
"I came to return you this," said Denzil, throwing the cloak which hehad carried on his arm before the widow.
"This?" echoed Mrs. Vrain, looking at it. "Well, what's this old thinggot to do with me?"
"It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!"
"Did I? And where's Jersey Street?"
"You know well enough," said Lucian sternly. "It is near the placewhere your husband was murdered."
Mrs. Vrain turned white. "Do you dare to say----" she began, when Denzilcut her short with a hint at her former discomposure.
"The stiletto, Mrs. Vrain! Don't forget the stiletto!"
"Oh, God!" cried Lydia, trembling violently. "What do you know of thestiletto?"