CHAPTER XXIV
LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
Although Denzil received Mr. Clyne with all courtesy, and promised toaid him, if he could, in breaking off the marriage with Ferruci, byrevealing his true character to Mrs. Vrain, he by no means made aconfidant of the little man, or entrusted him with the secret of hisplans. Clyne, as he well knew, was dominated in every way by his astutedaughter, and did he learn Lucian's intentions, he was quitecapable--through sheer weakness of character--of revealing the same toLydia, who, in her turn--since she was bent upon marrying Ferruci--mightretail them to the Italian, and so put him on his guard.
Denzil, therefore, rid himself of the American by promising to tell him,on some future occasion, all that he knew about Ferruci. Satisfied withthis, Clyne departed in a more cheerful mood, and, apparently, hoped forthe best.
After his departure, Lucian again began to consider his idea of callingon Jorce regarding the alibi of Ferruci. On further reflection he judgedthat, before paying the visit to Hampstead, it might be judicious tosee Rhoda again, and refresh his memory in connection with the events ofChristmas Eve. With this idea he put on his hat, and shortly after thedeparture of Clyne walked round to Jersey Street.
On ringing the bell, the door was opened by Rhoda in person, lookingsharper and more cunning than ever. She informed him that he could notsee Mrs. Bensusan, as that good lady was in bed with a cold.
"I don't want to see your mistress, my girl," said Lucian quickly, tostop Rhoda from shutting the door in his face, which she seemed disposedto do. "I desire to speak with you."
"About that there murder?" asked Rhoda sharply. Then in reply to the nodof Lucian she continued: "I told you all I knew about it when you calledbefore. I don't know nothing more."
"Can you tell me the name of the dark man you saw in the yard?"
"No, I can't. I know nothing about him."
"Did you ever hear Mr. Wrent mention his name?"
"No, sir. He called and he went, and I saw him in the back yard at 8.30.I never spoke to him, and he never spoke to me."
"Could you swear to the man if you saw him?"
"Yes, I could. Have you got him with you?" asked Rhoda eagerly.
"Not at present," answered Lucian, rather surprised by the vindictiveexpression on the girl's face. "But later on I may call upon you toidentify him."
"Do you know who he is?" asked the servant quickly.
"I think so."
"Did he kill that man?"
"Possibly," said Denzil, wondering at these very pointed questions. "Whydo you ask?"
"I have my reasons, sir. Where is my cloak?"
"I will return it later on; it will probably be used as evidence."
Rhoda started. "Where?" she demanded, with a frown.
"At the trial."
"Do you think they'll hang the person who killed Mr. Vrain?"
"If the police catch him, and his guilt is proved, I am sure they willhang him."
The girl's eyes flashed with a wicked light, and she clasped andunclasped her hands with a quick, nervous movement. "I hope they will,"she said in a low, rapid voice. "I hope they will."
"What!" cried Lucian, with a step forward. "Do you know the assassin?"
"No!" cried Rhoda, with much vehemence. "I swear I don't, but I thinkthe murderer ought to be hanged. I know--I know--well, I knowsomething--see me to-morrow night, and you'll hear."
"Hear what?"
"The truth," said this strange girl, and shut the door before Luciancould say another word.
The barrister, quite dumbfounded, remained on the step looking at theclosed door. So important were Rhoda's words that he was on the point ofringing again, to interview her once more and force her to speak. Butwhen he reflected that Mrs. Bensusan was in bed, and that Rhoda alonecould reopen the door--which from her late action it was pretty evidentshe would not do--he decided to retire for the present. It was littleuse to call in the police, or create trouble by forcing his way into thehouse, as that might induce Rhoda to run away before giving herevidence. So Lucian departed, with the intention of keeping the nextnight's appointment, and hearing what Rhoda had to say.
"The truth," he repeated, as he walked along the street. "Evidently sheknows who killed this man. If so, why did she not speak before, and whyis she so vindictive? Heavens! If Diana's belief should be a true one,and her father not dead? Conspiracy! murder! this gypsy girl, thatsubtle Italian, and the mysterious Wrent! My head is in a whirl. Icannot understand what it all means. To-morrow, when Rhoda speaks, Imay. But--can I trust her? I doubt it. Still, there is nothing else forit. I _must_ trust her."
Talking to himself in this incoherent way, Lucian reached his rooms andtried to quiet the excitement of his brain caused by the strange wordsof Rhoda. It was yet early in the afternoon, so he took up a book andthrew himself on the sofa to read for an hour, but he found it quiteimpossible to fix his attention on the page. The case in which he wasconcerned was far more exciting than any invention of the brain, andafter a vain attempt to banish it from his mind he jumped up and threwthe book aside.
Although he did not know it, Lucian was suffering from a sharp attack ofdetective fever, and the only means of curing such a disease is to learnthe secret which haunts the imagination. Rhoda, as she stated--ratherambiguously, it must be confessed--could reveal this especial secrettouching the murder of Vrain; but, for some hidden reason, chose todelay her confession for twenty-four hours. Lucian, all on fire withcuriosity, found himself unable to bear this suspense, so to distracthis mind and learn, if possible, the true relationship existing betweenFerruci and Jorce, he set out for Hampstead to interview the doctor.
"The Haven," as Jorce, with some humour, termed his private asylum, wasa red brick house, large, handsome, and commodious, built in a woodedand secluded part of Hampstead. It was surrounded by a high brick wall,over which the trees of its park could be seen, and possessed a pair ofelaborate iron gates, opening on to a quiet country lane. Externally, itlooked merely the estate of a gentleman.
The grounds were large, and well laid out in flower gardens andorchards; and as it was Dr. Jorce's system to allow his least crazypatients as much liberty as possible, they roamed at will round thegrounds, giving the place a cheerful and populated look. The moreviolent inmates were, of course, secluded; but these were well andkindly treated by the doctor. Indeed, Jorce was a very humane man, andhad a theory that more cures of the unhappy beings under his chargecould be effected by kindness than by severity.
His asylum was more like a private hotel with paying guests than anestablishment for the retention of the insane, and even to an outsideobserver the eccentricities of the doctor's family--as he loved to callthem--were not more marked than many of the oddities possessed by peopleat large. Indeed, Jorce was in the habit of saying that "There were moremad people in the world than were kept under lock and key," and in thishe was doubtless right. However, the kindly and judicious little man waslike a father to those under his charge, and very popular with them all.Anything more unlike the popular conception of an asylum than theestablishment at Hampstead can scarcely be imagined.
When Lucian arrived at "The Haven," he found that Jorce had long sincereturned from his holiday, and was that day at home; so on sending inhis card he was at once admitted into the presence of the localpotentate. Jorce, looking smaller and more like a fairy changeling thanever, was evidently pleased to see Lucian, but a look on his dry, yellowface indicated that he was somewhat puzzled to account for the visit.However, preliminary greetings having passed, Lucian did not leave himlong in doubt.
"Dr. Jorce," he said boldly, and without preamble, "I have called to seeyou about that alibi of Signor Ferruci's."
"Alibi is a nasty word, Mr. Denzil," said Jorce, looking sharply at hisvisitor.
"Perhaps, but it is the only word that can be used with propriety."
"But I thought that I was called on to decide a bet."
"Oh, that was Count Ferruci's clever way of putting it," respondedLu
cian, with a sneer. "He did not wish you to know too much about hisbusiness."
"H'm! Perhaps I know more than you think, Mr. Denzil."
"What do you mean, sir?" cried Lucian sharply.
"Softly, Mr. Denzil, softly," rejoined the doctor, waving his hand. "Ishall explain everything to your satisfaction. Do you know why I went toItaly?"
"No; no more than I know why you went with Signor Ferruci," repliedLucian, recalling Link's communication.
"Ah!" said Jorce placidly, "you have been making inquiries, I see. Butyou are wrong in one particular. I did not go to Italy with Ferruci--Ileft him in Paris, and I went on myself to Florence to find out the truecharacter of the man."
"Why did you wish to do that, doctor?"
"Because I had some business with our mutual friend, the Count, and Iwas not altogether pleased with the way in which it was conducted. Also,my last interview with you about that bet made me suspicious of the man.Over in Florence I learned sufficient about the Count to assure me thathe is a bad man, with whom it is as well to have as little to do aspossible. I intended to return at once with this information and call onyou, Mr. Denzil. Unfortunately, I fell ill of an attack of typhoid feverin Florence, and had to stay there these two months."
"I am sorry," said Lucian, noting that the doctor did look ill, "but whydid you not send on your information to me?"
"It was necessary to see you personally, Mr. Denzil. I arrived back afew days ago, and intended writing to you when I recovered from thefatigue of the journey. However, your arrival saves me the trouble. NowI can tell you all about Ferruci, if you like."
"Then tell me, Doctor, if you spoke truly about that alibi?"
"Yes, I did. Count Ferruci was with me that night, and stayed here untilthe next morning."
"What time did he arrive?"
"About ten o'clock, or, to be precise," said Jorce, "about ten-thirty."
"Ah!" cried Lucian exultantly, "then Ferruci must have been the man inthe back yard!"
"What do you mean by that?" asked Jorce in a puzzled tone.
"Why, that Count Ferruci has had to do with a crime committed somemonths ago in Pimlico. A man called Mark Vrain was murdered, as you mayhave seen in the papers, Doctor, and I believe Ferruci murdered him."
"If I remember rightly," said Jorce with calmness, "the man in questionwas murdered shortly before midnight on Christmas Eve. If that is so,Ferruci could not have killed him, because, as I said before, he washere at half-past ten on that night."
"I don't say he actually killed the man," explained Lucian eagerly, "buthe certainly employed some one to strike the blow, else what was hedoing in the Jersey Street yard on that night? You can say what youlike, Dr. Jorce, but that man is guilty of Mark Vrain's death."
"No," replied Jorce coolly, "he's not, for the simple reason that Vrainis not dead."
"Not dead?" repeated Lucian, recalling Diana's belief.
"No! For the last few months Mark Vrain, under the name of MichaelClear, has been in this asylum!"