CHAPTER XXVII
A CONFESSION
Now, indeed, Lucian had his hands full. Rhoda, the red-headed servant ofMrs. Bensusan, had run away on the plea that she was afraid ofsomething--what she did not explain in the note she left behind her, andit was necessary that she should be discovered, and forced intoconfessing what she knew of the conspiracy and murder. Mrs. Clear, nothaving been paid her hush money, had betrayed the confidence andmisdeeds of Ferruci, thereby revealing an extent of villainy for whichneither Diana nor Lucian was prepared. Now the Count had to be seen andbrought to book for his doings, Lydia informed that her husband was inthe asylum, and Vrain himself had to be released in due form from hislegal imprisonment. How Lucian, even with the assistance of Diana, coulddeal with all these matters, he did not know.
"Why not see Mr. Link?" suggested Diana, when Mrs. Clear had departed,after making a clean breast of the nefarious transactions in which shehad been involved. "He may take the case in hand again."
"No doubt," responded Denzil drily, "but I am not very keen to hand itover to him, seeing that he has abandoned it twice. Again, if I call inthe police, it is all over with Lydia and the Count. They will bearrested and punished."
"For the murder of Clear?"
"Perhaps, if it can be proved that they have anything to do with it;certainly for the conspiracy to get the assurance money by the feigneddeath of your father."
"Well," said Diana coldly, "and why should they not receive the rewardof their deeds?"
"Quite so; but the question is, do you wish any scandal?"
Diana was silent. She had not looked at the matter from this point ofview. It was true what Lucian said. If the police took up the caseagain, Lydia and her accomplice would be arrested, and the whole sordidstory of their doings would be in the papers.
Diana was a proud woman, and winced at the idea of such publicity. Itwould be as well to avoid proceeding to such extremities. If theassurance money was returned by Lydia, she would be reduced to herformer estate, and by timely flight might escape the vengeance of thedefrauded company. After all, she was the wife of Vrain, and little asDiana liked her, she did not wish to see the woman who was so closelyrelated to the wronged man put in prison; not for her own sake, but forthe sake of the name she so unworthily bore.
"I leave it in your hands," said Diana to Lucian, who was watching herclosely.
"Very good," replied Denzil. "Then I think it will be best for me to seeFerruci first, and hear his confession; afterwards call on Mrs. Vrain,and learn what she has to say. Then----"
"Well," said Diana, curiously, "what then?"
"I will be guided by circumstances. In the meantime, for the sake ofyour name, we had better keep the matter as quiet as possible."
"Mrs. Clear may speak out."
"Mrs. Clear won't speak," said Denzil grimly. "She will keep quiet forher own sake; and as Rhoda has left Jersey Street, there will be nodanger of trouble from that quarter. First, I'll see Lydia and theCount, to get to the bottom of this conspiracy; then I'll set the policeon Rhoda's track, that she may be arrested and made to confess herknowledge of the murder."
"Do you think she knows anything?"
"I think she knows everything," replied Lucian with emphasis. "That iswhy she has run away. If we capture her, and force her to speak, we maybe able to arrest Wrent."
"Why Wrent?" asked Diana.
"Have you forgotten what Mrs. Clear said? I agree with her that he isthe assassin, although we can't prove it as yet."
"But who is Wrent?"
"Ah!" said Lucian, significantly, "that is just what I wish to findout."
The upshot of this interview was that early the next morning Denzil wentto the chambers of Ferruci, in Marquis Street, and informed the servantthat he wanted particularly to see the Count.
At first the Italian, being still in bed--for he was a late riser--didnot incline to grant his visitor an interview; but on second thoughts heordered Lucian to be shown into the sitting-room, and shortly afterwardsjoined him there wrapped in a dressing-gown. He welcomed the barristerwith a smiling nod, and having some instinct that Lucian came on anunpleasant errand, he did not offer him his hand. From the first the twomen were on their guard against one another.
"Good-morning, sir," said Ferruci in his best English. "May I ask whyyou take me from my bed so early?"
"To tell you a story."
"About my friend Dr. Jorce saying I was with him on that night?" sneeredthe Count.
"Partly, and partly about a lady you know."
Ferruci frowned. "You speak of Mrs. Vrain?"
"No," replied Lucian coolly. "I speak of Mrs. Clear."
At the mention of this name, which was the last one he expected to hearhis visitor pronounce, the Italian, in spite of his coolness andcunning, could not forbear a start.
"Mrs. Clear?" he repeated. "And what do you know of Mrs. Clear?"
"As much as Dr. Jorce could tell me, Count."
Ferruci's brow cleared. "Then you know I pay for keeping her miserablehusband with my friend," he said composedly. "It is for her sake I am sokind."
"Rather it is for your own you are so cunning."
"Cunning! A most strange word for my goodness," said the Count coolly.
"The most fit word, you mean," replied Lucian, impatient of thisfencing. "It is no use beating about the bush, Count. I know that theman you keep in the asylum is not Clear, but Mark Vrain."
"La! la! la! You talk great humbug. Mr. Vrain is dead and buried!"
"He is not dead," answered Lucian resolutely, "and the man who wasburied under his name is Michael Clear, the husband of the woman whotold me all."
Ferruci, who had been pacing impatiently up and down the room, stoppedshort, with a nervous laugh.
"This is most amusing," he said, with an emotion he could not concealdespite his self-control. "Mrs. Clear told you all, eh? She told youwhat, my friend?"
"That is the story I have come to tell you," replied Lucian sharply.
"Very good," said Ferruci, with a shrug. "I wait to hear this prettystory," and with a frown he threw himself into a chair near Lucian.Apparently he saw that he was found out, for it took him all his time tokeep his voice from trembling and his hands from shaking. The man wasnot a coward, but being thus brought face to face with a peril he littleexpected, it was scarcely to be wondered at that he felt shaken andnervous. Moreover, he knew little about the English law, and hardlyguessed how his misdeeds would be punished. Still, he did not surrenderon the spot, but listened quietly to Lucian's story, in the hope ofseeing some way of escape from his awkward position.
"The other day I went to Dr. Jorce's asylum," said Lucian slowly, "andthere I discovered--it matters not how--that your friend Clear was Mr.Vrain; also I learned that he had been placed in the asylum by you andMrs. Clear. Jorce gave me her address in Bayswater, but when I wentthere I could not find her; she had left. I then put an advertisement inall the papers, stating that if she called on me she would hear ofsomething to her advantage. Now, Count, it appears that Mrs. Clear wasin the habit of looking into the papers to see if there was any messagefrom yourself, or your friend Wrent, so she saw my advertisement atonce, and came in person to reply to it."
"One moment, Mr. Denzil," said Ferruci politely. "I know no one calledWrent, and he is not my friend."
"We'll come to that hereafter," answered Lucian, with a shrug. "In themeantime I'll proceed with my story, which I see interests you verymuch. Well, Count, it seems that Michael Clear was an actor, who bore astrong resemblance to Mr. Vrain, save that he had not a scar on hisface. Vrain, at Bath, was always clean shaven; now he wears a long whitebeard, but that is neither here nor there. Clear had a moustache, butwhen that was shaved off he looked exactly like Vrain. For purposes ofyour own, which you can easily guess, you made the acquaintance of thisman, a profligate and a drunkard, and proposed, for a certain sum ofmoney to be paid to his wife, that he, Michael Clear, should personateVrain and live in the Silent House in Geneva Sq
uare, under the name ofBerwin. You knew that Clear was slowly dying of consumption and drink,so you trusted that he would die as Vrain; that Mrs. Vrain--who Ibelieve is in the plot--would recognise the corpse by the description inthe newspapers; and that, when Clear was buried as Vrain, she would getthe assurance money and marry you."
"That is clever," said the Count, with a sneer.
"But is it true?"
"You know best," answered Lucian, coolly. "However, all turned out asyou expected, for Clear died as Vrain--or rather was murdered at yourcommand, as he did not die quickly enough--his body was recognised byMrs. Vrain, buried as her husband, and she got the assurance money. Theonly thing that remains for your conspiracy to be entirely successful isthat Mrs. Vrain should marry you; and--as I was told by Mr. Clyne--thathas pretty well been arranged."
"Do you think, then, that Clyne would let his daughter marry a man whohas done all this?" said Ferruci, who was now very pale.
"I don't believe Clyne knows anything about it," replied Lucian coldly."You and Mrs. Vrain made up this pretty plot between you. Vrain himselftold me how you decoyed him from Salisbury, and took him to Mrs.Clear's, in Bayswater, where he passed as her husband, although, as sheconfesses, she kept him as a kind of prisoner."
"But this is wrong," cried Ferruci, trying to laugh. "This is mostfoolish. How would a man, of his own will, pass as the husband of awoman he knew not?"
"A sane man would not; but none knew better than you, Count, that Vrainwas not sane, and that you dosed him with drugs, and let Mrs. Clear keephim locked up in her house until you put him in the asylum. Vrain was apuppet in your hands, and you locked him up in an asylum a fortnightafter the man who personated him was murdered. You intended to marryMrs. Vrain and keep her wretched husband in that asylum all his life."
"The best place for a lunatic," said Ferruci.
"Ah!" cried Lucian. "Then you admit that that Vrain was mad?"
"I admit nothing, not even that he is alive. If what you say is true,"said the Italian, cunningly, "how came it that the murdered man had thescar on his cheek? He might have been like Vrain, eh, but not so much."
"Mrs. Clear explained that," replied Lucian quickly. "You made thatscar, Count, with vitriol, or some such stuff. You don't know chemistryfor nothing, I see."
"I am quite ignorant of chemistry," said Ferruci sullenly.
"Jorce heard a different story in Florence."
"In Florence! Did Jorce ask about me there?" said the Count in alarm.
"He did, and heard some strange tales, Count. Come, now, it is no useyour trying to evade this matter further. Jorce can prove that you putVrain into his asylum under the name of Clear. Miss Vrain can prove thatthe so-called Clear is her father, and Mrs. Clear--who has turnedQueen's evidence--has exposed the whole of your conspiracy. The game'sup, Count."
Ferruci sprang from his seat and began to walk hastily up and down theroom. He looked haggard and pale, and years older, as he recognised hisposition, for he saw very plainly that he was trapped, and that nothingremained to him but flight. But how to fly? He stopped opposite toLucian.
"What do you intend to do?" he demanded in a hoarse voice.
"Have you arrested, along with Mrs. Vrain," replied Lucian, making thisthreat to force Ferruci into defending himself or confessing.
"Mrs. Vrain is innocent--she knows nothing about this conspiracy, as youcall it. I planned the whole thing myself."
"You admit, then, that the so-called Vrain was really Michael Clear?"
"Yes. I got him to personate the man Vrain, so that I could get theassurance money when I married Lydia. I chose Clear because he was likeVrain. I made the scar on the cheek, and I thought he would die soon,being consumptive."
"And you killed him?"
"No! No! I swear I did not kill him!"
"Did you not take that stiletto from Berwin Manor?"
"No! I never did! I am telling the truth! I do not know who killedClear."
"Did you not visit Wrent in Jersey Street?"
"Yes. I was the man Rhoda saw in the back yard. I was waiting for Mrs.Clear, to take her to Hampstead; and in the meantime I thought I wouldclimb over the fence and see Clear. But the girl saw me, so I ran away,and joined Mrs. Clear up the road. I was not aware at the time that thewoman who saw me was Rhoda. Afterwards I went to Hampstead with Mrs.Clear, to see Jorce."
"Did you buy the cloak?"
"I did. That girl in Baxter & Co.'s told a lie for me. I was warned byMrs. Vrain that you had made questions about the cloak, so I went to thegirl and told her you were a jealous husband, and paid her to say it wasnot I who bought the cloak. She did so, quite ignorant of the realreason I wished her to deny knowing me."
"Why did you buy the cloak?" asked Lucian, satisfied with thisexplanation.
"I bought it for Wrent. He asked me to buy it, but what he wanted it forI do not know. He had it some days before Christmas, and, I believe,gave it to Mrs. Clear, and afterwards to the girl Rhoda. But of this Iam not sure."
"Who is Wrent?" asked Denzil, reserving the most important question forthe last.
"Wrent?" said Ferruci, smiling in a sneering way. "Ah! you wish to knowwho Wrent is? Well, excuse me for a few minutes, and I'll bring yousomething to show who he is."
With a nod to Lucian he passed into his bedroom, leaving the barristermuch astonished. He thought that Ferruci was Wrent himself, and had goneaway to resume the disguise of wig and beard. While he pondered thus theCount reappeared, carrying a small bottle in his hand.
"Mr. Denzil," said he, with a ghastly smile, "I have played a bold game,and, thanks to a woman's treachery, I have lost. I hoped to get twentythousand pounds and a charming wife; but I have gained nothing butpoverty and a chance of imprisonment; but I am of noble birth, and Iwill not survive my dishonour. You wish to know who Wrent is--you shallnever know."
He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, motionless with horror,could rush forward, and the next moment Count Ercole Ferruci was lyingdead on the floor.