CHAPTER XXVIII
THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN
That afternoon London was ringing with the news of Ferruci's suicide;but no paper could give any reason for the rash act. This inability wasdue to the police, who, anxious to capture those concerned in theconspiracy to obtain the assurance money of the Sirius Company, kepteverything they could out of the papers, lest Lydia and Wrent should beput on their guard, and so escape.
Lucian had been forced to report the death of Ferruci to theauthorities. Now the case was out of his hands again, and in those ofLink, who blamed the young barrister severely for not having brought himinto the matter before. The detective was always more prone to blamethan to praise.
"But what could I do?" cried Lucian angrily. "You threw up the casetwice! You said the assassin of Clear--or, as you thought, Vrain--wouldnever be discovered!"
"I did my best, and failed," retorted Link, who did not like hisposition. "You have had better luck and have succeeded."
"My luck has been sheer hard work, Link. I was not so faint-hearted asyou, to draw back at the first check."
"Well, well, the whole truth hasn't been discovered yet, Mr. Denzil. Asyou have found out this conspiracy, I may learn who the assassin is."
"We know that already. The assassin is Wrent."
"You have yet to prove that."
"I?" said Lucian, with disdain. "I prove nothing. I wash my hands of thewhole affair. You are a detective; let me see what you will make of acase which has baffled you twice!" and Denzil, with rage in his heart,went off, laughing at the discomfiture of Link.
At that moment the detective hated his successful rival with his wholeheart.
Lucian took a hansom to the Royal John Hotel in Kensington, where Diana,in a great state of alarm, was reading the evening papers, whichcontained short notices of Ferruci's death. On seeing her lover, shehurried forward anxiously and caught him by the hand.
"Lucian, I am so glad you have come!" she cried, leading him to a chair."I sent messages both to Geneva Square and Sergeant's Inn, but you wereneither at your lodgings nor in your office."
"I was better employed, my dear," said Lucian, with a weary sigh, for hewas quite worn out with fatigue and anxiety. "I have been with Link,telling him about Ferruci's death, and being blamed as the cause ofit."
"You blamed! And why?" said Diana, with just indignation.
"Because I forced Ferruci to confess the truth, and when he saw thatthere was every chance of his being put into jail for his villainy, hewent to his bedroom and took poison. You know, Mrs. Clear said the manwas something of a chemist, so I suppose he prepared the poison himself.It was very swift in its action, for he dropped dead before I couldrecover my presence of mind."
"Lucian! this is terrible!" cried Diana, wringing her hands.
"You may well say that," he replied gloomily. "Now the whole details ofthe case will be in the papers, and that unfortunate woman will bearrested."
"Lydia! And what will her father say? It will break his heart!"
"Perhaps; but he must take the consequences of having brought up hisdaughter so badly. Still," added Lucian, reflectively, "I do not believethat Lydia is so guilty as Wrent. That scoundrel seems to be at thebottom of the affair. Ferruci and he contrived and carried out the wholething between them, and a precious pair of villains they are."
"Will Wrent be arrested?"
"If he can be found; but I fancy the scoundrel has made himself scarceout of fright. Since he left Jersey Street, after the murder, he has notbeen heard of. Even Mrs. Clear does not know where he is. You know shehas put advertisements in the papers in the cypher he gaveher--according to the arrangement between them--but Wrent has not turnedup."
"And Rhoda?"
"Rhoda is still missing. The police are getting warrants out for theservant, for Wrent, for Mrs. Clear, and for Lydia Vrain. Ferruci,luckily for himself and his family, has escaped the law by his own act.It was the wisest thing the scoundrel could do to kill himself and avoiddishonour. I must admit the man had pluck."
"It is terrible! terrible! What will be the end of it?"
"Imprisonment for the lot, I expect, unless they can prove that Wrentmurdered Clear; then they will hang him. But now that Ferruci is dead, Ifancy Rhoda is the only witness who can prove Wrent's guilt. That is whyshe ran away. I don't wonder she was afraid to stay. But I feel quiteworn out with all this, Diana. Please give me a biscuit and a glass ofport; I have had nothing all day."
With a sigh, Diana touched the bell, and when the waiter made hisappearance gave the order. She felt low-spirited and nervous, in spiteof the discovery that her father was alive and well; and indeed theextraordinary events of the last few days were sufficient to upset thestrongest mind.
Lucian was leaning back in his chair with closed eyes, for his head wasaching with the excitement of the morning. Suddenly he opened them andjumped up. At the same time Diana threw open the door with anexclamation, and both of them heard the thin, high voice of a woman, whoapparently was coming up the stairs.
"Never mind my name," said the voice, "I'll tell it to Miss Vrainmyself. Take me to her at once."
"Lydia!" called Lucian, "and here? Great heavens! Why does she comehere?"
Diana said nothing, but compressed her lips as Lydia, followed by thewaiter with the biscuits and wine, came into the room. She was plainlyand neatly dressed, and wore a heavy veil, but seemed greatly excited.She did not say a word, nor did Diana, until the waiter left the roomand closed the door. Then she threw up her veil, revealing a haggardface and red eyes, swollen with weeping, and filled with an expressionof terror.
"Sakes alive! isn't this awful?" she wailed, making a clutch at MissVrain's arm. "You've done it, this time, Diana. Ferruci's dead, and yourfather alive, and I'm not a widow, and my father away I don't knowwhere! I was told that the police were after me, so I'm clearing out."
"Clearing out, Mrs. Vrain?" repeated Diana, stiffly.
"I should think so!" sobbed Lydia. "I don't want to stay and be put ingaol, though what I've done to be put in gaol for, I don't know."
"What?" cried Lucian indignantly. "You don't know--when this abominableconspiracy is----"
"I know nothing of the conspiracy," interrupted Lydia.
"Did you not get Ferruci to put your husband into an asylum?"
"I? I did nothing of the sort. I thought my husband was dead and burieduntil Ferruci told me the truth, and then I held my tongue until I couldthink of what to do. After Ercole died, his servant came round and toldme all--he overheard the conversation you had with the Count, Mr.Denzil. I was never so astonished in my life as to hear about Mrs. Clearand her husband--and Mark alive--and--and--oh, Lord! isn't it dreadful?Give me a glass of wine, Diana, or I'll go right off in a dead faint!"
In silence Miss Vrain poured out a glass of port and handed it to herstepmother, who sipped it in a most tearful mood. Lucian looked at thewretched little woman without saying a word, and wondered if, indeed,she was as innocent as she made herself out to be. He thought that,after all, she might be ignorant of Ferruci's plots, although she hadcertainly benefited by them; but she was such a glib liar that he didnot know how much to believe of her story. However, she had hithertoonly given a general idea of her connection with the matter, so when shehad finished her wine, and was somewhat calmer, Lucian begged her to bemore explicit.
"Did you know--did you guess, or even suspect--that your husband wasalive?"
"Mr. Denzil," said Lydia, with unusual solemnity, "as I'm a marriedwoman, and not the widow I thought I was, I did not know that Mark wasalive! I'm bad, I daresay, but I am not bad enough to shut a man up in alunatic asylum and pretend he is dead, just to get money, much as I likeit. What I did about identifying the corpse was done in good faith."
"You really thought it was my father's body?" questioned Dianadoubtfully.
"I swear I did," responded Mrs. Vrain, emphatically. "Mark walked out ofthe house because he thought I was carrying on with Ferruci, which Iwasn't. It was
that Tyler cat who made the trouble between us, and Markwas so weak and silly--half crazy, I think, with his morphia andover-study--that he cleared right out, and I never knew where he hadgone to. When I saw that notice about the murdered man in Geneva Square,who called himself Berwin, and was marked on the cheek, I thought hemight be my husband. When the coffin was opened, I really believed I sawpoor Mark's dead body. The face was just like his, and scarred in thesame way."
"What about the missing finger, Mrs. Vrain? If I remember, you even gavea cause for its loss."
"Well, it was this way," replied Lydia, somewhat discomposed. "I knewthat Mark hadn't lost a finger when he left, but Ferruci said that if Idenied it the police might refuse to believe that the body was that ofmy husband. So, as I was sure it was Mark's corpse, I just said he hadlost a finger out West. I didn't think there was any harm in saying so,as for all I knew he might have got it chopped off after leaving me. Butthe face of the dead man was--as I thought--Mark's, and he calledhimself Berwin, which, you know, Diana, is the name of the Manor, andthe scar was on the cheek. I know now it was all contrived by Ercole;but then I was quite ignorant."
"When did you find out the truth?"
"After that cloak business. Ferruci came to me, and I told him what thatgirl at Baxter's had said, and insisted that he should tell me thetruth. Well, he did, in order to force me to marry him, and then I toldhim to go and make it right with the girl, so that when Mr. Denzil wentagain she'd deny that Ercole had bought the cloak."
"She denied it, sure enough," said Lucian grimly. "Ferruci, before hedied, told me he had bribed her to speak falsely. What more did theCount reveal to you, Mrs. Vrain?--the conspiracy?"
"Yes. He said he'd found Mark hiding at Salisbury, half mad withmorphia, and had taken him up to Mrs. Clear's, where it seems he wentmad altogether, so they locked him up as her husband in a lunaticasylum. Ferruci also told me that he had seen Michael Clear on thestage, and that as he was so like Mark, and was likely to die of drinkand consumption, he got him to play the part of Mark in Geneva Square,under the name of Berwin. Mrs. Clear visited her husband there byclimbing over a back fence, and getting down a cellar, somehow."
"I know that," said Lucian. "It was Mrs. Clear's shadow I saw on theblind. She was fighting with her husband, and when I rang the bell theywere both so alarmed that they left the house by the back way and gotinto Jersey Street. Then Mrs. Clear went home, and the man himself cameround into the Square by the front way. That was how I met him. Iwondered how people were in the house during his absence. Mrs. Cleartold me all."
"Did she say why her husband made you examine the house?" asked Diana.
"No. But I expect he made me do so that I should not have my suspicionsabout that back entrance. But, Mrs. Vrain, when Ferruci confessed thatyour husband was alive, why did you not tell it to the world?"
"Well, I'd got the assurance money, you see," said Lydia, with shrewdcandour, "and I thought the company would make a fuss and take itback--as I suppose they will now. Ferruci wanted me to marry him, but Iwasn't so bad as that. I did not want to commit bigamy. But I reallyheld my tongue because Ferruci told me who killed Clear."
"He knew, then?" cried Lucian, "and denied it to me! Who killed theman?"
"Wrent did--the man who lived in Jersey Street."
"And who is at the bottom of the whole plot!" said Lucian furiously."Do you know where he is to be found?"
"Yes," said Lydia boldly, "I do; but I'm not going to tell where he is!"
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want him punished."
"But I do," said Diana angrily. "He is a wretch who ought to suffer!"
"Very well," said Lydia, loudly and spitefully, "then make him suffer,for this Wrent is your own father! It was Mark who killed MichaelClear!"