CHAPTER XXXIII
WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY
Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death, this was the lastwhich Lucian expected to hear. He stood staring at the excited face ofthe detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment could not findhis voice.
"It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down and smoothing out thepaper which he carried. "Rhoda, and none other, killed the man!"
"Are you sure, Link?"
"Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, "is her dyingconfession."
"Her dying confession?" repeated the barrister blankly. "Is she dead,also?"
"Yes. It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down, and I'll tell it to you.As you have had so much to do with the beginning of the case, it is onlyfair that you should know the end, and a strange end it is."
Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite confused, for in no waycould he guess how Clear had come by his death at the hands of Rhoda. Hehad suspected Lydia as guilty of the crime; he had credited Ferruciwith its commission, and he had been certain of the guilt of Clyne,_alias_ Wrent; but to discover that the red-headed servant was theculprit entirely bewildered him. She had no motive to kill the man; shehad given evidence freely in the matter, and in all respects had actedas an innocent person. So this was why she had left Jersey Street? Itwas a fear of being arrested for the crime which had driven her into thewilds. But, as Lucian privately thought, she need not have fled, for--sofar as he could see--beyond the startling announcement of Link, therewas no evidence to connect her with the matter. It was mostextraordinary.
"I see you are astonished," said Link, with a nod; "so was I. Of allfolk, I least suspected that imp of a girl. The truth would never havebeen known, had she not confessed at the last moment; for even now Icannot see, on the face of it, any evidence--save her own confession--toinculpate her in the matter. So you see, Mr. Denzil, the mystery of thisman's death, which we have been so anxious to solve, has not beenexplained by you, or discovered by me, but has been brought to light bychance, which, after all, is the great detective. You may well lookastonished," repeated the man slowly; "I am--immensely."
"Let me hear the confession, Link!"
"Wait one moment. I'll tell you how it came to be made, and then I'llrelate the story in my own fashion, as the way in which the confessionis written is too muddled for you to understand clearly. Still, itshows plainly enough that Clyne, for all our suspicions, is innocent."
"And Rhoda, the sharp servant girl, guilty," said Lucian, reflectively."I never should have thought that she was involved in the matter. Howthe deuce did she come to confess?"
"Well," said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary to hisnarrative, "it seems that Mr. Bensusan, in a fit of philanthropy, pickedup this wretched girl in the country. She belonged to some gypsies, butas her parents were dead, and the child a burden, the tribe were glad toget rid of her. Rhoda Stanley--that is her full name--was taken toLondon by Mrs. Bensusan, who tried to civilise her."
"I don't think she succeeded very well, Link. Rhoda, with her cunningways and roaming about at night, was always a savage at heart. In spiteof what Clyne says in his confession, I believe she took a delight inturning No. 13 into a haunted house with her shrieking and her flittingcandles. How she must have enjoyed herself when she heard the talk aboutthe ghost!"
"I have no doubt she did, Mr. Denzil, but even those delights weariedher, and she longed to get back to the free gypsy life. When shefound--through you, sir--that the police wanted to know too much aboutClear's death, she left Mrs. Bensusan in the lurch, and tramped off downto the New Forest, where she picked up again with her tribe."
"How did her mistress take her desertion?"
"Very much to heart, as she had treated the young savage very kindly,and ought to have received more gratitude. Perhaps when she hears howher adopted child wandered about at night, and ended by killing Clear,she will be glad she is dead and buried. Yet, I don't know. Women arewonderfully soft-hearted, and certainly Rhoda is thought no end of bythat fat woman."
"Well! well!" said Lucian, impatient of this digression. "So Rhoda wentback to her tribe?"
"Yes, sir; and as she was sharp, clever, and, moreover, came with somemoney which she had stolen from Mrs. Bensusan--for she added theft toingratitude--she was received with open arms. With her gypsy cousins shewent about in the true gypsy style, but, not being hardened to theoutdoor life in wet weather, she fell ill."
"Civilisation made her delicate, I suppose," said Denzil grimly.
"Exactly; she was not fit for the tent life after having lived for solong under a comfortable roof. She fell ill with inflammation of thelungs, and in a wonderfully short space of time she died."
"When did she confess her crime?"
"I'm coming to that, sir. When she was dying she sent two gypsies to thenearest magistrate--who happened to be the vicar of the parish in whichthe tribe were then encamped--and asked him to see her on a matter oflife and death. The vicar came at once, and when he became aware thatRhoda was the girl wanted in the Vrain case--for he had read all abouther in the papers--he became very interested. He took down theconfession of the wretched girl, had it signed by two witnesses andRhoda herself, and sent it up to Scotland Yard."
"And this confession----"
"Here it is," said Link, pointing to the manuscript on the table; "butit is too long to read, so I shall just tell you briefly what Rhodaconfessed, and how she committed the crime."
"Go on! I am most anxious to hear, Link!"
"Well, Mr. Denzil, you know that Rhoda was in the habit of visiting No.13 by night and amusing herself by wandering about the empty rooms,although I don't know what pleasure she found in doing so. It seems thatwhen Clear became the tenant of the house, Rhoda was very angry, as hispresence interfered with her midnight capers. However, on seeing hisrooms--for Clear found her one night, and took her in to show them toher--she was filled with admiration, and with true gypsy instinct wantedto steal some of the ornaments. She tried to pocket a silver paper-knifeon that very night Clear was so hospitable to her, but she was not sharpenough, and the man saw the theft. In a rage at her dishonesty he turnedher out of the room, and swore that he would thrash her if she came intohis presence again."
"Did the threat keep Rhoda away?"
"Not it. I am sure you saw enough of that wildcat to know nothing wouldfrighten her. She certainly did not thrust herself personally on Clear,but whenever his back was turned she took to stealing things out of hisroom, when he was foolish enough to leave the door open. Clear was muchenraged, and complained to Clyne--known to Rhoda as Wrent--who in histurn read the girl a sharp lecture.
"But having shown Clyne the cellarway into the house, Miss Rhoda knewtoo much, and laughed in Clyne's face. He did not dare to make herthefts public, or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda should tell ofthe connection between him and the tenant of the Silent House, whopassed under the name of Berwin. Therefore, he told Clear to keep hissitting-room door locked."
"A wise precaution, with that imp about," said Lucian. "I hope Clear wassensible enough to adopt it."
"Yes, and no. When he was sober he locked the door, and when drunk heleft it open, and Rhoda looted at will. And now comes the more importantpart of the confession. You remember that Clyne left the stiletto fromBerwin Manor on Clear's table?"
"Yes, with the amiable intention that the poor devil should killhimself. He left it on Christmas Eve, too--a pleasant time for a man tocommit suicide!"
"Of course, the intention was horrible!" said Mr. Link, gravely. "Somepeople might think such an act incredible; but I have seen so much ofthe worst side of human nature that I am not surprised. Clyne was toocowardly to kill the man himself, so he thought to make Clear his ownexecutioner by leaving the stiletto in his way. Well, sir, the weaponproved to be useful in the way it was intended by Clyne, for Clear waskilled with that very weapon."
"And by Rhoda!" said Lucian, nodding. "I see! How did she get hold ofit?"
> "By accident. When Wrent--I mean Clyne--and Mrs. Bensusan went to bed onChristmas Eve, Rhoda thought she would have some of her devil dances inthe haunted house; so she slipped out of bed and into the yard, anddropped down into the cellar, whence she went up to Clear's rooms."
"Was Clear in bed?"
"No; but he was in his bedroom, and, according to Rhoda, furiouslydrunk. You know that Clyne said the man had been drinking all day. Onthis night he had left his sitting-room door open, and the lamp burning.On the table was the silver-handled stiletto, with the ribbon; and whenRhoda peered into the room to see what she could pick up, she thoughtshe would like this pretty toy. She stole forward softly and took thestiletto, but before she could get back to the door, Clear, who had beenwatching her, reeled out and rushed at her."
"Did she run away?"
"She couldn't. Clear was between her and the door. She ran round theroom, upsetting everything, for she thought he would kill her in hisdrunken rage. Don't you remember, Mr. Denzil, how disorderly the roomwas? Well, Clear got Rhoda into a corner, and was going to strike her;she had the stiletto still in her hand, and held it point outward tosave herself from the blow. She thought when he saw the weapon he wouldnot dare to come nearer. However, either he did not see the stiletto, orwas too drunk to feel fear, for he stumbled and fell forward, so thatthe dagger ran right into his heart. In a moment he fell dead, before hehad time, as Rhoda says, to even utter a cry."
"So it was an accident, after all?" said Lucian.
"Oh, yes, quite an accident," replied Link, "and I can see very plainlyhow it took place. Of course, Rhoda was terrified at what she haddone--although she really was not to blame--and leaving the dead man,ran away with the stiletto. She dropped the ribbon off it near thecellar door as she was running away, and there Mrs. Kebby found it."
"What did she do with the stiletto?"
"She had it in her room, and when she left Mrs. Bensusan she carried itwith her down the country. In proof of the truth, she gave it to thevicar who wrote down her confession, and he sent it up with the papersto Scotland Yard. Queer case, isn't it?"
"Very queer, Link. I thought everybody was guilty but Rhoda."
"Ah!" said the detective, significantly, "it is always the leastsuspected person who is guilty. I could have sworn that Clyne was theman. Now it seems that he is innocent, so instead of hanging he willonly be imprisoned for his share in the conspiracy."
"He may escape that way," said Lucian drily, "but, morally speaking, Iregard him as more guilty than Rhoda."
CHAPTER XXXIV
THE END OF IT ALL
Two years after the discovery of Rhoda's guilt, Mr. and Mrs. Denzil wereseated in the garden of Berwin Manor. It was a perfect summer evening,at the sunset hour, something like that evening when, in the samegarden, almost at the same time, Lucian had asked Diana to be his wife.But between then and now twenty-four months had elapsed, and many thingshad taken place of more or less importance to the young couple.
The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; Lydia had been set free asinnocent of crime; her father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain theassurance money, had been condemned to a long term of imprisonment, and,what most concerned Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and trulygone the way of all flesh.
After the conclusion of the Vrain case Lucian had become formallyengaged to Diana, but it was agreed between them that the marriageshould not take place for some time on account of her father's health.After his discharge as cured from the asylum of Dr. Jorce, Miss Vrainhad taken her father down to his own place in the country, and theretended him with the most affectionate solicitude, in the hope that hewould recover his health. But the hope was vain, for by hisover-indulgence in morphia, his worrying and wandering, and irregularmode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his health. He lapsed intoa state of second childhood, and, being deprived of the drugs whichformerly had excited him to a state of frenzy, sank into a pitiablecondition. For days he would remain without speaking to any one, andeven ceased to take a pleasure in his books. Finally his limbs becameparalysed, and so he spent the last few months of his wretched life in abath-chair, being wheeled round the garden.
Still, his constitution was so strong that he lived for quite twelvemonths after his return to his home, and died unexpectedly in his sleep.Diana was not sorry when he passed so easily away, for death was amerciful release of his tortured soul from his worn-out body. So MarkVrain died, and was buried, and after the funeral Diana went abroad,with Miss Priscilla Barbar for a companion.
In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky London, and worked hardat his profession. He was beginning to be known, and in time actuallyreceived a brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still, hewas far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be, for law, ofall professions, is one which demands time and industry for theattainment of any degree of excellence. It is rarely that a younglawyer can go to sleep and wake to find himself famous; he must crawlrather than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance of everychance, in time the wished-for goal is reached, although that goal, innine cases out of ten, is a very moderate distance off. Lucian did notsigh for a judgeship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content tobe a barrister with a good practice, and perhaps a Q.C.-ship inprospect. However, during the year of Diana's mourning he did so wellthat he felt justified in asking her to marry him when she returned.Diana, on her side, saw no obstacle to this course, so she consented.
"If you are not rich, my dear, I am," she said, when Lucian alleged hispoverty as the only bar to their union, "and as money gives me nopleasure without you, I do not care to stay in Berwin Manor in lonelyspinsterhood. I shall marry you whenever you choose."
And Lucian, taking advantage of this gracious permission, did choose tobe married, and that speedily; so within two years after the finalclosing of the Vrain case they became man and wife. At the time theywere seated in the garden, at the hour of sunset, they had only latelyreturned from their honeymoon, and were now talking over pastexperiences. Miss Priscilla, who had been left in charge of the Manorduring their absence, had welcomed them back with much joy, as shelooked upon the match as one of her own making. Now she had gone inside,on the understanding that two are company and three are none, and theyoung couple were left alone. Hand in hand, after the foolish fashion oflovers, they sat under a leafy oak tree, and the sunlight glowed redlyon their happy faces. After a short silence Lucian looked at the face ofhis wife and laughed.
"What is amusing you, dear?" said Mrs. Denzil, with a sympathetic smile.
"My thoughts were rather pleasant than amusing," replied Lucian, givingthe hand that lay in his a squeeze, "but I was thinking of HansAndersen's tale of the Elder Mother Tree, and of the old couple who satenjoying their golden wedding under the linden, with the red sunlightshining on their silver crowns."
"We are under an oak and wear no crowns," replied Diana in her turn,"but we are quite as happy, I think, although it is not our goldenwedding."
"Perhaps that will come some day, Diana."
"Fifty years, my dear; it's a long way off yet," said Mrs. Denzildubiously.
"I am glad it is, for I shall have (D.V.,) fifty years of happiness withyou to look forward to. Upon my word, Diana, I think you deservehappiness, after all the trouble you have had."
"With you I am sure to be happy, Lucian, but other people, poor souls,are not so well off."
"What other people?"
"Jabez Clyne, for one."
"My dear," said Lucian, seriously, "I hope I am not a hard man, but Ireally cannot find it in my heart to pity Clyne. He was--and I dare sayis--a scoundrel!"
"I don't deny that he acted badly," sighed Diana, "but it was for hisdaughter's sake, you know."
"There is a limit even to paternal affection, Diana. And putting asidethe wickedness of the whole conspiracy, I cannot pardon a man whodeliberately put a weapon in the way of a man almost insane with drink,in order that he might kill himself. The idea was diabolicall
y wicked,my dear, and I think that Jabez Clyne, _alias_ Wrent, quite deserves thelong imprisonment he received."
"At all events, the Sirius Company got back their money, Lucian."
"So much as Lydia had not spent they got back, Diana; but when yourfather actually died they had to part with it very soon again, and someof it has gone into Lydia's pocket after all."
Diana blushed. "It was only right, dear," she said, apologetically."When my father made his new will, leaving it all to me, I did not thinkthat Lydia, however badly she treated him, should be left absolutelypenniless. And you know, Lucian, you agreed that I should share theassurance money with her."
"I did," replied Denzil. "Of two evils I chose the least, for if Lydiahad not got a portion of the money she would have been quite capable oftrying to upset the second will on the ground that Mr. Vrain wasinsane."
"Papa was not insane," reproved Diana. "He was weak, I admit, but atthe time he made that will he had all his senses. Besides, after all thescandal of the case, I don't think Lydia would have dared to go to lawabout it. Still, it was best to give her the money, and I hear from MissPriscilla that Lydia is now in Italy, and proposes to marry an Italianprince."
"She has flown higher than a count, then. Poor Ferruci killed himselffor her sake."
"For his own, rather," exclaimed Mrs. Denzil energetically. "He knewthat if he lived he would be punished by imprisonment, so chose to killhimself rather than suffer such dishonour. I believe he truly lovedLydia, certainly, but as he wanted the assurance money, I fancy hesinned quite as much for his own sake as for Lydia's."
"No doubt; and I dare say Lydia loved him, after her own fashion; yetshe seems to have forgotten him pretty soon, and--as you say--intends tomarry a prince. I don't envy his highness."
"She has no heart, so I dare say she will be happy as such women everare," said Diana contemptuously, "yet her happiness comes out of muchevil. If she had not married my father, her own would not now be inprison, nor would Count Ferruci and Rhoda be dead."
"Ferruci, perhaps, might still be alive, and her husband," assentedLucian, "but I have my doubts about Rhoda. She was a wicked, precociouslittle imp, that girl, and sooner or later would have come to a bad end.The death of Clear was due to an accident, I admit; but Rhoda has stillone person who laments over her, for, although Mrs. Bensusan knows thetruth, she always thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr,who was led into wicked ways by Clyne, _alias_ Wrent."
"I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so."
"Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about in remembering hownarrowly she escaped imprisonment for her share in that shamefulconspiracy. If she had not turned Queen's evidence, she would have beenpunished as Clyne was; as it is, she just escaped by an accident. Still,if it had not been for her, we should never have discovered the truth. Iwould never have suspected Clyne, who was always so meek and mild. Eventhat visit he paid to me to lament over his daughter's probable marriageto Ferruci was a trick to find out how much I knew."
"Don't you think he hated Ferruci?"
"No; I am sure he did not. He acted a part to find out what I was doing.If Mrs. Clear had not betrayed him we should never have discovered theconspiracy."
"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's death would neverhave been solved," said Diana, "although she only confessed at theeleventh hour, and when she was dying."
"I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved in so unexpected away," said Lucian, laughing. "He never forgave my finding out so muchwithout his aid. He ascribes the ending of the whole matter to chance,and I dare say he is right."
"H'm!" said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great love for the detective. "Hecertainly left everything to chance. Twice he gave up the case.".
"And twice I gave it up," said Denzil. "If it had not been for you,dear, I should never have gone on with what seemed to be a hopelesstask. But when I first met you you induced me to continue the search forthe culprit, and again when, by the evidence of the missing finger, youdid not believe your father was dead."
"Well, you worked; I worked; Link worked," said Diana, philosophically,"and we all three did our best to discover the truth."
"Only to let chance discover it in the long run."
Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict her husband. "Well, mydear," she said, "I think we have discussed the subject pretty freely,but there is one thing I should like to know. What about the SilentHouse in Pimlico?"
"Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that Peacock is going to pull itdown. You know, just before we were married I took leave of Miss Greeb,with whom I lodged for a long time. Well, she gave me a piece of news.She is going to be married, also, and to whom, do you think?"
"I don't know," said Diana, looking interested, as women always do inmarriage news.
"To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property in and about GenevaSquare. It will be a splendid match for her, and Mrs. Peacock, will bemuch richer than you or I, Diana."
"But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is to be married, as she seemeda nice woman, and made you very comfortable. But why is the Silent Houseto be pulled down?"
"Because no one will live in it."
"But it is not haunted now. You know it was discovered that Rhoda wasthe ghost, and the ghost, as Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear."
"It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear," said Lucian gravely. "At allevents, he was murdered there, and no one cares to live in the house. Iconfess I shouldn't care to live in it myself. So, Peacock, finding thehouse unprofitable, has determined to pull it down."
"So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico," said Diana, risingand taking her husband's arm. "Come inside, Lucian. It grows chilly."
"'Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear, Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,'"
quoted Lucian, as they went up to the house. "That is not very goodpoetry, but it is a beautiful truth, my love."
Diana laughed, and looked up proudly into the bright face of herhusband.
So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla had made the tea, andall were very happy, and very thankful for their happiness. In thiscondition, which is sufficiently pleasant, I think we may leave them.
THE END
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