CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A NEW ASPECT OF THINGS.
TAIT folded over the last sheet of this long letter with a sigh.Although he was pleased for Claude's sake that George Larcher was stillin the land of the living, yet he was distinctly disappointed that nocommunication had been made likely to elucidate the mystery. Yet theresult of this confession was an entire displacement of the point whenceit was necessary to survey the case. The motives which had caused thesupposed death of Larcher would not suffice to explain the death ofJeringham. The case had assumed a new aspect, but nevertheless it was ascomplex and inexplicable as ever. Tait thought of all this withinconceivable rapidity, but did not give utterance to his opinion in thepresence of his friend.
"The letter is wonderful, so far," was his sole remark, "but it is agreat pity that it ends so abruptly. I suppose your father willpersonally relate all other details, Claude, when you see him again."
The young man assumed a sitting position, and deliberately finished hiswine before replying to this remark. He looked anxious and disturbed,and, now that he had recovered from the overwhelming surprise at findinghis father alive, seemed less delighted than he should have been. Amiracle had been wrought in his behalf; the dead had been restored tolife; but he was by no means gratified by the occurrence.
"I don't know whether I shall see my father again," he said shortly.
"But, my dear friend----"
"Oh, I know all you would say," interrupted Claude hastily, with afrown; "but I am not prepared to admit your arguments. My mother isalive, my father is in existence, yet for twenty-five years I havelooked on them as dead. Can you, then, wonder that I feel awkward towardthem both; that I am by no means disposed to render them that filialaffection which, you must admit, they but ill deserve?"
"The question is so delicate that I can only hold my peace," said Tait,after a pause. "I admit what you say. Still they are your own flesh andblood."
"I might answer you as _Hamlet_ did on a like occasion," replied Claude,with a bitter smile; "but a quotation will not mend matters. What I haveto consider is the advisability of seeing my father again."
"You must certainly see him again," said the other promptly.
"Why?"
"In the first place he is your father, whatever you may say, and in thesecond you had better tell him personally that you abandon furtherinvestigation of the case. After all, your object is gone; for thoughyou might want to avenge the death of a parent, the murder of a scamplike Jeringham can matter nothing to you."
"Oh, that I abandon the case goes without speaking," said Claudequickly, "and you----"
"I act in the same way. The further we go into the case the moreperplexing does it become. It is beyond me. Only at the Last Day willthe mystery be solved. Still," added Tait meditatively, "I must admit acuriosity yet exists on my part to know who struck the blow. Of courseyour father's story corroborates Dicky Pental's, but the gardenermistook him for Jeringham by reason of the fancy dress."
"Does this letter suggest anything to you?"
"It narrows the field of inquiry, that is all. Your mother, your father,and Denis Bantry must necessarily be innocent, as they were in the housewhen the murder took place in the garden."
"If they are innocent, who is guilty?"
"We have a choice of two who were outside at the time. You can choosebetween Hilliston and Mona Bantry."
"Mona Bantry kill her lover! How do you make that out?"
"You forget your father's account of the scene in the sitting room,"said Tait significantly; "then Mrs. Larcher asserted in the presence ofMona that she had come with Jeringham, furthermore, that he was in thegarden. Mona, also jealous, acts as any other woman would have done insuch a position. She goes into the garden to demand an explanation;there is a quarrel between her and Jeringham, and she kills him, thenflies, not to hide her disgrace, but to evade the consequences of heract. That is a feasible theory, I think."
Claude shook his head. "I don't agree with you," he said emphatically."You forget that we have my mother's account of the matter to placeagainst that of my father's. If you recollect she also admitted findingmy father and Mona in the sitting room; she also admits fainting, butthere all resemblance between the accounts ceases. My mother distinctlysays that she threatened her husband with the dagger, that it fell onthe floor when she lost her senses. When she recovered them the daggerwas gone. Now," continued Claude slowly, "if you remember, the crime wascommitted by means of the dagger, for it was found red with blood in thegrounds, and then was taken possession of by the police. If my mother'saccount is the true one, Mona Bantry may certainly have picked up thedagger and have murdered Jeringham, as you suggest. But if my father'sstory is to be believed, Mona left the room before my mother fainted,and consequently could not have gained possession of the dagger. Itfollows as a natural consequence that she could not have committed themurder."
Tait nodded several times during this explanation, to show that heagreed with the points raised; but when Claude concluded he rubbed hischin in some perplexity.
"Here we come to a dead stop," said he impatiently. "It was asserted bythe police that the murder was committed with the dagger worn by yourmother as part of the fancy dress."
"Yes! If you remember, it was on that evidence she was arrested."
"Well, if she wore that dagger in the sitting room, Jeringham could nothave been killed with it, because the murder must have taken place whileyour father was trying to pacify your mother."
Claude glanced at the letter again. "My father makes no mention of thedagger in this," he said, with a puzzled look.
"No. I should like to hear what he has to say on the subject, the moreso as I incline to his story rather than to your mother's."
"For what reason?"
"In her conversation with you, Mrs. Bezel--or rather your mother--saidthat she had threatened your father with the dagger in the sitting roomof The Laurels."
"Yes. Well?"
"If you remember the evidence given by her to the police at the time ofthe arrest was that she had lost the dagger at the ball, and knew notinto whose hands it had fallen."
Claude looked nonplussed, and knew not what answer to make. That hismother had made two different statements he was compelled to admit. Hefurther remembered that his father had made no statement whatsoeverabout the dagger. Yet on the possession of that dagger turned the wholeof the case. Whoever picked it up, whether at the ball or in the sittingroom, must have killed Jeringham. Assuming his father's account to betrue, and Claude saw no reason to doubt its accuracy, Mona could nothave committed the murder, nor could Mr. or Mrs. Larcher be guilty. Ittherefore followed that his mother had spoken truly to the police, andfor some inexplicable reason falsely to him. The dagger must have beenlost at the ball, and picked up by--whom?
"I can make nothing of it," he said, after due consideration. "The onlyway to get at the truth is to tell my father that his wife still lives,and bring them together. Out of their meeting good may come."
"You will then call and see your father," said Tait encouragingly.
"Yes. I must. I see no way out of it. He must be informed that my motherlives, and I am the proper person to tell him so. Though it is strange,"added Claude suddenly, "that Hilliston never told him."
"Humph! That gentleman seems to serve both sides," said Tait gruffly."Your mother speaks well of him, your father thinks no end of him, andboth trust him, yet for what I can see he has deceived both."
"How?"
"Why, by keeping back the truth from each. He has let your father thinkyour mother dead, and _vice versa_. What do you make of that?"
"I tell you I can make nothing of the whole confusion," said Claudecrossly. "I will see my father and abandon the case, for I am sick ofthe affair. It is maddening. What a pity your lunatic did not wake up afew minutes earlier so as to see who struck the blow and thus havesettled the matter? But it is not that which troubles me."
; "No? What else disturbs your mind?"
"Jenny."
"Jenny?" echoed Tait, with feigned simplicity. "I am afraid I am dull. Idon't see."
"You must be blind, then," retorted Claude, in an exasperated tone. "Youknow I love Jenny."
"Well?"
"Well, I can't love her. She is my half sister."
"Indeed!" said Tait, in nowise astonished at this announcement. "How doyou make that out?"
"Why, isn't Jenny the daughter of Paynton, and isn't he my father?"
"He is your father, certainly, but I assure you Jenny is not hisdaughter. She is no relation to him."
"Tait! what do you mean?"
"Can't you guess?"
"No. Out with it, man! Don't keep me in suspense."
"Why," drawled Tait, enjoying the situation. "Jenny is the niece ofDenis--in other words, she is the child of Mona Bantry and Jeringham."