CHAPTER XVII
MAUD'S INHERITANCE
There was a lull in the political and social worlds when Herries was captured. The newspapers had said all that they could say regarding past events, and nothing especial was happening worth prattling about. The "Marsh Inn" case, with its strong element of mystery and its spice of romance, proved to be a godsend in the way of "copy." Consequently, hordes of eager reporters poured into Tarhaven, whither Inspector Trent had conducted his prisoner after the arrest at Anderfield in Bucks. The facts that Herries was Sir Simon's nephew--for the late knight was no unimportant figure in the commercial-millionaire world--that he had inherited fifty thousand a year, and that he had been taken by the police, when issuing from the village church immediately after his marriage, made the whole case immensely interesting. Also the mystery of the murder lifted it out of the category of ordinary crime. It was well-known that the prisoner declared himself to be innocent, and everyone wondered what possible defence he could make.
Trent himself did not know, as, by the advice of shrewd-headed Kind, the young man preserved an irritating silence, and the Rev. Michael Gowrie, wishing to make a dramatic announcement at a dramatic moment, kept his own counsel. That Herries might be exonerated never entered the Inspector's head for one moment, and he gathered together all procurable evidence so as to secure the committal of the prisoner by the local magistrate. And as various hints--which might have been traced to Gowrie--were given to the public that strange revelations might be expected, everyone was on tip-toe with excitement. Sir Simon had been a great magnate in Tarhaven, and it was natural that his death should arouse the deepest interest. The more so, as it was now commonly reported that, far from explaining the facts of the death and the motive for what looked like a purposeless crime, the evidence at the magisterial trial would probably deepen the mystery.
In their frantic efforts to get at the truth, and narrate highly-coloured tales to their readers, several reporters attempted to interview Mrs. Herries, formerly Miss Elspeth Gowrie. By the advice of Sweetlips, the girl saw one of these enterprising young journalists who belonged to a half-penny paper with the very largest circulation in the world. Kind instructed her to tell the truth, even to the concealment in the caravan, as he thought that, if public sympathy could be awakened for the lovers, Herries would stand a better chance of acquittal. There was some risk in being thus explicit, as the Cheap-jack ran a deadly chance of being arrested as an accomplice after the fact. Were Herries condemned he would probably be so arrested, and Elspeth along with him. But before instructing Elspeth, Sweetlips had privately interviewed the old Scotch tutor, and from him had extracted the evidence which, as he averred, would save Herries from the gallows at the eleventh hour. Elspeth herself did not know what this evidence could be, but the fact that Kind was willing to risk his liberty on the strength of it, made her very cheerful, as it pointed to the certain discharge of Angus.
When the unvarnished tale came out in _The Morning Planet_, it made an undeniable sensation, and Elspeth became the heroine of the hour. The sudden love of the girl, the way in which she had proved that love by rescuing the man she believed to be innocent from the hands of the prejudiced police, the strange wooing in the caravan, and the saving of Rachel Kind from a terrible death by the timely arrival of Herries,--all these things smacked of romance, and people now began to believe, in spite of all evidence to the contrary, that Angus Herries was innocent. No man so loved could be guilty--no scoundrel could awaken such devotion in the heart of a timid, unformed girl. One and all, the women, high and low, of the three kingdoms ranged themselves on the side of Mrs. Herries, and not a few men followed their lead, as was natural. Kind's belief proved to be right. After the publication of the statement in _The Morning Planet_, the case became more interesting than ever, and everyone sympathised with the unlucky married pair.
Dr. Browne invited Gowrie and his daughter to stop at his house, and his servants were occupied to the very day of the trial in keeping away people from the door. And when Elspeth walked abroad she was pointed at, snap-shotted, admired, and discussed in a way, which showed that her heroic conduct,--as _The Morning Planet_ called it,--had won her a warm place in the heart of the public. In several papers her portrait appeared, she was asked to write an account of her early life, there was some talk of getting up a subscription on her behalf, since it was known that she was horribly poor,--and in every way, people showed their sympathy. Mrs. Herries was the lioness of the hour, and had she been single would undoubtedly have received many offers of marriage. As it was, her devotion to her unfortunate husband made her the talk of England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.
Elspeth did not like this publicity, as she was retiring by nature, but she bore it all for the sake of Angus. Undoubtedly it would aid him in his defence, and probably would help to save his life. To do that she would have sacrificed herself ten times over and in a much more terrible way. But further sacrifice was needless, Herries was now,--so to speak,--under the protection of the British public, and everyone was certain that he would have a fair trial. Many even went so far as to say that he would be acquitted, but Inspector Trent laughed these prophets to scorn. Herries was guilty,--the evidence proved that he was guilty,--and in assisting him to escape, both his wife and the Cheap-jack had thwarted the ends of justice. When the prisoner was committed for trial, said Trent, he would see about arresting Kind, as an accomplice after the fact. But even Trent did not dare to hint that Elspeth might be arrested. To put her in prison would have provoked a storm from the public which no one in authority would risk.
One person was intensely disgusted at the elevation of young Mrs. Herries into a heroine, and that was Maud Tedder. On hearing of the arrest of her cousin, she had expressed great joy, and in his condemnation she saw the chance of recovering her father's property. Not only did she want the money, but she also desired to re-capture Captain Bruce Kyles; a wary bird, only to be lived by golden grain. After he had heard the will read, and had discovered that it could not be upset, he had returned to the "Tarabacca" at Pierside, and beyond a few cold notes had refrained from paying her any attention. In effect he showed that, now she was poor he did not intend to marry her, and after Gowrie's hint, Maud was certain that the Captain was engaged to Señora Guzman. She had been made a catspaw of, and if Herries was not hanged and Kyles re-captured to be her husband, she had fully made up her spiteful mind to revenge herself. However, since there were difficulties in the way, she called to see Elspeth and propose a compromise. It might be, as Maud argued, that Angus would not be condemned, especially after the statement of _The Morning Planet_, therefore, it was worth while to gain half, if not the whole fortune.
Mrs. Herries was alone in the doctor's drawing-room, a very masculine-looking apartment, unworthy of the name. Browne was absent, seeing his patients. Kind, who usually haunted the house, was taking Rachel round Tarhaven to buy goods for the caravan, and the Reverend Michael Gowrie was where he often was, in the nearest public-house, drinking at other people's expense, and advertising himself as the father of the famous Mrs. Angus Herries. The old man managed to procure many cheap drinks in this way, but no one ever got out of him, even in his most convivial moments, what evidence he proposed to give in order to save his son-in-law.
Elspeth remained within doors for a certain reason. After hearing Kind's account of his visit to the "Tarabacca," she became certain that Señora Guzman was in possession of facts which might help to prove the innocence of her husband. Since Sir Simon had written that mysterious letter to someone on the yacht, why not to this Captain Kidd in petticoats? Then there was the hint of the treasure--Manco Capac's treasure--which Kind professed himself unable to understand. And Kyles himself might know something. By awakening the jealousy of the Mexican beauty, the truth might be arrived at concerning the kidnapping of Armour, and that, as Elspeth argued, was in some way connected with the death of Sir Simon Tedder. After all, as Señora Guzman had hinted to Kind, it might be simply a political crime, in which case, Donna Maria would have the less hesitation in telling the plain facts of the assassination. Taking all these facts into consideration, Mrs. Herries had written to Señora Guzman asking her to call at Tarhaven and have a chat, and the Mexican lady had graciously assented to the request. When Miss Tedder's card was brought in Elspeth saw in her arrival much more than a mere chance. Providence had brought the two women who loved Bruce Kyles into contact, and the possible quarrel between the two might result in the truth becoming known. Of course Elspeth was groping in the dark, as she did not yet see what Maud, or Señora Guzman, or Bruce Kyles, could have to do with the murder; but that they had something to do with the death of the millionaire she was very certain; and therefore was ready to take every advantage of Miss Tedder's visit.
Maud came alone, as she did not wish even Mrs. Mountford to hear what she had to say to the woman who had married her cousin. When she entered the room, and Elspeth arose to receive her, she stopped short in surprise. Was this frail, delicate-looking girl with the white face and the pathetic eyes the heroine about whom such a fuss was being made? She did not look as though she could plan anything, much less carry out a daring scheme; yet it was owing to her that Herries had escaped at a critical moment. But Maud, judging by the flesh and not by the spirit, looked at the shrinking girl contemptuously, and promised herself an easy victory. She sat down with an insolent air, and stared hard at her rival.
On her side, Elspeth was eager to see Maud, knowing that Angus had once loved her. Mrs. Herries admitted the doll-like prettiness of the millionaire's daughter, but could not understand how a man like her husband could have loved so soulless a being. Miss Tedder was beautifully dressed, and looked extremely pretty; but she certainly was not a girl to awaken passion of any sort in a man. In a way, Elspeth was as contemptuous of Maud as Maud was of her, and so the two commenced their interview with a mutual misunderstanding.
"I am Angus Herries' cousin," said Miss Tedder sharply, sitting bolt upright, and keeping her hands in her muff; then when Elspeth simply nodded, she added, "And you are his wife?"
Elspeth bowed again.
"Why have you come here?" she asked quietly.
The Dresden-china beauty laughed.
"To see the woman who has taken my leavings," she said insolently.
"You see her," replied Mrs. Herries calmly. "Well?"
This behaviour disconcerted Maud. She would have preferred Elspeth to have risen in a royal rage, but the girl was perfectly calm, and would supply no fuel for burning.
"I don't think much of you," she snapped, with a hard stare.
"Really? Did you come to tell me this?"
"Partly, and also to congratulate you that Angus will be hanged."
Elspeth started and clasped her hands tightly to prevent herself getting into a passion.
"Why do you think that is a matter of congratulation?" she demanded, in a choked voice.
"Because he's a beast," burst out Maud, losing her temper in the face of this coolness, "he was once engaged to me and treated me shamefully."
"No, he did not. He treated you only too kindly."
"What do you know about it?"
"All that Angus could tell me."
"Ah. He had to make his own case good."
"There was no need to with me," said Elspeth coldly, but a spot of vivid red burned on each cheek. "I know Angus well."
"But not so well as I do," cried Miss Tedder, anxious to break down her companion's composure. "Angus made me love him, and then left me all alone. He broke my heart," this with a truly effective sob.
"Rubbish," said Elspeth, rising quickly. "Say that to a man and not to another woman. Angus had a passing fancy for you, and you threw him over at the bidding of your father."
"He had more than a fancy. He adored me."
"Then why did he leave you?"
"Papa would not let me marry him; but if Angus had remained true to me, I should have remained true to him."
"Instead of taking up with Captain Bruce Kyles, I suppose," sneered Elspeth, resolved to sting in her turn.
Maud started to her feet in a fury.
"How dare you talk to me like this? You who are no better than a servant, and who will soon be a murderer's widow."
"No," cried Mrs. Herries imperatively, and facing the other girl boldly, "I intend to save my husband's life."
"You can't do it without me."
"You," Elspeth turned like a tigress on her visitor, "what do you know about it?"
Maud felt rather afraid when this fragile girl flashed out in this way.
"I know that Angus is guilty," she said obstinately.
"Then how can you save him?"
"I can get some one to give evidence that he is innocent."
"Who?"
"I'll tell you--on conditions."
"Oh, on conditions. And what are they?"
"My father," explained Maud calmly, "left all his money, save a miserable thousand a year, to Angus. That is not fair."
"I can offer no opinion on that point," rejoined Elspeth, in an equally cool manner. "The will was none of my making. But if you wanted to inherit the money, you should have given up this Captain Kyles, as your father wished."
"I won't and I didn't. I would rather lose every penny than give up Bruce."
"It seems to me that you _have_ lost every penny," said Mrs. Herries rather cruelly, "but you have got your lover."
"No, I haven't," cried Maud, her eyes very bright and her cheeks very red; then suddenly broke down, "Oh, Elspeth, do help me, or I'll lose him altogether. He won't marry me unless I have the money, and I haven't got it."
But Elspeth was not going to yield to a few crocodile tears.
"You can get the money when Angus is hanged," she retorted.
Maud dried her eyes viciously.
"Very well," she cried, with a stamp, "you're a hard-hearted girl and a beast. I hate and detest you. I came here to save your husband, but now he can hang."
"Very good. Now you can go."
But this was not what Miss Tedder wanted.
"See here," she said, becoming business-like, and speaking in a hard voice, "if you and Angus will promise to give me half the income, I'll save him."
"Can you?"
"You asked that before. Yes, I can."
Elspeth recalled what the other had said a few moments previously.
"By getting someone to declare his innocence," she repeated.
"No," said Maud, coming closer and whispering, "by getting someone to plead guilty to the crime."
"What is the name of this someone?"
"I shan't tell you."
"You shall, you must."
"No! If you and Angus sign a paper saying that I am to have half the money, then I'll save him."
"By denouncing the real criminal?"
"Oh, I didn't say I knew about that."
"You do. I believe you know the truth; and wish to get Angus hanged simply to get this horrible money," and before Maud could evade her she caught the girl by her wrist, "you'll tell me the name of the assassin before you leave this room."
"Leave me alone," cried Miss Tedder in a cold fury, "how dare you?"
In answer Elspeth gave the wrist such a twist that Maud screamed aloud with pain.
"Tell me--tell me."
"You're hurting me. Ow! Ow!"
"Cry away," taunted Elspeth, "I intend to have the truth."
Maud set her teeth and tried to wriggle free. But she might as well have attempted to extricate herself from a blacksmith's vice.
"Oh, you are hurting me!"
"I'll break your wrist before I've done. Speak," and Elspeth shook her as a terrier does a rat.
"No," Maud fastened her teeth in Elspeth's wrist and received a box on the ears. Then she burst out crying and dropped to the floor with Mrs. Herries still holding to her prey. "Oh, you are cruel."
Elspeth shook her again, and went on shaking as she spoke. "Tell me--tell me."
"I'm not sure," whimpered Miss Tedder, now really frightened of the other's blazing eyes. "I can prove nothing."
"You must let me judge of that. Who killed Sir Simon?"
"Will you give me half the money if I tell you?"
"You must ask Angus that. I don't dispose of his property."
Maud began to scream. But it was all of no use. She had ventured into the lion's den.
"How ill-bred you are," she sobbed.
"Ah," said Elspeth contemptuously, "you thought to come here and taunt me, you thought to find a weakling; but you see," with another vigorous shake, "my love for Angus makes me strong. I'm afraid of nothing, when he is in danger. You rejoiced to hear that he was arrested. Very good, then you shall be the one to release him. Now then, out with it,--out with it," and again came the shaking until Maud was quite sick. She was terribly afraid of this reckless girl, who dared to lay hands on her. There was nothing for it, but to tell the truth so far as she knew it.
"Señora Guzman murdered my father," she cried, grovelling.
Mrs. Herries was so surprised that she released her hold, and stepped back a pace to see if Maud was speaking truly.
"How do you know?"
"Papa wrote a letter to her saying that he would disinherit me if I didn't give up Bruce, and asked her to meet him at the 'Marsh Inn' to see if she could take Bruce away from me."
"It might be true," murmured Elspeth, recalling that Señora Guzman smoked the brand of cigarette found in Herries' room. "But why did she kill your father?"
"He took a lot of money with him, and she wanted it to fit out an expedition to find Manco Capac's treasure."
"Who told you this?"
"Bruce. He fears her and loves me. There," Maud rose, and smoothed her skirts, "I've told you the truth. But you can prove nothing without me. Give me half the money and----"
"You shall have half the money if you save Angus," said Elspeth.
CHAPTER XVIII
A SURPRISING DEFENCE
Elspeth lost no time in relating to Kind all that she had heard from Maud, and also confessed that she had promised the girl half her father's fortune if she saved Angus. Sweetlips was rather annoyed that such a promise had been extorted,--which it really had been,--as Miss Tedder certainly did not deserve one single penny.
"However," said the Cheap-jack, "YOU made the promise, and not Mr. Herries, therefore if he refuses, Miss Tedder can say nothing."
"Angus will do what I want," replied the girl, quickly.
"I know that, but you won't want him to reward iniquity, and--"
"Oh, Maud is not so bad as that."
"She's about as bad as they make 'em," grumbled the ex-detective grimly. "To get that money she is quite willing to see her cousin hanged, and is only hedging at the last moment, as she fears lest your father should save him."
"Do you think my father really can?"
"Yes. I know what he is going to say, and it will settle the matter. Therefore Miss Tedder, not having saved Mr. Herries, can expect nothing. Moreover, the fortune will not be your husband's until he discovers the criminal. Oh, there are many reasons why your forced promise to Miss Tedder need not be kept."
"But if she is right in saying that Señora Guzman is the guilty person, she will have done everything towards getting the fortune for Angus."
"So that she may secure half of it, if he is not hanged. And if he escapes, it will be no thanks to her."
"Do you think she is telling the truth?"
"I really can't say," murmured Kind, nursing his chin. "Of course she is jealous of Señora Guzman, and would do anything to get her out of the way. It seems to me that Captain Bruce Kyles is trifling with both these women. Tell me again exactly what Miss Tedder said."
Elspeth thought for a moment.
"She said that her father wrote the letter, which Mr. Ritson mentioned to you, to Señora Guzman, asking her to come to the 'Marsh Inn.' She came, and Sir Simon proposed to pay her enough money to fit out some expedition, on condition that she,--the Señora that is,--took Captain Bruce Kyles away from England,--removed him from Maud's path in fact."
"Humph. I remember Señora Guzman's reference to an expedition in search of some treasure. It might be, that her real reason in coming to England was to get funds. But if this Mexican lady loves Kyles, and Sir Simon was willing to pay her for loving him, why did she murder him?"
"To get the money, Maud says."
"But she could have got the money in any case," argued Kind, who was much perplexed by the present aspect of the affair. "Why commit a useless crime? I don't believe she did it."
"But you remember," Elspeth reminded him, "you remember that you found the stump of a Tangerian cigarette on the floor of----"
"Yes, yes,--and Señora Guzman smokes that brand. But other people may smoke the same sort of cigarettes,--for instance Captain Kyles," and Sweetlips looked keenly at Elspeth.
"Do you think that he----?"
"No. Mrs. Mountford, whom I have seen, told me that Captain Kyles was with Maud Tedder on the night of the murder. He could not be in two places at once, could he? But then that kidnapping--the crew of the 'Tarabacca' certainly kidnapped Armour under the impression that he was some spy,--that looks as though their mistress was in the hotel at the time, and they were removing danger from her path. And again, Señora Guzman could easily swarm up those light trellis spars under the window of the bedroom."
"In petticoats?"
"Pooh. A daring woman like that is quite capable of assuming a sailor's dress to carry out her object."
"Then you think she was there--that she is guilty?"
"I think, on the authority of the cigarette stump, that she was in the hotel, but I don't say that she is guilty. She did not kill Sir Simon, for I can see no motive for her committing the crime."
"Nevertheless," urged Elspeth, "as the cigarette stump was found in my husband's bedroom she must have been there."
"Well," drawled the Cheap-jack, with his eyes on the ground, "as I said, other people may have smoked such a brand;--one of the officers on board, for instance. Kyles is innocent, and I am not prepared to say that Señora Guzman is guilty. But she certainly might have implicated your husband in the crime by placing the razor on his bed and hiding the pocket-book under it. The best thing to do will be to question her, and inform her of Miss Tedder's accusation. I thought she was coming to see you?"
"So she was,--yesterday, and I expected to see her about the time Maud called. However, she never came."
"Humph. She will be at the trial, no doubt. You will see her to-day. Then I'll question her. Oh, by the way," Kind came back after taking a few steps towards the door, "I have found out from Trent, who is a fool and can't keep his own counsel, that Sir Simon drew two thousand pounds from his bank the day previous to his death--that is, two hundred in gold and the rest in notes. Trent learned this from Ritson, who should have told me by the way, and he heard it from the bank manager. So you see that the money which the landlady and her son saw Sir Simon handling and which filled the blue pocket-book amounted to that sum. Now, if we can trace the notes we'll lay hands on the criminal."
"Have any of the notes been presented?"
"Not yet. However, the manager has the numbers. Trent makes this statement at the hearing to-day before the magistrate. I must get off there. And you?"
"I'm coming with my father in half-an-hour."
"You'll come back with your husband to this place shortly," said Kind, in an encouraging tone.
"Oh, Sweetlips, do you really think so.
"I am absolutely certain of it," and he departed, leaving Mrs. Herries much up-lifted by the good news. She was certain that the Cheap-jack spoke the truth, for there was that in his manner which inspired confidence.
Elspeth dressed herself very simply to accompany her father to the hearing before the magistrate, and indeed, even had she been minded to dress more expensively, she could not have done so. Her frock and hat, her boots and gloves were all presents from Rachel Kind, in return for the nursing, and were of the plainest and cheapest description. Dr. Browne, in his impulsive generosity, had wished to give his friend's wife a dress, but this Elspeth refused, as she preferred to be indebted to no one. And Browne honoured her for the refusal. He was beginning to have a better opinion of women since he had known Elspeth Herries.
But if the daughter was plainly dressed, the father was resplendent, as the old scamp had no scruples in taking money from whomsoever was fool enough to give it to him. He was arrayed in purple and fine linen, and looked highly prosperous. Gowrie was aware that he was the most important figure at the trial, after the prisoner, and resolved to take every advantage of the publicity which was, as he said himself, thrust upon him. For years, as he also said, he had been hiding his light under a bushel, but now there was a chance of his shining brilliantly, and he arranged to stick his candle in the most conspicuous position. The shrewd old man saw every opportunity of making money, and although he hoped that his son-in-law, when freed and in possession of the property, would remunerate him for his services, still he did not neglect the chance of making a few shillings on his own account. And finally, Gowrie dearly loved publicity and praise. His progress along the streets with Elspeth was like that of a king leading a princess to the altar. His daughter wanted a cab, but this Gowrie refused.
"Haud up yer held, ma bairn," said he in his grand mellow voice, "an' dinna leuk sae white. This is a gran' day in the annals o' ma hoose, an' I gang forth, like David, tae succour the sick, and tae----" here Mr. Gowrie, who had been taking various drinks, became somewhat incoherent, and Elspeth was glad when he held his tongue, since everyone in the street knew who he was, and who she was from the old man's loud talking. He was really a dreadful person to have for a father. All the same he held the fate of her husband in his hands.
There was a crowd outside the building in which the trial was to take place, but a very few people were admitted into the court itself. This was done by order of the presiding magistrate, who knew that the sympathy of the public was with the prisoner, and who did not wish for any manifestations during the proceedings. Trent had assured him that Herries would undoubtedly be convicted on the evidence, and the magistrate, believing this, guessed that when the young man was committed to take his trial at the next Essex sessions, there would be a tumult. Therefore, when Elspeth and her father entered the court, they found that few were present. But outside could be heard the murmur of the mob, who were eagerly waiting to see what would happen.
The proceedings were very much the same as they had been at the "Marsh Inn" inquest. Trent made similar statements to those he had made before, but supplemented them by adding that Sir Simon had in his possession on the night he was murdered the sum of two thousand pounds in gold and notes. He stated that the numbers of the notes were in his possession, but that as yet none of them had been presented. He detailed all that had taken place at the inn on the night the crime had been committed,--the arrival of Sir Simon to meet his unknown visitor, the subsequent arrival of Herries, who said,--and perhaps wrongly, as Trent suggested,--that he did not know that his uncle was in the house. Then came the relation of Narby's discovery of the dead body, and the evidence found in Herries' room. In fact Inspector Trent made out a very good case against the prisoner, and it really looked as though nothing could prevent the accused man being committed for trial at the Chelmsford sessions.
The same witnesses as had appeared at the inquest were called: Mrs. Narby, her husband, her son, and Elspeth. No new facts were elicited, and the witnesses, with the exception of Elspeth, stated that they were certain the prisoner was guilty. Browne was examined and gave evidence as to his examination of the dead body and mentioned the probable hour of death. It was all rather dull, as everything had appeared before in the papers. Herries, seated in the dock, gazed straight before him with a calm face, and every now and then stole a glance at Elspeth to gain confidence. She was seated with clasped hands in agony, as the evidence was given. In the face of it all, how could she hope that her husband would escape.
Trent, recalled by the magistrate, explained that he had not been able to find the man who had passed through the tap-room arrayed in Sir Simon's fur coat, but mentioned that the coat itself had been discovered. The magistrate, who seemed to be an open-minded man, thought that this was a favourable sign for the prisoner, as the missing man might possible be, and very probably was, the assassin. But the lawyer who appeared for the prosecution pointed out that the razor and the empty pocket-book had been found in Herries' room. He dared the defence to explain how these came to be in the room of the prisoner.
It was at this point that Michael Gowrie was called, and then all present listened attentively, as this was the most important witness of the lot, and assuredly,--according to common report,--would be able to save the prisoner. The young lawyer who was acting for Herries asked Gowrie a few questions relative to his position, and the reason he had been at the "Marsh Inn" on the night in question. Then he asked him to tell his story. This Gowrie did in his best English and very earnestly. He knew that too much was at stake to commit himself to the Scotch dialect, which would not be half understood by those present.
Gowrie's statement, made with considerable impudence, was to the effect that Herries, on retiring to bed, was so excited by his misfortunes that it was probable he would not sleep. Sorry for the young man, Gowrie bethought himself of a small bottle of laudanum which he possessed. He considered it his duty to give Herries a dose, so that he might sleep.
"That was a dangerous thing to do," said the magistrate, rebukingly.
"It was, sir,--it was," replied the witness, "but Herries might have gone off his head had he not obtained the needful rest. I deemed it my duty as his old tutor and sincere well-wisher to drop a small quantity of the soothing drug into the whisky which I took up to him. Therefore, sir, I would point out, that as the prisoner was under the influence of the drug, he certainly could not have risen in the night to kill the deceased."
"Is there any evidence other than yours, to show that this drug was given?" asked the magistrate, looking grave.
Gowrie mentioned Pope Narby, the son of the landlady, and the woman herself. Both of these witnesses were recalled, and Pope stated that he certainly saw Gowrie drop the laudanum into the whisky,--to make the prisoner sleep as he had stated. Mrs. Narby gave evidence as to the administration of the drugged liquor, and how readily the prisoner had fallen into a deep slumber. Browne was recalled, and stated that while under the influence of such a dose of laudanum, the prisoner certainly could not have committed the crime, and then Gowrie reiterated his statement with added proofs that the drug was so administered.
Elspeth listened with joy, believing every word of her father's story. Herries believed it also, but knew perfectly well that the drug had been administered by Gowrie, not to make him sleep, since he was already weary, but to enable the old scamp to rob him. He was on the point of stating this, but thought that if he did so, Gowrie would probably deny the charge, and such an accusation would complicate matters. He therefore held his peace, and waited to see what would come of this important piece of evidence.
The magistrate consulted with another official, and Trent was recalled. The counsel for the prosecution questioned him and Gowrie and the Narbys minutely, but after all, in the end, there was no doubt in the minds of anyone that the laudanum had been so administered, and that Herries, under the soporific influence, could not have left his bed to commit the crime. After some delay, the magistrate therefore did what he was forced to do--he acquitted Herries, who left the court a free man, much to the joy of Elspeth. When the late prisoner appeared outside the court, the news of his acquittal and the reason of it had already preceded him, and he was welcomed by the large crowd with great joy. With his wife Herries hurried to a cab, intending to drive to Browne's house, and many a hand was stretched out to greet him. Undoubtedly everyone was pleased that the young man had been proved guiltless, and Elspeth, with the tears streaming down her face, could do nothing but gaze into the eyes of her husband, who was thus at large again.
Followed by shouting crowds, the cab drove to Dr. Browne's abode, but Gowrie remained behind as the hero of the hour, and submitted, not unwillingly, to the questioning of many reporters, who were anxious to hear more. He related what he had said in the court, and protested again and again that his only reason for giving the laudanum was to make his son-in-law sleep. As there was no reason, on the face of it, why he should not be believed, everyone thought that the old man spoke the truth, and for once Gowrie enjoyed the sensation of being the lion of the hour.
But Herries, much as he was indebted to his father-in-law, was not quite satisfied. When Gowrie returned to Browne's house, the young man drew him aside and questioned him closely.
"You robbed me of money," said Herries abruptly.
"Only a few shullings, laddie," chuckled Gowrie, "ye wudna hae me tak awa ma ain character."
"And you gave me the drug so that you might rob me in safety?"
"Aye," Gowrie rubbed his hands, "joost sae. An' a lucky nicht it wis for ye that I did pit the drug intae yon gless."
"You are a scoundrel, Gowrie."
"Eh! This tae yer paw-in-law, an' tae the mon wha saved yer life!"
"You wouldn't have saved my life if I had not married Elspeth," was Herries' dry retort.
"Weel, maybe I wudnae hae pit maesel tae sic trouble. Hoots, mon, a few shullin' against yer ain neck. It's gey cheap."
The old fellow was so shameless that Herries could say nothing. He stopped rebuking a man who could not feel the force of a rebuke, and went on another tack.
"When you came up to rob me, did you see or hear anything?"
"Aye, but I winna tell ye what I saw."
"You want to make more money out of it, I expect. Well, if you don't tell me, I'll inform the police, and you----"
"Nae, nae, laddie. Dinna dae that. I'll tell ye. I saw a wumon in the paussage. Aye, I dinna ken wha she wis, but I saw a petticoat."
"You SAW her?"
"Dinna pin me tae a word, my manny. It wis dark, ye ken, when I wis paying ye a veesit, an'----"
"About what time was this. After twelve, or before it?"
"It wis nearer one o'clock in the morn," said Gowrie, after some hesitation. "I wanted tae gie the drug time tae dae its marciful work. I wis sleepin' in the tap-room, ye ken, aye, and a weary bed I hed, laddie. When the clock--deil tak it for keeping me awake--struck the haulf-hour, I joost slipped off mae shoon, and crept up tae see ye sleepin' like a bairn."
"Had you a light?"
"Nae, nae, I wis nane sae dafty. A' the hoose, es I thocht, wis in slumber, and I didnae care tae wauken the puir weary folk. I kenned the lie o' the hoose weel enow, and joost crept up the stairs tae yer room. The door wisnae closed. I saw tae that when I ganged up wi' yon limmer, the Narby wumon. I came in lamb-like, nae wishful to disturb ye, and then I struck a match. Ye were sleeping like a bairn," added Gowrie pathetically, "an' I thanked my gude thocht for makin' ye sleep. Aye, I wis a faither tae ye on that nicht, laddie."
"Well? Well?" questioned Herries impatiently.
"Weel, weel," reiterated Gowrie testily, "I turned oot the pockets of yer troosers, and fund less nor I expected. But I wis thankful for sma' marcies, and departed wi' the few shullin's, the which," protested Mr. Gowrie, "was scarce the price o' the beneficent drug I gie ye tae mak ye sleep."
"To enable you to rob me you mean? Well, you saw----?"
"Naethin'. But I heard the swish o' a wumon's dress departing doon the stairs. There, I'll tell ye nae mair. I dinna ken wha the female was. Maybe the landlady?"
"Or Señora Guzman," replied Herries, much perplexed.
CHAPTER XIX
MRS. MOUNTFORD'S ACCUSATION
That same evening, after dinner, Angus and Elspeth sat side by side in the severe-looking drawing-room. Their host had been called out unexpectedly, after the usual custom of patients, who appear to fall ill at the most awkward moments. But in this instance the young couple were rather glad that Browne had departed, as they wished to have a quiet and confidential talk about their position and their future. Hitherto, owing to the attentions of various friends, this had been impossible.
Herries looked extremely well in spite of his late exciting experiences,--a very different man to the haggard tramp who had arrived at the "Marsh Inn," or hotel, as many of the papers called it. Mrs. Kind had fed him well during his sojourn in the caravan, and while detained in the Tarhaven prison he had been treated kindly. But he still wore the threadbare blue serge suit, although Browne had supplied him with clean linen, a luxury which Herries much appreciated.
Elspeth was different also. In every way she was improved, as her face had filled out, and her figure looked less fragile, and her eyes were less like those of a hunted deer. Good food and a happy love--for happy it was in spite of untoward circumstances--had done much to improve the miserable little drudge of the inn. Hand in hand the lovers sat, for they were more lovers than ever, and the marriage bond was yet new to them. There was only one electric lamp alight and that was at the end of the rather large room, therefore Mr. and Mrs. Herries sat in comparative twilight. After all the storm and stress of the last few weeks, they felt extremely happy and like weary sailors who had reached a safe port. Elspeth made some such remark, but Angus laughed as he kissed her.
"You dear, silly darling," said the young man, slipping his arm round her waist, "we are not in port yet; there is a long voyage before us, and a stormy one, before we are safely berthed."
"What do you mean, dear? You are safe."
"My life is and my liberty, but you forget, Elspeth, that I am as poor and friendless as ever."
"Not friendless, since you have me."
He pressed her to his breast.
"I count you as more than a friend, as my wife."
"Well then, there is Dr. Browne----"
"He's a trump."
"And Sweetlips Kind."
"The best fellow in the world, save Browne."
"And my father."
Here Herries' eulogies came to a stand-still. He screwed up his face and shook his head.
"I am not so sure that we can call your father a friend, Elspeth."
"Oh, Angus, when he saved your life."
"My dear, I am well aware of that, but his reason was simply a pecuniary one. He told me plainly that he would not have put himself out had I not married you."
"Ah," said Elspeth somewhat bitterly, "he is only too glad to get rid of me. I have always been an encumbrance to him."
"Well, at least, you are now with someone who appreciates you," said Angus, kissing her.
"Do you really mean that, Angus? Do you really love me?"
"Darling, is there any need to tell you?"
"Every need," she said vehemently, and with a suspicion of tears in her voice, "I have been so lonely all my life. No one has ever loved me. I have been kicked about from pillar to post, neglected, starved, beaten, scorned. Oh, dearest heart," she looked up passionately into his face, "can you wonder that I want you to tell me again and again how much you love me."
"I love you,--I love you,--I love you. There, will that do?"
"Again! Again!" she hid her face in his breast, and he bent over her till his lips touched her soft hair.
"I love you with all my heart and soul, you are the one woman in the wide world to me."
"And I am the only woman, not Maud."
"Maud!" he snapped his fingers, "pouf."
"Ah," said Elspeth jealously, "but you loved her,--you would have married her."
"I loved her in the usual way a shallow young man loves. She was pretty and coquettish when I was with her in Edinburgh, and her exterior drew me. I loved her merely for her beauty, never for her heart and beautiful nature, as I love you, dearest. It required months of misery to deepen my nature and make me appreciate a true woman, such as you are. Ours is one of those rare marriages that is made in heaven. Never be jealous of Maud Tedder, my own love; you alone possess my heart."
"I know it, I feel it. All the same,--" she paused.
"All the same----?"
"I want you to tell me again that you love me."
"I love you, little donkey."
Elspeth threw her arms round his neck, and brought his lips down to her own.
"I am a donkey--all the same, I am a woman who wants to be loved. I _am_ loved," this triumphantly, "but oh, how delicious it is to love and to be loved, Angus."
"Elspeth!"
They clasped hands and looked deep into one another's eyes; then the reaction came and both burst out laughing.
"We are like a couple of children," said Herries, smiling, "merry children."
"Why not? We have been sad for so long."
"And foolish children."
"Ah, my own, we have been too wise in the misery of the world. Look at your years of sorrow; look at my years of trouble. We have both been unlucky."
"Mr. and Mrs. Jonah," said Angus, with a shrug, "well, darling, I think two bad lucks make one good one. Since we have been married the luck has changed."
"In what way?"
"I am free from a terrible charge, and you are my wife. Henceforth I truly believe that we will be the happiest and most fortunate couple in the wide world. Two negatives make an affirmative, so why shouldn't your bad luck and mine, when joined, as they now are, make one superlatively good one? What do you think?"
"I think the same as you. Everything will go well now."
"Hurrah," Angus shook her hands vigorously, "let us build castles in the air, and perhaps they will turn into bricks and mortar."
Elspeth caught his spirit, and laughed also.
"Well, then, we will learn who killed your uncle, and then you will get fifty thousand a year, upon which," she gave him a comical look, "we can manage to exist."
"With due economy," said Herries gravely, "but we must not forget, my dearest, that should this great fortune come to us, we will have to hold it in trust for less fortunate people. There are many male and female Jonahs about, who will have to be helped."
"I quite agree with you; but we must get the money first. Now that you are free, Angus, you can search for yourself."
"I intend to; but in what direction can I search?"
Elspeth thought for a few moments.
"I fancy it would be best for you to return to the 'Marsh Inn,' and question Mrs. Narby."
"Do you think that she knows the truth?"
"I can't be sure; but she is an observant woman, and if you promise her a reward she would tell you of anything suspicious she might have seen."
"That's true," then Angus burst into laughter, "I wonder if she'll be civil."
"Of course. She must have seen in the papers that you have inherited this money, and if you make it worth her while----"
"But I can't until I find out who killed my uncle. Only when the true assassin is discovered will I be able to inherit."
"Make it worth Mrs. Narby's while and she will assist you," insisted Elspeth. "I am quite sure that the secret of the crime is to be discovered at the 'Marsh Inn.'"
"Perhaps Mrs. Narby herself killed my uncle."
"Why do you think that?" asked Mrs. Herries, quite startled.
"Your father acknowledged that when he went up the stairs after midnight, to empty my pockets while I was lying in that drugged sleep, he heard the swish of a woman's gown in the darkness, going down the stairs. That looks as though Mrs. Narby----"
"No," exclaimed Elspeth vehemently, and rising to gesticulate, "I really don't think that Mrs. Narby, bad as she is, would commit such a crime."
"She might have done so to get that two thousand pounds, and then have placed the pocket-book in my room to----"
"No, no, she would rob, and scold, and do many things, but at heart she is a coward and would never risk her neck."
"Well, then, perhaps the woman who went down the stairs was Señora Guzman."
"I don't see how she could have got into the inn."
"Neither do I," said Herries, scratching his head in perplexity, "and I don't see either why she should have killed my uncle. Say that she wanted this two thousand in order to fit out an expedition to hunt for this Peruvian treasure, my uncle was ready to give it to her, provided she removed Kyles from Maud's path."
"Yet Maud accuses her," said Elspeth, equally perplexed.
Angus shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course. Maud is a jealous rival and would hang Señora Guzman at once if she could manage to do it. It was strange that Señora Guzman was not at the trial to-day."
"Why should she have come?"
"Well, you see, she told Kind that the crime was--as she verily believed--a political one, and so she might have been present in order to save me, seeing that she must know that I am innocent, and did not know what your father was about to say."
"The best thing will be to see her."
"I intend to. I'll go along to Pierside to-morrow, and board that yacht. And," added Herries emphatically, "I don't leave it until I learn all she knows."
"Do you think Captain Kyles----?"
"No. Mrs. Mountford said that he was with Maud at the 'Moated Hall' on the night of the murder. I believe," said Herries, walking up and down the room, "that your father knows more than he will admit. He was sleeping in the tap-room, and anyone who went up the stairs would have to pass through it----"
"Oh, no, Angus----"
"Well, I don't exactly mean that. But your father--who admits to having been kept awake by the clock--would have heard anyone who went up the stairs. Also, he might have heard anything that went on outside the house."
"What went on there?"
"Armour was kidnapped, and the man whom Sir Simon was to see climbed in at the window, where stood the candle with the red handkerchief before it as a signal. Depend upon it your father knows."
"Where is he now?" asked Elspeth. "We might ask him."
"Pooh. He'll say only so much as suits his book. He went an hour ago to see Maud and claim his reward."
"What reward?"
"You know. The five hundred pounds that she offered for my apprehension. He caught me, so he can claim it. The payment will make a large hole in Maud's reduced income of one thousand a year."
"I promised, if she saved you, Angus, that she should have half the fortune of her father."
"I know, but you are released from that promise. Maud did not save me. Your father did that. Unless I see some very strong reason I won't give Maud a penny."
"We must forgive our enemies," rebuked Elspeth.
"Quite so, but Maud sought my life to further her love-chase. I daresay in the end I'll help her, but she must suffer a trifle for her wickedness. Hullo, who is this. Browne come back?"
As Herries spoke the door opened, and a bulky gentleman entered, with a bulky lady behind him. Then a voice spoke, which was easily recognised, and a hand turned on the full glare of the electrics.
"Settin' in the twilight like turtle dooves," said Mr. Gowrie, "blind tae th' warld as ye micht say. Aye, young luve,--young luve." While the old tutor ran on in this jocular manner, the bulky lady advanced. She was clothed in black, and wore a large picture hat trimmed with large ostrich feathers. Her advance was like that of a tragedy queen, and she waved Gowrie aside, when he attempted to speak.
"Man," she said, grandly, "let me introduce myself. Mrs. Herries!" she bowed. "Mr. Herries!" she repeated the performance. "I am Mrs. Mountford, the companion of Miss Maud Tedder."
"Yes," said Angus rather coldly, "and may I ask why you have come here, Mrs. Mountford?"
"To appeal to you on behalf of your cousin. She has been wrongfully dispossessed by her father, and--"
"Pardon me, Mrs. Mountford, but I am unable to enter into this question at present. Until I discover who killed my uncle, I am not in possession of the property."
"And what if I can help you to discover the assassin?"
"What! You know----?"
"I know nothing, but I have grave suspicions."
"Of whom?"
Mrs. Mountford did not reply immediately. She sank into a chair, and arranged herself like a queen. Gowrie stood beside her with folded hands and looked at her majestic form satirically. Elspeth sat beside Angus, and waited to hear what this formidable looking dame had to say.
"I came here with Mr. Gowrie," said the ex-governess, "as he has had some difficulty with Miss Tedder."
"Deeficulty do ye ca' it, wumon!" cried Gowrie, who could keep silence no longer. "She's nae mair nor a Jeezebel, a Scarlet Wumon o' Babylon, takin' ma hardly earned siller frae me. Deeficulty says she, aye, and rank cheatin', swindling, embeezling, thieving----"
"Hush," Mrs. Mountford waved her hand, as though rebuking a rebellious subject, "be silent. Mr. Herries, this man----"
"Gentlemon, ye bauld limmer. Aye, an a meenister foreby."
"He came to see Miss Tedder to claim his reward for having betrayed your hiding-place."
"He has certainly earned it," said Herries, coolly.
"Miss Tedder refuses to encourage this Judas-like conduct, since she did not wish to pay the reward unless you were convicted."
"And hanged," ended Angus, laughing. "Why don't you finish the sentence, Mrs. Mountford? I am quite aware that my cousin was only too anxious to have my neck stretched provided she got the money."
Elspeth would have burst into indignant speech, but Herries laid a reproving hand on her arm. Gowrie grumbled.
"Judas ye ca' me, ye jade o' Nineveh, yon great city, and a' for askin' for ma ain."
"You betrayed your son-in-law," said Mrs. Mountford.
"Aye, kenning weel I cud save the laddie's neck."
"So Miss Tedder guessed, and so she will not pay the reward."
"I'll county-court the hizzy. Aye, she'll pay doon the siller, or jailed she shall be for a bleezin' slut o' Tophet."
"Mr. Herries," the lady in black appealed to Angus, "I must really ask you to stop this man talking.
"Well, Mrs. Mountford, you can hardly expect me to do that, when you come here calmly to regret that I was not hanged.
"Send her away," said Elspeth angrily.
"Peace," said Mrs. Mountford, with severity; then addressed herself to Herries. "Believe me, I regret that Maud should have conducted herself in such a way. But love is a short madness, as the Latin Grammar says, and Miss Tedder is in love with Captain Kyles. He, I truly believe, loves her for the money she once had, and will not return to her side unless she recovers her fortune."
"I see," said Angus coolly, "and you come here to ask me to give up the fortune so that she may marry Kyles. I must say that is an impertinent request."
"Hear me out, Mr. Herries. I love Maud. She has her faults, and she has, I admit, behaved badly. All the same she has her good points, and you must remember that she was, so to speak, under the thumb of this adventurer Kyles. Maud only wished you hanged to save him."
"But Kyles wanted to save _me_," said Herries, puzzled, "at least, Dr. Browne told me."
"Ah, that was acting on Captain Kyles' part," said Mrs. Mountford contemptuously. "He wanted to see you hanged, so that the question of the assassination should be settled. Maud was quite willing that this should be so, provided she married him. Ah, Mr. Herries, you must forgive Maud. She loves so much."
"Even to hanging me; a nice foundation for a marriage, I must say."
"It is infamous, talking in this way," cried Elspeth, who was white with indignation.
"What can ye expect frae a wumon wha wull nae dischairge her lawful indebtedness? The fair sex, they ca' ye, the unfair limmers ye are, the hail clamjamfarry. Adaam wis respectable beside Eve, the cutty, wi' her stolen fruit, and nae clothing."
Herries began to laugh. The extreme humour of Mrs. Mountford, although quite unconscious, appealed to him, and the indignation of Gowrie was not less amusing. Everyone had his or her own axe to grind, as the saying goes, and each was ready to sacrifice everyone and anyone to get what he or she wanted. It was a Gilbert and Sullivan opera without music.
"Come, Mrs. Mountford," said Angus, suddenly becoming serious, "tell me what you want."
"I want you to have Captain Kyles arrested."
"Why?"
"Because I am quite sure that he murdered Sir Simon."
"Impossible. I understood that you declared he was with Maud at the Hall on the night of the murder."
"I said that at Maud's request," confessed Mrs. Mountford, with a blush. "Indeed, I have given in too much to her, and for doing so I ask your pardon, Mr. Herries."
"You would have let him be hanged," cried Elspeth indignantly.
"No, indeed, no, Mrs. Herries. Had Maud persisted in her mad intention of incriminating your husband, I should have come forward at the trial to denounce the real murderer--Captain Kyles."
"Can you prove that he is guilty?" asked Angus quickly.
"I can prove nothing. But I know that Sir Simon wrote a letter to Captain Kyles at Mr. Ritson's office, asking for a meeting at the 'Marsh Inn,' and telling him that he had disinherited Maud, because she insisted upon marrying him."
"But Maud herself said that the letter was written to Señora Guzman," put in Elspeth.
"Alas, that is merely jealousy, Maud knows that Captain Kyles will marry Señora Guzman, failing herself, and so wishes to remove a rival from her path. All love, Mrs. Herries, all love."
"Humph," said Angus, "I must say that Maud has a very pretty way of getting rid of people. She was willing to hang me; she is willing to hang Señora Guzman; and all to marry the man who killed her father. A nice person, upon my word."
"A cutty--a slut--a jade!" said Gowrie wrathfully. "Maud doesn't know that Captain Kyles killed her father," said Mrs. Mountford, "but she knew, as I do, that he was at the inn on the night of the crime."
"He was the gentleman expected by Sir Simon?"
"On the authority of the letter, which Captain Kyles showed to Maud, and about which Maud spoke to me--yes."
"Then my cousin must have a shrewd idea that Kyles is guilty," said Herries. "However, we can talk of the ethics of Maud later. Where is Captain Kyles now? At the Hall?"
"No. He is at the 'Marsh Inn,' stopping there, in fact. He wrote to Maud saying that he was putting up there for a week."
"Did he explain his reason?"
"No. He simply said that he was there, and would see her before he returned to the 'Tarabacca,' which is still at Pierside."
"With Señora Guzman on board?"
"I suppose so. But I want you, Mr. Herries, to have Captain Kyles arrested and his guilt proved. Then you can give Maud a sum of money, and I'll take her to the Colonies, there to begin a new life."
"I shall certainly see Kyles, and have him arrested if possible," said Herries, "but I am not quite certain about giving Maud money. In the first place I am penniless myself----"
"You will be rich when Captain Kyles is condemned."
"Not sufficiently so to pay Maud an income for behaving in so wicked a way. I wonder you have the face to ask me, Mrs. Mountford."
"I love her in spite of her faults," pleaded the ex-governess; and then her dignity broke down and she began to cry. "I know she is wicked and has been led astray by Captain Kyles, but I brought her up from the cradle and am attached to----"
"An' muckle creedit does the lassie dae ye," cried Gowrie angrily.
"Mr. Herries," said Mrs. Mountford wiping her eyes and taking no notice of the tutor, "what will you do?"
"Nothing at present. I am sorry, Mrs. Mountford, for I recognise your good heart, but Maud is too bad. Later we can speak of this. You can go, Mrs. Mountford."
The ex-governess, with all her stiffness taken out of her, rose and walked limply to the door. Without a word, she vanished, and the three left alone, stared at one another. Gowrie opened his mouth. Elspeth would have spoken, but Herries, master of the situation, held up his hand.
"Not a word from either of you," he said, "Gowrie, you must take up your quarters at the 'Marsh Inn,' and let me know what Kyles is up to."
"Why not yersel', laddie?"
"He would suspect me, he won't suspect you. You can go to-morrow."
"And what will you do, Angus?" asked Elspeth. "I'll go to Pierside and interview Señora Guzman."
"Do you believe that Captain Kyles is guilty, Angus?"
"No, your father heard a woman moving about in the darkness. I would not be surprised to learn that the woman was Mrs. Mountford herself. I can account in no other way for her preposterous behaviour."