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Devil's Dice

Page 44

by William Le Queux

together, Lady Stretton being present, Sybil told her story tothe astonished police officer in a plain, matter-of-fact manner,describing minutely the circumstances of the tragedy as she hadwitnessed it, and eulogising Jack for the self-sacrifice he had made inorder to shield her. Her confession was much the same as that she hadmade to me, and when she had concluded the detective turned, offered hishand to Jack, apologising for regarding him with undue suspicion, towhich the other responded generously, saying:

  "It was my fault; entirely my fault. I intended you should believe meguilty. But arrest the culprit; do not let him escape."

  "No, he shall not," Grindlay said with a mysterious smile. "Very soonwe shall have him under lock and key. But this affair is simplyastounding," he continued, turning to me. "I felt certain there must besome very suspicious circumstances connected with your secret marriage,but the intricacies of this extraordinary plot never occurred to me. Iknew that only by the exertion of great influence could such a marriageas yours be procured, and certainly the substitution of Miss Henniker'ssister for herself was one of the most ingenious and neatly-executedpieces of trickery that has ever come under my notice. Indeed, thetruth is even more remarkable than the mystery. The Earl and hisprecious confederate must be an inventive pair, otherwise they would nothave succeeded in tricking us so neatly. When perpetrating the fraudand the murder, the Earl secured the silence of witnesses by devicesevidently carefully planned. Since I last saw you I have learnt thetruth from De Vries, the French ex-detective, who endeavoured to levyblackmail upon Markwick. It appears as though their scheme would neverhave been exposed had not he, while making inquiries into the causes ofthe Chamber of Deputies explosion, found himself balked by the strangemarriage. The relatives away in Savoy, to whom the estate rightlybelonged, had had their suspicions aroused by some slight incident, andhad caused inquiry to be made by the police. De Vries, having bothmatters in hand, at length understood that an important object was to beattained by preventing Ethel from dying. This, however, was after hisretirement from the Paris police. Nevertheless, an adept at criminalinvestigation, he prosecuted his inquiries out of sheer curiosity, andpossibly with the hope of a reward, until he obtained confirmation ofhis suspicion that Miss Sybil was not dead. Finding he could gleannothing further he therefore resolved to obtain money for his silence,and blackmailed Markwick, compelling him to part with various sums ofmoney. De Vries was, it appears, a friend of Sternroyd's, and in amoment of expansiveness imparted to him the secret. Thereupon Sternroydset diligently to work, discovered Sybil, and would--if not foully doneto death--have exposed the whole conspiracy. But I have sent amessenger for De Vries, and expect him here every moment."

  Almost as he spoke the diminutive Frenchman was ushered in by one of thestately, powdered footmen of the Stretton household. He entered,smiling and bowing, and when Grindlay had explained what he had told ushe turned to me, and in broken English, reiterated with muchgesticulation how he had been commissioned by Monsieur Goron, the headof the Paris police, to investigate the dynamite explosion in theChamber, and how, at the house of the noted Anarchist Mercuvel, anincriminating letter signed by Sybil Henniker had been discovered. Shewas traced, application was made to the London police for her arrest andextradition, and he himself came over and had actually accompanied theofficers when they burst into the room wherein the marriage ceremony hadtaken place. Returning to Paris, baffled by the death of the womansupposed to be one of the guiding spirits of the apostles of dynamite,another inquiry was soon afterwards placed into his hands. It was madeby a family named Langon, living near Chambery, regarding the sister ofSybil Henniker. This aroused his suspicion, but having fallen intodisfavour at headquarters he found himself compelled to resign hisofficial appointment Afterwards he returned to London, investigated thematter thoroughly, and arrived at the conclusion that it was Sybil whowas passing herself off as the wife of Markwick, and that the Langonfamily were entitled to claim the late Madame Henniker's property. Thedetective's shrewdness had obtained for him hush-money to the extent ofover a thousand pounds when, fearing Markwick would escape and thus hissource of income might disappear, he coolly claimed another thousand inreturn for his liberty, a request which was refused.

  When this family council terminated, and the bell was rung thatrefreshments might be served to Grindlay and the Frenchman, it wasalready near midnight. The footman on entering that abode of garishluxury passed at once across to Lady Stretton, saying in a low tone:

  "Lord Fyneshade called an hour ago, your ladyship, and--"

  "Fyneshade!" all echoed in a tone of awe.

  "And what did you tell him, Stebbings?" cried Lady Stretton, growingcrimson with excitement.

  "I told him your ladyship was engaged with Captain Bethune, Mr Ridgewayand a French gentleman," the flunkey answered, astonished at thesensation his announcement had produced.

  "Well, what then?"

  "He glanced at Monsieur's card lying in the hall, and then lefthurriedly, first asking me whether a strange, fair-haired young lady hadaccompanied Mr Ridgeway. I told him that she had, and he then said Iwas not to disturb you or mention that he had called."

  "By Heaven! He's bolted!" cried Grindlay, springing to his feet. "Buthe must not escape. Come with me, De Vries. We must find him before hehas time to leave London."

  "But Markwick!" I cried. "What of him?"

  "He has unfortunately already gone," the Frenchman answered as he passedthrough the door. "I missed him this morning, after watching hislodgings at Notting Hill for nearly three weeks. He has eluded me, andI fear got clean away."

  A few moments later Grindlay and his companion jumped into a cab, and Iheard a voice shout to the driver:

  "Scotland Yard. Quick!"

  CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR.

  GUILT.

  A last beam of the sun gliding over the surface of the river transformedit into a ribbon of creamy gold as, accompanied by Sybil and Grindlay, Iwas driven over the old moss-grown bridge on the way from the station toFyneshade Hall, one of the most historic mansions in Sussex.

  Throughout the length and breadth of the land telegraphic informationhad reached the police that the Earl of Fyneshade was wanted on a chargeof murder. In every town, in almost every village, constables anddetectives were on the alert. The search in London during the day hadproved futile, for after leaving Lady Stretton's all trace of hislordship had been lost, and it was supposed that, finding De Vriespresent, he had become alarmed and had hidden himself. At Eaton Square,Grindlay had ascertained that Mabel had been away at the country seatduring the past three days, and nothing had been seen there of the Earlfor a week. Inquiries at his clubs and elsewhere elicited no clue tothe direction he had taken, but about five o'clock Grindlay had calledupon me hurriedly, saying that he intended to go to Fyneshade, whereuponI resolved to accompany him, and Sybil, being also present, pleaded thatshe might be taken also.

  Therefore we had left Victoria, and two hours later found ourselves at asmall wayside station with four miles to drive. It was an anxiousjourney, and during those last four miles scarcely a word was exchangedbetween us, so full were our thoughts, for the Inspector had ascertainedfrom the station-master that his lordship had arrived from London by thefirst train that morning, and, no fly being available, had walked up tothe Hall.

  At last we were gaining upon him.

  Was it any wonder, then, knowing the fate awaiting him, that we weresilent?

  When, having passed the lodge-gates and driven up through the spacious,well-wooded park wherein the birds were gayly chattering, we alightedbefore the great stone portico of the quaint, rambling, ivy-coveredmansion, a man-servant came forward.

  "I wish to see Lady Fyneshade!" I said.

  "Yes, sir. Her ladyship is at home, sir. Please step this way," andtaking my card he led us through the great hall of polished oak, withits windows of stained glass and stands of armour, into a pleasantsitting-room with diamond panes and deep window-seats commanding a widesweep
of the park and lake beyond. Here, as through the mansion, therewas a lulling quietude, and an atmosphere of voluptuous luxury. Thesense became oppressed with the richness of the surroundings, and thequietude added to the oppression.

  Almost before the door had closed a rustling of silk reached our ears,and when it opened again Mabel stood before us. Her face was deathlypale; around her eyes, swollen as if by tears, were dark rings that toldonly too plainly the distressing anxiety of that breathless day.

  "You?" she gasped, steadying herself by clutching at the handle of thedoor, and gazing fixedly at Sybil. Then, turning her haggard eyes uponGrindlay, she said half reproachfully:

  "You have come for him!"

  The Inspector, standing by the window, advanced a few steps, and bowinganswered:

  "It is unfortunately my painful

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