toremark how lucidly the science of poisoning was explained in a certainbook which might be purchased anywhere for seven-and-sixpence, a workwhich had undoubtedly cost thousands of human lives. Then instantly Irecollected. It was a copy of this same book that Dick had noticed inthe morning-room at Riverdene.
"In this very room," the old fellow went on, "I've had some queerinquiries made by all sorts and conditions of people. Only the otherday a young girl called to consult me, having heard, she said, that Isold for a consideration a certain deadly herb. By her voice she wasevidently a lady."
His final observation increased my interest in this remarkableconversation.
"What was she like?" I inquired with eagerness, for since the affair atPhillimore Place I took the keenest interest in anything appertaining topoisons.
"She was rather tall and slim, dressed in black. But my eyes are not sogood as they used to be, and, in the dark here, I couldn't see much ofher face through her veil. She was pretty, I think."
"And did you actually sell her what she wanted?"
He hesitated a moment.
"Certainly, and at my own price," he answered at last in his thin,rasping voice. "The stuff, one of the most dangerous and little-knowncompounds, not obtainable through any ordinary channel, is mostdifficult to handle. But I saw that it was not the first time she'd hadazotics in her possession," and he smiled grimly, rendering his face themore hideous. "From her attitude and conversation I should imagine herto be a very ingenious, but not altogether desirable acquaintance," headded.
"And didn't you note anything by which you might recognise her again?"I inquired. "Surely young girls are not in the habit of buying poisonin that manner!"
"Well," croaked the distorted old fellow, with a grin, "I did notice onething, certainly. She wore a brooch of rather uncommon pattern. It wasa playing-card in gold and enamel--a tiny five of diamonds."
"A five of diamonds!" I gasped.
At that instant the truth became plain, although I hesitated to believeit. The brooch was Eva Glaslyn's; one that she had worn only three daysbefore when I was last down at Riverdene, and while on the water withher I had remarked its quaintness.
Could it be possible that she had actually purchased a deadly drug ofthis hideous old man? Or were there other brooches of similar patternand design? Thus were increased the shadows which seemed to envelopher. My soul seemed killed within me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
DICK BECOMES MYSTERIOUS.
The startling statement of Morris Lowry caused me very considerableuneasiness. On my return to Grey's Inn, however, I made no mention ofour strange conversation to Dick, who returned that evening rather lateafter a heavy day of news-hunting. Old Lowry had evidently been in aconfidential mood that afternoon, and I had no right to expose anysecret of his extraordinary business. Therefore I kept my own counsel,pondering deeply over his statement when Cleugh had gone forth to meetLily, wondering whether it might have been some other woman who had wornthe brooch with the five of diamonds.
I sat at the window gloomily watching the light fade from the leadenLondon sky. The evening was stifling, for no fresh air penetrated tothat small open space, surrounded as it was by miles and miles ofsmoke-blackened streets, and as night crept on the heavens became a dullred with the reflection of the myriad lights of the city.
Heedless of all, I strove to find some solution of the enigma.Inquiries made by Boyd, one of the shrewdest detectives in London, hadfailed utterly. He was now relying solely upon me. There was but oneclue, that given by the landlord of the house, and this I had followedwith the result that the circumstances had only grown more and morebewildering. As far as could be discerned there was no motive whateverin taking the lives of either the man or the woman, while the escape ofEva was an astounding fact of which I longed for an explanation from herown lips.
I loved her. Yes, the more I reflected as I sat there gazing aimlesslyacross the square, regardless of the fleeting time, the more I becameconvinced that she was all the world to me. I recollected herdaintiness and her grace, the sweetness of her smile and the music ofher voice, telling myself that she alone was my idol, that my love forMary had after all been a mere boyish fancy, and that this affection wasa true, honest, deep-rooted one, the outcome of a great and boundlesslove.
Was there, however, not a great and terrible suspicion upon her? By amere chance, that chance which Fate sends so often to thwart themurderer's plans or give him up to justice, I had learnt that she--orsome one answering exactly to her description--had actually purchasedsome poisonous compound. I had believed her to have been a victim onthat fatal night, but now it seemed that, on the other hand, she washerself given to the study of poisons; a strange subject, indeed, for awoman to take up. Then calmly I asked myself if it were possible tocast all memory of her aside, and after reflection discovered that sucha course was utterly unfeasible. To entertain no further thought of herwas entirely out of all question, for I loved her with a fierce andintense affection, and thought of nought else but her strange connexionwith this mystery which, if made public, would send a thrill throughLondon.
There were some very ugly facts hidden somewhere, yet try how I would Icould form no distinct straightforward theory. Eva was naive andsincere, frank and open, undesigning and entirely inartificial,nevertheless beneath her candour she seemed to be concealing some dreadsecret.
The latter I was determined to discover, and while night drew on andshadowy figures crossed and recrossed the square, I still sat plunged inthought, pondering deeply to find some means whereby to approach her.
I love her--a woman upon whom the gravest suspicion rested of havingpurchased a deadly drug for some nefarious purpose. Truly in the fitfulfever of life the decree of Fate is oft-times strange. Men have lovedmurderesses, and women have, before now, given their hearts, nay, eventheir lives, to shield cowards and assassins.
Suddenly a movement behind me brought me back to a sense of mysurroundings, and I saw that Dick had returned.
"Why, you're back very early," I said. "Have you been down to theCrystal Palace?"
"Yes, of course," he answered gaily. "What have you been doing, youlazy beggar? It's past half-past eleven."
"Nothing," I answered, surprised that it was so late. "I tried towrite, but it's too beastly hot to work."
"Quite fresh down at the Palace," he answered. "Big crowd on theTerrace, and the fireworks not at all bad."
"Lil all right?"
"Yes. Sends her regards, and all that sort of thing. But--" and hehesitated, at the same time tossing his hat across upon a chair, andseating himself on the edge of the table in that careless,devil-may-care style habitual to him.
"But what?" I inquired.
He sighed, and a grave expression crossed his face.
"Fact is, old chap," he said in an unusually earnest tone, "I fear I'mgetting a bit tired of her. She wasn't the least bit interestingto-night."
"Sorry to hear that, old man," I said. "Perhaps she wasn't very well--or you may be out of sorts--liver, or something. A woman isn't alwaysin the same mood, you know, just as a man is liable to attacks ofblues."
"Yes, yes, I know all that," he exclaimed impatiently. "But I've beenthinking over it a long time, and, to tell the truth, I'm no longer inlove with her. It's no good making a fool of the girl any longer."
"But she loves you," I observed, knowing well in what affection she heldmy erratic friend.
"That's the devil of it!" he snapped. "To tell the truth, it hasworried me a lot lately."
"You've neglected her very much," I observed, "but surely she'sgood-looking, a charming companion, and has a very even temper. You'vetold me so lots of times. Why have you so suddenly grown tired?"
"I really don't know," he answered, smiling, at the same time slowlyfilling his pipe. "Perhaps it's my nature. I was always a wanderer,you know."
I looked at him steadily for some moments, then said bluntly--
"Look here, Di
ck, you needn't conceal the truth from me, old fellow.Mary Blain has attracted you, and you are throwing Lil over on heraccount."
"Rubbish!" he laughed. "Mary's a nice girl, but as for loving her--"and he shrugged his shoulders without concluding his sentence.
Notwithstanding this protest, however, I felt convinced that I hadguessed aright, and regretted, because I knew how well Lily loved him,and what a blow it would be to her. She and I had been good friendsalways, and I liked her, for she was demure, modest, and withaldignified, even though she were but a shop assistant.
"Well, is it really fair to Lily?" I suggested, after a rather painfulpause.
"You surely wouldn't advise me to tie myself to a girl I don't love?" heprotested, rather hastily. "You are a fellow with lots of common sense,Frank, and your advice I'd follow before that of any chap I know, buthere you're a bit wide of the mark, I think."
"Thanks for the compliment, old fellow," I responded. "Of course itisn't for me to interfere in your private affairs, but all I advise inthis matter is a little hesitation before decision."
"It's useless," he said. "I've already decided."
"To give up Lily?"
"I have given her up. I told her to-night that I shouldn't see heragain."
"You did!" I exclaimed, looking at him in surprise. I could notunderstand this sudden change of his. A few hours before he had beenfull of Lil's praises, telling me how charming she could be inconversation, and declaring that he loved her very dearly. It was morethan remarkable.
"Yes," he said. "You know that I can't bear to beat about the bush, soI resolved to tell her the truth. She'd have to know it some day, andbetter at once than later on."
"Well, all I can say is that you're a confounded brute," I exclaimedplainly.
"I know I am," he admitted. "That's the worst of it. I'm too deucedoutspoken. Any other chap would have simply left her and ended it byletter. I, however, put the matter to her philosophically."
"And how did she take it?"
His lips compressed for an instant as his eyes met mine.
"Badly," he answered in a low voice. "Tears, protestations of love, andquite a scene. Fortunately we were alone together in the train. I gotout with her at the _Elephant and Castle_, and took her home."
"Did you see her father?"
"No. And don't want to. He's no good--the ugly old sinner."
"Why?" I inquired quickly, wondering how much he knew.
But he evaded my question, answering--
"I mean he's a sanguinary old idiot."
"He idolises Lily."
"I know that." Then, after a brief pause he added, "I may appear abrute, a silly fool and all the rest, but I tell you, Frank, I've actedfor the best."
"I can't see it."
"No, I don't suppose you can, old chap," he answered. "But you willentirely agree with my course of action some day ere long."
His words puzzled me, for they seemed to contain some hidden meaning.
"Are you absolutely certain that you've no further love for Lil?" Iinquired.
"Absolutely."
"And you are likewise equally certain that it is not the personal charmsof Mary Blain which have led you to take this step?"
"I'm quite certain of it," he answered. "You once loved Mary, remember,but broke it off. Surely we are all of us at liberty to choose our ownhelpmate in life?"
"Of course," I responded. "It was not, however, my fault that weparted. Mary was infatuated with another."
"That just bears out my argument," he went on. "She didn't love you,and therefore considered herself perfectly justified in her attachmentwith your rival. I don't love Lil."
"But it seems that you have parted from her in a really cruel andheartless manner. This isn't like you, Dick," I added reproachfully.
"Why are you her champion?" he asked, laughing. "Are you in love withher?"
"Not at all," I assured him with a smile. "Only I don't like to see agirl badly treated by any friend of mine."
"Oh, that's good!" he laughed. "You've treated girls badly in yourtime, I suppose. Have a peg, old fellow, and let's close the debate."Then he added, in the language of Parliament, where he so often reportedthe speeches of the Irish ranters, "I move that this House do nowadjourn."
"But I don't consider that you've acted with your usual tact in thisaffair," I protested, heedless of his words. "You could, of course,have broken if off in a much more honourable way if you had chosen."
"I've been quite honourable," he declared, in a tone of annoyance. "Itold her plainly that my love had cooled. Hark!" The clock on the innhall was striking midnight. "There's no suspension of the twelveo'clock rule. Shut up, Frank, and be damned to you."
He crossed to the sideboard, mixed a couple of whisky-and-sodas, andhanded me one, saying--
"Thirsty weather this. My mouth's as dry as a kipper."
I willingly admitted that the summer dust of London was conducive to thewholesale consumption of liquid, but was nevertheless reflecting uponhis remarkable change of manner towards Lily. Something, I believed,had occurred of which he had not told me.
He stretched himself in the armchair, placed his glass at his elbow, andbegan to blow a suffocating cloud from his most cherished briar.
"I wish you'd spend sixpence on a new pipe," I said, coughing.
"This one cost fourpence halfpenny in Fleet Street nearly two yearsago," he answered, without removing it from his lips. "Don't you likeit?"
"My dear fellow, it's awful."
"Ah! So they said at the office the other day. Don't notice itmyself."
"But others do. I'll make you a present of a new one to-morrow."
"Don't want it, old chap. Have a drink yourself with the money. Thisone's quite good enough for me. Besides, it'll keep the moths out ofour drawing-room furniture," and he gazed around the shabby apartment,where, from the leather-covered chairs, the mysterious stuffing was inmany places peeping forth upon the world.
We smoked on. Although I had been considerably annoyed by what he hadtold me regarding Lily, his imperturbable good humour caused me to laughoutright, whereat he observed--
"You're really a very funny beggar, Frank. I like you exceedingly,except when you try and dwell upon themes you don't understand. Thosewho do that are apt to wallow out of their depth. You don't know myreasons for throwing Lil over; therefore it's impossible for you toregale me with any good advice. You understand?"
"But what are your reasons?" I inquired.
"You shall know them before long," he assured me. "At present I don'tintend to say anything."
"This is the first time, Dick, we've had secrets from each other," Iobserved gravely.
"No," he answered. "You love the mysterious Eva, and have never told meso. That's a secret, isn't it?"
I was surprised that he had detected my love for her, and ratheralarmed, because if he had noticed it others had doubtless remarked italso. Therefore I questioned him, but he only laughed, saying--
"Why, anybody who saw you together down at Riverdene couldn't fail toguess the truth. People have sharp eyes, you know."
I was silent. If this were actually true, then I feared that I had madea hopeless fool of myself, besides wrecking any chance of elicitingthose facts which I had set my mind upon revealing at any hazard.
Presently he rose, crossing to his writing-table to scribble a letter,while I, lighting a cigarette, sat silent, still thinking seriously uponthe words he had just uttered.
Through the veil of tobacco smoke I seemed to see that fair, smilingface gazing at me, ever the same open countenance, the same clear eyesof childlike blue, the same half-parted mouth that I had first seen onthat fatal night in Phillimore Place. In my dream I thought that shebeckoned me to her, that she invited me to speak with her, and saw inher eyes a calm, sweet expression--the expression of true womanly love.It was but the chimera of an instant, a vision produced by mywildly-disordered brain, yet so vivid it
seemed that when it faded Iglanced across to my companion's bent figure, half fearing that he, too,had witnessed it.
There are times when our imagination plays us such tricks--times whenthe constant concentration of the mind reaches its climax and isreflected down the aimless vista of our vision, causing us to see theperson upon whom our thoughts are centred. Such a moment was this. Itaroused within me an instant and intense longing to walk again at herside, to speak to her, to hear her sweet, well-modulated voice--nay, totell her the deepest secret of my heart.
Thus it was that without invitation, or without previous introduction toLady Glaslyn, I called at the Hollies on the following afternoon. Aneat maid showed me into a cosy, rather small sitting-room, and for afew moments I remained there in expectancy. Although the house was nota large one it bore no stamp of the _nouveau riche_. It was exceedinglywell-furnished, and surrounded by spacious grounds, wherein were anumber of old yews and beeches. Old-fashioned, queer in its bygonetaste, it had stood there on the broad highway from
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