Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3

by B. L. Farjeon

  CHAPTER XLV.

  RETRIBUTION.

  When Frederick Holdfast turned the key in the lock, Pelham raised hishead, and looked in alarm at Mrs. Holdfast. She, also, hearing thesound, slightly raised herself from the bed upon which she was recliningand looked into Pelham's face. Dazed with fear, they remained thus,transfixed, gazing at each other, and did not speak for full a minute.Then Pelham, with his finger on his lips, looked upward to the ceiling,in the supposition that the sound had proceeded from above. For fullanother minute neither of them moved.

  "Did you hear anything?" asked Pelham, in a whisper. "Speak low."

  "Yes," she replied, trembling with fear.

  "What do you think it was?"

  "God knows," said the terrified woman. "You told me no person was in thehouse."

  "Nor has there been," he said, "nor is there, I believe. But there maybe rats. We will give up the house to them. What are you staring at, youfool?" he cried, turning swiftly round.

  "I thought I saw a shadow moving behind you," she whispered.

  "There's nothing here."

  "No, it's gone. It was my fancy. Pelham, I am frightened."

  "What did you come here for? I advised you to go home, but you had thedevil in you, and would have your way. Let us make an end of this. Inmischief's name, what's the matter with you now?"

  "Hush!" she exclaimed, seizing his hand.

  "Well, what is it?" he demanded roughly.

  "I heard a whistle outside."

  "What of that? Boys whistling in the streets are common enough."

  "It was not a boy whistling. It was a shrill sound, as though some onewas calling men about him."

  "Or calling a cab."

  "Hark! there it is again."

  These were the two whistles by which Frederick summoned the detective.

  "It is not a boy whistling a tune," said Pelham, "nor a summons for acab. I don't suppose it concerns us, but you have succeeded in putting astop to my work. I'll do no more. Your dead husband's Will, if he madeone, and anything else he wrote, will soon be out of reach of livingman. Now for the finishing touches."

  He poured the spirit about the room, and saturated some sheets of paperwith it, placing them beneath the boards in such a way as to produce aneffectual blaze the moment a light was applied to them.

  "I am quite an artist," he said, laughing. "In five minutes there willbe a conflagration which will spread too rapidly for a fire engine toextinguish until everything on this floor at least is burnt to ashes.Grace, old girl, this is a business that suits me; I was never meantfor milk-and-water work. The house on fire, and we a mile away, and alldanger will be over."

  His gleeful tone jarred upon his guilty associate.

  "Work in silence," she said, with a shudder. "Do you forget what wasdone in this room the last time we were here together?"

  "Forget!" he exclaimed. "No, I shall never forget. But it does nottrouble me. Every man for himself--it is nature's law, and he is afool who allows himself to be trampled on and ruined, when he has theopportunity of putting his enemy out of the way. Well, it is done, and Iam going to reap. These last twelve months I have led the life of a dog;now I'll live like a gentleman. There! everything is ready. Now forescape. Grace, you go first to the top of the house, and wait for me.The moment I set fire to this rubbish, I will join you. We will get backinto the next house, where there will be plenty of people to help tosave the furniture; we will mix with them, and in the confusion slipoff. A kiss, Grace, for luck!"

  They kissed each other, and she went to the door, and turned the handle,but could not open the door. It was fast.

  "My God!" she screamed. "We are locked in!"

  The full meaning of this flashed instantly upon them.

  "Trapped!" cried Pelham, savagely.

  He knew well that the game was up, and that nothing short of a miraclewould save him. The sound they had heard was the clicking of the lock;the whistles they had heard were a summons to their pursuers. While theyhad deemed themselves safe, enemies had been watching them. They werecaught in their own trap.

  Pelham strove to force the door open, but had not sufficient strength.

  "I am as weak as a rat," he muttered hoarsely, "but there is still achance."

  He tore the sheets from the bed, and in an incredibly short space oftime, working like a madman, knotted them together. His design was toescape from the house by the back window, but he could find no hold forhis rope within the room. As he looked eagerly around he felt himselfseized by Grace.

  "Save me!" she cried, hysterically. "It is there again--the Shadow ofthe man we murdered!"

  He shook her off, and in her terror, she slipped back, and overturnedthe candlestick, which was on the floor, with a lighted candle in it.The light instantly communicated itself to the spirit and inflammablematter which Pelham had scattered about, and the next moment the roomwas in a blaze. Vainly did Pelham strive to beat out the fire. Blindedby the smoke, and the flames which presently enveloped them, theystaggered and stumbled in their tomb of fire, and then it was that Gracegave utterance to the terrible cry of anguish which drove the blood fromthe cheeks of the crowd of people surging in Great Porter Square.

  CHAPTER XLVI.

  IN WHICH THE "EVENING MOON" GIVES A SEQUEL TO ITS "ROMANCE IN REALLIFE."

  We have much pleasure (said the _Evening Moon_, two days after the fire)in presenting our readers with the last act of a drama which, in plot,incident, and extraordinary development of character, equals anything inthe way of sensationalism which has ever graced theatrical boards. Theopportunity is an agreeable one to us, as it enables us to do justiceto a gentleman who has had reason to complain of what has appeared inour columns concerning him. What we have to say resolves itself intosomething more than the last act of a drama; it is both that and thecommencement of a Sequel which, in all human probability, and becauseof the nature of the persons engaged in it, will have a happier endingthan that which has been closed by the burning down of the house,No. 119, Great Porter Square.

  In our yesterday's issues we gave the full particulars of that fire.No one was injured except the two wretched beings who met their justand awful fate in the grave they had prepared for themselves. Theyhave passed away from this world, but it will be long before thememory of their crime and its involvements will be forgotten. It hasbeen determined to pull down the fatal house in which the murder wascommitted, and to rebuild it anew. The house next to it, No. 118,occupied by Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, received some damagefrom the fire; but Mrs. Preedy is fully insured, and her loss will bea gain to her--a paradox, but strictly accurate, for the murder in theadjoining house had brought hers into disrepute, and her business waslanguishing. It will revive now that the fire has burnt out the terrorof the crime; and the worthy Mrs. Preedy may congratulate herselfupon having gained friends in the persons of Mr. Frederick Holdfastand the intrepid, noble-hearted lady who will shortly bear his name.

  In Mrs. Preedy's house lived an old bedridden lady, Mrs. Bailey,whose life was with some difficulty saved. She herself placed seriousobstacles in the way of her preservation, screaming out when theyattempted to remove her from her bed. She clung to this household godwith such tenacity that there was nothing for it but to humour the oldlady, and to remove it with her. As they carried it down stairs, thecovering was by an accident ripped, and there rolled out of it betweenthirty and forty sovereigns, which Mrs. Bailey had hoarded up since thedeath of her husband, an event which occurred Heaven knows how manyyears ago. The distress of the old lady was extreme, but the gold waspicked up and returned to its owner, minus a few sovereigns, whichsomehow had stuck to the fingers of the searchers. She is, however,no loser by the accident, as Mr. Frederick Holdfast made good thedeficiency. It is satisfactory to learn that a cherished traditioncurrent in Great Porter Square, that the old lady's mattress was stuffedwith gold, was verified by the ripping of the sacking. Mrs. Bailey willno doubt find another safe for her treasure in the future. The bedriddenold lady sus
tained a loss in the burning of a linnet without a note toits voice, and a very old bull-finch, whose cage hung at the foot of herbed--a sacrifice of life, in addition to the more terrible sacrifice oftwo human beings, which we were almost forgetting to mention.

  In another part of our paper will be found a full report of theproceedings at the inquest upon the bodies of the man and woman, whichwere found in the back room of No. 119, Great Porter Square. The inquestwas held this morning, and a verdict of accidental death by burning wasreturned. As a rule such inquests are dull, miserable affairs, and thereis but little variety in the evidence presented to the coroner and hispanel, but in this special case were elements of unexpected romancewhich raised it far above the ordinary level of a simple death bymisadventure.

  Last evening a private note was sent to our office, signed by FrederickHoldfast, requesting as an act of justice, that the Special Reporter whowrote "The Romance of Real Life" from Mrs. Holdfast's account of hercareer and misfortunes, should attend and take whatever notice of theproceedings he might deem fit and proper. In accordance with the requestour Special Reporter attended, and the present report is written by himfor our paper. The disclosures which were made at the inquest were asinteresting as they were surprising, and our Reporter thanks Mr.Frederick Holdfast for the opportunity afforded him of being present.

  At the inquest our Reporter renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Goldberry,solicitor, a gentleman whose name will be remembered as havingvoluntarily come forward to defend Antony Cowlrick at the Martin StreetPolice Court, when, upon the barest suspicion, without a tittle ofdirect evidence, that person was accused by the police of the murder ofa man unknown in No. 119, Great Porter Square. Our readers will rememberhow stoutly, and under what disadvantages, Mr. Goldberry defended theman wrongfully accused of the crime; how he protested against thenumerous remands, and lifted up his voice in the cause of justiceagainst Scotland Yard officialism; and how at length, to the manifestchagrin of the police, Antony Cowlrick was discharged from custody. Theparticulars of the interview which took place in Leicester Square, a fewminutes after Antony Cowlrick's departure from the Police Court, betweenour Reporter, Mr. Goldberry, and the accused man, was fully reportedin our columns. In that interview our Reporter lent Antony Cowlrick asovereign, which was faithfully repaid. We purpose reprinting in apamphlet that report and the "Romance in Real Life," in addition to whatappears in our present issue relating to the case. They are worthy ofa record in a more permanent form than the columns of a newspaper.

  "Do you remember," said Mr. Goldberry to our Reporter, referring tothat interview, "that Antony Cowlrick said to me that if at any time heshould need my services, he would call upon or send for me?"

  "I do," replied our Reporter, "and I remember, also, that AntonyCowlrick asked you if you thought God would allow the guilty to escape,or that He needed the assistance of a lawyer to punish the man who shedanother's blood."

  "Yes," said Mr. Goldberry, gravely, "he used those words, and in thiscase they are justified by events. God has punished the murdererswithout the assistance of a lawyer."

  "Why do you recall the name of Antony Cowlrick?" inquired our Reporter.

  "Because I am here to represent him. He has not only paid me for my pastservices--forcing the money upon me--but he has thanked me for them,which, in the bitterness of his heart, he declined to do, although hewas not asked, when he was finally discharged."

  "I had a suspicion," remarked our Reporter, "at that time that he was agentleman; he spoke like one, and had the manner of one. It was chieflyfor that reason I took an interest in him."

  "No, no," said Mr. Goldberry, jocosely; "you wanted copy. Every man tohis trade."

  "I could retort with good effect," said our Reporter, good-humouredly,"but I spare you. Will Antony Cowlrick be here this morning?"

  "Yes, and others whom you know."

  At this moment a lady and a gentleman entered the room in which theinquest was held, and advancing to Mr. Goldberry shook hands with him.The gentleman was Antony Cowlrick, who, after a few words with hislawyer, turned, and offered his hand to our Reporter.

  "I must apologise," he said, "for not having kept the half-appointmentI made with you on the day you so generously lent me the sovereign inLeicester Square, but I had my reasons, which you will understand whenI tell you as much of my story as I think it proper for you to know."

  "I attend here," said our Reporter, "on behalf of my paper, in responseto a letter sent to our editor by Mr. Frederick Holdfast."

  "I am Frederick Holdfast," said the gentleman. "Antony Cowlrick was anassumed name; I could not use my own when I was falsely accused of themurder of my father."

  He turned aside with quivering lips, and our Reporter, holding hisgrief in respect, did not intrude upon it. The face of the lady whoaccompanied Frederick Holdfast appeared singularly familiar to ourReporter, and his curiosity was presently appeased by Mr. Goldberry, whoinformed him that she was the lady who, by the happiest of chances, metMr. Frederick Holdfast in Leicester Square after his discharge.

  "Were she willing to allow herself to be used in such a way," observedthe lawyer, "her photograph to-morrow could be sold in thousands allover England. But she does not belong to that class of woman. She is aheroine, in the truest sense of the word. Mrs. Holdfast, who suppliedyou with a Romance in Real Life fit for a novel instead of the columnsof a newspaper, would not, in such circumstances as these, havewithstood the temptation. But there are women and women."

  "I grant you," said our Reporter, "that I was deceived in the characterof Mrs. Holdfast. Am I the first who has been beguiled by the softspeeches of a fair woman? And, my dear sir, if you want novels andromances, take my word for it, you cannot do better than go to thecolumns of a newspaper for them. What has become of Mrs. Holdfast'sbaby?"

  "The child will be cared for," replied Mr. Goldberry, "by FrederickHoldfast, and will be brought up in ignorance of her mother's crimes."

  The proceedings at the inquest commenced languidly, but were soonbrightened by the extraordinary revelations made by the witnesses. Thebodies of the two persons burnt to death were identified, and thenevidence was given, in dramatic sequence, in proof that, at the time oftheir death, the deceased were engaged in unlawful proceedings, and thatthe male deceased had formed a deliberate plan for setting fire to thehouse.

  Mrs. Preedy, lodging-house keeper, deposed to the letting of a furnishedattic to a man who gave the name of Richard Manx, and who spoke like aforeigner. The rent of this attic was three shillings a week, but shehad never seen the colour of Richard Manx's money; he "gave out" to herthat he was very poor; she had no doubt he was the man who was founddead in the next house; neither had she any doubt that it was he who hadspread the report that her house was haunted, and that he did it to ruinher. This witness rambled in her evidence, and caused great laughter byher irrelevant replies to questions.

  Mrs. Whittaker, lodging-house keeper in Buckingham Palace Road, deposedto the letting of her first-floor to Mr. Pelham at a rental of threeguineas per week. He paid his rent regularly, and she believed him to bea gentleman of considerable means. She recognised the body of the maledeceased as Mr. Pelham.

  The principal detective employed by Mr. Frederick Holdfast testifiedthat the male body was that of Richard Manx, otherwise Pelham, anotorious blackleg; that he had lodged at No. 118, Great Porter Squareas Richard Manx, and in Buckingham Palace Road as Mr. Pelham; that he(the detective) was employed to watch the deceased on suspicion that hewas implicated in the murder of Mr. Holdfast, senior; that on the nightof the fire he saw a female enter 118, Great Porter Square, in thecompany of the deceased; and that this female was Mrs. Holdfast, widowof the gentleman who had been murdered some months ago.

  A sensation was then caused by the appearance of Mr. Frederick Holdfastas a witness. He recognised the bodies as those of Mr. Pelham and Mrs.Holdfast, his father's second wife. Before his father contracted asecond marriage he had an acquaintance with the deceased persons inOxford. Mr. Pelham
was a blackleg, and had been expelled from thecompany of gentlemen for cheating with dice; and Mrs. Holdfast was awoman not entitled to respect. The witness, in reply to questions putby his lawyer, Mr. Goldberry, said he was the man who, under the nameof Antony Cowlrick, had been wrongfully charged at the Martin StreetPolice-court with the murder of a gentleman, who, it was now known, washis father; and that he had in his possession evidence in his father'shandwriting which proved, beyond the possibility of doubt, that hisfather had been murdered by one or both of the deceased. The otherportions of this witness's evidence, relating to his taking possessionof the house No. 119 Great Porter Square, and to the watch he set uponMr. Pelham's movements, are fully detailed in our verbatim report ofthe inquest, and will be found most startling and dramatic.

  Even more dramatic was the evidence of the next witness, BlancheDaffarn, Mr. Frederick Holdfast's _fiancee_, a young lady of greatpersonal attractions. For the purpose of clearing her lover from thedreadful accusation brought against him, she had disguised herself as aservant, and had taken service as a maid-of-all-work with Mrs. Preedy.It was through her instrumentality that Pelham and Richard Manx werediscovered to be one and the same person, and had it not been for hercourage and devotion there is but little doubt that the guilty oneswould have escaped. She gave her evidence with clearness and modesty,and she was frequently interrupted by murmurs of applause, which theCoroner did not attempt to suppress.

  It might have been supposed that the climax of interest was reached whenthe fair witness, towards whom every face in the room was turned inadmiration, took her seat; but it was not; a higher point was attainedupon the appearance of a little girl, a mere child, whom our Reporterat once recognised as Fanny, a match girl, with whom our readers havealready made acquaintance. The brightness, the vivacity, and theadventures of this little waif in connection with the case, no less thanher sensibility and gratitude towards her guardian angel, Miss BlancheDaffarn, produced a profound impression. It would be hard to say whethertears or smiles predominated while this intelligent and grateful childstood before the Coroner; both were freely produced by the wonderfultouches of nature which gleamed through little Fanny's narrative, whichshe was allowed to relate almost without interruption from Coroner andjury. It is pleasant to be able to state that Fanny's future is madesafe; Mr. Frederick Holdfast and his _fiancee_ are her protectors. Thechild is rescued from the gin shop and the gutter.

  The inquest was over, and still the persons in the crowded room lingeredfor a parting glance at those who had played their parts in the strangeand varied drama. The interest in the proceedings had extended beyondthe Court, and a large concourse of persons had gathered outside, eagerto see the brave young lady and the child, whose names will be mentionedin terms of admiration in every home in the kingdom. Such is the powerof the newspaper. To convey to remote distances, into village and city,to the firesides of the poor and the rich, the records of ennoblingdeeds, and to cause "God bless you little Fanny!" "May you live happylives, Frederick and Blanche!" to be breathed by the millions whosehearts shall be stirred by this story of love and crime, of cunningwhich over-reached itself and suffering which blossomed into sweetness,the last scenes of which were enacted in a common lodging-house in GreatPorter Square.

  _THE END._

  Transcriber's note

  Words in italics have been surrounded by _underscores_ and smallcapitals have been changed to all capitals.

  Punctuation errors have been corrected silently. Also thefollowing corrections have been made, on page

  iv "XLIV" changed to "XLVI" (XLVI.--In which the "Evening Moon" gives a sequel) 12 "be" changed to "he" (in secret to kill the father he betrayed!) 23 "the the" changed to "the" (raised the child's head) 32 "sindirect" changed to "indirect" (in an indirect way) 50 "were" changed to "where" (into the shop where people are served) 84 "Mr." changed to "Mrs." (gave her to deliver to Mrs. Holdfast) 165 "thoughful" changed to "thoughtful" (Kind, thoughtful husband) 189 "a" changed to "as" (in as few words as possible) 229 "in in" changed to "in" (what appears in our present issue).

  Otherwise the original has been preserved, including inconsistentspelling and hyphenation.