CONCLUSION
It was broad daylight now, but the blinds were all pulled down. I was inthe same room; my head felt on fire. Never had I suffered so terribly.Never, I hope and trust, shall I suffer so again. A woman beside the bedgently held my wrist--a nurse.
Something soothing was passed between my lips. It relieved me. I feltbetter.
Many days passed before I became convalescent--dark days of nightmare,hideous days of pain. A month elapsed before I was allowed to askquestions concerning that awful day and all that had taken place.
Three of the detectives had been shot dead--poor Ross had been the firstvictim. Five had been seriously wounded. Several others had beeninjured. But the entire gang of The Four Faces had finally beencaptured. Some had been arrested in the house, red-handed; among thesewere Connie Stapleton and Doris Lorrimer--guests at Eldon for the week,they had been discovered in Mrs. Stapleton's bedroom in the act ofpacking into a bag jewellery belonging to Lord and Lady Cranmere. Othershad been run down in the woods. Several had been arrested on suspicionat Clun Cross, and upon them had been found evidence proving theiridentity. Six cars had been held up and their occupants takeninto custody.
What upset me most, when all this was told to me, was the news of poorRoss's death. During the short time I had known him I had taken a strongliking to him. He had seemed such a thoroughly honest fellow, sostraightforward in every way. He had a wife and several children, he hadtold me--several times he had spoken of his wife, to whom he hadevidently been devoted. And he had so looked forward to the time, nowonly two years off, when he would have retired on his pension andreturned to his native county--returned to settle down, if possible, onthe Eldon Hall estate. Yet in an instant he had been shot down like adog by one of those scoundrels he was helping to arrest. It all seemedtoo terrible, too sad. Well, as soon as I was sufficiently recovered toget about again I would, I decided, visit his widow in London, and seeif I could help her in any way.
* * * * *
Six weeks had passed, and I was almost well again. Once more I wasstaying at Holt Manor. Already the breath of spring was in the air. SirRoland, recovered at last from the mental shock he had sustained, wasthere. Aunt Hannah was away, making her annual round of visits. Dulcieand I were wholly undisturbed, except by little Dick, who was at homefor his Easter holidays.
As we sauntered in the beautiful woods on a sunny afternoon towards theend of April, discussing our plans for the honeymoon--for we were to bemarried in a week's time--Dulcie suddenly asked, apropos of nothing:
"Mike, why did that detective, Albeury, make you go to Eldon Hall? Youwere not to take part in the capture. You could quite well have stayedin London."
"In a way that was a mistake," I answered. "He never intended that Ishould go further than the farm two miles from the Hall, where we hadpulled up. He thought he would need me to identify some of the men aboutto be arrested, and so he wanted me on the spot. But he had not told mewhy he wanted me there, so when the police officers prepared to startout for Eldon from the farm, naturally I insisted upon going withthem--I wanted to see some of the fun, or what I thought was going to bean extremely exciting event."
"Which it proved to be," she said seriously.
Just then I remembered something.
"Look, my darling," I said, "what I received this morning."
I drew out of my pocket a letter, and handed it to her. It bore a Germanpostmark. It had been posted in Alsace-Lorraine.
She unfolded the letter, and slowly read it through.
"How dreadful," she said. "Poor Jack!"
I paused.
"It may not be," I said at last. "All his life he has done odd andunexpected things, and they have generally turned out well. He haswritten to me twice since he left England, and I am convinced, now, thathe and Jasmine Gastrell--or rather Jasmine Osborne--are tremendously inlove with each other. I told you of his idea that she would, when he hadmarried her, entirely change her life. Perhaps that idea is not asquixotic as we first thought."
"Perhaps, if they really love each other--" she began, then stoppedabruptly.
"My darling," I murmured, "is there any miracle that love isn't able toaccomplish? Look what you have faced, what I have faced, during thesedreadful months of anxiety and peril. It was love alone thatstrengthened us--love alone that held us together in those moments ofterrible crises. Come."
So we turned slowly homeward in the golden light of the springafternoon, secure in our love for one another and in the knowledge thatthe black shadows which had darkened our lives during the past monthshad at last vanished for ever.
THE END
The Four Faces: A Mystery Page 29