Havoc

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXXIV

  MORRISON'S DISCLOSURE

  Into New Oxford Street, one of the ceaseless streams of polyglothumanity, came Zoe from her cheerless day bound for the theatre.She was a little whiter, a little more tired than usual. All daylong she had heard nothing of Laverick. All day long she had satin her tiny room with the memory of that horrible night before her.She had tried in vain to sleep,--she had made no effort whateverto eat. She knew now why Arthur Morrison had fled away. She knewthe cause of that paroxysm of fear in which he had sought her out.The horror of the whole thing had crept into her blood like poison.Life was once more a dreary, profitless struggle. All the wonderfuldreams, which had made existence seem almost like a fairy-tale forthis last week, had faded away. She was once more a mournfullittle waif among the pitiless crowds.

  She turned to the left and past the Holborn Tube. Boys wereshouting everywhere the contents of the evening papers. Nearlyevery one seemed to be carrying one of the pink sheets. She herselfpassed on with unseeing eyes. News was nothing to her. Governmentsmight rise and fall, war might come and go,--she had still life tosupport, a friendless little life, too, on two pounds fifteenshillings a week. The news they shouted fell upon deaf ears, butone boy unfurled almost before her eyes the headlines of his sheet.

  SENSATIONAL ARREST OF A WELL-KNOWN STOCKBROKER. CHARGE OF MURDER.

  She came to a sudden stop and pulled out her purse. Her fingerstrembled so that the penny fell on to the pavement. The boy pickedit up willingly enough, however, and she passed on with the paper inher hand. There it was on the front page--staring her in the face:

  Early yesterday morning Mr. Stephen Laverick, of the firm of Laverick & Morrison, Stockbrokers, Old Broad Street, was arrested at the Milan Hotel on the charge of being concerned in the murder of a person unknown, in Crooked Friars' Alley, on Monday last. The accused, who made no reply to the charge, was removed to Bow Street Police-Station. Particulars of his examination before the magistrates will be found on page 4.

  There was a dull singing in her ears. An electric tram, coming upfrom the underground passage, seemed to bring with it some sort ofthunder from an unknown world. She staggered on, unseeing, gaspingfor breath. If she could find somewhere to sit down! If she couldonly rest for a moment! Then a sudden wave of strength came to her,the blood flowed once more in her veins--blood that was hot withanger, that stained her cheeks with a spot of red. It was the manshe loved, this, being made to suffer falsely. It was the fulfilmentof their threat--a deliberate plot against him. The murderer ofCrooked Friars' Alley--she knew who that was!--she knew! Perhapsshe might help!

  She had not the slightest recollection of the remainder of thatwalk, but she found herself presently sitting in a quiet corner ofthe theatre with the paper spread out before her. She read thatStephen Laverick had been brought before Mr. Rawson, the magistrateof Bow Street Police Court, on a warrant charging him with havingbeen concerned with the murder of a person unknown, and that he hadpleaded "Not Guilty!" Her eyes glittered as she read that thefirst witness called was Mr. Arthur Morrison, late partner of theaccused. She read his deposition--that he had left Laverick attheir offices at eleven o'clock on the night in question, that theywere at that time absolutely without means, and had no prospectof meeting their engagements on the morrow. She read the evidenceof Mr. Fenwick, bank manager, to the effect that Mr. Laverick had,on the following morning, deposited with him the sum of twentythousand pounds in Bank of England notes, by means of which theengagements of the firm were duly met, that those notes had sincebeen redeemed, and that he had no idea of their present whereabouts.She read, too, the evidence of Adolf Kahn, an Austrian visitingthis country upon private business, who deposed that he was in thevicinity just before midnight, that he saw a person, whom heidentified as the accused, walking down the street and, afterdisappearing for a few minutes down the entry, return and re-enterthe offices from which he had issued. He explained his presencethere by the fact that he was waiting for a clerk employed by theGoldfields' Corporation, Limited, whose offices were close by.Further formal evidence was given, and a remand asked for. Theaccused's solicitor was on the point of addressing the court whenMr. Rawson was unfortunately taken ill. After waiting for sometime, the case was adjourned until the next day, and the accusedman was removed in custody.

  Zoe laid down the paper and rose to her feet. She made her way towhere the stage-manager was superintending the erection of some newscenery.

  "Mr. Heepman," she exclaimed, "I cannot stay to rehearsal! I haveto go out."

  He turned heavily round and looked at her.

  "Rehearsal postponed," he declared solemnly. "Shall you be backfor the evening performance, or shall we close the theatre?"

  His clumsy irony missed its mark. Her thoughts were too intenselyfocussed upon one thing.

  "I am sorry," she replied, turning away. "I will come back as soonas I can."

  He called out after her and she paused.

  "Look here," he said, "you were absent from the performance theother evening, and now you are skipping rehearsal without evenwaiting for permission. It can't be done, young lady. You mustdo your playing around some other time. If you're not here whenyou're called, you needn't trouble to turn up again. Do youunderstand?"

  Her lips quivered and the sense of impending disaster which seemedto be brooding over her life became almost overwhelming.

  "I'll come back as soon as I can," she promised, with a little breakin her voice,--"as soon as ever I can, Mr. Heepman."

  She hurried out of the theatre and took her place once more amongthe hurrying throng of pedestrians. Several people turned round tolook at her. Her white face, tight-drawn mouth, and eyes almostunnaturally large, seemed to have become the abiding-place fortragedy. She herself saw no one. She would have taken a cab, buta glimpse at the contents of her purse dissuaded her. She walkedsteadily on to Jermyn Street, walked up the stairs to the thirdfloor, and knocked at her brother's door. No one answered her atfirst. She turned the handle and entered to find the room empty.There were sounds, however, in the further apartment, and shecalled out to him.

  "Arthur," she cried, "are you there?"

  "Who is it?" he demanded.

  "It is I--Zoe!" she exclaimed.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want to speak to you, Arthur. I must speak to you. Pleasecome as quickly as you can."

  He growled something and in a few moments he appeared. He waswearing the morning clothes in which he had attended court earlierin the day, but the change in him was perhaps all the more markedby reason of this resumption of his old attire. His cheeks werehollow, his eyes scarcely for an instant seemed to lose thatfeverish gleam of terror with which he had returned from Liverpool.He knew very well what she had come about, and he began nervouslyto try and bully her.

  "I wish you wouldn't come to these rooms, Zoe," he said. "I'vetold you before they're bachelors' apartments, and they don't likewomen about the place. What is it? What do you want?"

  "I was brought here last time without any particular desire on mypart," she answered, looking him in the face. "I've come now toask you what accursed plot this is against Stephen Laverick? Whatwere you doing in the court this morning, lying? What is themeaning of it, Arthur?"

  "If you've come to talk rubbish like that," he declared roughly,"you'd better be off."

  "No, it is not rubbish!" she went on fearlessly. "I think I canunderstand what it is that has happened. They have terrified youand bribed you until you are willing to do any despicable thing--eventhis. Your father was good to my mother, Arthur, and Ihave tried to feel towards you as though you were indeed a relation.But nothing of that counts. I want you to realize that I know thetruth, and that I will not see an innocent man convicted while theguilty go free."

  He moved a step towards her. They were on opposite sides of thesmall round tabl
e which stood in the centre of the apartment.

  "What do you mean?" he demanded hoarsely.

  "Isn't it plain enough?" she exclaimed. "You came to my rooms aweek or so ago, a terrified, broken-down man. If ever there wasguilt in a man's face, it was in yours. You sent for Laverick. Hepitied you and helped you away. At Liverpool they would not letyou embark--these men. They have brought you back here. You aretheir tool. But you know very well, Arthur, that it was not StephenLaverick who killed the man in Crooked Friars' Alley! You know verywell that it was not Stephen Laverick!"

  "Why the devil should I know anything about it?" he asked fiercely.

  A note of passion suddenly crept into her voice. Her little whitehand, with its accusing forefinger, shot out towards him.

  "Because it was you, Arthur Morrison, who committed that crime," shecried, "and sooner than another man should suffer for it, I shallgo to court myself and tell the truth."

  He was, for the moment, absolutely speechless, pale as death, withnervously twitching lips and fingers. But there was murder in his eyes.

  "What do you know about this?" he muttered.

  "Never mind," she answered. "I know and I guess quite enough toconvince me--and I think anybody else--that you are the guilty man.I would have helped you and shielded you, whatever it cost me, butI will not do so at Stephen Laverick's expense."

  "What is Laverick to you?" he growled.

  "He is nothing to me," she replied, "but the best of friends. Evenwere he less than that, do you suppose that I would let an innocentman suffer?"

  He moistened his dry lips rapidly.

  "You are talking nonsense, Zoe," he said,--"nonsense! Even ifthere has been some little mistake, what could I do now? I havegiven my evidence. So far as I am concerned, the case is finished.I shall not be called again until the trial."

  "Then you had better go to the magistrates tomorrow morning andtake back your evidence," she declared boldly, "for if you do not,I shall be there and I shall tell the truth."

  "Zoe," he gasped, "don't try me too high. This thing has upset me.I'm ill. Can't you see it, Zoe? Look at me. I haven't slept forweeks. Night and day I've had the fear--the fear always with me.You don't know what it is--you can't imagine. It's like a terribleghost, keeping pace with you wherever you go, laying his icy fingerupon you whenever you would rest, mocking at you when you try todrown thought even for a moment. Don't you try me too far, Zoe.I'm not responsible. Laverick isn't the man you think him to be.He isn't the man I believed. He did have that money--he did,indeed."

  "That," she said, "is to be explained. But he is not a murderer."

  "Listen to me, Zoe," Morrison continued, leaning across the table."Come and stay with me for a time and we will go away for aweek--somewhere to the seaside. We will talk about this and think itover. I want to get away from London. We will go to Brighton, ifyou like. I must do something for you, Zoe. I'm afraid I'veneglected you a good deal. Perhaps I could get you a better partat one of the theatres. I must make you an allowance. You oughtto be wearing better clothes."

  She drew a little away.

  "I want nothing from you, Arthur," she said, "except this--thatyou speak the truth."

  He wiped his forehead and struck the table before her.

  "But, good God, Zoe!" he exclaimed, "do you know what it is thatyou are asking me? Do you want me to go into court and say--'Thatisn't the man... It is I who am the murderer'? Do you want me tofeel their hands upon my shoulder, to be put there in the dock andhave all the people staring at me curiously because they know thatbefore very long I am to stand upon the scaffold and have that ropearound my neck and--"

  He broke off with a low cry, wringing his hands like a child in afit of impotent terror. But the girl in front of him never flinched.

  "Arthur," she said, "crime is a terrible thing, but nothing in theworld can alter its punishment. If it is frightful for you tothink of this, what must it be for him? And you are guilty and heis not."

  "I was mad!" Morrison went on, now almost beside himself. "Zoe, Iwas mad! I called there to have a drink. We were broke,--the firmwas broke. I'd a hundred or so in my pocket and I was going to boltthe next day. And there, within a few yards of me, was that man,with such a roll of notes as I had never seen in my life. Fivehundred pounds, every one of them, and a wad as thick as my fists.Zoe, they fascinated me. I had two drinks quickly and I followedhim out. Somehow or other, I found that I'd caught up a knife thatwas on the counter. I never meant to hurt him seriously, but Iwanted some of those notes! I was leaving the next day for Africaand I hadn't enough money to make a fair start. I wanted it--myGod, how I wanted money!"

  "It couldn't have been worth--that!" she cried, looking at himwonderingly.

  "I was mad," he continued. "I saw the notes and they went to myhead. Men do wild things sometimes when they are drunk, or forlove. I don't drink much, and I'm not over fond of women, but, myGod, money is like the blood of my body to me! I saw it, and Iwanted it and I wanted it, and I went mad! Zoe, you won't give meaway? Say you won't!"

  "But what am I to do?" she protested. "He must not suffer."

  "He'll get off," Morrison assured her thickly. "I tell you he'llget off. He's only to part with the document, which never belongedto him, and the charge will be withdrawn. They know who themurdered man was. They know where the money came from which he wascarrying. I tell you he can save himself. You wouldn't dream ofsending me to the gallows, Zoe!"

  "Stephen Laverick will never give up that document to those people,"she declared. "I am sure of that."

  "It's his own lookout," Morrison muttered. "He has the chance,anyway."

  She turned toward the door.

  "I must go away," she said. "I must go away and think. It is alltoo horrible."

  He came round the table swiftly and caught at her wrists.

  "Listen," he said, "I can't let you go like this. You must tell methat you are not going to give me up. Do you hear?"

  "I can make no promises, Arthur," she answered sadly, "only this--Ishall not let Stephen Laverick suffer in your stead."

  He opened his hand and she shrank back, terrified, when she saw whatit was that he was holding. Then he struck her down and without abackward glance fled out of the place.