Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery

"Ah," said Dr. Vinsen, shrugging his shoulders, "great discoveries-your great discoveries, ending in visions."

"To you, visions; to me, reality. The age of miracles is not yet past. It is my intention to get out of this country, and return to Italy, where there is light, where the sun shines. This atmosphere, these leaden skies, these black nights, are fatal. I must release myself. My purpose is fixed."

"And mine."

Both spoke in a tone of decision, and both had a motive-spring which had yet to be revealed.

"Let us come back to earth," said Dr. Vinsen, "and above all, let us be practical. There are accounts between us which must be settled-pray do not forget that."

"I will not."

"You were at the inquest to-day," said Dr. Vinsen, rather uneasily, for there was a menace in Dr. Pye's tone. "The papers report you fully. Your warning to the jury not to be led away by a resemblance that might be accidental was a masterstroke. It produced a good effect, but will it assist Mr. Reginald Boyd? We shall see-we shall see. Justice is slow. Were you to formulate a code you would make it swifter, surer-eh, my friend?"

"I would make it swift as sudden death to all who stood in my path," said Dr. Pye, and now there was a cold glitter in his eyes as he looked at his visitor.

"No doubt, no doubt, and no feeling of mercy would restrain you; but we cannot break through the meshes. Sentinels stand at every corner, and slow as justice is in these mean streets, of which you have so poor an opinion, its eyes are never closed. It is fortunate for some that it can occasionally be hoodwinked by a master mind, to which" (here he bent his head, half in mockery, half in sincerity) "I pay tribute. That poor woman, Mrs. Abel Death, has had no news of her husband-singular, is it not? Her strange little child Gracie, I regret to say, views me with disfavour. It is some compensation that her mother regards us as her benefactors; and in some respects we deserve to be so regarded. The expenditure of money in that quarter has not been entirely thrown away-not en-tire-ly thrown a-way. It has assisted me to direct public opinion, and to keep watch upon my friend Remington, whom I would like to plunge to the bottom of the Red Sea, to rot with the bones of the Egyptians."

That a man so mild in voice and so bland in manner should break into sudden malignity was surprising.

"He is better where he is," said Dr. Pye; "his living presence is necessary. People shoot wild when there is no target to aim at, and a chance shot might hit the mark."

"Always profound," said Dr. Vinsen, admiringly, "always, always profound. A target-yes, a target. It is a thousand pities, my dear friend, that you are not in all things more practical and less imaginative. Take, for instance, these gewgaws by which you are surrounded, these flasks and vases, these jewelled trifles, this curiously wrought work from some Eastern country-of what avail are they for the true pleasures of life?" Dr. Pye was silent. "You may say, perhaps, they feed the artistic sense. As I believe only in what I see, so do I believe only in what I feel. Better to feed the material senses-far more rational. If what you have presented to my view in your character is genuine, and not the outcome of a deliberate intention to deceive-in-ten-tion to de-ceive-it is composed of singularly contradictory qualities. In a certain sense, unique, for who would expect to find Alnaschar dreams floating among the fleshpots of Egypt? Your taste in wine is not to be excelled-I approve of it; it is a passion you carry to an excess which I consider as ridiculous as it is unwise-still, in the main, I approve of it. Good wine nourishes the tissues, helps to prolong life. Hippocrates and many long-headed ancients have something to say on this head. But these lifeless memorials of a dead past, in which there is no vitality, which are eternally the same, dumb and expressionless-My dear friend, I fear you are not listening."

"My thoughts are elsewhere," said Dr. Pye, rising and approaching the window. Dr. Vinsen followed him, with suspicion and discontent on his face. For the fourth time on this night the room was plunged in darkness; for the fourth time the circular lid of the shutter was drawn aside.

"There, there!" whispered Dr. Pye. "What do you see?"

Dr. Vinsen peered into the night. "I see nothing."

"Stand back."

Swift as thought he threw the flash-light upon the windows of Samuel Boyd's house. Then he masked the shutter and turned on the gas. Accompanied by Dr. Vinsen, who jealously watched his every movement, he stepped to the table, withdrew the film from the little machine, and developed it. And there before them came gradually into view the pictured presentment of the face and form of Samuel Boyd, standing at the window of his house in Catchpole Square.

Dr. Vinsen's face was pallid, his eyes dilated, his teeth chattered. Dr. Pye's face was thoughtful, introspective.

"Do you believe now?" he asked in an undertone.

Dr. Vinsen passed his hand confusedly across his brows.

"We had certain plans," continued Dr. Pye; "are they to be carried out to-night?"

"Not to-night; not to-night," replied Dr. Vinsen, turning towards the door.

The next moment Dr. Pye was alone.

CHAPTER XLII

A FAMILY COUNCIL

On the following morning Aunt and Uncle Rob and Florence and Reginald sat at the breakfast table, waiting for Dick, who had not been home all night. Although they had had no word from him since he left them on the previous evening, they knew that he would join them at the earliest possible moment. It had been an anxious night with them, and they had had but little sleep. There were dark rims round Aunt Rob's eyes, and signs of unrest were on Uncle Rob's countenance. Singularly enough, the invalid of the party, Reginald, had gathered strength; his voice was firmer, his step more confident, and there was an expression on his face which denoted that he had prepared himself to meet the worst that fortune had in store for him.

"Florence and I have been considering the straight and honest course to pursue," he said, "and we have decided. She wished me at first to be guided by your advice; but she is beginning to find out that she has married a wilful man."

She gave him a tender smile, and put her hand in his.

"It is not that I don't value your advice; but what would be the use of asking for it if I hadn't made up my mind to take it?"

"No use, my dear," said Aunt Rob. "What have you decided to do?"

"To offer a reward for the discovery of the murderer of my father."

Aunt Rob nodded her approval, and would have expressed it had she not observed the grave look on her husband's face. So she held her tongue, and waited for him to speak.

"It is not a plan we generally approve of," he remarked, after a pause, "and it seldom meets with success."

"Has it ever?" asked Reginald.

"Yes. A fifty to one chance."

"If it were a thousand to one chance it would be wrong to throw it away. Much of the evidence that has been given can be so construed as to cast suspicion upon me. How shall I protect myself except by showing the world that I court the most searching inquiry? Lady Wharton's story is true, and some villain, personating my father, succeeded in imposing upon and robbing her. The offer of a substantial reward will not only quicken the efforts of the police, but will set a hundred people on the hunt. God forbid that I should do anyone an injustice. I cannot conceive that Abel Death is the murderer, and yet in the eyes of the public it lies between him and me. It would be the height of folly to ignore that fact. Here in this paper" – he took up a newspaper, glanced at it, and flung it indignantly aside-"is a veiled allusion to Abel Death and me as accomplices. No names are mentioned, but the inference can hardly be missed. On my way home from the funeral on Tuesday, and yesterday from the Coroner's Court, I saw some of the newspaper bills with their cruel headlines accusing me! I saw the silent accusation in the eyes of the people as I passed. Is it in nature that I should sit idly down under such imputations? They are enough to drive a man mad, and I shall go mad if I do not do something quickly to repel them. The wretch who went down to Bournemouth must have purchased a railway ticket; the clerk who sold it him may have seen his face; passengers travelling the same way must have seen him: he must have been seen by other persons in Bournemouth; he may have taken a carriage there to drive to the Gables; if he went on foot he may have asked his way to the house; when he left Lady Wharton he could scarcely have walked about the town till the trains started in the morning; he must have slept somewhere; a waiter or a chambermaid may have noticed him; there may have been something in his speech or manner to attract attention, however slight. There are a thousand things from which a clue may be obtained and which may be brought to the recollection by the hope of earning money. The offer of a reward will stir people's memories, will cause them to come forward with scraps of information which otherwise would be thought of no importance. Uncle Rob, Aunt Rob-I dare not, and will not, call you father and mother till I am cleared of these vile suspicions-do you not see that I must do this for dear Florence's sake, that it is my duty to make her less ashamed of the name I gave her?"

The sobs in his throat prevented him from continuing. Trembling in every limb, shaking with passion and excitement, he turned appealingly to his wife.

She clasped him in her loving arms, crying, "I am not ashamed of it; I am proud of it, and of you, my dear, dear husband! If there is a stain upon our name you shall wipe it away; you shall make it bright and clean and pure, and men and women shall say, 'The son has atoned for his father's faults, and stands before the world an honourable gentleman who has met misfortune bravely, and silenced the slanderers who dared to breathe a word against him.' Oh, my dear, my dear! I never loved you as I love you now, I never honoured you as I honour you now. Mother, father, stand by us-comfort him, strengthen him!"

She glowed with heavenly pity, with indignant pride, with devoted love. The type of a true, brave, honest English girl, she stood embracing the man whose heart, whose life, were linked with hers, ready to defend him, to suffer for him, to fling back the words of scorn flung at him-if need were, to die for him. It is beneath the stress of a heavy stroke of misfortune that men and women such as she show their noblest qualities.

A great peace stole into Reginald's heart; the sobs in his throat died away.

"I will try to prove myself worthy of you," he said huskily. "I pray to God that I may live to prove it."

Aunt Rob's heart throbbed with exultation.

"Our daughter, father, that I nursed at my breast," she murmured to her husband. "God love and preserve her!"

"Amen!" he answered.

So in that humble home those sweet flowers bloomed in the midst of the darkness, and through the lowering clouds one bright star shone-the star of love and hope and mutual faith.

When the excitement had subsided, and they were all seated again, Uncle Rob said,

"Let it be as you have decided, Reginald, my lad. As an inspector of police I might argue with you; as a man and a father I agree with you. And in the nick of time, here comes Dick."

To Dick, with his cheerful face and voice, that bore no traces of his night's anxious vigil, all was explained. He shook hands with Reginald, and said,

"A good move. I'll go a step farther. Let there be two bills put out and posted all over England, one offering a reward for the discovery of the murderer, the other for giving such information of Abel Death as will lead to his being found. You can tell us, perhaps, Uncle Rob-would that be against the law?"

"I don't think the law can touch it," he replied. "It might not be approved of in some quarters, but the law don't apply, so far as I know anything of it."

"If the law," said Aunt Rob, with fine disdain, "can prevent a son from offering a reward for the discovery of his father's murderer the less we have of it the better. Why, instead of one man looking for the monster, there 'll be a hundred! Dick, you must see to the printing of the bills, and they should be got out at once."

"I will attend to everything; but before we go into details I've something to tell you. I should have been here earlier if I hadn't met little Gracie Death. What a brick that mite is! Just listen to what she discovered yesterday, Reginald-that there's a way of getting into your father's house without getting through the front or the back door. You may well look startled; it nearly took my breath away. Do you remember that pitiful hoarse voice of hers, uncle, on the night of the fog, when she said, 'You will find father, won't you, sir?'" Uncle Rob nodded. "Well, as nobody has been able to find him, she has made up her mind to find him herself, heaven knows how, but somehow. She thinks of nothing else, she dreams of nothing else, and she's got it into that clever little head of hers that he's to be found in Catchpole Square, the very place, one would imagine, that he'd be likely to avoid. If faith can move mountains, as they say it can, the thing is as good as done. There is such magnetism in her little body that when she speaks she almost makes you believe what she believes. Now, I'm not going to tell you how she got into the house while Uncle Rob is here. As inspector of police he would consider it his duty to make use of the information."

"I certainly should," said Uncle Rob. "I'd best make myself scarce."

"Don't go yet, uncle. I want you to hear something you ought to know. Gracie, talking to me this morning, tells me of a man she saw Dr. Vinsen speaking to last night. She hates that doctor-so do I; and it's because she hates him that she creeps behind them without their seeing her, and hears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your instructions, and I'll keep my promise.' That's all she does hear, because the doctor, turning his head over his shoulder, sends her scuttling away; but she's certain he doesn't suspect that he'd been followed and overheard. There isn't much in that, you'll say; but listen to what follows. Gracie had just finished telling me this when a man passes us. 'There,' she says, 'that's the man.' I catch sight of his face, and who do you think it was?"

"Out with it, Dick," said Uncle Rob.

"It was the juryman that's been putting all those questions at the inquest about our private affairs, and that's been doing his best to throw suspicion upon Reginald and me and all of us. Queer start, isn't it?"

CHAPTER XLIII

AUNT ROB PLAYS THE PART OF FAIRY GODMOTHER

"There's villainy at the bottom of it," cried Aunt Rob. "Dick, you're our guardian angel, and that poor little girl, that I'd like to hug, is another. I knew that wretch on the jury was against us from the first. There was a sly, wicked look in his eyes every time he turned towards us, and when he began to speak I felt as if some one was cutting a cork; he set all my teeth on edge. Ought such a monster to be allowed to sit on a jury?"

"Who's to prevent it?" said Uncle Rob, thoughtfully. "He's there, and has to be reckoned with, though I doubt whether we can do any good. Likes and dislikes, when there's nothing tangible to back them up, count for nothing; and feelings count for nothing. When people shiver and grate their teeth at the squeaking of a cork other people who don't mind it only laugh at them."

"There's nothing to laugh at here, father," said Aunt Rob, impatiently.

"I know that as well as you do, mother; I don't think any of us are in a laughing humour. I'm trying to reason the matter out, and to do that fairly you must take care not to let prejudice cloud your judgment. When little Gracie Death overhears Dr. Vinsen say, 'You act up to your instructions, and I'll keep my promise,' what proof have we that it has anything to do with the juryman's duties on the inquest?"

"No proof at all," said Dick, "but doesn't it look like it?"

"Such an inference may be drawn, but an inference won't help us. It's no good mincing matters. Dr. Vinsen is on the right side of the hedge, and we are on the wrong, and that makes all the difference; he has the advantage of us. Reginald has put it clearly, and we must be prepared. Every hour a fresh complication crops up, and there's no telling what the next will bring forth. You see a man with an open newspaper in his hand; peep over his shoulder to find out what he's reading. It's the Catchpole Square Mystery, and he's running his eyes eagerly down the columns to see if anybody's caught, if anybody's charged. It scares me to think of it."

"What do you mean, father?" asked Aunt Rob.

"Have you ever seen a bull-baiting without the bull?" said Uncle Rob, gravely. "The public's waiting for the bull, and they won't rest satisfied till he's in the ring. That's where the danger is. They don't care a straw whether it's the right bull or the wrong bull; they want something to bait."

Reginald compressed his lips; he understood the drift of Uncle Rob's remarks.

"Do you mean to say that they don't want to see fair play?" said Aunt Rob.

"I don't mean that. What I'm driving at is that Dick's prejudice against Dr. Vinsen, whatever it may be worth, won't help us."

"It will," said Dick, in a positive tone, "and I'm going to follow it up. Just answer me this. Do you consider that the inquest is being properly carried on? Do you consider it fair that private family affairs should be dragged before the public in the way they have been?"

"I don't consider it fair."

"Well, then, who is chiefly responsible for it? Who but the juryman that little Gracie catches conspiring with Dr. Vinsen?"

"Conspiring!"

"That's the word, conspiring, and I don't care who hears me. The jury on the inquest are sworn, like any other jury, and if it can be proved that, before the inquiry is opened, before any evidence is taken, there is on the part of one of them an arrangement with an outside party to return a certain verdict, that I should imagine is a conspiracy, and the law can be made to touch them." Uncle Rob shook his head doubtfully. "Well, anyway, there's a free press, and the making of such a conspiracy public would influence public opinion, and there would be no baiting of the wrong bull, even though he was in the ring. 'Hold hard a bit,' the public would cry, 'let us see fair play!'"

"Not badly put, Dick," said Uncle Rob, and Florence pressed the young man's hand.

"As things stand," he went on with enthusiasm, "it looks very much like a match between me and Dr. Vinsen-or, at all events, that's the way I view it, and if he were standing before me this present moment I'd fling my glove in his face, and be glad if it hurt him. How does that juryman fellow become so familiar with our private affairs? It's through him you're compelled to tell all about Florence's marriage. It's through him that it's been drummed into the public ear that Reginald is the only man who benefits by his father's death. Bull-baiting is nothing to the way some of us have been treated in court; and the prime mover of it all is Dr. Vinsen, who stands behind and pulls the strings."

"But what has Dr. Vinsen to gain by it?" asked Uncle Rob, bewildered, and yet half convinced by Dick's intense earnestness.

"That's to be found out, and I'm going to, as little Gracie says. If he has given me something to ponder over I've given him something that'll set his wits at work, unless I'm very much mistaken; and I haven't half done with him, nor a quarter. Don't ask me what my plans are; it would be the spoiling of them if I let you into the secret-and I mustn't forget that an inspector of police is in the room, who would do his duty though it should break the hearts of those who are dearest to him." These words were spoken with exceeding tenderness, and caused more than one heart in the room to throb. "If cunning is to be met with cunning, watching with watching, spying with spying, trickery with trickery, Dr. Vinsen will find that I am ready for him. Look here. What makes him start up all at once and go to Mrs. Death, and on the very first night he sees her give her a couple of sovereigns? Benevolence? Charity? That for his benevolence and charity!" Dick snapped his fingers contemptuously. "What makes him tell Mrs. Death a parcel of lies to poison her ears against me? What makes him tell me at your father's funeral, Reginald, that his heart is large, that it bleeds for all, and that it would be better for some of us if we were in our graves? What do I care for his bleeding heart, the infernal hypocrite? I'd make it bleed if I had my will of him, with his fringe of hair round his shining bald head! As for Dr. Pye, that mysterious gentleman keeps himself in the background till he sends a letter to the Coroner, saying he has evidence of great importance to give. We heard what that evidence was, and we've a lot to thank him for, haven't we? Did you notice him as he looked round the court till he stopped at Reginald? Accident? No! Premeditation!" They started. "I repeat-premeditation. I don't know for what reason, but I will know. I don't know what tie there is between Dr. Pye and Dr. Vinsen, but I will know. There's black treachery somewhere, and I'll ferret it out. Uncle, Aunt, Florence, Reginald, don't think I'm mad. I give you my word I am in my sober senses when I say that behind the mystery of this dreadful murder that has brought so much sorrow into this happy home there is another mystery which I'm going to solve if I die for it! I'll leave no stone unturned-for your dear sakes!"

His earnestness, his sincerity, the fervour of his voice, the loving glances he cast upon them, sank into their hearts-but it was upon Florence's face that his gaze lingered, and he trembled when, murmuring, "Dear Dick, you fill us with hope!" she gave him a sisterly kiss.

"Dick," said Aunt Rob, tearfully, "there was a time when I thought you had no stability, and when I said as much to Uncle Rob. I take it back, my lad, I take it back!"

"Don't be too hasty, aunt," he said, with a light attempt at gaiety. "Wait and see if anything comes of it. Reginald, I've something more to say. There's no mistake, is there, about your having got to your lodgings last Friday night week before twelve o'clock?"

"I am certain it must have been before that hour," replied Reginald. "As I told them at the inquest yesterday, I cannot entirely depend upon my memory. It frequently happens that when there's an important subject in one's mind-as there was that night in mine-a small incident which has no relation to it impresses itself upon the memory. That was the case with me. I can distinctly recall taking out my watch when I was in my bedroom, winding it up, looking at the time, and putting it back into my waistcoat pocket."

"Did any person see you enter the house? Think hard, Reginald."

"No person, in my remembrance."

"When you put the latchkey in the door the policeman might have been passing?"

"He might have been. I did not see him."

"No one saw you go upstairs?"

"Not that I know of. The house is always very quiet at that hour."

"I paid your landlady a visit last night," said Dick, "and she does not know what time you came home; neither does the servant, who doesn't seem blessed with a memory at all. It is most unfortunate that we cannot get a witness who could testify to the hour of your return to your lodgings. It would effectually dispose of Dr. Pye's evidence, so far as you are concerned, for he says he threw his flashlight at three in the morning. By Jove!" Dick exclaimed, looking at the clock on the mantelpiece, "it's ten o'clock, and the Coroner's Court opens at eleven. I sha'n't be there till late, unless there's a warrant out against me" – Dick laughed lightly, as though a warrant were the least thing they had to fear. "There's the printing to see to; I don't intend to leave the printing office till the reward bills are out. Now let's settle how they're to be drawn up; we've got just half-an-hour. Aunt Rob, I wish you'd do a kind action for once in your life."

"What is it, Dick?"

"Little Gracie is just round the corner, waiting for me; you won't see the tip of her nose unless you turn the street, for I told her to keep out of sight. She's my shadow, you know, and I haven't the heart to order her not to follow me about. What the child sees in me to haunt me as she does is more than I can understand."