The Secret Passage

"I think so," said the doctor doubtfully, "I am not quite sure. His own medical attendant, knowing his constitution and its resisting power, will be able to speak more assuredly. How did this happen?"

Cuthbert, for obvious reasons, explained as little as he could. "Some old woman came to see my uncle and threw vitriol at Miss Saxon, the young lady who was with him. He intercepted the stuff and fell into the fire."

"What a demon! I hope she will be caught."

"She is dead," and Cuthbert related the accident in the street. The doctor had strong nerves, but he shuddered when he heard the dreadful story. Nemesis had been less leaden-footed than usual.

In due time Dr. Yeo, who usually attended Caranby, made his appearance and stated that his patient would not live many hours. "He was always weak," said Yeo, "and of late his weakness increased. The two severe shocks he has sustained would almost kill a stronger man, let alone an old man of so delicate an organization. He will die."

"I hope not," said Cuthbert, impulsively.

The physician looked at him benignly. "I differ from you," he declared, "death will come as a happy release to Lord Caranby. For years he has been suffering from an incurable complaint which gave him great pain. But that he had so much courage, he would have killed himself."

"He never complained."

"A brave man like that never does complain. Besides, he took great care of himself. When he came back to London he was fairly well. I think he must have done something rash to bring on a recurrence of his illness. Within a few days of his arrival he grew sick again. In some way he over-exerted himself."

"I don't think he ever did," said Mallow, doubtfully.

"But I am certain of it. Within a week of his arrival here he had a relapse. I taxed him with going out too much and with over-exertion, but he declined to answer me."

"Will he become conscious again?"

"I think so, in a few hours, but I cannot be sure. However, you need not be alarmed, Mr. Mallow. His affairs are all right. In view of his illness I advised him to make his will. He said that he had done so, and that everything was in apple-pie order."

"It is not that, doctor. I wish to ask him some questions. Will you remain here?"

"Till the end," replied Yeo, significantly; "but it will not take place for a few hours, so far as I can see."

"I wish to go out for an hour. Can I, with safety?"

"Certainly. Lord Caranby will live for some time yet."

Mallow nodded and left the bedroom, while Yeo returned to the bed upon which lay the unconscious form of the old man. Cuthbert took a walk to the end of the street where the wreckage of the motor car had now been removed, and asked the policeman what had become of the victims. He was informed that the chauffeur, in a dying condition, had been removed to the Charing Cross Hospital, and that the body of the old woman – so the constable spoke – had been taken to the police station near at hand. "She's quite dead and very much smashed up," was the man's report.

Mallow thanked him with half-a-crown and, having learned the whereabouts of the police station, he went there. He introduced himself to the inspector and, as the nephew of Lord Caranby, received every attention, particularly when he described how the vitriol had been thrown. Cuthbert thought it as well to say this, as the waiters at the Avon Hotel would certainly inform the police if he did not. He looked at the body of the miserable woman in its strange mask of age. "She went to see Lord Caranby in disguise," said the inspector, "you can see her face is made up. Does his lordship know who she is?"

"Yes. And Mr. Jennings, the detective, knows also."

"Perhaps you do yourself, Mr. Mallow?"

Cuthbert nodded. "She is Maraquito, the – "

"What! the gambling-house coiner we have been looking for?"

"The same. Jennings can tell you more about the matter than I can."

"I'll get Mr. Jennings to come here as soon as he is on his feet, and that will be to-morrow most probably. But why did Maraquito throw vitriol at Lord Caranby?"

"Jennings can tell you that," said Mallow, suppressing the fact that the vitriol had been meant for Juliet. "Perhaps it had something to do with the raid made on the unfinished house which, you know, belonged to my uncle."

"Bless me, so it did. I expect, enraged by the factory being discovered, Maraquito wished to revenge herself on your uncle. She may have thought that he gave information to Jennings about the place."

"She might have thought so," said Mallow. "I am returning to the Avon Hotel. If you want to see me you can send for me there. But Jennings knows everything."

"What about his lordship?"

"He will die," said Cuthbert abruptly, and departed, leaving the inspector full of regrets that Maraquito had not lived to figure in the police court. He looked at the matter purely from a professional standpoint, and would have liked the sensation such an affair would have caused.

When Mallow came back to the hotel he found that his uncle had recovered consciousness and was asking for him. Yeo would not allow his patient to talk much, so Cuthbert sat by the bedside holding the hand of the dying man. Caranby had been badly burnt about the temples, and the sight of one eye was completely gone. Occasionally Yeo gave him a reviving cordial which made him feel better. Towards evening Caranby expressed a wish to talk. The doctor would have prevented him, but the dying man disregarded these orders.

"I must talk," he whispered faintly. "Cuthbert, get a sheet of paper."

"But you have made your will," said Yeo, rebukingly.

"This is not a will. It is a confession. Cuthbert will write it out and you will witness my signature along with him, Yeo."

"A confession!" murmured Cuthbert, going out of the room to get pen, ink and paper. "What about?"

He soon knew, for when he was established by the side of the bed with his writing materials on a small table, Caranby laughed to himself quietly. "Do you know what I am about to say?" he gasped.

"No. If it is nothing important you had better not exhaust yourself."

"It is most important, as you will hear. I know who murdered the supposed Miss Loach."

Cuthbert nearly dropped the pen. "Who was it?" he asked, expecting to hear the name of Mrs. Octagon.

"I did!" said Caranby, quietly.

"You! – that's impossible."

"Unfortunately it is true. It was an accident, though. Yeo, give me more drink; I must tell everything."

Yeo was quite calm. He had known Caranby for many years, and was not at all disposed to shrink from him because he confessed to having committed a murder. He knew that the Earl was a kind-hearted man and had been shamefully treated by three women. In fact, he was secretly glad to hear that Emilia Saul had met her death at the hand of a man she had injured. But he kept these sentiments to himself, and after giving his patient a strong tonic to revive his energies, he sat by the bedside with his fingers on the pulse of the dying man. Caranby rallied considerably, and when he began his recital spoke in stronger tones.

Cuthbert dipped his pen in the ink, but did not dare even to think. He was wondering how the death of Emilia had come about, and also how his uncle had gone to the unfinished house on the same night as he had done. Remembering how Basil stated he had been chased by someone unknown, Cuthbert began to fancy he saw light. However, at this moment Caranby began to speak, and as every moment was precious, both men forbore to interrupt him unless desirous to have a clearer understanding on certain points.

"When I came back to England," said Caranby, "I never thought that Emilia was alive. Owing to the clever way in which the substitution was effected by Isabella, I always thought Selina lived at Rose Cottage. Several times I tried to see her, hoping she would marry me. But she always refused. I was puzzled at the time, but now I know the reason. I never thought of looking at the unfinished house. It was a piece of sentimental folly my shutting it up, but afterwards, as time slipped by, I never troubled about looking into the matter. As Cuthbert will tell you, Yeo, laziness is a vice with me."

"Go on with the story and save your strength," said Yeo softly.

"Yes." Caranby heaved a sigh. "I haven't much left. Well, Cuthbert, you told me about the ghosts supposed to be haunting the house. I asked you to go down and see. You came here one night and left at eight o'clock to go down to Rexton."

"I never expected you to follow. Why did you not come with me?"

"Because I was keeping something back from you. On the previous day I received a letter. There was no name to it, and the writing was disguised. It advised me to see Selina Loach, and said I would be surprised when she spoke to me."

"Because then you would recognize the woman you believed to be dead."

"Exactly," said Caranby faintly, "but at the time I knew nothing, and was much puzzled with the letter. On that night I intended to tell you, but I did not. Then I thought I would go down to Rose Cottage and prove the truth of the letter. I went almost immediately after you, Cuthbert."

"What, in your state of health?"

"Yes. I was stronger then."

"And have been less strong since," murmured Yeo. "I understand now why you refused to tell me how you had over-exerted yourself."

"I had my secret to keep," said Caranby coldly, "some more drink, please." Then, when he felt better, he continued "Yes! I was wonderfully well and strong on that night. I climbed the wall – "

"Impossible!" said Mallow, "I can't believe that."

"Nevertheless it is the truth. I expect the excitement made me unnaturally strong. I suffered greatly when it was over."

"You were a wreck," said the physician bluntly.

"When what was over?" asked Mallow, anxiously.

"The event of the night to which I am coming. It took me some time to get to Rexton, and a long time to walk to the unfinished house. I did not go down Crooked Lane, but round by the wall."

"Did you come by the railway station path?"

"I did not. I took a wide detour and arrived at the unfinished house on the side opposite to where Rose Cottage stood."

"Ah!" murmured the young man. "No wonder I missed you. But I thought you were calling on Miss Loach."

"I intended to, but first I thought I would assure myself about the ghosts. Certainly I had set you to perform that task, but, as I was on the spot, I determined to see for myself. I climbed the wall, not without difficulty, and found myself in the park – "

"About what time was this?"

"After ten. I can't say how long. But I really cannot be precise as to the time. I wandered aimlessly about the park, threading my way amongst the trees and shrubs and undergrowth. I was astonished to find paths, and it struck me that someone used the park."

"I believe Miss Loach did – that is, Emilia," said Cuthbert. "Jennings learned that in some way. She always was on the watch for anyone coming into the park and learning the secret of the factory."

"I did not know that at the time," said Caranby, his voice growing weaker. "Well, I walked about. Sometimes it was moonlight and at other times the moon would be obscured by clouds. I struggled to get near the house and succeeded. Then I saw a man standing in the shadow. At once I went up to him – he fled. I don't know who it was?"

"I can tell you," said Mallow, quietly, "young Saxon."

"Then why did he fly?"

"He was there with no very good purpose and his conscience smote the miserable creature," said Cuthbert, "go on – or will you wait?"

"No! no! no!" said Caranby, vehemently; "if I stop now you will never know the truth. I don't want anyone else to be accused of the crime. I know Maraquito hinted that Isabella Octagon was guilty, but she is not. I don't want even Isabella to suffer, though she has been a fatal woman to me and wrecked my life's happiness."

His voice was growing so weak that Yeo gave him more cordial. After a pause Caranby resumed with a last effort, and very swiftly, as though he thought his strength would fail him before he reached the end of his dismal story.

"I followed the man, though I did not know who he was, and wondered why he should be trespassing. He fled rapidly and I soon lost him. But when the moonlight was bright I saw that he had dropped a knife from his pocket. In stooping to pick it up I lost sight of the man."

"Basil crossed the park and ran away. But he came back for the knife afterwards," explained Mallow. "Juliet saw him. He had on my coat. I wonder you didn't think Basil was me, as Juliet did."

"I am not acquainted with your clothes," said Caranby, dryly, "as I have been absent from England for so long. But no wonder Saxon did not find the knife. I picked it up. It was a bowie – "

"Belonging to me, which Basil had stolen."

"I didn't know that either. Well, I went again towards the wall surrounding the park. I thought I might meet you."

"I wonder you didn't. I was about at that time."

"The park was so thickly filled with trees and shrubs that we missed one another I suppose. Don't interrupt – I am going. Write quickly, Cuthbert." Then with a gasp Caranby resumed: "I halted to get breath near the large oak which the fire spared. I heard a rustling, and a woman came out of the shadow of the tree. I wondered who she was and where she had come from. The moon then came out brightly, and I recognized her face with a sensation almost of terror. It was Emilia."

"How did you recognize her after all these years?"

"By her Jewish look, and especially by the eyebrows. Moreover, she revealed herself to me when dying."

"What happened?" asked Yeo, sharply.

"I was standing with the knife in my hand. Emilia, seeing that I was an intruder, came swiftly towards me. She had a revolver in her hand but did not fire. She cried out something and rushed at me. In doing this she came straight against the knife. I was holding it instinctively in an attitude of defence, with the point outward. She rushed at me to bear me down by the weight and force of her charge, and the next moment she dropped to the ground dying."

"She was not dead then?"

"No! not for the moment. I knelt beside her and whispered 'Emilia!' She opened her eyes and smiled. Then she replied, 'Emilia – yes!' and died. I did not know what to do. Then it struck me that I might be arrested for the crime, though it really was no crime. Had she not rushed at me, had I not been holding the knife, she would not have met with her death. I wonder she did not fire, seeing she had a pistol."

"Perhaps she recognized you," said Yeo, glancing at Cuthbert, who was writing rapidly.

"No. Had she done so, she would never have attempted to hurt me. She thought I was some spy searching for the factory, and without giving herself time to think dashed forward, believing I would give way and fly. It was all over in a second. I made up my mind to go at once. I did not even wait to pick up the knife, but climbed the wall and came home here. What happened then I don't know."

"I can tell you," said Mallow. "Maraquito and Hale came to look for Miss Loach and took her body into the villa sitting-room. They placed the knife at her feet and the cards in her lap, thinking it would be thought she had been stabbed in the room, and – "

"Sign, sign!" said Caranby, unexpectedly, and Mallow hastily brought him the written document and the ink. He signed feebly, and the two men signed as witnesses. Yeo then turned to his patient, but he drew back. Death was stamped on the face.

Cuthbert called in the servant. "Lord Caranby is dead," he said quietly.

"Yes, my lord," replied the servant, and Mallow started on hearing the title. But he was now Lord Caranby and his uncle was dead.

CHAPTER XXVI

CUTHBERT'S ENEMY

Before leaving the death-chamber, Mallow – now Lord Caranby – sealed the confession in the presence of Yeo, and went with him into the sitting-room. "What will you do with that?" asked the doctor, indicating the envelope with a nod.

"I shall place it in the hand of my lawyers to be put with family papers," replied Cuthbert. "I am sure you agree with me, Yeo, that it is unnecessary to make the contents public. My uncle is dead."

"Even were he still alive, I should advise you to say nothing," replied Yeo, grimly; "the woman deserved her fate, even though it was an accident. She destroyed Caranby's life. He would have married Selina Loach and have been a happy man but for her."

"There I think you wrong her. It is Isabella Octagon who is to blame. She has indeed been a fatal woman to my poor uncle. But for her, he would not have been prevented from marrying Selina and thus have fallen into the toils of Emilia. Emilia would not have murdered Selina, and the result would not have come out after all these years in the death of my uncle at the hands of Bathsheba Saul."

"Who is she?"

"Maraquito. But you don't know the whole story, nor do I think there is any need to repeat the sordid tragedy. I will put this paper away and say nothing about it to anyone save to Jennings."

"The detective!" said Yeo, surprised and startled. "Do you think that is wise? He may make the matter public."

"No, he won't. He has traced the coiners to their lair, and that is enough glory for him. When he knows the truth he will stop searching further into the case. If I hold my tongue, he may go on, and make awkward discoveries."

"Yes, I see it is best you should tell him. But Miss Saxon?"

"She shall never know. Let her think Maraquito killed Emilia. Only you, I and Jennings will know the truth."

"You can depend upon my silence," said Yeo, shaking Cuthbert by the hand; "well, and what will you do now?"

"With your permission, I shall ask you to stop here and arrange about necessary matters in connection with the laying-out of the body. I wish to interview Mrs. Octagon this evening. To-morrow I shall see about Caranby's remains being taken down to our family seat in Essex."

"There will be an inquest first."

"I don't mind. Maraquito is dead and nothing detrimental to the honor of the Mallows can transpire. You need say nothing at the inquest as to the bottle being thrown at Juliet."

"I'll do my best. But she will be questioned."

"I intend to see her this evening myself."

"What about Mrs. Octagon?"

"Oh," said the new Lord Caranby with a grim smile, "I intend to settle Mrs. Octagon once and for all."

"Surely you don't intend to tell her of the murder."

"Certainly not. She would make the matter public at once. But her knowledge of the real name of Emilia, and her hushing up of the murder of her sister, will be quite enough to bring her to her knees. I don't intend that Juliet shall have anything more to do with her mother. But I'll say very little."

After this Cuthbert departed and took a hansom to the "Shrine of the Muses." He arrived there at ten o'clock, and was informed by the butler that Miss Saxon was in bed with a headache, and that Mrs. Octagon had given orders that Mr. Mallow was not to be admitted. Basil was out, and Mr. Octagon likewise. Cuthbert listened quietly, and then gave the man, whom he knew well, half a sovereign. "Tell Mrs. Octagon that Lord Caranby wishes to see her."

"Yes, sir, but I don't – "

"I am Lord Caranby. My uncle died this evening."

The butler opened his eyes. "Yes, m'lord," he said promptly, and admitted Cuthbert into the hall. "I suppose I needn't say it is really you, m'lord," he remarked, when the visitor was seated in the drawing-room, "I am afraid the mistress will be angry."

"Don't trouble about that, Somes. Tell her Lord Caranby is here," and the butler, bursting to tell the news in the servants' hall, went away in a great hurry.

Cuthbert remained seated near the table on which stood an electric lamp. He had the confession in his pocket, and smiled to think how glad Mrs. Octagon would be to read it. However, he had quite enough evidence to force her into decent behavior. He did not intend to leave that room till he had Mrs. Octagon's free consent to the marriage and a promise that she would go abroad for an indefinite period with her hopeful son, Basil. In this way Cuthbert hoped to get rid of these undesirable relatives and to start his married life in peace. "Nothing less than exile will settle matters," he muttered.

Mrs. Octagon, in a gorgeous tea-gown, swept into the room with a frown on her strongly-marked face. She looked rather like Maraquito, and apparently was in a bad temper. Mallow could see that she was surprised when she entered, as, thinking Lord Caranby was incapacitated by the accident described by Juliet, she did not know how he came to call at so late an hour. Moreover, Lord Caranby had never visited her before. However, she apparently was bent on receiving him in a tragic manner, and swept forward with the mien of a Siddons. When she came into the room she caught sight of Cuthbert's face in the blaze of the lamp and stopped short. "How – " she said in her deepest tone, and then became prosaic and very angry. "What is the meaning of this, Mr. Mallow? I hoped to see – "

"My uncle. I know you did. But he is dead."

Mrs. Octagon caught at a chair to stop herself from falling, and wiped away a tear. "Dead!" she muttered, and dropped on to the sofa.

"He died two hours ago. I am now Lord Caranby."

"You won't grace the position," said Mrs. Octagon viciously, and then her face became gloomy. "Dead! – Walter Mallow. Ah! I loved him so."

"You had a strange way of showing it then," said Cuthbert, calmly, and he also took a seat.

Mrs. Octagon immediately rose. "I forbid you to sit down in my house, Lord Caranby. We are strangers."

"Oh, no, we aren't, Mrs. Octagon. I came here to arrange matters."

"What matters?" she asked disdainfully, and apparently certain he had nothing against her.

"Matters connected with my marriage with Juliet."

"Miss Saxon, if you please. She shall never marry you."

"Oh, yes, she will. What is your objection to the marriage?"

"I refuse to tell you," said Mrs. Octagon violently, and then somewhat inconsistently went on:

"If you must know, I hated your uncle."

"You said you loved him just now."

"And so I did," cried the woman, spreading out her arms, "I loved him intensely. I would have placed the hair of my head under his feet. But he was never worthy of me. He loved Selina, a poor, weak, silly fool. But I stopped that marriage," she ended triumphantly, "as I will stop yours."

"I don't think you will stop mine," replied Cuthbert tranquilly, "I am not to be coerced, Mrs. Octagon."

"I don't seek to coerce you," she retorted, "but my daughter will obey me, and she will refuse your hand. I don't care if you are fifty times Lord Caranby. Juliet should not marry you if you had all the money in the world. I hated Walter Mallow, your uncle. He treated me shamefully, and I swore that never would any child of mine be connected with him. Selina wished it, and forced me to agree while she was alive. But she is dead and Lord Caranby is dead, and you can do nothing. I defy you – I defy you!"

"We may as well conduct this interview reasonably."

"I shall not let you remain here any longer. Go."

She pointed to the door with a dramatic gesture. Cuthbert took up his hat.

"I shall go if you insist," he said, moving towards the door, "and I shall return with a policeman."

Mrs. Octagon gave a gasp and went gray. "What do you mean?"

"You know well what I mean. Am I to go?"

"You have nothing against me," she said violently, "stop, if you will, and tell me the reason of that speech."

"I think you understand what I mean perfectly well," said Mallow again, and returning to his seat. "I know that your sister died years ago," Mrs. Octagon gasped, "and that Emilia feigned to be Selina Loach. And perhaps, Mrs. Octagon, you will remember how your sister died."

"I didn't touch her," gasped Mrs. Octagon, trembling.

"No, but Emilia Saul did, and you condoned the crime."

"I deny everything! Go and get a policeman if you like."

Cuthbert walked to the door and there turned. "The statement of Emilia will make pleasant reading in court," he said.

Mrs. Octagon bounded after him and pulled him back by the coat-tails into the centre of the room. Then she locked the door and sat down. "We won't be disturbed," she said, wiping her face upon which the perspiration stood, "what do you know?"