The Spider and the Fly

"It is," said Mr. Thaxton, "and with something which I know weighs heavily on you, though the reality has passed long since."

Violet grew paler still.

"Mr. Thaxton," she said, "I am no weak-minded schoolgirl. I have suffered much, and still live, and can bear more than you think. Be plain with me, I entreat you. You have come to speak to me of that dreadful time long past but ever present in my mind."

"I have come to speak to you of Penruddie," said Mr. Thaxton.

Violet repressed a shudder, and closed her eyes for a moment.

The three watchers knew that she was putting up a prayer for strength.

"You have come to tell me that you have discovered something in connection with that terrible, cruel time. Have you found the – the – "

"We have found the man who was guilty of that crime," said Mr. Thaxton.

Violet shuddered, but sighed.

"It is dreadful," she said, faintly. "And I had hoped – forgive me – "

"Speak plainly on your part," said the lawyer.

"I had hoped that you might have found some trace of him who was wrongfully, cruelly accused of that crime. The noble soul whom I loved and helped to slay!"

And she clasped her hands.

"I have found more than that," said Mr. Thaxton.

Violet rose with wild eyes.

"Tell me!" she cried. "You have found him?"

"Hush!" said Mr. Thaxton. "You promised to be strong!"

Violet sank back and covered her face with her hands.

Mr. Thaxton bent over to her and took her hand.

"A great part of my task is done," he said. "I come to prepare you for a great and terrible trial, perhaps of sorrow, perhaps of joy. Tell me, are you strong enough to bear it? Are you strong enough to see the guilty punished, though that guilty were one whom you held dear? Are you strong enough to witness what in your eyes, unprepared, might seem a miracle? Are you strong enough for a great and fearful, a sudden and tremendous joy?"

There was a moment's pause.

"I am!" said Violet, and once more she looked up with her deep, beautiful eyes.

"Then," said Mr. Thaxton, pulling out his watch, "your trial is near at hand. To-night and within ten minutes you expect Mr. and Mrs. Dodson and Mr. Howard Murpoint?"

Violet inclined her head.

"You may also expect Mr. and Mrs. Lennox Fairfax."

"Bertie and Ethel?" said Violet.

Mr. Thaxton nodded.

"They have returned at my wish and suddenly," he said.

At that moment there was a loud knock at the door.

"There are some of the guests," he said, rising. "My friend and I will conceal ourselves behind that curtained recess. You trust all to me; and you promise to be strong?"

"I trust all to you, and I will be strong!" said Violet.

The two men quickly drew the curtain aside and concealed themselves in the recess.

Scarcely had they done so when Howard Murpoint and the Dodsons entered.

He came up to Violet and kissed her hand with his subtle courtliness and murmured some soft greeting, then, as he shook hands with Mrs. Mildmay, he said:

"I met our dear friends and managed that we should all come together."

Mrs. Mildmay was about to touch the bell, when at a gesture from Violet she paused and said:

"Shall we have a cup of tea by moonlight? See, it is rising rapidly."

"Delightful!" said the captain. "A charming idea. I can unfold our delicious plans in a congenial light. My dear Violet, I think I have sketched out a really agreeable tour. We shall run through Italy, see everything of any importance, and then come back by – "

At that moment, and as he rose to cross over to Violet, who sat pale and silent, nerving herself for she knew not what catastrophe, the curtain drew aside and Mr. Dockett stepped out.

Howard Murpoint turned, with his teacup in his hand, and frowned. The sudden entrance had startled him.

Mr. Dockett came across the room softly and, with a slight bow to the rest, touched the captain on the shoulder.

"Captain Howard Murpoint, I arrest you upon a charge of conspiracy."

The captain turned pale for a moment, then looked round with a rather displeased laugh.

"Is this a piece of premeditated fun?" he said. "If so, don't let me spoil it. What shall I say? Make a confession?"

"Ay, make a confession," said Mr. Dockett. "Here's a man who will help you."

And as he said the words Mr. Giles stepped from behind the curtain.

"Don't move, please," said Mr. Dockett to the company in general and to the captain in particular. "There are half a dozen men downstairs, and every outlet from the house is watched. Now, Mr. Giles, what do you know of the charge?"

"I hold a warrant here," said Mr. Giles, "for the arrest of Captain Howard Murpoint on several charges, involving conspiracy and forgery. It is no use, captain, the game has been a good one, but it is up. To-morrow the bubble will burst, and all your little dodges will be known. To-morrow the city would tear you to pieces if they had you – "

"Stop!" said the consummate villain. "Something has gone wrong in the city, no doubt. There is some mistake, my good fellow. You only do your duty, no doubt. I had better come with you, I suppose? Is that all?"

"No," said Mr. Dockett, "not all – not nearly, Captain Murpoint. There is a charge of forging a codicil to the will of the late John Mildmay, whereby you having fraudulently gained the guardianship of Miss Mildmay and possession of the estate and the moneys of the same."

The captain's face twitched and worked, and he sank into a seat.

"Let us hear this farce through," he said. "I know who is at the bottom of it. Forgery indeed! Because Lord Lackland is beggared and ruined and I have helped him toward it he must trump up this ridiculous charge. It is preposterous! My dear Violet – "

He was about to continue, but Violet rose and shrank toward the curtain, and Mr. Dockett stepped in between her and the scoundrel.

"You cannot believe this – this idiot!" he exclaimed.

"Silence!" said Mr. Dockett. "I put a question to you, Captain Murpoint. Will you give in, and make a clear confession of all, or shall I carry the matter through? For, mark me, this young lady shall know all, whether I tell her or you do!"

"Tell her what you like!" said the captain, pleasantly. "I have nothing to confess! Now, what is the next charge?"

"The murder of James Starling, whom you are accused of stabbing and throwing over the cliff at Penruddie!"

The captain rose, white and desperate.

"You cannot prove it!" he said. "Where is your witness?"

"Here," said Mr. Dockett, and he beckoned toward the recess.

Out stepped Job, very pale, but very determined.

"I am a witness, captain," he said. "I see you in the master's room, and I see you going up the cliffs. It's all over, captain, for Jamie Sanderson found the knife – your knife – and this gentleman has got it clear and straight."

"It's a false, vile, concocted plot!" hissed the captain. "James Starling died by the hand of Leicester Dodson! I saw him do it! If he didn't do the murder, where is he? Why doesn't he come back like a man and prove his innocence? Not he! He's snug away somewhere, and he doesn't come back!"

"He does, and he is here!" said a voice, and the curtain was swept away by a strong hand – Leicester's own – as he stepped into the room and caught Violet in his arms.

"Leicester!" she cried, with a voice, whose tones baffle all description. "Leicester! I have been asleep – dreaming. Oh, horrible dreams! Wake me, Leicester, my darling, wake me!"

There was a rush and confusion as she fainted. The door opened, and Ethel and Bertie ran in.

Then there was such a handshaking and kissing, and such terrible excitement, that for the moment the cause of all the terrible crimes and trouble was forgotten.

He saw the moment, and slipped something small and composed of glass from his pocket.

Scarcely had he done so when Mr. Dockett and Giles had seized his arms.

He struggled for a moment, then, as the group round Leicester and Violet, sobbing and crying and laughing and talking, turned to confront him, he suddenly stood still, and the old daring smile flitted across his livid face.

"You are mad, all of you!" he said. "You think because your idiot is back and the secret is out that you have done for me forever. But you are wrong. I know something of law. I am rich, and I will set you at defiance! You talk of robberies, of smuggling, of forgery, of murder! Bah! where is the motive for it all? Convict me of forgery upon the evidence of one man? You cannot! Convict me of murder upon such evidence as you hold? Impossible! I laugh at you! I am Captain Howard Murpoint, a respectable officer in her majesty's service! Why should I kill my servant, James Starling? Beware! Lay me by the heels, and I can and will give evidence sufficiently strong to hang that idiot!"

And he pointed to Leicester, from whom all sense but that of gratitude for the possession of his darling seemed to have passed.

"I can hang him, and I will, for I dare you to show why I should murder my servant, James Starling!"

At that moment the door opened and a short, little man in a costermonger's cap entered.

It was Stumpy.

Very quickly he pushed his way through the throng until he was close beside the captain, then he grasped his arm suddenly, and, ripping up the sleeve with a knife, pointed with a grin to a red mark.

The thing had been done so suddenly that the detectives even were taken by surprise.

But the captain understood it, and his face underwent a fearful change.

"Who are you?" he breathed, hoarsely.

Then, as he recognized his companion in crime, he shrieked:

"Hold him! hold him! He's an escaped convict! I know him! I can swear to him! I've worked in the same gang! Hah! hah! I've tricked you all at last!"

And, as Mr. Dockett suddenly released his arm, he dashed something in his mouth and fell upon the floor.

There was a slight noise of breaking glass, the blood trickled from some small cuts at his lips, then a cry arose from Mr. Dockett, who had knelt beside him and was staring at his arm.

"It's the general! Stumpy was right! Here's the mark upon his arm! No. 108! He's done us after all! Stand back! Give him air! Ah! he's dead – poisoned!"

And as he spoke he wiped the remains of the broken phial from the bleeding lips.

Winter has passed and summer has come again.

Winter has passed and taken with it forever and ever the last traces of that wicked spirit which plotted so much harm for Violet Mildmay and worked so much for those she loved.

All the winter through, each week, each month, justice, which will have nothing hidden or put away, went through the deeds of that dark life and made things clear.

The world soon learned how deeply it had been deceived, soon learned that Leicester Dodson was a martyr to circumstances, and that he almost deserved the reward which Violet, beautiful Violet, was going to bestow on him. Almost, we say, for no one could quite deserve that sweet boon, for that boon was herself. It soon found that the great man whom the world had delighted to honor had delighted to swindle it! That he was a murderer, rogue, a forger, and the plunderer of widows and orphans. For months curses followed him to that bourne whence none return, and Mr. Dockett has often been heard to regret that he did not stop the villain's hand when it carried the phial to his lips.

"I knew what he was going to do," Mr. Dockett would say, with a sigh; "and I thought I'd let him, because, you see, it was much quieter than having him hung! But I didn't know it was the general until Stumpy ran in and ripped up his sleeve. When I saw the 108 stamped on his arm it quite gave me a turn. For there was a reward of five hundred pounds, to say nothing of the honor of catching an 'escaped,' who was thought to be at the bottom of the sea. However, I'm very well satisfied, for Mr. Leicester's a perfect gentleman, and as for the young lady, all I say is may Heaven bless her and make her happy."

Mr. Dockett is often asked how much he pocketed by the affair, but he always declines to state. He says he does not wish to make the rest of his professional brethren dissatisfied and envious.

The winter brought trouble down to Penruddie, for the smuggling secret was out, and many a fisherman had to fly.

Job stayed and gave evidence on the inquest of the captain, but Leicester paid the fine which was inflicted, and Job is comfortable and happy.

One by one his old companions are creeping back, and, strange to say, the coastguards don't recognize them. Stumpy has turned queen's evidence and obtained a pardon, and is to be found the heart and soul of the "Blue Lion", which is still in the hands of Martha, who has abandoned smuggling and finds her temper is much improved.

Polly is Mrs. Willie Sanderson, and keeps her husband in very good order.

So Penruddie is very much as it was, and the Cedars and the Park are being done up. Some one is expected to occupy them, but at present the somebodies are elsewhere.

For it is now summer, and the evening sun is turning the rippled sea to gold.

A yacht comes dancing across the golden light into the sunset.

It is a very beautiful little vessel, and, light-hearted, from its deck come ever and anon ripples of laughter that rival the ripples of the sea.

Let us hover, like Puck, upon the sail, and look down.

There, on the deck, is a little party.

First Mr. and Mrs. Dodson and Mrs. Mildmay and Mr. Thaxton, seated in comfortable armchairs conveniently near a small table, upon which stand champagne and fruit.

Scattered near them on rugs and furs are some more friends.

It is from them that the laughter most heartily proceeds; near them are Violet and Leicester, she seated, and leaning against the mast, he lying full length and cutting the portrait of Mr. Thaxton out of orange peel.

Near him recline Bertie and Ethel – Bertie puffing a cigar with mild enjoyment, and Ethel teasing him with the end of a rope.

Swinging in a hammock up above their heads is Fitz, looking as happy as the day is long, and not at all the disappointed man. He loves Violet still, and she calls him Fitz; but it is a brotherly affection between them, and Fitz is satisfied. He will never marry, he says, but he insists upon it that if there should ever be any children round Violet's knee, that they should call him "Uncle."

Near them sits Jamie Sanderson – near, but far away, for he has a book in his hand, and he is in dreamland. He will never leave Leicester while they both live.

Mr. Thaxton, smoking his cigar, drops comfortably off to sleep, lulled by the heat and the soft laughter.

The other elderly parties are about to follow his example, when Fitz sings out:

"Pass that champagne up, will you, ladies and gentlemen? Because I'm up here, it doesn't follow that I'm above the weaknesses of other mortals. George! How happy I am! You all of you look that way inclined; and so you ought to be. Ladies and gentlemen, if there's any one of you unhappy on this happy vessel, you shouldn't be here; it isn't the place for you, and, by George! if you'll have the honesty to admit it, I'll pitch you overboard."

There is no answer, save a peal of laughter – and a piece of orange peel, thrown by Leicester, and alighting on Fitz's nose – and as that must mean that they are perfectly happy there and now we will leave them.

Long may they glide through life as they glide now, this summer's eve, doing good, loving much, and trusting to the beneficence of that Heaven whence all happiness and good things flow!

THE END