Chapter 18

A SURPRISING DEFENCE

Elspeth lost no time in relating to Kind all that she had heard from Maud, and also confessed that she had promised the girl half her father's fortune if she saved Angus. Sweetlips was rather annoyed that such a promise had been extorted,--which it really had been,--as Miss Tedder certainly did not deserve one single penny.

"However," said the Cheap-jack, "YOU made the promise, and not Mr. Herries, therefore if he refuses, Miss Tedder can say nothing."

"Angus will do what I want," replied the girl, quickly.

"I know that, but you won't want him to reward iniquity, and--"

"Oh, Maud is not so bad as that."

"She's about as bad as they make 'em," grumbled the ex-detective grimly. "To get that money she is quite willing to see her cousin hanged, and is only hedging at the last moment, as she fears lest your father should save him."

"Do you think my father really can?"

"Yes. I know what he is going to say, and it will settle the matter. Therefore Miss Tedder, not having saved Mr. Herries, can expect nothing. Moreover, the fortune will not be your husband's until he discovers the criminal. Oh, there are many reasons why your forced promise to Miss Tedder need not be kept."

"But if she is right in saying that Se�ora Guzman is the guilty person, she will have done everything towards getting the fortune for Angus."

"So that she may secure half of it, if he is not hanged. And if he escapes, it will be no thanks to her."

"Do you think she is telling the truth?"

"I really can't say," murmured Kind, nursing his chin. "Of course she is jealous of Se�ora Guzman, and would do anything to get her out of the way. It seems to me that Captain Bruce Kyles is trifling with both these women. Tell me again exactly what Miss Tedder said."

Elspeth thought for a moment.

"She said that her father wrote the letter, which Mr. Ritson mentioned to you, to Se�ora Guzman, asking her to come to the 'Marsh Inn.' She came, and Sir Simon proposed to pay her enough money to fit out some expedition, on condition that she,--the Se�ora that is,--took Captain Bruce Kyles away from England,--removed him from Maud's path in fact."

"Humph. I remember Se�ora Guzman's reference to an expedition in search of some treasure. It might be, that her real reason in coming to England was to get funds. But if this Mexican lady loves Kyles, and Sir Simon was willing to pay her for loving him, why did she murder him?"

"To get the money, Maud says."

"But she could have got the money in any case," argued Kind, who was much perplexed by the present aspect of the affair. "Why commit a useless crime? I don't believe she did it."

"But you remember," Elspeth reminded him, "you remember that you found the stump of a Tangerian cigarette on the floor of----"

"Yes, yes,--and Se�ora Guzman smokes that brand. But other people may smoke the same sort of cigarettes,--for instance Captain Kyles," and Sweetlips looked keenly at Elspeth.

"Do you think that he----?"

"No. Mrs. Mountford, whom I have seen, told me that Captain Kyles was with Maud Tedder on the night of the murder. He could not be in two places at once, could he? But then that kidnapping--the crew of the 'Tarabacca' certainly kidnapped Armour under the impression that he was some spy,--that looks as though their mistress was in the hotel at the time, and they were removing danger from her path. And again, Se�ora Guzman could easily swarm up those light trellis spars under the window of the bedroom."

"In petticoats?"

"Pooh. A daring woman like that is quite capable of assuming a sailor's dress to carry out her object."

"Then you think she was there--that she is guilty?"

"I think, on the authority of the cigarette stump, that she was in the hotel, but I don't say that she is guilty. She did not kill Sir Simon, for I can see no motive for her committing the crime."

"Nevertheless," urged Elspeth, "as the cigarette stump was found in my husband's bedroom she must have been there."

"Well," drawled the Cheap-jack, with his eyes on the ground, "as I said, other people may have smoked such a brand;--one of the officers on board, for instance. Kyles is innocent, and I am not prepared to say that Se�ora Guzman is guilty. But she certainly might have implicated your husband in the crime by placing the razor on his bed and hiding the pocket-book under it. The best thing to do will be to question her, and inform her of Miss Tedder's accusation. I thought she was coming to see you?"

"So she was,--yesterday, and I expected to see her about the time Maud called. However, she never came."

"Humph. She will be at the trial, no doubt. You will see her to-day. Then I'll question her. Oh, by the way," Kind came back after taking a few steps towards the door, "I have found out from Trent, who is a fool and can't keep his own counsel, that Sir Simon drew two thousand pounds from his bank the day previous to his death--that is, two hundred in gold and the rest in notes. Trent learned this from Ritson, who should have told me by the way, and he heard it from the bank manager. So you see that the money which the landlady and her son saw Sir Simon handling and which filled the blue pocket-book amounted to that sum. Now, if we can trace the notes we'll lay hands on the criminal."

"Have any of the notes been presented?"

"Not yet. However, the manager has the numbers. Trent makes this statement at the hearing to-day before the magistrate. I must get off there. And you?"

"I'm coming with my father in half-an-hour."

"You'll come back with your husband to this place shortly," said Kind, in an encouraging tone.

"Oh, Sweetlips, do you really think so.

"I am absolutely certain of it," and he departed, leaving Mrs. Herries much up-lifted by the good news. She was certain that the Cheap-jack spoke the truth, for there was that in his manner which inspired confidence.

Elspeth dressed herself very simply to accompany her father to the hearing before the magistrate, and indeed, even had she been minded to dress more expensively, she could not have done so. Her frock and hat, her boots and gloves were all presents from Rachel Kind, in return for the nursing, and were of the plainest and cheapest description. Dr. Browne, in his impulsive generosity, had wished to give his friend's wife a dress, but this Elspeth refused, as she preferred to be indebted to no one. And Browne honoured her for the refusal. He was beginning to have a better opinion of women since he had known Elspeth Herries.

But if the daughter was plainly dressed, the father was resplendent, as the old scamp had no scruples in taking money from whomsoever was fool enough to give it to him. He was arrayed in purple and fine linen, and looked highly prosperous. Gowrie was aware that he was the most important figure at the trial, after the prisoner, and resolved to take every advantage of the publicity which was, as he said himself, thrust upon him. For years, as he also said, he had been hiding his light under a bushel, but now there was a chance of his shining brilliantly, and he arranged to stick his candle in the most conspicuous position. The shrewd old man saw every opportunity of making money, and although he hoped that his son-in-law, when freed and in possession of the property, would remunerate him for his services, still he did not neglect the chance of making a few shillings on his own account. And finally, Gowrie dearly loved publicity and praise. His progress along the streets with Elspeth was like that of a king leading a princess to the altar. His daughter wanted a cab, but this Gowrie refused.

"Haud up yer held, ma bairn," said he in his grand mellow voice, "an' dinna leuk sae white. This is a gran' day in the annals o' ma hoose, an' I gang forth, like David, tae succour the sick, and tae----" here Mr. Gowrie, who had been taking various drinks, became somewhat incoherent, and Elspeth was glad when he held his tongue, since everyone in the street knew who he was, and who she was from the old man's loud talking. He was really a dreadful person to have for a father. All the same he held the fate of her husband in his hands.

There was a crowd outside the building in which the trial was to take place, but a very few people were admitted into the court itself. This was done by order of the presiding magistrate, who knew that the sympathy of the public was with the prisoner, and who did not wish for any manifestations during the proceedings. Trent had assured him that Herries would undoubtedly be convicted on the evidence, and the magistrate, believing this, guessed that when the young man was committed to take his trial at the next Essex sessions, there would be a tumult. Therefore, when Elspeth and her father entered the court, they found that few were present. But outside could be heard the murmur of the mob, who were eagerly waiting to see what would happen.

The proceedings were very much the same as they had been at the "Marsh Inn" inquest. Trent made similar statements to those he had made before, but supplemented them by adding that Sir Simon had in his possession on the night he was murdered the sum of two thousand pounds in gold and notes. He stated that the numbers of the notes were in his possession, but that as yet none of them had been presented. He detailed all that had taken place at the inn on the night the crime had been committed,--the arrival of Sir Simon to meet his unknown visitor, the subsequent arrival of Herries, who said,--and perhaps wrongly, as Trent suggested,--that he did not know that his uncle was in the house. Then came the relation of Narby's discovery of the dead body, and the evidence found in Herries' room. In fact Inspector Trent made out a very good case against the prisoner, and it really looked as though nothing could prevent the accused man being committed for trial at the Chelmsford sessions.

The same witnesses as had appeared at the inquest were called: Mrs. Narby, her husband, her son, and Elspeth. No new facts were elicited, and the witnesses, with the exception of Elspeth, stated that they were certain the prisoner was guilty. Browne was examined and gave evidence as to his examination of the dead body and mentioned the probable hour of death. It was all rather dull, as everything had appeared before in the papers. Herries, seated in the dock, gazed straight before him with a calm face, and every now and then stole a glance at Elspeth to gain confidence. She was seated with clasped hands in agony, as the evidence was given. In the face of it all, how could she hope that her husband would escape.

Trent, recalled by the magistrate, explained that he had not been able to find the man who had passed through the tap-room arrayed in Sir Simon's fur coat, but mentioned that the coat itself had been discovered. The magistrate, who seemed to be an open-minded man, thought that this was a favourable sign for the prisoner, as the missing man might possible be, and very probably was, the assassin. But the lawyer who appeared for the prosecution pointed out that the razor and the empty pocket-book had been found in Herries' room. He dared the defence to explain how these came to be in the room of the prisoner.

It was at this point that Michael Gowrie was called, and then all present listened attentively, as this was the most important witness of the lot, and assuredly,--according to common report,--would be able to save the prisoner. The young lawyer who was acting for Herries asked Gowrie a few questions relative to his position, and the reason he had been at the "Marsh Inn" on the night in question. Then he asked him to tell his story. This Gowrie did in his best English and very earnestly. He knew that too much was at stake to commit himself to the Scotch dialect, which would not be half understood by those present.

Gowrie's statement, made with considerable impudence, was to the effect that Herries, on retiring to bed, was so excited by his misfortunes that it was probable he would not sleep. Sorry for the young man, Gowrie bethought himself of a small bottle of laudanum which he possessed. He considered it his duty to give Herries a dose, so that he might sleep.

"That was a dangerous thing to do," said the magistrate, rebukingly.

"It was, sir,--it was," replied the witness, "but Herries might have gone off his head had he not obtained the needful rest. I deemed it my duty as his old tutor and sincere well-wisher to drop a small quantity of the soothing drug into the whisky which I took up to him. Therefore, sir, I would point out, that as the prisoner was under the influence of the drug, he certainly could not have risen in the night to kill the deceased."

"Is there any evidence other than yours, to show that this drug was given?" asked the magistrate, looking grave.

Gowrie mentioned Pope Narby, the son of the landlady, and the woman herself. Both of these witnesses were recalled, and Pope stated that he certainly saw Gowrie drop the laudanum into the whisky,--to make the prisoner sleep as he had stated. Mrs. Narby gave evidence as to the administration of the drugged liquor, and how readily the prisoner had fallen into a deep slumber. Browne was recalled, and stated that while under the influence of such a dose of laudanum, the prisoner certainly could not have committed the crime, and then Gowrie reiterated his statement with added proofs that the drug was so administered.

Elspeth listened with joy, believing every word of her father's story. Herries believed it also, but knew perfectly well that the drug had been administered by Gowrie, not to make him sleep, since he was already weary, but to enable the old scamp to rob him. He was on the point of stating this, but thought that if he did so, Gowrie would probably deny the charge, and such an accusation would complicate matters. He therefore held his peace, and waited to see what would come of this important piece of evidence.

The magistrate consulted with another official, and Trent was recalled. The counsel for the prosecution questioned him and Gowrie and the Narbys minutely, but after all, in the end, there was no doubt in the minds of anyone that the laudanum had been so administered, and that Herries, under the soporific influence, could not have left his bed to commit the crime. After some delay, the magistrate therefore did what he was forced to do--he acquitted Herries, who left the court a free man, much to the joy of Elspeth. When the late prisoner appeared outside the court, the news of his acquittal and the reason of it had already preceded him, and he was welcomed by the large crowd with great joy. With his wife Herries hurried to a cab, intending to drive to Browne's house, and many a hand was stretched out to greet him. Undoubtedly everyone was pleased that the young man had been proved guiltless, and Elspeth, with the tears streaming down her face, could do nothing but gaze into the eyes of her husband, who was thus at large again.

Followed by shouting crowds, the cab drove to Dr. Browne's abode, but Gowrie remained behind as the hero of the hour, and submitted, not unwillingly, to the questioning of many reporters, who were anxious to hear more. He related what he had said in the court, and protested again and again that his only reason for giving the laudanum was to make his son-in-law sleep. As there was no reason, on the face of it, why he should not be believed, everyone thought that the old man spoke the truth, and for once Gowrie enjoyed the sensation of being the lion of the hour.

But Herries, much as he was indebted to his father-in-law, was not quite satisfied. When Gowrie returned to Browne's house, the young man drew him aside and questioned him closely.

"You robbed me of money," said Herries abruptly.

"Only a few shullings, laddie," chuckled Gowrie, "ye wudna hae me tak awa ma ain character."

"And you gave me the drug so that you might rob me in safety?"

"Aye," Gowrie rubbed his hands, "joost sae. An' a lucky nicht it wis for ye that I did pit the drug intae yon gless."

"You are a scoundrel, Gowrie."

"Eh! This tae yer paw-in-law, an' tae the mon wha saved yer life!"

"You wouldn't have saved my life if I had not married Elspeth," was Herries' dry retort.

"Weel, maybe I wudnae hae pit maesel tae sic trouble. Hoots, mon, a few shullin' against yer ain neck. It's gey cheap."

The old fellow was so shameless that Herries could say nothing. He stopped rebuking a man who could not feel the force of a rebuke, and went on another tack.

"When you came up to rob me, did you see or hear anything?"

"Aye, but I winna tell ye what I saw."

"You want to make more money out of it, I expect. Well, if you don't tell me, I'll inform the police, and you----"

"Nae, nae, laddie. Dinna dae that. I'll tell ye. I saw a wumon in the paussage. Aye, I dinna ken wha she wis, but I saw a petticoat."

"You SAW her?"

"Dinna pin me tae a word, my manny. It wis dark, ye ken, when I wis paying ye a veesit, an'----"

"About what time was this. After twelve, or before it?"

"It wis nearer one o'clock in the morn," said Gowrie, after some hesitation. "I wanted tae gie the drug time tae dae its marciful work. I wis sleepin' in the tap-room, ye ken, aye, and a weary bed I hed, laddie. When the clock--deil tak it for keeping me awake--struck the haulf-hour, I joost slipped off mae shoon, and crept up tae see ye sleepin' like a bairn."

"Had you a light?"

"Nae, nae, I wis nane sae dafty. A' the hoose, es I thocht, wis in slumber, and I didnae care tae wauken the puir weary folk. I kenned the lie o' the hoose weel enow, and joost crept up the stairs tae yer room. The door wisnae closed. I saw tae that when I ganged up wi' yon limmer, the Narby wumon. I came in lamb-like, nae wishful to disturb ye, and then I struck a match. Ye were sleeping like a bairn," added Gowrie pathetically, "an' I thanked my gude thocht for makin' ye sleep. Aye, I wis a faither tae ye on that nicht, laddie."

"Well? Well?" questioned Herries impatiently.

"Weel, weel," reiterated Gowrie testily, "I turned oot the pockets of yer troosers, and fund less nor I expected. But I wis thankful for sma' marcies, and departed wi' the few shullin's, the which," protested Mr. Gowrie, "was scarce the price o' the beneficent drug I gie ye tae mak ye sleep."

"To enable you to rob me you mean? Well, you saw----?"

"Naethin'. But I heard the swish o' a wumon's dress departing doon the stairs. There, I'll tell ye nae mair. I dinna ken wha the female was. Maybe the landlady?"

"Or Se�ora Guzman," replied Herries, much perplexed.