Chapter 26

THE BEGINNING OF THE END.

Ritson and Herries appeared to be the only members of the company who were surprised by Mrs. Narby's announcement. Gowrie, in a state of high glee, leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and his pipe in his mouth.

"Aye, mistress," said he portentously, "ye're fighting for yer young like the milky mither o' the herd, wha horns the rash intruder wha wud convart her caulf into veal. The muckle great deil tak ye for a leear."

"Gowrie," cried Herries, who was on his feet, "you knew all along!"

"Nae, nae, ye'll nae mack me compromise maesel in yon way. I hed ma suspeecions, though no o' her."

"Say plainly," Herries rapped the table, "is Mrs. Narby guilty or----?"

"I'm nae varra sure."

"Captain Kyles?" he appealed to the skipper, who stood by Mrs. Narby, with folded arms and a grim smile.

"I accuse the son."

"It's a bloomin' lie," panted the landlady, who looked a gruesome object, with her grey hair disarranged and her bonnet askew. "It wos me who cut th' ole man's 'orrid throat. Pope wouldn't 'urt a fly. I did h'it fur the tin, so es t' 'elp Pope t' be a great man."

"You don't seem to be surprised, Se�ora Guzman," said Herries, looking at the composed face of the Mexican lady.

"Captain Kyles told me long ago that Pope Narby was guilty."

"Me! Me! Me!" declared Mrs. Narby with vehemence, and wreathed her old arms round the shaking, drooping figure of her miserable son.

"Aye, aye," commented the sage, pointing with the stem of his pipe, "mark hoo th' mither-luve rins thro' a' th' wand. Yon's Alfred Tennyson, I'm theenkin'."

Herries, who was the person principally interested, seeing that on the truth of this statement depended the possession of fifty thousand a year, turned to the mother and son.

"Which one of you did it?" he demanded. "I must know for certain."

Pope made no reply, for his tongue clove to the roof of his palate, and Mrs. Narby, wiping his damp brow with her handkerchief, replied for him.

"I tell you I killed yer bloomin' uncle."

"And I say that Pope Narby did," declared the skipper decisively.

"And I," cried Maud, rising suddenly and stretching out her arm in a threatening manner, "I say that Bruce Kyles is the assassin."

Se�ora Guzman leaned across the table, and pushed Maud back on to the divan.

"If you dare to say that, I'll have you thrown overboard. Bruce," she addressed the Captain imperiously, "tell them what happened on that night. Mr. Herries knows that we came to England to get money for the expedition; he knows that you made love to Maud by my order, so that Sir Simon should help us; and he has been told that Sir Simon wrote a letter saying that this woman," she pointed to the indignant Maud, "was disinherited, and that he would meet you at the inn to pay you to give her up. Give her up," laughed the lady insultingly, "a woman for whom he did not care two straws while I lived to be his wife."

"It's a lie--a lie. Bruce, Bruce, you love me, me only," and Maud looked at her quondam lover with agonised appeal.

"I don't love you at all," mumbled the skipper in the most brazen manner, and cutting anything but an heroic figure, "you knew that I was engaged to Se�ora Guzman, and yet you wanted me to throw her over and be your husband. I never had any intention of marrying you. All I wanted was to get money out of your father, and----"

"Oh, cut it short, you hound," interrupted Herries fiercely.

Kyles turned livid.

"You are on my boat, in my power," he said, in a slow and deadly manner.

"What do I care for that?" retorted the young man, facing the buccaneer with determination. "You have acted like a cur towards my cousin."

"No, no," moaned Maud, who persisted in believing that Kyles was acting a part, because Se�ora Guzman was present, "if I had the money he would marry me."

"Very good," said Herries. "Captain Kyles, I offer you half the money left by my uncle, that is, twenty-five thousand a year, if you will marry Maud Tedder."

"Bruce! Bruce!" cried Maud, stretching out her arms, "you consent?"

"Bruce," cried Donna Maria, in her turn, with flashing eyes, "you promised me to----"

Kyles interrupted both with an imperious gesture.

"I stick to my one and only love, and that is Maria Guzman," he said sharply, but his face was pale. "I have four thousand pounds. With that I'll find the treasure and have five millions. Then we'll--but that's neither here nor there, Herries," he wheeled round to face that most indignant gentleman, "you may think what you like. It is not to my interest to kill you or to keep you prisoner. You shall hear all I know and then go free. For your opinion of me I don't care that," and he snapped his fingers contemptuously.

Herries eyed him with scorn.

"Fewer words would have done, Kyles. I wait to hear what you have to say."

"Aye," said the sage gravely, "we're wasting valuable meenutes, an' it's dry wark, a' this talk wi'oot the cheerin' cup."

Kyles flushed and winced at the tone of Herries, and cast a glance at Mrs. Narby, who was still fondling her miserable, tongue-tied son. Then he straightened himself, and his face brightened when his eyes rested on the wooden box, which contained the money he had risked so much to get. He spoke quietly and to the point.

"Sir Simon," said Captain Kyles, "objected to my marrying his daughter, and wanted me to give her up. To gain my own ends, I refused. Then he offered to bribe me with one thousand pounds. I declined, and said that I would take two thousand."

Herries shrugged his shoulders, but did not look up. Kyles reddened at this sign of contempt, and continued more rapidly, as though eager to get the shameful tale ended. The rest of the company, even the lively Gowrie, held their peace.

"Sir Simon then made his plans. He signed a will disinheriting Maud, save for �1,000 a year, and giving the money to you, Herries, provided you found out who killed him, and----"

"Why did he do that?"

"Because he was to have an interview with me at a lonely inn, and fancied that in a fit of anger I might kill him, or else might get rid of him and marry Maud with her money. That was the reason he disinherited the girl, and why he put in the proviso about the discovery of the murderer, who would, in Sir Simon's opinion, be me."

"I see," said Herries quietly, "Sir Simon wanted to make sure if you did kill him that you would not get the benefit of your crime by marrying Maud and her money."

"That's it," assented the Captain, "but I need hardly say, that I had no idea of killing the old man. When I got his letter, I arranged to go to the inn, and receive the two thousand. Then I would have gone away. As I was not certain of what time I would be at the inn, Sir Simon said that he would put a red light in his bedroom window, and that I could climb up, or that he would admit me by the door when everyone was in bed."

"I don't see the reason for all these precautions," said Herries, in an impatient manner.

"Ah, now you trench on politics. I was being watched by emissaries from our Indiana Republic, and ran a chance of being stabbed or shot. I had reason to believe that they got wind of my engagement at the 'Marsh Inn' and would be on the watch. That was why I would not fix the exact time for calling on Sir Simon. He expected me earlier, but I said that I might be late, so he invented the red handkerchief signal. Well, to make a long story short, I went to the 'Marsh Inn' with Se�ora Guzman----"

"That is, he went in the launch," she interrupted quickly. "I remained on board the launch, and----"

"Yes, yes," Herries interrupted in his turn, "I know how you sent the sailors to see if any Indiana person was about, and how they kidnapped Armour by mistake. Well, Captain, you got to the inn--at what time, may I ask?"

"Shortly after midnight. I walked through the rain and the fog, with my revolver in my hand. I knew where the inn was, as I had been there before. I noted the red light in the window----"

"I saw you--I saw you," cried Maud, looking at him eagerly.

"I am aware of that, seeing what took place afterwards."

"It was for your sake," she gasped, with a side glance at Herries.

"What is that, Maud?" asked the young man quietly.

"You'll hear in due time if you will allow me to go on with my story," said Kyles testily. "It's getting late and I wish to get away as soon as possible."

"Go on then," said Ritson who was deeply interested.

"I scrambled up to the window which was open. It had been left ajar on purpose by Sir Simon. I am not heavy," the Captain cast a complacent look at his slim figure, "so I easily clambered up the trellis-work----"

"You broke it, you beast," said Mrs. Narby savagely.

"Pooh," rejoined Kyles good-humouredly, "I did very little harm. I easily slipped into the room, wondering why Sir Simon was not on the look-out. I spoke his name softly. There was no reply, so I came gently from behind the dressing table, which had been moved to one side, and went to the bed----"

"Was there a light in the room?" asked Ritson eagerly.

"Oh yes, a candle which was placed behind a red handkerchief so as to signal the special room I was to climb into. I took the candle, and then to my horror saw that Sir Simon was lying dead with his throat cut."

"You did it," cried Maud with a sob.

"I did not," cried Kyles savagely, "the man was dead when I entered the room. His pocket-book lay on the table along with a razor, and a few papers. I could not find the money, else I should have gone away in silence. Then I heard a footstep, and concealed myself behind the curtains of the bed. The door opened gently, and this creature," he pointed to Pope, who shuddered, "crept in softly. He had a bloody towel in his hands with which he wiped them, and then began to examine the pocket-book. I crept out, and caught him by the throat. He nearly fainted."

"You hurt me," moaned Pope at this moment, and his mother fondled him.

"I would have choked you had I had the two thousand pounds safe at that time," said Kyles savagely, "to go and murder an old man in his sleep."

"I did it--I did it," cried Mrs. Narby like a parrot, and trembling violently with mixed emotions of rage and terror.

"That's rubbish, as I can prove. I made Pope confess. He said that he had been tempted by the gold and notes, which he had seen in the parlour. He crept up the stairs shortly before midnight and cut Sir Simon's throat, then he emptied the pocket-book, and took the money to his own room downstairs at the back of the house. He had come back, when I caught him, to see if he had taken everything. He also told me that you, Herries, the nephew of the old man, were in the next room asleep."

"How did he know that I was Sir Simon's nephew?"

"He heard your name, and your talk with Gowrie."

"I didn't mention to Gowrie that I was Sir Simon's nephew."

"Aye. I can stake my life on that, laddie."

"I'll explain,--I'll explain," said Kyles impatiently, "however, to continue. I promised to say nothing, if Pope went down and brought up the money. On that condition I let him go. He went and never returned. I waited and waited in that dismal room with the one candle, and the corpse on the bed. Then I thought that the red light might attract the attention of any Indiana spy who was about, so I put out the light and sat in the dark. Pope never came."

"Why not?" asked Herries surprised.

Pope opened his mouth to speak, but his watchful mother put her hand over his mouth.

"You never did it, lovey; you know nothink," she said, significantly.

"But I can prove that he did," said Kyles. "Pope did not return," he went on quickly, "because he knew that I could not give the alarm without incriminating myself, and he intended, if I did, to accuse me of killing the old man. I guessed that, and afterwards I made him confess that he intended to act in that way. So there I sat in the darkness. Then I remembered the papers on the table, and examined them to see if Sir Simon had made any mention of the appointment. I found my own letter, and confiscated that----"

"How did you see in the dark?" asked Ritson, suspiciously.

"I lighted matches, as I was afraid to relight the candle. Well then, I also found a small pocket diary written up to the time Sir Simon went to bed. It mentioned that Angus Herries was in the house, and sleeping there----"

"How did my uncle know that?" asked Herries much amazed.

"He overheard your voice raised when talking to Gowrie, and peered out of the parlour to see who it was. He recognised you----"

"Nae, nae," said Gowrie waving the smoke away from his eyes, "he cudnae hae recognised the laddie sae changed wi' weary travels. But Angus here talked tae me, his auld tutor, and I spoke his name at times. Aye, and I mind me noo, the door of the parlour opened and shut, while we hed oor crack."

"I don't remember that," said Angus thoughtfully.

"Aye, but I do, ma laddie. Ye were sae taken up wi' yer tale of woe,--and verra sad it wis,--that ye didna hear nor see. But I keeked oot o' the tail o' ma ee, and saw,--though tae be sure I didna weel ken at the time it wis yer lawfu' uncle. Hed I kenned I micht hae touched him for a shullin' or two."

"You evidently robbed Herries instead," said Kyles contemptuously.

"Eh, but that's actionable. I'll hale ye afore the magistrate for yon speech. Hoo d'y' ken I wis in Herries' room."

"I heard you muttering to yourself. Your accent betrayed you."

"Well, and wherefore no. I joost looked in tae see that my puir laddie wis asleep."

"And you took his money. Pope Narby found that out."

Gowrie turned wrathfully on the culprit.

"D'y' ken yon's a base lee?"

"Here," interrupted Herries, growing weary of all this talk, "get on with what you have to say, Captain Kyles. We can settle these minor details later. What did you do when Narby did not return?"

"I waited until the morning, then assumed Sir Simon's coat and boldly walked out of the inn."

"Why did you wait until the morning?"

"For two reasons. First, I wanted to get the money which Pope had taken away, and thought up to the last moment that he would return. And second, when I did have a half idea of escaping by the window, Armour came and sat down beneath it And there was a third reason," added Kyles, with his eyes on Maud Tedder.

"One moment before you proceed further," said Ritson quickly. "How can we believe all this about Pope Narby?"

"There's his confession," said Kyles, taking a packet from his breast pocket and throwing it across the table. "I saw him later; he refused to give up the money, but I made him sign that confession by threatening to arrest him, and----"

"Pope," yelled Mrs. Narby, "oh, you fool, did you sign----?"

"I had to, mother," moaned her son, "and Captain Kyles said he would save me by taking me away to America."

"And I'll do that," said Kyles nodding. "Herries, Ritson, you have now the truth. That confession repeats all that I have told you, and has been signed by Pope Narby, who killed Sir Simon. You can now leave the four thousand pounds with me and go ashore. I am off in another hour from these waters. But one thing I'll say before I go," he declared, "you, Herries, have defended your cousin, and have blamed me for treating her as I did. But you have very little reason to decry me, and defend her. For it was your cousin who placed the razor and the pocket-book in your room and who smeared your shirt with her father's blood."

"Maud!" cried Herries, horrified, and started to his feet.

"Yes, I did," she said, with pinched lips and a bloodless face, "I got into the inn, as I told you, but I did not run away when I heard Mr. Gowrie coming out of the bedroom. I hid, while he went down the stairs. Then I ran along to the room, where I saw a gleam of light----"

"It came from under the door," explained Kyles, "as I had lighted the candle on hearing Gowrie muttering."

"I saw it was Bruce, and he told me all, and also mentioned that Angus was sleeping in the next room. To save Bruce, and to get my own money, I determined to get Angus hanged for the crime, so I did what Bruce said. Papa had left the money to Angus, as he told Bruce, and Bruce told me, so I thought that if Angus was hanged the money would come back to me. And if you were to die now," added Maud tigerishly, "I should have my fortune again, and then my own Bruce would marry me."

Before Herries could exclaim on the iniquity of his cousin's conduct, there was a sudden shouting overhead. Kyles started and listened. Down the stairs rushed an excited man--he was one of the engineers--who cried out that the police were on board.

"The police," cried Herries, astonished.

"The police," echoed Kyles wrathfully. "Did you betray me, Herries?"

"No. I swear that I----"

"I told Trent to come," cried Ritson, much excited, "as I want the murderer arrested, and----"

Before he could say anything further, Mrs. Narby was at his throat.

"You 'ang my son," she shrieked, "I'll choke y' furst. Guy up thet confession. Pope, come an' elp me."

But Pope, terrified out of his life at his danger, ran up the cabin stairs in the vain endeavour to escape, and so fell into the arms of Trent himself. Ritson, shaking off the old woman, ran up also, and shouted out to Trent to hold the murderer. Kyles followed, and there was a general rush. The night was clear with moonlight, and the deck was filled with the sailors of the yacht. Trent, with a couple of policemen, was on board, and in the boats longside were many others who were being kept from getting on deck by some of the crew.

"I arrest everyone on board this ship," cried Trent loudly, "in the name of the King----"

"I don't care for King or Kaiser," shouted Kyles, in his turn, "you get away and leave that man."

"No, no," cried the lawyer. "Hold him tightly, Trent. He killed Sir Simon. I have the confession in my pocket. And the Captain here is an accessory after the fact."

"Arrest him," said Trent, pointing to Kyles.

A policeman advanced and was knocked down. This was the signal for a general fight. Trent held on to Pope Narby like grim death and the miserable creature was whimpering like a soul in pain. The other policemen in the boat managed to get on deck, and one who remained behind sent off a green rocket, as a sign that assistance was required. Apparently Trent, expecting some fighting, had laid his plans excellently. On the moonlit deck a mass of men struggled and strained, with much noise and clamour. Mrs. Narby fought tooth and nail for her son, but he was down under the feet of the Inspector, who stood over him with a levelled revolver. Kyles blew his bo'sn's whistle, and more and more sailors came tumbling up from below, dark, fierce-looking fellows they were, who cared for nothing. The police were overpowered gradually, but already more boats were putting off from the shore, and there was every chance that Kyles would have to yield. He shouted down to the engine room, and gave the signal to "stand by."

Trent dragged his prisoner to the side and dropped him into the boat, while Mrs. Narby clung to him, biting and scratching. Indeed, but for the assistance of Ritson, she would have succeeded in getting her son free. What with the yelling and swearing and struggling, the deck was like a pandemonium. Having secured at least one prisoner, and seeing that there was danger of bloodshed, Trent cried to his men to regain the boat. At the same time the yacht began to move, and Kyles, on the bridge, was pulling at the whistle, which shrieked shrilly. Herries, not wishing to be carried away, for the policemen were tumbling into their boat, rushed to the side, where his own boatmen were. He saw the boat, and shouted. Just as he did so, and was leaning over at a dangerous angle, he was pushed violently from behind, and had just a glimpse of Maud's malignant face as she thrust him to his death.

"The money's mine--mine," she cried, clapping her hands.

"And Bruce is mine," said Se�ora Guzman in her ear, and sent Maud Tedder overboard after her victim.