Chapter 26

A CONFESSION.

That afternoon Prelice was up and dressed, and seated in the drawing-room, talking earnestly to Martaban and Ned Shepworth. His head was perfectly clear, although still a trifle sore, and he wore a picturesque bandage round it, which added to his pale and interesting looks. But the colour was gradually creeping back to his cheeks, and he was well enough to hear further what had taken place since he had been rendered unconscious.

Shepworth was lounging in the window-seat under one of the painted windows, and it might have been the rosy light which came through this which made him look so happy and healthy. On the other hand, it might have been the consciousness that fate had opened the way to his marrying the woman he loved, and who loved him. He could not find it in his heart to regret Rover's timely death. The man had always behaved badly to his wife, and had done his best to make her life a martyrdom. Now, poor victim of a family sacrifice, she would have a chance of being happy for the rest of her life.

Mr. Martaban, seated at the table with a few sheets of foolscap before him, also looked happy. And no wonder. His beloved client, Miss Mona Chent, had inherited the lovely old house and ten thousand a year, and shortly was to become Lady Prelice. A great change this from the time, not so long ago, when she had stood in the New Bailey dock accused of murder. And again, the sheets of foolscap with which the lawyer fiddled contained a confession by Madame Marie Eppingrave which entirely cleansed the name of Miss Chent from the stain of crime.

"This is not the original document," explained the delighted Mr. Martaban to the anxious Lord Prelice. "Inspector Bruge has the original, which was signed by Marie Eppingrave in his presence."

"How did she come to make the confession?"

"I think it was because Captain Jadby was dead," put in Shepworth from his end of the room. "She held up, until it was proved beyond all doubt that he had been shot through the heart. Then—I suppose—she saw that life was not worth living without him, and so decided to put an end to herself."

"How did she manage it, seeing that she was in custody?"

"Oh, she had some phial filled with poison about her. I expect she had everything prepared to make away with herself should Jadby have succeeded in kidnapping Mona to the South Seas. However, we stopped that, thank Heaven, and Madame Marie confessed."

"I wonder she did," said Prelice reflectively.

"I think it was because she had a sneaking regard for you, Dorry," said the barrister after a pause. "To the last she declared that she was your friend, and hoped that you would be happy. However, she did confess, and yonder is the copy of her confession."

"What does it say?" questioned the other man.

"I am about to read it to you," said Martaban, gathering up the sheets skilfully; "or else, if you prefer it, I can give you a shorter account in the form of a story."

"I should prefer that," said Prelice gravely. "I haven't patience to wait to the end of that long screed to know the exact truth. Who murdered Sir Oliver? Tell me at once."

"Steve Agstone, inspired and coerced by Madame Marie."

"Humph! So Brisson was right after all," commented Prelice. "And who got rid of Agstone?"

"Captain Jadby."

"The deuce!" Prelice raised himself on his couch. "Did he wear that sham frock?"

"He did," said Shepworth quickly; "and being, as you know, slimly built, I quite mistook him for a woman, seeing how clever was the disguise——"

Martaban waved his hand impatiently, as Shepworth drew breath to continue his speech. "Let me speak," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Lord Prelice, you know, of course, that Madame Marie Eppingrave was deeply in love with this man Jadby."

"Yes. Brisson told me so, and so did Madame herself."

"To make a long story short," said Martaban, gathering up the papers, and speaking with much deliberation, "this woman wished to marry Jadby, and as she was rich, he was willing to do so. Then he decided to go to England, and see if Sir Oliver—his father, remember—was keeping to his promise of leaving the money to his natural son. Madame Marie supplied the cash for Jadby to live in London, and brought him there in her yacht—the Kanaro—commanded by Captain Brisson."

"And the yacht was anchored in the Thames until Madame sent it round at Jadby's request to Folkstone for the kidnapping," said Prelice. "I know all that, Mr. Martaban. Continue."

The lawyer did so very willingly. "For some reason—I know not why, seeing that she was wealthy—Madame Marie took to telling fortunes in the Bond Street establishment. Jadby, on the other hand, came down to see his father in this house, and here fell in love with Miss Chent. He kept this secret from Madame Marie, naturally fearing what she would say; but she suspected something, and insisted upon coming down to see Sir Oliver, whom she had known in the South Seas. Madame learned that Lanwin was in favour of the match, and therefore set herself to work to thwart it by every means in her power. She implored Sir Oliver to allow Miss Chent to marry Shepworth here——"

"Thinking that we loved one another because of the sham engagement," said the barrister quickly.

"Quite so, quite so," said Mr. Martaban, annoyed by the interruption; "I hinted at that before. However, Sir Oliver was bent upon his natural son inheriting the property and marrying his cousin—as Miss Chent truly was. Miss Chent refused, and Sir Oliver drew out a new will, of which Madame Marie knew. It confirmed the will made in Jadby's favour."

"But what was the need of that?" asked Prelice, surprised. "Wasn't the first will good enough?"

"Oh yes, but as it had been made in the South Seas, Sir Oliver thought—very wrongly, in point of fact—that there might be some flaw. Now, Lord Prelice, you can see that if Jadby married Miss Chent, the elder woman would lose him——"

"Madame Marie, you mean?"

"Yes, yes. I speak plainly, do I not? Well then, if Jadby inherited the property Madame Marie lost him all the same, as while he had money he would never marry her. She therefore decided to destroy the third will, which had not been signed, and—to have Sir Oliver murdered."

"Why didn't she stick him herself?" asked Prelice.

"A strange woman," said the solicitor meditatively; "she would do much to gain her ends, even employing a third person to commit a crime. But for some feminine reason she would not stain her own hands with blood."

"Rather a quibble."

"It is, my lord, it is. However, to continue. As Mr. Haken wished to borrow money from Sir Oliver, and consulted Madame Marie about the same, she used his confidence as a lever by which to obtain the leaves of the Sacred Herb from Dr. Horace. Before that time he had refused her, but he gave the herb to Mr. Haken. I don't know why."

"I do," said Prelice below his breath, and thinking of the openly expressed hatred which Horace had proclaimed towards the dead man.

Martaban took no notice of the interruption. "Mr. Haken got the herb, and gave it to Madame Marie, who handed it to Sir Oliver on the day of the murder. As you know, Jadby and Shepworth quarrelled on that day."

"Yes," said Shepworth vigorously. "Jadby learned about my love for a certain lady—through Madame Marie, I believe—and threatened to make himself disagreeable. I gave him a black eye, and myself a sprained ankle. Then the murder took place."

"Yes," said Martaban; "and Mr. Haken was in the library, when——"

"I know," interrupted Prelice sharply; "my uncle told me. But how did Madame Marie induce Steve to murder his master?"

"It seems that she knew how Agstone was wanted for certain other murders in the South Seas," said Martaban, glancing at the papers, "so she threatened to have him extradited unless he did her bidding. He was, I regret to say, quite willing to do so, as he hated Sir Oliver, who treated him like a slave."

"That," said Prelice emphatically, "I also know from Brisson. And then?"

"Then when Mr. Haken retired, Sir Oliver burned the herb in a shallow bronze cup—the same as Mr. Shepworth saw in his flat—and went into a trance. Madame Marie had arranged with Agstone that he should watch at the window until Sir Oliver was insensible, and then kill him. The man did so with the jade-handled paper-knife."

"Why wasn't Agstone stifled with the smoke fumes?"

"Because the smoke had died away. When Sir Oliver was dead, Agstone heard a step, and, after setting fire to some more leaves, he ran out of the window, not the one opened by Miss Chent, but another one. He watched, and saw Miss Chent enter; saw also how she fainted with the acrid smoke. He entered, and placed her in the armchair where she was found. It was then that Madame Marie came downstairs and into the room. She snatched up the third will, at which Sir Oliver had been looking, before manipulating the herb, and tearing it up, flung it into the fire. Then she gave the will leaving everything to Miss Chent—which Lanwin had also been looking at to destroy, I presume—to Agstone, and told him to take it up to his brother, Dr. Horace."

"What for?" asked Prelice, surprised.

"Madame Marie said she had no grudge against Miss Chent," explained Martaban, "and wanted the will placed safely out of Jadby's way, so that Miss Chent might inherit, and that Jadby might be kept poor."

"One for Mona and two for herself," said Prelice grimly. "But who placed the knife in Mona's hand?"

"Agstone, who hated her, did. A step was heard—that was Shepworth coming down—so Madame Marie ran out of the window, and got back to her room by another door, which Agstone had left open. The man waited to smear Miss Chent's dressing-gown with blood and to place the knife in her hand. Then Mr. Shepworth—so he says—secured the knife, and——"

"I know all that," said Prelice, "and understand the why and the wherefore of the first crime. But the second?"

"That arose out of Jadby's hatred for Shepworth and his love for Miss Chent. Jadby learned the truth about the crime from Agstone, whom he found hiding in London, under the protection of Madame Marie. He threatened to denounce him to the police to save Miss Chent, and then resolved to make use of him to incriminate Shepworth, and, at the same time, to kill him, so that he might not come forward to give evidence against Miss Chent, which Agstone wanted to do."

"But surely he would not have accused Mona of a crime which he had committed himself?" said Prelice indignantly.

"Yes, he would," said Ned quickly; "he hated Mona, and Sir Oliver, and Madame Marie, and Jadby, and everyone. The man was a Caliban; and to tell you the truth," added Shepworth candidly, "I don't think that his brother is much better."

"Ah!" said Prelice suddenly, "did Agstone confess the truth to Horace?"

"No; he did not. He simply came and handed over the will, as Madame Marie had instructed him, and then cleared out. He had to do what he was told, or else he would have been hanged."

"Well, I see. Now the Alexander Mansions crime."

Martaban went on again, glancing at the sheets. "Madame Marie learned about Mrs. Rover's dress, and told Captain Jadby, so that he could get a double made, which he did."

"Was she in favour of this second crime?"

"Oh no; for then Miss Chent would be set free to marry Jadby. She liked Miss Chent in a way, but did not intend her to be an obstacle."

"I don't believe that she liked Mona at all," snapped Prelice irritably; "she saved the second will so that Jadby might be made penniless, and would have stopped the second crime from being committed so that Mona might be condemned on Agstone's evidence. A wicked woman."

"She was all that," assented Martaban. "But allow me to proceed. Madame Marie merely thought that Jadby wished to be disguised to meet Haken, and told him about the dress, knowing that Haken intended to remonstrate with Shepworth about his conduct."

"Which was perfectly correct," cried Ned indignantly.

"But why in a dress like Mrs. Rover's?" asked Prelice, puzzled.

Martaban scratched his head. "I am not quite clear on that point," he declared; "all I know is that Madame Marie wished to mix up things. I believe that she had some clearly defined scheme in her head; but what it was she did not explain. Nevertheless, you can see how Jadby came to the ball disguised."

"Yes. But how did Agstone enter?"

"I can tell you that," said Shepworth, rising with a yawn. "Jadby, as you know, called to see me early in the evening. I opened the door to him, as the servants were out. He entered, and I preceded him into the drawing-room. He went back for his handkerchief, which he said he had dropped in the hall, and then must have set the door ajar. While I talked to him Agstone entered, and concealed himself under the dining-table. Then Jadby went to the ball in his disguise. Agstone set the herb burning, and stifled me, and afterwards admitted Jadby in his disguise. I was incriminated, you see; and Jadby, to make me quite insensible, lest I should see too much, waved the bronze cup under my nose. When I was completely insensible he stabbed Agstone with the knife, which Agstone—having taken it from my desk—had intended to use on me. Finally, Jadby returned to the ball, and concealed his dress in the cupboard in Rover's dressing-room, which was used on that night as a cloakroom. Afterwards he came down in a plain blue domino to clinch the fact that I had murdered Agstone. But you had bowled him out by then, Dorry."

There was a silence. "A strange story," said Prelice thoughtfully. "Does Inspector Bruge know it?"

"Yes; and a carefully prepared account, suppressing certain facts, has been sent to the newspapers," said Martaban, folding up the sheets. "You can be certain now, Lord Prelice, that in two days all London will learn the truth, and that Miss Chent will be looked upon as a martyr."

"Quite so; but I trust in a month or so she will be looked upon as my very dear and loving wife."

"Loud cheers!" cried Ned, adopting Prelice's favourite expression.