BRITISH MYSTERIES - Fergus Hume Collection: 21 Thriller Novels in One Volume. Fergus Hume

Villiers, boldly.

      ‘Indeed!’ sneered Gaston, ‘at my expense, I presume.’

      ‘Yes! I will denounce you as the murderer of Pierre Lemaire.’

      ‘And I,’ said Kitty, quickly, ‘will prove Villiers’ innocence.’

      Vandeloup turned on her with all the lithe, cruel grace of a tiger.

      ‘First you must prove your own innocence,’ he said, in a low, fierce voice. ‘Yes; if you can hang me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire, I can hang you for the murder of Selina Sprotts; yes, though I know you did not do it.’

      ‘Ah!’ said Kitty, quickly, springing forward, ‘you know who committed the crime.’

      ‘Yes,’ replied Vandeloup, slowly, ‘the man who committed the crime intended to murder Madame Midas, and he was the man who hated her and wished her dead—her husband.’

      ‘I?’ cried Villiers, starting forward, ‘you lie.’

      Vandeloup wheeled round quickly on him, and, getting close to him, spoke rapidly.

      ‘No, I do not lie,’ he said, in a concentrated voice of anger; ‘you followed me up to the house of M. Meddlechip, and hid among the trees on the lawn to watch the house; you saw Bebe throw the bottle out, and picked it up; then you went to St Kilda and, climbing over the wall, committed the crime, as she,’ pointing to Kitty, ‘saw you do; I met you in the street near the house after you had committed it, and see,’ plunging his hand into Villiers’ pocket, ‘here is the bottle which contained the poison,’ and he held up to Kitty the bottle with the two red bands round it, which she had thrown away.

      ‘It is false!’ cried Villiers, in despair, seeing that all the evidence was against him.

      ‘Prove it, then,’ retorted Vandeloup, knocking at the door to summon the warder. ‘Save your own neck before you put mine in danger.’

      The door opened, and the warder appeared. Kitty and Villiers gazed horror-struck at one another, while Vandeloup, without another word, rapidly left the cell. The warder beckoned to Villiers to come, and, with a deep sigh, he obeyed.

      ‘Where are you going?’ asked Kitty, as he moved towards the door.

      ‘Going?’ he repeated, mechanically. ‘I am going to see my wife.’

      He left the cell, and when he got outside the gaol he saw the hansom with Vandeloup in it driving rapidly away. Villiers looked at the retreating vehicle in despair. ‘My God,’ he murmured, raising his face to the blue sky with a frightful expression of despair; ‘how am I to escape the clutches of this devil?’

Chapter XVI.

       Be Sure Thy Sin Will Find Thee Out

       Table of Contents

      Madame Midas was a remarkably plucky woman, but it needed all her pluck and philosophy to bear up against the terrible calamities which were befalling her. Her faith in human nature was completely destroyed, and she knew that all the pleasure of doing good had gone out of her life. The discovery of Kitty’s baseness had wounded her deeply, and she found it difficult to persuade herself that the girl had not been the victim of circumstances. If Kitty had only trusted her when she came to live with her all this misery and crime would have been avoided, for she would have known Madame Midas would never have married Vandeloup, and thus would have had no motive for committing the crime. Regarding Vandeloup’s pretensions to her hand, Mrs Villiers laughed bitterly to herself. After the misery of her early marriage it was not likely she was going to trust herself and her second fortune again to a man’s honour. She sighed as she thought what her future life must be. She was wealthy, it was true, but amid all her riches she would never be able to know the meaning of friendship, for all who came near her now would have some motive in doing so, and though Madame Midas was anxious to do good with her wealth, yet she knew she could never expect gratitude in return. The comedy of human life is admirable when one is a spectator; but ah! the actors know they are acting, and have to mask their faces with smiles, restrain the tears which they would fain let flow, and mouth witty sayings with breaking hearts. Surely the most bitter of all feelings is that cynical disbelief in human nature which is so characteristic of our latest civilization.

      Madame Midas, however, now that Melbourne was so hateful to her, determined to leave it, and sent up to Mr Calton in order to confer with him on the subject. Calton came down to St Kilda, and was shown into the drawing-room where Mrs Villiers, calm and impenetrable looking as ever, sat writing letters. She arose as the barrister entered, and gave him her hand.

      ‘It was kind of you to come so quickly,’ she said, in her usual quiet, self-contained manner; ‘I wish to consult you on some matters of importance.’

      ‘I am at your service, Madame,’ replied Calton, taking a seat, and looking keenly at the marble face before him; ‘I am glad to see you looking so well, considering what you have gone through.’

      Mrs Villiers let a shadowy smile flit across her face.

      ‘They say the Red Indian becomes utterly indifferent to the torture of his enemies after a certain time,’ she answered, coldly; ‘I think it is the same with me. I have been deceived and disillusionized so completely that I have grown utterly callous, and nothing now can move me either to sorrow or joy.’

      ‘A curious answer from a curious woman,’ thought Calton, glancing at her as she sat at the writing-table in her black dress with the knots of violet ribbons upon it; ‘what queer creatures experience makes us.’

      Madame Midas folded her hands loosely on the table, and looked dreamily out of the open French window, and at the trellis covered with creeping plants beyond, through which the sun was entering in pencils of golden light. Life would have been so sweet to her if she had only been content to be deceived like other people; but then she was not of that kind. Faith with her was a religion, and when religion is taken away, what remains?—nothing.

      ‘I am going to England,’ she said, abruptly, to Calton, rousing herself out of these painful reflections.

      ‘After the trial, I presume?’ observed Calton, slowly.

      ‘Yes,’ she answered, hesitatingly; ‘do you think they will—they will—hang the girl?’

      Calton shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can’t tell you,’ he answered, with a half smile; ‘if she is found guilty—well—I think she will be imprisoned for life.’

      ‘Poor Kitty,’ said Madame, sadly, ‘it was an evil hour when you met Vandeloup. What do you think of him?’ she asked, suddenly.

      ‘He’s a scoundrel,’ returned Calton, decisively; ‘still, a clever one, with a genius for intrigue; he should have lived in the times of Borgian Rome, where his talents would have been appreciated; now we have lost the art of polite murder.’

      ‘Do you know,’ said Mrs Villiers, musingly, leaning back in her chair, ‘I cannot help thinking Kitty is innocent of this crime.’

      ‘She may be,’ returned Calton, ambiguously, ‘but the evidence seems very strong against her.’

      ‘Purely circumstantial,’ interrupted Madame Midas, quickly.

      ‘Purely circumstantial, as you say,’ assented Calton; ‘still, some new facts may be discovered before the trial which may prove her to be innocent. After the mystery which enveloped the death of Oliver Whyte in the hansom cab murder I hesitate giving a decided answer, in any case till everything has been thoroughly sifted; but, if not Kitty Marchurst, whom do you suspect—Vandeloup?’

      ‘No; he wanted to marry me, not to kill me.’

      ‘Have you any enemy, then, who would do such a thing?’

      ‘Yes; my husband.’

      ‘But