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

me, without hurting himself, he would,’ and rising from her seat she paced up and down the room slowly.

      ‘I know your sad story,’ said the barrister, ‘and also how your husband disappeared; but, to my mind, looking at all the circumstances, you will not be troubled with him again.’

      A sudden exclamation made him turn his head, and he saw Madame Midas, white as death, staring at the open French window, on the threshold of which was standing a man—medium height, black beard, and a haggard, hunted look in his eyes.

      ‘Who is this?’ cried Calton, rising to his feet.

      Madame Midas tottered, and caught at the mantelpiece for support.

      ‘My husband,’ she said, in a whisper.

      ‘Alive?’ said Calton, turning to the man at the window.

      ‘I should rather think so,’ said Villiers, insolently, advancing into the room; ‘I don’t look like a dead man, do I?’

      Madame Midas sprang forward and caught his wrist.

      ‘So you have come back, murderer!’ she hissed in his ear.

      ‘What do you mean?’ said her husband, wrenching his hand away.

      ‘Mean?’ she cried, vehemently; ‘you know what I mean. You cut yourself off entirely from me by your attempt on my life, and the theft of the gold; you dare not have showed yourself in case you received the reward of your crime; and so you worked in the dark against me. I knew you were near, though I did not see you; and you for a second time attempted my life.’

      ‘I did not,’ muttered Villiers, shrinking back from the indignant blaze of her eyes. ‘I can prove—’

      ‘You can prove,’ she burst out, contemptuously, drawing herself up to her full height, ‘Yes! you can prove anything with your cowardly nature and lying tongue; but prove that you were not the man who came in the dead of night and poisoned the drink waiting for me, which was taken by my nurse. You can prove—yes, as God is my judge, you shall prove it, in the prisoner’s dock, e’er you go to the gallows.’

      During all this terrible speech, Villiers had crouched on the ground, half terrified, while his wife towered over him, magnificent in her anger. At the end, however, he recovered himself a little, and began to bluster.

      ‘Every man has a right to a hearing,’ he said, defiantly, looking from his wife to Calton; ‘I can explain everything.’

      Madame Midas pointed to a chair.

      ‘I have no doubt you will prove black is white by your lying,’ she said, coldly, returning to her seat; ‘I await this explanation.’

      Thereupon Villiers sat down and told them the whole story of his mysterious disappearance, and how he had been made a fool of by Vandeloup. When he had ended, Calton, who had resumed his seat, and listened to the recital with deep interest, stole a glance at Madame Midas, but she looked as cold and impenetrable as ever.

      ‘I understand, now, the reason of your disappearance,’ she said, coldly; ‘but that is not the point. I want to know the reason you tried to murder me a second time.’

      ‘I did not,’ returned Villiers, quietly, with a gesture of dissent.

      ‘Then Selina Sprotts, since you are so particular,’ retorted his wife, with a sneer; ‘but it was you who committed the crime.’

      ‘Who says I did?’ cried Villiers, standing up.

      ‘No one,’ put in Calton, looking at him sharply, ‘but as you had a grudge against your wife, it is natural for her to suspect you, at the same time it is not necessary for you to criminate yourself.’

      ‘I am not going to do so,’ retorted Villiers; ‘if you think I’d be such a fool as to commit a crime and then trust myself to my wife’s tender mercies, you are very much mistaken. I am as innocent of the murder as the poor girl who is in prison.’

      ‘Then she is not guilty?’ cried Mrs Villiers, rising.

      ‘No,’ returned Villiers, coldly, ‘she is innocent.’

      ‘Oh, indeed,’ said Calton, quietly; ‘then if you both are innocent, who is the guilty person?’

      Villiers was about to speak when another man entered the open window. This was none other than Kilsip, who advanced eagerly to Villiers.

      ‘He has come in at the gate,’ he said, quickly.

      ‘Have you the warrant,’ asked Villiers, as a sharp ring was heard at the front door.

      Kilsip nodded, and Villiers turned on his wife and Calton, who were too much astonished to speak.

      ‘You asked me who committed the crime,’ he said, in a state of suppressed excitement; ‘look at that door,’ pointing to the door which led into the hall, ‘and you will see the real murderer of Selina Sprotts appear.’

      Calton and Madame Midas turned simultaneously, and the seconds seemed like hours as they waited with bated breath for the opening of the fatal door. The same name was on their lips as they gazed with intense expectation, and that name was—Gaston Vandeloup.

      The noise of approaching footsteps, a rattle at the handle of the door, and it was flung wide open as the servant announced—

      ‘Mr Jarper.’

      Yes, there he stood, meek, apologetic, and smiling—the fast-living bank-clerk, the darling of society, and the secret assassin—Mr Bartholomew Jarper.

      He advanced smilingly into the room, when suddenly the smile died away, and his face blanched as his eyes rested on Villiers. He made a step backward as if to fly, but in a moment Kilsip was on him.

      ‘I arrest you in the Queen’s name for the murder of Selina Sprotts,’ and he slipped the handcuffs on his wrists.

      The wretched young man fell down on the floor with an agonised shriek.

      ‘It’s a lie—it’s a lie,’ he howled, beating his manacled hands on the carpet, ‘none can prove I did it.’

      ‘What about Vandeloup?’ said Villiers, looking at the writhing figure at his feet, ‘and this proof?’ holding out the bottle with the red bands.

      Jarper looked up with an expression of abject fear on his white face, then with a shriek fell back again in a swoon.

      Kilsip went to the window and a policeman appeared in answer to his call, then between them they lifted up the miserable wretch and took him to a cab which was waiting, and were soon driving off up to the station, from whence Jarper was taken to the Melbourne gaol.

      Calton turned to Madame Midas and saw that she also had fainted and was lying on the floor. He summoned the servants to attend to her, then, making Villiers come with him, he went up to his office in town in order to get the whole story of the discovery of the murderer.

      The papers were full of it next day, and Villiers’ statement, together with Jarper’s confession, were published side by side. It appeared that Jarper had been living very much above his income, and in order to get money he had forged Mrs Villiers’ name for several large amounts. Afraid of being discovered, he was going to throw himself on her mercy and confess all, which he would have done had Madame Midas come to the Meddlechip’s ball. But overhearing the conversation between Kitty and Vandeloup in the conservatory, and seeing the bottle flung out, he thought if he secured it he could poison Madame Midas without suspicion and throw the guilt upon Kitty. He secured the bottle immediately after Vandeloup took Kitty back to the ball-room, and then went down to St Kilda to commit the crime. He knew the house thoroughly as he had often been in it, and saw that the window of Madame’s room was open. He then put his overcoat on the glass bottles on top of the wall and leapt inside, clearing the bushes. He stole across the lawn and stepped over the flower-bed, carefully avoiding making any marks. He had the bottle of poison with him, but was