THE
CARBUNCLE CLUE
A MYSTERY

FERGUS ^HUME
AUTHOR OF
"THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM CAB," "MONSIEUR JUDAS," "THE
WHITE PRIOR," ETC

SECOND EDITION.
LONDON
FREDERICK WARNE & CO.
AND NEW YORK





CONTENTS.
I. The Mubdeb in Gabby Stbeet .... 9
n. What Mbs. Phobney Heabd 17
m. Doolan's Statement 25
IV. The Man peom Lima 33
V. The Accused 41
VI. The Key of the Chambeb 49
VII. The Folded Papeb 67
VHT. Lena Dabbel G7
IX. The Otheb Woman 75
X. The Dead Man's Name 83
XI. A Leadeb in the "Mobning Planet" . .92
XII. Sixpence 99
XTTI. Pbetty Mbs. Bbynmaub 108
XIV. DrPLOMACY 117
XV. The Cabved Stick .126
XVI. An Impobtant Discoveby 134
XVH. A Duel oe Wobds • 140
XVIII. Anotheb Subprise .149
XIX. Still in the Dabk 157
XX. Mbs. Bbynmaub's "At Home" . • . .165
XXI. A Mystebious Individual 173
XXII. A Daughteb's Devotion .
^ (RECAP)
T> <\ K
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viii CONTENTS.
CHAPTIR TIDE
XXIII. The Dead Man's Diabt -.189
XXIV. The Miasma Link 197
XXV. Mrs. Bbtnmaub's Story 205
XXVI. The Secret op the Staff 217
XXVII. Madrazo at Bat 224
XXVIII. Run to Earth 234
XXIX. A Fuix Confession 243
XXX. The Opinion of Octavius Rixton . . . 253


THE
Carbuncle Clue.
CHAPTEK I.
THE MUEDEE IN GAEEY STEEET.
In the month of July, '94, at 6.40, the Plymouth ex-
press was slowing down for Swindon Junction. Here
the majority of the passengers alighted for a few
minutes to stretch their legs, to refresh themselves,
and to purchase the country editions of the London
evening papers. Octavius Fanks, detective, bought
the "Globe," "Westminster," and "Star," hastily
swallowed a glass of wine at the buffet, and returned
to the first-class smoking compartment which he had
been fortunate enough to secure at Bristol. Here he
settled himself in a corner to learn what events had
taken place since his absence from the Metropolis.
The perusal of the three newspapers afforded him
ample food for reflection; he guessed that they would,
from the harrowing shriek of Smiths' newsboys.
'"Orrid murder in Garry Street; mysterus crime
in Westminster. Hextra speshill; arrist of th' mur-
direr. Full details an' 'igh life revilations. 'Star,'
'Hecho,' 'Westminster.' 'Ere y'are, sir. Murder!"
As a detective, Fanks was naturally interested in
n


10
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
the announcement, and when the express moved out
of the station he unfolded the "Star" and settled
down to read full details of the crime. The report of
the latest London tragedy was set forth with sen-
sational headlines, as follows: —
"MYSTERIOUS MURDER IN WESTMINSTER
CHAMBERS. I
"arrest of a well-known man-about-town.
"Revelations in High Life.
"At twelve o'clock last night a dead man was
discovered in the chambers of Mr. Gerald Conway,
Garry Street, Westminster. Mr. Conway stated that
he returned from the Ciirtain Theatre at midnight,
and entered his library to see if there were any letters
for him. Here he was astonished to see a man in
evening dress, seated before the escritoire apparently
asleep, with his head resting on his folded arms. Mr.
Conway spoke to the intruder, but receiving no reply,
shook him by the shoulder. To his horror, the body
rolled off the chair on to the floor. The man was
dead.
"At once Mr. Conway summoned his Servant,
Doolan, who was then in bed, and sent him for assist-
ance. The doctor and the police arrived simultane-
ously, but as the former could do nothing, life being
extinct, the latter took charge of the body. In his
statement to the police Mr. Conway declared that he
did not know the deceased.
"He returned from the theatre quite unprepared
for the presence of anyone in his library, least of all
a complete stranger. The deceased is a man of


THE MUBDMR IN GARBY STBEET. 11
medium height, dark-haired and clean-shaven, with
blue eyes, and aquiline nose. He was in evening
dress, but his pockets were empty, and there are no
marks on his linen or clothes likely to reveal his
identity. The deceased is nameless and unknown.
"Death was caused by a wound in the back, under
the left shoulder-blade; evidently inflicted by a sharp
weapon such as a dagger, a stiletto, or a slender sword.
No weapon could be discovered by the police in the
room. Mr. Conway stated that the door cf his
chambers was locked, and that the electric light was
full on when he entered the library. How the de-
ceased obtained admittance is a mystery, as Mr. Con-
way alone has the key which, at once, opens the street
door and the door of his chambers. Mr. Conway
refuses further information regarding his movements
on the night. The servant Doolan sleeps in a distant
room off the kitchen. He is slightly deaf, and states
that he retired to bed at ten o'clock, as he had received
his master's permission to do so. He heard no noise,
and did not leave his room until summoned by Mr.
Conway: he then entered the library, to find his
master greatly disturbed, standing by the dead body.
Doolan also denies all knowledge of deceased.
"So far as he knew, his master had no appointment
to meet anyone in the library on that night. The
sole clue likely to lead to the identification of the
deceased is a thin gold bangle containing a small car-
buncle which encircles the left wrist. The carbuncle
is graven with the figure of a weasel. The name and
identity of the dead man may be established by this
carbuncle clue.


12 THE CABBVNCLE CLUE.
"As yet the affair is wrapped in mystery, and as
Mr. Conway is singularly reticent on the subject, as
also is his servant Doolan, the police can gain no in-
formation likely to lead to the arrest of the murderer.
"Latest details. At twelve o'clock to-day Mr.
Conway was arrested on suspicion of being concerned
in the murder of the man found in his chambers in
Garry Street, Westminster. Mr. Conway is a nephew
of Lord Batehwin."
Fanks carefully read this highly-coloured report
from beginning to end. By way of a change he took
up the "Westminster Gazette," and therein found a
sketch of the life of the supposed murderer.
"Mr. Gerald Ancaster Conway, who has been
arrested on suspicion of being concerned in the Garry
Street murder, is a nephew of Lord Batehwin, and
was educated at Eton and Oxford. He is thirty years
of age, and in 1890 succeeded to the Barnleigh estates
in Devonshire, on the death of his cousin, Mr. Horace
Bennett, who died at Lima, Peru, some four years
back. Mr. Conway is engaged to Miss Lena Darrel,
the daughter of Mr. Michael Darrel, the well-known
philanthropist. At present he is lodged in Holloway
Gaol, bail being refused. The police are very reticent
over the matter, and it is impossible to discover on
what grounds Mr. Conway has been arrested. We
therefore forbear to make any comment on the affair,
until further facts are made public at the inquest,
which takes place in a few days. Mr. Conway will
be brought before the magistrate during the early
part of next week. The whole circumstances of the
case are most extraordinary, and are paralleled in


14
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
nionly supposed to exist only in detective novels; yet
which occur in real life with a frequency which would
appal the ordinary Londoner.
Fate is a hetter contriver of plots than your most
experienced novelist; but consider the material with
which she has to work. Every moment of Metro-
politan life offers its particular problem for solution,
and the few that are unravelled are as nothing in com-
parison with the countless enigmas that can never be
solved. London is an eternal Sphinx who proposes
endless riddles for the guessing of detective CEdipuses,
but few give the correct answers.
The general public are acquainted with Octavius
Fanks, the detective, by whose keen brain the
majority of criminal problems have been solved; the
polite world west of Trafalgar Square is intimate
with Octavius Rixton, of an excellent Derbyshire
family, who passes for a mere idler. Few know that
Fanks and Rixton are one and the same person; an
ignorance which the detective has found of infinite
service to him in his profession. Rixton knows most
of the secrets of the West-end, and sometimes he makes
use of them in his professional capacity; thereby
finding that a dual life is not without its advantages.
His reasons for leading a double existence have been
already explained to the public, so that in the present
instance nothing need be said; save that Fanks in his
detective skin was returning from the "West country,
where he had brought to justice a diamond thief.
"But the case was hardly worth leaving London
for," ruminated Fanks, as the train drew towards
Paddington; "a stupid, easy matter that a country


TELE MUBDEB IN GABBY STBEET. 15
policeman could have dealt with. This affair in Garry
Street is a problem. I hope it will be placed in my
hands for solution. But it is just as likely that they
have given it to that idiot of a Crate. Well, no
matter. Since the case of the Chinese Jar he has
entertained considerable regard for my opinion, so I'll
have little difficulty in inducing him to let me handle
the matter. Poor Conway: if I were not bound by
my professional reputation to take up the case, I
would do so on account of my friendship for him."
Fanks was well acquainted with Gerald Conway,
although- the latter only knew him as Rixton. To
help his friend at this crisis, Fanks resolved to reveal
himself in his true colours, and to make use of his
professional skill in the matter. The idea was un-
palatable, as he liked to keep his two selfs widely
apart; but in this instance the exigencies of the case
demanded the admission. Moreover, as the conduct
of the matter would lie mainly in the West-end, and
would probably bring him into contact with people
who knew him as Rixton, it was almost a necessity
that he should take it up in his real name if he wished
to preserve his secret. He could pose as an amateur
detective, and thus account for his connection with
the matter; besides which, his friendship with Con-
way would sufficiently explain his active interference.
"Yes," decided Fanks, beginning to collect his
parcelc as the train entered Paddington Station, "as
Octavius Kixton I can attend to the matter, and see
people on behalf of Conway. As Fanks I can make
use of the information I gain as Rixton. Only
Conway need know that I am a detective, and not


16
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
even he unless I choose; but I had better tell him,
as it will give him more confidence in me, and hamper
my movements less."
This matter being so decided, it will be necessary
in the following chapters to call the detective by
his true name of Eixton. As Rixton, amateur
thief-catcher, he conducts the case, and hunts
down the unknown murderer of the unknown victim.
Henceforth Fanks is only known east of Trafalgar
Square. Octavius Bixton he is now, and Octavius
Rixton he will continue till the conclusion of the case.
At Bristol he entered the train as Fanks; at Pad-
dington he left the station as Rixton, and, hastily
bestowing himself and his luggage in a hansom, he
drove to his chambers in Duke Street, St. James's.
As the cab rolled through the brilliantly lighted
streets, Rixton heard the strident and raucous voices
of the newsboys still proclaiming the latest sensation—
"Arrest of the Garry Street murderer! 'Orrid
rivilashuns! Myst'rous carbun'l clew! Hextra
speshull I"


18 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
the room wherein the murder took place, and inter-
view the owner of that room."
"Pooh! pooh! Conway admits that he alone has
the key of his chambers, so without his aid the dead
man could not have entered."
"And that very admission is to my mind a proof
of Conway's innocence," said Rixton drily. "If he
were guilty he could not afford to make so damaging
a statement."
"Oh!" remarked Crate, after a pause, "I suppose
you assume that Doolan admitted this unknown per-
son, and then murdered him? Eh, Mr. Fanks?"
"I assume nothing of the sort. Doolan would
hardly be such a fool as to murder a man and after-
wards remain in the house with the damaging evidence
of the dead body. There is one thing, Crate, which I
wish to mention. Just now you called me 'Fanks.'
In conducting this case I desire to be known as an
amateur detective, Rixton."
"Your real name! Why?"
"Because my work will he mostly in the West-end,
where I cannot conceal my identity. I do not wish
it to be known that I am connected with Scotland
Yard. Therefore, when you call on me at Duke
Street, or should you meet me while investigating this
matter, you can address me as Rixton, and assume
the lordly manner you affected towards me before I
solved the mystery of the Chinese Jar.'
"I thought you had forgiven me for that," said
Crate, reddening.
"So I have: you now admit that I can do some-
thing. But as regards my change of name"


WHAT MItS. PHORNEY HEARD. 19
"I understand, Mr. Rixton: your secret will be kept
by me. But how do you intend to begin, and when?"
"At Garry Street, this instant," said Rixton, put-
ting on his hat. "I have now secured the necessary
authority to enable me to act. Good-bye, Crate.
Should you wish to know how I succeed, look me up
at Duke Street any evening between six and eight.
I may require your assistance."
"All right, sir," replied Crate, and looked reveren-
tially after the retiring form of his late enemy. He
now idolized Fanks, and was as ready to praise, as for-
merly he had been to condemn him. "Oh, he'll find
out the truth," said Crate, returning to his work;
"he can see through a brick wall, he can. He'll start
with the carbuncle clue and end with the assassin.
But who the deuce can he be ? I say this Mi-. Conway."
A great many people, arguing the case on the same
grounds, said the same thing; but Rixton was of the
contrary opinion. He knew Gerald Conway too well
to think him capable of so dastardly a crime; das-
tardly in the extreme, as the victim, having been
stabbed in the back, must have been taken unawares.
It was also impossible that Doolan should be guilty,
seeing that he remained in the chambers to run the
risk of being arrested red-handed. Yet these two men
alone had access to the rooms, and alone could have
admitted the third. Rixton owned himself puzzled
by this feature of the case, yet he held firmly to the
innocence of Conway and his servant. As to the
identity of the guilty person, he could not even form
an opinion.
"I must find out the name of the dead man," thought


20 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
Rixton, as he walked to "Westminster; "learn his
past career, and discover if it was to anybody's in-
terest that he should be removed. I may then find
out why he came to Conway's chambers, and who was
with him during the visit. Firstly, I shall examine
the room; secondly, interview Conway in Hclloway
Goal; then I shall be in a better position to form a
theory."
He was not sanguine of the result as he turned into
Garry Street, and found himself at Conway's
chambers.
On entering the general hall of the house, Rixton
found his further progress barred by an excited female,
armed with a dustpan and a feather brush. An
apron was pinned round her grey hair, another kept
clean her dress of brown wincey, and over her ample
shoulders she had draped a small shawl of Rob Roy
tartan. This stout but not uncomely person was Mrs.
Phorney, who looked after the chambers, and who had
her dwelling in the basement, whence she had that
moment emerged with a view to clean out and tidy
up the ground-floor rooms. An odour of gin per-
meated the atmosphere as she advanced, showing that
the late catastrophe had demanded frequent appli-
cations to Geneva.
"No, sir," said Mrs. Phorney, blocking the stairs,
"you don't go up to get goose-flesh by looking at them
rooms if I can help it. There's a chamber of 'orrors
at Madame Toosod's if you wants your 'air to rise
and your flesh to creep; but I beg as you won't go
lowering the rents 'ere by putting gashley things in
the noospapers."


WHAT MRS. PHORNEY EEARD. 21
"You don't recognise me, Mrs. Phorney?"
The woman bent forward, and then sat down on
the lowest step of the stairs, where she flung her apron
over her head, and rocked herself to and fro.
"I'm that upset, Mr. Pistons, as I never knowed
you," she moaned, from behind the apron. "Excuse
me sitting, sir, but my blessed nerves are packthreads
at this minute. Ah! well, I knew what was coming,
for last week, when after a supper of sheep's trotters,
I dreamed of snakeses; for snakeccs," declared Mrs.
Phorney, "is blood and merders."
Rixton was too well acquainted with Mrs. Phorney's
eccentricities to object to her behaviour in the present
instance. Moreover, knowing her to be garrulous
and curious, he thought it possible that he might
extract from her some fact likely to throw light on
the mystery. To this end he pretended a friendly
anxiety to learn the details, and refreshed Mrs. Phor-
ney's memory with the fee of half-a-crown; all this
purely as a sympathizing acquaintance.
"Thank you, sir," said the lady, rising to accept
the gift. "It ain't the first as I've had from you,
or from 'im, sir—pore, dear, young innocent as is now
in a dunging a-clanking of 'is fetters."
"Then you think that Mr. Conway is innocent?"
"As an unborn hinfant, Mr. Rixtons. I 'eared the
Habbey chimes, and then him a-climbing the stairs
arter twelve."
"Oh, you did! Were you up at that time?"
"No, sir, I were in bed, and 'ad bin since ten; but
I was wakeful with a bad cold as tickled my throat,
and prevented sleepin'. Oh, I 'eard 'im."


22
THE CAltBUNCLE CLUE.
"How do you know it was Mr. Conway?"
"I 'eard his step on these stoneses, sir," said Mrs.
Phorney, tapping the pavement of the hall. "I knows
all their steps, Mr. Fdxtons. The ground-floor's a
'evy gent as walks like a' earthquake: the first-
floorer being gouty tap-taps with 'is stick: but Mr.
Conway's a light-'earted gent as runs up the stairs
like a young 'un of eighteen. The third-floorer"
"Never mind the third floor," said Rixton, inter-
rupting the flow of Mrs. Phorney's speech. "You
are sure that Mr. Conway came in at midnight?"
"With a 'op an' a skip an' a jump, Mr. Eixtons."
"Did you hear anyone else come in?"
Mrs. Phorney looked queerly at Rixton, and bit
the top of her feather duster. "Well, I did 'ear a
a strange step, sir—I 'eard two of 'em," she said,
gravely.
"Indeed! At what time?"
"Both between eleving an' twelve, Mr. Eixtons."
"Didn't it occur to you to go upstairs and see who
these strangers were?"
"Why, no, it didn't," said Mrs. Phorney, rubbing
her nose; "both Mr. Conway an' the second-floorer
'ave people to see 'em. It wasn't none of my business
to be pokin' and pryin', let alone a wish not to make
my cold wuss. From a warm bed to a cold passige,
Mr. Rixtons," concluded Mrs. Phorney, shaking her
head, "you wouldn't do it yourself, sir."
"If you were in bed, how could you distinguish the
steps?"
"My room's imejetly under the 'all door, sir: I
can 'ear the oiler ekering of anyone who comes in."


WHAT MBS. PHOBNEY UEABD. 23
""You thought, then, that some of the tenants had
brought in friends?"
"I did, sir; an' why not ?—youth is youth, 'owever
you puts it. No one could 'are got in without keyses;
and the four gentlemen who live 'ere 'ave a key earh."
"A. key for the street door, and one for their
cham.hers, I suppose?"
"No, Mr. Kixtons, it's a Yale lock on that street
door, sir, and the key as opens it opens the rooms
of each; hut," added Mrs. Phorney, with emphasis,
"though the keyses fits the front door, all keyses don't
fit all locks in the 'ouse. Only Mr. Conway could
get into 'is rooms!"
"I know the Yale key," said Rixton, taking note of
this information; "by the way, were the other tenants
in on that night?"
"Only Mr. Madrazo, sir! the foreign gent as lives
on the third floor. The ground is a MP., and was
at the 'Ouse; the first-floorer were visitin' 'is aunt in
Briting, an' the second-floorer is, as you know, sir,
pore dear Mr. Conway."
"Did Mr. Madrazo hear anything?"
"No, sir! 'E told the perlice as he didn't."
"Did you hear anything, Mrs. Phorney?" asked
Rixton, looking sharply at her. "A scream, a
struggle"
"Not a scream, not a struggle," protested Mrs.
Phorney. I should 'ave bin out 'anging on to the
nearest perliceman if I'd 'eard the merdering. But,
lor bless you, Mr. Rixtons, my ears ain't mikerscopes.
I can 'ear who comes in imejetly above my 'ead, but
I can't 'ear up to the second floor."


THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"What does Doolan say?"
"Mr. Doolan went to bed at ten and 'eard nothing.
You know as 'e's deaf, Mr. Rixtons; a post ain't
deafer."
It certainly was odd that a murder should have
taken place without anyone in the house hearing
aught of a struggle. Doolan on the same floor,
Madrazo on the floor above, both denied having heard
the slightest noise. Rixton had been assured of this
by the police, bat he was ill-satisfied with both denials,
and he resolved to interview the servant and the third-
floor tenant on his own account.
"Is Mr. Madrazo in now?" he asked Mrs. Phorney.
"Well, he might and he mightn't be, sir," said Mrs.
Phorney, ambiguously; "I wouldn't swear to it. He's
a pleasant gent, though darkish an' messy in his 'abit
of throwing his clothes about."
"About these steps you heard," said Rixton, re-
verting to the subject. "Can you describe them?"
"One was 'ard and sharp and firm-like," said Mrs.
Phorney, promptly; "a man's step it was, the
other ," here she hesitated.
"Yv'ell!" said Rixton, sharply.
"I wouldn't tell it to the perlice," sighed Mrs.
Phorney, hurriedly; "but I'll tell you, sir, as you ain't
the perlice."
"Tell me what?" demanded Rixton, appreciating
the irony of the situation.
"About the other step, sir. It was a woman."
"A woman?"
"As sure as I am of the sex, sir—it was the light
step of a wcman."


20 THE CAliBUNCLE CLUE.
travel from desk to bookcases, thence to the paper-rack
by the mantelpiece; finally to the many photographs
in silver frames; standing before the oval mirror. One
of these photographs, representing a charming and
pretty girl, he examined with great attention.
"Toor Lena Darrel," he murmured, admiring the
beautiful face; "I daresay she is broken-hearted by
the arrest of her lover."
Further soliloquy on this subject was forbidden, as
Doolan entered the room while Rixton was replacing
the picture on the mantelshelf. The servant was a
young man of medium height, with red hair, blue
eyes, and a shrewd, good-natured face of a peculiarly
Irish cast. He was clean-shaven, with his ruddy
locks cut short and carefully sleeked down, and dressed
in a suit of black with a blue livery waistcoat; he
stood before Rixton with folded hands. With his
head a little on one side to catch the slightest sound,
a habit induced by his deafness, he looked the picture
of a well-trained servant, quiet and deferential. There
was something peculiarly likeable about the man, and
Rixton knew how highly he was valued by his young
master.
"This is a sad business, Doolan," said Rixton,
noting the red eyes and haggard looks of the man.
"Very sad, sir."
"I have called here," pursued Rixton, artfully,
"merely as a friend, to see if I can be of any service to
Mr. Conway."
"Thank you, sir. Have you seen my master, sir?"
"Why, no; not yet, Doolan; but it is my intention
to call at Holloway shortly; I wish to help Mr. Con-


28 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"Yes, sir; the gentleman who died at Lima, to
■whose property he succeeded. I was servant to Mr.
Bennett, and before he died he gave me a letter to
his cousin. I delivered it to Mr. Conway, who took
me into his service. I have been with him for four
years, and a kinder gentleman never breathed."
"Humph!" said Rixton, looking doubtingly at
him. "Your hearing is remarkably good to-day,
Doolan."
"It is, sir; in fine weather my hearing is always
better. And you speak very clearly, sir. As a
schoolmaster, and a deaf man, I appreciate clear
speech."
"Were you a schoolmaster?"
"In the States, sir, before I went to Lima. I was
nnfortunate, sir, and sank in the world."
"Humph!" said Rixton again, letting his eyes
thoughtfully wander over the man's face; "that
accounts for your excellent speech; but let me hear
what you know of this matter," he added, as Doolan
bowed for this compliment; "there is no time to bo
lost."
"I know very little, sir. I retired to bed at ten
o'clock, as my master gave me permission to do so,
and I was only roused by the bell over my head. I
came in here and found Mr. Conway standing yonder
looking at the dead body on the floor."
"Did Mr. Conway say that he knew the man?"
"No, sir; he never set eyes on him before."
"And you?"
"Nor I, sir; the dead man had never visited Mr.
Conway, to my knowledge,"


BOOLAITS STATEMENT.
"At what hour did Mr. Conway leave the house?"
"At seven o'clock, sir. I called a cab for him."
"He was due at the theatre, I believe?"
"At the Curtain Theatre, sir."
"The performance at that theatre does not begin
till half-past eight. Why did your master leave here
so early?"
"I fancy, sir, that he went first to his club. He
received a letter by the six o'clock post, and men-
tioned to me that it was an appointment he would
have to keep before going to the theatre."
"Was he agitated?"
"Yery much so, when he received that letter."
"Did you see the letter?"
"No, sir; I did not."
"Did Mr. Conway make any remark other than the
one about this appointment?"
Doolan hesitated, and looked down as if considering
his answer.
"I may as well admit, sir, that Mr. Conway made
a very strange remark."
"What was that?"
"He asked me if I was certain that Mr. Bennett had
died in Lima."
"Humph. Was that question suggested by the
letter?"
"I think so, sir; of course, I told him that I saw
Mr. Bennett die."
"Oh, you saw him die?" repeated Rixton, with a
sharp glance.
"Yes, sir," said Doolan, meeting that inquiring
look without flinching; "I was Mr. Bennett's ser-


30
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
vant, and he died of fever at Lima four years ago.
Before he died, sir, he gave me a letter to his cousin,
Mr. Conway, and that is how I came to be in Mr.
Conway's service."
Rixton thoughtfully tapped his leg with the light
cane he carried, and reflected on the foregoing
observations. He was aware that Conway inherited
the Barnleigh estate through the death of his cousin,
Horace Bennett, so he could not but connect that
strange question with a doubt on the part of Conway
that his cousin had died. Evidently the letter
making the appointment at the club had to do with
Bennett and his death at Lima, hence the inquiry so
pointedly addressed to Doolan. But all this threw
no light on the mystery of the murder, unless——.
Rixton resolved to abandon this point until he could
question Conway himself. At present he could see
nothing to link the appointment at the club with the
violent death in the Garry Street rooms.
In respectful silence Doolan waited further ques-
tioning, and after a few minutes' cogitation, Rixton
resumed the conversation in another strain.
"Have you a key of these chambers, Doolan?"
"No, sir; my master has a dislike to anyono
having a key but himself."
"Do you not find that rather awkward?"
"Why, no, Mr. llixton. I do not go out very
often, and my master is usually indoors writing."
"Yes, I know that he is devoted to literary pur-
suits."
"Well, sir," resumed Doolan, quietly, "if my
master is out and I find the door closed on my return,


VOOLAN'S STATEMENT.
I wait dov.-nstr.irs with Mrs. Thorney till lie comes
back. Mr. Conway is a strange gentleman in some
wavs, sir," added the man, pointedly, "this is one of
them."
"Then nobody could have entered here unless ad-
mitted by Mr. Conway?"
"No, sir; I don't see how they could."
"Did your hear anything on that night?"
"No, sir; I was in bed and asleep. I heard nothing
till roused by Mr. Conway's bell, and then I saw the
dead man."
"You did not know him?"
"No, sir."
"Mr. Conway did not know him?"
"No, sir."
"Did your master expect a lady to supper after
the theatre."
"I don't think so, Mr. Rixton; I received no orders
to lay out supper. Miss Darrel and her father have
sometimes been here to supper, but no one else."
"They were not expected on that especial night?"
"Not to my knowledge, sir."
Rixton shrugged his shoulders, and finding the
conversation unsatisfactory, he rose -from his seat and
threw himself into the chair before the desk—the
chair in which the dead man had sat. Idly he took up
a pen, and put it to his lips in a mediative manner.
Suddenly his face lighted up, and he placed the pen
to his nostrils; then, bending down, he nosed the
blotting-pad.
"Does your master use any special kind of scent?"
he asked, sharply.


32
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"No, sir," replied Doolan, very much astonished.
"He uses no scent at all; in fact, sir, he dislikes all
perfumes."
The most powerful of all aids to memory is the
sense of smell. Sardou knew this, and used it in
"Dora " for the purpose of unmasking the adventuress
Zicka. Rixton thought of that scene the moment he
smelt the faint odour which clung to pen and blotting-
pad. At one bound his memory ran back to the last
occasion when he had breathed the perfume. A
fashionable "At Home," a chattering crowd, a
secluded corner, a woman, and—-that odour.
"Good heavens!" he muttered, rising to his feet;
"what was she doing here on that night?"
Who the "she" was he did not explain.


CHAPTER IV.
THE MAN FROM LIMA.
Shortly after the discovery—and it was one which
astonished him not a little—Rixton left Conway's
chambers, and paused on the stairs to consider his
next move. He greatly desired to call on Madrazo
to ascertain if he had heard any suspicious noise on
the night of the murder; hut he hardly knew how to
introduce himself to this foreign individual. It
would be necessary to make some excuse for calling,
and in his character of detective, Rixton would have
had a sufficient pretext for doing so; but to appear
simply as a sympathising friend, looked like forcing
his acquaintance on the man. While in this
dilemma, Fate settled the matter off-hand.
Madrazo descended the stairs, and, seeing Rixton
on the landing, before the door of Conway's chambers,
he took off his hat with the natural courtesy of a
foreigner. He was a tall, sallow man, with a thin,
black moustache and a pair of piercing black eyes.
Carefully and quietly dressed, he looked a gentleman
in easy circumstances, but there was the indefinite


34
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
air about him which, to Itixton's experienced eye,
suggested the scamp and adventurer.
"Can I give my service to you, sir?" he asked,
taking a comprehensive view of Rixton. "I am
afraid you will not be able to enter the rooms of Mr.
Conway. You heard of the murder?"
"Yes, I am a friend of Mr. Conway's," replied
Rixton, seizing the opportunity, "and I came to see
him if I could."
"Alas! sir, he is in the prison, and the police are
with him."
"Ah!" said Rixton, feigning ignorance, "in that
case I may as well postpone my visit. But I am
anxious to know about the crime, and perhaps, as you
live here, sir, you may be able to tell me something."
Madrazo flashed an interrogative look on Rixton,
but seeing nothing likely to cause distrust, he re-
placed his hat with a shrug, and spread out his hands
with feigned regret. The racial difference between
the two men was emphasized by that gesture.
"I know nothing—nothing. I was in bed and
asleep. The police asked—oh, yes, they have asked;
but what? I know nothing. Truly, sir, this is a
mystery. You are a friend of Mr. Conway's?"
asked Madrazo, as they turned and descended the
stairs by mutual consent.
"Yes, my name is Rixton; here is my card—
Octavius Rixton."
"Manuel Madrazo, at your service, sir," said the
Spaniard, returning the compliment. "My card,
sir. All I have is to you, Mr. Rixton."
"You come from Spain, Senor Madrazo?"


THE MAN FEOM LIMA.
35
"No, sir; I come from Peru—from Lima. Yes.
Three months."
It required the exercise of all Rixton's self-control
to suppress the start caused by this unexpected re-
mark. The situation was becoming complicated.
Horace Bennett had died in Lima; Patrick Doolan
had come from Lima; and now there appeared a third
man who claimed to be a native of the same place.
"You are, then, a native of Lima—a Peruvian?"
said he, in answer to Madrazo's remark. "I must
compliment you on your English."
"Eh, sir, it is very simple. I meet English in
Mexico and the States. I was born in Lima, but I
did not live all my life there—no! May I ask
which way you go, sir? Pardon, but I like to learn."
"Along the Embankment," replied Rixton, think-
ing that thoroughfare the best for a quiet conversa-
tion. "Am I taking you out of your way?"
"My way is anywhere," said Madrazo, suavely.
"I am an idle man, Mr. Rixton. In London I stay
for a holiday, but I return to Lima to work. Oh.
yes—my occupation; I am an officer, sir, in the army
of Peru."
"Have you been long in England, Senor
Madrazo?""
"Three months, sir—yes, to-day. I have the
pleasure to see Mr. Rixton before."
"Indeed!" Rixton was slightly alarmed, thinking
of his dual life; but the reply of Madrazo reassured
him.
"It is so, sir. At Mrs. Brynmaur's. Ah, yes! a
lady so charming!"


30
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Taken in conjunction with what Rixton had dis-
covered at Ccnway's rooms, the remark struck him as
suggestive; but he answered as though it were the
most natural thing in the world that Madrazo should
mention that particular name.
"Yes, I know Mrs. Brynmaur. She is a country-
woman of yours, I believe?"
"A Mexican, senor—a beautiful Mexican. Eh,
yes, she has been so kind, oh, so kind. I knew
nobody when I came to London. I met all at Mrs.
Brynmaur's—yes, all—even you, sir."
"Thank you," said Rixton, gravely. "But to come
back to the subject of this murder—do you think
that Mr. Conway is guilty?"
"Eh? How should I know, sir? It would seem
so. I know Mr. Conway. I like Mr. Conway; but
this dead man, I know nothing of it."
"You were in your rooms before eleven, I believe?"
"Yes, I was in from ten-and-a-half, Mr. Rixton,
but I hear nothing. Yet my ears are keen. From
talk, I hear" pursued Madrazo, confidentially, "this
man stabbed in the back. You see, he taken by
surprise—no time to call out, no struggle: death at
once. That is so. I hear nothing."
"Did you see the dead man?"
"No, sir. I hear all the crime. I see nothing."
The man was evidently in earnest, yet Rixton
found it hard to shake off the suspicions he enter-
tained. He had no ground for such suspicions, save
the looks of the Peruvian, yet he clung to the idea
that this apparently ignorant tenant of the third floor
knew more than he chose to tell, That remark


THE MAN FROM LIMA.
37
about Mrs. Brynmaur added strength to his doubts,
and opened a vista before him of which he could by
no means see the end. Nor did the subsequent con-
versation tend to remove these doubts, for it appeared
that Madrazo was more conversant with past matters,
implicating Doolan, than Rixton had any idea of.
"I suppose you became acquainted with Mr.
Conway by living in the same house?" said Rixton,
with studied carelessness.
"Oh, no, sir," answered Madrazo, with a smile.
"It is true I met him so, but I know all of him from
my friend, Mr. Bennett."
"What! Did you know Horace Bennett in
Lima?"
"Why, yes, sir. He a great friend of mine. Yes!
He die of yellow fever there four years ago. Oh, so
nice a young man. What pity, sir, what pity."
"Do you know Doolan?"
"Yes, yes; he servant to Bennett—now servant
to Conway; an excellent, assuredly, sir, an excellent."
"Are j ou sure that Bennett is dead, Mr. Madrazo?"
"I have no doubt," said Madrazo, promptly; "he
die at Cuzco; yellow fever and aguardiente."
"Aguardiente?"
"What you call brandy; oh, yes, sir. He drink—
drink—drink, and so die—yes."
Rixton was not surprised to hear this. He had
never met Mr. Horace Bennett, but he knew quite
enough about him, thro\igh Conway, to be certain
that he was a scamp of the worst type; a fit com-
panion for the picturesque blackguard who lounged
by his side,


TEE MAN FBOM LIMA. 30
buried. Then Doolan came to this place. A sad
story, sir. Oh, I know all—yes."
To Bixton's mind, matters now began to assume an
ugly look, and he became convinced that the murder
in Garry Street had to do with some episode in Lima,
or perchance at Cuzco. Supposing that Bennett were
not dead—and this did not seem improbable, ns no
one had seen his corpse—and had sent to England to
claim the estates which Conway wrongfully enjoyed;
in such a case, Conway, on the eve of marriage with
Lena Darrel, would naturally hesitate to surrender
an income, and thereby lose his chance of marrying
the woman he loved. If the unknown man who had
been so foully murdered were an emissary from
Bennett, it might be that Conway had struck him
down in the first revulsion of rage. But no—Rixton
could not bring himself to believe that his friend was
guilty of so dastardly a deed. He might have gone
far in such circumstance, but he would have hesitated
at committing a crime which would put him from
Lena far more surely than the loss of any fortune. And
after all, as Rixton thought with relief, this was all
supposition; the dead man might not have come from
Lima. Bennett and his wife might be buried really
at Cuzco, and so all suspicions against Conway would
be removed at once. But
"Do you attend the inquest?" he asked Madrazo,
as they passed by Cleopatra's Needle.
"Why, yes; for curiosity—nothing else."
"Have you any suspicions?"
"None. I know not Conway well enough to
stispect. He may be guilty, he may not be. I know


40 THE CARBUNClE CLUE.
nothing; but here, sir, I must leave. "We meet
again—j'es."
"No doubt," replied Rixton, drily, well knowing
that the future meeting hinted at pigeon-plucking at
cards; "I shall call at your rooms some day. But
one word. Have you any idea who this unknown man
can be?"
"No; I not seen him. What like, eh?"
"Clean shaven—blue eyes—dark hair—aquiline
nose."
Madrazo shook his head, smilingly, and denied all
knowledge of the deceased.
"On his left wrist he wore a gold bangle, set with
an engraved carbuncle."
The Peruvian ceased to smile, and stared at Itixton
with parted lips, a look of dread in his eyes. "No
I know not—yes—good-bye, sir—we meet again,"
and the next moment he was gone, leaving Itixton to
meditate on the incoherence of his speech, so different
from his former glibness.
"Halloa!" thought the detective, "Madrazo is
confused by the question. I wouldn't be surprised if
the whole affair hinged on that carbuncle bangle."


CHAPTER V.
THE ACCUSED.
It can be seen from the foregoing, that Rixton had
gained a great deal of what seemed to be, useless infor-
mation. At first sight it did not appear that the
doings and death of Bennett, in distant Peru, could'
have anything in common with the Garry Street
murder. Yet, after considerable cogitation, Rixton
came to the conclusion that in some way—he could not
determine how—there was a connection between them.
The presence in the house, of Doolan and Madrazo,
both from Lima, hinted at that connection, and for all
he knew, one of the two might prove to be guilty.
But a murder, as a rule, presupposes a motive. What
was the motive that induced this crime? That might
be discovered when the identity of the deceased was
established.
Consider the difficulty of doing so! Here was a man
arrayed in evening dress—which after six p.m. is
common to hundreds of men—found dead in a set of
chambers. The owner of the chambers denies having
committed the crime; denies all knowledge of the
F


42
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
man. The victim slips into these rooms out of the
darkness of the night and after a brief interval passes
into the darkness of the grave. What he was doing in
those rooms; who led him, and admitted him into,
those rooms; what was his name, his occupation, his
past? these were questions which Rixton asked
himself, and to which he failed to gain any reply.
The sole chance of discovering the identity of the
deceased lay in the fact that probably he drove to
Garry Street in a cab. Thereupon Rixton instructed.
Crate to make inquiries to this effect: and hoped by
learning where the cab was engaged that some know-
ledge might be arrived at likely to identify the fare;
when the name was known, the past of its bearer might
indicate a motive for the crime! Would that motive
be found at Lima? Rixton could only surmise that it
might be so; for his present knowledge was too in-
definite to settle so difficult a question. "So far as
regards the murder," argued Rixton, "I am as un-
decided as ever I was, for the facts supplied by Doolan
and Madrazo do not seem to explain the matter. Mrs.
Phorny gave me better information; she declared that
a woman passed up those stairs; I declare that a
wcman sat before that desk. Query? Did the woman
kill the man? I may find that out by forcing Conway'
to speak more freely to me than he did to the police." >
With this determination Rixton betook himself to
Holloway Gaol, and had no difficulty in gaining ad-
mission into the cell of the accused. To the officials
he was a detective entitled to admittance; to the so-
called criminal, he was a true friend who came to see,
and stand by him in his trouble..
i


THE ACCUSED.
43
"Rixton!" said Conway, coming forward with out-
stretched hands. "This is kind—this is very kind."
He gripped his friend's hand heartily, and was no-
able to proceed, owing to a very natural emotion.
When a man is accused of a terrible crime, and a friend
suddenly appears with proffered help, with belief
written on his face, it is surely natural that the unfor-
tunate should welcome so staunch an ally as an angel
from Heaven. This is what Conway did, and he
turned away, so that Rixton should not see the emotion
depicted on his face. In time he recovered his nerve,
and they sat down on the narrow bed, to talk the
matter over.
Conway was a handsome young fellow with fair hair,
and usually a very bright expression on his counte-
nance; but at this moment he looked worn and ill; it
was no wonder, considering the terrible position in
which he found himself. Suddenly cut off from wealth
and friendship, and love; plunged into an abyss
whence he hardly expected to emerge; exposed to the
horror of all London; talked about, execrated, pitied
—it was a shock sufficient to unhinge his mind. Per-
haps it would have done so had not his brain been an
unusually strong one; and, moreover, he was sus-
tained by the consciousness of his own innocence, and
the visit of his friend. He actually began to hope,
for the first time since his arrest.
"What good angel sent you here, Rixton?" he
asked, when they were seated. "Was it Lena ?:'
"Why, no !" replied Rixton, mindful that he had
a confession to make, "I came of my own accord. I
read about this murder in the papers, and after a visit


THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
to your rooms, and a conversation with Doolan, I came
on here to tell you that I believe in your innocence, and
that I will do my best to save you."
"And by so doing you prove yourself to be a
true friend. But what can you do, Rixton—an inex-
perienced man against the law? I know these
detectives—they can build up a case out of nothing,
and I may be convicted on purely circumstantial
evidence. That man, whom I never saw before, was
found dead in my rooms; I alone have the keys of my
rooms; who will believe in the face of these facts that
I am innocent? I can't prove anything—you will be
unable to do anything. I am not guilty, Eixton, but
I am doomed. You cannot help me."
"That remains to be seen," said Rixton, cheerfully;
"I am more powerful than you think. I have a con-
fession to make. My real name is Rixton, and nvv
feigned occupation is that of an idler; my feigned
name is Fanks, and my real occupation is that
of a detective. Now do you see how I can help
you?"
Conway was so taken aback by this unexpected
intelligence, that he could only stare at Rixton, who
thereupon explained himself at some length in am
apologetic tone.
"I don't wonder that you are astonished," he said,
in a low voice; "it is not a pleasant thing to find one's
friend engaged in what is usually looked upon as an
ignoble profession. But it is a profession for which I
have the greatest admiration, demanding, as it does,-
patience, intelligence, observation, and ceaseless
vigilance. I am praising myself by implication, but


TEE ACCUSED.
45
if you only knew how attached I am to my work you
would excuse my apparent vanity."
"You a detective? Yon, Tanks?"
"Yes! No doubt you have Heard of me in con-
nection with- tlie case of Monsieur Judas, and that of
the Chinese Jar. To you, and to all my friends, I am
simply Rixton the idler; but to Scotland Yard, and
the criminal fraternity of London, I am Fanks the
detective, and it is by elucidating criminal problems
that I earn money for my suppoi t in the "West-end."
"Do your relations know that you are thus
employed?"
"Of course they do, and very angry they were when
I took up, what they call, a degrading occupation.
However, I compromised matters by giving my
word to keep my connection with Fanks dark;
so you see, Conway, I am a more industrious man
than you believed me to be. If you have any dis-
like for my profession you must set that on one side,
on account of the assistance I am able to give you.
This Garry Street case is in my hands for investigation
and I have come here to set you free, and, if possible
to run down this mysterious assassin."
"Thank you! thank you! You have my esteem and
thanks Rixton. I place myself unreservedly in your
hands. But, one thing: you will be discovered if you
do this for me."
"By no means; to you and to your friends I am
simply Mr. Rixton, who has taken up the matter as an
amateur detective, and out of regard for you. I ex-
amined Doolan and Mrs. Phorney this morning, and
I got more out of them, as Rixton, than I should have


46
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
done as Fanks. So you see Conway," added he,
clapping his friend on the shoulders, " my resumption
of my real name has its advantages."
"It is very good of you to help me," faltered Conway,
slowly; "I am sure you will do your best to prove
that I am innocent and not guilty."
"If I thought you the latter I should not be here,"
retorted Rixton, drily. "I took the case out of the
hands of a brother-detective because I believed in your
innocence. I have no proof of it beyond the fact that
I have known you sufficiently long to be certain
that you are incapable of so foul and useless a
crime."
"Useless a crime," repeated Conway, at once startled
and puzzled.
"So far as I can see at present, the crime as been
committed to no purpose. I have my own theory on
the subject, but I don't intend to impart it to
anyone until I lay my hand on the shoulder of the
assassin"
"You know who he is?"
"I know who he or she is," replied Rixton, with
emphasis; "that is, I have my suspicions, but as yet
I am certain of nothing."
"She !" repeated Conway, taking no note of the end
of this speech; "you surely do not suspect a woman?"
"I do and I don't," responded the detective am-
biguously; "you can make what you like out of that."
"But, Rixton"
"Don't ask me further questions, Conway, as wo
have no time to lose. I must be told all you know.
No evasion, my friend; no exaggeration; you must


THE ACCUSED. 47
tell me the plain unvarnished truth. It is," added
Rixton, bending forward, " your only chance of saving
your neck."
"Rixton! Is it so had as that?"
"As you stand- now, it is."
Conway put his hand to his throat, as though ho
there felt a choking sensation. Not until that moment
did he fully realise the deadly peril in which he stood.
Now he was informed of the fact hy the very man wno
wished to save him. It was as though an abyss had
suddenly opened at his feet. He was appalled, crushed,
terrified, at being so suddenly confronted with the
blackness of the gallows. Strong man as he was, he
felt weak and womanish at the moment; then the
knowledge of his innocence, the thought of the woman
who loved him praying for his safety, braced him up
and sustained him. He raised his head proudly, and,
the light of courage flowed back into his eyes.
"Ask what you will, Hixton, and I shall tell you
the truth. I am in your hands; you alone can save
me from a terrible death."
"Good!" said Rixton, encouragingly, taking out
his note-book. "I am glad to see that you can face
the situation like a man. Now, then, I will ask you
certain questions; to these you must reply at length,
as the full knowledge of all that has taken place is
essential to my success. In the first place, the murder
was committed on Wednesday night?"
"Yes! At midnight on Wednesday."
"You left your rooms at seven o'clock ?."
"I did ! for the Curtain Theatre."
"You did not go there at that time."


48 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"No; I went first to the club; to the Athenian Club
in St. James's Street."
"What took you there?"
"I went to meet a man."
"Oh!" said Rixton, with a nod of satisfaction, " tlie
man who wrote you the letter."
"What! You know"
"I know that much from Doolan. Why did you
ask him if he was sure that your cousin, Horace
Bennett, was dead?"
"Because the writer of the leter asked me to see
him at the Athenian Club, to tell me something about
my cousin."
"You met this man at the club?"
"I did; at half-past seven o'clock."
"Who was he?"
"The man who wrote this letter," said Conway,
drawing a letter from his pocket and handing it to
Rixton.
"And who is the man who wrote you this letter, and
met you?"
"My cousin—Horace Bennett I"


50
T1IE CAliBUNCLE CLUE.
better hold my tongue. That Peruvian scamp seems
to have told you everything."
"He told me that Mr. and Mrs. Bennett went to
Cuzco, where they died; it seems they didn't. You
were astonished to see your cousin?"
"I was; very unpleasantly so; his appearance
means that I am reduced to a pauper once more, and
cannot marry Lena. I am glad for his sake that he
is alive; I am very sorry for my own."
"You did not know him very well, I think,
Conway?"
""We were almost strangers to cue another," replied
the young man, bitterly. "I have seen him twice in
my life. Once before he went to South America
eight years ago, and again last Wednesday night at
the Athenian Club."
"And his personal appearance?"
"Tall, sunburnt, with bushy black beard, and shab-
bily dressed in an old tweed suit. Personally I could
not have sworn that it was my cousin Horace; but he
gave me ample proof of his identity before we parted."
"How long were you together?"
"Half an hour."
"Half an hour!" repeated Paxton, again raising
his eyebrows, "but that was surely a very short time
in which to explain matters?"
"Horace had an appointment," explained Conway,
"where or with whom, I do not know, as he refused
to tell me. He related me his story as shortly as
possible, and he promised to meet me at the club next
day. As I was then under arrest I "nuld not keep my
appointment."


THE KEY OF TEE CHAMBER.
51
"Did you give him your Garry Street address?"
"No! I didn't desire him to come to my rooms,"
said Conway, bluntly; "I was by no means pleased
to see him, and I wished to get used to his ways be-,
fore welcoming him to my diggings. He left me
shortly before eight o'clock, and where he is now I
don't know."
"There's not much love lost between you, I see,"
said Rixton, drily.
"Horace was a scamp, and is a scamp," retorted
the other gloomily, "and I can't forgive him turning
up to spoil my life's happiness."
"Why did he let you enjoy the Barnleigh estates
for four years?"
"Because he could not help himself. It seems
that his wife was in love with some rich Englishman,
and wished to get rid of her husband so that she could
marry her lover. Ostensibly she took him to Cuzco
to get him cured by the mountain air; instead of that,
she had him carried off into the interior by some
Indians, and there he stayed for four years, until he
escaped two months ago and returned to England to
look me up, and get back his estates."
"What of his wife?" asked Rixton, after duly
digesting this information.
"She vanished from Cuzco—from Lima. But'
Horace believes that she is in England, married to
this Englishman, and he is now looking round for
her. It will be a pleasant meeting between them,"
concluded Conway, grimly.
"If they do ever meet," observed Rixton, ambigu-
ously. "But in your succession to the estates a


52
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
certificate of the then owner's death was pro-
duced?"
"It was forged by his wife! She wanted to make
herself secure."
"According to Madrazo, she died at Cuzco."
"I have no doubt of it," said Conway, ironically.
"She died as Mrs. Bennett, and came to life as Mrs.
Lechmere."
"Oh, that is the name of her lover, I suppose?"
"So Horace says. He'll make it hot for them both,
when he meets them." Here the conversation lan-
guished, as Conway relapsed into silence, and
Rixton made further notes in his book. After doing
so, he looked up cheerfully. "All this is very
interesting, Conway, but it does not settle your
business, or prove your innocence. When your
cousin left you at eight o'clock, you went to the
theatre?"
"Yes; to the Curtain Theatre, in the Strand."
"Alone?"
"No; I was with Cuthbert Morton."
"What time did you leave the theatre?"
"About eleven."
"Did you go straight home?"
"No! I went with Morton to the Trafalgar Hotel.
He had to see a friend, so I accompanied him."
"How long did you stay there?"
"Till half-past eleven. Afterwards Morton walked
with me as far as Westminster, as he had an appoint-
ment with his father, in the House."
"Tou did not take a cab then?"
"No! The night was fine, so we walked. Morton


THE KEY OF THE CHAMBEB.
63
left me at fire minutes to twelve and went into Palace
Yard. I waited to my rooms."
"At -what time did you. get there?"
"The .Abbey clock was striking twelve as I went up
the stairs."
""Was the street door locked?"
"Yes!"
"And the door of your rooms?"
"Yes!"
""Well!" said Rixton, bending forward, "and
what happened?"
"I entered into my chambers, and was astonished to
find the electric light burning both in the hall and the
library. The dining-room, which is between the two,
was in darkness. I passed through it, and pushed
open the library door. There I saw a man seated at
the desk, with his head resting on his arms."
"What did you do?"
"I asked him what he was doing there, and on
receiving no answer, I went forward and touched his
shoulder. Great heavens! Rixton," cried the young
man, with a burst of anguish, "if you only knew what
I felt when that dead body rolled on to the floor with
a dull noise. It was like a piece of wood falling."
"I can well imagine how startled you must have
been; no doubt the discovery paralyzed you for the
moment."
"As you may guess; I did not know what to do,
but I stood staring at the dead man like a fool."
"Did you recognise him?"
"Rixton," said Conway, in a solemn voice, "I
swear by all that I hold most sacred that I never set


51
THE CA11BUNCLE CLUE.
eyes on the man's face before. He was a complete
stranger to me."
"Humph! in that case, what was he doing at your
desk, in your library?"
"That is the mystery—there you have me," cried
Conway, striking his hands together with a despairing'
gesture. "I know no more of it than you do."
""Was the lock of your door tampered with?"
"I don't think so. It worked easily enough when
I opened the doer."
"It is a 'Yale' lock, I believe?"
"Yes, with a flat key some 3in. long. The key
opens the street door, and the door of my rooms."
"Will your key open the doors of any other
chambers in the house?"
"No; that is the peculiarity of the lock. Each
tenant possesses the one key, which opens the street
door and that of his own chambers. Not one of
them can enter the rooms of the other."
"That is very convenient," said Rixton, idly; "I
wish I had a Yale lock to my rooms; as it is, I have
to carry two heavy keys, which is most annoying. It
is a clever idea to make all the keys of the tenants
fit the street door, and then to limit the opening powera
of each key to its own special lock."
"Yes, and the odd part of it is that there seems to
be no difference between the keys. For instance, my
key and that of Madrazo are the same—to look at."
"Oh!" exclaimed Rixton, sitting up with an air
of lively interest, "so you compared keys with
Madrazo!"
"I did; he is a foreigner, you know, and he was


THE KEY OF THE CHAMBEB.
55
struck by this key business as you have been. In his
rooms, one day, I -was talking about it, and he begged
me to let Mm compare keys. I handed him mine,
and he toot it into his bedroom to compare it with his
own. He showed me the two together when he re-
turned, and I could Bee no difference."
"When did this take place, Conway?"
"Let me see," said the young man, thoughtfully,
"about a fortnight ago."
"H'rn! Have you the key now?"
"Without a word, Conway produced a silver chain
from the right-hand pocket of his trousers. Thereto
was suspended a bunch of keys, which Kixton carefully
examined. The Yale key, a dainty piece of brass-
work, was carefully scrutinized by the keen eyes of
the detective. Ajfter a time, he pryed into the ribs of
the key with a pin, much to the astonishment of
Conway.
""What are you doing?" asked the latter.
For answer, Eixton held up the pin, at the end of
which appeared a tiny ball of what seemed to bo
dirt. "Do you know what that is?" asked Rixton,
quietly.
"Oil and dust mixed, I suppose."
"No, it is wax."
"Wax?"
"Yes! An impression of this key has been taken,
and by this time another key similar in all respects is
in existence."
"But—but who has that key?" stammered Conway
greatly surprised.
"Ah. I it is difficult to say who has the key now;


CHAPTER VTL
THE FOLDED PAFEE.
Although liixton had by no means exhausted the
questions which he -wished to ask Conway, he left the
prison cell shortly after the remark about the
carbuncle bangle. The strain of the last few days
was beginning to tell on the prisoner, and his
answers became so incoherent, that Rixton foresaw
symptoms of a break-down, and so left him to recover
in solitude. Before leaving, he promised his friend
to return in a few days with the best news obtainable,
and also to bring with him Lena Darrel, if the
authorities would permit her visit. Conway charged
his friend with innumerable messages to the woman he
loved, and these Rixton resolved to deliver without
loss of time.
Yet it was not altogether on this account that the
detective desired to see Miss Darrel. ' There were one
or two questions which he desired to put to her—
questions which had an important bearing on his
theory of the case. A detective, less clever than
Rixton, would have settled that Madrazo was guilty


68 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
of the crime, both on account of the Peruvian's
confusion regarding the carbuncle bangle, and the
undeniable evidence that he had taken an impression
of Conway's key. "With a duplicate key, Madrazo
could have opened the door of the rooms; he could
have admitted, and killed, the victim; and afterwards
he could have retreated to his third floor, there to
pretend ignorance of all that had taken place.
Such a story was more than probable. A case could
have been framed against him from these circum-
stances, but Rixton desisted from doing so, and even
from considering him guilty, for two reasons: firstly,
he could not conjecture the motive which could have
induced Madrazo to kill a stranger in Conway's rooms;
secondly, he was satisfied, from the evidence of Mrs.
Phorney, and from the scent on the pen-handle and
writing-pad, that a woman had been present in the
library on that fatal night. The first reason might
be disposed of by the discovery of the dead man's
name, which would possibly reveal what connection
he had with Madrazo; but the second reason was more
difficult of explanation. To the presence of a woman,
and the episode of the carbuncle bangle, Rixton looked
for a solution of the mystery. He was at once right
and wrong, as the result will prove.
As has been before stated, odour is a powerful aid to
memory, and this especial scent suggested to Rixton
the name of a woman who particularly affected the
perfunie. As yet he could not see how the lady he
had in his mind could be connected with the Garry-
Street murder, or how she could have gained
admittance into the Garry Street rooms; but he was


TEE FOLDED PAPEB.
53
satisfied that in some way she had come into contact
with the dead man on that night. The scent proved
as much, for, as far as he knew, no one Wt this
special lady used this particular perfume. So far he
saw clearly ahead, but at this point he came to an
intangible -wall of darkness, through which his vision
could not pierce. Before he could deduce any theory
from the supposed connection, it would be necessary
to find out who and what was the dead man; where
he came from, why he had sought Garry Street;
ancT, In fact, it was imperative that the detective
should learn all particulars of the deceased in order
to arrive at some logical conclusion.
To do this Rixton decided to see Miss Darrel, who
knew the lady in question, but even before going
on this important mission he sought out Crate, with
a view to learning if the cab in which the deceased
drove to Garry Street had been discovered. To the
satisfaction of Bixton, he learned that Crate had been
entirely successful; the cabman had been found, and
after some persuasion had been induced to tell his
story. This was now repeated by the faithful Crate
to his anxious brother officer, and proved to be
extremely disappointing. Rixton found himself in
possession of no new facts, and was no further
enlightened than be had been before. Yet there were
further elements of mystery about the cabman's tale.
"It seems that this cabman--Jenkins is his name—
picked up his fare in Benedict Square, about a quarter
to eleven or thereabouts," exclaimed Crate, referring
to his notes. "He was driving into Piccadilly, when
the gentleman hailed him."


TO THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"How was the gentleman dressed?"
"In evening dress, with an opera crush hat and a
light Inverness cape," said Crate. "Oh, there's no
doubt it's the same man. I took Jenkins to look at
the body, and he identified it at once as his fare
that Wednesday night."
"Well, go on, Crate; Jenkins picked him up in
Benedict Square?"
"Yes, and the gentleman told him to follow the
other cab."
"What other cab?" asked Bixton, impatiently.
"You haven't the art of telling a story."
"AVait a bit," said the imperturbable Crate. "A
cab with a lady drove off from the house on the west
eide of the square."
"And the number of the house?"
"I can't find that cut, Mr. Fanks"
"Rixton! Oh, you can't find it out. Infernally
vexing. I'd give a good deal to know the number
of the house."
"The cabman admitted that he was a bit on,"
said Crate apologetically, "and couldn't quite
recollect the position of the first cab, except that it
was on the west side of the sqviare."
"The west side of the square," reflected Rixton,
rubbing his hands. "Go cn, Crate; I begin to see
daylight."
"He followed the cab containing the lady,
according to directions. It drove down Piccadilly
and St. James's Street, along Pall Mall, through
Trafalgar Square"
"Went down Whitehall to Westminster and stopped


THE FOLDED PAFEIt.
CI
at the end of Garry Street," finished Rixton. "I
expected as much. The lady got out at Garry
Street?"
"Yes, and admitted herself into one of the houses."
"Humph! I can guess what house she entered.
Did this unknown man follow?"
"Ah! that I can't say. He dismissed Jenkins and
walked up Garry Street."
"Did the other cab wait?"
"I don't know. Jenkins drove off."
"We must find that other cab," said Rixton, with a
nod. "Here! hand me that Directory a minute, Crate."
The detective did so, and Rixton turned over the
leaves till he came to Benedict Square. "The west
side," said he musingly. "Lord Brawley, John
Manders—Oh, here we are! No. 28, Mrs. Brynmaur.
Ah! thank you Crate, that will do. Find the cabman
who drove the lady from No. 28."
"How do you know that it's No. 28?" asked
Crate, with great curiosity.
"That," said Rixton, with a short laugh, "is a
point on which I do not mean to enlighten you."
"So there's a woman in it," asked Crate, rather
disconsolate.
"There are two women in it, Crate."
"By Jove! you don't say so. How did you find
that out, sir?"
"There's a play being performed at the Garrick
Theatre called 'Diplomacy,'" said Rixton, with
apparent irrelevance; "if you pay great attention to
the fourth act, you will see that I have taken a hint
from Sardou."


62 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
Crate did take a seat in the Grarrick pit to witness
the play in question, and came away more mystified
than ever. He could see no connection between the
fourth act of "Diplomacy" and the two women
concerned in the Garry Street murder. Clearly,
Crate was lacking in brains, but he had an immense
respect for those contained in the cranium cf his
friend, Rixton.
"I thought Mrs. Brynmaur would come into the
matter," considered Rixton, as he left his Duke Street
rooms for Kensington. "Now, what the deuce is she
doing in this galley? Time alone will show that; —
or a knowledge of this man's name. Hang it, I have
not found that out yet; he didn't live in Benedict
Square. Now, I wonder if Mr. Horace Bennett can
give me any information on the subject."
He pulled owt the letter given to him by Conway,
in which the prodigal cousin had made that appoint-
ment at the Athenian Club. It merely intimated that
the writer wished to see Mr. Conway on matters relative
to his deceased cousin, Horace Bennett. No name
was signed to the few lines, but the right-hand corner
of the single sheet on which they were scribbled bore
the legend: "Slowman's Hotel, Beatrice Street."
"Good," muttered Rixton, restoring the precious
document to his pocket-book. "I shall call at
Slowman's Hotel to-morrow, and find out what Mr.
Bennett is doing. But I don't see much connection
between this and that, unless it is the Peruvian
business."
As a matter of fact, Rixton was more perplexed
than he ?hose to admit even to himself. He seemed


THE FOLDED PAPES.
63
to be pursuing two distinct lines, which appeared
to be entirely independent of one another, and leading
to results of a widely different nature. The first
line was the Garry Street murder, in which, by the
link of the cab, he had connected the unknown with
Mrs. Brynmanr, of 28, Benedict Square. The second
line had to do with the unexpected arrival of Horace
Bennett in England, the meeting at the Athenian
Club, and the stories of Madrazo and Doolan about the
prodigal's existence in Peru. Certainly, the one set
of facts had no bearing on the other; but the
discoveries were made so concurrently, that Rixton
thought he would see if Horace Bennett knew any-
thing of the tragedy, and so contrive to blend the two
in one. Candidly speaking, he had not much hope of
success.
Rixton left his chambers in Duke Street with the
intention of driving to Kerrymore Gardens, South
Kensington, where Miss Lena Darrel resided with
her philanthropic father. In his musings however,
he omitted to hail a cab, and having sauntered on,
wrapped up in his own thoughts, he found himself
in Piccadilly, at the entrance to Bruges Street, which
leads into Benedict Square. Forthwith he determined
to inspect No. 28. As Madrazo stated that he had
seen Rixton at Mrs. Brynmatir's, it may be urged that,
as a friend of that lady, the detective should have
recollected the number of her house without reference
to the Directory. Strictly speaking, Rixton remem-
bered the position of the mansion and the square in
which it was situate; but he had quite forgotten the
number until he looked it up. Now that he stood


THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
before the house he recognised it without difficulty,
and felt more convinced than ever that it was from
No. 28 that the cab containing the lady had started.
Thus meditating, he crossed the square to regain
Piccadilly by another street, when he saw Madrazo
come out of Mrs. Brynmaur's. This did not astonish
him, as he knew that the lady came from Mexico, and
that her fellow-countryman was in the habit of
visiting at her house. With the intention of
resuming the conversation which had so abruptly
terminated at the point touching the carbuncle
bangle, Rixton retraced his eteps, and briskly
followed in the wake of Madrazo. He touched him
on the shoulder half-way down Bruges Street, and
called him by name. The effect of touch and speech
on the Peruvian was miraculous; he wheeled round
with an oath, and his olive face changed to an
unpleasant green hue.
"Halloa!" thought Rixton, skilful at detecting
signs of guilt, "our friend here has a bad conscience.
Humph! he's done something, as the saying is, and
I shouldn't wonder if the something is connected with
the stolen impression of that key in wax."
By this time Madrazo had recovered his colour and
firmness, lamely endeavouring to explain the loss of
both by a palpable lie. "You make me alarmed,"
he said irritably; "a weak heart here. Bad, oh, yes;
very bad."
"I'll remember that next time," replied Rixton, as
they walked on side by side. "I saw you coming out
of Mrs. Brynmaur's, and caught you up."
"Oh, yes, I see her—she is sorry—oh, so sad about


THE FOLDED PAPER.
G3
Conway—your friend, Mr. Rixton—he often with
her, you know, sir."
"I have heard that much," said Rixton, drily;
and, indeed, it was common talk that the beautiful
widow was in love with Conway's handsome face.
"She great friend of mine, Rixton—yes, I meet her
in Lima."
"Lucky man, I envy you so charming a friend."
Madrazo laughed, being now quite at his ease,
thanks to the artful carelessness of Rixton. Had he
known the subtlety and true vocation of the idle
young man by his side, he might have made the first
excuse that came into his head, to rid himself of
such perilous company. In this case, ignorance was
less bliss than danger.
"And the news of my poor Conway?" he asked,
lightly.
"No news at all; he is keeping up his heart, and
hopes to prove the charge a false one."
"You help him, eh, Rixton?"
"In a bungling sort of way. I know nothing of
police matters."
"Aha, so much the better for you," replied
Madrazo, with scarcely veiled contempt; "but no
matter, we will talk of other things. What, you
asked, sir, of that carbuncle bracelet—eh, is it not
so?"
"I did," said Rixton, rather astonished tbat the
man should refer, of his own accord, to a subject
which hitherto he had seemed to shun. "What of
it?"


C i
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
friend of mine had a bracelet of that stone, Mr.
Eixton. Dios! he is now dead; and the memory of
him makes me tears."
"Oh! And what was the name of your friend?"
For answer, Madrazo produced a pencil, and
hurriedly scribbled something on the back of an old
envelope. This he folded up and gave to Rixton
with a bow.
"I cannot speak the name," he said, solemnly,
"it is painful—yes, very. Good-bye. I must not
speak again; you see, when I go."
He made another bow, and hurried off without
looking back, leaving Rixton stupefied with the
folded paper in his hand.


LENA DAEREL.
GO
resided in a comfortable house at Kerrymoro
Gardens, South Kensington. He was au elderly
-widower of sixty years of age, with one daughter,
whom he neglected for the sake of his philanthropic
schemes. Devoted to the public, greedy of its
applause, Mr. Darrel was as great a humbug as could
be found in the three kingdoms, and that is saying not
a little. Possessed of a moderate fortune, he was
always doing good—with other people's money; and
no one was so clever as he in extracting coin from
the pockets of wealthy folk. He formed funds for
the foundation of soup kitchens, he started collections
for the relief of starving people in Crim-Tartary—for
this good man's beneficence was not confined to his
own country, or, for the matter of that, to his own
pocket—he wrote letters to the papers in the interests
of decayed chimney-sweepers, and altogether he was an
officious busybody, with his finger in everybody's pie.
His enemies, and they were not a few, asserted that
he did more harm than good, for in place of forcing
people to work, and so appreciate what they gained >
he supplied them with money, food, and clothes,
thereby keeping them idle, unthrifty, and discon-
tented. The amount of harm done by indiscriminate
charity in London is enormous; but the charitable
are the last people to recognise this fact.
It may be remarked that Mr. Darrel never gave
away any money himself, and, according to his
enemies, he gathered any surplus funds into his own
pockets. But he gave his time, his eloquence, his
ideas, to the poor and lowly, thereby winning for
himself a wide renown as a philanthropist. His own


70
THE CA11BUNCLE CLUE.
home, his own daughter, were neglected for the
interests of the public, and Mr. Darrel, like a male
Mrs. Jellaby, went about meddling with- other
people's business, when he would have done better
to have minded his own. But in his case charity
did not begin at home, either in pocket, or work, or
scheming.
Lena Darrel had long ceased to expect anything
from so selfish a parent. She was a rather masculine
young woman, with a strong understanding, and had
been educated at Girton by a maternal uncle. On
her return to Kerrymore Gardens, Darrel had wished
to sacrifice her to the public in his usual fashion, but
Lena refused to be an Iphigenia. She devoted her-
self to journalism, and posed as a new woman; quite
scornful and independent of men, until she met with
Gerald Conway. Then the womanly side of her
nature, which had been dwarfed by her surroundings,
came out, and on becoming engaged to him she gave
up waving the banner of female emancipation. This
backsliding was greatly deplored by the advanced
sisterhood. But Lena was too delighted with her
newly-found happiness to heed their shrieking.
She still retained traces of her former indepen-
dence; that is, she retained her latch-key; she visited
entertainments by herself, and, setting at defiance
all conventional ideas, she not unfrequently called to
see Gerald in his rooms at Garry Street. He was not
averse to this, for his love showed him the sweet,
womanly nature hidden under the artificial exterior,
which latter was rapidly vanishing as the marriage


73
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
of Rixton, who honoured her for such feminine
■weakness. However, all the sisterhood knew that
Octavius Rixton was an idler, and a type of all that
was bad in his bad sex.
"While Lena was weeping, and Rixton looking at
her with great sympathy—for he judged it -wise that
she should be left to overcome her fit of hysteria—the
door opened, and Michael Darrel, large, bland, and
benevolent, entered the room.
A greater contrast than that which existed
between father and daughter can hardly be imagined.
The one had a large, round face, with a seraphic
expression, a mouth which constantly poured out
the oil of benevolent words on the human race, and
a demeanour which suggested that he was the father
of one and all. The other, a tall, slender girl, with
oval face and Roman brows; eyes that looked straight
at the person to whom she was addressing herself, and
a sharp, quick way of speaking, which showed lhat
she was prompt in making up her mind. The father
was skilful at tricks with words, the daughter scorned
to speak anything but the simple truth; and from
this it can be judged how diametrically opposite they
were in temperament. How such a father came to
have such a daughter is a mystery; but it may be that
Lena took after the late Mrs. Darrel.
"How do you do, Mr. Rixton?" said the philan-
thropist, giving his benevolent hand; "you find my
poor child afflicted—yes, grievously afflicted."
At the sound of her father's voice, Lena dried her
eyes, arose from the sofa on which she had flung her-
self, and, with a glance of defiance at her excellent


Lena dabbel.
73
parent, walked over to the window. In no wise
disturbed by this undaughterly conduct, Darrcl
continued his inquiries.
"I trust that the unhappy young man is prepared
to meet his end?" said Mr. Darrel.
"Oh, as to that, he Las not yet been found guilty,"
said Rixton, sharply. "It is an excellent maxim of
the English- law that a man is considered innocent
until proved guilty by the jury, Mr. Darrel."
"Let us hope that it will prove so in this
case," sighed the philanthropist; "but I have my
doubts—the evidence—I speak only from what I have
read in the papers—the evidence is strongly against
him."
"Nevertheless, I believe him to be innocent."
"Oh, thank you; thank you, Mr. Rixton," cried
Lena, coming forward hurriedly. "I also believe
in his innocence. "We will save him—we will work
together—we will set him free."
"If he gets free, I trust it will be a lesson to him,"
murmured Darrel, moving towards the door. "You
will excuse me, Mr. Rixton, but I have an
appointment at five, to preside at a meeting of
domestic servants, who wish to denounce the tyranny
of their mistresses. Should you see our unhappy,
though I hope innocent, friend, tell him that he has
my best wishes for a fair trial."
"Oh!" cried Lena, as the door closed after her
parent, "do you hear what he says? He has already
condemned my poor darling; he would hang hio.
without a hearing if he could."
"But, Miss Darrel, your father is"


74 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"I know what my father is—none better," she
retorted, bitterly. "Do not let us talk of him, Mr.
Rixton, or I shall forget the respect I owe him. I
wish to hear about Gerald. "What did he say?—tell
me again."
Rixton re-delivered the messages, to which she
listened with tearful eyes; when he ended, she covered
her face with her hands, and her handkerchief slipped
on to the floor. The young man picked it up, and
was about to restore it to her when a faint breath of
its perfume ascended to his nostrils. An expression
of astonishment overspread his face; he put the
handkerchief to his nose, and, certain that he was
not deceived, he looked at Miss Darrel with some
doubt. "When she removed her hands from her face,
he restored her handkerchief with a bow, and waited
for her to speak.
"We must save him! We must save him!" she
said, feverishly. "You will help me, Mr. Rixton?"
"I will do all I can to save him, but I fancy his fate
is in your hands."
"Why? What do you mean?" she asked, her
face paling.
"I mean that you must tell me all," said Rixton,
with marked significance.
"All what, Mr. Rixton? I don't understand what
you mean. What is it you wish me to tell you?"
"A very simple matter. I wish to know what you
were doing in Conway's rooms between eleven and
twelve last Wednesday night."
"Ah!" she sighed, clenching her hands. "You
know that? I am lost I"


CHAPTER IX.
THE OTHER WOMAN.
But for being in the presence of a lady, Rixton
would have forgotten his manners, and have given
vent to his surprise by whistling a tune as usual.
He was indeed puzzled as much by the drooping
attitude of the girl as hv the extraordinary words she
uttered. "Was it possible that she was in any way
responsible for the crime, indirectly of course, for no
weak female could ever have struck so savage and
deadly a blow. Rixton could not believe. this, and
rejected the thought as soon as it had entered his
mind. Still, her expression was one of fear, and her
words were ominous, so Rixton burned to know the
reason of such inexplicable conduct.
"You speak strangely and strongly, Miss Darrel,"
he said, quietly, as soon as he recovered breath.
""What do you mean by saying you are lost? If
you know anything of this murder
Here he paused with some confusion, for Lena was
looking indignantly at him, and interrupted him
sharply. Nay, more: she rose to emphasize her


76
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
anger. "What do you mean, Mr. Rixton?" she
demanded, using his own words. "Is it possible
that you accuse me of this murder?"
"No, no! Pray sit down, Miss Darrel."
"I didn't even know of the matter till next
morning," she said, resuming her seat, still frowning.
"I alluded to being lost merely as a figure of speech.
I am not conventional as a rule, but even I would
hesitate at going to a bachelor's rooms at night.
But, for all that, I did go," she finished, defiantly.
"Oh! you did go. May I ask why?" She made
no response to this appeal, and Rixton laid his hand
lightly on her arm. "You must confide in me, Miss
Darrel," he said, earnestly; "indeed you must.
Conway is in a position of great danger, and I wish
to save him for your sake—for his own. To do so
I must know all—all," he repeated, with emphasis.
"I know, Mr. Rixton; I believe in you, I trust
you, I—oh!" she cried, covering her blushing face.
"I see no reason why I should not tell you. After
all, it was only a girlish freak—a trick that I played
on Gerald."
"A trick?"
"Yes. You know that before I became engaged
to Gerald, I was what is called a new woman—one
of those who think that women should have equal
freedom with man."
"I know that, Miss Darrel; go on, tell me as
though you were informing a girl friend."
"There was nothing disgraceful in what I did,"
she rejoined, proudly; "still, I regret having gone
to the rooms. It was merely a whim. Gerald


THE OTHEB WOMAN.

was laughing at my ideas regarding the emancipation
of the sex, and said that I was too conventional
to have the courage of my opinions. For a jest, I
declared that I would one evening pay a visit to his
rooms in Garry Street."
"But ycm have often been there, Miss Darrel?"
"In the daytime, but not alone, at night. It was
a foolish thing to do, and I regretted it the moment
I entered the library."
"Oh! yon entered the library. Did you see any-
thing unusual there?"
"No, I did not. It was in the library that man
was found, was it not?" she said with a shudder.
"Perhaps I was too early."
"At what time were you there?"
"Between nine and ten. I was at the Avenue
Theatre, in a box with old Mrs. Penworth. I told
her I was going out to get a breath of fresh air. So
I did about nine o'clock, and when I left her she
was asleep, as-the play was dull. I wrapped myself
in a cloak, called a cab, and drove to Garry Street;
then I left the hansom at the door, and ran upstairs."
""Was the street-door open?"
""Wide open, and the electric light was burning.
I was only in the library for ten minutes, and there I
wrote a note telling Gerald what I had done."
"Who admitted you into the rooms?"
"The servant, Doolan. Ah, you must not be
angry with him. I made him promise to be silent
about my folly, and gave him half-a-sovereign to
hold his tongue."
Rixton laughed. The story was quite feasible


THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
'and, no doubt, true. Neither Doolan nor Mrs.
Phorney had retired before ten o'clock, so it was
certain that the one had not locked the street-door
at that time, and that the other had admitted Lena
into the chambers. As regards Doolan's silence on
a subject of so much importance, Eixton felt that
he could hardly blame him for keeping quiet about
Miss Darrel's foolish conduct; but he mentally
registered a resolve not to trust the servant's words
so implicitly as he had done. Doolan could be
bought over; Doolan could be bribed. There was
food for reflection in that knowledge.
"You returned to the Avenue Theatre, I suppose?"
the detective observed, after a pause.
"Yes! I was back within the half-hour, and
Mrs. Penworth was still asleep. No one knows of my
escapade but Gerald, and you, and Mrs. Brynmaur."
"Mrs. Brynmaur!" repeated Rixton, pricking up
his ears. "How did she come to know?"
"Well, it was in her presence that Gerald laughed
at me about my fancies; and it was she who
suggested that I should pay the visit. Next morning
I told her that I had done so."
"Did you know of the murder at the time?"
"I did not; my father usually reads the morning
papers in his own room. I drove to Benedict Square
shortly before eleven, and it was Mrs. Brynmaur who
showed me the paragraphs."
"Was she agitated when she did?"
"Yes, she was!" admitted Lena, with some
hesitation. "She said that Gerald might get into
trouble."


THE OTHEB WOMAN. • ^
"And you?"
"I laughed at her, for I did not connect Gerald
with the crime. It seems too horrible to imagine.
When the afternoon papers came out with the news
of his arrest, I was thunderstruck. I wished to go
to him at once in Holloway, hut my father pre-
vented me. But now that I know Gerald wants to
see me I shall go, in spite of all opposition."
"I shall take you there, Miss Darrel."
"Oh, thank you—thank you, Mr. Rixton. I am
glad Gerald has so good a friend as you to stand by
him. But how can we prove his innocence? "What
does he say? Who is this dead man?"
"As to your last question, I know no more than
you do, Miss Barrel. Gerald vows that he is innocent.
He denies all knowledge of the man and the murder.'
"It is very strange," she murmured, with trouble
in her eyes.
"You are not doubtful of his innocence, are you,
Miss Darrel?" said Bixton, a trifle cruelly.
She looked at him, a very goddess with anger on
her mobile face, and held her chin higher than usual.
"There is no need to answer that question* Mr.
Rixton," she said, curtly.
"No ! I believe there is not," he replied, with a nod
of commendation. "But come, Miss Darrel, time is
pressing, and we must get to business."
"Business?"
"Yes! we must make a united effort to extricate
Conway from his very unpleasant position. Axe
you willing to answer a few questions?"
"Yes, certainly."


TSS CAftBVNCLE CLUS.
yy
"Oh, you don't quite understand what I mean,"
said Rixton, benignly; "you must answer exactly
what I ask you, and add no remarks.
"Very well. Begin, and I shall do my best."
"I may offend you. I intend to ask ycu some
very delicate questions." Lena looked puzzled, and
felt inclined to demand an explanation; but thinking
that she would learn his meaning during the course
of the questioning, she simply requested him to begin.
"Very good," said Rixton, in a gratified tone.
"In the first place you are in love with, and engaged
to, Gerald Conway?"
"Yes, I am," she answered, biting her lips to
prevent further speech.
"Good. I have heard it stated that Mrs. Bryn-
maur is also in love with Conway—now, Miss Darrel,
remember your promise."
Lena resumed her seat; and shot an indignant
glance at him. "I have heard so too, and I don't
believe it."
"Your promise, Miss Darrel."
"Mrs. Brynmaur is my friend; she would not be
so base as to come between us."
"You will add remarks," murmured Rixton.
"Well, to continue, it was Mrs. Brynmaur who
persuaded you to visit Garry Street at night?"
"Yes; that is, she put the idea into my head."
"Same thing, Miss Darrel. She knew you were
going on Wednesday night?"
"She did; I told her I would take advantage of
being at the Avenue Theatre to do so."
"You left a note for Conway in the library?"


82
TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Remember the fourth act of 'Diplomacy': the
unmasking of the Countess Zicka."
"Oh! I see what you mean," she said, in a
relieved tone; "but how could that apply to me?"
"Why I" said Rixton, puzzled in his turn, "the
blotting-pad and the pen-holder in the library at
Garry Street were impregnated with the perfume
used by you."
"Not by me, not by me," she cried, quickly. "This
perfume is new—quite new. I did not know of it
last Wednesday."
"Ah!" exclaimed Rixton, with much satisfaction,
"it is as I thought.
"Mrs. Brynmaur gave me a little of the scent,
which she had lately got from Paris—that was on
Thursday. Mr. Rixton," cried Lena, suddenly
enlightened, "if this scent was on the blotting-pad—
if—if—on Wednesday—you—you—can't you see?"
"Plainly," replied Rixton, smoothly. Mrs.
Brynmaur was also in the library on that night."
"Then she—she"
"Yes. She got your note, not Gerald Conway."


CHAPTER X.
THE DEAD MAN'S NAM«-
Hixtox was by no means surprised at the informa-
tion he had obtained relative to Mrs. Brynmaur.
From tie moment that Lis memory was refreshed,
hy the olfactory sense, he knew that she must have
visited Garry Street on the night of the murder. A
fortnight previous to that time he had heen seated
with the lady in her own house, when she was enter-
taining a number of guests; and he had remarked
on the strange, sickly scent with which she was
perfumed. Mrs. Brynmaur had then informed him
that it was the latest perfume from Paris, and was
called "Hitu," in compliment to the reigning Mikado
of Japan. From that country it had been brought
to Paris; Mrs. Brynmaur had obtained it to scent her
handkerchief in England. She little knew when
making this explanation how fatal the perfume would
prove to her.
The discovery that Lena had also been at Garry
Street on Wednesday night was a surprise to Bixton.,
hence his puzzled look on picking up the girl's hand-


81
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
kerchief. He could have sworn, using the scent
"Hitu" as an argument, that Mrs. Brynmaur alone
had been in the library; but, just to lower his pride,
Fate had ironically interpolated the episode of Lena's
prank. But for the girl's explanation as to when,
and, from whom, she had obtained the perfume
Rixton would have been doubtful of Mrs. Brynmaur's
visit; but as Lena positively asserted that she first
used the scent on Thursday, Mrs. Brynmaur alone
could have unknowingly perfumed the blotting-pad
on Wednesday. On this evidence Rixton was
satisfied that the lady in question had paid that mid-
night visit.
"But why the deuce did she compromise her
reputation by going there?" soliloquized Rixton,
the morning after his call on Lena. "Granted that
she loves Conway, it seems madness that she should
call and see him at such an hour. There is no doubt
that she found Miss Darrel's note on the desk, and
intended to terrorize the girl into giving up
Conway. This murder, and the subsequent arrest of
Conway, must have upset her calculations. I wonder
at what time she left the library. It was a quarter
to eleven when the cabman drove her from Benedict
Square; she went straight to Garry Street—she must
have arrived there after eleven. Between eleven and
twelve the man was murdered, according to the
medical evidence. He followed her from Benedict
Square, in the second cab; they must both have been
in the library at that time. Humph! it looks as
though Mrs. Brynmaur were guilty."
Rixton argued thus, but he did not actually believe


THE DEAD MAN'S NAME.
85
Sirs. Brynmaur could have killed the unknown, if
only on account of the strength which must have beeu
used to commit the murder. As in the case of Lena,
he could not bring himself to think that a woman
had either the nerve or the muscle to strike the blow.
Yet the behaviour and the actions of Mrs. Brynmaur
were suspicious in the extreme. If she had not done
the deed herself, she knew the name of the guilty
person.
"Well," thought Rixton, "I'll see Mrs. Brynmaur
after the inquest, and find out what she was after
at Garry Street on that night. No doubt she will
tell a lie, but she's a mighty clever woman if she
succeeds in deceiving me."
"With this comfortable opinion, which Rixton after-
wards saw reason to alter, he walked to Beatrice
Street. There he intended to see Bennett, and learn
what he could relative to Mrs. Brynmaur. His train
of reasoning was as follows: Mrs. Brynmaur had
left Benedict Square, and had gone to Garry Street
on "Wednesday night, followed by the man who was
afterwards murdered; this was proved by the
evidence of Jenkins, the cabman. Mrs. Brynmaur
had been in the Garry Street library after eleven
o'clock, as was proved by the scent "Hitu." Mrs.
Brynmaur came from Mexico and had been in Lima,
proved by Madrazo. Horace Bennett, as stated by
himself to Conway, had lately returned from Lima.
From these reasons Rixton drew the conclusion that
Bennett might possibly know something about Mrs.
Brynmaur likely to explain her extraordinary actions.
The something, argued Rixton, had to do with Lima;


86 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
and so indirectly by the aforesaid reasoning with her
visit to Garry Street. That connected her with the
unknown man who had been murdered, and so, by
calling on Horace Bennett, the detective hoped,
through the woman's visit, to learn the name of
the victim. The folded paper given by Madrazo
was also a factor, which led Rixton to call at
Slowman's Hotel in Beatrice Street.
It was not the first time that Rixton had been
there on detective business. Slowman's should have
been called Fastman's, for it was a flashy, low-
class public-house, much frequented by suspicious
characters. You turn out of St. Martin's Lane into
Beatrice Street, and then after another turn you find
Slowman's blocking the end of a blind alley. Low
betting men, dog stealers, bird fanciers, and even
worse folk hang about the bar, or congregate in the
stuffy back rooms adorned with sporting prints.
Slowman's wife, a brazen hussy with a giggle,
presides at the bar; and the landlord, himself a raffish
creature with a white hat tipped over the left eye,
talks horse-flesh and gambling on the turf to his
disreputable patrons. That Horace Bennett, a gentle-
man of birth and estate, should choose so shabby and
criminal a residence, spoke volumes as to his
character. Conway was not far wrong in his
estimate of the returned prodigal still remaining the
scamp he was when he went away. The leopard
cannot change his spots. For the above-mentioned
reasons, Rixton made his appearance at Slowman's
in the character of Fanks, and was received with
much deference by the landlord. That worthy was


THE DEAD MAN'S NAME.
87
too shady in his ways to treat the representative of
Scotland Yard otherwise than with consideration.
He was invited into the back room, and requested
to put a name to his particular poison, but wishing
to keep his head perfectly clear for obvious reasons,
Rixton declined liquor in favour of a cigar. The
weed was a bad one, but better than the whisky;
that was, as the landlord playfully termed it,
"poison."
"On business, Mr. Fanks?" asked Slowman, with
rather a perturbed expression of countenance, not
being quite clear in his mind as to the legality of
several late transactions.
"Not exactly. I've called to see a friend of mine
who has lately come here from South America.
"Ah! you bet that's Mr. Brenam. I ain't sorry
as he's a friend o' yourn, Mr. Fanks; for I guess a
man of your talents 'ull know where he hangs out."
"Doesn't he hang out here?" asked Rixton,
composedly. He half expected this reply.
"My gum, he did," said Slowman, delicately, "but
by gum, he don't now. William, when was it that
Mr. Brenam took his hook?"
William, a wall-eyed waiter, flourishing a dirty
napkin, advanced into the room, and saluted Rixton
with a leer. He was acquainted with the detective
through the medium of a jewel robbery, in which he
had figured as the receiver of the swag.
"Mr. Brenam?" said William. "The cove as
came from Peeru? Well, Mr. Slowman, this is
Saturday, ain't it, and I guess the gent lifted leg on
Wednesday."


88 TSE CAIiBVNCLE CLUE.
"That's it," explained Slowman, turning to
Itixton; "Wednesday night it was when he got. I
ain't seen him since, and he owes me a week's bill;
if he don't turn up soon I'll bust open his box. The
law's on my side, ain't it, Mr. Fanks?"
"You can certainly open his box, if he does not
turn up within a reasonable time," said Rixton,
leisurely. "But what makes you think he is not
coming back?"
"Oh, I ain't got no reason," replied Slowman;
"only a gent don't get round town Thursday, Friday,
and Saturday in evening dress."
"Oh! he left here in evening dress, did he?"
"About ten o'clock," interposed William,
anticipating the landlord's reply. "He went out
half-past six and he came back half-past eight; he
goes up to his room, and gets out with another gent
at ten. No," said William, correcting himself, "the
other gent went fust; but I guess Mr. Brenam
followed, tho' I didn't see him get out."
So there was another man implicated in the doings
of Bennett. Rixton's face clouded for the moment,
as the discovery upset his theory. However, he
showed no very pointed anxiety on the subject, but
questioned William with his usual calmness.
"How do you know that he went out in evening
dress if you did not see him?" asked Rixton.
"Well, Mr. Fanks," said William, scratching his
head, "this 'ere's a rum business altogether. I
didn't see the other gent go up, an' I didn't twig
Mir. Brenam come down; but I saw Mr. B. in his room
in evenin' dress, when he hollered for rum hot."


THE DEAD MAN'S NAME.
89
"And this Mr. Brenam's personal appearance,
William?"
"A tall gent, sir, with a scowl, an' a 'eavy black
beard; the other gent as came down fust was.also in
evenin' dress, sir, but clean shaved, sir. I sawr 'im
as he passed by the bar door."
Did you see the two men together when you were
upstairs P" asked Rixton, who, as the saying goes,
began to "smell a rat."
"No, sir, I didn't. But I 'ear Mr. B. talkin' to the
other gent; he was sayin' as W he intended to make
it 'ot for sum 'un."
"P'r'aps you'd like t'ave a squint at his room, sir?"
said Slowman, annoyed at being put in the background
by his own waiter.
"Yes, I would, Slowman; and I think," added
Rixton, rising, "that it would be as well to open that
box."
"My eye!" cried the landlord, rather alarmed;
"you don't go for to say as he's done anything?"
"I'll tell you that when I know his name,
Slowman."
"Brenam, he said it was, Mr. Fanks."
"Humph! I have my doubts as to the truth of
that. Lead the way, Slowman."
"Crikey!" ejaculated the host, as he obeyed. "I
didn't think as he was a cove of that sort. Quite the
high and mighty swell he was. Just come over from
Peeru, he said; yarned about them Indians an* gold
like pie, he did. Wot does he mean by bringing his
wickedness to a respectable hotel, I'd like to know?"
By this time Rixton had been shown into a fair-
u


TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
sized room, over the bar; a situation which was
hardly conducive to sleep, as Slowman's customers
got abusive in their cups, and, not unfrequently flung
them at each other's heads, with bad language. There
was an untidy bed, a dirty washstand, a cracked
looking-glass, and a blind pulled up askew. Clearly,
Mr. Bennett, alias Brenam, was not inordinate in his
demand for luxury. William the wall-eyed had
remained downstairs, and Rixton, wishing to examine
the black trunk by himself, asked Slowman to follow
suit.
"Certainly! certainly," said that worthy, backing
to the door; "but the box is locked, and you'll need
a chisel."
"I have one," replied Rixton, drily, and produced
the article from his pocket.
"Crikey!" muttered Slowman, stumbling down-
stairs, "he intended to bust the box all along. Is it
dimins or plate? I wish I'd knowed, an' I'd have
looted the box afore Fanks came round. Cuss these
meddlesom' tecs."
Quite unconscious of the blessing invoked on his
head, Rixton pulled the black box out from the wall,
and with a dexterity worthy of those he hunted, forced
open the lid. It flew back to reveal a heap of clothes
untidily bulging half-way up the box. The quality
of the linen and clothes was fine, but on neither could
Rixton discover the name of Brenam or of Bennett.
In one corner Rixton disinterred a razor, a shaving-
brush, and a quantity of curling black hair, wrapped
up in a dirty piece of newspaper.
"His beard," murmured Rixton. "I thought so;


THE DEAD MAN'S NAME. 91
Bennett was talking to himself in the room, and so
William thought that he had a stranger with him. He
went up with this beard, cut it off, and shaved when
in evening dress; and so William again mistook him,
going out, for a stranger. I now understand why he
wanted hot water: not for his rum, but to shave with.
A cunning rogue, Mr. Bennett. Halloa! What's
this?"
It was a small book, bound in red morocco, marked
"Diary." Rixton opened it, and glanced at the
name written on the fly-leaf. Under the name
appeared a blotch of brown sealing-wax, stamped with
the figure of a weasel.
"Oh!" said Rixton, with a satisfied nod,here is
the impress of the carbuncle stone. What the deuce
does this mean, and why should he seal his diary?
Humph! This is proof positive that the man here was
the man who wore the bracelet: the man who followed
Mrs. Brynmaur, the man who was murdered in Garry
Street."
He looked again at the name in the diary, "Horace
Bennett," and then took out of his pocket the folded
paper given to him by Madrazo.
"Now!" said Rixton, rather agitated, "I am
about to learn if I am a fool or a wise man; if my
theory is correct, the name in this paper should be
Horace Bennett."
He opened the paper, and there in Madrazo's firm
handwriting was the name, "Horace Bennett."


CHAPTER XL
A LEADEE IN THE "MORNING PLANET."
"The extraordinary evidence given at the inquest
held on the body of the man murdered in Garry Street
once more proves the truth of the old adage that
Truth is stranger than fiction.' The report of the
proceedings reads more like a detective story than an
occurrence of real life; and we have no doubt that the
circumstances will be utilized by our romancers and
playwrights. The materials for an Adelphi drama
or a shilling shocker are to be found in the latest phase
of the Garry Street crime. Not even the elements of
mystery are wanting, for while admitting the inno-
cence of Mr. Gerald Conway, in whose rooms the
tragedy took place, the jury have been forced to bring
in a verdict declaring that the deceased was mur-
dered by some person or persons unknown. Who this
assassin or these assassins may be, it is impossible to
say. Nothing has been discovered likely to elucidate
this point; nothing, so far as we now see, will
be discovered. The Garry Street crime is a
mystery.


A LEADER IN THE "MORNING PLANET." 93
"The police have ascertained the name of the
deceased to be Horace Bennett, and in that discovery
lies the extraordinary circumstance of the case, which
lifts it out of the ordinary run of crime. The
unfortunate gentleman, who was a cousin of Mr.
Conway, left England some six years ago on account
of his health. The doctors ordered him to live in a
warm climate; therefore he went to Lima, the capital
of Peru. Here he married and settled down, content
to spend his life in exile so that he might retain his
health. Unfortunately, his enfeebled frame was not
proof against the malignant yellow fever, which yearly
claims so many victims in South America; and Mr.
Bennett was struck down by the disease four years
ago. He removed with his wife to Cuzco, a mountain
town, in the hope of benefiting by the air, but here
Mrs. Bennett died through exhaustion in nursing her
husband; and, strange to say, Mr. Bennett was re-
ported dead also.
"As a matter of fact, as has been since ascertained,
he was in a trance, although the doctor who attended
him gave a certificate of death. That certificate was
forwarded to England by one Patrick Doolan, the
servant of the deceased, and on its receipt the property
of the late Mr. Bennett (consisting of the Barnleigh
estates in Devonshire, with a rent-roll of five thousand
a year) passed into the possession of Mr. Conway, his
cousin. It now appears that after Doolan left Cuzco
for Lima, Mr. Bennett recovered from his trance, and
afterwards went still farther into the interior of Peru,
where he was captured by an Indian tribe. Detained
among them for four years, he only made his escape


A LEADER IN THE "MORNINO PLANET." 95
late Mr. Bennett vanished from Beatrice Street at ten
o'clock; he reappeared in Garry Street at midnight.
Then he was dead and cold, seated before Mr. Conway's
desk in the library.
"This discovery was made by Mr. Conway himself,
who returned home from the Curtain Theatre to find
his dead cousin. The strangest part of the whole
affair is that Mr. Conway, deceived by the absence of
beard, did not recognise his cousin. Too much, wo
think, has been made of this surely natural mistake.
Mr. Conway asserts that he only saw his cousin twice
in his life; once before he left for Peru, the second
time on his return at the Athenian Club. Under
these circumstances it was scarcely to be expected that
Mr. Conway should have identified the black-bearded
relative of the club with the clean-shaven man found
dead in his chambers. Again, death alters a face: the
expression vanishes, the light dies out of the eyes, and
all that is left is a meaningless mask. Considering
the slight acquaintance Mr. Conway had with his
deceased cousin, the alteration by death, and the
removal of so distinguishing a mark as a beard,
we repeat that it was by no means extraordinary that
Mr. Conway should have failed to recognise his relative,
and should have regarded the dead man at his desk as
a complete stranger.
"We said at the time that the police were not
warranted in arresting Mr. Conway. The evidence on
which he was accused of being guilty was purely
circumstantial. A dead man, a locked door, and the
declaration of Doolan that he found his master greatly
agitated standing beside the corpse: on these grounds



90
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
Mr. Conway was submitted to the ignominy of a prison
cell. The weapon with which the murder was done
was not discovered in his possession or in his rooms—
it has not been discovered yet; there was no blood on
his clothes ; his attire showed no signs of a struggle;
and he declared—truly, as we have shown—that he did
not even know the dead man's name. Yet he was
arrested on these frivolous grounds, and kept in prison
close on a week. No doubt the police, with mistaken
zeal, would have hanged him but for the medical
evidence and that of Mr. Cuthbert Morton.
"More; since the discovery that the deceased was
Horace Bennett, the cousin of Mr. Conway, there have
not been wanting some who accuse him of having
compassed the death of his unfortunate relative, in
order to keep possession of the Barnleigh estates. He
inveigled the deceased to his rooms, say these wiseacres,
and there killed him in a barbarous manner, while the
poor gentleman was seated at his desk. Does it not
strike these foolish people, did it not strike the police
when they arrested Mr. Conway, that no one guilty
of a crime would have executed it in so dangerous a
place, or would have remained in the room with the
evidence of his guilt? As well have deemed that the
servant killed Horace Bennett, because he was in the
chambers at the time the murder took place.
"Fortunately the character of Mr. Conway has been
fully cleared, and he can hold up his head again among
his fellow-men. Dr. Herrick- who was called in by
Mr. Conway himself shortly after the discovery of the
body, deposed at the inquest that the unfortunate
gentleman must have been killed at half-past eleven


TA LEADER IN THE "MORNINQ PLANET." 97
o'clock. The evidence of Mr. Cuthbert Morton proves
that Mr. Conway only left him at the gates of Palace
Yard at five minutes to twelve; so the solemn
declaration of both these gentlemen shows that the
deceased was already a corpse when Mr. Conway
entered his chambers at midnight. The Abbey Chimes
rang that hour when Mr. Conway ascended the stairs;
then his cousin had been dead already thirty minutes.
On hearing this evidence the jury unhesitatingly
declared Mr. Conway innocent, and brought in a
verdict that the deceased, Horace Bennett, had met
his death at the hands of a person or persons un-
known. The name of the assassin is still hidden;
but the wrongfully accused Mr. Conway is free and
stainless.
"So far it is plain sailing; but now we come to a
dead stop, and ask the question: Who murdered
Horace Bennett? How did Horace Bennett and his
murderer enter rooms of which Mr. Conway alone had
the key? What was the motive of this cruel crime?
No one can reply to these queries. The servant
Doolan states positively—and there is no reason to
doubt his word—that he heard nothing from the time
he went to bed at ten o'clock, until the moment he was
summoned by his master to the library. Again.
Where is the weapon with which the crime was com-
mitted? It cannot be found, although tlie police have
made every effort to obtain it. The inquest, which
resulted in the acquittal of Mr. Conway, has left the
matter more of a mystery than ever. Is it to remain a
mystery? We say yes.
"It is, perhaps, premature to make so bold a decla-
N


CHAPTER XII.
SIXPENCE.
Eixton read the foregoing leader in the 'Morning
Planet' with much amusement and scarcely concealed
contempt. He was breakfasting with Conway, in the
Garry Street rooms, and the clock had just struck ten
when he threw aside the paper.
"The gentleman who wrote that article seems pretty
certain that the matter is at an end," he said, yawning.
"I hope to prove the contrary."
"Do you still believe that you will find the
assassin?" asked Conway, doubtingly.
"Why not? You don't suppose that I shall leave
the case unfinished? Oh, no, I know more than
this newspaper fellow does. His account is inter-
esting, but inaccurate. However, I am glad that it
is so."
"For what reason?"
"The best of all reasons, my dear fellow. I don't
wish certain people to be placed on their guard."
"Then you have your suspicions?"
"Yes, I have my suspicions," assented Rixton,



100 THE CABBUNCLS CLUE.
looking thoughtfully at his pipe. "Whether thoso
suspicions will result in anything tangible remains to
be seen.
Conway made no comment on this speech, but sat
musingly nursing his chin with one hand. He looked
much older than his years, and strangely haggard,
which was hardly to be wondered at considering the
martyrdom he had endured for the last few days.
Innocent as he had been proved to be, the fact that he
had been shut up in prison, and accused of a frightful
crime degraded him in his own estimation. Not even
the strong friendship of Rixton, or the love of Lena,
could console him for the indignity and anguish of the
past. With a gloomy brow, he frowned at the carpet,
and thought of the unpleasant position he occupied
with regard to re-entering society after his late
troubles.
Paying no attention to his companion, Rixton
slipped his ring up and down his little finger,
—always a sign of irritation with him—and revolved
in his own mind the fresh start he intended to make in
investigating the case. The knowledge he had of
Bennett's movements on that night; of Mrs. Bryn-
maur's behaviour; of Madrazo's extraordinary con-
duct ; and, above all, the possession of the dead man's
diary—these things formed ample material upon
which to work. But he fretted over the meaning of
the carbuncle bangle: for the life of him he could not
understand why the dead man liad worn it, or why he
had used it to impress the figure of the weasel on the
brown sealing-wax in the diary.
From reflecting on this knotty point he was roused


SIXPENCE.
101
by an observation from Conway. The young man
was on his feet walking to and fro between the break-
fast-table and the door of the library. A glance
through the latter had detemined the nature of his
remark.
"I shall go to Paris by the night mail," he said
half to himself; "anything will be better than
remaining to face curiosity and painful congratu-
lation."
By no means approving of this resolution, Rixton,
looked up and shook his head. "I wouldn't do that
if I were you," he said, quietly.
""Why not? I am free now, I believe," observed
Conway, with some bitterness. "There is no hindrance
to my leaving England, is there?"
"None that I know of—except the duty which you
owe to your good name."
With a start Conway paused in his walk, and looked
inquiringly at his friend.
"You have been set free," resumed Rixton, leisurely
"on the clearest evidence, and I have no doubt that
the majority of your fellow-countrymen hold to your
innocence- But there are other people—ill-con-
ditioned people, my dear fellow—who will continue
to hint that there is no smoke without fire. Your
departure from England would be commented upon
unfavourably."
"In other words, I am still suspected?"
"By ill-conditioned people only," repeated Eixton.
"Even this paper," he added, tapping the 'Morning
Planet,' "remarks on the facts that you did not know
your cousin when he was dead in yonder room;


SIXPENCE.
103
alter an opinion should I find a reason for doing so.
I wish to see if you can supply me with any reason in
this instance. Come!"
Dominated by the decision of Rixton, the young man
walked with him into the library. His friend closed
the dining-room door and that of the bedroom, then
refilled his pipe, and nodded gaily.
"Smoke, my dear fellow, smoke; our conversation
is likely to be a long one, and, I hope, not un-
interesting."
In a few minutes the pair were gravely smoking in
opposite chairs; and, stimulated by Rixton's prompt
action, Conway looked brighter than he had since his
arrest. After a pause, he threw his leg over the arm
of the chair, and smiled.
"Well, Rixton," said he, "and what is it you have
to say?"
"Who is Mrs. Brynmaur?" asked Rixton, fixing
his eyes on Conway's face.
"A strange question." he replied. "You know as
much of her as I do."
"Perhaps I know more," rejoined the detective,
grimly, "but not in the way you mean. When a
woman is in love with a man," added Rixton, signi-
ficantly, "she generally tells him a good deal about
herself-"
"But—I say, you know—if you mean that Sirs.
Brynmaur"
"That is exactly what I mean. Mrs. Brynmaur is
in love with you. Deny it if you can."
"As a gentleman, you can hardly expect me to
admit as much, even if it were true."


lot
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Pshaw! We are beyond courtesies at this moment.
Your reputation, your future happiness is at stake.
You must tell me all or nothing."
"What do you wish me to say?"
"Say? Whether Mrs. Brynmaur is in love with you
or not."
"I believe," said Conway, in a rather annoyed tone,
for he hated making the admission, "that Mrs. Bryn-
maur is in love with me."
"Humph! I thought as much. I see her game
now."
"I don't quite understand."
'- In that case I'll put the matter in plain language,"
said Rixton, coolly. "Mrs. Brynmaur is in love with
you, but you are not in love with her. She wishes to
marry you, and you are engaged to Miss Darrel. To
remove this obstacle she desires to terrorize Miss
Darrel into breaking off the match, and laid her plana
with considerable foresight- Unfortunately,' she has
been checkmated by Fate; and this murder hampers
her future movements."
"What has Mrs. Brynmaur to- do with the
murder?"
"Ah! that is what I wish to know; we'll come to
that presently. In the meantime, tell me if, on your
return from the Curtain Theatre, you found a note
awaiting you from Miss Darrel?"
"No, I certainly did not. Did she send me a
note?"
"She left a note," corrected Rixton, "a note to tell
you that she had been in this library shortly before ten
o'clock on that Wednesday night,"


SIXPENCE.
105
"Lena here—in this room—at that time!" cried
Conway, rising. "How inconceivably rash! "Why
did she come here?"
"Partly through you, partly through Mrs. Bryn-
maur! You laughed at her aping the new woman,
when Mrs. Brynmaur was present, and afterwards the
lady suggested to Miss Darrel that she could show that
she did not care for the rules of society, by paying a
visit to your rooms at night."
"And she did, you say?" said Conway, hardly able
to credit the statement.
"And she did," repeated Rixton, gravely. "She
left the Avenue Theatre for half an hour, came on here,
bribed Doolan to admit her, and wrote a note telling
you of her escapade."
"How was it that I did not get that note?" asked
Conway.
"Because it is now in the possession of Mrs.
Brynmaur."
"Mrs. Brynmaur?"
"Yes. Can't you see her game?" said Rixton,
impatiently. "She hoped to use that note to com-
promise Miss Darrel, and thus make her give you
up for the sake of her reputation. That was why
Mrs. Brynmaur suggested the visit. But, as I said
before, she has been checkmated by this murder, for
she can't use the compromising note without con-
fessing how she got it, and she can't own up that
without stating that she was here on Wednesday
night, between eleven and twelve."
"Mrs. Brynmaur—on the night of the murder!"
"Yes! She came to catch Miss Darrel, I tell you>
9


106 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
and to swear that she would denounce her visit if the
match with you wasn't broken off."
"What a wicked woman," cried Conway, angrily.
"You may well say that, but Mrs. Brymnaur is
a Mexican, and accustomed to indulge herself in every
way. She wants to marry you, and will stick at
nothing to accomplish her object."
"How do you know that she was here on that
night?"
"I traced her by means of a scent; I made use of
Sardou's ruse in 'Diplomacy.'"
"I see; but who let the woman in?"
"I think Madrazo can answer that question," said
Rixton, drily; "you know he has a duplicate key."
"I forgot that," said Conway, with a start. "I
must see him about it."
"No! No! Leave it in my hands; I shall inter-
view that gentleman."
"Rixton," said Conway, after a pause, "do you
think that either Mrs. Brynmaur or Madrazo had any-
thing to do with the murder?"
"I must decline to answer that at present," replied
Rixton, rising; "later on I shall let you know. In
the meantime, let us call at Kerrymore Gardens; but
say nothing, my friend, or you may place a certain
person on his guard."
"On his guard. Then you don't mean Mrs.
Brynmaur."
"No! In this instance I don't mean Mrs.
Brynmaur."
"Madrazo?"
"Not even Madrazo."


SIXPENCE.
107
"Then who the deuce do you mean?" cried
Conway, out of patience with this fencing.
Rixton produced a small silver coin from his pocket.
"On the morning after the murder I picked up this
from under your desk. You see that it is a sixpence,
that it has a hole in it, and ' initials' engraved thereon.
Can you tell me to whom it belongs?"
"Great heavens!" cried Conway, at once recog-
nising the coin, "it belongs to Mr. Darrel—to Lena's
father!"
-


CHAPTEK XIII.
TEETTT MHS. BRYNMAT7R.
During the drive to Kerrymore Gardens, but little
conversation was exchanged between the pair. Aiter
that last statement regarding the sixpence which
Conway had recognised as the property of Michael
Darrel, the detective refused to further enlighten his
friend.
"We will talk of these matters later on," he said,
smiling. "At present my theory is so imperfect
that I do not wish to submit it to anyone. My
suspicions are strong, but they may prove incorrect.
All I ask is that you hold your tongue, and be civil
to Mrs. Brynmaur."
"I sha'n't go near the woman," growled Conway,
crossly.
"You will meet her this morning at Kerrymore
Gardens," said Bixton, significantly. "Oh, do not
look so astonished; it is not chance, but arrangement.
I requested Miss Darrel to ask her. I wish to see
her—in your presence."
"I don't see how that will help you," said Gerald,
flushing.


PRETTY MRS. BRYNMAUR. 109
"Probably not; but I have my reasons, and I
wish , to work the matter out in my own way. Mis.
Brynmaur," explained Rixton, "is in love with you.
She has made a bold stroke to get you for a husband.
Her plot has failed through untoward circumstances,
and I wish now to see her attitude towards you."
"I am at your disposal, my dear fellow," said
Conway, heartily. "You have done so much for me
and for Lena, that I would indeed be ungrateful not
to do what you wish. I'll be civility itself to Mrs.
Brynmaur, and," added he, with an effort, "to Mr.
Darrel."
"Don't assume that he is guilty," remarked Rixton,
quickly; "the lost sixpence proves that he was in
the library on the night, but it doesn't say that he
killed Bennett."
"But what the dickens was he doing in my room,
then?"
"For an answer to that I must refer you to Mrs.
Brynmaur."
"Oh!" said Conway, sceptically, "do you think
that there is anything between her and the old
man?"
"That," said Rixton, with great emphasis, "is
what I mean to find out this morning:. There is no
doubt in my mind that old Darrel accompanied Mrs.
Brynmaur to your rooms on that fatal Wednesday.
Mrs. Phorney declared that after eleven she heard
the footsteps of a man and a woman. The woman
was Mrs. Brynmaur; the man, your future father-in-
law."
"Poor Lena."


110 THE CARBUNCLE GIVE.
"Don't pity her until we know the worst. As
yet we don't."
"It is all of a tangle, Rixton; I fail to see how you
can unravel it."
"I know you do," said the detective, good-
humouredly, as the cab stopped at Kerrymore
Gardens; "but don't be afraid; I hold all the clues
in my hand."
It was after eleven when they found themselves
in the drawing-room at Kerrymore Gardens, for the
conversation in the library had taken longer than
either anticipated. Mrs. Brynmaur, who never by
any chance kept appointments to the minute, had
not yet arrived, so Lena had her restored lover all
to herself for quite ten minutes, during which period
Rixton discreetly retired to the window. The last
meeting between the lovers had been painful enough,
as it had taken place in Holloway Gaol, under the
superintendence of the detective, but the sadness
of the past was lost sight of in the joy of the
present.
"My darling," said Lena, fondly kissing Conway's
haggard cheek, "how thankful I am to see you a
free man. I thought that my heart would have
broken."
"All's well that ends well," replied Conway,
returning the embrace, "though, to be sure, the
matter isn't ended yet."
"But, Gerald, you are free—you are innocent!"
"Some people don't think so," rejoined Conway,
with a sigh. "I'm suspected still as having killed
my cousin, in order to keep the estates. Indeed, but


PRETTY MRS. BRYNMAUB. Ill
for Rixton's advice, I should have left town this
afternoon."
"Ton must not do that, Gerald. Mr. Rixton is
quite right; you must wait till the mystery of the
death is cleared up, then none can say a word against
you. I shall help you, Mr. Rixton shall help you,
and between us we may find out the truth."
Gerald kissed her again. "All the same, I am
very angry with you," he said, playfully; "how
could you be so rash as to visit my rooms on that
night?"
"I only did it out of bravado, dear," replied Lena,
with a nervous laugh. "I have been so accustomed
to go about by myself, and to set conventionality at
defiance, that your laughter piqued me. It was rash
and foolish, I admit; still no one knows about my
escapade but Mrs. Brynmaur."
"She suggested it, I believe?" said Conway, with
a frown.
"Yes, and I told her the next morning; but I did
not know then that she had my note."
"I suppose there can be no question of that?"
"Well, Mr. Rixton says she must have taken it
off the desk in your room—I left it there, you know.
But it will be all right, Gerald. Mrs. Brynmaur
is too loyal a friend to say anything."
"My dear!" said Gerald, decidedly, "I do not
approve of your acquaintance with Mrs. Brynmaur.
She is a bad woman, I think."
"Oh, Gerald!" t
"Yes, she is; I am certain of it, and so is Rixton."
On hearing his name, that gentleman came forward


112
THE CAEBUNCLE CLUE.
with a smile. "Am I summoned to the council?"
he asked, lightly.
"We were talking of Mrs. Brynmaur," said
Conway, with a rather embarrassed laugh, which did
not escape the ears of I.*na.
"You had better not talk of Mrs. Brynmaur,"
observed Rixton, with another smile; "she will be
here shortly, and we must be amiable to her."
"Amiable!" murmured Lena, who was beginning
to hate the lady, with all the promptitude of a jealous
woman.
"Don't trouble about her, Miss Darrel," said
Bixton, observing this; "I promise you that in a
few days Mrs. Brynmaur will have her hands too full
to trouble either of you."
"She won't trouble me," cried Conway. "I hate
the woman, and I'm not at all sure that she isn't a
criminal."
"Well, she certainly stole and opened a letter
addressed to another person," laughed Rixton; "but
for the rest we'll say nothing at present. However,
before she arrives, I should like to know a little about
her career. You are intimate with her, Miss Darrel,
so perhaps you can inform me. Who is Mrs.
Brynmaur?"
"She is the wife of the late Mr. Brynmaur."
"I know that she is a widow, and mighty well the
dress becomes her. But who was Mr. Brynmaur?"
"He was a rich country squire, a Shropshire family,
I think," said Lena, to whom Mrs. Brynmaur had
told as much of her career as suited her. "He met
her in Paris, where she was sent from Mexico tcr


PRETTY MRS. BRYNMAUR.
113
school; there he fell in love, and married her ahout
three years ago. He died from a cold he caught
when out shooting, and she has been a widow for the
last two years."
"And well off she is, too, if the gossip of the clubs
goes for anything," said Conway; "close on £20,000
a year, the house in Benedict Square, and a country
mansion in Shropshire. A good catch for some
impecunious bachelor. Pray do not look so doubt-
fully at me, Lena. I am not a hard-up bachelor,
and if I were starving, certainly I should not marry
Mrs. Brynmaur."
Lena felt her jealousy assuaged, and rewarded her
lover with a kiss for that speech. With a meditative
aspect liixton looked on.
"Did she come straight from Mexico to Paris?"
he asked.
"So she says."
"And since being Mrs. Brynmaur, has she paid a
visit to the New World?"
"No!" replied Lena, decidedly. "She hates the
New World, and has no desire to return home; since
her marriage, she has lived solely in London, in
Paris, and in Shropshire."
"Ah," murmured Rixton, in a queer tone, as he
thought of Madrazo's story, "I wonder when she
found time to visit Lima?"
Before Lena could reply to this remark, the door
was thrown open, and Mrs. Brynmaur was announced
by the tall servant. A pretty brunette with a
vivacious manner, richly dressed in a dainty raiment,
with a coquettish widow's cap, showing a line of white
P


PRETTY MRS. BRYNMAUR 115
appeared a lack of freshness about her appearance.
Her manner, too, was forced, and she seemed anxious
and worried; but, like the clever woman she was, she
went on acting a frivolous part so brilliantly as to
deceive everyone—save Eixton.
"And after all," she said to him, "I don't think
I'll remain in England. When the season is at an
end I shall go to Mexico on a visit to my own people."
"I don't know Mexico, Mrs. Brynmaur, but I havo
been to Lima," said Rixton.
This was a lie, but the lady did not know it to be
one, and betrayed her surprise by a start and a keen
glance at the young man. But she was equal to the
occasion.
"Have you really? Perhaps you met that poor
Mr. Bennett there: fancy that story about his having
died at Cuzco. I read it all in the 'Morning Planet.'
You have no idea how it interested me."
"Oh, yes, I have," said Rixton, significantly.
"What odd things you say," replied Mrs.
Brynmaur, nervously; "of course, like all London,
I am immensely interested in the case. I suppose
it is true?"
"So far as Mr. Conway is concerned it is—not
otherwise."
"I suppose those detective people are still looking
for the criminal?—what a horrid criminal—what a
horrid man he must be."
"Perhaps it isn't a man at all," hinted Rixton,
but Mrs. Brynmaur, as the saying is, did not turn a
hair at the pointed remark.
"You don't say so?" she said, coolly. "How


116 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
very interesting, but what a dreadful thing. I
wcnder who she is."
"Oh, some woman with a grudge against Bennett,"
remarked Rixton. "Perhaps she came from Lima
also."
"Ah, really; I wish you would get me a glass of
water, Mr. Rixton, I feel so faint with the heat of the
room."
"I think it must be the strong scent you use," said
Rixton, and brought her the water as requested."
"It's Hitu," explained Mrs. Brynmaur, sipping
the water, "quite a new scent. You have never
heard of it before?"
"Oh, yes; twice, Mrs. Brynmaur: once when you
told me about it at your own house, and again I
detected the odour in the library of our friend, Mr.
Conway."
The little woman paled under her rouge, and let
the glass fall with a crash on the floor.


CHAPTEE XIV.
DIPLOMACY.
"Whether Mrs. Brynmaur guessed that Iiixton knew
anything or not, he was unable to say, for she
recovered her presence of mind and colour with
surprising swiftness. Accustomed to think Rixton
a mere idler, a man of shallow character and super-
ficial attainments, she probably attached no more
meaning to his remark than that he had hit the
bull's-eye by a chance shot. However, be it as it
may, her nerve which had given way one moment
recovered the next, and she laughingly apologised to
Lena, who had come forward when the glass crashed
on the floor.
"So stupid of me—really," said Mrs. Brynmaur,
wiping the drops of water off her dress with a dainty
pocket-handkerchief. "It slipped out of my hand;
I am so sorry."
"Oh, it does not matter in the least," repHed Miss
Darrel. "Take another seat, Mrs. Brynmaur, and
the servant will pick up the pieces of glass."
So sayiiig, she returned to her conversation with


118 TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Gerald in the seclusion of the window, and Mrs.
Brynmaur, still laughing merrily, but, as Rixton
thought, rather artificially, walked across the room
to a comfortable sofa. The detective followed,
determined to renew the conversation from the point
where it was broken off. While casting about for
some time to do this, whereby he might not appear
to force the subject, and so show his hand, Mrs.
Brynmaur referred to the topic on her own account,
and told a lie about it. She was a cleverer woman
than Rixton had taken her to be, and her
frivolous manner concealed a deep and designing
nature. He mentally blamed himself for having
underrated the abilities of his antagonist.
"You were talking of,the new scent, were you not,
Mr. Rixton," she said, coolly, "and wondered how
it had come into Mr. Conway's library. Did you see
a bottle of it there?"
"No; but quite by accident I detected the smell
on—the blotting-pad."
"Really; you make me quite afraid of your clever-
ness. I shall begin to think you are a kind of—
what's his name?—Sherlock Holmes."
"You flatter me, Mrs. Brynmaur," said Rixton,
laughing, "for really the matter is very simple. I
smelt the perfume in Conway's library, and, naturally,
I remembered that you used it. You know that odour
is a powerful aid to memory."
"Oh, indeed, it is; I never smell an orange flower
without being reminded of a grove near our house at
Zacatecas, where I played as a little girl."
"Zacatecas! That is in Mexico?"


DIPLOMACY.
no
"Of course, you foolish man; you Know that I am
a Mexican—at least, half a Mexican—my mother was
English, that is why I am so conversant with the
language."
"You speak it charmingly, Mrs. Brynmaur! But
to return to our subject: I suppose you paid our
friend Conway a visit, and so the perfume got on the
blotting-pad?"
"Oh, dear, no; I am too much afraid of what
people say to pay bachelors visits," said Mrs.
Brynmaur, vivaciously; "but there are other women
not so conventional, Mr. Rixton. I'll tell you a
secret. Yes! I gave a dear friend of mine some
of the scent, and she called on Mr. Conway. But
you must not misunderstand me, for I talk no scandal.
My dear friend has a perfect right to call on Mr.
Conway."
She pointed this remark by a glance in the
direction of Lena, and Rixton smiled as though he
quite understood her. At the same time he quite
appreciated the spiteful skilfulness of the woman in
compromising Lena, without confessing her own share
in the matter. Without knowing it, Rixton, by
mentioning the scent, had put a weapon in her hand,
which would serve her in better stead even than the
compromising letter. The new means of crushing
Lena was less dangerous than the old one.
"You spiteful little tigress," thought Rixton,
blandly smiling in her face. "I'll pull your teeth
and cut your claws before you are many weeks older.
In the meantime, I'll find out all I can by pumping
you." .


120 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
But Mrs. Brynmaur was not an easy person to
pump. She was so frivolous and so vivacious, and
so skilful in misunderstanding remarks, that she
slipped out of Rixton's ringers every time he attempted
to seize her. Never had he met with so slippery a
person, and being handicapped by the necessity of
cautious questioning lest she might grow suspicious,
he found himself at considerable disadvantage during
the ensuing conversation.
"They will make a handsome couple, will they
not?" said Rixton, passing over the allusion to Lena.
"I think Mr. Conway is very handsome," replied
Mrs. Brynmaur, with emphasis; "but dear Lena—
well, really you know, she is rather masculine; now,
isn't she?"
"I can't say I see it; besides, she has given up all
that nonsense about the new woman."
"Horrid creature, the new woman!" exclaimed
the lady, brightly. "I don't believe in the idea
that women should govern the world—do you, Mr.
Rixton?"
"In my opinion they do govern the world, Mrs.
Brynmaur. Women plot and plan, and scheme, and
by underhand working produce the most astonishing
results."
"Now, really, you are too dreadful. I'm sure I
couldn't plot or plan; why, I can't keep a secret—
no woman can."
"That's a popular fallacy, my dear lady; some
women are as deep as the sea, and as secretive—
when it is to their advantage to be so."
Mrs. Brynmaur looked hard at Rixton, to see if


DIPLOMACY.
121
lus conversation hinted at anything personal; but he
met her gaze with so smiling a look, that she decided
at random. If she was clever, he was equal to her;
so they were pretty evenly matched.
"This talk is too deep for poor little me," said
Mrs. Brynmaur, judging it wise to turn the conversa-
tion. "Let us discuss other matters. Tell me why
you have not been to see me for so long."
"I apologise. Indeed, I intended to call the other
day, but in Benedict Square I met with Senor
Madrazo, who persuaded me into accompanying him
to the Park."
"Senor Madrazo," said Mrs. Brynmaur, reflec-
tively, as though the name was unfamiliar. "Oh,
yes; I know him very well; he is a captain in the
Peruvian army."
"So he told me, and mentioned that he had met you
in Lima."
"Indeed, he is quite mistaken," was the quick
response; "I was never so far South."
"Yet Senor Madrazo assured me that he had met
you there."
"The stupid man," said Mrs. Brynmaur, carelessly.
"I see how the mistake occurred—he met my twin
sister."
"I did not know that you had a twin sister."
"Ah, you are not well informed on the subject of
my family, Mr. Rixton. Yes, my twin sister, Lola,
went to Lima, married there, and died there."
She told the lie with such excellent grace that for the
moment Rixton was deceived; but a memory of the
lady's behaviour soon assured him of the falsehood.
Q


124 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
He walked up to Lena with a smile. "Miss
Darrel," he said, "did you lose anything in the library
on—that night?"
"Nothing, Mr. Bixton!"
"Not even—a sixpence?"
"What an idea," she said, laughing; "why, I had
not a purse with me. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, for no particular reason," replied Rixton,
retiring into his own thoughts. "He didn't give
the coin to her," was his mental observation, "so
he must have dropped it himself. I'll see what he
has to say."
Knowing the reason for which Darrel valued the
sixpence, when the gentleman entered the room
Eixton enticed him into a conversation about the
poor. The philanthropist talked largely about his
efforts and the way in which they were recognised by
the masses; but Rixton thought that he seemed ill at
ease.
"I have never been philanthropic myself," he
observed, anxious to come to the point. "I have
always found poor people ignorant, ungrateful, and
dishonest."
"Pardon me, no," said the philanthropist, grandly,
"Ignorant, yes; but not ungrateful—not dishonest.
I have had experience both of their gratitude and
honesty."
"Oh, yes!" remarked Rixton, as if the subject
had just occurred to him. "I forgot about that
sixpence."
"Sixpence, Mr. Rixton?"
"Yes, the one you lent the boot-black, who so


TEE CARVEB STICK.
127
It was with a grave face that Conway eyed his
friend, for he was hy no means easy in his mind
regarding the probable connection of Michael Darrel
with the death of Bennett. Rixton noticed this look,
and was smart enough to understand its meaning;
not a difficult task considering the hints that Conway
had let fall on several occasions.
"Oh, you need not trouble about that, my dear
fellow," said he, with a nod. "I won't bring any
disgrace on you through Darrel."
"Tiat's not the question, Rixton; the question
is whether, when the truth comes to light, he will
prove to have brought disgrace on himself."
"Not in the way you think, Conway; not so bad
as that; otherwise—but after all, my dear chap,
you love Lena, not her father; you marry Lena, not
her father; so cherish Lena and let Mr. Michael
Darrel go—wherever it suits him."
"Rixton! you have heard something about
Darrel?"
"Well, I have!" said the young man, reluctantly,
"but nothing connecting him with the murder."
"But what else can there be?"
"There's a commandment about stealing as well
as about murdering, I believe," said Rixton, rubbing
his chin. "It's not impossible—I say it isn't
impossible—that Darrel may have broken that."
"But such a good man!"
"Oh! so you consider him a good man, my
friend?" asked Rixton, sharply.
Conway said nothing for a moment, but looked
gloomily at the floor.


128 THE CARBUNCLE CLVE.
"Come, come!" cried his friend, clapping Tn'm
on the back. "Cheer up! I only speak in a general
sense; I say nothing definite. It may all come right."
"I brought disgrace on Lena, innocently as you
know, through being accused of this crime," said
Conway, in a low tone. "I hope to Heaven her
father will not bring further disgrace in his own
proper person."
"Amen to that prayer! Come, let us talk of some-
thing else. I'm off in a few minutes."
"Where to?"
"Slowman's Hotel, in Beatrice Street. I wish to
prove the truth of a theory of mine."
"As to what?"
"H'm! I can tell you; as to the weapon with
which this crime was committed."
"It has not yet been found?"
"No!" said Rixton, in a disappointed tone, "it
has not yet been found; but I am now about to look
for it. You remember the medical evidence as to the
nature of the weapon with which the wound in the
back must have been inflicted?"
"Wo! I can't say that I recall it," replied Conway,
who hated to talk of the crime which had been so
fraught with disgrace to himself.
"Dr. Herrick, observed Rixton, slowly, "assured
me that the wound must have been inflicted with
a stiletto or a rapier—in short, with some slender
steel weapon. Now, you know very well that modern
folk don't carry these sort of things about with them."
"No, that's true enough!"
"As the man—your cousin—was stabbed in the


T3E CARVED STICK. 129
back, taken unawares as it were, it is my theory that
the crime was unpremeditated. If so, the assassin
would not have had a dagger, or a stiletto, or a rapier
with him—at all events in that undisguised shape."
"I grant that."
"He would not be able to find such an instrument
in this room, would he?"
"No," said Conway, again, glancing round the
library; "I have nothing of that sort here."
"Well, then," argued Rixton, tranquilly, "it is
my opinion that the weapon used was a sword-
stick."
"A sword-stick?"
"Yes; one of those hollow canes which conceal
a slender, sharp-pointed steel, and which are more
commonly used by timid and dangerous persons than
people suppose. Now, it is my belief that either
the deceased or the assassin carried such a stick, and
I am about to find out."
"How can you expect to discover anything about
the unknown man at Slowman's Hotel?" asked
Conway, sceptically.
"I mentioned your unfortunate cousin also, I
think," said Rixton, a trifle severely. "I will inquire
of William, the waiter, Slowman, the landlord, and
Jenkins, the cabman, as to whether Bennett carried
a stick on that night."
"Admitting that he did, it might not be a sword-
stick."
"True enough," replied the detective, picking up
his hat; "but in a case like this, where I am groping
in the dark, you must allow a certain latitude. It is
B


130
THE CAHBUXCLE CLUE.
all hearsay—and in this instance I may be wrong.
However, I'll try, and if poor Bennett carried a stick,
I may find out if my idea is a correct one."
"And failing the stick?"
"Then I shall fall back on the carbuncle bangle
and the diary."
"I don't see how either of these will help you."
"My dear Conway," said Rixton, pausing at the
door, "your cousin wore a bracelet, which is an
extraordinary ornament for a man to wear; to that
bracelet with the engraving of a weasel on the car-
buncle I attach meaning; that meaning I hope to
find in the diary. "When I know why he wore it,
and the meaning of the weasel graven on the stone,
I'll be able to guess—at all events darkly—at the
name of the assassin."
"Then you do not know it yet?"
"Perhaps I do! perhaps I don't. All in good
time," said Rixton, significantly; "all in good time,"
and so saying he took his departure for Slowman's.
Rixton always believed himself to be a lucky man,
and on this occasion the belief was confirmed, for in
the bar of Slowman's he met, not only the landlord
and the wall-eyed William, but also the cabman
Jenkins. This latter had obtained some celebrity
from having driven the deceased Bennett to Garry
Street; and finding that the dead man had lived at
Slowman's, he had of late patronized the establishment
as one where he could talk over the matter. The
narration of the tragedy had brought custom to the
hotel, and Slowman, with an eye to business, welcomed
the detective with open arms.


THE CARVED STICK.
131
"Oh, you're here, Jenkins," said Rixton, with a
gratified nod. "I wish to speak to you, also to you,
Slowman, and William. Come, all three of you, into
a private room."
In some astonishment and dismay—naturally
enough under the circumstances, for they were afraid
of Scotland Yard—the trio obeyed, and Rixton ranged
them in a row before him in the coffee-room. After
carefully closing the door: —
"Now, then, Slowman," he said, addressing him-
self to the landlord, "do you know if the late Mr.
Bennett carried a cane-—a stick of any kind?"
"What do you think, Mr. Fanks?—and a queer
stick it was."
"I never seed a queerer," interposed William,
who never would be silent; " all carved and painted
with red, white, blue, and yellow."
"I know it, too," said Jenkins, gruffly; "why, he
'eld it hup to show the way when I druve 'im, and
I sawr it, all coloured and queer in the light of the
lamp."
"Ycu must have got good eyes, Jenkins, to see
all that," said Rixton, good-humouredly; "you could
only have seen it for a second."
"I sawr it fur a good many of 'em, sir. He
thought as I didn't know 'ow to foller the other cab,
and 'eld the stick to right and left of my lamps for
minutes at a time. I couldn't see much, but I sawr
the carving and the colours."
"Was it a thick stick?" asked Rixton, again
addressing the landlord.
"Pretty thick, sir; not so thick as your wrist, but


132 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
not much thinner. He showed it to me in the bar,
and said it was a conjurer's rod as the Indians used.
I s'pose he got it when he was coming 'ome. All
carved it was with whirls, and rings, and stars, and
'eads of grinning hidols, coloured, as William says."
"And the stick itself was white, sir," interposed
William again, "with a black carved 'ead with white
stone eyes. Kind of thing as the pore 'eathen pray
to, sir."
"You had it in your hand, Slowman—did you
notice if the head was loose?"
"Why, no, Mr. Fanks, I can't say as I did."
"Humph! I may be mistaken after all."
"Mistaken in what, sir?" chorused the three.
"Never mind. William, did you see the man
you took for a stranger with it?—but no matter,"
broke off Rixton, testily. "You say, Jenkins, that
he had it with him in the cab?"
"Pinting to right an' left, sir, 'e directing of the
way—as if I didn't know my dooty," said Jenkins,
with disgust.
Rixton looked musingly at the beer-sodden
countenance of the man, until Jenkins was quite afraid
and began to edge away under the impression that
he was wanted by the law. He was relieved when
Rixton suddenly questioned him.
"Are you sure that a lady only was in the leading
cab on that night?" he asked.
"Can't say, sir; I didn't see her get hin or hout.
Hin, 'cause I wasn't 'ailed by the gent till the fust
keb started; hout, as I was paid off at the end of
Garry Street, and didn't see 'er git hout,"


TEE CARVED STICK.
133
"Then how do you know a lady was in that cab
at all?"
"Why! 'cause Mr. Bennett, 'e said: Toiler the
lady in that keb,' and I did."
"I understand," said Rixton, and tipped William
and the cabman; with Slowman he had a glass of
whisky, and having thus rewarded all three, he left
the insalubrious neighbourhood of Beatrice Street.
"I know about the stick," he muttered; "but I
should also like to know if Darrel was in the cab with
Mrs. Brynmaur."


CHAPTER XVI.
AX IMPOETANT DISCOVEET.
That same afternoon Rixton returned to Garry Street,
not to see Conway, but to call on Madrazo. Mrs.
Phorney was pottering about, as usual, with dust-pan
and broom, and answered Rixton's inquiry as to
whether the Peruvian was in with a melancholy shake
of her head.
"I b'lieve he is at 'ome, Mr. Rixton," she said,
pausing in her occupation, "though on'y 'eaven knows
'ow long 'e'll stop in them rooms. The ground and
the first 'ave giving notice, as their nerves is shattered
with the 'orrors of bloodshed an' conspiracies; an' if the
top-floorer follers likewise, I don't see as 'ow I'm to
'old out. I wish I could ketch the vil'in as did it,"
cried Mrs. Phorney, vindictively, "I would 'ang 'im
as 'igh as Hannah, I would."
"Well! well" said the gentleman, "perhaps the
police will catch him yet. You have done your best
to help them, Mrs. Phorney, by telling all you know."
"Some, but not all, Mr. Rixtons."
"What do you mean?"
"Oh, my dear young sir, it 'ave been a weight 'ere


AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY. 135
like lead," said Mrs. Phorney, patting her ample
breast; "but I'll tell you, Mr. Rixtons. I 'eard a
knocking on that night close on eleving as I thought
the door 'ud be broke in."
"Why didn't you go up and see -what it was?"
"I was afeared," said Mrs. Phorney, promptly;
"but I did 'op n'out of bed into the hitching and
looked out of the winder up the airy steps. There,"
she added, in a tragic whisper, "I sawr'm."
"Saw him! Saw who?" asked Rixton, greatly
interested.
"There you 'ave me, sir. I can't put a 'andle to
'im. He might 'ave bin a burgular, or an airy thief,
or an intoxishkated gent who mistook his own door.
But 'e rapped and 'ammered for quite ten minutes,
and looked down the airy, and hup at the winders,
and then goes orf in a 'urry."
"Did he look like a gentleman?"
"It was so dark I couldn't tell," replied the care-
taker, " an' I was all of a tremble, so I was glad when
he went, and got into bed right away. There I lay
till I 'eard the footsteps as I told you of; after I
went to sleep, and didn't wake until I was called
up to see the perlice henter. Ho! what 'orrers,"
wailed Mrs. Phorney, "bloodshed and 'orrers, and
gnashin' of teeth. I ain't tne woman I was, Mr.
Rixtons; I'm a wreck."
"Well, Mrs. Phorney," said Rixton, after some
consideration, "as the matter is now an old one, you
need not mention this story to anyone else. Least
said, soonest mended, Mrs. Phorney."
The caretaker wagged her head in doleful


AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY. 137
Anxious to help, Doolan suggested that they both
should search for it.
"If you haven't seen it in the course of Your
cleaning out the rooms, no one else has," said Rixton,
impatiently. "Never mind; we will talk of some-
thing else. Why did you not tell me that Miss
Darrel had been here on that night?"
"I couldn't sir," replied Doolan, without flinching.
"Humph! On account of the half-sovereign, I
suppose. Well, you can own up now, for Miss Barrel
told me that she was here, and left a note on the table
for Mr. Conway."
"She did, sir," said Doolan, respectfully. "I let
her in shortly after nine o'clock, sir; she came in for
ten minutes, wrote the note, and then left. She had
nothing to do with the murder, sir," added he, with
emphasis, "and as she asked me to hold my tongue,
and paid me to do so, I respected the young lady's
secret."
"I suppose you could do nothing else," said Rixton,
discontentedly; "but about the note—did you see
it on that desk?"
"It was lying on the blotting-pad at ten, when I
shut up the room, sir."
"When Mr. Conway called you in to see the dead
body, did you see it?"
"No, sir! I didn't think of it at the time. When
I did, I supposed that Mr. Conway had found it."
After this there was no doubt in Rixton's mind
that Mrs. Brynmaur had stolen the note.
There were several other questions which he wished
to put to Doolan, but after some reflection he
s



138 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
determined to postpone these till some more fitting
occasion. He, therefore, left a message for Conway,
and took his leave. In a few minutes he had
ascended to the third floor, and was knocking at the
door of Madrazo. As that gentleman kept no
servant, he opened the door himself, and appeared
in a dressing-gown, for which he apologised to Rixton.
"Pray excuse," he said, ushering his visitor into
the sitting-room. "I dress to go out—oh, yes! If
you wait, Mr. Eixton, I finish soon. The papers—
cigars—wine, all here. You wait, sir?"
"Certainly," said Eixton, taking a chair, and
accepting the 'Standard' and a cigar. "No wine,
thank you, Madrazo. I never drink between meals."
"Ah! that is so!" said the Peruvian, with a
smile; "well, you smoke; I go to my room. I no
be long, Mr. Rixton."
Left alone, the detective surveved the apartment.
It was the same size as the library below, but by
no means so smartly furnished. The landlord had
put in the furniture, and Madrazo had taken the
whole thing for a few months. There were French
novels on the tables, a map of Peru on the wall,
and photographs over the mantelpiece. Evidence
of Madrazo's untidy habits could be seen in the dust
of the room, the table awry, and the litter in the
fireplace. Eixton, who was a particularly neat man
himself, shuddered at the cheerless look of the
place, and wondered how a man could live in such
discomfort.
Laying down the paper, he lighted the cigar,
which was a very good one, and strolled round the


A DUEL OF WORDS.
Ill
feet long, slender, sharp, and of a dull yellow hue,
graven lightly with symbols similar to those on the
exterior of the staff. Rixton examined in some
wonderment the metal of which this strange weapon
was formed. In his opinion it was gold; and the
appearance of both staff and dagger induced him
to think that he had held in his hands the sacred rod
of some Indian tribe. The oddly-carved stick might
be used for necromantic ceremonies, the golden
knife for sacrificial purposes. Probably it had be-
longed to the tribe by whom Bennett had been cap-
tured at the instance of his treacherous wife, and
he had secured it when he escaped from their
clutches.
But no barbaric sacrifice accounted for the rusty
brown stains on the blade—these were of recent
occurrence, and Rixton was certain that it was with
this weapon that Bennett had been killed. The
discovery narrowed down the number of those
who were probably guilty to two, namely, Mrs.
Brynmaur and Madrazo.
"No one could have made use of this weapon unless
they knew the secret," argued Rixton; "and to know
the secret that person must have seen the cane often
when in Bennett's possession. His short stay in
England prior to his murder forbids the supposition
that anyone here knew of the hidden dagger; so only
those who were acquainted with him in Lima could
have had knowledge of the secret. Now, Madrazo
confesses that he was a friend of Bennett's, and I
find this stick in his room; also, he had a duplicate
key whereby he could have entered the rooms below.



142 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
All things considered, it looks as though the man had
murdered Bennett. But why? I can see no motive,
unless it is to be found in Lima. There might be
a grudge—a quarrel, an enmity between the pair;
and coming face to face in the room below, Madrazo
may have killed Bennett. But, again, the man was
taken unawares; he was stabbed in the back while
seated quietly at the desk. This would show that he
either did not hear his murderer enter the library,
or that the pair were on friendly terms. Yet the
presence of this in Madrazo's rooms is very suspicious,
as also is his possession of a duplicate key. If
Madrazo is not guilty, who is?
"Mrs. Brynmaur! Humph! I am quite in the
dark regarding the position of that lady. She says
she was never at Lima—if she was never there she
could not have have met with Bennett. Yet Bennett
followed her here from her own house; and the chances
are that he met her in Conway's library. But why
should she kill him? What grudge could she have
had against him? Again, it seems to me that the
motive of this crime will prove to have come into
existence at Lima. If so, I may find it in Bennett's
diary.
"I shall have to deal carefully with Madrazo. He
ii a clever scoundrel, and will deny everything likely
to incriminate him. Luckily he does not suspect who
I am, and takes me for a harmless man of pleasure.
I shall not let on that I know the secret of the staff
or make any remark as to its having been in Bennett's
possession. Thus I shall puzzle him, and perhaps
throw him off his guard."


A DUEL OF WORDS. 143
While Rixton was thus thinking and looking at
the cane, Hadrazo, smartly dressed in a frock-coat,
light trousers, and patent leather boots, entered the
apartment. He started when he caught sight of the
staff in Eixton's hands, but recovered himself almost
immediately, and apologized for his lengthy absence.
Rixton foresaw that he had to deal with a subtle and
dangerous antagonist.
"I am despairing, Sir. Rixton," said the Peruvian,
taking a seat. "I very rude—oh, yes, but my
laziness, not dressed altogether. To-day—oh, yes; I
write letters to Lima to say I come back soon."
"Indeed!" observed Rixton, knocking the ash off
the end of his cigar, "you return to South America
shortly?"
"In one, two, three weeks. What I come to this
country for is all right. You permit me, Mr. Rixton,
I smoke."
The detective nodded his sanction to the request,
and prepared to open fire on his antagonist. "You
will be greatly missed by Mrs. Brynmaur?" he said,
suavely.
"Oh, yes! perhaps," said Madrazo, smiling
blandly; "she a great friend of mine."
"You met her in Lima, I believe?"
"Aha! that one leetle mistake, Mr. Rixton. I
say so, but I wrong; her sister I meet—oh, yes—
Senora Lola—not Mrs. Brynmaur. I tell you all
wrong. Aha, what pity I spoke so foolish."
Now Rixton did not for one moment believe this
assertion, although it coincided on all points with
that of Mrs. Brynmaur. If Madrazo had really met



TtiE CABBUNCLE CLUti.
the twin sister in Lima, he would have been undecided
a.? to the identity of Mrs. Brynmaur the first time
he spoke to her in English; and so would not have
lied as he had done. In place of deceiving the de-
tective, this fiction only showed him that there was an
understanding between the Peruvian and the lady,
whereby he was bound to indorse her statements.
What bond between them there might be, Eixton
could not conjecture; but for the sake of reassuring
Madrazo and extracting further information, he
feigned to accept the statement as correct.
"Yes! Mrs. Brynmaur told me the same thing,"
he said carelessly. "I suppose, being twins, the
sisters are very much alike?"
"That is it—oh, yes—no doubt," exclaimed the
other, eagerly. "So like—so like—I no tell Senora
Lola from Senora Maraquita for long time—no!
Tou understand?"
"Perfectly," replied Rixton; and, indeed, be under-
stood very well, but not in the way Madrazo thought.
Thereafter the conversation languished, and the
Peruvian thought to give it a fillip by making an
observation about the cane which Eixton still held
in his hands.
"That var' pretty," he said, touching it with the
tip of a long, yellow forefinger; "where you get it.
eh? I never saw stick like that before—no!
Itixton was so dumfounded at this audacious speech
that for the moment he hardly knew what to say. He
saw at once that the line of defence adopted by
Madrazo would be to deny all knowledge of the staff.
Yet he must have known that Eixton had found it in


A DUEL OF JTORDS.
U5
his room; and the detective was so irate at the
insolent coolness of the man, that he very nearly threw
all prudence to the winds and declared that he had so
found it. But a moment's reflection convinced him
that such an extreme course would be foolish, as the
time for throwing off the mask had not yet arrived.
He therefore held his peace as to finding it in the
rooms, and, more than that, he resolved to make use
of Madrazo's assumed ignorance to get the staff into
his own possession. To do so he lied with consum-
mate self-possession, and managed to succeed in his
object by sheer audacity.
"It is a queer stick, isn't it?" he said, lightly.
"Did you not notice that I carried it when I
entered?"
"Oh, no, sir! I saw an umbrella only."
"You are not observant, my dear Senor Madrazo.
I had this stick also." Madrazo nodded. He seemed
quite prepared to accept this statement as truth, and
neither winced nor changed colour. The detective
could not but admire his self-control.
"You had stick long?" was the Peruvian's next
question.
"A few weeks only; I got it from our mutual friend,
Conway. You know all poor Bennett's goods came
into his cousin's possession!"
"But! what—eh, Bennett—this his stick?"
stammered Madrazo, changing colour for the first
time.
"It was his, it is mine now. Perhaps you would
like to look at it."
Having recovered in some measure, the Peruvian
x


A DUEL OF WORDS.
U7
"Ha! I think you might tell me that, Senor
Madrazo."
The Peruvian expressed his utmost astonishment,
both in looks and gestures.
"I know nothing, Mr. Rixton! Yes! I would tell
you did I know anything. You ask Doolan."
"I don't see what he could say, Madrazo," said
Eixton, bluntly. "By your own admission the
wife took her husband to Cuzco and left Doolan
behind."
"He go after," said Madrazo, in some confusion.
"So you said; but he arrived to find them both dead
and buried. -Now, sir, you see, neither of them was
dead, so could not possibly have been buried."
"It strange—very strange! But what I know—you
know."
Rixton did not proceed in the examination, as ho
was unwilling to rouse Madrazo's suspicions as to
himself. However, he saw plainly enough that the
man was lying, and that something of which he was
cognizant had happened at Cuzco which he wished to
keep secret. The young man, having ventured far
enough for one day, rose to go, determined to
finish the conversation when he was more certain of
his ground.
"Well, senor," he said, taking the carved cane and
his umbrella, "both Conway and myself are deter-
mined to find out who killed Bennett. To do so we
may have to go to Cuzco."
"Oh! What for, Mr. Rixton?" cried Madrazo,
starting to his feet.
- "To find out the reason of this false report of



148 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
Bennett's death; to open that grave and see if the
coffin is full or—empty. I shall see you again, serior;
at present, good-bye."
The detective went out, and Madrazo was left alone,
looking grave with nervous fear.
"To open the grave!" he muttered in his own
tongue. "It is dangerous. I must see her and tell
all."



150 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
The reason was very simple. The diary was
written in Spanish, and Rixton was ignorant of that
tongue. Whether Bennett had noted down events in
the language by way of exercise, or whether he had
become so conversant therewith as to find it as easy to
write as in his mother tongue, it is hard to say.
Whatever reason had induced the choice, the diary was
written in Spanish, and Rixton had to get it translated
before he could acquaint himself with the contents.
At first he had intended to intrust the diary to Doo-
lan, as the servant was conversant with the dialect of
Peru; but on second thoughts he placed it in the hands
of a professor of foreign tongues, who would give a
quicker and more elegant translation. Busy with the
more important facts connected with the case, Eixton
had almost forgotten about the diary until reminded
of its existence by the conversation with Madrazo.
Then he went to his rooms to leave there the carved
staff; and afterwards he wrote a note to the professor,
telling him to finish and send along the translation
without further loss of time.
At his rooms Rixton found a message from Conway
stating that Darrel had gone out of town on the
previous day with Lena, and asking his friend to call
on him the next morning, as he had something
important to communicate.
Eixton smiled grimly at the intelligence about
Darrel, knowing well that, wherever the philan-
thropist went, he would be shadowed by a detective—
bound to Scotland Yard as it were by an invisible
chain. Then he sighed, thinking of Lena and of
the possible disgrace her father might bring upon her;


ANOTHER SURPRISE.
151
but tie thought was not connected with the Garry
Street murder so much as with Darrel's philanthropic
schemes and with certain moneys which had been
intrusted to his care.
After dispatching his business, Eixton changed his
dress for that which he usually wore while employed
on detective business, and went to see Crate at Scotland
Yard. He got his brother detective in a quiet room,
and settled himself for a long conversation. So
many thoughts were in his head, so much information
had he gathered, that he wanted a reliable confidant
with whom to discuss affairs. Crate was the safest,
bo with Crate he talked; and after telling him all that
he discovered, all that he had done, he invited his
opinion on the matter.
"There can only be one opinion," declared Crate,
mightily flattered at being appealed to; "the Peru-
vian murdered Bennett."
"It's easy saying, but harder proving that," replied
Eixton, drily. "I should like to know on what
grounds you base that opinion?"
"Grounds!" replied Crate, in astonishment.
"There are plenty of grounds. Madrazo knew Mrs.
Brynmaur at Lima."
"I agree with you there, as I don't believe the story
about the twin sister which the pair have agreed to
tell and stand by. Go on."
"Mrs. Brynmaur inveigled Miss Darrel into that
prank so as to get her in her power, by threatening
to blast her reputation if she did not give up
Conway."
"Quite true," assented Eixton, quietly; "Mrs.


ANOTHER SURPRISE.
153
"True enough."
"On the other hand," resumed Rixton, "the man's
demeanour was such that I cannot but think that
he was ignorant of the stick being hidden behind
the sideboard. Moreover, he let me carry it away,
although—supposing him to be the criminal—he must
have known that it was evidence against him."
"He did that to gain time," said Crate, "and ni
doubt he will clear out lest—suspecting your real
character on the grounds you have stated—you should
have him arrested for the crime."
"If he were to bolt, I could have him arrested.
Remember, he is being watched, and there is plenty
of evidence against him."
"To my mind the evidence is conclusive, Mr.
Rixton. I wonder you don't have him arrested at
once."
"I am not sure of his guilt, I tell you," responded
Rixton, in a vexed tone "I mistrust the evidence;
besides, there is a great deal for as well as agaiast
him. It looks black enough, I admit, but what is his
motive? A man does not risk his neck without a
strong motive. I can't find Madrazo's."
"Well, do you think Mrs. Brynmaur is guilty,
and that he is screening her?"
"The same difficulty arises there," said Rixton,
drily; "what is Mrs. Brynmaur's motive?"
"I can supply you with that."
"The deuce you can!"
"Mrs. Brynmaur wants to marry Conway," said
Crater with uplifted finger emphasizing every word.
"Conway would have been disinherited by the return
XT


ANOTHER SURPRISE.
155
a story is attached—a story he has frequently told
me as a proof of the gratitude and honesty of the
poor. It appears that, hy way of a test, he lent
sixpence to a shoeblack (on the understanding that
it was to be paid back). The shoeblack, who was
an honest lad, saved up his pennies, changed six of
them for a silver coin, and repaid the loan to Mr.
Darrel, who was so pleased that he kept the coin and
had his initials graven on it."
"But what has the story to do with the murder?"
"Everything! I find the sixpence in the library
the morning after the murder."
"Then you infer that Darrel was in the library
on the previous night and lost it?"
"Certainly! That coin must have dropped off
his watch-chain. I found it under the desk."
"But," asked Crate, "how could he have entered
the room?"
"Ah! that is what I wish to know. Madrazo
is the only man who has a duplicate key—Madrazo
is the only man who could have admitted him."
"For what reason?"
"I can't say yet," replied Rixton; "I am quite
in the dark as to Madrazo's motive—as to the motive
of our philanthropic friend. I only state facts.
Darrel was in the rooms on that night! Mrs. Bryn-
maur was there also—so was Madrazo. Now, which
of those three is guilty, or are all three innocent?"
"Don't ask me," cried Crate, with a shrug; "I
am as bewildered as you are. But you will know
soon if Madrazo is guilty."
"How so?"


166 TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Because if he is, and as he knows that the stick
is in your possession, he'll bolt."
At this moment Crate was called out of the room,
and Rixton was left alone to solve the many problems
which required solution. Theoretically, he could prove
all guilty—theoretically, he could show that all three
were innocent. Puzzled, confused, irritated, he did
not know what to do; and there seemed nothing left
but to wait for the discovery of new facts likely to
point to the truth. At present matters were at a
deadlock.
"Confound it," said Crate, re-entering the room
with a look of alarm. "Here's a nice thing—he's
bolted!"
"Madrazo?" cried Rixton, thinking that Crate's
prophecy had come true.
"Madrazo! No," replied Crate; "our philan-
thropic friend—Michael Darrel I"


CHAPTER XIX.
STILL IN THE DAEK.
Seeing that he rarely had an opportunity of startling
Rixton with the announcement of an unforeseen event,
Crate delivered the intelligence with a certain degree
of triumph. "Michael Darrel has bolted!" he
declared again, "and by this time he is on his way to
South America."
"And what about Garvey?" said Rixton, naming
the detective who had been looking after the
"philanthropist"
"He is in the next room, Mr. Rixton; he has just
brought the intelligence."
"Bring him in."
The man introduced by Crate was a sullen,
suspicious-looking fellow, whose face, with its turned-
up nose and heavy jowl, bore a certain resemblance to
that of a bulldog. He saluted Rixton moodily, and
stood silently before him with a look of dread; for all
those who had to do with the detective in a business
capacity were greatly in awe of his sharp tongue and
sharper dealings with cases of incompetency. Rixton
never lost his temper, never scolded; yet he was much


153 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
more dreaded than Crate, who stormed and swore at
his subordinates for the least error.
"So you are here, Garvey," said Rixton, in a mild
tone; and where is Mr. Darrel?"
"It wasn't my fault, Mr. Fanks—I couldn't
help"
"That is not the question, Garvey! Where is Mr.
Darrel?"
"He is on his way to Buenos Ayres, Mr. Fanks;
and I couldn't help it."
"Did he sail from Southampton by the Royal Mail
Steam Packet Line?"
"Yes, sir; he went in the Parania."
"When?"
"Yesterday at three o'clock."
"Indeed," said Rixton, ironically, "and you
inform me of this at five o'clock the next day."
Garvey twisted his hat round in his hands, and
looked shamefacedly at the floor.
"It wasn't my fault—I was drugged."
"Drugged by whom?"
"I don't know his name, sir—by a sleek, red-haired
chap, who looked as mild as milk."
Rixton drew a long breath of relief, as from what
Conway had written he expected that Lena's name
would have been mentioned. She had left town with
her father; and the detective knew enough of her
determination to believe that, to avoid the arrest and
disgrace of her unhappy parent, she would assist him
to escape. As to the man who had actually done so,
Bixton made further inquires later on.
"Before I make any remarks concerning your


STILL IN THE DARK.
1C3
incapacity," he said, quietly, "I should like to hear
the circumstances of the case. Go on, please; I am
all attention."
Garvey shifted uneasily from one foot to the other;
knowing Rixton, or rather Fanks, as he did, the
exordium sounded ominous. However, there was
nothing left for liim to do but to tell the best story he
could under the circumstances. He did not fear
Crate, who was looking indignantly at him, but he
dreaded the inquiring eye of Rixton. He, therefore,
stared steadily at the floor, and narrated his fiasco.
"It was this way, sir," he began, in a husky voice:
"I watched Kerrymore Gardens as you told me, and
for the last few weeks I kept an eye on Mr. D.
Yesterday, about noon, Mr. D. and Miss D. drove to
Waterloo Station, and he carried a small bag. I
thought he was trying to make a bolt of it, so I
followed. I saw my gentleman get into the train at
Waterloo, and I got a third-class ticket. I had a
smoking-carriage all to myself, but just as the train
started a man got in; fie was a smooth, clean-shaven
man, and as we were alone we got into conversation.
He said he was valet to a gentleman, and had travelled
a good deal"
"In South America, for instance?" interlocuted
Rixton.
"Why, yes, sir; he did talk of South America. Do
you know him, sir ?."
"I think so. Go on with your story, Garvey."
"Well, Mr. Fanks, he was good company, and told
good stories. He gave me a cigar, and when we got
nearly to Southampton, he said he wouldn't see me


160 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
again, .and offered me a drink of brandy out of his
flask. I didn't think there was anything wrong, so
I took a good pull, and by the time we reached
Southampton, I was fast asleep."
"So the brandy was drugged, eh, and your friend
got out at Southampton?"
"He did, sir. I found that out afterwards, but
then, when I woke, it was ten o'clock at night in the
railway station at Bournemouth. The guard found me
insensible in the carriage, and had me carried into
the waiting-room; it took them close on seven hours
to get me right again. Then I took a stiff dose of
brandy, and caught a train to Southampton."
"You had no doubt guessed what had happened?"
said Crate, gruffly.
"Yes, sir, the minute I knew about the drugging, I
guessed that the smooth-tongued scoundrel had been
paid by Mr. D. to get rid of me. When I got to
Southampton, I hunted for Mr. D., but couldn't find
him. This morning I was up early and went down
to the pier. There I found that the Parania had
sailed for Buenos Ayres, and that my man was on
board."
"How do you know that he was on board?"
"A shipping clerk told me. Mr. D. did not
disguise himself in any way, but went on board as
bold as brass."
"Under his own name?"
"No, sir. He took the name of Mr. Fairfax."
"Did Miss Darrel go also?"
"No, sir."
"Did your fellow-passenger?"


STILL IN THE DARK.
101
"No, sir. Mr. Darrel took no servant, but went by
bimself. I 'spose Miss Darrel and that man came
back to town."
"Why did you not report yourself before, Garvey?"
"Well, Mr. Fanks, I was Imnting Southampton for
information about Mr. D.'s bolting."
"I see," said Rixton, drily. "And you were locking
the stable door after the steed had been stolen. And
what do you think of yourself now. Garvey?"
The man turned red and shuffled with his feet,
when .Rixton resumed, in a pitiless voice: "Ycu are
evidently unsuited to your employment, my man. 1
gave you an easy task, which only demanded watch-
fulness, and you have bungled it thoroughly. I think
on the whole that you had better turn your attention
to other things."
"Am I dismissed, sir?"
"I have no power to dismiss you, as you know very
well," said Rixton, sharply; but I shall certainly
recommend your dismissal. You can go now."
Without attempting any defence, the wretched
Garvey left the room in disgrace. Rixton sat by the
table absently drumming on it with his fingers. On
the whole, he was not ill-pleased that Darrel had made
good his escape, and hinted as much to Crate.
"What, Mr. Fanks—beg pardon—Rixton," cried
that gentleman, "are ycu glad that this murderer has
shipped through your fingers?"
"I am not sure that he is the criminal, Crate. If I
were, you may be sure I would not take Garvey's
stupidity so quietly, and that I would find seme way
of putting salt on the tail of our bird."
x


102
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"But this flight proves his guilt."
"His guilt—yes; but not of the murder," replied
Rixton, readily. "There will be trouble among
philanthropists to-morrow, Crate; for, unless I am
sadly mistaken, Mr. Darrel has embezzled a lot of
trust funds and bolted to South America, to enjoy
them."
"Do you know that for certain, Mr. Rixton?"
"That is a difficult question to answer, Crate.
I am as certain as one can be of anything in this
world. When, by picking up that engraved six-
pence I found that Mr. Darrel had come into the
case, I hunted about to learn all I could concerning
him, so as to discover if possible whether he had any
motive to murder Bennett. I ascertained that his in-
come was much less than the world gave him credit for
possessing; that he was up to his neck in debt; and
that he was spending a great deal of money. To
account for this latter, I made further search, and soon
learned that the money he spent was not his own; also
that he looked after certain trust funds of various
charities. By putting two and two together, I guessed
what he was up to."
"Why didn't you split on him, Mr. Rixton?"
"I had not sufficient proof to do so. His flight
will bring all his delinquencies to light; he is an old
scoundrel; but I am sorry for Miss Darrel."
"But if he has nothing to do with the murder,
what was he doing in that room?"
"It is my opinion that he was there by accident,"
said Rixton, doubtfully. "I think also that he
followed Mrs. Brynmaur."


STILL IN TUB DARK.
10J
"What for?"
"Well, you see, Crate, Mrs. Brynmaur is a very
rich woman, so to gain an income, Mr. Barrel wished
to marry her. Perhaps he desired also to get her
into his power; and watched her to such purpose
that he tracked her to Conway's rooms. I've no doubt
he designed the same business with her as she intended
with his daughter. I really don't think he killed
Bennett."
Crate rubbed his hair, and looked dolefully at
Rixton, who still preserved an unruffled calm. "I
don't know what to say," he declared; "the evidence
is strong against Madrazo; it is stronger against
Mrs. Brynmaur; and it is strongest of all against
Barrel. Tet you don't seem to think any of them
guilty."
"I don't say that."
"Then one of the three must be guilty!"
"I don't say that either."
"Then what do you say, Mr. Rixton?" cried Crate,
in desperation.
"I say that there is another person mixed up in
the matter, whom we have yet to find. Mrs. Phorney
told me that a man hammered at the door on that
night, looked down the area steps, and altogether
conducted himself in a mysterious fashion. Now,
I believe that this is the man we want, but I am
willing to change my opinion if I see good reason
for it."
"But the man tried to enter and could not. If
he killed Bennett, he must have been admitted by
Madrazo."


164 TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Undoubtedly! Whoever did commit the crime,
there is no doubt that Madrazo made use of the key
to admit the assassin. But," added Rixton, reflecting,
"for all that, Madrazo may have acted in all
innocence, and may be unwilling to admit his folly
lest he should be accused of the crime."
"Mr. Rixton, will you tell me who you think killed
Bennett?"
"Mr. Crate," said Rixton, buttoning up his coat,
"I shall not tell you. From the first I have had
my suspicions, but I sha'n't open my mouth till the
assassin is in gaol."
"I don't understand you, Mr. Rixton."
"I understand myself very well," was the
dry retort.
"Do you think you'll nab this unknown
criminal?"
"Yes," said Rixton, slowly, "I think I can safely
say that. Unless the unforeseen throws everything
out of gear, as the unforeseen is apt to do, I hope to
run down the assassin in a month."


CHAPTER XX.
MES. BETNMAUR's "AT HOME."
In the maze in which he was wandering, Rixton
still held by the carbuncle clue. Thereby he hoped
to make a final discovery, which should result in a
successful termination to the case. The oddity of
the ornament, the curious fact that it had been worn
by a man, and the engraving of a weasel on the stone
itself; all these points led him to attach what was,
perhaps, undue significance to the bauble. Bennett
had not been so effeminate a man as to wear it for
mere ornament; therefore, argued Rixton, it must
have been worn for some purpose. "Was that purpose
political?
South America is a hot-bed of revolution. Barely
a year passes without the deposition of one President
and the elevation of another; the various republics
are mostly trying experiments in government, and in
every State, whether it be Chili, Peru, Brazil, or
Venezuela, there is ample opportunity to be found for
the formation of societies hostile to the prevailing
power. Since the war with Chili, Peru had not been
without political disturbances, and although he was
unaquainted with the state of things in the capital,


166 TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Rixton felt perfectly certain that at Lima, as else-
where, an ambitious adventurer could gain partizans,
form a party, and attempt to overturn the Govern-
ment. A restless man like Bennett would not he
likely to lose such a chance of enjoying himself and
of giving rein to his turbulent spirit, so Rixton felt
confident that he had joined one of these secret
societies. The weasel is an emblem of sleepless
vigilance; the redness of the carbuncle stone is
significant of blood—therefore the detective, wrong-
fully for all he knew, believed that the bangle was a
secret sign symbolical of the particular society to
which Bennett belonged.
Granting this fact, it might follow that the murder
was due to political influence; that some man, or
men, in Peru wished for the removal of so dangerous
a character as Bennett, and had caused him to be
assassinated. It was Rixton's belief that the man seen
by Mrs. Phorney was the emissary from Peru; that
he had called to see Conway in the hope of finding
Bennett with his cousin, since it was natural that the
relations should come together at the first opportunity.
Unable to obtain admission, the stranger had waited
about for the return of Conway; but on seeing
Bennett follow Mrs. Brynmaur upstairs, he had gone
after the pair, and then and there he had murdered
his victim by stabbing him in the back.
"It is only a theory," mused Rixton, "and to
believe in it, I have to abandon my first theory—the
one I formed in Conway's rooms. But it certainly
appears to me to be a political crime. Mrs. Bryn-
maur and Madrazo may, or may not, be mixed up in


ICS
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
hostess, who was robed regardless of cost, and
scintillated with diamonds. She was vivacious and
sparkling, as usual, but, with characteristic keenness,
Rixton noticed that she was anxious and perturbed;
that her mask of gaity was not so cleverly worn as
usual; and that only her strong self-control, prevented
utter collapse. At first he ascribed this uneasy
demeanour to her implication in the Garry Street
murder; but when he intercepted a look which she
darted at Madrazo, who stood near, he was satisfied
that her trouble was caused by that gentleman. The
look expressed her thorough hatred and detestation of
the Peruvian.
On the other hand, Madrazo was unusually gay,
and wore a triumphant look as though he had pulled
off some great coup. He greeted Rixton with the
greatest confidence and friendliness, so that the
detective was quite easy in his own mind that Madrazo
was still ignorant of his true profession. This con-
firmed Rixton's hitherto doubtful belief: that
Madrazo was unaware that the carved staff had been
found by the young man in his rooms. Yet, if
Madrazo had not hidden it behind the sideboard, who
had done so?
"Mr. Conway is not with you, I suppose ?" said Mrs.
Brynmaur, as Rixton made his bow. "I thought he
would have come with you."
"To tell you the truth, I expected to find him here,"
replied Rixton, politely, "but I have no doubt he will
come in later on. Who can keep away from Benedict
Square, with so charming a hostess?"
Mrs. Brynmaur smiled in a haggard fashion, and


170
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Certainly not. I am no advocate of black-
mailing."
"Then what is my friend to do?"
"Confess."
Mrs. Brynmaur shuddered and turned pale under
her rouge. "Impossible," she murmured. "The
the risk is too great."
"I don't think so, if the lady is innocent."
"Ah, Mr- Rixton, innocent people have been
condemned and punished before now."
"True enough," assented Rixton, 'but you know
the popular proverb about the frying-pan and the fire.
Would it not be better for your friend to suffer at
once, rather than to involve herself in fresh troubles."
"Perhaps," said Mrs. Brynmaur; "the price is
high."
"Is the price to be paid in money?"
"No, not in money. I wouldn't mind that—I
Ah!" said Mrs. Brynmaur, conscious that she had
betrayed herself, "you see I speak of myself; it is I
who am in trouble. I feel—but no more at present.
This is neither the time nor place to discuss the matter.
I go out of town to-morrow for a week. At the end
of that time, come and see me here. You will be my
friend, Mr. Rixton?"
"I shall do all I can to help you Mrs. Brynmaur."
She gave him her hand, with a grateful smile, and
glided away to meet, and welcome, a newly-arrived
guest of some importance. Left to himself, Rixton
leaned against the wall, and thought over the fore-
going conversation. It was easy to guess that Mrs.
Brynmaur referred to Madrazo, and to the fact that


MRS. BRYNMAUR'S "AT HOME." 171
she had placed herself in. his power by that foolish
visit to Conway's rooms. It was a case of the biter bit,
for Mrs. Brynmaur, in designing the trap for Lena,
had unconsciously fallen into the one set by Madrazo.
He could force her to pay any price he pleased, by
threatening to implicate her in the murder, although
to do so he would be compelled to incriminate himself.
If Mrs. Brynmaur had been in the Garry Street rooms
on that fatal Wednesday night, Madrazo must have
been with her, since none but he could have admitted
her into the library. But Rixton was convinced that
the Peruvian was too desperate a man to think of his
own danger, and that he would fall with Mrs.
Brynmaur, rather than fail to make use of his hold
over her. The question was: What price did he
demand to keep silence?
Before Eixton could think of a feasible answer to
this question, Madrazo himself approached and tapped
him on the shoulder.
"You have no pleasure," he said, gaily; "you all
alone. Come, let us talk."
"By all means," replied Rixton, who wished for
nothing better. "I have long wanted an opportunity
to converse with you."
"Aha, and what to talk of?"
"Of that folded paper you gave me which contained
the name of Horace Bennett. I wish to learn all
about that carbuncle bracelet."
"Eh, what can I say?" replied Madrazo, shrugging
his shoulders. "Bennett, my friend, used that brace-
let in Lima. I know no more. Because of bracelet
I know his name; yes, it is now easy, you see."


172 TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Has the bracelet any meaning?"
"What? No; I no understand. How you speak.
Ver* nice bracelet to wear."
"A man does not usually wear a bracelet."
"Eh, oh, I see—yes—it's a woman's—oh, yes. A
woman gave it to him."
"A love token," said Rixton, in a disappointed
tone; I thought it was something more."
"Bah! No. He say to me, a woman give it him—
yes—that is all."
The man appeared to speak in all good faith, yet
Rixton had an uneasy conviction that he was lying.
However, he did not see how he could get at the truth
at the moment, therefore he changed the conversation
by a remark on Mrs. Biynmaur. All the same, he
determined to drive Madrazo into a corner before
leaving him. This object was defeated by a startling
piece of information conveyed by the Peruvian, which
turned Rixton's thoughts in another direction.
"Ah, yes," said Madrazo, in answer to Rixton's
remark about their hostess. "She so pretty—oh,
sweet and nice—I pleased you admire, Mr. Rixton."
"Why should you be pleased?" asked the other.
"What, you not told? All talk of it. Mrs. Bryn-
maur to be my wife—yes!"
"Your wife?"
"Yes, she marry me."
"Ah," thought Eixton, smilingly congratulating
the man. "I know now the price paid for your
silence."


in
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
professional name mentioned, turned round anxiously
and angrily. He recognised the speaker at once.
"Duncan! Back in England! This is a surprise."
Duncan was a little, sandy-haired Scotsman, in the
detective line of business, who had transferred his
talents to the States some years before. He was
singularly clever in his profession, and in former days
he had worked frequently and amicably with Rixton,
whom he only knew under the name of Fanks.
What he was doing at Mrs. Brynmaur's Rixton could
not think, but to explain his change of name, he
drew Duncan swiftly aside into another room, wherein
smoking was permitted. Here he seated his com-
panion on a convenient sofa, supplied him with a
cigar, and prepared to take him into his confidence,
at least, so far as the substitution of Rixton for
Fanks was concerned. There was no time to be
logt in putting matters on a proper footing between
them.
"So you're back from the States, Duncan?"
"That's so, Fanks," replied Duncan, on whose
speech Americanisms had taken effect. "I'm round
here on a little matter of business, Fanks."
"I say, Duncan, don't call me Fanks at present.
Here I am Rixton."
"Oh! you're on business too."
"Yes. Fanks isn't known west of Trafalgar
Square. At present I am an idler with an income,
by name Octavius Rixton, and I live in Duke Street,
St. James's. How much of this is true doesn't
matter. You call me Rixton, and give an account
of yourself."


A MYSTERIOUS INDIVIDUAL. 177
recovering his serenity of temper. "I shall be glad
of your assistance to enlighten me on several points.
How long have you been hunting Ward?"
"Four years."
"What? It's about time you gave it up as a bad
job!"
"I very nearly did once or twice," said Duncan,
laughing; "but I don't mind telling you, Iiixton,
that I've got a soft thing on. Don Juan, my
employer, is a millionaire, and pays like a prince.
He got me from the States, and told me to find the
man who killed his brother if I hunted for a century;
that is why I have held on to the thing. But I've
found out that Ward is in London. I saw him, as
I told you, and I'm going to run him down, you bet.
Another bit of business I've on, connected with the
same affair, is a search for a paper."
"What kind of a paper?"
"Oh, a memorandum made by Don Felipe—the
man who was killed. It has to do with some silver
mines the old fellow hankered after, and it is either
in the possession of Ward or of Bennett."
"But Bennett is dead," said Rixton, rather puzzled
to see this possibility.
"I know that. I see you're mixed; so I'd better
tell you the whole yarn, then you may size up how I
stand—how you stand—and all about it."
"One question before you begin, Duncan. Do
you know the meaning of that carbuncle bangle?"
"Of course, sir. It's the badge of a vigilance
society formed in Lima six or seven years ago, to
hunt down a band of murderers who were killing
z


1-'
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
people right and left. Bennett was a member of
that society, and wore the bangle."
"Ah," said Eurton, drawing a long breath, "I
thought as much. Oh, there is no doubt that the
motive of the murder will be found in Peru."
"Well," drawled Duncan, reflecting, "I shouldn't
be surprised if you were right."
"Go on with your story, Duncan," said Rixton,
impatiently. "I'll know that by the time you
put me in possession of all facts."
"I'll get it hunched up as small as possible,"
said Duncan, delicately. "About seven years ago,
this company of thieves and murderers started, and
Ward was of the number. They robbed houses and
killed people, and did it all so cleverly that the law
couldn't strike them nohow. To meet the emergency,
this vigilance society was formed, and Bennett joined
it. The society took as its badge the carbuncle with
a weasel graven on it, as a sign of sleepless vigilance."
"As I thought," murmured Rixton. "I bog
pardon, Duncan; go on."
"It was also a secret society, you see," resumed
Duncan, "so that the thieves shouldn't know with
whom they had to deal. The bangle was the sign by
which members recognised one another. The society
hunted out nearly all the scamps, and got rid of them
one by one save Ward, who was, and is, the worst of
the lot. I came into contact with him when he
nnirdered Don Felipe."
"Why did he murder Don Felipe?"
"I guess that's another yarn," said Duncan, re-
flectively. "Don Felipe picked up an old Indian in


A MYSTERIOUS INDIVIDUAL. 179
a dying condition among the mountains, and looked
after him till he passed in his checks. Out of
gratitude, the Indian told him about some wonderful
silver mines which had been worked by the ancient
Peruvians; and Don Felipe noted down the locality
on a sheet of paper. That's what I'm looking for."
"Do you think Ward has it?"
"I can't say. He tried to get it from Don Felipe,
who foolishly spoke about it instead of holding his
tongue. "Ward killed the old man, but was inter-
rupted in the business by Bennett, and made off.
Now, I don't know whether Ward got the memo-
randum, or if the old man gave it to Bennett before
he died, along with the staff."
"The staff?" repeated Rixton, sitting up quickly.
"A carved staff with an ebony head?"
"Yes. It is an Indian conjuring stick, with a
gold knife inside to kill victims to the gods. The
old Indian who died gave it to Don Felipe—it came
to him from his ancestors, I guess. Have you seen
it?"
"Yes; it is in my possession. In my opinion,
Duncan," said Rixton, solemnly, "that golden dagger
was used to kill Bennett."
"I'm not surprised," replied Duncan, stolidly.
"Bennett got it from the man Felipe, along with the
silver mine memorandum. I don't care a hang
about the first, but I wa^t the second for Don Juan,
my employer."
"But if Bennett had the memorandum, why didn't
he give it to Don Juan?"
"Because, just after he interrupted Ward at his


ISO
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
killing, he fell ill of fever, and his wife took him off
to Cuzco."
"I know that; and afterwards his wife reported
him dead while she got him carried off into the
interior by Indians. He escaped from there, and
came home to die."
"Wonder if he brought the memorandum along
with him?" observed Duncan, thoughtfully.
"Did you ever see the wife—Mrs. Bennett?" asked
Rixton, suddenly.
"No. I believe she is a pretty, dark woman; but
all these senoritas are like one another. I can guess
her style—black eyes, languid glances, coquetry, and
devilment."
"And Ward, what is the appearance of Ward?"
"He's a tall man, with a yellow face, black hair,
and a thin, straggling moustache."
Rixton rose excitedly. The description exactly
fitted Matlrazo. Could it be that he was Ward, that
he had killed Don Felipe, and afterwards Bennett,
to gain possession of the silver mine memorandum?
Here was a motive—a strong motive for the crime.
Grasping Duncan's arm, Rixton drew him into the
drawing-room.
"What's up?" asked Duncan, leisurely submitting.
"Do you see that man yonder?" said Rixton,
indicating Madrazo, who stood beside Mrs. Brynmaur,
receiving the congratulations of his friends. "Is
that Ward?"
"No!" said Duncan, promptly; "it's like him,
but it ain't Ward."
-


CHAPTER XXII.
a daughter's devotion.
The next morning Rixton kept his appointment with
Conway, and arrived at Garry Street between eleven
and twelve o'clock. As usual, he was stopped at
the foot of the stairs by Mrs. Phorney, who seemed
to be constantly lying in wait to interview him. On
this occasion her fat, red face wore an expression of
profound solemnity, and she advanced to deliver her-
self of a weighty sentence.
"Mr. Rixtons," she said, in a frightened whisper,
with an anxious glance around, "I've seen 'im."
"Seen him! Seen what?"
"The gent as looked down the airy, as 'ammered
at the door on that night."
"Pooh! If you didn't recognise him then, you
couldn't do so now," said Rixton, with good-natured
scorn.
"I speak jennyrilly," replied Mrs. Phorney, with
great dignity. "The gent who 'ammered were tall
an' black; the gent as I sawr las' night go upstairs
are tall an' black. Somethin' 'ere," added Mrs.


1S2
THB CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Phorney, tapping her heart, "tells me the pair is
one. I could take my alfred-david on it."
"Tall and dark," replied Rixton, recalling
Duncan's description of Ward. "At what hour did
you see him last night?"
"Arf-pas' ten," replied the caretaker. "I met
'im plump 'ere in this 'all, as I came up to close
the street door. He says never a word, hut glides
upstairs like a shaddar. My blood congealed with
'orror."
"Why did you not stop him and demand his
business?"
"He went past so quick, Mr. Rixton. An' I
couldn't say, 'You're an airy sneak,' could I?"
"I suppose you couldn't. No doubt he went up
to see Mr. Conway."
"No, sir, Mr. Conway was out, so was the ground
and second floorer; only Mr. Madrazo were at 'ome."
"Ah! So you think he was visiting Mr.
Madrazo?"
"Well, sir, I listened, and I 'arked, and I went
to bed with my ears ready; but I couldn't 'ear 'im
come down. Then I fell asleep, so) no doubt
'e were with Mr. Madrazo, who let him out
late at night."
"That is probably the ease. There is no need for
you to distress yourself, Mrs. Phorney, so far as I
can see. This stranger tried to get in on that night
because he wanted to see Mr. Madrazo—last night
he was visiting him. There is nothing in these
actions to connect him with the murder."
"P'r'aps, sir; but I feel 'ere—in my 'eart, as


rA DAUGHTER'S DEVOTION. 183
the dark gent's a vill'in, a regular Adelphi dramer
vffl'in."
Rixton laughed at her fears, and went slowly up-
stairs, thinking over the intelligence so unexpectedly
obtained. He was by no means inclined to make so
light of it as might be thought, for, as he had stated
to Crate, he was convinced that there was an unknown
individual connected with the tragedy who had not
yet appeared. From the story told to him by Duncan,
he was inclined to believe that this mysterious person
was none other than Ward, the desperado for whom
the American was searching. The description given
by Mrs. Phorney corresponded to that of Ward, as
described by Duncan. Ward had tried to enter the
chambers on the night of the murder, supposing him
to be the same man, and perhaps, according to
Bixton's theory, he had waited about till the arrival
of Bennett, and had then followed him upstairs. The
murder would follow as a matter of course.
"As to motive," thought Rixton, "there is no
doubt that Bennett interrupted Ward before he could
rob Don Felipe of that silver mine memorandum.
The old man no doubt gave it to Bennett along with
the Indian staff, so probably Ward followed Bennett
from Peru, and murdered him in order to get that
paper. I wonder if he was successful in obtaining it; I
rather think not, as he would then have cleared out
to Peru, in order to make use of the information and
find the silver mine. Here he is visiting Madrazo,
so that argues failure."
According to Mrs. Phorney, no one had been at
home on the previous night save the tenant of the


184 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
third floor, so the visit of the supposed Ward could
only have been paid to him. This supposition did
not increase Rixton's respect for Madrazo, and it
was evident that the Peruvian was connected in some
way with the desperado. Duncan had not identified
Madrazo with Ward—he had not even recognised
him; but for all that it was not impossible that
Madrazo might be a member of the band which had
been hunted down by the vigilance society at Lima.
Altogether, Rixton considered that the outlook was
brighter than usual, for with the appearance of Ward
in the affair, matters seemed to be coming to a crisis.
When that arrived, Rixton wondered if the person he
designated in his own mind as the assassin would turn
out to be guilty.
But why had Ward sought out Madrazo—about
what did they converse? Rixton thought that an
answer might be found to these questions in the
unexpected engagement of Mrs. Brynmaur to
Madrazo. So far as he could see, the unfortunate
woman was in the toils of these two scoundrels. As
to what connection she had with Bennett, the detec-
tive hoped to learn that from her own lips the ensuing
week.
To Rixton's surprise, the door of Conway's
chambers was opened by that gentleman himself
instead of by Doolan. He seemed rather discon-
certed at seeing Rixton, and hastened to explain his
reason for such extraordinary conduct.
"I expect Lena—Miss Darrel," he said, hesitating;
"and when the bell rang I thought it was she. Come
in, Rixton, I am glad to see you." -


A DAtGETER'S DEVOTION. 185
"You have a strange way of showing it," said
Bixton, drily, and followed his friend into the library.
"I suppose your useful Doolan is in the kitchen?"
he added, glancing round.
"Why do you call him the 'useful Doolan'?"
said Conway, not liking the tone of the other's
voice.
"Because he is so clever in circumventing the law,
in dogging detectives, and aiding escapes."
"llixton!"
"Conway!" said Rixton, severely, "you are not
treating me fairly. I stood by you when you were
in trouble, and extricated you from a very unpleasant
position. In return you play tricks on me and thwart
my schemes."
"You have a right to blame me, I know," muttered
Conway, in a low tone; "but I never intended to
keep you in the dark. I asked you here this morning
to explain."
"Indeed! When it is too late!"
"Dbrrel's escape won't hurt you in the slightest,"
protested Conway. "He had nothing to do with the
murder of Bennett."
"If he had not, why was he in the room on that
night?"
"Lena will explain; she is coming here especially
to meet you and tell all. Ah!" cried Conway,
breaking off, "there she is. Now, Rixton, you will
hear the truth."
While Conway was absent Rixton revolved these
words in his mind: "The truth," he thought, "what
truth? Am I about to learn who killed Bennett?


186 THE CARBVNCLE CLUE.
Was Darrel an eye-witness to the crime? Does he
hope to excuse his flight by to-day's confession?"
He found no answer to these questions, and Lena,
escorted by her lover, entered the room while he was
still thinking. She was dressed in black, and looked
pale and worn, while the redness of her eyes showed
him that she had been weeping. With a weary sigh,
she bowed in answer to Rixton's salutation, and sat
down in the chair pushed forward by Conway. A
silence ensued, broken at length by the girl herself.
"Gerald tells me that you know of my father's
departure," she said, in a low tone.
"Yes; the detective, Garvey, who was watching
him, told me of the clever manner in which he had
been hoodwinked by Doolan. You have acted
wrongly, Miss Darrel."
"What else could I do?" she rejoined, passion-
ately. "Long, long ago, I lost all respect for my
father; but I could not stand idly by and see him
arrested."
"No," assented Rixton, with some hesitation; "as
a daughter, I suppose you could not act in any other
fashion. But how did you know that he was
watched—that he contemplated flight?"
"I knew nothing until three days ago," replied
Lena; then my father confessed all to me. He said
that he had spent moneys which did not belong to
him; that he could not make them good; that he
had to account for them next week, and that he would
probably be arrested for embezzlement."
"I thought as much," said Rixton, with a nod.
"Did he know that he was watched?"


CHAPTER XXIII.
THE DEAD MAN'S DIAEY.
Immediately after the interview in which Lena had
succeeded in establishing the innocence of her father,
Rixton received the translation of Bennett's diary.
Inflamed by his suspicions of Hadrazo, perplexed by
the story of Duncan, which completely upset his early
theory, he eagerly perused these records of the dead
man's life in Peru. Therein he found the solution
of many mysteries which had puzzled him; and some
missing links in the chain of evidence were supplied;
but notwithstanding all his research, he was unable
to discover anything likely to point to any one person
as the murderer of Bennett. That crime still remained
a riddle.
After reading the diary over once, he again
perused it for the sake of noting down certain
facts which seemed to bear directly on the murder
in Garry Street. He found the story of Duncan
confirmed in every particular, and gained some
valuable information regarding Julius Ward. The
language of the diary, whether due to careless writing


10J
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
or to being translated freely, was by no means marked
by elegance or grace of style. The whole composition
bore marks of its origin, for it was only a series of
notes hastily set down at odd times. The particular
portions which interested Rixton were as follows. It
is unnecessary to put in the dates, as these, even in
the diary itself, were frequently left out, and, in the
present instance, they will not throw further light on
the subject-matter in hand.
The earlier part of the diary recorded Mr. Bennett's
travels in Mexico and South America; told of his
arrival in Peru, and his residence in Lima; but the
first item of interest, at all events in Rixton's eyes,
was a description of the lady he afterwards married.
It must be premised that the following extracts refer
to events extending over seven years: —
*' Certainly Mercedes Velez is a most charming
girl; a sparkling brunette with large, dark eyes,
and the most bewitching smile. She inclines rather
favourably towards me, although she has another
admirer in the person of Manuel Madrazo. However,
I don't think I need be afraid of him, as he bears a
very bad reputation, and old Velez certainly would
not permit his daughter to marry such a creature.
Hitherto, I have always determined to remain a
bachelor, and to let the Barnleigh estates pass to my
cousin Conway, although he is quite a stranger to me.
If anyone could persuade me to change my mind it
would be this delightful little senorita
"At last I am successful. After five months of
ardent courtship I have succeeded in gaining the
hand of Mercedes. She has promised to be my wife,


THE DEAD MAN'S DIARY. 191
and in a fit of rage Madrazo has already left Lima.
I believe he has gone to Cuzco, amid the mountains;
he may stay there as long as he pleases, for I am to
be married to Mercedes in three weeks' time. I
sha'n't inform anyone in England of my marriage,
as I am so much in love with Peru and its delightful
climate that I intend to remain here
"Married and done for. I little thought I should
find a wife in a quarter of the world so far removed
from England—and such a wife—an angel! I am
afraid Conway won't come in for the Barnleigh
estates after all ... . What a rage he would
be in if he knew of my last exploit .... Saw
old Don Felipe Tejada this morning. He is just back
from the interior, and told me a long and romantic
story about an aged Indian and a silver mine. It
seems that he succoured a native who was dying of
starvation; but notwithstanding all his care the man
died. Out of gratitude he gave Don Felipe his staff,
and told him of a rich silver mine formerly worked
by the ancient Peruvians. The staff is a queer
conjuring thing—all carved and coloured in a most
barbaric manner; it has a golden dagger hidden in
it, either for defence or for sacrificial purposes. I
don't think the dagger is pure gold, as it would be
too soft. There is, I fancy, a good deal of alloy in
it
"I have been most unlucky at cards. Last night
I lost five hundred to an American called "Ward—
Julius "Ward—who hails from "Vera Cruz; at least,
that was the last place he was kicked out of. A
dangerous, clever scoundrel, and far too smart at


192
TEE CAEEUNCLE CLUE.

euchre. He plays as well, if not better than
Madrazo, and that is not saying a little, as I quite
look on Madrazo as a sharper. Ward cleaned me
out, and also Lechmere, a young English fellow who
lately arrived here. Lechmere is a nice sort of chap—■
goodlooking and reckless no end of
money ....
I really think women are possessed by evil spirits.
I am sure Mercedes is. I thought her a quiet,
domestic angel, but she turns out to be a coquette of
the most pronounced description. Madrazo is hovering
round again, and I believe Mercedes encourages him.
I gave the rascal a good thrashing. I'm half sorry
I married; but she is so pretty that I forgive her
every time. I suppose I am, as she says, too
jealous
"It's Lechmere new. Confound the fellow; I wish
he wasn't so handsome, or Mercedes so suscep-
tible He is always hanging round the
house. I taxed Mercedes with letting him make love
to her. She denied it. I can't trust her
"Mr. Julius Ward is making things unpleasant for
himself. Already he has been in two rows over cards,
and now he has been arrested for robbery. I hope
he gets gaoled for a few years; it would be good for
himself, and much better for society. He has been
trying to buy from Don Felipe the information as to
the whereabouts of the silver mine spoken of by the
old Indian, but Tejada won't part. He's trying to
get money to fit out an expedition to look for the _
mine. If it wasn't for Mercedes, who keeps me in a
perpetual state of jealousy, I'd join the expedition.



191 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
been seen and recognised twice or thrice, engaged in
these desperate adventures. I should like to catch
him, if only to punish the rascal for swindling me at
Ci*rds "Ward's fame as a scoundrel is
interesting; he is now captain of these robbers, as
his talent for villainy is so great
Mercedes is quite estranged from me, and, I shrewdly
suspect, she hankers after Lechmere .... He
has gone to Cuzco with Madrazo, bound on some
expedition into the interior. Perhaps they have gone
to look for Don Felipe's silver mine ....
'- Such an adventure. I was returning home
through the Calle Pizarro when I heard cries for help.
Suspecting that these murdering scoundrels were at
their foul work, I whipped out my six-shooter, and
raced for the noise. Two men were struggling
together, one upon the ground, the other holding
him by the throat. This was directly under a lamp,
and I recognised Ward and Don Felipe. I closed
with "Ward and tried to throw him, but he was too
slippery for me and got away; as he moved off I
fired, but failed to hit him. The sound of the shot
brought round a crowd, and Don Felipe was taken
into the nearest house. I am afraid the poor old
man will die, as he has a knife-thrust between his ribs.
Left him with the doctor
"Next day Don Felipe sent for me. I felt very
ill with some kind of feverish attack, but, unwilling
to disappoint the dying man, I managed to crawl
as far as the Calle Pizarro. Don Felipe thanked me
for helping him, and said "Ward had attacked him
to get the memorandum of the whereabouts of the


TEE DEAD MAN'S DIARY. 195
silver mine. Luckily, I arrived before he could kill
Don Felipe and go through his pockets. In return
for my help, Don Felipe gave me the memorandum,
and said I could find and take possession of the
mine. I suggested Don Juan as the rightful
heir, but Don Felipe, not being on good terms with
his brother refused to listen to me. He also gave me
the Indian staff, which I shall keep as a curiosity.
It is not every day that one comes across so interesting
a relic of a dead and done with civilization
I feel very ill, and I can hardly enter up these events
of the day. I am afraid an outbreak of fever is about
to lay me on the broad of my back
"The fever of the past few weeks has left me as
weak as a child, yet here I am at Cuzco. Mercedes
would insist upon bringing me here, as she thought
the air would cure me. The journey hither was
terrible, but to oblige Mercedes, who is now quite her
old affectionate self, I made an effort, and came.
Lechmere and Madrazo are at Cuzco .... I
wish they were not, as I am too weak to look after
Mercedes ....
"She has deceived and deserted me. I fell into
a swoon, and during its continuance she betrayed me
into the hands of the mountain Indians
Here I am cut off from civilization, a prisoner in the
mountains, while the traitress is, no doubt, back in
Lima, with Lechmere. I must try and escape, but
it will be difficult, for the Indians are vigilant, though
kind
"Nearly a year of captivity, and I am still a
prisoner I am allowed to wander, but


CHAPTER XXIV.
THE MISSING LINK.
It was not difficult for Rixton to see that he would
have to take Duncan completely into his confidence.
Duncan was hunting Ward, and "Ward—as Rixton
began to suspect—had more to do with the Garry-
Street murder than appeared at first sight. In what
way may appear from a conversation the two detec-
tives held a week after Rixton became acquainted
with the contents of Bennett's diary. He had just
shown Duncan the extracts therefrom, and had asked
his opinion. This the American detective quickly
gave.
"I don't see that the diary helps you much," he
said, promptly. "There does not seem to me to be
much connection between Bennett's doings in Peru
and his death in England."
"The carbuncle bangle was"
"Was worn by the dead man. Granted. What
does that prove? Merely that he was connected with
the vigilance society."
"Precisely, and as a member of the society, he
was bound to hunt down all thieves and assassins."
"He did that—in Peru."
"He was doing so—in London, when he died,"



188
THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
retorted Rixton, smartly. "A sojourn in tie
Americas has not improved your wits, Duncan. The
case is as clear as crystal to me."
"The deuce it is," replied Duncan, nettled by the
implied slight; "perhaps you will explain."
"Willingly, especially as I want your assistance."
"To do what?"
"To hunt down "Ward."
"I'm doing that on my own account," said Duncan,
coolly; "or, rather, on behalf of Don Juan. But why
bring Ward into the matter?"
"If you weren't an owl you'd see why. I
have a shrewd suspicion that Ward knows of this
murder."
"Oh! Do you infer that he killed Bennett?"
"Well, I might even go so far as that," replied
Rixton, meditating, "but I am not sure. I could
make up a very good case against him—on purely
circumstantial evidence."
"You could? State your case."
Rixton carefully chose a cigar from his case bit
off the end, and lighted it before making answer.
The pair were conversing in his Duke Street rooms,
and taking the freedom of an old comrade, Duncan
mixed himself a glass of whisky and salutaris. Thus
busy he did not interrupt Rixton, who took a turn
up and down the room, deep in thought. When he
arranged his ideas he forthwith communicated them
to Duncan.
"You'll see that the clue spins out very prettily,"
he said, blowing a cloud of smoke. "Our friend
Ward seems to be a determined sort of ruffian, bent


THE MISSING LINK.
199
on making his fortune at other people's expense. lie
tried gambling, thieving, murder—all no good; so,
on hearing that Don Felipe possessed a memorandum
of the whereabouts of a rich silver mine, he resolved
to get possession of it. First he tried persuasion to get
it from the old man; afterwards he resorted to murder.
Fortunately he was interrupted in the business by-
Bennett, who succoured Don Felipe, and obtained the
memorandum as his reward. To continue in the
present tense. Before he can make use of it, he is
carried off by the Indians at the instance of the
charming Mercedes. Among the mountains he meets
with Ward. Ward tries to kill him. In this, as
you see by Bennett's diary, he is thwarted by the
Indians. After a captivity of four years, Bennett
escapes, comes to London with the memorandum,
and is followed by Ward. The rest you may guess.
Ward knows the secret of the carved staff—as you
can read in my notes—and kills Bennett with it.
The only question now is whether his third attempt
to get the paper was successful. For my part I think
it wasn't."
"Why not?"
"Because Ward would have cleared back to Peru.
Instead of doing so, he hangs about London looking
for another chance to get the paper. I don't know
who has it now, since it wasn't found on Bennett's
dead body; but he who now owns it will be murdered
sooner or later."
"By Ward?"
"Exactly. By Ward. Now then, Duncan, what
do you think of the case as stated by me?"


200 THE CABBUNCLE CLUE.
"I think your imagination is wonderful, old
chap."
"Imagination, forsooth! I speak facts, sir, facts!
facts! facts!
'I know you do, and combine them into a
harmonious whole by the exercise of your imaginative
brain. Your case is excellent, but—it won't hold
water."
Rixton laughed, and resumed his seat. "You
don't say so?" was his remark. "Well, persuade me
into changing my opinion; if I am wrong—which
I confess I frequently am—I am always open to
conviction."
"I must first tell you Ward's history from the
time he left the Indians," said Duncan. "Don Juan,
in the interests of his dead brother, found out all
about it. Ward came back in disguise to Lima, and
extorted money from Lechmere and Mrs. Bennett,
who were then married, by threatening to tell that
he had seen Bennett alive among the Indians.
Lechmere was astonished, as he really believed
Bennett dead, but infatuated with the lady, he bribed
Ward to silence. That gentleman went off to Chili,
where there was some fighting. Afterwards he
turned up at Callao and again in 'Frisco. He crossed
from there to the Islands, passed on to Sydney, and,
doing no good anywhere, came home to England."
"After Bennett?"
"No, that's where you are wrong. He couldn't
have known of Bennett's escape unless he had
returned to Peru. I have traced his wanderings,
and he did not double on his trail. He came to


THE MISSING LINK.
291
London, from Australia, simply to wring more money
out of Mrs. Lechmere, late Mrs. Bennett, nee
Mercedes Velez."
"Humph! your story doesn't fit into my theory."
"It upsets it altogether. You can see plainly
that Ward could not have killed Bennett because
he did not know he was in England. You must
fix on some other person to be the murderer."
"Well!" said Rixton, glancing at his watch.
"I guess my only chance of contradicting your story
is to get more information. I am about to do so
from Mrs. Brynmaur."
"What does she know?"
"That's what I want to find out," replied Rixton;
"she may not know much, but at all events, she may
tell me the reason why Bennett followed her to
Garry Street on the night of the murder."
"Will she tell?" said Duncan, sceptically.
"I'll make her. She promised last week to confess
to me, as she is under the impression that I can stop
this marriage with Madrazo, and give her Conway
for a bridegroom. Such a supposition is, of course,
quite wrong, as I have no power over the Peruvian,
and Conway is safely engaged to Miss Darrel. How-
ever, the misapprehension may entice Mrs. Brynmaur
into telling me a good deal."
"No doubt; but it won't entice her into incrim-
inating herself."
"Perhaps yes, perhaps not. I can hold my own
with most women, so I don't suppose this frivolous
little widow will prove an exception."
Duncan shrugged his shoulders and said no more.
0 0






THE MISSING LINK.
Talking gaily, with an apparent effort, she gave
Hixton tea in the most fragile of cups, and altogether-
acted as though she had not a care in th&. tjotVL TLer.
visitor grew weary of the way in wtx^*^^ avoidecL
the main point of the interview, oX^- broached trxe>
subject himself, with no regard for b.e*~ feelings.
"Are you still engaged to Senor Aiadrazo?" be
ashed.
She turned even paler than usual, and nodded.
All her attempts at frivolity fo$a.ppeared, Iinea
appeared round her mouth, and the lips set firmly.
The transformation amazed her visitor; for in. place*
of the frivolous little widow, he now bebeld t*.
determined and despairing woman. Mrs. Brynmaur'
in her new character was dangerous.
"Iam still engaged," she said, with a long-draw^
breath, "but it will not he for long—if you will hel^
me."
"I don't see now I can, Mrs. Brynmaur," replied
Uixton, carefully feeling his way.
"Advise me, Mr. Rixton. That is all I asl^.
Advise me how to get rid of this—this—villian."
"Oh! Is he as bad as tnat?"
"Worse. He is a liar, a card-sharper, a bully—
a thief."
So I understand. You are telling me nothing
new."
Mrs. Brynmaur looked at him in surprise. "How
do you know?" she demanded; "you have never
been- in Peru, and Senor Madrazo has been careful
of his behaviour since he has been in London."
Hixton looked closely at her, so as to observe tbe






CHAPTER XX*.
MILS. BRYNMATjIt'S STOSY.
Fob. some moments Mrs. Brynmaur looked at Rixton
with a dazed expression, and pushed back her hair
with both hands. The young man did not alter Ma
position, but repeated the name in a low voice.
"I know you now—Mrs. Bennett."
"With a rush the blood came back to her face, the
courage to her heart. She rose hastily to her feet,
and addressed him calmly. Knowing the worst, she
was prepared to meet it.
"Mr. Rixton—why do you call me other than my
name?"
"The name you bear is not your name. You
married your second husband before your first was
dead. Tour second husband died before your first.
You are not Mrs. Brynmaur: you are Mrs. Bennett.'
She bit her nether lip at these merciless words, and
moved slowly back to the chair whence he had borne
her a few minutes previously. "I am not Mrs.
Bennett. I don't j^qw wh.0 you are talking of," she
said dog-gedly.











MBS. BBYNMAUB'S STOBY.
hated him. He was a worthless, drunken scoundrel -
he struck me; look at the mark. I got rid of him as
I best could. Many another Spanish- "^oman. woul«l
have killed him. I spared his life."
"H'm! I'm not so sure of that."
"Do you accuse me of murder?"
"I accuse you of all things, until 5^<m confess the
truth."
"I shall not confess. I shall tell everyone that you
are a detective."
"Indeed, you shall do no such thing," said Hixton,
quietly. "To force your confidence, I have beerx
obliged to tell you my secret; but you forget that X
know yours. Tell mine, and I am shunned—tell
yours, Mrs. Bennett, and you are in danger of being,
hanged.
Notwithstanding all her self-control, Mrs. Bryn.^
manr could not suppress a start of terror at thes^
ominous words. She was well aware of the dangerou^
position in which she stood; and in her ignorance of
English customs, half believed that Rixton could-
then and there bear her to prison. Once between
stone walls, and how could she prove her innocence?
^be thought of her peril brought her to her knees.
■ What am I to do ?—to say? Mr. Rixton, have
mercy on me. I am in your power, and in the power
of Madrazo!"
I will rescue you from his power, if you tell me
the story of that night."
"Yes, yes, listen. I will tell all—all."
6ie was now frantic with terror, as though she
already felt the rope encirc]e ier g]ender throat.
D P

r









MBS. SRYNMAVB'S STOBY 213
"No, Mr. Rrxton, I did not. I saw no one but my
husband!"
"Who followed you from Benedict Square in a
cab?"
Mrs. Brynmaur sprang to her feet in a violent rage.
""Why should I tell you more?" she cried. "You
know all."
"Not all," corrected Rixton, gently; "relate the
events of that evening from the time you left this house
to destroy the reputation of Miss Darrel."
Still standing, with tightly folded hands, Mrs.
Brynmaur obeyed. "I understood from Lena that
she would go to Gerald's rooms about eleven. I
appointed that hour to meet with Mr. Darrel at Garry
Street.
"Bid he know why you wanted him?"
"No! I refused to tell him that. Afterwards he
told me that he had misunderstood the time, and went
away thinking I did not intend to come."
"So he did," said Rixton. "Mrs. Phorney saw
him. Go on."
"Madrazo had given me the key," continued Mrs.
Brynmaur, "but he refused to accompany me into the
rooms, as he thought it best that I should be alone
with Lena. Shortly after eleven I drove up to the
door of the house, and admitted myself with the key
lent by Madrazo."
"Did you know your husband was following?"
"No! I did not even know he was in England. I
left the lower door unlocked, so that I could retreat in
case of necessity. I entered Conway's rooms, and in
the library I sat down before the desk, where I saw


304 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
effect of his next remark. "I have read about our
friend," he said, calmly, "in the diary of Horace
Bennett"
He waited for a reply; none came, and he was soon
aware that Mrs. Brynmaur had quietly fainted. The
proceedings of Rixton at this crisis were most
extraordinary. Instead of ringing for assistance, he
picked up the little woman, and carried her to a seat
near the window. There he carefully examined her
face and smiled.
"I was certain of it," he said, in a gratified tone,
and took some water from a flower vase near at hand
to sprinkle on her face. In a few minutes Mrs.
Brynmaur came to with a sigh, and opened her eyes
to look at Rixton in a terrified manner. For the
moment she did not know where she was, and gasped
out an inquiry.
"Be calm," said Rixton, slowly. "You are all
right—you are in your own house—Mrs. Bennett!"



CHAPTER XXV.
Mas. beykmatie's stohy.
Foe. some moments Mrs. Brynmaur looked at Rixton
■with a dazed expression, and pushed back her hair
with both hands. The young man did not alter his
position, but repeated the name in a low voice.
"I know you now—Mrs. Bennett."
"With a rush the blood came back to her face, the
courage to her heart. She rose hastily to her feet,
and addressed him calmly. Knowing the worst, she
was prepared to meet it.
"Mr. Rixton—why do you call me other than my
name?"
"The name you bear is not your name. You
married your second husband before your first was
dead. Your second husband died before your first.
You are not Mrs. Brynmaur: you are Mrs. Bennett.''
She bit her nether lip at these merciless words, and
moved slowly back to the chair whence he had borne
her a few minutes previously. "I am not Mrs.
Bennett. I don't know who you are talking of," she
said doggedly.


TIIE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"I employed no one. "When I last saw my husband
he was as whole and healthy as you are."
"When did you last see him?"
"In Gerald Conway's rooms."
"Ah!" said Rixton, in a tone of relief, "now we
are coming to the truth at last. I thought you would
have denied that."
"And if I had, Mr. Rixton—since you call yourself
so—who could have contradicted it?"
"I could; I know you were in the library on that
night. I traced you by the scent 'Hitu' which
impregnated the blotting-pad."
"Lena Darrel also had that scent," said Mrs.
Brynmaur, making a fight for it; "I gave her some."
"On Thursday; the crime was committed on
"Wednesday."
"You are a good bloodhound, Mr. Rixton," she
retorted, scornfully; "you have thought these
matters out well before attacking me."
"That is true; I have enough evidence against you
to have you arrested."
"What of that? I can justify myself."
"Scarcely," retorted Ilixton, with emphasis, "or
you would hardly have bought Madrazo's silence at
the price of marriage."
"How dare you insult me?" cried Mrs. Brynmaur,
rising. "If you can harm me, I can do the same to
you. How will all your friends hold themselves
towards you when they know the truth?"
"You should rather ask the question in reference to
yourself, Mrs. Bennett."
"Don't call me by that name," she flamed out. "I


MRS. BRYNMAUR'S STORY. 209
hated him. He was a worthless, drunken scoundrel;
he struck me; look at the mark. I got rid of him as
I best could. Many another Spanish woman would
have killed him. I spared his life."
"H'm! I'm not so sure of that."
"Do you accuse me of murder?"
"I accuse you of all things, until you confess the
truth."
"I shall not confess. I shall tell everyone that you
are a detective."
"Indeed, you shall do no such thing," said Rixton,
quietly. "To force your confidence, I have been
obliged to tell you my secret; but you forget that I
know yours. Tell mine, and I am shunned—tell
yours, Mrs. Bennett, and you are in danger of being
hanged.
Notwithstanding all her self-control, Mrs. Bryn-
maur could not suppress a start of terror at these
ominous words. She was well aware of the dangerous
position in which she stood; and in her ignorance of
English customs, half believed that Rixton could
then and there bear her to prison. Once between
stone walls, and how could she prove her innocence?
The thought of her peril brought her to her knees.
"What am I to do?—to say? Mr. Rixton, have
mercy on me. I am in your power, and in the power
of Madrazo!"
"I will rescue you from his power, if you tell me
the story of that night."
"Yes, yes, listen. I will tell all—all."
She was now frantic with terror, as though she
already felt the rope encircle her slender throat.
D D


210 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Ordinarily the little woman was brave enough, and
gifted with great self-control; but the nearness of the
peril, whence she saw no way of escape, frightened her,
and to purchase safety she was willing to agree to any
terms, even the most humiliating. Rixton soothed
her.
"There is no need to be afraid, Mrs. Brynmaur.
Act honestly towards me, and you will find that I can
be a good friend. I have no wish to treat you harshly,
but I wish to know the truth. Here, drink this cup
of tea, like a good lady, and tell me why you went to
Garry Street, and what you did there."
Dominated by his air of command, Mrs. Brynmaur
shivered, and drank the tea. In a few minutes she
was fairly composed, and at once related all she knew.
The recital gave Rixton considerable satisfaction.
"You know the early part of my life," said Mrs.
Brynmaur, feverishly. "I was born in Mexico City,
and went to Lima with my father. There I met with
and married Bennett; he treated me cruelly and I
hated him. Lechmere—as he was then—behaved
kindly towards me. and I loved him."
"What about Madrazo?" asked Rixton, bluntly.
"He wanted to marry me also," replied Mrs.
Brynmaur, "but I never loved him—never. When I
met with Lechmere I fell in love with him; my hus-
band kept us apart, so I rid myself of him in the way
you know. Madrazo helped me to have him carried off
by the Indians from Cuzco. He thought I would then
marry him, but I married Brynmaur."
"Lechmere!"
"No. He had taken his new name when we


MRS. BRYNMAUR'S STORY.
211
married at Lima. He thought that my husband was
dead. I showed him the certificate, and sent it home
to Mr. Conway."
"What about the certificate of your death?"
"The same man forged both," replied Mrs. Bryn-
maur, coolly. "I wished to cut with the past, and,
thinking that my husband would never return, I
pretended that we both had died. In the cemetery
of Cuzco you will see a! tombstone erected to
the memory of Horace Bennett and of Mercedes,
his wife."
"That was very ingenious," said Rixton, "and you
are a very wicked woman."
"I hated Bennett and loved Lechmere," replied
the lady, as though that were an answer to his remark.
"When I was living at Lima as Mrs. Brynmaur an
American called Ward turned up. He had met with
Horace among the mountains, and threatened to
denounce me as a bigamist. My second husband
bribed him to silence, after which we sailed for
England. Here Mr. Brynmaur came in for his
property, but died twelve month afterwards leaving
me a widow. You know my life since then."
"I know most of it," said Rixton, drily; "but not
that portion relating to the murder."
"I'll tell you about that," answered Mrs. Brynmaur,
nervously; "and you will see that I am perfectly
innocent. Senor Madrazo came to London, and
renewed his addresses to me. I declined to marry
him, as I was in love with Mr. Conway."
"I know that, Mrs. Brynmaur."
"You seem to know everything, Mr. Rixton," sht


212
THE CARBUNCLE CLVE.
retorted. "Madrazo was living in the same house
with Mr. Conway."
"How did that come about?"
"I don't know; he refused to tell me. As you
know, Lena Darrel was engaged to marry Mr. Conway,
and I wished to break it off. I thought if I could
get her into a compromising situation, that I could
then threaten to shame her if she did not give up
Conway."
"I wonder you are not ashamed to confess such
unwomanly conduct," said Rixton, with some heat.
"You said I was to tell all," rejoined Mrs. Bryn-
maur, stolidly. "I don't care what you say now; I
have gone too far to feel shame. But to continue:
I suggested to Lena that she should visit Conway's
rooms at night, intending to take her father there and
show him how badly his daughter was behaving. I
thought he might forbid the match."
"I know all that. Also that Darrel wished to
marry you for your money; that he gave you his
celebrated sixpence, which you lost in Conway's
Ubrary."
"You know a good deal," she retorted, trying to
conceal her astonishment, "but you do not know how
I got into Mr. Conway's rooms?"
"Yes, I do. Madrazo gave you a duplicate key.
"Ah! you know that? Yes; he did give it to me,
so as to get me into his power."
""Why did Madrazo have that key made?"
"I don't know; he did not tell me."
"H'm, I must find it out from him. Did you see
Madrazo on that night ?."


MRS. BRYNMAVR'S STORY,
213
"No, Mr. Bixton, I did not. I saw no one but my
husband!"
"Who followed you from Benedict Square in a
cab?"
Mrs. Brynmaur sprang to her feet in a violent rage.
"Why should I tell you more?" she cried. "You
know all."
"Not all," corrected Rixton, gently; "relate the
events of that evening from the time you left this house
to destroy the reputation of Miss Darrel."
Still standing, with tightly folded hands, Mrs.
Brynmaur obeyed. "I understood from Lena that
she would go to Gerald's rooms about eleven. I
appointed that hour to meet with Mr. Darrel at Garry
Street.
"Did he know why you wanted him?"
"No! I refused to tell him that. Afterwards he
told me that he had misunderstood the time, and went
away thinking I did not intend to come."
"So he did," said Rixton. "Mrs. Phorney saw
him. Go on."
"Madrazo had given me the key," continued Mrs.
Brynmaur, "but he refused to accompany me into the
rooms, as he thought it best that I should be alone
with Lena. Shortly after eleven I drove up to the
door of the house, and admitted myself with the key
lent by Madrazo."
"Did you know your husband was following?"
"No! I did not even kDow he was in England. I
left the lower door unlocked, so that I could retreat in
case of necessity. I entered Conway's rooms, and in
the library I sat down before the desk, where I saw


211
TEE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
her letter. I read it; she had come and gone, so for
the moment I did not know what to do. Then I took
the letter, thinking I would make use of it to break off
the marriage by a threat of exposure. "Why I did not
use it, you know."
"You were afraid of being implicated in the
crime?"
"Yes. I wrote a note to Gerald, and placed it on
the blotting-pad where Lena's had been—then I left
the library and opened the outer door. The electric
light was burning both in the library and in the hall.
I supposed that Lena had left it on, so I did not turn
it off."
"Go on," said Rixton, seeing her hesitate.
"I stepped outside the door of the rooms," said Mrs.
Brynmaur, "when a man sprang forward and dragged
me into the hall. I recognised him at once, and
shrieked. It was my husband—exactly as I
remembered him at Lima—clean-shaven and cruel-
looking."
"Oh, I see," murmured Rixton; "he shaved off
his beard so that you should recognise him. And
afterwards?"
"I don't know what he said—what I said," she
replied; "I was stunned, bewildered as by an
apparition. He accused me of meeting a man."
"Did he know where he was?"
"No! He did not know that his cousin owned the
flat. He had a stick—a carved stick with him, and
threatened me with it. I fled out of the door, and I
heard him rush through the rooms to the library to
find the man he thought I had met. To prevent his


MRS. BRYNHAUR'S STORY.
215
following I closed the door of the chambers, the door
of the street, and ran along Garry Street. At the end
I found a hansom and came home."
"And the murder?"
"I know nothing more, I swear it," said Mrs.
Brynmaur, with emotion. "The last I saw of my
husband he was running towards the library. Next
morning I saw that he had been murdered, and, afraid
lest I should be implicated in the crime, I held my
tongue."
"Did Madrazo accuse you of the murder?"
"Yes. He had given me the key; he knew that I
had met with my husband on that night, in that room,
and so he had me in his power. To prevent exposure,
I promised to marry him."
"Do you swear that all you have told me is true?"
"I swear it," cried Mrs. Brynmaur, vehemently.
"I did not kill him; I do not even know of the weapon
with which the murder was committed."
"Do you suspect Madrazo?"
"I did; but he denied coming downstairs. Still,
he might have killed him."
"With what motive?"
Mrs. Brynmaur hesitated. Madrazo might have
come downstairs on hearing me shriek," she said,
"and have waited at the door. When my husband
could find no one in the chambers whom I could have
met, perhaps he rushed outside and came face to face
with Madrazo. In a fit of rage, on recognising my
old admirer, he might have tried to kill him, and have
been killed himself. I can account for my husband's
death in no other way."


216 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
Rixton rose to Mb feet to take his leave. "You can
rest content that all will yet be well," he said, con-
solingly. "I think you are a wicked woman, but I
do not think that you killed your husband. Wait in
peace here, and do not worry yourself until I see you
again."
"Where are you going now?" asked Mrs.
Brynmaur, anxiously.
"I am going to force the truth from Madrazo,"
replied Rixton, and thereupon left the room.


CHAPTER XXYI.
THE SECEET OF THE STAFF.
On leaving Mrs. Brynmaur, the detective went direct
to Ms chambers in Duke Street, with the intention of
thinking over the affair as it now stood, before calling
on Madrazo. He made himself comfortable in au
armchair, and lighted his pipe to assist his
meditations. These were not of the pleasantest
description; for Mrs. Brynmaur's confession had com-
plicated instead of smoothing matters. For the Life
of him, Bixton could not clearly see what would be
the end of the case.
"I wonder if my first impression was correct," he
soliloquized, leaning back to stare meditatively at the
ceiling. "Many circumstances have arisen sinci
then, which tend to alter it. Tet I cannot help
thinking that I am right; that I would do wrong to
clange my opinion. There is a clear chain of
evidence up to a certain point; beyond it another
chain ending at the murder; but the link to connect
this chain and that is missing. Where can I find it?"
E E


219 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
The answer to this question did not present itself,
and to quicken his thinking powers, he walked slowly
up and down the room. Darrel had cleared himself
of complicity in the crime; Mrs. Brynmaur had done
the same. Rixton saw no reason to disbelieve either,
especially as their denials fitted in with his conviction.
Since these two were innocent, and Conway was also
guiltless, his suspicions could only be directed against
Ward and Madrazo. So far as ho could see, one of
the pair must have murdered Bennett.
With respect to the first, it was difficult to connect
him with the murder. If Ward had never returned
to Peru—and Duncan asserted as much—he must have
been ignorant of Bennett's escape from captivity and
of his presence in London. Assuming this, he could
not be guilty. It was true that Ward might have
found out Madrazo; equally true that Madrazo
lived in the floor above Conway; but the presumption
that Ward could have come into contact with Bennett
was difficult of belief. The coincidence of such a
meeting would be too great. Therefore, at present,
Ward appeared to be guiltless.
On the other hand, there was a strong motive for
Madrazo to commit the crime. This scamp had been
an old lover of Mrs. Brynmaur, and for years he had
wished to be her husband. The fact that she was now
a wealthy widow, and he still a poor man, would
certainly not have damped his ardour. To get Mrs.
Brynmaur into his power he had lent her the dupli-
cate key of Conway's rooms, with the intention of
exposing her, unless she married him, in the same way
she had intended to expose Lena. The murder had


THE SECRET OF THE STAFF.
221
"Humph,," sniffed Duncan, disbelievingly; "I
don't agree with you."
"It was hidden behind the sideboard, Duncan,"
explained Rixton.
"By himself, I guess."
"I don't think so."
"Oh, you make me tired," cried Duncan, angrily;
"if Madrazo didn't put it there, who did ?."
"What do you say to Ward?"
"I say—rubbish! Ward didn't know Bennett was
in England."
"Neither did Madrazo, till I mentioned the car-
buncle bangle to him; then he knew. But
look here, Duncan, is it likely that Ward visited
Madrazo?"
"I think it very likely, indeed," rejoined Duncan,
drily; "so likely that I have been haunting Garry
Street to pick him up, if possible."
"How do you think that he found Madrazo out?"
"I guess that's easy, Rixton. Ward knew Mrs.
Brynmaur's real name in Lima, so he soon found
her in the fashionable world here, and I have no
doubt blackmailed her. If he found her location
3011 bet he soon looked up Madrazo, who is always
hanging about Benedict Square."
"Well, we will presume for the sake of argument
that Ward does visit Madrazo," said Rixton, coolly.
"He might have been there on that night, have
killed Bennett, and taken the stick back to Madrazo's
rooms."
"Scarcely, since you say yourself that Madrazo had
given his duplicate key to Mrs. Brynmaur."


222 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"True enough; I confess I am puzzled. I don't
see how Ward could have got into Conway's rooms
on that night. By the way," added Rixton, with an
afterthought, "is there any mark by which you can
recognise Ward?"
"Two marks, each easy to spot. He has an
anchor tattooed on his right arm between the elbow
and the wrist, and the little finger of the left hand
is missing."
"The deuce!"
""What's the matter now?" asked Duncan, staring
at Rixton, who was pacing excitedly to and fro.
"I see it all; I have been right all along."
"Don't understand."
"Duncan," said Rixton, pausing before him, "come
and see me the day after to-morrow, and I'll deliver
Ward into your hands."
"Caesar! Do you know where he hangs out?"
"I think so: I'm not sure; now don't ask any
more questions. I refuse to answer until I work out
my plans."
"Very well, Rixton. I guess I can go nap on
your smartness. But see here, I called round to look
at that stick."
Without a word, Rixton went into the next room,
and brought the staff. "Why do you wish to see
it? " he asked, placing it in Duncan's hands.
"I've been thinking about the missing memo-
randum, and I fancy I know where it is," replied
Duncan, unscrewing the ebony knob, and drawing
forth the dagger.
Rixton looked at him with some anxiety, and


MADRAZO AT BAt.
225
Worst. On the -whole, I give the palm to "Ward—he
is a clever scoundrel, and makes catspaws of the other
two."
There was something in the fact that the man who
had killed Bennett with the golden dagger had held
in his hand the staff containing the reward of his
villainy, and did not know it. No doubt he had
searched in Bennett's pockets, but had failed to find
that for which he had risked his neck. Evidently
he had never thought of examining the hollow of
the staff as had Duncan, and so he had committed—
as far as recompense went—a useless crime. Rixton
laughed at the simple way in which the villain had
been foiled, and had not ceased smiling by the time
he arrived at Madrazo's door, somewhere between
eleven and twelve.
The Peruvian was at breakfast, and saluting Rixton
with assumed heartiness, asked him to partake of the
meal. Rixton, who always liked to discharge his
business in a friendly fashion, accepted a cup of
coffee and a cigar; after which he buried himself in
a comfortable armchair, listened to Madrazo's
chatter, and watched for an opportunity to declare the
object of his mission. The host was gay and proud,
for he was exceedingly pleased with his success in
wooing and winning Mrs. Brynmaur. As he talked,
ftixton could not help thinking of a proverb anent
pride going before a fall; it was excellently illus-
trated in the present instance.
"Ah! yes," cried Madrazo, belauding the charms
of Mrs. Brynmaur, "she is a ver' pretty lady—so
sweet, so—what you say?—so sparkle. When we
F F


TIIE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
many, I take her to Lima. Ah, yes! the lovely
city. We weel be so 'appy, me and my Mariquita."
"Mariquita, eh?" said Rixton, seeing a chance
of striking a blow; "how strange that you should
call her Mariquita, when her name is Mercedes."
Madrazo was not renowned either for courage or
self-control, and dropped his knife when he heard
this remark. His sullen face turned green, and he
could hardly stammer out his answer.
"What! yes—you say, Mercedes. Eh! who told
you Mercedes?"
"Herself."
"The deuce!" muttered Madrazo, in his own
tongue, "why did she do that?"
"Come, Madrazo, speak English. I don't under-
stand the lingo of Don Quixote."
"H'm! H'm! ver' good, yes. Oh, Mr. Rixton,
her name Mercedes, yes, Mariquita Mercedes."
"Mariquita Mercedes Velez," said Rixton,
amiably; "a pretty name, Madrazo."
"Dios!" thought the Peruvian, "how much does
he know?" but he said nothing, and looked at his
guest with wide-eyed alarm.
"Our English names are so much prettier than
your Spanish ones," continued Rixton, keeping his
victim on the rack; "I know Mrs. Brynmaur thinks
so.
"Eh! eh, for what—why you say that?"
"Because she has tried three of them. Though
really," added Rixton, meditatively, "I think Velez
is a more charming name than Brynmaur, or Lech-
mere—or Bennett."


MADBAZO AT BAY.
227
This last remark brought Madrazo to his feet, and
he made a dive in the direction of the detective. That
gentleman did not move, but quietly continued his
smoking.
"You know! you know!" stuttered Madrazo.
"Hadn't you better sit down, Madrazo?" said
Rixton, pointing to a chair. "You can talk so much
better sitting than standing. Not that I ask you
to talk. On the contrary, I wish to tell you a
story."
"I no want to hear."
"Oh, yes, you do—it's a very interesting story—
so sit down and listen."
Rixton raised himself up, and spoke in so peremp-
tory a manner that Madrazo was cowed, and flung
himself sulkily into a seat. There he wiped
his face, stealing glances at Rixton, and looking
excessively uncomfortable. Not knowing the extent
of Rixton's knowledge he wisely held his peace,
hoping to learn his adversary's hand before displaying
his own.
"On second thoughts, I don't know that I shall
tell you the story," said Rixton, after a pause. "You
know it as well as I do, so you would only be bored
by a repetition. Besides, it would only give you
pain, raking up your very discreditable past."
""What you mean, Mr. Rixton?" cried Madrazo,
in a fury. "Ia gentleman—a captain in the army
of Peru"
"And a bully—a blackleg—a swindler, sir—for all
I know, a murderer."
"A murderer! You tell a lie."


MADRAZO AT BAT.
229
"Perhaps not," replied Rixton, with perfect good
humour; "however, we need not discuss that point
now. I wish a little information from you."
"I have no thing to speak."
"Indeed! Then Mrs. Brynmaur must he mis-
taken. She told me a good deal about you yesterday
—and there was also an account of your life in the
diary of Mr. Horace Bennett."
"I have done no wrong."
"Don't you call getting a duplicate key to another
man's rooms wrong? We do in this country, Senor
Madrazo. Now, then, senor, why did you want that
key?"
"I no tell."
"Indeed you will, or it will be the worse for you.
I have but to inform the police of what I know, Senor
Madrazo, and you will be put in gaol."
Madrazo trembled like the coward he was. He
could bully Mrs. Brynmaur, and all women, excel-
lently, and had no mercy on their terror and tears;
but when it came to his own turn, he disliked the
operation exceedingly. The commanding tone taken
by Rixton frightened his craven heart, and after a
few attempts at bluster he gave in with unexpected
suddenness.
"I tell, but you no friend of mine, Mr. Rixton."
"I hope not," replied Rixton, affably. "Your
character is not a pleasant one. Mrs. Brynmaur
said you were a bully; in Bennett's diary I learn
that you are a coward. I don't want your friend-
ship, my good fellow, but I do want your information,
so you will be pleased to answer a few questions,"


230
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
The Peruvian nodded. Like Mrs. Brynmaur, he
was ignorant of English law, and thought that Rixton
could denounce him to the police. His conscience
was an uneasy one, and there was many a little
episode in his past life which he was by no means
willing should be submitted to the merciless eyes of
the authorities. Eixton found him easier to deal
with than he expected.
"About the key?" he asked, sharply. "Why did
you get it made?"
"To enter Mr. Conway's house."
"For what reason?"
"There was a map—plan of a silver mine"
"I know of that," interrupted Rixton. "The plan
given by the Indian to Don Felipe Tejada. "Ward
murdered him for it, and he gave it to Bennett. So
you wanted that, Senor Madrazo?"
"Oh, yes; Bennett; his papers sent to Mr. Conway
by the wife. I thought map among them. I came
here to this house to find map if I could."
"Hum! You thought Conway had it. So that
was why you took lodgings here, and got the dupli-
cate key?"
"Oh, yes; but I no find map. I look when Mr.
Conway and Doolan out. I find no thing—no! Mr.
Conway, he hide it."
"Mr. Conway did not hide it."
"What, sir? You know of it?" cried Madrazo,
looking up eagerly.
"Never you mind," replied Rixton, drily.
"Neither you nor your friend, Ward, will ever
get that memorandum. The silver mine is not


MADRAZO AT BAY.
231
for you, or for him. Anid now, about this
Ward?"
"I know nothing of him," said Madrazo, sulkily.
"I friend of Ward in Lima; for years I know not of
him."
"That's a lie, my friend. Ward has visited you
in these rooms.'!
"No!"
"Yes!" retorted Rixton, sharply. "I know more
than you think, senor. Ward is wanted in Peru for
the murder of Don Felipe. A detective from Lima
saw him in London—saw him in Garry Street, when
he came to see you."
"He have seen me—yes! But where he is; why
ask me?"
"Because to let us know where he is, senor, is your
only chance of saving your neck."
"What? Ah! my neck," cried the Peruvian in
turn; "but I no kill Bennett. I no go down to the
rooms then; Mrs. Brynmaur there, Bennett there.
I not there."
"You'll find it hard to persuade a jury of that,
Madrazo. I know you did not kill Bennett, else 1
would have had you locked up long ago. But the
carved stick containing the dagger with which the
man was killed was found in your rooms."
"I never saw stick—I swear."
"I know you never saw the stick, but for all that
Ward brought it into your rooms, and hid it behind
that sideboard."
"Ward come here? Yes, ver' often. He might
bring stick."


232 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"I am sure he did," replied Rixton, quickly, "and
I am sure that Ward killed Bennett."
"He no say that to me," said Madrazo, whose face
-was now of a leaden hue.
"Ah ! you refuse to incriminate Mm. Well, intro-
duce me to the gentleman himself, and I'll prove to
you that I am right."
"No, no. I can do not that."
"Very well, scnor," said Rixton, rising. "I'll go
at once and inform the police that you are mixed up
in this murder. The evidence against you is very
strong."
"Do go not," cried the wretched creature, seizing
Rixton by the coat-tails; "I swear I no know if
Ward kill Bennett. I dare not tell of Ward."
"Why not?"
"He promise share in silver mine when he find
paper."
"Oh, if that's all, you may as well turn traitor.
The paper is found, and is now in the possession of
the detective from Lima, who intends to take it back
to Don Juan, the brother and heir of the dead Don
Felipe."
"AVhere it found?" demanded Madrazo, in a voice
of despair.
"In the hollow of the carved staff. Ho! Ho!
Ward killed Bennett, yet could not find the memo-
randum for which he had perilled his neck."
"Ward do nothing for me," said Madrazo,
throwing his arms wide open; "nothing!"
"I'm afraid not. If you like to screen him at
your own expense, I have nothing to say."


MADRAZO AT %A?.
233
"No! No, I not screen him, Mr. Rixton. Ward
very bad. I 'fraid of Ward. I marry Mrs. Brynmaur,
and Ward he trouble not. I give you Ward."
"Very good, Judas," said Rixton, with a scorn he
could not repress. "And when is the betrayal to
come off?"
"Hush!" whispered Madrazo, looking round.
"Ward know he watched; he 'fraid; oh, ver' 'fraid.
He come to see me at night; to-morrow night, nine
o'clock—oh, yes, he come into here."
"Indeed! A very good opportunity to arrest
him. I'll bring Duncan with me to-morrow
night, at nine o'clock, and we'll nail Mr. Julius
Ward."
"Ah! What? You no know Ward. He clever,
he cunning. To save myself I give you him. He kill
me if he find out."
"As he killed Bennett."
"I swear I tell you all," cried Madrazo; "by the
Virgin, I no know if he killed the poor man."
Rixton looked at him with a puzzled expression,
and saw that he was in earnest. "It is strange,"
muttered the detective; "I may be wrong after all.
Well, we'll see—to-morrow night."
a a


CHAPTER XXVIII.
EUN TO EAHTH.
"The worst of being a detective is that one has to
make use of such dirty tools," confessed Rixton to
Conway the next day. "That scoundrel of a Madrazo
is quite willing to act the part of Judas, and betray
!Ward, in order to save himself."
"Self-preservation is the first law of Nature,
Rixton," observed the sententious Conway.
"That rule may be abused; I should think more
of Madrazo if he had shielded his brother scoundrel.
But he gave in to my bounce, and is about to play
a dirty trick. Upon my word," said Rixton, grimly,
"I've a good mind to let Ward break his friend's
head before he wears the darbies."
"Are you coming out in your character of Fanks,
in order to slip the handcuffs on him?"
"No, my boy; I shall maintain my disguise. Too
many people know my vocation as it is."
"I sha'n't betray you, Rixton."
"I know that; but Mrs. Brynmaur will da so as
soon as she sees there is no further danger."


BUN TO EARTH.
235
"For his own sake, Madrazo will keep his mouth
shut," said Conway, sagaciously; "at least, I hope
so."
"Pooh; nonsense! Madrazo won't have the power.
When Mrs. Brynmaur finds out that he can't hurt
her, she'll give him the go-by."
"Humph! Serve him right. He'll lose the widow
and the money."
"She'll lose it also, I fancy," said Rixton, cynically.
"She was not really married to Brynmaur, you know;
so the money ought to go to his relations."
"Will you tell them 'f"
"I! What do you take me for, Conway? When
Duncan arrests Ward, and I prove that he killed
Bennett, my business is over. I'll have nothing
further to do with the pack of scoundrels. No, no;
I sha'n't tell—but if she splits with Madrazo, he
wiH."
"Then, you'll see, she won't split with him."
"I don't care if she does or not," retorted Rixton,
coolly; "if she does, she'll lose the money; if she
doesn't, her third marriage will make her miserable.
I'm glad she will be punished in either case; for a
more wicked little minx doesn't live than Mercedes
Bennett."
"At all events, she didn't kill Bennett."
"I knew that from the first."
"Oh, did you? I suppose," added Conway, with
some hesitation, "that you suspected Barrel?"
"No! I did not suspect Darrel."
"Then Madrazo was the object of your sus-
picions?"


236 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Not even Madrazo," retorted Rixton, -with a nod;
"you'll pet a shock to-night, Conway."
"Rubbish; I don't know Ward."
Rixton laughed, but made no comment on this
observation. He was highly pleased with himself,
as the theory he had entertained from the beginning
was likely to prove correct. Of this he hoped to be
assured in a few hours, when Madrazo's door would
open to admit Ward. He was curious to hear what
story the man would tell, as he fully expected a con-
fession. It would be of no use for Ward to deny the
murder of Bennett in the hope of escaping punish-
ment, as his life was already forfeited to the law for
the murder of Don Felipe Tejada. From what he
had learned of Ward from Bennett's diary, Rixton
thought that he was a corrupt scoundrel, cynical and
courageous, who, finding his neck in the noose, would
confess his crimes, and glory in the horror they
created. It was a long time since Rixton had come
into contact with so thorough-paced a criminal.
While the two young men were talking, Doolan,
sleek and respectful as ever, entered the room, and
addressed himself to his master. He looked' haggard
and ill.
"I beg your pardon, sir," he said, politely, "but
would you permit me to go out this afternoon? I
feel ill, sir, and I want to see a doctor."
"Go, by all means, Doolan," replied Conway,
pleasantly; "you don't look well. But you must
be back before five o'clock, as I am going out with
Mr. Rixton, and will not return until midnight."
"Very good, sir," replied Doolan, who had listened


238 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
the first to speak, as Rixton, leaning back with, his
eyes on the ceiling, was wrapped up in his own
thoughts.
"Doolan is an excellent servant, Rixton."
"Yes, old chap; a capital man."
"I am sorry to say that he is about to leave me. He
has given notice."
"Really?" said Rixton, bringing his eyes to the
level of Conway's face. "He does not approve of
your marriage, perhaps?" I have known servants
throw up excellent situations rather than have a
mistress."
"No, it is not that," replied Conway; "but
Madrazo is returning to Peru with his future bride,
and he has offered to take Doolan as his valet.
Higher wages, I believe."
"I shouldn't think Madrazo could pay higher
wages than you, Conway."
"Not now, but he can if he marries Mrs.
Brynmaur."
"No doubt," replied Rixton, with a short laugh.
"If he marries Mrs Brynmaur—much virtue in 'if.'
When did Doolan give you notice?" he added.
"Last week."
"Humph! It's a pity you are going to lose him.
He's a very superior man."
"I grant that," said Conway, reflectively; "but
to tell you the honest truth, Rixton, I am glad that
he is going."
"May I ask why?"
"Well, you see, he was my poor cousin's servant,
and he knows Mrs. Brynmaur, Madrazo, and Ward.


RUN TO EARTH.
230
Now, I don't care to have a man about me who
knows that lot. Doolan is perfectly honest, but—
you understand?"
"Oh, yes, I understand; very natural—very
natural. Ha! ha! ha!"
"Why do you laugh?"
Rixton picked up his hat and stick. Smilingly
refusing an explanation, he retired in the direction of
the door. "I'll meet you at the Athenian Club at
eight-thirty, and bring Duncan," he said, lightly;
"then we will visit Hadrazo and receive Ward."
When Rixton departed, his friend heaved a sigh
of relief, for the detective was so intimately connected
with the events of the past two months that he felt
uneasy in his presence. As Rixton had, so to speak,
6aved his life, this sounds somewhat ungrateful, but
the whole affair of the carbuncle bangle was distaste-
ful to him. He was about to marry Lena, they were
going for a prolonged tour on the Continent
immediately after the marriage, and both of them
wanted to cut themselves adrift from the past. Both
had suffered disgrace, Conway through his arrest,
Lena through her father's flight; so it was natural
that they should desire to begin a new life unhampered
by the past. Rixton had promised Conway that the
disclosure of the mystery should come about on this
night. Conway thanked heaven that the end was so
near. From to-morrow his new existence with Lena
would date. After the late storm would come the
calm.
Precisely at half-past eight he received Rixton
and Duncan at the Athenian Club. The latter was


CHAPTER XXIX.
A FULL CONFESSION.
Denuded of his borrowed plumes, Doolan faced his
enemies, breathing heavily. The artificial sallow-
ness of his skin contrasted oddly with the red hue of
his hair. For the moment he was stunned by the
unexpectedness of the situation, and glared round
the room like a caged tiger, looking for some means
of escape. All the sleekness, and respectability, and
deference of the model servant were gone, and the
true character of the man was revealed. Dishevelled,
despairing, baffled, and trapped, he was anything but
a pleasant object to look upon at that moment.
Duncan and Crate stood on either side of him with
grim satisfaction. Rixton and Conway faced him,
the one calmly, the other in some dismay, and huddled
up in a near chair, Madrazo's pale face and trembling
limbs betrayed his terror. On this latter Doolan's
gaze finally rested, and therewith he burst into a
mirthless laugh.


211 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"You needn't tremble like a whipped hound,
Madrazo," he cried savagely; "my hands are fettered.
I can do you no harm now. I wish I could, you
lying Judas. Set me free for a moment," added he,
turning his face towards Rixton, "so that I may kill
that cur."
"I think we'll dispense with that, my good fellow,"
6aid Rixton, stepping lightly up to his prisoner, and
depriving him of his revolver; "with this you may
kill more than one."
Doolan eyed the weapon savagely, as Rixton tossed
it on the table. "Had I got my finger on the
trigger a moment sooner, you would not have captured
me so easily. But your man seized me from behind.
Oh, I don't blame you, Mr. Rixton, it's all plain
sailing with you, and I'd have done the same myself.
It's that dog there who betrayed me."
"A man with your character has no right to
condemn him."
"That's all you know," retorted the defiant ruffian;
"I am a bad lot, I admit—I am a thief, a rogue, a
cardsharper, but I never yet betrayed a man who
trusted me."
"You have omitted to call yourself a murderer."
"I defy you to prove that. "Whom did I kill?"
"Don Felipe Tejada," said Duncan, speaking for
the first time. "I have a warrant to arrest you for
that crime and take you back to Lima. There you'll
stand your trial. With your known character, Mr.
Ward, I have little doubt as to what the end
will be."
"A rope and a priest, eh?" said Doolan, sneeringly.


A FULL CONFESSION. 245
"Well, I've faced death, too often in my time to be
afraid now. Besides," he added significantly, "there
is always a chance of escape during the voyage."
"You may not take the voyage," struck in Rixton,
sharply; "the law here may hang you."
"For killing that old fool Tejada?"
"No. For the murder of Horace Bennett."
"Oh, indeed!" said Doolan, with uplifted eye-
brows. "So you accuse me of that crime? I may
deny your accusation."
"What good will that do?" replied Rixton,
shrugging his shoulders. You can't deny that you
murdered Don Felipe Tejada?."
"I don't deny it."
"In that case you'll be hanged; and if for one, why
not for the other? Besides, there is not the slightest
necessity for you to confess your guilt if you don't want
to. I have ample evidence against you, and at least
two witnesses; Mrs. Brynmaur and"
"And that dog," interrupted Doolan, fixing Madrazo
with a terrible glance; "you needn't tell me more. So
you have evidence against me? Good, I was right to
suspect you."
"If you will kindly explain?"
"Why," said Doolan, with a grin, "I thought you
were too clever to be the mere idler you pretended to
be. I had a suspicion that you were connected with
the police."
"Quite right, my friend. I am connected with
the police—and with Scotland Yard. I am a detec-
tive, and my name—for professional purposes—is
Fanks."


210
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"You're a clever man, Mr. Fanks. You deceived
me; anyone in the Americas will tell you that you
have every reason to be proud. I'm a hard one to beat,
I am."
"But you're beaten now," said Conway, grimly.
"It seems so at present," retorted Doolan, blandly;
"but I've been in worse troubles than this in my time,
and yet managed to escape. I was nearly lynched in
America, but I got off. This game of yours is mere
child's play to lynching. The noose is not yet round
my neck. It was then."
Here the iron nerves of the man began to give way.
Despite his insolence and bravado, he knew well that
his course was run, and that either in Peru or in London
he would suffer for his crimes. With his hands
fettered behind him, he had stood up with a stubborn
courage which drew forth the admiration of Rixton,
who knew how to respect bravery. Now a qualmish
feeling made his knees tremble and his eyes grow dim;
but for the aid of his two guardians he would have
rolled on the floor.
"Chair—brandy," he muttered, faintly. "Rixton—
not Madrazo."
The Peruvian, struck perhaps with remorse for his
cowardly conduct, had already poured out a tumbler
of brandy, but he shrank back at the last words of
his victim. Rixton took the glass from him and
held it to Doolan's lips. He drank greedily of
the ardent spirit, and in a few minutes he recovered
so far as to sit up in his chair, and laugh with his
former cynicism. Ruffian as he was, his courage
was undeniable.


A FULL CONFESSION.
247
"If you are ready, I think we'll go," said Duncan,
addressing his prisoner.
"To gaol, I suppose?" said Doolan; and on
receiving a nod in confirmation of this opinion he
continued—"Well, it won't be the first time I've
been there. In and out, out and in: I may give you
the slip yet."
"Not much chance of that," retorted Duncan,
grimly. "Come on."
"One moment, Duncan," interposed Eixton,
advancing, "before you take him away. I want to
hear his confession; to learn how he killed Bennett."
"Oh, you do, do you?" said Doolan, resuming his
seat, "and suppose I tell you that Madrazo killed the
man."
With a gasp Madrazo was on his feet protesting
his innocence. "I swear—oh, yes, I do say, I no kill
Bennett. He a liar, a murderer—twice—three times
a killer."
"Sit down you fool," said Doolan, ferociously, "it
is not in that way I intend to punish you. So, Mr.
Rixton," he added, turning towards the detective,
"you suspect me of killing Bennett?"
"I suspected you from the first," retorted Rixton."
"Quite right. You deserve great credit for your
penetration. I did kill Bennett."
"Tou did?" cried Conway, coming forward, "yet
you let me be arrested for your crime—and I have
been an excellent master to you Doolan!"
"Not excellent enough for me to put a rope
round my neck for your sake, Conway," replied the
quondam servant with marked insolence. "' Number


21S
TIM CAHBUNCLK CLVE.
One' is my motto, you may be quite sure of
that."
"Come now," said Eixton, impatiently, "why did
you kill Bennett?"
"Ah, why? There is a long story attached to
that."
"I know there is—what is more, I know the story."
"That's very 'cute of you," said Doolan, smiling;
"and your authorities?"
"Bennett's diary, Mrs. Brynmaur, and Madrazo."
"Also a little information from me," put in
Duncan, blandly.
"H'm! You have set your trap excellently well,"
said Doolan, harshly. "I've no doubt I'm done for
this time. It's a pity. I don't care about swinging
for Tejada or for Bennett. But I'd give the world to
hang for throttling that cur Madrazo."
"Come! Come!" cried Rixton, looking at his
watch; "the story—the confession."
"I'll tell you all. I'm sure you deserve a reward,"
said Doolan, coolly. "To begin, I may as well con-
fess that my name isn't Doolan, it isn't Ward: it is
Murtogh. I was born of Irish parents in the States.
I was brought up to be a schoolmaster—finally, I was
never deaf in my life."
"You needn't tell me that," interposed Rixton, with
a nod. "I saw that long ago. It was that, added to
your lies about seeing Bennett die, that first revealed
to me your true character."
"Aha! a clever man, a sharp man. See to what
dangers we poor chaps are subject," sighed Doolan,
jestingly, "but you don't know all, Mr. Rixton—


A FULL CONFESSION.
219
beg pardon, Fanks. I will tell you as briefly as
possible. I left the States because I signed some-
body else's name to a cheque. As a matter of fact,
I am rather clever at imitating handwriting," added
Doolan, turning towards Conway, "else I had never
been your servant, Mr. Conway."
"What! Those letters from Bennett"
"Were written and signed by me," said the scamp,
coolly. "I gave myself a good character, didn't I?
You see, I wanted the memorandum—the where-
abouts of the silver mine. I killed Don Felipe to
get it, but Bennett snatched it from me that time. I
believed that when he was carried off by Indians—a
little matter which I arranged for his wife, now Mrs.
Brynmaur—she sent home his effects—clothes,
etceteras, to you."
"Yes, she did."
"Well," continued Doolan, smoothly, "I thought
the memorandum was among his papers. As Lima
was too hot to hold me, I came here with the forged
character to be your servant, and ransacked your
things in search of the memorandum."
"But why did you stay with me for three
years?"
"Because I found myself comfortable, and I wished
to be low until I saw what business I could take up.
I quite gave up all thought of finding the memo-
randum; but I stayed on with you for my own
purposes. In that disguise," added Doolan, pointing
to the wig, "I used to go out nearly every night and
enjoy myself. It was the same get-up as I wore in
Lima to escape the detectives froin the States whe


23J
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
wanted me for forgery. Here, as there, that disguise
represented Julius Ward."
"A mistake it was, you bet," said Duncan. "I
saw you in it. You might have been safe had you
held to the character of Doolan."
"It's too late to lament over that, my friend.
But to continue. Madrazo also was after the
memorandum; he had a false key made of Mr.
Conway's rooms, and came in one night to rob. He
met—me."
"Ah!" cried the Peruvian, hotly, "fool I was not
to say "This Ward."
"No doubt," replied his brother villain, "but you
couldn't, as I knew too much about you—the little
visit to Mr. Conway's rooms put you in my power.
I swore you to silence as you well know, so all things
went smoothly till Bennett came."
"Did you know that he was in London?" asked
Conway.
"No, I did not. I met him for the first time on
that night. I was in my bedroom and heard Mrs.
Brynmaur cry out. Wondering what was up, I came
out and saw—Bennett. As I had intended to go
out, and was disguised as Ward, he knew me at once.
You know all about the carbuncle bangle, and how
as a member of the society, he tracked me down.
Well, he wanted to arrest me, and as he had a revolver
and I had none, I was powerless. At length, he
promised to give me a chance if I told him why his
wife had come to Conway's rooms. I told him some
story, and he sat at the desk to write it down so that
I should sign it, and then he could take it to Mrs.


A FULL CONFESSION.
251
Brynmaur. I saw, if I signed it as Ward, I was
lost, and would be taken back to Lima to be hanged;
so, in despair, I resolved to kill him."
"Ah!"
"He had the pistol, which I could not get from
him, and I did not know how to get rid of him. I
thought of choking him with my bare hands, but was
afraid lest the struggle should attract attention. Then
I saw the carved stick close at hand."
"You knew the secret of it?" cried Rixton, breath-
lessly.
"Yes, I saw him draw the dagger from it in Peru.
While he was writing, I unscrewed the knob, drew
the dagger, and quietly advancing towards him where
he was writing, I stabbed him under the left shoulder-
blade with one strong blow. He gave a groan and
died immediately. His face fell forward on the
desk, and I took the stick to my own room."
"Not knowing," said Rixton, "that the memo-
randum you wanted was in the hollow?"
"The deuce, was it?" cried Doolan, after a pause.
"What a fool I was not to take it out—to search for
it. Well, you know the rest, Mr. Rixton. I swore I
heard nothing, owing to my deafness, and being only
the servant, Doolan, with no past like Ward, I escaped
suspicion."
"I suspected you."
"Well, no matter. You have me now, and I am
ready to pay the penalty. I thought that I might
be suspected, and to throw suspicion on Madrazo, I
took the carved stick into this room, and hid it behind
yonder sideboard."


CHAPTER XXX.
THE OPINION OF OCTAVIUS EIXTON.
Some months later, Rixton called to see Crate about a
new case, Tooley's Alley, which he was now investigat-
ing. The mystery of the Garry Street murder had been
solved by the confession of Murtogh, alias Ward, alias
Doolan, and the criminal had been duly punished as
by law provided. Those concerned in the matter had
gone their several ways, and the whole circumstances
were being rapidly forgotten, Rixton himself rarely
thought of Doolan's crime, being occupied with a fresh
mystery, and it was only recalled to his mind by a
letter which he had that morning received from Gerald
Conway. The mention of this led to a discussion
between himself and Crate regarding the affair.
"By the way," said Rixton, after he had given his
subordinate instructions regarding the new investiga-
tion, "I had a letter from Mr. Conway this morning."
"Him as married Miss Darrel, sir?"
"Yes; they went to the Cape for a trip after their
marriage, and now Conway writes to say that they are
returning."


254
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
"Not to Garry Street, I suppose, Mr. Fanks?"
"No, not to Garry Street. Conway has given np
his rooms there, and he intends to settle in Devonshire,
in the family country house."
"Doolan wasn't taken out to Peru to stand his
trial, sir?"
"What did that matter, Crate? He would have
been condemned to death out there for the murder of
Tejada; he was hanged here because he killed
Bennett. Never did a man so richly deserve the
rope."
"Rather a sell for him, Mr. Fanks, wasn't it? I
heard him say that night he confessed, as how he
hoped to escape from Duncan on the voyage. Duncan
may thank his stars he didn't have to take him back
to Lima."
"And Madrazo may thank his stars that Doolan
didn't get a chance of escape. If he had got away,
I wouldn't have given a red cent for Madrazo's
life."
"Well, I don't think I'd have cried my eyes out if
Doolan had killed that cur," said Crate, grinning;
"ho was a bad lot, for sure. But Mrs. Brynmaur
paid him out proper."
"I rather think he turned the tables on her, Crate,"
said Rixton, drily. "If she refused to marry him, he
reduced her to poverty by telling Brynmaur's relatives
that she was a bigamist. It served her right, and it
served him right."
"She went back to Lima, didn't she, Mr. Fanks?"
'" She did, and after the manner of the wicked, she
has flourished like a green bay tree."


THE OPINION OF OCTAVIUS HI XT ON. 255
"Ah ! you don't say so?" exclaimed Crate, raising
his hands in astonishment.
Rixton took Conway's letter out of his pocket, and
selecting a passage, read it out to Crate, in confirmation
of the intelligence. "I met Jack Markham at Natal,"
he read, "a fellow who chummed with me at Oxford.
He has lately returned from South America, and,
knowing the history of the carbuncle bangle, he gave
me some news about Mrs. Brynmaur. She returned
to Lima, it seems, resumed her maiden name, and
ultimately married Don Juan Tejada, the brother of
Don Felipe, who was murdered. Don Juan got the
memorandum from Duncan, and has found the silver
mine spoken of by the old Indian. It turns out to be
exceedingly rich, so in a few years I expect Tejada
will be doubly a millionaire. So Mrs. Bennett is now
Senora Tejada, and has as much money as she wants.
I don't envy her elderly husband; she will get rid of
him sooner or later, and, no doubt, she will then marry
for the fourth time. I wish Don Juan Tejada joy of
his bride and his silver mine."
"Oh, Mrs. Brynmaur will be all right," said Crate,
as his chief returned the letter to his pocket; "she's
not the sort of woman to go under. Does Mr. Conway
say anything about Madrazo, sir?"
"He just mentions that the scamp is back again at
his old business of card-sharping. No doubt he'll
try and blackmail Senora Tejada when he's hard up.
If he does," said Rixton, grimly, "she won't hesitate
at having him murdered. A woman who could get
her husband carried off by Indians won't stick at a
trifle. Madrazo's a clever scoundrel, but he had better


2CG
THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
keep his weather eye open when he comes into contact
with the late Mrs. Bennett, nee Mercedes Velez."
"Do you know, Mr. Fanks, I really thought she did
it," observed Crate, after a pause.
"I didn't," replied Rixton, promptly; "I had one
belief all through."
"Meaning Ward?"
"Meaning Doolan," said Rixton, slowly.
""Well, Mr. Fanks," argued the other, ""Ward was
Doolan."
"No doubt; but not when I first entertained the
suspicion that Doolan killed Bennett. When Duncan
mentioned that Ward was minus the little finger of
his right hand, I dropped then to the idea that the
two were one. Often I had noticed that the so-called
Doolan had lost his little finger."
"But how. did you suspect Doolan of the
murder?"
"Well, it's a long explanation," said Rixton,
nursing his chin. "You can have it, if you like. In
the first place I saw, from certain little things, that
Doolan was shamming deafness, so I did not believe
in his yarn that he had slept through all the row caused
by the murder. In the next place, Doolan lied about
seeing Bennett die at Cuzco. In the third place,
Bennett's diary made no mention of his having a
servant called Doolan. Again, at my first talk with
him after the murder, I saw a stain on his temple, so I
guessed easily that he had been darkening his skin;
in the excitement I suppose he forgot to wash it off.
All these trifles made me suspicious of Doolan's
honesty."


258 THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
wavered. I did suspect Madrazo, for the reason that
he seemed to have a stronger motive than Doolan for
getting rid of Bennett. Bennett's diary rather
confirmed this Belief, but in spite of all, I felt certain
that Doolan was the culprit. But his motive? I could
not find that. Then Duncan luckily came with his
story of Ward and the lost memorandum. At first
I did not connect Ward with Doolan. The infor-
mation of the lost little finger showed me that the two
were one. I forced Madrazo to confess that Ward
came to see him, as I surmised that Ward had brought
the stick up to his rooms. The statement of Madrazo
that Ward was dark accounted for the stain I had
seen on Doolan's face. I guessed that the villain had
disguised himself. The silver mine memorandum,
the hunting of Ward by Bennett, showed that either
greed or terror had caused the crime. Tou see that
I was right all through, although I admit, but for the
accident of Duncan's coming to England in search of
Ward, I might have been groping in the dark still.
The long chain of coincidences has done more than I
to discover the truth."
"I'm sure you are heartily to be congratulated, Mr.
Fanks," said Crate, admiringly. "It is wonderful
how you put the thing together. Tou are just like
the detective in story-books."
"Scarcely so omnipotent," returned Rixton, with
a laugh. "You see, Crate, in real life we cannot bend
circumstances to our will, as novelists do in their
stories. They can meet every complication by a
counter complication, and need never be at a loss, for
the reason that the whole fiction is in their hands.


TEE OPINION OF OCTAVIVS RIXTON. 259
With me in real life it is different, I have to grope in
the dark; I have to disentangle circumstances, and
deduce whatever I can from them. It is little to be
wondered at that your flesh and blood detective should
look a fool on many occasions, that he should follow
useless clues, and deduce wrong theories. Between
the commission of a crime like this and the capture of
the criminal, all is darkness, through which the
detective has to grope his way without the smallest
glimmer of light. You know how difficult it is to do
that."
"Yes," said Crate, with a sigh, "it is very difficult.
I can never see the end of any case myself."
"Neither can I," replied Rixton, quickly; "I am
as blind as you are. I do my best, but you know
Crate, I have often failed. A memory of my failures
keeps me humble. I am not Vidocq, I am not
the fictitious Lecoq, but merely an .earnest man,
going forward in, the darkness, by the light of
such intelligence as God has granted to him. I
do my best! I fail! I succeed! But my dear
Crate," added Rixton, resting his hand on the other's
shoulder, "in all cases, the greatest detective of all
is—chance."
"Certainly, Mr. Fanks. chance brought Duncan,
but you made use of the circumstance."
"Don't make me conceited, Crate," said Rixton,
good-humouredly. "If I have succeeded in the Garry
Street case, I may fail in this crime of Tooley's Alley.
Thus will the law of compensation come in."
"There's one thing I don't quite understand, Mr.
Itixton," said Crate, reflecting; "you said the whole


CM THE CARBUNCLE CLUE.
mystery would be revealed by the carbuncle bangle.
WelL it wasn't."
"I'm not so sure of that," replied Rixton. "But
for the carbuncle bangle, I should never have known
that Bennett was a member of the vigilance society
hunting down "Ward; and but that I found out about
Ward, I should never have found out who killed
Bennett. Oh, yes, Crate, depend upon it, the mystery
was disclosed by the carbuncle bangle."
THE END.









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