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THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO


A LIST OF FERGUS HUME'S NOVELS.
THE MYSTERY OF A HANSOM THE DWARF'S CHAMBER.
CAB.
.
THE CRIME OF THE 'LIZA
MADAME MIDAS.
ANE.
THE GIRL FROM MALTA.
A MARRIAGE MYSTERY.
THE PICCADILLY Puzzle, THE RAINBOW FEATHER.
Miss MEPHISTOPHELES.
THE LONE INN.
THE GENTLEMAN WHO VAN- | THE ExpeDITION OF CAPTAIN
ISHED.
FLICK.
WHOM GOD HATH JOINED. The TOMBSTONE TREASURE.
MONSIEUR JUDAS.
A SPECK OF THE MOTLEY.
A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT. The CARBUNCLE CLUE.
THE YEAR OF MIRACLE.
THE CLOCK STRUCK ONE.
THE BLACK CARNATION.
HAGAR OF THE PAWNSHOP.
A MIDNIGHT MYSTERY.
TRACKED BY A TATTOO.
THE MAN WITH A SECRET. THE White PRIOR.
ALADDIN IN LONDON.
LADY JEZEBEL.
THE ISLAND OF FANTASY. TнE MYSTERY OF LANDY
THE HARLEQUIN OPAL.
COURT.
THE BEST OF HER SEX.
THE CHINESE JAR.
THE GATES OF DAWN.
CHRONICLES OF FAIRYLAND.
THE MASQUERADE MYSTERY. THE Fever Of Life.
CLAUDE DUVAL OF 'NINETY WHEN I LIVED IN BOHEMIA.
FIVE,
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO,


The Silent House in
Pimlico
A Detective Story
By
Fergus Hume
Author of "The Mystery of a Hansom Cab,"
“Tracked by a Tattoo," etc., etc.

•ERSIORGI
DCAOBREVIS.4
TOHN LONG
SECOND EDITION
London
John Long
6 Chandos Street, Strand
1899


PR
4809
H87
s5
1899
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER
I. THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE
7
II. SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
15
III. AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
24
IV. MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY
32
V. THE TALK OF THE TOWN
.
40
VI. MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
48
VII. THE ASSURANCE MONEY
56
VIII. DIANA VRAIN
.
63
IX. A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE
.
71
79
X. THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
XI. FURTHER DISCOVERIES
88
XII. THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER
95
XIII. GOSSIP
.
.
104
XIV. THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET
.
113
XV. RHODA AND THE CLOAK
I21
XVI. MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
129
XVII. A DENIAL .
137
XVIII. WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK?
145
XIX. THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
153
XX. A NEW DEVELOPMENT
162
.
XXI. Two MONTHS PASS.
170
XXII. AT BERWIN MANOR .
.
· 178


vi
CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER
XXIII. A STARTLING THEORY
.
.
· 187
XXIV. LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
195
XXV. A DARK PLOT
203
XXVI. THE OTHER MAN'S WIFE
211
XXVII. A CONFESSION
.
.
219
XXVIII. THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN
229
XXIX. LINK SETS A TRAP.
238
XXX. WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP? .
247
XXXI. A STRANGE CONFESSION
.
256
264
XXXII. THE CONFESSION (continued)
XXXIII. WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY .
273
XXXIV. THE END OF IT ALL
281


8
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
One long, narrow street led from a roaring thoroughfare
into a silent quadrangle of tall grey houses, occupied
by lodging-house keepers, city clerks and two or three
artists, who represented the Bohemian element of the
place. In the centre there was an oasis of green lawn,
surrounded by rusty iron railings the height of a man,
dotted with elms of considerable age and streaked with
narrow paths of yellow gravel.
The surrounding houses represented an eminently
respectable appearance, with their immaculately clean
steps, white curtained windows and neat boxes of
flowers. The windows glittered like diamonds, the door-
knobs and plates shone with a yellow lustre, and there
were no sticks, or straws, or waste paper lying about to
mar the tidy look of the
square.
With one exception, Geneva Square was a pattern of
all that was desirable in the way of cleanliness and order.
One might hope to find such a haven in some somnolent
cathedral town, but scarcely in the grimy, smoky, restless
metropolis of London.
The exception to the notable spotlessness of the neigh-
bourhood was No. 13, a house in the centre of the side
opposite to the entrance. Its windows were dusty and
without blinds or curtains, there were no flower boxes on
the ledges, the steps lacked whitewash and the iron rail-
ings looked rusty for want of paint. Stray straws and
scraps
of
paper found their way down the area, where
the cracked pavement was damp with green slime. Such
beggars as occasionally wandered into the square, to the
scandal of its inhabitants, camped on the doorstep; and
the very door itself presented a battered, dissolute appear-
ance.
Yet, for all its ill looks and disreputable suggestions,


THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE
9
those who dwelt in Geneva Square would not have seen
it furbished up and occupied for any money. They spoke
about it in whispers, with ostentatious tremblings and
daunted looks, for No. 13 was supposed to be haunted,
and had been empty for over twenty years. By reason of
its legend, its loneliness and grim appearance, it was
known as the Silent House, and formed quite a feature of
the place. Murder had been done long ago in one of its
empty, dusty rooms, and it was since then that the victim
walked. Lights, said the ghost-seers, had been seen Aitting
from window to window, groans were sometimes heard,
and the apparition of a little old woman in brocaded silk
and high-heeled shoes appeared on occasions. Hence
the Silent House bore an uncanny reputation.
How much truth there was in these stories it is im-
possible to say; but sure enough, in spite of a low rental,
no tenant would take No. 13 and face its ghostly terrors.
House and apparition and legend had become quite a
tradition, when the whole fantasy was ended in the
summer of '95 by the unexpected occupation of the
mansion. Mr. Mark Berwin, a gentleman of mature
age, who came from nobody knew where, rented No. 13,
and established himself therein to lead a strange and
lonely life.
At first the gossips, strong in ghostly tradition, de-
clared that the new tenant would not remain a week
in the house; but as the week extended into six months,
and Mr. Berwin showed no signs of leaving, they left off
speaking of the ghost and took to discussing the man
himself. In a short space of time quite a collection of
stories were told about the new-comer and his strange
ways.
Lucian heard many of these tales from his landlady.


to
THE SILENT HOUSE ÎN PIMLICO
How Mr. Berwin lived all alone in the Silent House
without servant or companion; how he spoke to none,
and admitted no one into the mansion; how he appeared
to have plenty of money, and was frequently seen coming
home more or less intoxicated; and how Mrs. Kebby, the
deaf charwoman who cleaned out Mr. Berwin's rooms,
declined to sleep in the house because she considered that
there was something wrong about her employer.
To such gossip Denzil paid little attention, until his
skein of life became unexpectedly entangled with that of
the strange gentleman. The manner of their meeting
was unforeseen and peculiar.
One foggy November night, Lucian, returning from
the theatre shortly after eleven o'clock, dismissed his
hansom at the entrance to the square, and walked there-
into through the thick mist, trusting to find his way home
by reason of two years' familiarity with the precincts.
As it was impossible to see even the glare of the near
gas-lamp in the murky air, Lucian felt his way cautiously
along the railings. The square was filled with fog, dense
to the eye and cold to the feel, so that Lucian shivered
with the chill, in spite of the fur coat over his evening
clothes.
As he edged gingerly along, and thought longingly of
the fire and supper awaiting him in his comfortable
rooms, he was startled by hearing a deep rich voice boom
out almost at his feet. To make the phenomenon still
more remarkable, the voice shaped itself into certain well-
known words of Shakespeare :
“Oh !” boomed this vox et præterea nihil in rather
husky tones, “Oh! that a man should put an enemy in
his mouth to steal away his brains.” And then through
the mist and darkness came the unmistakable sound of sobs.


THE TENANT OF THÉ SILENT HOUSE
II
“God bless me!” cried Lucian, leaping back with
shaken nerves.
“ What is this? Who are you?”
" A lost soul !” wailed the deep voice, “which God
will not bless !" and then came the sobbing again.
It made Denzil's blood run cold to hear this unseen
creature weeping in the gloom. Moving cautiously
in the direction of the sound, he stumbled against a
man with his folded arms resting on the railings, and his
face bent down on his arms. He made no attempt to
turn when Lucian touched him, but, with downcast head,
continued to weep and moan in a very frenzy of self-pity.
“ Here!” said the young barrister, shaking the
stranger by the shoulder, “what is the matter with
you?”
Drink,” stuttered the man, suddenly turning with a
dramatic gesture. “I am an object lesson to teetotalers;
a warning to topers; a modern helot made shameful to
disgust youth with vice."
“You had better go home, sir,” said Lucian sharply.
“ I can't find home. It is somewhere hereabout, but
where I don't know.”
“ You are in Geneva Square,” said Denzil, trying to
sharpen the dulled wits of the man.
“I wish I was in No. 13 of it," sighed the stranger.
“Where the deuce is No. 13 ? Not in this Clondcuckoo-
land anyhow."
“Oh!" cried Lucian, taking the man's arm.
" Come
with me. I'll lead you home, Mr. Berwin.”
Scarcely had the name passed his lips than the stranger
drew back suddenly, with a hasty exclamation. Some
suspicion seemed to engender a mixture of terror and
defiance which placed him on his guard against undue
intimacy, even when some undefined fear was knocking


12
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
at his heart.
“Who are you
a ?” he demanded in a
steadier tone. “ How do you know my name ? ”
“My name is Denzil, Mr. Berwin, and I live in one of
the houses of this square. As you mention No. 13 I
know you can be none other than Mr. Mark Berwin, the
tenant of the Silent House."
“ The dweller in the haunted house,” sneered Berwin,
evidently relieved, “who stays there with ghosts and
worse than ghosts."
“ Worse than ghosts?”
“ The phantoms of my own sins, young man.
I have
sowed folly, and now I am reaping the crop. I am
here his further speech was interrupted by a fit of cough-
ing, which shook his lean figure severely. At its con-
clusion he was so exhausted that he was forced to support
himself against the railings—“A portion of the crop,”
he murmured.
Lucian was sorry for the man, who seemed scarcely
capable of looking after himself; and he thought it un-
wise to leave him in such a plight. At the same time he
was impatient of lingering in the heart of the clammy
fog at such a late hour; so, as his companion seemed
indisposed to move, he caught him again by the arm
without ceremony. The abrupt action seemed to waken
again the fears of Berwin.
“Where would you take me ?” he asked, resisting the
gentle force used by Lucian.
“To your own house; you will be ill if you stay here.”
“You are not one of them ?” asked the man suddenly.
“One of whom?”
“ One of those who wish to harm me?”
Denzil began to think he had to do with a madman,
and to gain his ends he spoke to him in a soothing
>>


THE TENANT OF THE SILENT HOUSE
13
manner, as he would to a child.
“I wish to do you good,
Mr. Berwin,” said he gently. “Come to your home.”
“ Home! home! Ah, God, I have no home."
Nevertheless he gathered himself together, and with
his arm in that of his guide, stumbled along in the thick
chill mist. Lucian knew the position of No. 13 well, as
it almost faced the lodgings occupied by himself, and
by skirting the railings with due caution, he managed to
half lead, half drag his companion to the house. When
they stood before the door, and Berwin had assured him-
self that he was actually home by use of his latchkey,
Denzil wished him a curt good-night. “And I should
advise you to go to bed at once," he concluded, turning
to descend the steps.
“Don't go! don't go!" cried Berwin, seizing the young
man by the arm. “I am afraid to go in by myself; all
is so dark and cold. Wait until I get a light.”
As the creature's nerves seemed to be unhinged by
over-indulgence in alcohol, and he stood gasping and
shivering on the threshold like some beaten animal,
Lucian took compassion on his wretchedness.
“ I'll see you indoors,” said he, and, striking a match,
stepped into the darkness after the man. The hall of
No. 13 seemed to be almost as cold as the world without,
and the trifling glimmer of the lucifer served rather
to reveal than dispel the surrounding darkness. The
light, as it were, hollowed a gulf out of the tremendous
gloom, and made the house tenfold more ghostly than
before. The footsteps of Denzil and Berwin sounding on
the bare boards—for the hall was uncarpeted—waked
hollow echoes, and when they paused, the silence which
ensued seemed almost menacing. The grim reputation
of the mansion, its gloom and silence, appealed power-


14
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
fully to the latent superstition of Lucian. How much
more nearly, then, would it touch the shaken and excited
nerves of the tragic drunkard who dwelt continually amid
its terrors.
Berwin opened a door on the right-hand side of the
hall and turned up the light of a handsome oil lamp,
which had been screwed down pending his arrival. This
lamp was placed on a small square table covered with a
white cloth and a dainty cold supper. The young bar-
rister noted that the napery, cutlery and crystal were all
of the finest; that the viands were choice ; that cham-
pagne and claret were the beverages. Evidently Berwin
was a luxurious gentleman and indulgent to his appetites.
Lucian tried to gain a long look at him in the mellow
light, but Berwin kept his face turned away, and seemed
as anxious now for his visitor to go as he had been for
him to enter. Denzil, quick in comprehension, took the
hint at once.
“ I'll go now, as you have the light burning," said he.
"Good-night."
“Good-night,” replied Berwin shortly, and added to
his discourtesy by letting Lucian find his way out alone.
And so ended the barrister's first meeting with the
strange tenant of the Silent House.


CHAPTER II
SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
The landlady of Denzil was a rather uncommon specimen
of the class. She inclined to plumpness, was lively in the
extreme, wore very fashionable garments of the brightest
colours, and—although somewhat elderly-still cherished
a hope that some young man would elevate her to the
rank of a matron.
At present Miss Julia Greeb was an unwedded damsel
of forty summers, who, with the aid of art, was making
desperate but ineffectual efforts to detain the youth which
was slipping from her. She pinched her waist, dyed her
hair, powdered her face, and affected juvenile dress of the
white frock and blue sash kind. In the distance she
looked a girlish twenty; close at hand various artifices
aided her to pass for thirty; and it was only in the
solitude of her own room that her real age was apparent.
Never did woman wage a more resolute fight with Time
than did Miss Greeb.
But this was the worst and most frivolous side of her
character; for she was really a good-hearted, cheery little
woman, with a brisk manner, and a flow of talk unequalled
in Geneva Square. She had been born in the house she
occupied, after the death of her father, and had grown up
(15)


16
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
to assist her mother in ministering to the exactions of
a continuous procession of lodgers. These came and
went, married and died; but not one of the desirable
young men had borne Miss Greeb to the altar, so that
when her mother died, the fair Julia almost despaired of
attaining to the dignity of wifehood. Nevertheless she
continued to keep boarders, and to make attempts to
captivate the hearts of such bachelors as she judged weak
in character.
Hitherto all her efforts had been more or less of a
mercantile character, with an eye to money; but when
Lucian Denzil appeared on the scene, the poor little
woman really fell in love with his handsome face. But,
in strange contrast to her other efforts, Miss Greeb never
for a moment deemed that Lucian would marry her. He
was her god, her ideal of manhood, and to him she
offered worship and burnt incense after the manner of her
kind.
Denzil occupied a bedroom and sitting-room, both
pleasant, airy apartments looking out on to the square.
Miss Greeb attended to his needs herself, and brought
up his breakfast with her own fair hands; happy for the
day if her admired lodger conversed with her for a few
moments before reading the morning paper. Then Miss
Greeb would retire to her own sitting-room and indulge
in day dreams which she well knew would never be re-
alised. The romances she wove herself were even more
marvellous than those she read in her favourite penny
novelettes; but, unlike the printed tales, her romance
never culminated in marriage. Poor brainless, silly,
pitiful Miss Greeb; she would have made a good wife
and a fond mother, but by some irony of fate she was
destined to be neither; and the comedy of her husband-


SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
17
hunting youth was now changing into the lonely tragedy
of disappointed spinsterhood. She was one of the world's
unknown martyrs, and her fate merits tears rather than
laughter.
On the morning after his meeting with Berwin, the
young barrister sat at breakfast, with Miss Greeb in
anxious attendance, Having poured out his tea and
handed him his paper, and ascertained that his breakfast
was to his liking, Miss Greeb lingered about the room,
putting this straight and that crooked, in the hope that
Lucian would converse with her. In this she was
gratified, as Denzil wished to learn details about the
strange man he had assisted on the previous night;
and he knew that no one could afford him more precise
information than his brisk landlady, to whom was known
all the gossip of the neighbourhood. His first word
made Miss Greeb flutter back to the table like a dove
to its nest.
“Do you know anything about No. 13?” asked
Lucian, stirring his tea.
“Do I know anything about No. 13?" repeated Miss
Greeb in shrill amazement. “Of course I do, Mr.
Denzil; there ain't a thing I don't know about that
house. Ghosts and vampires and crawling spectres live
in it—that they do."
“Do you call Mr. Berwin a ghost ?”
“No; nor nothing half so respectable. He is a mys-
tery, sir, that's what Mr. Berwin is, and I don't care if
he hears me commit myself so far."
“In what way is he a mystery ?” demanded Denzil,
approaching the matter with more particularity.
“Why," said Miss Greeb, evidently puzzled how to
answer this leading question, “no one can find out any-
2


18
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
thing about him. He's full of secrets and underhand
goings on. It ain't respectable not to be fair and above
board--that it ain't."
“I see no reason why a quiet-living old gentleman
should tell his private affairs to the whole square," re-
marked Lucian drily.
“ Those who have nothing bad to conceal needn't be
afraid of speaking out,” retorted Miss Greeb tartly.
“And the way in which Mr. Berwin lives is enough to
make one think him a coiner, or a thief, or even a murderer
that it is."
“ But what grounds have you to believe him any one
of the three?"
This question also puzzled the landlady, as she had
no reasonable grounds for her wild statements; never-
theless she made a determined attempt to substantiate
them by hearsay evidence. “Mr. Berwin," said she in
significant tones, "lives all alone in that haunted house."
Why not? Every man has the right to be a misan-
thrope if he chooses."
“ He has no right to behave so, in a respectable square,”
replied Miss Greeb, shaking her head. • There's only
two rooms of that large house furnished, and all the rest
is given up to dust and ghosts. Mr. Berwin won't have
a servant to live under his roof, and Mrs. Kebby, who
does his charing, says he drinks awful. Then he has his
meals sent in from the Nelson Hotel round the corner,
and eats them all alone. He don't receive no letters, he
don't read no newspapers, and stays in all day, only
coming out at night like an owl. If he ain't a criminal,
Mr. Denzil, why does he carry on so ?”
“He may dislike his fellow-men, and desire to live
a secluded life.”


SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
19
Miss Greeb still shook her head. “ He may dislike his
fellow-men,” she said with emphasis, “but that don't
keep him from seeing them-ah, that it don't."
“Is there anything wrong in that ?" said Lucian,
contemptuous of these cobweb objections.
“ Perhaps not, Mr. Denzil; but where do those he sees
come from?”
“How do you mean, Miss Greeb?”
“ They don't go in by the front door, that's certain,"
continued the little woman darkly. “ There's only one
entrance to this square, sir, and Blinders the policeman
is frequently on duty there. Two or three nights he's met
Mr. Berwin coming in after dark and exchanged friendly
greetings with him, and each time Mr. Berwin has been
alone.”
" Well ! well ! What of that?” said Denzil im-
patiently.
“This much, Mr. Denzil, that Blinders has gone
round the square after seeing Mr. Berwin, and has seen
shadows—two or three of them-on the sitting-room
blind. Now, sir,” cried Miss Greeb, clinching her argu-
ment, “ if Mr. Berwin came into the square alone, how
did his visitors get in ? "
“ Perhaps by the back," conjectured Lucian.
Again Miss Greeb shook her head. “I know the back
of No. 13 as well as I know my own face,” she declared.
“ There's a yard and a fence, but no entrance. To get
in there you have to go in by the front door or down the
airy steps; and you can't do neither without coming past
Blinders at the square's entrance, and that," finished
Miss Greeb triumphantly, “these visitors don't do."
“ They may have come into the square during the day,
when Blinders was not on duty.”


20
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
66
“No, sir," said Miss Greeb, ready for this objection.
“I thought of that myself, and as my duty to the
square, I have inquired—that I have. On two occasions
I've asked the day policeman, and he says no one
passed.”
“ Then," said Lucian, rather puzzled, “Mr. Berwin
cannot live alone in the house."
Begging your pardon, I'm sure,” cried the pertinacious
woman,“ but he does. Mrs. Kebby has been all over
the house, and there isn't another soul in it. No, Mr.
Denzil, take it what way you will, there's something
that ain't right about Mr. Berwin-if that's his real name,
which I don't believe it is."
“Why, Miss Greeb?"
“Just because I don't,” replied the landlady with
feminine logic. “ And if you think of having anything
to do with this mystery, Mr. Denzil, I beg of you not
to, else you may come to something as is too terrible
to consider—that you may.”
-?”
“Oh, I don't know," cried Miss Greeb, tossing her
head and gliding towards the door. 66 It ain't for me
to say what I think. I am the last person in the world
to meddle with what don't concern me—that I am; and
thus ending the conversation, Miss Greeb vanished, with
significant looks and pursed-up lips.
The reason of this last speech and rapid retreat lay
in the fact that Miss Greeb could bring no tangible
charge against her opposite neighbour ; and therefore
hinted at his complicity in all kinds of horrors, which
she was quite unable to define save in terms more or
" Such as
less vague.
Lucian dismissed such hints of criminality from his


SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
21
mind as the outcome of Miss Greeb's very lively imagina-
tion; yet, even though he reduced her communications
to bare facts, he could not but acknowledge that there
was something queer about Mr. Berwin and his mode
of life. The man's self-pity and self-condemnation ; his
hints that certain people wished to do him harm ; the
curious episode of the shadows on the blind—these
things engaged the curiosity of Denzil in no ordinary
degree ; and he could not but admit to himself that it
would greatly ease his mind to arrive at some reasonable
explanation of Berwin's eccentricities.
Nevertheless, he held that he had no right to pry into
the secrets of the stranger; and honourably strove to
dismiss the tenant of No. 13 and his tantalising environ-
ments from his mind. But such dismissal of unworthy
curiosity was more difficult to effect than he expected.
For the next week Lucian resolutely banished the
subject from his thoughts, and declined to discuss the
matter further with Miss Greeb. That little woman, all
on fire with curiosity, made various inquiries of her
gossips regarding the doings of Mr. Berwin; and in
default of reporting the same to her lodger, occupied
herself in discussing them with her neighbours. The
consequence of this incessant gossip was that the
eyes of the whole square fixed themselves on No. 13 in
expectation of some catastrophe, although no one knew
exactly what was going to happen.
This undefinable feeling of impending disaster com-
municating itself to Lucian, stimulated his curiosity
to such a pitch that, with some feeling of shame for his
weakness, he walked round the square on two several
evenings in the hope of meeting Berwin. But on both
occasions he was unsuccessful,


22
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
On the third evening he was more fortunate, for having
worked at his law books until late at night, he went
out for a brisk walk before retiring to rest. The night
was cold and there had been a slight fall of snow, so
Lucian wrapped himself up well, lighted his pipe, and
proceeded to take the air by tramping twice or thrice
round the square.
Overhead the sky was clear and
frosty, with chill glittering stars and a wintry moon.
A thin covering of snow lay on the pavement, and there
was a white rime on the bare branches of the central
trees.
On coming to the house of Berwin, the barrister saw
that the sitting-room was lighted up and the curtains
undrawn, so that the window presented a square of
illuminated blind. Even as he looked, two shadows
darkened the white surface-the shadows of a
and a woman. Evidently they had come between the
lamp and the window, and so, quite unknowingly, re-
vealed their actions to the watcher. Curious to see the
end of this shadow pantomine, Lucian stood still and
looked intently at the window.
The two figures seemed to be arguing, for their heads
nodded violently and their arms waved constantly. They
retreated out of the sphere of light, and again came into
it, still continuing their furious gestures. Unexpectedly
the male shadow seized the female by the throat and
swung her like a feather to and fro. The struggling
figures reeled out of the radiance, and Lucian heard a
man
faint cry.
Thinking that something was wrong, he rushed up the
steps and rang the bell violently. Almost before the sound
died away, the light in the room was extinguished and
he could see nothing more. Again and again he rang,


SHADOWS ON THE BLIND
23
but without attracting attention; so Lucian finally left
the house and went in search of Blinders, the policeman,
to narrate his experience. At the entrance to Geneva
Square he ran against a man whom he recognised in the
the clear moonlight.
To his surprise he beheld Mark Berwin.


CHAPTER III
AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
“MR. Berwin!” cried Lucian, recognising the man. “Is
it you ? "
“Who else should it be?” replied Berwin, bending
forward to see who had jostled him. " Who else should
it be, Mr. Denzil ?”
"But I thought I thought," said the barrister, unable
to conceal his surprise, “that is, I fancied you were
indoors.”
“ Your fancy was wrong, you see.
I am not indoors."
“ Then who is in your house?”
Berwin shrugged his shoulders. “No one, so far as I
know."
" You are mistaken, sir. There was a light in your
room, and I saw the shadows of a man and a woman
struggling together thrown on the blind.”
“People in my house!” said Berwin, laying a shaking
hand on the arm of Lucian. “Impossible."
“I tell you it is so."
Come, then, and we will look for them,” said Berwin
in a tremulous voice.
“But they have gone by this time.”
" Gonę!”
(24)


AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
25
“ Yes," said Denzil rapidly. “I rang the bell, as I
fancied there was some fatal quarrel going on within.
At once the light was put out, and, as I could attract no
one to the door, I suppose the man and woman must
have fled.”
For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but his grip
on Lucian's arm relaxed, and he moved forward a few
steps. “You must be mistaken, Mr. Denzil,” said he in
altered tones,
“there can be no person in my house. I
locked the door before I went out, and I have been absent
at least two hours.”
“ Then I must be mad or dreaming !” retorted Lucian
with heat.
“We can soon prove if you are either of the two, sir.
Come with me and examine the house for yourself.”
“Pardon me,” said Denzil, drawing back, “it is none
of my business. But I warn you, Mr. Berwin, that others
are more curious than I am. Several times people
have been known to be in your house while you were
absent; and your mode of life, secretive and strange, does
not commend itself to the householders in this neigh-
bourhood. If you persist in giving rise to gossip and
scandal, some busy body may bring the police on the
scene.”
“The police," echoed the old man, now greatly alarmed,
as would appear from his shaking voice. “No! no! that
will never do. My house is my castle; the police dare
not break into it. I am a peaceful and very unfortunate
gentleman, who wishes to live quietly. All this talk of
people being in my house is nonsense.
“Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the shadows,"
said Lucian pointedly.
“Afraid! I am afraid of nothing."


26
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Not even of those who are after you," hinted Denzil,
recalling the conversation of the previous occasion.
Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and stepped back
a pace, as though to place himself on his guard. “What
—what do know about such—such things ?” he panted.
“Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw you."
“Yes! yes ! I was not myself on that night. The wine
was in and the wit was out."
“ The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian drily,
“judging by your agitation then and now."
“I am an unfortunate gentleman,” whimpered Berwin
tremulously.
If
you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you,” said
Lucian ceremoniously. “It seems to be my fate to hold
midnight conversations with you in the cold; but I think
this one had better be cut short."
“One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. « You have
been good enough to place me on my guard as to the talk
my quiet course of life is causing. Pray add to your kind-
ness by coming with me to my house and exploring it
from attic to basement. You will then see that there are
no grounds for scandal, and that the shadows you fancy
you saw on the blind are not those of real people.”
“ They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," replied
Lucian, “as I never heard, to my knowledge, that spirits
could cast shadows.”
Well, come and see for yourself that the house is
empty."
Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had
some scruples about accepting it. To explore an almost
unfurnished mansion with a complete stranger—and one
with an ill-reputation-at the midnight hour, is not an
enterprise to be coveted by any man, however bold he
may
66


28
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Evidently Berwin was trying, for his own ends, to talk
him into a belief that his eyes had deceived him ; but
Denzil was too clear-headed a young man to be so gulled.
Berwin's explanations and excuses only confirmed the
idea that there was something in the man's life which
cut him off from humanity, and which would not bear
the light of day. Hitherto Lucian had heard rather than
seen Berwin ; but now, in the clear light of the lamp, he
had an excellent opportunity of observing both the man
and his quarters.
Berwin was of medium height and lean, with a clean-
shaven face, hollow cheeks, and black sunken eyes. His
hair was grey and thin, his look wild and wandering,
and the hectic colouring of his face and narrow chest
showed that he was far gone in consumption.
Even as
Lucian looked at him he was shaken by a hollow cough,
and when he withdrew his handkerchief from his lips,
the white linen was spotted with blood.
He was in evening dress, and looked eminently refined,
although worn and haggard in appearance. Denzil noted
two peculiar marks about him : the first a serpentine
cicatrice extending on the right cheek from lip almost to
ear; the second a loss of the little finger of the left hand,
which was cut off at the first joint. As he examined the
man, a second and more violent fit of coughing shook
him from head to foot.
“ You seem to be very ill,” said Lucian, pitying the
feebleness of the poor creature.
“Dying of consumption-one lung gone,” gasped Ber-
win. “ It will soon be over-the sooner the better."
“With your health, Mr. Berwin, it is sheer madness
to dwell in this rigorous English climate.”
“No doubt," replied the man, pouring himself out a


AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
29
tumbler of claret, “but I can't leave England, I can't
leave this house even ; but on the whole,” he added, with
a satisfied glance round, " I am not badly lodged.”
Lucian agreed with this speech. The room was fur-
nished in the most luxurious manner. The prevailing
hue was a deep warm red-carpet, walls, hangings and
furniture were all of this cheerful tint. The chairs were
deep and softly cushioned ; on the walls were several oil-
paintings by celebrated modern artists; there were dwarf
bookcases filled with well-chosen books; and on a small
bamboo table near the fire, lay magazines and papers.
The mantelpiece, reaching nearly to the ceiling, was
of oak, framing mirrors of bevelled glass; and on the
numerous shelves cups, saucers and vases of old and
valuable china were placed. There was also a gilt clock,
a handsome sideboard, and a neat smoking-table, on
which stood a cut-glass spirit stand and a box of
cigars. The whole apartment was furnished with taste
and refinement; and Lucian saw that the man who
owned such luxurious quarters must be possessed of
money, as well as the capability of using it in the most
civilised way.
“You have certainly all that the heart of man can
desire in the way of material comforts,” said he, looking
at the supper table, which, with its silver and crystal and
spotless covering, glittered like a jewel under the brilliant
lamplight. “My only wonder is that you should furnish
one room so finely and leave the others bare.”
“My bedroom and bath-room are yonder,” replied
Berwin, pointing towards large folding doors draped with
velvet curtains, and placed opposite to the window.
They are as well furnished as this. But how do you
know the rest of this house is bare ?"


30
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“I can hardly help knowing it, Mr. Berwin. Your
contrast of poverty and riches is an open secret in this
neighbourhood."
“No one has been in my house save yourself, Mr.
Denzil.”
Oh, I have said nothing. You turned me out so
quickly the other night that I had no time for observa-
Besides, I am not in the habit of remarking on
matters which do not concern me."
“I beg your pardon,” said Berwin weakly. “I had no
intention of offending you. I suppose Mrs. Kebby has
been talking ?”
“I should think it probable.”
“ The skirling Jezebel !” cried Berwin. “ I'll pack her
off right away."
“Are you a Scotchman?” asked Denzil suddenly.
Why do you ask?” demanded Berwin without reply-
ing.
“ You used an essentially Scotch word—skirling'.'
“And I used an essentially American phrase-right
away,'
!"-retorted the man. “I may be a Scot, I may be
a Yankee; but I would remind you that my nationality
is my own secret.”
“ I have no wish to pry into your secrets,” said Denzil,
rising from the chair in which he had seated himself,
“and in my turn I would remind you that I am here at
your invitation."
“Don't take offence at a hasty word,” said Berwin
nervously. “I am glad of your company although I seem
rather brusque. You must go over the house with me.”
“I see no necessity to do so.”
“ It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows
on the blind."


AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION
31
“ I can trust my eyes," said Lucian drily, “and I am
certain that before I met you a man and a woman were
in this room.”
“Well," said Berwin, lighting a small lamp, “come
with me and I'll prove that you are mistaken.”


MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY
33
Lucian willingly accepted both these attentions, and
sipped his wine-it was particularly fine claret-before
the fire, while Berwin coughed and shivered and muttered
to himself about the cold of the season. When Lucian
stood up to take his departure, he addressed him, directly.
Well, sir," said he with a sardonic smile, “ are you
convinced that the struggling shadows on yonder blind
were children of your heated fancy ? "
No,” said Denzil stoutly, “I am not !”
“Yet you have seen that there is no one in the
house!”
“Mr. Berwin,” said Lucian, after a moment's thought,
“you propose a riddle which I cannot answer and which
I do not wish to answer. I cannot explain what I saw
to-night; but as surely as you were out of this house,
some people were in it. How this affects you, or what
reason you have for denying it, I do not ask. Keep
your own secrets, and go your own way. I wish you
good-night, sir,” and Lucian moved towards the door.
Berwin, who was holding a full tumbler of rich strong
port, drank the whole of it in one gulp. The strong
liquor reddened his pallid face and brightened his sunken
eyes; it even strengthened his already sonorous voice.
“At least you can inform my good neighbours that I
am a peaceful man, desirous of being left to lead my own
life," he said urgently.
“No, sir ! I will have nothing to do with your
business.
You are a stranger to me, and our acquaintance is too
slight to warrant my discussing your affairs. Besides,"
added Lucian with a shrug, they do not interest me."
“ Yet they may interest the three kingdoms one day,”
said Berwin softly.
• Oh, if they deal with danger to society,” said Denzil,
66
3


MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY
35
could make nothing of Berwin,-as he chose to call him-
self,—he could see no meaning in his wild words and mad
behaviour; but as he walked briskly back to his lodgings
he came to the conclusion that the man was nothing
worse than a tragic drunkard, haunted by terrors en-
gendered by over-indulgence in stimulants. The episode
of the shadows on the blind he did not attempt to ex-
plain, for the simple reason that he was unable to find
any plausible explanation to account therefor.
“And why should I trouble my head to do so ?”
mused Lucian as he went to bed. " The man and his
mysteries are nothing to me. Pah! I have been infected
by the vulgar curiosity of the Square. Henceforth i'll
neither see nor think of this drunken lunatic,” and with
such resolve he dismissed all thoughts of his strange
acquaintance from his mind, which, under the circum-
stances, was perhaps the wisest thing he could do.
But later on certain events took place which forced
him to alter his determination. Fate, with her own
ends to bring about, is not to be denied by her puppets ;
and of these Lucian was one, designed for an important
part in the drama which was to be played.
Mrs. Margery Kebby, who attended to the domestic
economy of Berwin's house, was a deaf old crone with a
constant thirst, only to be assuaged by strong drink; and
a filching hand which was usually in every pocket save
her own.
She had neither kith nor kin, nor friends, nor
even acquaintances; but, being something of a miser,
scraped and screwed to amass money she had no need
for, and dwelt in a wretched little apartment in a back
slum, whence she daily issued to work little and pilfer
much.
Usually at nine o'clock she brought in her employer's


36
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
breakfast from the Nelson Hotel, which was outside the
Square, and while he was enjoying it in bed, after his
fashion, she cleaned out and made tidy the sitting-room.
Berwin then dressed and went out for a walk, despite
Miss Greeb's contention that he took the air only at
night like an owl, and during his absence Mrs. Kebby
attended to the bedroom. She then went about her own
business, which was connected with the cleaning of
various other apartments, and only returned at mid-day
and at night to lay the table for Berwin's luncheon and
dinner, or rather dinner and supper, which were also sent
in from the hotel.
For these services Berwin paid her well, and only en-
joined her to keep a quiet tongue about his private affairs,
which Mrs. Kebby usually did, until excited by too
copious drams of gin, when she talked freely and un-
wisely to all the servants in the Square. It was to her
observation and invention that Berwin owned his bad
reputation.
Well known in every kitchen, Mrs. Kebby hobbled from
one to the other gossiping about the various affairs of her
various employers; and when absolute knowledge failed,
she took to inventing details which did no small credit to,
her imagination. Also, she could tell fortunes by reading
tea-leaves and shuffling cards, and was not above aiding
the maid-servants in their small love affairs.
In short, Mrs. Kebby was a dangerous old witch, who
a century back would have been burnt at the stake; and
the worst possible person for Berwin to have in his house.
Had he known of her lying and prating she would not
have remained an hour under his roof; but Mrs. Kebby
was cunning enough to steer clear of such a danger in the
most dexterous manner. She had a firm idea that


MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY
37
Berwin had, in her own emphatic phrase, “done some-
thing" for which he was wanted by the police, and was
always on the look out to learn the secret of his isolated
life, in order to betray him, or blackmail him, or get him
in some way under her thumb. As yet she had been un-
successful.
Deeming her a weak, quiet old creature, Berwin, in
spite of his suspicious nature, entrusted Mrs. Kebby
with the key of the front door, so that she could enter
for her morning's work without disturbing him. The
sitting-room door itself was not always locked, but
Berwin usually bolted the portal of his bedroom, and
had invariably to rise and admit Mrs. Kebby with his
breakfast.
The same routine was observed each morning, and
everything went smoothly. Mrs. Kebby had heard of the
blind-shadows from several people, and had poked and
pryed about all over the house in the hope of arriving at
some knowledge of the substantial flesh and blood figures
which cast them. But in this quest, which was intended
to put money into her own pocket, she failed entirely;
and during the whole six months of Berwin's tenancy she
never saw a living soul in No. 13 save her employer ;
nor could she ever find any evidence to show that Berwin
had received visitors during her absence. The man was
as great a mystery to Mrs. Kebby as he was to the
Square, in spite of her superior opportunities of learning
the truth.
On Christmas Eve the old woman brought in a cold
supper for Berwin as usual, making several journeys to
and fro between hotel and house for that purpose. She
laid the table, made up the fire, and before taking her
leave asked Mr. Berwin if he wanted anything else.


38
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“No, I think not,” replied the man, who looked
wretchedly ill. “You can bring my breakfast to-morrow."
“At nine, sir ? "
“ At the usual time," answered Berwin impatiently.
“Go away!”
Mrs. Kebby gave a final glance round to see that all
was in order, and shuffled out of the room as fast as
her rheumatism would let her. As she left the house
eight o'clock chimed from the steeple of a near church,
and Mrs. Kebby, clinking her newly received wages in her
pocket, hurried out of the square to do her Christmas
marketing. As she went down the street which led to it,
Blinders, a burly, ruddy-faced policeman, who knew her
well, stopped to make an observation.
“ Is that good gentleman of yours home, Mrs. Kebby?”
he asked, in the loud tones used to deaf people.
« Oh, he's home,” grumbled Mrs. Kebby ungraciously,
“ sittin' afore the fire like Solomon in all his glory.
What d'ye want to know for ? "
“I saw him an hour ago," explained Blinders," and I
thought he looked ill."
“So he do, like a corpse. What of that? We've all
got to come to it some day. 'Ow d’ye know but what he
won't be dead afore morning. Well, I don't care, he's
paid me up till to-night. I'm going to enj'y myself, I
am."
“ Don't you get drunk, Mrs. Kebby, or I'll lock you
9)
up.”
“ Garn!” grunted the old beldame. “Wot's Christmas
Eve for, if it ain't for folk to enj'y theirselves. Y'are on
duty early.”
“I'm takin' the place of a sick comrade, and I'll be on
duty all night. That's my Christmas."


MRS. KEBBY'S DISCOVERY
39
“Well! well ! let every one enj'y hisself as he likes,"
muttered Mrs. Kebby, and shuffled off to the nearest
public-house.
Here she began to celebrate the season, and afterwards
went shopping; then she celebrated the season again,
and later carried home her purchases to the miserable
garret she occupied. In this den Mrs. Kebby, with the
aid of gin and water, celebrated the season until she
drank herself to sleep.
Next morning she woke in anything but an amiable
mood, and had to fortify herself with an early drink before
she was fit to go about her business.
It was almost nine when she reached the Nelson Hotel,
and found the covered tray with Mr. Berwin's breakfast
waiting for her, so she hurried with it to Geneva Square
as speedily as possible, fearful of a scolding. Having
admitted herself into the house, Mrs. Kebby took up the
tray with both hands, and pushed open the sitting-room
door with her foot. Here, at the sight which met her
eyes, she dropped the tray with a crash, and let off a shrill
yell.
The room was in disorder, the table was overturned,
and amid the wreckage of glass and china lay Mark
Berwin with outspread hands-stone dead-stabbed to
the heart.


CHAPTER V
THE TALK OF THE TOWN
Now-A-DAYS events, political, social and criminal, crowd
so closely on one another's heels, that what was formerly
a nine days' wonder is scarcely marvelled at the same
number of minutes. Yet in certain cases episodes of a
mysterious or unexpected nature engage the attention of
a careless world for a somewhat longer period, and provoke
an immense amount of discussion and surmise. In this
category may be placed the crime committed in Geneva
Square; for when the extraordinary circumstances of
the case became known, much curiosity was manifested
regarding the possible criminal and his motive for com-
mitting so apparently useless a crime.
To add to the wonderment of the public, it came out
in the evidence of Lucian Denzil at the inquest that
Berwin was not the real name of the victim; so here the
authorities were confronted with a threefold problem.
They had first to discover the name of the dead man;
second, to learn who it was had so foully murdered him;
and third, to find out the reason why the unknown
assassin should have slain an apparently harmless man.
But these hidden things were not easily brought to
light; and the meagre evidence collected by the police
(40)


THE TALK OF THE TOWN
41
failed to do away with any one of the three obstacles—at
all events until after the inquest. When the jury brought
in a verdict that the deceased had been violently done to
death by some person or persons unknown, the twelve
good men and true stated the full extent of knowledge
gained by Justice in her futile scramble after clues.
Berwin-so called—was dead, his assassin had melted
into thin air, and the Silent House had added a second
legend to its already uncanny reputation. Formerly it
had been simply haunted, now it was also blood-stained,
and its last condition was worse than its first.
The dead man had been found stabbed to the heart by
some long, thin, sharp-pointed instrument which the
murderer had taken away with him-or perhaps her, as
the sex of the assassin, for obvious reasons, could not be
decided. Mrs. Kebby swore that she had left the deceased
sitting over the fire at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve,
and that he had then been fairly well, though far from
enjoying the best of health. When she returned shortly
after nine on Christmas morning the man was dead and
cold. Medical aid was called in at the same time as the
police were summoned; and the evidence of the doctor
who examined the body went to prove that Berwin had
been dead at least ten hours, therefore he must have been
assassinated between the hours of eleven and twelve of
the previous night.
Search was immediately made for the murderer, but no
trace could be found of him, nor could it be ascertained
how he had entered the house. The doors were all locked,
the windows were all barred, and neither at the back nor
in the front was there any outlet left open whereby the
man-if it was a man who had done the deed-could have
escaped.


42
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Blinders, the policeman on duty at the entrance of the
square, gave evidence that he had been on duty there all
night, and that although many servants and owners of
houses belonging to the square had passed in from their
Christmas marketings, yet no stranger had entered. The
policeman knew every one, even to the errand-boys of the
neighbourhood who brought parcels of Christmas goods,
and in many cases had exchanged greetings with the
passers by; but he was prepared to swear, and in fact did
swear at the inquest, that no stranger either came into, or
went out of, Geneva Square.
Also he deposed that when the traffic died away after mid-
night he had walked round the square, and had looked at
every window, including that of No. 13, and had tried every
door, also including that of No. 13, only to find that all
was safe.
Blinders declared on oath that he had not on
Christmas Eve the slightest suspicion of the horrid tragedy
which had taken place in the Silent House during the time
he was on duty.
When the police took possession of the body and man-
sion, search was made in bedroom and sitting-room for
papers likely to throw light on the identity of the victim,
but in vain. No letters or telegrams, or even writing of
any kind, could be discovered; there was no name in the
dead man's books, no mark on his clothes, no initials on
his linen.
The landlord of the house declared that the deceased
had hired the mansion six months before, but had given
no references, and as the landlord was glad to let the
haunted No. 13 on any terms he had not insisted upon
having them. The deceased, said the landlord, had paid
a month's rent in advance in ready money, and at the end
of every month he had discharged his liability in the same


THE TALK OF THE TOWN
43
way. He gave neither cheque nor notes, but paid always
in gold, and beyond the fact that he called himself Mark
Berwin the landlord knew nothing about him.
The firm who had furnished the rooms made almost
the same report, quite as meagre and unsatisfactory.
Mr. Berwin-so the deceased had given his name—had
ordered the furniture and had paid for it in gold. Alto-
gether, in spite of every effort, the police were obliged to
declare themselves beaten. They could not find out the
name of the victim, and therefore were unable to learn
his past life, or trace thereby if he had an enemy likely to
harm him.
Beyond the report given by Lucian of his conversation
with the man, which showed that Berwin certainly
had some enemy whom he dreaded, there was nothing
discovered to show reason for the committal of the
crime.
Berwin-so called—was dead; he was buried under
his assumed name, and there—so far as the obtainable
evidence went—was an end to the strange tenant of
the Silent House. Gordon Link, the detective charged
with the conduct of the case, confessed as much to
Denzil.
"I do not see the slightest chance of tracing Berwin's
past” said he to the barrister. “We are as ignorant
about him as we are of the name of the assassin."
“ Are you sure there is no clue, Mr. Link?'
Absolutely none; even the weapon with which the
crime was committed cannot be found.”
“ You have searched the house?”
Every inch of it, and with the result that I have
found nothing. The surroundings of the case are most
mysterious. If we do not identify the dead we cannot


44
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
9)
hope to trace the murderer. How the wretch got into
the house is more than I can discover."
“.It is strange," admitted Lucian thoughtfully, “yet
in some secret way people were in the habit of entering
the house, and Berwin knew as much; not only that, but
he protected them from curiosity by denying that they
even existed.”
“I don't quite follow you, Mr. Denzil.”
“ I allude to the shadows on the blind, which I saw
myself a week before the murder took place. They were
those of a man and a woman, and must have been cast
by bodies of flesh and blood. Therefore two people must
have been in Berwin's sitting room on that night; yet
when I met Berwin—who was absent at the time—he
denied that anyone could have entered his house without
his knowledge. More, he actually insisted that I should
satisfy myself as to the truth of this by examining the
house."
Which
you did.”
“Yes, but found nothing; yet,” said Lucian with an
air of conviction, “ however the man and woman entered,
they were in the house."
" Then the assassin must have come in by the same
way; but where that way can be, or how it can be found,
is more than I can say.”
“Does the landlord know of any secret passage ?”
“No! I asked him," replied the detective, “but he
stated that houses now-a-days were not built with secret
passages. When Berwin denied that anyone was in the
house, was he afraid, Mr. Denzil ? "
Yes, he seemed to be nervous.'
“And he told you he had enemies ?'
“ He hinted that there were people who wished to see


THE TALK OF THE TOWN
45
him dead. From the way he spoke and the language he
used I am satisfied that he was hiding from the venge-
ance of someone."
Vengeance !” repeated Link, raising his eyebrows.
“ Is not that word a trifle melodramatic ?"
“Perhaps; but to my mind there is more melodrama
in actual life than people fancy. However, Mr. Link,”
added Lucian, “I have come to certain conclusions.
Firstly, that Berwin was in hiding; secondly, that he
saw people secretly who entered in some way we cannot
discover; and thirdly, that to solve the problem it will be
necessary to look into the past life of the dead man."
“Your third conclusion brings us round to the point
whence we started,” retorted Link. “How am I to dis-
cover the man's past ?”
“ By learning who he is, and what is his real name."
“ An easy task," said the detective sarcastically,
sidering the meagre material upon which we have to work.
And how is the business to be accomplished ? "
“By advertisement."
“ Advertisement !"
“ Yes. I wonder the idea did not strike you before,
seeing how often it is used in similar cases. Advertise
a full description of the man who called himself Berwin,
note his physical peculiarities and looks, and circulate
such description by means of handbills and newspapers."
Link looked angry, and laughed rather contemptuously,
as his professional pride was touched by the fact of being
advised by an individual not of his calling.
“ I am not so ignorant of my business as you think,”
he said sharply. “What you suggest has already been
done. There are handbills describing the appearance of
Berwin in every police office in the kingdom.”
con-


46
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“In the newspapers also ?” asked Lucian, nettled by
the detective's tone.
“No; it is not necessary.”
“I don't agree with you. Many people in private life
are not likely to see your handbills. I don't pretend to
advise, Mr. Link,” he added in soothing tones, “but
would it not be wise to use the medium of the daily
papers
?"
“I'll think of it,” said Link, too jealous of his dignity
to give way at once.
“Oh, I quite rely on your discretion,” said Denzil
hastily. “You know your own business best. But if you
succeed in identifying Berwin, will you let me know ? ”
Link looked keenly at the young man.
“Why do you wish to know about the matter ?” he
asked.
“Out of simple curiosity. The case is so mysterious
that I should like to watch you unravel it.”
“Well,” said Link, rather gratified by this tribute to
his power, “I shall indulge your fancy."
The result of this conversation was that Lucian observed
in the newspapers next day an advertisement describing
the looks, and name, and physical peculiarities of the
deceased, with special mention of the loss of the left
hand's little finger, and the strange cicatrice on the right
cheek. Satisfied that the only way to learn the truth had
been adopted by the authorities, Lucian impatiently waited
for the development of the scheme.
Within the week he received a visit from the detective,
*** You were right and I was wrong, Mr. Denzil,”
admitted Link generously; "the newspapers were of
use than the handbills. Yesterday I received a
letter from a lady, who is coming to see me to-morrow
more


THE TALK OF THE TOWN
47
at my office. So if
you care to be present at the inter-
view
you
have only to say so."
“ I should like it above all things,” said Lucian eagerly.
" Who is the lady ?”
“ A Mrs. Vrain, who writes from Bath.”
“ Can she identify the dead man ?”
“ She thinks she can, but of course she cannot be
certain until she sees the body. Going by the descrip-
tion, however,” added Link, " she is inclined to believe
that Berwin was her husband.”


CHAPTER VI
MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
Denzil was much pleased with the courtesy of the detec-
tive Link in permitting him to gain, at first hand, further
details of this mysterious case. With a natural curiosity
engendered by his short acquaintance with the unfortunate
Berwin, he was most anxious to learn why the man had
secluded himself from the world in Geneva Square; who
were the enemies he hinted at as desirous of his death;
and in what manner and for what reason he had met with
so barbarous a fate at their hands. It seemed likely that
Mrs. Vrain, who asserted herself to be the wife of the
deceased, would be able to answer these questions in full;
therefore he was punctual in keeping the appointment at
the office of Link.
He was rather astonished to find that Mrs. Vrain had
arrived, and was deep in conversation with the detective,
while a third person, who had evidently accompanied her,
sat near at hand, silent but attentive to what was being
discussed. As the dead man had been close on sixty
years of age, and Mrs. Vrain claimed to be his wife,
Denzil had quite expected to meet with an elderly woman.
Instead of doing so, however, he beheld a pretty young
lady of not more than twenty-five, whose raiment of
(48)


MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
49
widow's weeds set off her beauty to the greatest advan-
tage. She was a charming blonde, with golden hair
and blue eyes, and a complexion of rose leaf hue. In
spite of her grief her demeanour was lively and engag-
ing, and her smile particularly attractive, lighting up her
whole face in the most fascinating manner. Her hands
and feet were small, her stature was that of a fairy, and
her figure was perfect in every way.
Altogether Mrs. Vrain looked like a sylph or a dainty
shepherdess of Dresden china, and should have been
arrayed in gossamer robes, rather than in the deep
mourning she affected. Indeed, Lucian considered that
such weeds were rather premature, as Mrs. Vrain could
not yet be certain that the murdered man
was her
husband; but she looked so charming and childlike a
creature that he forgave her being too eager to consider
herself a widow. Perhaps with such an elderly husband
her eagerness was natural.
From this charming vision Lucian's eyes wandered to
the attentive third person, a rosy-cheeked, plump little
man, of between fifty and sixty. From his resemblance
to Mrs. Vrain—for he had the same blue eyes and pink-
and-white complexion-Lucian guessed that he was her
father, and such, indeed, proved to be the case. Link,
on Lucian's entrance, introduced him to the sylph in
black, who in her turn presented him to the silvery-haired,
benevolent old man, whom she called Mr. Jabez Clyne.
At the first sound of their voices Lucian detected so
pronounced a twang and so curious a way of collocating
words as to conclude that Mrs. Vrain and her amiable
parent hailed from the States. The little lady seemed to
pride herself on this, and indicated her republican origin
in her speech more than was necessary—at least Denzil
4


50
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
thought so. But then on occasions he was disposed to
be hypercritical.
Say now," said Mrs. Vrain, casting an approving
glance on Lucian's face, “ I'm right-down glad to see
you. Mr. Link here was just saying you knew my
husband, Mr. Vrain."
" I knew him as Mr. Berwin-Mark Berwin,” replied
Denzil, taking a seat.
“Just think of that now," cried Mrs. Vrain, with a
liveliness rather subdued in compliment to her apparel,
“and his real name was Mark Vrain. Well, I guess he
won't need no name now, poor man,” and the widow
touched her bright eyes carefully with a doll's pocket-
handkerchief, which Lucian noted somewhat cynically
was perfectly dry.
“Maybe he's an angel by this time, Lyddy,” said Mr.
Clyne in a cheerful chirping voice, “ so it ain't no use
wishing him back as I can see, We've all got to
negotiate kingdom come some time or another.”
“Not in the same way, I hope,” said Lucian drily;
“ but I beg your pardon, Link, I interrupt your conversa-
tion".
"By no means," replied the detective readily. “We
had just began when you entered, Mr. Denzil.”
“ And it wasn't much of a talk anyhow," said Mrs.
Vrain. “I was only replying to some stupid questions."
“Stupid if you will, but necessary,” observed Link
with gravity. “Let us continue. Are you certain that
this dead man is—or rather was—your husband ? ”
“ I'm as sure as sure can be, sir. Berwin Manor is the
name of our place near Bath, and it looks as though my
husband called himself after it when he changed his
colours. And isn't his first name Mark ? ” pursued the


MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
51
pretty widow.
“Well, my husband was called Mark, too,
so there you are,
-Mark Berwin.”
“Is this all your proof?” asked Link calmly.
“I guess not, though it's enough, I should say. My
husband had a mark on his right cheek-got it fighting
a duel with a German student when he was having a
high time as one of the boys at Heidelberg. Then he
lost part of his little finger-left-hand finger-in an
accident out West. What other proof do you want, Mr.
Link.”
“The proofs you have given seem sufficient, Mrs.
Vrain, but may I ask when your husband left his
home?"
“ About a year ago, eh, poppa ?”
“You are overdoing it, Lyddy,” corrected the father ;
“size it up as ten months and you'll do.”
“ Ten months!” said Lucian suddenly, “and Mr.
Berwin
“Vrain !” struck in Lydia the widow, “ Mark Vrain!”
“I beg your pardon. Well, Mark Vrain took the
house in Geneva Square six months back. Where was
he during the other four ? "
" Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil ?
I know no
more than you do.”
“ Did you not know where he went, on leaving Berwin
Manor ?"
“ Sakes, how should I ? Mark and I didn't pull to-
gether nohow, so he kicked over the traces and made
tracks for the back of beyond."
“And you might square it, Lyddy, by saying as
'twasn't you who upset the apple cart."
• Well, I should smile to think so,” said Mrs. Vrain
vigorously. “I was as good as pie to that old man.”


52
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ You did not get on well together ?” said Link
sharply.
“Got on as well as a cat hitched along with a dog.
My stars ! there was no living with him. If he hadn't
left me, I'd have left him : that's an almighty truth."
“So the gist of all this is that Mr. Vrain left you ten
months ago and did not leave his address.”
“ That's so," said the widow calmly. " I've not seen
nor heard of him for most a year, till pop there tumbled
across your paragraph in the papers. Then I surmised
from the name and the missing finger and the scarred
cheek, that I'd dropped right on to Mark. I wouldn't
take all this trouble for any one else; no sir, not me!”
My Lyddy does not care about being a grass widow,
gentlemen.”
“I don't mind being a grass widow or a real one, so
long as I know how to ticket myself,” said the candid
Lydia; “but seems to me there's no question that Mark's
sent in his checks."
“I certainly think that this man who called himself
Berwin was your husband,” said Denzil, for Mrs.
Vrain's eyes rested on him, and she seemed to expect
an answer.
“Well, then, that means I'm Mr. Vrain's widow ?”
“ I should say so!”
" And entitled to all his pile."
" That depends on the will,” said Lucian drily, for the
light tone of the pretty woman jarred upon his ear.
"Oh, that's all right,” replied Mrs. Vrain, putting a
gold-topped smelling bottle to her nose. “I saw the will
made and know exactly how I come out. The old man's
daughter by his first wife gets the manor and the rents,
and I take the assurance money!”


MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
53
“Was Mr. Berwin-I beg pardon, Vrain—was he
married twice?"
" I should think so !” said Lydia. “ He was a widower
with a grown-up daughter when I took him to church.
Well, can I get this assurance money ? ”
“I suppose so," said Link, “provided you can prove
your husband's death."
“ Sakes alive!” cried Mrs. Vrain briskly. " Wasn't he
murdered ?"
- The man called Berwin was murdered.”
“Well, sir,” said the rosy-cheeked Clyne, with more
sharpness than might have been expected from his peace-
ful aspect, "and ain't Berwin, Vrain ?"
“It would seem so," replied Link coolly. “All your
evidence goes to prove it, yet the assurance company may
not be satisfied with the proof. I expect the grave will
have to be opened, and the remains identified.”
“Ugh!” said Mrs. Vrain with a shrug, “how disgust-
ing. I mean,” she added, colouring, as she saw that
Lucian was rather shocked by her flippancy, “ that sorry
as I am for the old man, he wasn't a good husband to me,
and corpses a week old ain't pleasant things to look on.”
“ Lyddy!” interposed Clyne, hastening to obliterate
if possible, the impression made on the two men by this
foolish speech,“ how you do go on. But
you
know
your
heart is better than your tongue.”
“ It was, to put up so long with Mr. Vrain," said Lydia
resentfully; " but I'm honest if I'm nothing else. I guess
I'm
sorry that Vrain got stuck like a pig; but it wasn't
my fault, and I've done my best to show respect by wear-
ing black. But it is no good going on in this way, poppa,
for I've no call to excuse myself to strangers. What I
want to know is how I'm going to get the dollars.”


54
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
3
“ You'll have to see the assurance company about that,”.
said Link coldly; “my business with you, Mrs. Vrain, is
about this murder.”
“ I know nothing about it," retorted the widow.
“I
haven't set eyes on Mark for most a year.”
“ Have you any idea who killed him ?
I guess not. How should I ?”
“ You might know if he had enemies.”
“He," said Mrs. Vrain, with supreme contempt, “why
he hadn't backbone enough for folks to get riz at him.
He was half-baked.”
“Crazy that is,” remarked Clyne; "always thought
the world was against him, and folk wanted to get quit
of him.”
“ He said he had enemies," hinted Lucian.
“You bet! He no doubt made out that all Europe
was against him,” said Clyne, " that was my son-in-law
Lyddy and he had a tiff, just like other married
couples, and he clears out to lie low in an out-of-the-way
shanty in Pimlico. I tell you, gentlemen, that Vrain
had a chip out of his head. He fancied things, he did;
but no one wanted to harm him that that I know of.”
“ Yet, he died a violent death," said Denzil gravely.
“ That's a frozen fact, sir,” cried Clyne, “and both
Lyddy and I want to lynch the reptile as did it; but we
neither of us know who laid him out."
“ I'm sure I don't,” said Mrs. Vrain in a weeping voice.
· Every one that I knew was civil to him; he had no one
who wanted to kill him when he left Berwin Manor.
Why he went away, or how he died, I can't say."
“ If you want to know how he died,” explained Link,
“I can tell you : he was stabbed.”
“So the journals said ; with a bowię!"
all over.


MRS. VRAIN'S STORY
55
“No, not with a bowie,” corrected Lucian, “but with
some long, sharp instrument.”
“A dagger ?” suggested Clyne.
“I should be even more precise,” said Denzil slowly.
“I should say a stiletto—an Italian stiletto.”
“A stiletto,” gasped Mrs. Vrain, whose delicate pink
colour had faded to a chalky white. “Oh!-oh!
I --" and she fainted forthwith.


CHAPTER VII
THE ASSURANCE MONEY
Mrs. Vrain's fainting fit was of no great duration, and
she shortly recovered her senses, but not her sprightliness.
Her excuse was that the long discussion of her husband's
murder, and the too precise details related to her by Link
before Denzil's arrival had so wrought on her nerves as
to occasion her temporary indisposition.
This reason, which was a trifle weak, since she seemed
to bear her husband's loss with great stoicism, awakened
suspicions in Lucian's mind as to her truthfulness. How-
ever, these were too vague and confused to be put into
words, so the young man remained silent until Mrs.
Vrain and her father departed. This they did almost
immediately; after the widow had given her London and
country address to the detective, in case he should require
her in the conduct of the case.
This matter being attended to she left the room with a
parting smile and especial bow to Lucian.
Link smiled in his turn as he observed this Parthian
shaft, the shooting of which was certainly out of
keeping with Mrs. Vrain's character of a mourning
widow.
“ You seem to have made an impression on the lady,
(56)


THE ASSURANCE MONEY
57
Mr. Denzil,” he said, with a slight cough to conceal his
amusement.
“Nonsense!” replied Lucian, his fair face crimsoning
with vexation. “ She seems to me one of those shallow
women who would sooner flirt with a tinker than pass
unnoticed by the male sex. I don't like her," he con-
cluded with some abruptness.
“On what grounds ?”
“Well she spoke very hardly about her husband, and
seemed rather more concerned about this assurance
money than his death. She is a flippant doll, with a
good deal of the adventuress about her. I don't think,”
said the barrister significantly, “ that she is altogether so
ignorant of this matter as she pretends to be."
The detective raised his eyebrows. “You don't pro-
pose to accuse her of the murder ?” he asked sceptically.
“Oh, no" answered Denzil hastily. “I don't say she
is as guilty as all that; but she knows something, or
suspects something."
“How do you make that out?”
“ She fainted at the mention of stiletto; and I am con-
vinced that Vrain-as I suppose we must call him now-
was killed with one. And again, Link, this woman ad-
mitted that she had married her elderly husband in
Florence. Now, Florence, as you know, is an Italian
town; a stiletto is an Italian weapon. Putting these two
things together, what do you make of Mrs. Vrain's
fainting ?”
“I make nothing of it, Mr. Denzil. You are too sus-
picious. The woman had no reason to rid herself of her
husband as you hint.”
" What about the assurance money ?”
“ There is a motive there, certainly—a motive of gain.


58
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Still, I think you are making a mountain out of a mole-
hill; for I am satisfied that she knows no more who
committed the crime than does the Pope himself.”
“ It is as well to look in every direction,” said Lucian
obstinately.
“Meaning that I should follow this clue you suggest,
which has no existence save in your own fancy. Well,
I'll keep my eye on Mrs. Vrain, you may be sure of that.
It won't be difficult, as she will certainly stay in town
until she identifies the body of her dead husband and gets
the money. If she is guilty I'll track her down; but I
am certain she has nothing to do with the crime. If she
had, it is not likely that she would enter the lion's den by
coming to see me. No, no, Mr. Denzil ; you have found
a mare's nest.”
Lucian shrugged his shoulders, and took up his hat
to go.
“ You may be right," said he reluctantly, “but I have
my doubts of Mrs. Vrain, and shall continue to have them
until she supplies a more feasible explanation of her
fainting. In the meantime I'll leave you to follow out the
case in the manner you judge best. We shall see who is
right in the long run," and Denzil, still holding to his
opinion, took his departure, leaving Link confident that
the young man did not know what he was talking about.
As the detective sat thinking over the late conversation,
and wondering if he could shape any definite course out
of it, Denzil put his head in at the door.
“I say, Link,” he called out, “you'd better find out
if Mrs. Vrain is really the wife of this dead man before
you are guided by her story," after which speech he
hurriedly withdrew, leaving Link to digest it at his
leisure.


THE ASSURANCE MONEY
59
At first Link was indignant that Denzil should deem
him so easily hoodwinked as the speech implied. After-
wards he began to laugh.
• Wife!” said he to himself. “Of course she is the
man's wife. She knows too much about him to be other-
wise; but even granting that Denzil is right-which I
don't for a moment admit—there is no need for me to
prove the truth of his assumption. If this pretty woman
is not the true wife of Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever this
dead man's name actually may be, the assurance company
will get at the rights of the matter before paying over the
money."
Subsequent events reflected credit on this philosophical
speech and determination of Mr. Link. Had Mrs. Vrain
been an impostor her house of cards would have been
knocked down as soon as reared, by the searching inquiry
instituted by the Sirius Assurance Company. It appeared
that the life of the late Mark Vrain was on the books of
the company for no less a sum than twenty thousand
pounds; and under the will, this was to be paid over
to Lydia Vrain, née Clyne. The widow, aided by her
father,—who was a shrewd business man in spite of his
innocent looks,—and the family lawyer of the Vrains,
went systematically to work to establish her own identity,
the death of her husband, and her consequent right to
the money.
The first thing to be done was to prove that the dead
man was really Vrain. There was some little difficulty in
obtaining an order from the authorities for the opening of
the grave and the exhumation of the body; but finally the
consent of those in power was obtained, and there was
little difficulty in the identification of the remains. The
lawyer, Mr. Clyne, Mrs. Vrain herself, and several people


THE ASSURANCE MONEY
61
weak-headed as he was supposed to be—had shown
excellent judgment in dividing his property, real and
personal, so equally between the two claimants. Miss
Vrain, as became the child of the first wife, received the
home and acres of her ancestors; while the second wife
obtained the assurance money, which every one candidly
admitted she quite deserved for having sacrificed her
youth and beauty to an old man like Vrain. In those
days, when all these details were being settled, the widow
was the most popular personage in Bath.
Matters went smoothly with Mrs. Vrain in every re-
spect. The will was duly proved, the twenty thousand
pounds was duly paid over; so, finding herself rich, the
widow came with her father to take up her abode in
London. When settled there one of her first acts was to
send a note to Lucian, telling him that she was in town.
The good looks of the young man had made a consider-
able impression on Mrs. Vrain, and she appeared anxious
to renew the acquaintance, although it had been so
inauspiciously begun in the purlieus of the police courts.
On his part Lucian lost no time in paying his respects,
for after the searching inquiry conducted by the Sirius
Assurance Company, out of which ordeal Mrs. Vrain had
emerged unscathed, he began to think that he had been
too hasty in condemning the little widow. So he called
upon her almost immediately after receiving the invita-
tion, and found her, after the lapse of three months, as
pretty as ever, and clothed in less heavy mourning.
“It's real sweet of you to call, Mr. Denzil,” said she
vivaciously. "I haven't seen anything of you since we
met in Mr. Link's office. And sakes! have I not had a
heap of trouble since then ? "
“ Your trouble has done you no harm, Mrs. Vrain. So


62
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
far as your looks go, three minutes rather than three
months might have passed.”
“Oh, that's all right. I guess it's not good enough to
cry oneself sick for what can't be helped. But I want
to ask you, Mr. Denzil, how that policeman is pro-
gressing with the case.”
“ He has found out nothing," replied Lucian, shaking
his head, “and, so far as I can see, there's not much
chance of learning the truth."
“I never thought there was,” said Mrs. Vrain, with
a shrug. “ Seems to me you don't get round much
in this old country. Well, it don't seem as I can do
much more. I've told all I know, and I've offered a
reward of £500 to discover the man who stuck Mark. If
he ain't found for dollars he won't be found at all.”
“Probably not, Mrs. Vrain. It is now over three months
since the crime was committed, and every day makes the
chance of discovery less."
“But, for all that, Diana Vrain's going on the trail,
Mr. Denzil."
" Diana Vrain! Who is she?”
“My step-daughter, Mark's only child. She was in
Australia--out in the wild west of that country-and
only lately got the news of her father's death. I got a
letter from her last week, and it seems as she's coming
back here to find out who laid her poppa out.”
“ I am afraid she'll not succeed,” said Denzil dubiously.
“ She'll do her best to,” replied Mrs. Vrain with a shrug.
“ She's as obstinate as a battery mule; but it's no use
talking, she will have her own way," and, dismissing the
subject of Miss Vrain, the pretty widow, with an air of
relief, talked on more frivolous subjects until Lucian took
his departure.


CHAPTER VIII
DIANA VRAIN
ALTHOUGH over three months had elapsed since the
murder of Mark Vrain, and the crime had been relegated
to oblivion both by press and people, curiosity con-
cerning it was still active in Geneva Square. The
gossips in that talkative quarter, had exhausted their
tongues and imagination in surmising who had com-
mitted the deed, and how it had been accomplished.
It was now known that the deceased had been of a
good county family, who had left his pretty young wife
in a fit of groundless suspicion; that he had no enemies;
and had withdrawn to the Silent House to save himself
from the machinations of purely imaginary beings. The
general opinion was, that Vrain had been insane; but
even this did not explain the reason of his tragic and un-
foreseen death.
Since the murder, the Silent House had acquired a ten-
fold interest in the eyes of all. The crime, added to its
reputation for being haunted,-invested it with horror;
and its commonplace looks assumed to fanciful onlookers
a grim and menacing aspect, in keeping with its blood-
stained floor and ghostly rooms.
Disheartened by the late catastrophe, which had so
(63)


64
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
greatly enhanced the already evil reputation of the house,
the landlord did not attempt to re-let it, as he knew
very well that no tenant would be bold enough to take it
even at a nominal rent. Mrs. Vrain had sold off the
furniture of the two apartments which her unfortunate
husband had inhabited; and now these were as bare and
lonely as the rest of the rooms.
The landlord made no effort to furbish up or renovate
the mansion, deeming that such expense would be use-
less; so No. 13, deserted by man and cursed by God,
remained vacant and avoided. People came from far
and near to look at it, but no one entered its doors lest
some evil fate should befall. Yet, in strange contradiction
to the horror it created in every breast, the houses on
either side continued to be occupied.
Miss Greeb frequently took a peep across the way at
the empty house, with its curtainless, dusty windows and
smokeless chimneys. She had theorised often on the
murder of Vrain; and being unable to come to any
reasonable conclusion, finally decided that a ghost-the
ghost which haunted the mansion-had committed the
crime. In support of this fantastic opinion, she related
to Lucian at least a score of stories, in which people
foolishly sleeping in haunted rooms had been found dead
in the morning.
“With black finger marks on their throats," said
Miss Greeb dramatically, “and looks of horror in their
eyes; and everything locked up, just like it was in No
13, to show that nothing but a ghost could have killed
them."
“ You forget, Miss Greeb," said Lucian flippantly,
poor Vrain was stabbed with a stiletto; ghosts don't
use material weapons.”


DIANA VRAIN
65
“ How do you know the dagger was a real one ? "
replied Miss Greeb, sinking her voice to a horrified
whisper. " Was it ever seen ? No! Was it ever found ?
No! the ghost took it away. Depend upon it, Mr.
Denzil, it wasn't flesh and blood as made a spirit of
that crazy Berwin.”
“In that case the ghostly criminal can't be hanged,"
said Denzil with a laugh. “ But it's all nonsense, Miss
Greeb. I am astonished that a woman of your sense
should believe in such rubbish."
“Wiser people than I have faith in ghosts,” retorted
the landlady obstinately. “Haven't you heard of the
Haunted House in a West-End square, where a man
and a dog were found dead in the morning, with a valet
as gibbered awful ever afterwards."
“ Pooh! Pooh! that's a story of Bulwer Lytton's.”
6. It is not, Mr. Denzil—it's a fact. You can see the
very house in the square for yourself; and No. 13 is just
such another.”
“ Nonsense! Why I'd sleep in No. 13 to-morrow
night, just to prove that your ghostly fears are all moon-
shine.”
Miss Greeb uttered a screech of alarm. “ Mr. Denzil,”
she cried with great energy, sooner than you should
do that I'd-I'd-well I don't know what I'd do."
“ Accuse me of stealing your silver spoons and have
me locked up,” said Lucian laughing. “Make yourself
easy, Miss Greeb, I have no intention of tempting
Providence. All the same, I don't believe for one minute
that No. 13 is haunted.”
Lights have been seen flitting from room to room.”
" No doubt. Poor Vrain showed me over the house
before he died. His candle explains the lights,”
)
5


66
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
• They have been seen since his death,” said Miss
Greeb solemnly.
Then, as a ghost, Vrain must be walking about with
the old woman phantom who wears brocade and high-
heeled shoes."
Miss Greeb, seeing that she had a sceptic to deal with,
retreated with great dignity from the argument; but
nevertheless to other people maintained her opinion, with
many facts drawn from her imagination and from books
on the supernatural compiled from the imagination-or,
as the various writers called it—the experience of others.
Some agreed with her, others laughed at her; but one
and all acknowledged that, however it came about, whether
by ghostly or mortal means, the murder of Vrain was a
riddle never likely to be solved; and, with other events
of a like nature and mystery, it was relegated to the list
of undiscovered crimes.
After several interviews with Link, the barrister was
also inclined to take this view of the matter. He found
the detective quite discouraged in his efforts to find the
assassin.
“I have been to Bath,” said Link dismally. “I have
examined, so far as I was able, into the past life of Vrain;
but I can find nothing likely to throw light on the sub-
ject. He did not get on well with his wife, and left Bath
ten months before the murder. I tried to trace where he
went to, but could not. He vanished from Bath quite
unexpectedly, and four months later turned up in Geneva
Square, as we knowi; but who killed him, or why he was
killed, I can't say. I'm afraid I'll have to give it up as a
bad job, Mr. Denzil.”
“What! and lose a reward of five hundred pounds,"
said Lucian.


DIANA VRAIN
67
“If it was five thousand I must lose it,” returned the
dejected Link.
" This case beats me. I don't believe
the murderer will ever be run down.”
• Upon my word I am inclined to agree with you,”
said Denzil; and barrister and detective parted, each
convinced that the Vrain case was ended, and that in
the face of the insuperable obstacles presented by it there
was not the slightest chance of avenging the murder of
the unfortunate man. The reading of the mystery was
beyond mortal powers to accomplish.
About the middle of April, nearly four months after the
tragedy, Lucian received a letter containing an invitation
which caused him no little astonishment. The note was
signed Diana Vrain, and having intimated that the writer
had returned only that week from Australia, requested
that Mr. Denzil would be kind enough to call the next
day at the Royal John Hotel in Kensington. Miss Vrain
ended by stating that she had a particular desire to con-
verse with Mr. Denzil, and hoped that he would not fail
to keep the appointment.
Wondering greatly how the lady—who was no doubt
the step-daughter referred to by Mrs. Vrain-had ob-
tained his address, and why she desired to see him so
particularly, Lucian, out of sheer curiosity, obeyed the
summons. Next day at four o'clock - the appointed
hour-he presented himself as requested, and on giving
his name, was shown immediately into the presence of his
correspondent, who occupied a small private sitting-room.
When Miss Vrain rose to greet him, Lucian was amazed
to see how beautiful and stately she was. With dark
hair and eyes, oval face and firm mouth, majestic figure
and imperial gait, she moved towards him an apparent


DIANA VRAIN
69
"I am quite at your service, Miss Vrain. I suppose
you wish to learn all that I know of the tragedy."
“I wish for more than that, Mr. Denzil,” said Diana
quietly. “I wish you to help me in hunting down the
assassin of my father.”
“What! do you intend to re-open the case ?”
Certainly; but I did not know that the case—as
you call it—had been closed. I have come home from
Australia especially to devote myself to this matter.
I should have been in London long ago, but that, out
in Australia, I was with some friends in a part of the
country where it is difficult to get letters. As soon as
Mrs. Vrain's letter about the terrible end of my father
came to hand, I arranged my affairs, and left at once for
England. Since my arrival I have seen Mr. Saker, our
family lawyer, and Mr. Link, the detective. They have
told me all they know, and now I wish to hear what
you have to say."
“I am afraid I cannot help you, Miss Vrain,” said
Lucian dubiously.
“Ah, you refuse to help me ? ”
“Oh, no, no. I shall only be too glad to do what I.
can,” protested Lucian, shocked that she should think
him so hard hearted, “but I know of nothing likely to
solve the mystery. Both myself and Link have done our
best to discover the truth, but without success.”
“Well, Mr. Denzil,” said Diana after a pause, “they
often
say
that a woman's wit can do more than a man's
logic; so you and I must put our heads together and
discover the guilty person. Have you no suspicion ?”
“No. I have no suspicion,” replied Lucian frankly.
“ Have you ?”
“I have! I suspect-a lady."


70
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Mrs. Vrain ?”
“ Yes; how do you know I meant her ? "
“ Because at one time I suspected her myself.”
“You suspected rightly," replied Diana. “I believe
that Mrs. Vrain killed her husband."


CHAPTER IX
A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE
Denzil did not reply at once to the accusation levelled
by Diana at Mrs. Vrain, as he was too astonished at her
vehemence to find his voice readily. When he did speak
it was to argue on the side of the pretty widow.
“I think you must be mistaken,” he said at length.
“ But, Mr. Denzil, you declared that you suspected her
yourself.”
“At one time, but not now," replied Lucian decisively,
“ because at the time of the murder Mrs. Vrain was keep-
ing Christmas in Berwin Manor."
“ Like Nero fiddling when Rome was burning,” re-
torted Diana sharply; "but you mistake my meaning.
I do not say that Mrs. Vrain committed the crime person-
ally, but she inspired and guided the assassin."
" And who is the assassin in your opinion ?"
“ Count Hercule Ferruci."
" An Italian !"
“ As you may guess from the name."
“Now, that is strange,” cried Lucian with some excite-
ment, “ for, from the nature of the wound I believe that
your father was stabbed by an Italian stiletto."
« Aha! said Diana with satisfaction.
66 That
strengthens the accusation I bring against Ferruci.”
(71)


72
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ And, again,” continued Denzil, hardly listening to
what she was saying, “when I mentioned my sus-
picion about the stiletto in the hearing of Mrs. Vrain,
she fainted."
“Which showed that her guilty conscience pricked
her. Oh, I am sure of it, Mr. Denzil. My stepmother
and the count are the criminals."
“Our evidence as yet is only circumstantial,” said
Lucian cautiously. “We must not jump to conclusions.
At present I am completely in the dark regarding this
foreigner.”
“I can enlighten you, but it is a long story."
“ The longer the better,” said Denzil, thinking he could
hear Diana speak and watch her face for hours without
weariness. " I wish for all details; then I shall be in a
better position to judge.”
“What you say is only reasonable, Mr. Denzil. I
shall tell you my father's history from the time he went
to Italy some three years ago. It was in Italy—to be
precise, in Florence—that he met with Lydia Clyne and
her father.”
“One moment,” said Denzil. “ Before you begin will
you tell me what
you
think of the couple.”
“ Think," cried Diana disdainfully. "I think they are
a couple of adventurers; but she is the worst of the two.
The old man, Jabez Clyne, I think moderately well of;
he is a weak fool under the thumb of his daughter. If
you only knew what I have suffered at the hands of that
golden-haired doll."
“I should think you could hold your own, Miss Vrain.”
“Not against treachery and lies," retorted Diana fiercely.
“ It is not my habit to employ such weapons, but my step-
mother used no others. It was she who drove me out of


A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE
73
the house, and made me exile myself to the Antipodes to
escape her falseness. And it was she," added Miss Vrain
solemnly, “who treated my father so ill as to drive him
out of his own home. Lydia Vrain is not the doll you
think her to be; she is a false, cruel, clever adventuress,
and I hate her—I hate her with all my heart and soul.”
This feminine outburst of anger rather bewildered
Denzil, who saw very plainly that Diana was by no
means the lofty angel he had taken her to be in the first
appreciation of her beauty. But her passion of the
moment suited so well with her stately looks, that she
seemed rather a Margaret of Anjou defying York and his
faction than an injured woman concerned with so slight a
thing as the rebuke of one of her own sex for whom she
had little love. Diana saw the surprise expressed on
Lucian's face and her own flushed a little with annoy-
ance that she should have betrayed her feelings so openly.
With a vexed laugh she recovered her temper and com-
posed demeanour.
“You see I am no saint, Mr. Denzil,” she said resum-
ing her seat, for in her anger she had risen to her feet.
“ But even if I were one, I could not have restrained
myself from speaking as I did. When you know my
step-mother as well as I do—but I must talk calmly
about her or you will not understand my reasons for
thinking her concerned in the terrible fate of my poor
father.”
“I am all attention, Miss Vrain.”
“I'll tell you all I know as concisely as possible," she
replied, “and you can judge for yourself if I am right or
wrong
Three years ago my father's health was very bad.
Since the death of my mother—now some ten years—he
had devoted himself to hard study and had lived more or


74
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
less the life of a recluse in Berwin Manor. He was writ-
ing a history of the Elizabethan dramatists, and became
so engrossed with the work that he neglected his health,
and consequently there was danger that he might suffer
from brain fever. The doctors ordered him to leave his
books and to travel, in order that his attention might be
distracted by new scenes and new people. I was to go
with him, to see that he did not resume his studies, so,
in an evil hour for us both, we went to Italy.”
“ Your father was not mad,” said Lucian, think-
ing of the extraordinary behaviour of Vrain in the
square.
“Oh, no,” cried Diana indignantly. " He was a trifle
weak in the head from overwork, but quite capable of
looking after himself.”
“Did he indulge in strong drink?"
Miss Vrain looked scandalised. “My father was singu-
larly abstemious in eating and drinking,” she said stiffly.
Why do you ask such a question ?"
“I'beg your pardon,” replied Lucian with all humility,
“but it was reported in Geneva Square that Berwin—the
name by which your father was known-drank too much;
and when I met him he was certainly not-not quite him-
self," finished the barrister delicately.
“ No doubt his troubles drove him to take more than
was good for him," said Diana in a low voice. " Yet I
wonder at it, for his health was none of the best. Some-
times, I admit, he took sleeping draughts and-and-
drugs."
“He was consumptive," said Lucian, noticing Diana's
hesitation to speak plainly.
“ His chest was weak and consumption may have de-
veloped itself, but when I left England, almost two years
66


A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A Failure
75
back, he was certainly not suffering from that disease.
But I see how it is,” said Diana wringing her hands,
“ during my short absence and under the tyranny of his
wife his physical health and moral principles gave way.
Drink and consumption! Ah, God! were not these ills
enough but what the woman must add murder to cap
them both ?”
“We do not know yet if she is guilty,” said Lucian
quietly. “Will you go on with your story, Miss Vrain ;
later on we can discuss these matters, when I am in pos-
session of the facts. You say it was an evil hour when
you went to Italy."
“ It was indeed,” said Diana sorrowfully, “ for in
Florence, at the Pension Donizetti, on the Lung Arno,
we met with Lydia Clyne and her father. They had only
lately arrived in Italy–from New York, I suppose-but
already she was said to be engaged to a needy Italian
nobleman named Hercule Ferruci."
“ Then I suppose the Clynes were rich,” said Lucian,
“ for I know those Italian nobles too well to suspect that
this Count Ferruci would pay attention to any one but an
heiress."
“She was supposed to be rich, Mr. Denzil. All
Americans, for some reason, are supposed to be million-
aires; but after she married my father I learned that Mr.
Clyne had a very moderate fortune indeed, and his
daughter nothing. It was for that reason that Lydia
threw over the count, to whom she was almost engaged,
and began to pay attention to my father. She heard talk
of his estates in the gossip of the Pension, and believing
him to be rich, she decided to marry him instead of
throwing herself away in a romantic fit on Ferruci."
“ Did she love this Italian ?”


76
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
I
“ Yes, I am sure she did ; and what is more she loves
him still.”
“What! is Count Ferruci still acquainted with Mrs.
Vrain ?"
“He is, as you shall hear. Miss Clyne, as I said,
determined to make a rich marriage by becoming the
second Mrs. Vrain. I never liked her, knowing that she
was false and frivolous; but though I did my best to
stop the marriage, my father would not be controlled.
You know that this woman is pretty and fascinating.”
“ She is certainly the first, but not the last,” interposed
Lucian.
“At all events," resumed Diana disconsolately," she
was sufficiently fascinating to snare my poor foolish old
father. We remained four months in Florence, and
before we left it Lydia Clyne became Mrs. Vrain.
could do nothing with my father, as he was possessed of
the headstrong passion of an old man, and, moreover,
Lydia had learned to know his weak points so well that
she could twist him round her finger. But, angered as I
was at my father's folly, I loved him too well to leave
him at the time, therefore I returned to Berwin Manor
with the pair.
“ There, Mr. Denzil,” continued Miss Vrain, her face
growing dark, " Lydia made my life so wretched and in-
sulted me so openly that I was forced, out of self-respect,
to leave the house. I had some relatives in Australia, to
whom I went out on a visit. Alas! I wish I had not
done so; yet remain with my colonial cousins I did, until
recalled to England by the terrible intelligence of my
father's untimely end."
“ So the marriage was a failure ? "
“ Yes; even before I left Lydia openly neglected my


A MARRIAGE THAT WAS A FAILURE
77
father. I am bound to say that Mr. Clyne, who is much
the better of the two, tried to make her conduct herself
in a more becoming manner. But she defied him and
every one else. After my departure I received letters
from a friend of mine, who told me that Lydia had invited
Count Ferruci over on a visit. My father, finding that
he could do nothing and seeing what a mistake he had
made, returned to his books, and soon became ill again.
Instead of looking after him, Lydia—as I heard-en-
couraged him to study hard, hoping, no doubt, that he
would die, and that she would be free to marry Count
Ferruci. Then my father left the house.”
“Why? That is a very necessary detail.”
Diana thought for a moment, then shook her head
despondingly. “That I cannot explain,” she said with
a sigh, “ as I was in Australia at the time. But I expect
that his brain grew weaker with study, and perhaps with
the strong drink and drugs which this woman drove him
to take. No doubt the poor man grew jealous of Ferruci;
and unable to assert himself, seeing how ill he was, left
the house and retired to Geneva Square, to meet his
death as we know."
“ But all this is supposition,” remonstrated Lucian.
“We really do not know why Mr. Vrain left the house."
“ What does Lydia say ?”
“She gives no feasible explanation."
Nor will she. Oh ! ” cried Diana, " is there no way
of getting at the truth of this matter? I feel certain that
Lydia and the count are guilty.”
“You have no proofs,” said Denzil, shaking his head.
“No proofs ! why you said yourself that a stiletto
“ That is a supposition on my part," interrupted Lucian
quickly. “I cannot say for certain that the deed was


78
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
committed with such a weapon.
Besides, if it was, how
can you connect the Italian with the deed ?
“Can we not find a proof?”
" I fear not."
• But if we search the house ?'
“ There is little use in doing that," rejoined Lucian.
“However, if it will give you any satisfaction, Miss
Vrain, I will take you over the house to-morrow morn-
ing.”
“ Do," cried Diana, “and we may find proof of Lydia's
guilt in a way she little dreams of. Good-bye, Mr.
Denzil—till to-morrow.”


CHAPTER X
THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
Tas neve
The beauty and high spirit of Diana made so deep an
impression on Lucian that he determined to aid her by
every means in his power in searching for the assassin
of her father. As yet Denzil had reached the age of
twenty-five without having been attracted in any marked
degree towards womankind; or, to put it more precisely,
he had not yet been in love. But now it seemed that
the hour which comes to all of Adam's sons had come to
him ; for on leaving Diana he thought of nothing else
but her lovely face and charming smile; and, until he
met her again, her image
absent from his
mind.
He took but a languid interest in his daily business
or social pursuits, and wrapped up in inwardly con-
templating the beauties of Diana, he appeared to move
amongst his fellow-men like one in a dream. And
dreamer he was, for there was no substantial basis for
his passion.
Many people--particularly those without imagination
-scoff at the idea that love can be born in a moment,
but such is often the case, for all their ill-advised jibes.
A man may be brought into contact with the loveliest
(79)


80
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
and most brilliant of women, yet remain heart-whole;
yet unexpectedly a face—not always the most beautiful-
will fire him with sudden fervour even against his better
judgment. Love is not an affair of reason, to be clipped
and measured by logic and calculation, but a devouring,
destroying passion, impatient of restraint and utterly re-
gardless of common-sense. It is born of a look, of a
smile, of a sigh, of a word; it springs up and fructifies
more speedily than did Jonah's gourd, and none can say
how it begins or how it will end.' It is the ever-old,
ever-new riddle of creation, and the more narrowly its
mystery is looked into, the more impossible does it be-
come of solution. The lover of to-day, with centuries
of examples at his back, is no wiser in knowledge than
was his father Adam.
Although Lucian was thus stricken mad after the
irrational methods of Cupid, he had sufficient sense
not to examine too minutely into the reasons for this
sudden passion. He was in love, and admitting as much
to himself, there was an end of all argument. The long
lane of his youthful and loveless life had turned in an-
other direction at the sign-post of a woman's face, and
down the new vista the lover saw flowering meadows,
silver streams, bowers of roses, and all the landscape
of Arcadia.
He was
a piping swain and Diana
complaisant shepherdess; but they had not yet entered
into the promised Arcadia, and might never do so unless
Diana was as kindly as he wished her to be.
Lucian was in love with Diana, but as yet he could
not flatter himself that she was in love with him, so he
resolved to win her affection—if it was free to be bestowed
-by doing her will, and her will was to revenge the death
of her father. This was hardly a pleasant task to Lucian
a


THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
81
in his then peace-with-all-the-world frame of mind; but
seeing no other way to gain a closer intimacy with the
lady of his love, he took the bitter with the sweet and set
his shoulder to the wheel.
The next morning, therefore, Lucian called on the land-
lord of No. 13 and requested the keys of the house. But
it appeared that these were not in the landlord's keeping
at the moment.
“I gave them to Mrs. Kebby, the charwoman," said
Mr. Peacock, a retired grocer, who owned the greater part
of the square.
6. The house is in such a state that I
thought I'd have it cleaned up a bit.”
“With a view to a possible tenant, I suppose ? "
“I don't know," replied Peacock with a rueful shake of
his bald head, “ although I'm hoping against hope. But
what with the murder and the ghost there don't seem
much chance of letting it. What might you be wanting
in No. 13, Mr. Denzil ? "
“I wish to examine every room, to find if possible a
clue to this crime,” explained Lucian, suppressing the
fact that he was to have a companion.
“You'll find nothing, sir. I've looked into every room
myself. However, you'll find Mrs. Kebby cleaning up,
and she'll let you in if you ring the bell. You aren't
thinking of taking the house yourself, I suppose,” added
Peacock wishfully.
“No, thank you. My nerves are in good order just
now; I don't want to upset them by inhabiting a house
with so evil a reputation."
“Ah, that's what everyone says,” sighed the grocer.
“I wish that Berwin, or Vrain, or whatever he called
himself, had chosen some other place to be killed in."
“ I'm afraid people who meet with unexpected deaths
6


82
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
can't arrange these little matters beforehand,” said Lucian
drily, and walked away, leaving the unfortunate landlord
still lamenting over his unlucky possession of a haunted
and blood-stained mansion.
Before going to No. 13, Lucian walked down the
street leading into Geneva Square, in order to meet
Diana, who was due at eleven o'clock. Punctual as
the barrister was, he found that Miss Vrain, in her
impatience, was before him ; for he arrived to see her
dismiss her cab at the end of the street, and met her half
way down.
His heart gave a bound as he saw her graceful figure,
and he felt the hot blood rise to his cheeks as he advanced
to meet her.
Diana, quite unconscious of having, like her namesake
the moon, caused this spring-tide of the heart, could not
forbear a glance of surprise ; but greeted her coadjutor
without embarrassment and with all friendliness. Her
thoughts were too taken up with her immediate task of
exploring the scene of the crime to waste time in con-
jecturing the reason of the young man's blushes. Yet
the instinct of her sex might have told her the truth, and
probably it would have, but that it was blunted, or rather
not exercised, by reason of her preoccupation.
“ Have you the key, Mr. Denzil ? ” said she eagerly.
“No; but I have seen the landlord, and he has given
us permission to go over the house. A charwoman who
is cleaning up the place will let us in."
“A charwoman," repeated Miss Vrain, stopping short,
“and cleaning up the house. Is it, then, about to receive
a new tenant ?
Oh, no; but the landlord wishes it to be aired and
swept; to keep it in some degree of order, I presume.”


THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
83
<<
“ What is the name of this woman?”
“Mrs. Kebby."
“ The same mentioned in the newspaper reports as
having waited on my unhappy father?"
“ The same,” replied Lucian with some hesitation;
“ but I would advise you, Miss Vrain, not to question
her too closely about your father.”
Why not? Ah, I see; you think her answers about
his drinking habits will give me pain. No matter, I am
prepared for all that. I don't blame him so much as
those who drove him to intemperance. Is this the
house?” she said looking earnestly at the neglected
building before which they were standing.
· Yes," replied Lucian ringing the bell, “ it was in this
house that your father came to his untimely end. And
here is Mrs. Kebby."
That amiable crone had opened the door while the
young man was speaking, and now stood eyeing her
visitors with a blear-eyed look of dark suspicion.
“What is't ye want?” she demanded with a raven-like
croak.
“Mr. Peacock has given this lady and myself permis-
sion to go over the house,” responded Lucian trying to
pass.
“And how do I know if he did ? ” grumbled Mrs.
Kebby, blocking the way.
“ Because I tell you so.”
“And because I am the daughter of Mr. Vrain,” said
Diana stepping forward.
" Lord love ye, miss, are ye?” croaked Mrs. Kebby
stepping aside. “And ye've come to look at your pa's
blood, I'll be bound.”
Diana turned pale and shuddered, but controlling her-


84
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
self by an effort of will she swept past the old woman
and entered the sitting-room. “Is this the place ?" she
asked Lucian, who was holding the door open.
“ That it is, miss," cried the charwoman, who had
hobbled after them, “and yonder is the poor gentleman's
blood; it soaked right through the carpet,” added Mrs.
Kebby with ghoulish relish; “Lor', how it must 'ave
poured out.”
“Hold your tongue, woman,” said Lucian roughly,
seeing that Diana looked as though about to faint; “get
on with
your
work.”
“ I'm going; it's upstairs I'm sweeping,” growled the
crone retreating. “You'll bring me to you if ye give a
holler. I'll show ye round for a shilling.”
“ You shall have double if you leave us alone,” said
Lucian pointing to the door.
Mrs. Kebby's blear eyes lighted up, and she leered
amiably at the couple.
“I dessay it's worth two shillings,” she said chuckling
hoarsely, “Oh, I'm not so old but what I don't know
two turtle doves. He, he! to kiss over yer father's blood.
Lawks, what a match t'will be. He, he!”
Still laughing hoarsely, Mrs. Kebby in the midst of her
unholy joy was pushed out of the door by Lucian, who
immediately afterwards turned to see if Diana had over-
heard her ill-chosen and ominous words. But Miss
Vrain, with a hard, white face, was leaning against the
wall, and gave no sign of such knowledge. Her eyes
were fixed on a dull-looking red stain of a dark hue,
irregular in shape, and her hands the while were pressed
closely against her bosom as though she felt a cruel
pain in her heart. With bloodless cheek and trembling
lip the daughter looked upon the evidence of her
19


THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
85
to room.
father's death. Lucian was alarmed by her unnatural
pallor.
“ Miss Vrain," he exclaimed starting forward, “you
are ill; let me lead you out of this house."
“No," said Diana waving him back, “not till we
examine every inch of it; don't speak to me, please. I
wish to use my eyes rather than my tongue.”
Denzil, both as a lover and a friend, respected this
emotion of the poor young lady, so natural under the
circumstances; and, in silence, conducted her from room
All were empty and still dusty, for Mrs.
Kebby's broom swept sufficiently lightly, and the foot-
falls of the pair echoed hollowly in the vast spaces.
Diana looked into every corner, examined every fire-
place, attempted every window, but in no place could she
find any extraneous object likely to afford a clue to the
crime. They went down into the basement, and ex-
plored the kitchen, the servant's parlour, the scullery
and the pantry, but with the same unsatisfactory result.
The kitchen door, which led out into the back yard,
showed signs of having been lately open; but when
Diana drew Lucian's attention to this fact, as the
murderer having possibly entered thereby, he assured her
that it had only lately been opened by the detective Link
when he was searching for clues.
“I saw this door,” added Lucian, striking it with his
cane, a week before your father was killed. He showed
it to me himself, to prove that no one could have entered
the house during his absence; and I was satisfied then,
from the rusty condition of the bolts and the absence of
the key in the lock, that the door had not been opened-
at all events during his tenancy."
" Then how could those who killed him have entered ?"


86
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
")
“ That is what I wish to learn, Miss Vrain. But why
do you speak in the plural ?”
“Because I believe that Lydia and Ferruci killed my
father."
“But I have proved to you that Mrs. Vrain remained
at Bath."
“I know it,” replied Diana quickly, “but she sent
Ferruci up to kill my father, and I speak in the plural
because I think-in a moral sense—she is as guilty as
the Italian.”
“ That may be, Miss Vrain : but as yet we have not
proved their guilt."
Diana made no answer, but followed by Lucian ascended
to the upper part of the house, where they found Mrs.
Kebby sweeping so vigorously that she had raised a kind
of dust storm. As soon as she saw the couple she
hobbled towards them to cajole them, if possible, into
giving her money.
For a few moments Diana looked at her haughtily, not
relishing the familiarity of the old dame, but unexpectedly
she stepped forward with a look of excitement.
“Where did you get that ribbon ? she asked Mrs.
Kebby, pointing to a scrap of personal adornment on the
neck of the rusty old creature.
- This ? ” croaked Mrs. Kebby. "I picked it up in
the kitchen downstairs. It's a pretty red and yaller
thing, but of no value, miss, so I don't s'pose you'll take
it orf me.”
Paying no attention to this whimpering, Diana
twitched the ribbon out of the old woman's hands
and examined it. It was a broad yellow ribbon of rich
silk spotted with red-very noticeable and evidently of
foreign manufacture,


THE PARTI-COLOURED RIBBON
87
“ It is the same,” cried Diana greatly excited. “Mr.
Denzil, I bought this ribbon myself in Florence.”
“Well,” said Lucian, wondering at her excitement,
"and what does that prove ?”
“ This : that a stiletto which my father bought in
Florence at the same time has been used to kill him. I
tied this ribbon myself round the handle of the stiletto."


CHAPTER XI
FURTHER DISCOVERIES
THE silence which followed Diana's announcement re-
garding the ribbon and stiletto-for Lucian kept silent
out of sheer astonishment—was broken by the hoarse
voice of Mrs. Kebby.
“ If ye want the ribbon, Miss, I'll not say no to a shil-
ling. With what your good gentleman promised that will
be three as I'm ready to take,” and Mrs. Kebby held out
a dirty claw for the silver.
" You'll sell it, will you ?” cried out Diana indignantly,
pouncing down on the harridan.
- How dare you keep
what isn't yours? If you had shown the detective this,"
shaking the ribbon in Mrs. Kebby's face," he might have
caught the criminal."
“Pardon me," interposed Lucian finding his voice. “I
hardly think so, Miss Vrain; for no one but yourself
could have told that the ribbon adorned the stiletto.
Where did you see the weapon last ? "
“ In the library at Berwin Manor. I hung it up on the
wall myself, by this ribbon.”
Are you sure it is the same ribbon ? "
“I am certain," replied Diana emphatically. “I can-
not be mistaken; the colour and pattern are both peculiar.
)
(88)


FURTHER DISCOVERIES
89
>>
Where did you find it ? ” she added, turning to Mrs.
Kebby.
“In the kitchen, I tell ye," growled the old woman
sullenly. “I only found it this blessed morning. 'Twas
in a dark corner near the door as leads down to the wood
shed. How was I to know 'twas any good ? ”
“Did you find anything else?" asked Lucian mildly.
“No I didn't, sir ! "
“Not a stiletto ?” demanded Diana, putting the ribbon
in her pocket.
“ I don't know what's a stiletter, Miss. But I didn't
find nothing; and I ain't a thief, though some people as
sets themselves above others by taking ribbons as doesn't
belong to 'em mayn't be much good."
“ The ribbon is not yours !” said Diana haughtily.
“ Yes it are! findings is keepings with me," answered
Mrs. Kebby.
“Don't anger her,” whispered Denzil, touching Miss
Vrain's arm, we may
find her useful.”
Diana looked from him to the old woman, and opened
her purse, at the sight of which Mrs. Kebby's sour face
relaxed. When Miss Vrain gave her half-a-sovereign, she
quite beamed with joy. “The blessing of heaven on you,
my dear,” she said with a curtsey. “Gold ! good gold !
ah, this is a brave day's work for me; thirteen blessed
shillings.”
“ Ten, you mean, Mrs. Kebby!”
“Oh no, sir," cried Mrs. Kebby obsequiously, “the lady
gave me ten, bless her heart; but you've quite forgot your
three.”
" I said two!”
“ Ah, so you did, sir! I'm a poor schollard at 'rith-
metic.”
9)


90
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ You are clever enough to get money out of people,”
said Diana, who was disgusted at the avarice of the
hag, “however, for the present you must be content
with what I have given you. If, in cleaning this house,
you find any other article, whatever it may be, you shall
have another ten shillings on consideration that you take
it at once to Mr. Denzil.”
Mrs. Kebby, who was tying up the piece of gold in the
corner of her handkerchief, nodded her old head with
much complacency. “I'll do it, Miss; that is if the
gentleman will pay on delivery. I like cash.”
6. You shall have cash ! said Lucian laughing; and
then as Diana intimated her intention of leaving the
house, he descended the stairs in her company.
Miss Vrain kept silence until they were outside in the
sunshine, when she cast an upward glance at the warm
blue sky-dappled with light clouds.
“I am glad to be out of that house,” she said with
a shudder, "there is something in its dark and freezing
atmosphere which chills my spirits.”
“ It is said to be haunted you know !” said Lucian
carelessly ; then after a pause he spoke on the subject
which was uppermost in his mind. “ Now that
you
have
this piece of evidence, Miss Vrain, what do you intend
to do?"
“ Make sure that I have made no mistake, Mr. Denzil.
I shall go down to Berwin Manor this afternoon. If the
stiletto is still hanging on the library wall by its ribbon
I shall admit my mistake! if it is absent, why then I
shall return to town and consult with you as to what
is best to be done. You know I rely on you."
“I shall do whatever you wish, Miss Vrain !” said
Lucian fervently.


FURTHER DISCOVERIES
91
“ It is very good of you," replied the lady gratefully," for
I have no right to take up your time in this manner.”
“ You have every right—that is I mean-I mean,"
stammered Denzil thinking from the surprised look of
Miss Vrain that he had gone too far at so early a stage of
their acquaintance. “I mean that as a briefless barrister
I have ample time at my command, and I shall only be
too happy to place it and myself at your service. And
moreover,” he added in a lighter tone, “I have some
selfish interest in the matter also; for it is not every one
who finds so difficult a riddle as this to solve. I shall
never rest easy in my mind until I unravel the whole of
this tangled skein."
“How good you are," cried Diana impulsively, extend-
ing her hand, “it is as impossible for me to thank you
sufficiently now for your kindness, as it will be to reward
you hereafter should we succeed.”
“As to my reward !” said Lucian retaining her hand
longer than was necessary, “we can decide what I merit
when your father's death is avenged.”
Diana coloured and turned away her eyes, withdrawing
her hand in the meantime from the too warm clasp of the
young man. A sense of his meaning was suddenly borne
in upon her by look and clasp: and she felt a maidenly
confusion at the momentary boldness of this undeclared
lover. However, with feminine tact she laughed off the
hint, and shortly afterwards took her leave, promising to
communicate as speedily as possible with Lucian regard-
ing the circumstances of her visit to Bath.
The barrister wished to escort her back to the Royal
John Hotel in Kensington, but Miss Vrain, guessing his
feelings, would not permit this; so Lucian, hat in hand,
was left standing in Geneva Square, while his divinity


92
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
drove off in a prosaic hansom. With her went the glory
of the sunlight, the sweetness of the spring; and Denzil,
more in love than ever, sighed hugely as he walked
slowly back to his lodgings.
For doleful moods, hard work and other interests
are the sole cure: therefore that same afternoon Lucian
returned to explore the Silent House on his own account.
It had struck him as suggestive—that the parti-coloured
ribbon to which Diana attached such importance, should
have been found in so out-of-the-way a corner as the
threshold of the door which conducted to what Mrs.
Kebby with characteristic misrepresentation called the
wood-shed. In reality the place in question was a cellar
which extended under the soil of the back yard, and was
lighted from the top by a sky-light placed on a level with
the ground.
On being admitted again by Mrs. Kebby, and sending
that ancient female to her Augean task of cleansing the
house, Lucian descended to the basement in order to
examine kitchen and cellar more particularly.
If, as
Diana stated, the ribbon had been knotted loosely about
the hilt of the stiletto; it must have fallen off unnoticed
by the assassin, when, weapon in hand, he was retreating
from the scene of crime.
“ He must have come down here from the sitting-
room !” mused Denzil as he stood in the cool damp
kitchen. “ And as the ribbon was found by Mrs. Kebby
near yonder door—it is most probable that he left the
kitchen by that passage for the cellar. Now it remains
for me to find out how he made his exit from the cellar:
and also I must look for the stiletto, which he possibly
dropped in his flight as he did the ribbon.”
While thus soliloquising Denzil lighted a candle which


94
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Good,” he exclaimed, much gratified by this discovery.
"I now see how the assassin entered. No wonder the
kitchen door was bolted and barred, and that no one was
seen to visit Vrain by the front door. Any one who knew
the position of that skylight could obtain admission easily
at any hour by descending the ladder, and passing through
cellar and kitchen to the upper part of the house. So
much is clear: but I must next discover how those who
entered got into this yard.”
And indeed there seemed no outlet; for the yard was
enclosed on three sides by a fence of palings the height of
a man, and rendered impervious to damp by a coating of
tar: on the fourth side by the house itself. Only over
the fence—which was no insuperable obstacle—could a
stranger have gained access to the yard; and towards the
fence opposite to the house Lucian walked. In it there
was no gate, or opening of any kind, so it would appear
that to come into the yard a stranger would need to climb
over; a feat easily achieved by a moderately active man.
As Denzil examined this frail barrier his eye was
caught by a fluttering object on the left—that is, the side
in a line with the skylight. This he found was the scrap
of a woman's veil of thin black gauze spotted with velvet.
At once his thoughts reverted to the shadow of the
woman on the blind, and the suspicions of Diana Vrain.
“Great Heavens !” he thought, can that doll of a
Lydia be guilty after all.”


96
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Lucian made this last remark with the greatest con-
fidence, as he was satisfied from a long acquaintance
with his landlady that there was very little concerning
her own neighbourhood of which she was ignorant. The
result verified his belief, for when Miss Greeb came in to
clear the table-a duty she invariably undertook so as to
have a chance of conversing with her admired lodger-
she was able to afford him the fullest information on the
subject The position of the house in question; the
name of its owner; the character of its tenants; she was
thoroughly well posted up in every item, and willingly
imparted her knowledge with much detail and comment.
“No. 9 Jersey Street," said she unhesitatingly; "that
is the number of the house at the back of the haunted
mansion, Mr. Denzil. I know it as well as I know my
ten fingers."
“To whom does it belong ?” asked Lucian.
“ Mr. Peacock! he owns most of the property round
about here, having bought up the land when the place
was first built on. He's seventy years of age you know,
Mr. Denzil," continued Miss Greeb conversationally, "and
rich !-Lord, I don't know how rich he is. Building
houses cheap and letting them dear; he has made more
out of that than in sanding his sugar and chicorying his
coffee. He
“What is the name of his tenant?" interrupted Lucian,
cutting short this rapid sketch of Peacock's life.
“ Mrs. Bensusan, one of the largest women here-
abouts.”
“I don't quite understand.”
“ Fat, Mr. Denzil; she turns the scale at eighteen
stone, and has pretty well broke every weighing machine
in the place."


THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER
99
6. You can go
“Lord ! " cried Miss Greeb taken by surprise. “You
don't say, sir, that Mr. Wrent is a murdering villain
steeped in gore."
“No! no!" replied Lucian smiling at this highly
coloured description, “do not jump to conclusions, Miss
Greeb; so far as I am aware this Mr. Wrent you speak
of is innocent. Do you know Mrs. Bensusan and her
house well ?”
" I've visited both several times, Mr. Denzil."
“Well, then, tell me," continued the barrister, “is the
house built with a full frontage like those in this square ?-
I mean to gain Mrs. Bensusan's back yard, is it necessary
to go through Mrs. Bensusan's house?
“No!" replied Miss Greeb shutting her eyes to conjure
up the image of her friend's premises,
round the back through the side passage which leads in
from Jersey Road.”
“ H'm !” said Lucian in a dissatisfied tone.
" That
complicates matters ! ”
“ How so, sir ? demanded the curious landlady.
“ Never mind just now, Miss Greeb. Do you think
you could draw me a plan of this passage of Mrs.
Bensusan's house, and of No. 13 with the yards between?”
“I never could sketch," said Miss Greeb regretfully,
" and I am no artist, Mr. Denzil ; but I think I can do
what you want."
“ Here is a sheet of paper and a pencil.
sketch me the houses as clearly as you can ? "
With much reflection, and nibbling of the pencil, and
casting of her eyes up to the ceiling to aid her memory,
Miss Greeb in ten minutes produced the required
sketch.
“ There you are, Mr. Denzil," said Miss Greeb placing
Will you
99


IOO
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
this work of art before the barrister, " that's as good as
I can draw.”
" It is excellent, Miss Greeb," replied Lucian examining
the plan. “I see that any one can get into Mrs. Ben-
susan's yard through the side passage.”
Oh, yes! but I don't think a person could without
being seen by Mrs. Bensusan or Rhoda."
"Who is Rhoda ?”
“ The servant; she's as sharp as a needle, but an idle
slut for all that, Mr. Denzil. They say she's a gipsy of
some kind."
“ Is the gate of this passage locked at night ? "
“ Not that I know of !”
“ Then what is to prevent any one coming in under
cover of darkness and climbing the fence ? He would
escape then being seen by the landlady and her servant."
“I daresay ; but he'd be seen climbing over the fence
from the back windows of the houses on each side of
No. 13.”
“ Not if he chose a dark night for the climbing."
Well, even if he did, how could he get into No. 13?
argued Miss Greeb. “ You know I've read the report of
the case, Mr. Denzil, and it couldn't be found out (as
the kitchen door was locked, and no stranger entered the
square) how the murdering assassin got in."
“I may discover even that,” replied Lucian, not choos-
ing to tell Miss Greeb that he had already discovered the
entrance. “With time and inquiry and observation we
can do much. Thank you, Miss Greeb,” he continued,
slipping the drawing of the plan into his breast coat
pocket. “I am much obliged for your information. Of
course you'll repeat our conversation to no one ? "
“I swear to breathe no word,” said Miss Greeb drama-


THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER
IOI
tically; and left the room greatly pleased with this secret
understanding, which had quite the air of an innocent
intrigue such as was detailed in journals designed for the
use of the family circle.
For the next day or two Lucian mused over the in-
formation he had obtained, and made a fresh drawing
of the plan for his own satisfaction; but he took no
steps on this new evidence, as he was anxious to submit
his discoveries to Miss Vrain before doing so. At the
present time Diana was at Bath taking possession of
her ancestral acres, and consulting the family lawyer on
various matters connected with the property.
Once she wrote to Lucian, advising him that she had
heard several pieces of news likely to be useful in clear-
ing up the mystery; but these she refused to communi-
cate save at a personal interview. Denzil was thus kept
in suspense, and unable to rest until he knew precisely
the value of Miss Vrain's newly acquired information ;
therefore it was with a feeling of relief that he received
a note from her asking him to call at three o'clock on
Sunday at the Royal John Hotel.
Since her going and coming a week had elapsed.
Now that his divinity had returned and he was about
to see her again, the sun shone once more in the heavens
for Lucian, and he arrayed himself for his visit with the
utmost care. His heart beat, and his colour rose, as he
was ushered into the little sitting-room: and he thought
less of the case at the moment than of the joy in seeing
Miss Vrain once more, in hearing her speak and watch-
ing her lovely face.
On her part, Diana, recollecting their last meeting, or
more particularly their parting, blushed in her turn, and
gave her hand to the barrister with a new-born timidity.


102
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
She also was inclined to like Lucian, more than was
reasonable for the peace of her heart; so these two
people, each drawn to the other, should have come to-
gether as lovers even at this second meeting.
But, alas for the prosaicness of this work-a-day world,
they had to assume the attitudes of lawyer and client; and
discourse of crime instead of love. The situation was
a trifle ironical; and must have provoked the laughter
of the gods.
“Well ? ” asked Miss Vrain getting to business as
soon as Lucian was seated, “and what have you found
out?"
“A great deal likely to be of service to us—and you ?”
"I!” replied Miss Vrain in a satisfied tone. "I have
discovered that the stiletto with the ribbon is gone from
the library."
- Who took it away?"
“No one knows ! I can't find out although I asked all
the servants, but it has been missing from its place for
some months.”
“Do you think Mrs. Vrain took it ? ”
“I can't say," replied Diana, “but I have made one
discovery about Mrs. Vrain which implicates her still
more in the crime. She was not in Berwin Manor on
Christmas Eve : but in town.”
Really!” said Lucian much amazed. " But Link
was told that she spent Christmas in the Manor at
Bath."
“ So she did. Link asked generally and was answered
generally. Mrs. Vrain went up to town on Christmas
Eve and returned on Christmas Day: but,” said Diana
with emphasis, "she spent the night in town, and on
that night the murder was committed.”


THE VEIL AND ITS OWNER
103
Lucian produced his pocket-book and took therefrom
the fragment of gauze which he handed to Diana.
“I found this on the fence at the back of No. 13," he
said, “it is a veil--a portion of a velvet-spotted veil.”
“A velvet-spotted veil!” cried Diana looking at it.
“ Then it belongs to Lydia Vrain. She usually wears
velvet-spotted veils. Mr. Denzil, the evidence is com-
plete: that woman is guilty.”


CHAPTER XIII
GOSSIP
GOING by circumstantial evidence Diana certainly had
good grounds to accuse Mrs. Vrain of committing the
crime ; for there were four points at least which could be
proved past all doubt as incriminating her strongly in the
matter.
In the first place, the female shadow on the blind seen
by Lucian, showed that a woman had been in the habit
of entering the house by the secret way of the cellar, and
during the absence of Vrain.
Secondly, the finding of the parti-coloured ribbon in the
Silent House, which had been knotted round the handle
of the stiletto by Diana, and the absence of the stiletto
itself from its usual place on the wall of the Berwin Manor
library, proved that the weapon had been removed there-
from to London, and, presumably, used to commit the
deed, seeing that otherwise there was no necessity for its
presence in the Geneva Square mansion.
Thirdly, Diana had discovered that Lydia had spent
the night of the murder in town; and, lastly, she
also declared that the fragment of gauze found by
Lucian on the dividing fence was the property of Mrs.
Vrain.
(104)


Gossip
105
This quartette of charges was recapitulated by Diana in
support of her accusation of her step-mother.
“I always suspected Lydia as indirectly guilty," she
declared in conclusion of her speech for the prosecution,
“ but I was not certain until now that she had actually
struck the blow herself.”
“ But did she ? ” said Denzil, by no means convinced.
“I do not know what further evidence you require to
prove it,” retorted Diana indignantly. “She was in town
on Christmas Eve; she took the stiletto from the library,
and
“You can't prove that," interrupted Lucian decidedly,
then seeing the look of anger on Diana's face he hastened
to apologise. “Excuse me, Miss Vrain," he said
nervously. "I am not the less your friend because I
combat your arguments; but in this case it is necessary
to look on both sides of the question. Is it possible to
prove that Mrs. Vrain removed this dagger ? "
“ Nobody actually saw it in her possession,” replied
Diana, who was more amenable to reason than the
majority of her sex, “but I can prove that the stiletto
with its ribbon remained in the library after the departure
of my father. If Lydia did not take it, who else had
occasion to bring it up to London ?"
“Let us say Count Ferruci," suggested Denzil.
Diana pointed to the fragment of the veil, lying on the
table. “ On the evidence of that piece of gauze," she
said, “it was Lydia who entered the house. Again, you
saw her shadow on the window blind."
“ I saw two shadows,” corrected Lucian hastily, “those
of a man and a woman."
“In plain English, Mr. Denzil, those of Mrs. Vrain
and Count Ferruci."


106
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
66
)
“ We cannot be certain of that.”
“But circumstantial evidence
“Is not always conclusive, Miss Vrain."
Upon my word, sir, you seem inclined to defend this
woman."
“ Miss Vrain !” said Lucian seriously, “if we don't
give her the benefit of every doubt the jury will, should
she be tried on this charge. I admit that the evidence
against this woman is strong, but it is not certain; and I
argue the case looking at it from her point of view—the
only view which is likely to be taken by her counsel. If
Mrs. Vrain killed her husband she must have had a strong
motive to do so."
“Well!” said Diana impatiently, “there is the assur-
ance money!”
“ I don't know if that motive is quite strong enough to
justify this woman in risking her neck," responded the
barrister. “ As Mrs. Vrain of Berwin Manor she had an
ample income, for your father seems to have left all the
rents to her, and spent but little on himself; also she had
an assured position, and, on the whole, a happy life.
Why should she risk losing these advantages to gain
more money
?”
“She wanted to marry Ferruci,” said Diana, driven to
another point of defence. “She was almost engaged to
him before she married my foolish father, she invited
him to Berwin Manor against the wish of her husband,
and showed plainly that she loved him sufficiently to
commit a crime for his sake. With my father dead and
she in possession of £20,000, she could hope to marry
this Italian.”
“ Can you prove that she was so reckless ?”
“ Yes, I can,” replied Miss Vrain defiantly; "the same


Gossip
107
person who told me that Lydia was not at Berwin Manor
on Christmas Eve can tell you that her behaviour with
Count Ercole was the talk of Bath.”
“Who is this person ?” asked Lucian, looking up.
“ A friend of mine,-Miss Tyler. I brought her up
with me, so that you should get her information at first
hand. You can see her at once," and Diana rose to ring
the bell.
“One moment," interposed Lucian before she could
touch the button. “ Tell me if Miss Tyler knows your
reason for bringing her up."
“ I have not told her directly,” said Diana with some
bluntness, “but as she is no fool I fancy she suspects.
Why do you ask?”
“ Because I have something to tell you which I do
not wish your friend to hear, unless,” added Lucian
significantly, "you desire to take her into our con-
fidence.”
“No!” said Diana promptly. “I do not think it is
wise to take her into our confidence. She is rather-
well, to put it plainly, Mr. Denzil-rather a gossip."
" H'm ! as such, do you consider her evidence
reliable?”
“We can pick the grains of wheat out of the chaff. No
doubt she exaggerates and garbles after the fashion of
a scandal-loving woman, but her evidence is valuable
especially as showing that Lydia was not at Bath on
Christmas Eve. We will tell her nothing, so she can
suspect as much as she likes; if we do speak freely she
will spread the gossip, and if we don't she will invent
worse facts, so in either case it doesn't matter What is
it you have to tell me ?”
Lucian could scarcely forbear smiling at Diana's can-


fo8
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
didly expressed estimate of her ally's character, but, fearful
of giving offence to his companion, he speedily composed
his features. With much explanation and an exhibition
of Miss Greeb's plan, he gave an account of his dis-
coveries, beginning with his visit to the cellar and ending
with the important conversation with his landlady. Diana
listened attentively, and when he concluded gave it as her
opinion that Lydia had entered the first yard by the side
passage, and had climbed over the fence into the second,
“as is clearly proved by the veil," she concluded de-
cisively.
“ But why should she take all that trouble and run the
risk of being seen when it is plain that your father
expected her?”
Expected her ?” cried Diana thunderstruck.
" Im-
possible!”
“I don't know so much about that,” replied Lucian
drily, “although I admit that on the face of it my as-
sertion appears improbable. But when I met your father
the second time, he was so anxious to prove, by letting
me examine the house, that no one had entered it during
his absence, that I am certain he was well aware the
shadows I saw were those of people he knew were in
the room. Now if the woman was Mrs. Vrain, she must
have been in the habit of visiting your father by the back
way."
" And Ferruci also ?
“I am not sure if the male shadow was Ferruci, no
more than I am certain the other was Mrs. Vrain."
“ But the veil ?”
Lucian shrugged his shoulders in despair.
- That
seems to prove it was she," he said dubiously, “but
I can't explain your father's conduct in receiving her


GOSSIP
109
a
in so secretive a way.
The whole thing is beyond
me."
6 Well! what is to be done?” said Diana after a
pause, during which they looked blankly at one another.
“I must think. My head is too confused just now
with this conflicting evidence to plan any line of action.
As a relief let us examine your friend and hear what she
has to say.”
Diana assented and touched the bell. Shortly Miss
Tyler appeared, ushered in by a nervous waiter to whom
it would seem she had addressed a sharp admonition on
his want of deference. Immediately on entering she
pounced down on Miss Vrain like a hawk on
dove, pecked her on both cheeks, addressed her as “my
dearest Di,” and finally permitted herself with down-
cast eyes and a modest demeanour to be introduced to
Lucian.
It might be inferred from the foregoing description that
Miss Tyler was a young and ardent damsel in her teens;
whereas she was considerably nearer forty than thirty
and possessed an uncomely aspect unpleasing to male
eyes. Her own were of a cold grey, her lips were thin,
her waist pinched in, and-as the natural consequence of
tight lacing—her nose was red. Her scanty hair was
drawn off her high forehead very tightly, and screwed
into a cast-iron knob at the nape of her long neck; and
she smiled occasionally in an acid manner with many
teeth. She wore a plainly-made green dress with a toby
frill; and a large silver cross dangled on her flat bosom.
Altogether, she was about as venomous a specimen of an
unappropriated blessing as can well be imagined.
Bella,” said Miss Vrain to this unattractive female,
“ for certain reasons which I may tell you hereafter, Mr.


IIO
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
19
Denzil wishes to know if Mrs. Vrain was at Berwin
Manor on Christmas Eve."
“Of course she was not, dearest Di,” said Bella droop-
ing her elderly head on one scraggy shoulder with an
acid smile. “Didn't I tell you so ? I was asked by
Lydia-alas, I wish I could say, my dearest Lydia-to
spend Christmas at Berwin Manor. She invited me for
my singing and playing, you know : and as we all have
to make ourselves agreeable, I came to see her. On the
day before Christmas she received a letter by the early
post which seemed to upset her a great deal; and told
me she would have to run up to town on business. She
did, and stayed all night, and came down next morning to
keep Christmas. I thought it very strange."
“What was her business in town, Miss Tyler ? ” asked
Lucian.
“Oh, she didn't tell me," said Bella tossing her head.
“At least not directly, but I gathered from what she said
that something was wrong with poor dear Mr. Clyne-
her father, you know, dearest Di.”
Was the letter from him?"
“Oh, I couldn't say that, Mr. Denzil, as I don't know,
and I never speak by, hearsay. So much mischief is
done in the world by people repeating idle tales of which
they are not sure.”
“ Was Count Ferruci at Berwin Manor at that time?"
Oh, dear me, no, Di. I told you that he was up in
London the whole of Christmas week. I only hope,”
added Miss Tyler with a venomous smile," that Lydia
did not go up to meet him."
“Why should she ?" demanded Lucian bluntly.
“Oh, I'm not blind!” cried Bella shrilly laughing.
“ No, indeed. The Count--a most amiable man-was


GOSSIP
III
99
very attentive to me at one time: and Lydia-a married
woman-I regret to say, did not like him being so. I
am indeed sorry to repeat scandal, Mr. Denzil, but the
way in which Mrs. Vrain behaved towards me and
carried on with the Count was not creditable. I am a
gentlewoman, Mr. Denzil, and a Churchwoman, and as
such cannot countenance such conduct as his.”
“You infer, then, that Mrs. Vrain was in love with the
Italian ?"
“I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear it,” cried Bella
again. “But he did not care for her! Oh, dear, no! It
is my belief, Mr. Denzil, that Mrs. Vrain knows more
about the death of her husband than she chooses to
admit. Oh, I've read all the papers ; I know all about the
death.”
“Miss Tyler !” said Lucian alarmed.
6 Bella !” cried Miss Vrain. "I"
“Oh, I'm not blind, dearest," interrupted Bella speaking
very fast. “I know you ask me these questions to find
out if Lydia killed her husband. Well, she did !"
“How do you know, Miss Tyler ?”
“ Because I'm sure of it, Mr. Denzil. Wasn't Mr.
Vrain stabbed with a dagger ? Very well, then. There
was a dagger hanging in the library of the Manor, and I
saw it there four days before Christmas. When I looked
for it on Christmas day it was gone."
“ Gone! Who took it?”
" Mrs. Vrain!”
“ Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am," snapped Miss Tyler. “I didn't see her
take it, but it was there before she went; and it wasn't
there on Christmas day. If Lydia did not take it, who
did ?”
1


I 12
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Count Ferruci perhaps.”
“ He wasn't there. No!” cried Bella raising her head,
“ I'm sure Mrs. Vrain stole it and killed her husband, and
I don't care who hears me say so.”
Diana and Lucian looked at one another in silence.


CHAPTER XIV
THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET
As her listeners made no comment on Miss Tyler's
accusation of Mrs. Vrain, she paused only for a moment
to recover her breath and was off again in full cry with
a budget of ancient gossip drawn forth from a very reten-
tive memory
“Of the way in which Lydia treated her poor dear
husband I know little,” cried the fair Bella. “Only this,
that she drove him out of the house by her scandalous
conduct. Yes, indeed ; although you may not believe
me, Di. You were away in Australia at the time; but I
kept a watch on Lydia in your interest, dear, and our
housemaid heard from your housemaid the most dreadful
things. Why, Mr. Vrain remonstrated with Lydia and
ordered Count Ferruci out of the house. But Lydia would
not let him go; and Mr. Vrain left the house himself.”
“ Where did he go to, Miss Tyler ?
" I don't know : nobody knows. But it is my opinion,”
said the spinster with a significant look, “ that he went
to London to see about a divorce. But he was weak in
the head, poor man, and I suppose let things go on.
When next I heard of him he was a corpse in Geneva
Square.”
(113)
8


114
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ But did my father tell his wife that he was in Geneva
Square ?"
“ Dearest Di, I can't say ; but I don't believe he had
anything to do with her after he left the house."
“ Then if she did not know his whereabouts how could
she kill him?" asked Denzil pertinently.
Brought to a point which she could not evade, Bella
declined to answer this question, but tossed her head
and bit her lip with a fine colour. All her accusations of
Mrs. Vråin had been made generally, and as Lucian
noted were unsupported by fact. From a legal point of
view this spiteful gossip of a jealous woman was worth
nothing; but in a broad sense it was certainly useful in
showing the discord which had existed between Vrain
and his wife. Lucian saw that little good was to be
gained from this prejudiced witness ; so thanking Miss
Tyler courteously for her information he arose to go.
“Wait for a moment, Mr. Denzil,” said Diana hurriedly.
“ I want to ask you something. Bella would you mind —-"
“ Leaving the room ; oh, dear no," burst out Miss Tyler,
annoyed at being excluded, “ I've said all I have to say,
and anything I can do, dearest Di, to assist you and Mr.
Denzil in hanging that woman I
-"
“ Miss Tyler !” interrupted Lucian sternly. “You
must not speak so wildly, for as yet there is nothing to
prove that Mrs. Vrain is guilty."
“She is guilty enough for me, Mr. Denzil; but like all
men I suppose you take her side, because she is supposed
to be pretty. Pretty!" reflected Bella scornfully, “I
never could see it myself; a painted up minx, dragged
up in the gutter. I wonder at your taste, Mr. Denzil,
indeed I do. Pretty! the idea! What fools men are.
I'm glad I never married one. Indeed no! He! he!


THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET
115
and with a shrill laugh to point this sour-grape senti-
ment and mark her disdain for Lucian, the fair Bella took
herself and her lean form out of the room.
Diana and the barrister were too deeply interested in
their business to take much notice of Bella's hysterical
outburst; but looked at one another gravely as she de-
parted.
Well, Mr. Denzil,” said the former repeating her
earlier question, “what is to be done now ?
Shall we
see Mrs. Vrain ? "
“ Not yet!” replied Lucian quickly. “ We must secure
proofs of Mrs. Vrain's being in that yard before we can
get any confession out of her. If you will leave it in my
hands, Miss Vrain, I shall call on Mrs. Bensusan.”
“Who is Mrs. Bensusan ?”
“She is the tenant of the house in Jersey Street. It is
possible that she or her servant may know something
about the illegal use made of the right of way.”
“Yes! I think that is the next step to take. But
what am I to do in the meantime?
Nothing! If I were you I would not even see Mrs.
Vrain !”
“I will not seek her voluntarily” replied Diana, “but
as I have been to Berwin Manor she is certain to hear
that I am in England, and may perhaps find out my
address, and call. But if she does, you may be sure that
I will be most judicious in my remarks."
“I leave all that to your discretion !” said Denzil
rising. “Good-bye, Miss Vrain-as soon as I am in
possession of any new evidence I shall call again.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Denzil, and thank you for all your
kindness."
Diana made this remark with so kindly a look, so


THE HOUSE IN JERSEY STREET
117
He therefore dismissed all ideas of asking Link to
intervene; and resolved to risk a personal interview with
the tenant of the Jersey Street house. It would be time
enough to invite Link's assistance, he thought, when
Mrs. Bensusan—as yet an unknown quantity in the case
-proved obstinate in replying to his questions.
Mrs. Bensusan proved to be quite as stout as Miss
Greeb had reported. A gigantically fat woman, she made
up in breadth what she lacked in length. Yet she seemed
to have some activity about her too; for she opened the
door personally to Lucian, who was quite amazed when
he beheld her monstrous bulk blocking up the doorway.
Her face was white and round like a pale moon; she had
staring eyes of a china-blue, resembling the vacant optics
of a wax doll; and on the whole appeared to be a timid
lymphatic woman, likely to answer any questions put to
her in a sufficiently peremptory tone. Lucian foresaw
that he was not likely to have much trouble with this
mountain of flesh.
“What might you be pleased to want, sir?" she asked
Lucian in the meekest of voices, “is it about the
lodgings ?”
“ Yes !” answered the barrister boldly, for he guessed
that Mrs. Bensusan would scuttle back into the house
like a rabbit to its burrow, did he speak too plainly at the
outset, “that is—I wish to inquire about a friend of
mine."
“Did he lodge here, sir?"
“ Yes! A Mr. Wrent!”
Deary me!” said the fat woman with mild surprise.
“Mr. Wrent left me shortly after Christmas. A kind
gentleman but timid: he __"
“Excuse me!" interrupted Lucian who wanted to get


118
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
into the house, “but don't you think you could tell me
about
my friend in a more convenient situation ? "
“Oh, yes, sir, certainly, sir," wheezed Mrs. Bensusan,
rolling back
up the narrow passage. “I beg your pardon,
sir, for my forgetfulness, but my head ain't what it ought
to be. I'm a lone widow, sir, and not over-strong."
Denzil could have laughed at this description, as the
lady's bulk gave the lie to her assertion. However, on
diplomatic grounds he suppressed his mirth, and followed
his ponderous guide into a sitting-room so small that
she almost filled it herself.
As he left the passage, he saw a brilliant red head pop
down the staircase leading to the basement; but whether
it was that of a man or a woman he could not say. Still,
on recalling Miss Greeb's description of the Bensusan
household, he concluded that the red head was the
property of Rhoda, the sharp servant, and argued from
her appearance in the background and rapid disappear-
ance that she was in the habit of listening to conversa-
tions she was not meant to hear.
Mrs. Bensusan sat down on the sofa as being most
accommodating to her bulk; and cast a watery look round
the small apartment which was furnished in that extra-
ordinary fashion which seems to be the peculiar charac-
teristic of boarding houses. The walls and carpet were
patterned with glowing bunches of red roses; the furniture
was covered with stamped red velvet; the ornaments
consisted of shells, wax fruit under glass shades, mats of
Berlin wool, vases with dangling pendants of glass; and
such like elegant survivals of the early Victorian epoch.
Hideous as the apartment was it seemed to afford Mrs.
Bensusan_also a survival-great pleasure; and she cast
a complacent look around as Lucian seated himself on an


I 20
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Mrs. Bensusan gave a kind of hoarse screech, and
stared at Lucian in a horrified manner.
“ Murder !” she repeated.
Lord! what mur that
murder. Mr. Vrain ! Mr. Vrain-that murder !” she
repeated over and over again.
“ Yes! the murder of Mr. Vrain in No. 13 Geneva
Square on Christmas Eve. Now do you understand ? '
With another gasp Mrs. Bensusan threw up her fat
hands and raised her eyes to the ceiling.
“ As I'm a Christian woman, sir," she cried, “ I am as
innocent as a babe unborn."
“Of what?" asked Lucian sharply.
“Of the murder !” wept Mrs. Bensusan, now dissolved
in tears.
66 Rhoda said
“I don't want to hear what Rhoda said,” interrupted
Lucian impatiently, “and I'm not accusing you of the
murder. But-your house is at the back of No. 13."
“ Yes," replied Mrs. Bensusan, weeping like a Niobe.
“ And a fence divides your yard from that of No. 13?"
“I won't contradict you, sir, it do!”
“ And there is a passage leading from Jersey Street
into your yard ?
“ There is, Mr. Denzil; it's useful for the trades-
people.”
"And I daresay useful to others,” said Lucian drily.
“Now, Mrs. Bensusan, do you know if any lady was in
the habit of passing through that passage at night?"
Before Mrs. Bensusan could answer the door was
dashed open, and Rhoda the red-headed darted into the
room.
“Don't answer, missus," she cried shortly; "as you
love me, mum, don't."
:)


CHAPTER XV
RHODA AND THE CLOAK
The one servant of Mrs. Bensusan was a girl of seven-
teen who had a local fame in the neighbourhood on
account of her sharp tongue and many precocious
qualities. No one knew who her parents were, or where
the fat landlady had picked her up; but she had been in
the Jersey Street house some ten years and had been
educated and--in a manner-adopted by its mistress,
although Mrs. Bensusan always gave her cronies to
understand that Rhoda was simply and solely the dom-
estic of the establishment.
Nevertheless, for one of her humble position, she had
a wonderful power over her stout employer; the power
of a strong mind over a weak one, and in spite of her
youth it was well known that Rhoda managed the dom-
estic economy of the house. Mrs. Bensusan was the
sovereign, Rhoda the Prime Minister.
This position she had earned by dint of her own sharp-
ness in dealing with the world. And the local tradesmen
were afraid of Rhoda. Mrs. Bensusan's devil” they
called her, and never dared to give short weight or charge
extra prices or pass off damaged goods as new, when
Rhoda was the purchaser. On the contrary, No. 9 Jersey
(121)


I 22
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Street was supplied with everything of the best promptly
and civilly at ordinary market rates; for neither butcher,
nor baker, nor candlestick maker, was daring enough to
risk Rhoda's tongue raging like a prairie fire over their
shortcomings. Several landladies, knowing Rhoda's
value, had tried to entice her from Mrs. Bensusan by
offers of higher wages and better quarters; but the girl
refused to leave her stout mistress, and so continued
quite a fixture of the lodgings. Even in the City Rhoda
had been spoken of by clerks who had lived in Jersey
Street, and so had more than a local reputation for
originality.
This celebrated handmaid was as lean as her mistress
was stout. Her hair was magnificent in quality and
quantity, but, alas, was of the unpopular tint called red,
not auburn, or copper hued, or the famous Titian colour,
but a blazing fiery red which made it look like a comic
wig. Her face was pale and freckled, her eyes black-
in strange contrast to her hair—and her mouth large but
garnished with an excellent set of white teeth.
Rhoda was not neat in her attire, perhaps not having
arrived at the age of coquetry—for she wore a dingy grey
dress much too short for her, a pair of carpet slippers
which had been left by a departed lodger; and usually
went about with her sleeves tucked up, and a resolute
look on her sharp face. Such was the appearance of
Mrs. Bensusan's devil, who entered to forbid her mistress
confiding in Lucian.
"Oh, Rhoda !” groaned Mrs. Bensusan. " You bad
gal : I as believe as you've 'ad your ear to the key hole.”
“I 'ave!” retorted Rhoda defiantly “its been there
for five minutes, and good it is for you, mum, as I ain't
above listening. What do you mean, sir," she cried


124
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
I do not wish her to speak,” he said indifferently, “but
in the interests of justice I am sure you will not refuse to
answer my questions."
“Lord, sir! I know nothing !" whimpered the terrified
landlady.
“Will you answer a few questions?".asked Denzil
persuasively.
Mrs. Bensusan glanced in a scared manner at Rhoda
who, meanwhile, had been standing in a sullen and hesi-
tating attitude. When she thought herself unobserved
she stole swift glances at the visitor, trying evidently to
read his character by observation of his face and manner.
It would seem that her scrutiny was favourable, for
before Mrs. Bensusan could answer Lucian's question,
she asked him one herself.
“What d'ye want to know, sir ? '
" I want to know all about Mr. Wrent?”
“Why?"
“Because I fancy he has something to do with this
crime."
“Lord !” groaned Mrs. Bensusan, "’ave I waited on
a murderer?”
“I don't say he is a murderer, Mrs. Bensusan, but he
knows something likely to put us on the track of the
criminal.”
6. What makes
ye
take
up
the case ?" demanded Rhoda
sharply.
6. Because I know that Mr. Wrent came to board in
this house shortly after Mr. Vrain occupied No. 13,”
replied Denzil.
" Who says he did ? "
“Miss Greeb, my landlady; and she also told me that he
left here two days after the murder,"


RHODA AND THE CLOAK
125
“That's as true as true,” cried Mrs. Bensusan, “ain't
it, Rhoda ? We lost him 'cause he said he couldn't abide
living near a 'ouse where a crime had been committed.”
"Well, then," continued Lucian, seeing that Rhoda,
without speaking, continued to watch him, “ the coinci-
dence of Mr. Wrent's stay with that of Mr. Vrain's strikes
me as peculiar !"
“You are a sharp one, you are !” said Rhoda with an
approving nod. “Look here, Mr. Denzil, would you
break a promise ?”
“ That depends upon what the promise was."
“ It was one I made to hold my tongue.”
“ About what?"
“Several things," said the girl shortly.
“ Have they to do with this crime?” asked Lucian
eagerly.
66 I don't know. I can't say," said Rhoda, then
suddenly her face grew black. “I tell you what, sir, I
hate Mr. Wrent!” she declared.
Oh, Rhoda” cried Mrs. Bensusan. “ After the lovely
cloak he gave you.”
The red-haired girl looked contemptuously at her mis-
tress; then, without a word, darted out of the room.
Before Lucian could conjecture the reason of her strange
conduct, or Mrs. Bensusan could get her breath again-
a very difficult operation for her-Rhoda was back with
a blue cloth cloak, lined with rabbit skins, hanging over
her arm.
This she threw down at the feet of Lucian,
and stamped on it savagely with the carpet slippers.
“ There's his present,” she cried angrily, “but I wish
I could dance on him the same way; I wish–I wish I
could hang him."
“Can you ?” demanded Lucian swiftly, taking her


126
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
in the moment of wrath when she seemed disposed to
speak.
“No!” said Rhoda shortly, “ I can't.”
Do
you
think he killed Mr. Vrain ?'
“No, I don't !”
“Do you know who did ?
" Blest if I do!”
“Does Mr. Wrent?" asked Denzil meaningly.
The girl wet her finger and went through a childish
game. “ That's wet !” she said ; then wiping the finger
on her dingy skirts, “ that's dry. Cut my throat if I tell
a lie. Ask me something easier, Mr. Denzil !”
“ I don't understand you,” said Lucian quite puzzled.
“Rhoda ! Rhoda! ave you gone crazy ?” wailed Mrs.
Bensusan.
“ Look here !” said the girl, taking no notice of her
mistress, “ do you want to know about Mr. Wrent ?"
Yes, I do."
“ And about that side passage as you talked of to the
missis ?”
" Yes!”
“ Then I'll answer yer questions, sir. You'll know all
I know.”
“Very good,” said Lucian with an approving smile,
now you are talking like a sensible girl.”
“Rhoda! you ain't going to talk bad of Mr. Wrent?'
“ It ain't bad and it ain't good,” replied Rhoda, “it's
betwixt and between !”
· Well, I must 'ear all. I don't want the character
of the 'ouse took away,” said Mrs. Bensusan with an
attempt at firmness.
“That's all right,” rejoined Rhoda reassuringly, “you
can jine in yerself when y' like Fire away, Mr. Denzil.”


RHODA AND THE CLOAK
127
“Who is Mr. Wrent?" asked Lucian going straight
to the point.
“I don't know,” replied Rhoda; and henceforth the
examination proceeded as though the girl were in the
witness-box, and Lucian counsel for the prosecution.
Q. When did he come to Jersey Street ?
A. At the end of July last year.
Q. When did he go away?
A. The morning after Boxing Day.
Q. Can you describe his appearance ?
A. He was of the middle height with a fresh com-
plexion, white hair and a white beard growing all over
his face. He was untidy about his clothes, and kept a
good deal to his own room among a lot of books. I
don't think he was quite right in his head.
Q. Did he pay his rent regularly ?
A. Yes; except when he was away.
He would go
away for a week at a time.
Q. Was he in this house on Christmas Eve ?
A. Yes, sir. He came back two days before Christmas.
Q. Where had he been ?
A. I don't know; he did not say.
Q. Did he have any visitors ?
A. He did. A tall dark man and a lady.
Q. What was the lady like?
A. A little woman
an; I never saw her face as she always
kept her veil down.
Q. What kind of a veil did she wear ?
A. A black gauze veil with velvet spots.
Q. Did she come often to see Mr. Wrent?
A. Yes! Four or five times.
Q. When did she call last?
A. On Christmas Eve!


128
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Q. At what hour?
A. She came at seven and went away at eight. I know
that because she had supper with Mr. Wrent.
Q. Did she leave the house?
A. Yes. I let her out myself.
Q. Did you ever hear any conversation between them?
A. No. Mr. Wrent took care of that. I never got any
chance of listening at keyholes with him. He was a
sharp one for all his craziness.
Q. What was the male visitor like?
A. He was tall and dark with a black moustache.
Q. Do you think he was a foreigner ?
A. I don't know. I never heard him speak. Mr.
Wrent let him in and out himself.
Q. When did he visit Mr. Wrent last?
A. On Christmas Eve; he came with the lady.
2. Did he stay to supper also ?
A. No. He went away at half-past seven. Mr.
Wrent let him out as usual.
Q. Did he go away altogether?
A. I-1-I am not sure! (here the witness hesitated).
Q. Why did Mr. Wrent give you the cloak ?
A. To make me hold my tongue about the dark man.
Q. Why?
A. Because I saw him in the back yard.
Q. On what night?
A. On the night of Christmas Eve about half-past
eight!


CHAPTER XVI
MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
“ You saw the dark man in the back yard on Christmas
Eve? "repeated Lucian, much surprised by this discovery.
“Yes, I did," replied Rhoda decisively, " at half-past
eight o'clock. I went out into the yard to put some
empty bottles into the shed; and I saw the man stand-
ing near the fence looking at the back of No. 13. "When
he heard me coming out, he rushed past me and out
by the side passage. The moon was shining and I saw
him as plain as plain.”
“ Did he seem afraid ?"
Yes, he did; and didn't want to be seen neither. I
told Mr. Wrent and he promised me a cloak if I held my
tongue. He said the dark man was waiting in the yard
until the lady had gone, when he was coming in again.”
“ But the lady you say went at eight and you saw the
man half an hour later."
" That's it, sir! He told a lie, for he never came in
again to see Mr. Wrent.”
“ But already the dark man had seen the lady ? "
" Yes! he came in with her at seven and went away
at half-past."
Lucian mechanically stooped down and picked up the
(129)
9


130
THE SILENT HOUSE ÎN PIMLICO
fur cloak. He was puzzled by the information given by
Rhoda, and did not exactly see what use to make of it.
Going by the complexion of the man who had lurked in
the back yard, it would appear that he was Count Ferruci ;
while the small stature of the woman, and the fact that
she wore a velvet spotted veil indicated that she was
Lydia Vrain ; also the pair had been in the vicinity of the
haunted house on the night of the murder; and, although
it was true, both were out of the place by half-past eight;
yet they might not have gone far, but had probably
returned later—when Rhoda and Mrs. Bensusan were
asleep—to murder Vrain between the hours of eleven
and twelve on the same night.
This was all plain enough, but Lucian was puzzled
by the account of Mr. Wrent. Who, he asked himself
repeatedly, who was this grey-haired, white-bearded man
who had so often received Lydia, who had on Christ-
mas Eve silenced Rhoda regarding Ferruci's presence
in the yard by means of the cloak, and who—it would
seem-possessed the key to the whole mystery ?
Rhoda could tell no more but that he had stayed six
months with Mrs. Bensusan and had departed two days
after the murder ; whereby it would seem that his task
having been completed, he had no reason to remain
longer in so dangerous a neighbourhood. Yet four months
had elapsed since his departure and Denzil, after some
reflection, asked Mrs. Bensusan a question or so regard-
ing this interval.
“ Has Mr. Wrent returned here since his departure ? '
he demanded.
“ Lawks, no, sir!" wheezed Mrs. Bensusan shaking her
head. “ I've never set eyes on him since he went.
'Ave
you, Rhoda ? ” whereat the girl shook her head also,


MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
131
66
and watched Lucian with an intensity of gaze which
somewhat discomposed him.
“ Did he owe you any money when he went, Mrs.
Bensusan ?"
“No, sir; he paid up like a gentleman. I always
thought well of Mr. Wrent.”
“ Rhoda doesn't seem to share your sentiments," said
Denzil dryly.
No, I don't,” cried the servant frowning. “I hated
Mr. Wrent!”
Why did
you
hate him?"
“Never you mind, sir," retorted Rhoda grimly. "I
hated him.”
“ Yet he bought you this cloak ?”
“No, he didn't,” contradicted the girl," he got it from
the lady."
“What!” cried Lucian sharply, "are you sure of that?”
“ I can't exactly swear to it,” replied Rhoda hesitating,
“but it was this way. The lady wore a cloak like that,
and I admired it awful. She had it on when she came
Christmas Eve, and she didn't wear it when I let her out,
and the next day Mr. Wrent gave it to me. So I suppose
it is the same cloak.”
“And did the lady go out into the cold winter weather
without the cloak ? "
“ Yes; but she had a long cloth jacket on, sir, so I
don't s'pose she missed it.”
“ Was the lady agitated when she went out?”
I don't know. She held her tongue and kept her veil
down.”
“Can you tell me anything more?” asked Lucian,
anxious to make the examination as exhaustive as pos-
sible.
9)
(6


132
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“No, Mr. Denzil," answered Rhoda after some thought,
"I can't; except that Mr. Wrent long before Christmas
promised me a present, and gave me the cloak then.”
“ Will you let me take this cloak away with me?”
“If you like," replied Rhoda carelessly. “I don't
want it.”
“Oh, Rhoda ! ” wailed Mrs. Bensusan, "your lovely,
lovely rabbit skin.”
“I'll bring it back again," said Lucian hastily. “I
only want to use it as evidence.”
“Ye want to know who the lady is?” said Rhoda
sharply.
“ Yes, I do; can you tell me?”
“No, but you'll find out from that cloak. I guess why
you're taking it.”
“ You are very sharp, Rhoda,” said Lucian, rising with
a good-humoured smile, “and well deserve your local
reputation. If I find Mr. Wrent, I may require you to
identify him; and Mrs. Bensusan also.”
" I'll be able to do that, but missus hasn't her eyes
much."
“ Hasn't her eyes ? ” repeated Denzil, with a glance at
Mrs. Bensusan's staring orbs.
“Lawks, sir, I'm short sighted though I never lets on.
Rhoda, 'ow can you ’ave let on to the gentleman as I'm
deficient ? As to knowing Mr. Wrent, I'd do so well
enough,” said Mrs. Bensusan, tossing her head, “with
his long white beard and white ’ead, let alone his black
velvet skull cap."
he wore a skull cap ?”
“Only indoors,” said Rhoda sharply; "but here I'm
'olding the door wide, sir, so if you've done, we're done."
“ I'm done, as you call it, for the present," replied
Oh,


MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
133
Denzil, putting on his hat, “but I may come again. In
the meantime hold your tongues. Silence on this occa-
sion will be gold: speech won't even be silver.”
Mrs. Bensusan laughed at this speech in a fat and
comfortable sort of way, while Rhoda grinned and escorted
Lucian to the front door. She looked so uncanny with
her red hair and black eyes that the barrister could not
forbear a question.
“Are you English, my girl ?”
“No, I ain't,” retorted Rhoda emphatically; “ I'm of
the gentle Romany."
“A gipsy !"
“So you Gorgios call us!" replied the girl, and shut
the door with what seemed to be unnecessary violence.
Lucian went off with the cloak over his arm, somewhat
discomposed by this last piece of information.
“A gipsy!” he repeated, “humph! Can good come
out of Nazareth ? I don't trust that girl much! if I knew
why she hates Wrent I'd be much more satisfied with her
information. And who the deuce is Wrent ?"
Lucian had occasion to ask himself this question many
times before he found its answer, and that was not until
afterwards. At the present moment he dismissed it from
his mind as unprofitable. He was too busy reflecting
on the evidence obtained in Jersey Street to waste time
in conjecturing further events. On returning to his
lodging he sat down to consider what was best to be
done.
After much reflection and internal argument, he de-
cided to call upon Mrs. Vrain, and by producing the
cloak, force her into confessing her share of the crime.
Whether she had been the principal in the deed or an
accessory before the fact, Lucian could not determine;


134
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
but he was confident that in one way or another she was
cognizant of the truth ; although this she would probably
conceal, as its revelation would likely be detrimental to
her own safety.
At first Denzil intended to see Diana before visiting
Mrs. Vrain, in order to relate all he had learned and
find out from her if the cloak really belonged to the
widow. But on second thoughts he decided not to do
so.
“I can tell her nothing absolutely certain about the
matter,” he said to himself, “as I cannot be sure of any.
thing until I force Mrs. Vrain to confess. Diana," so he
called her in his discourse to himself, “ Diana will pro-
bably know nothing about the ownership of the cloak, as
it seems new and was probably purchased by Lydia during
the absence of Diana in Australia. No! I have the ad-
dress of Mrs. Vrain which Diana gave me. It will be
best to call on her, and by displaying the cloak make
her acknowledge her guilt.
“With such evidence she cannot deny that she visited
Wrent; and was in the vicinity of the house wherein her
husband was murdered on the very night the crime was
committed. Also she must state Ferruci's reason for
hiding in the back yard; and tell me plainly who
Wrent is, and why he helped the pair of them in their
devilish plans. I am doubtful if she will speak; but
altogether the evidence I have collected inculpates her so
strongly that it will be quite sufficient grounds upon
which to obtain a warrant for her arrest. And sooner
than risk that, I expect she will tell as much as she can
to exculpate herself—that is, if she is really innocent. If
she is guilty,” Lucian shrugged his shoulders, “then I
cannot guess what course she will take,”


MRS. VRAIN AT BAY
135
Mrs. Vrain, with her father to protect her, had established
herself in a small but luxurious house in Mayfair ; and was
preparing to enjoy herself during the coming season.
Although her husband had met with a terrible death
scarcely six months before, she had already cast off her
heavy mourning, and wore only such millinery indications
of sorrow as suited with her widowed existence.
Ferruci . was
a constant visitor at the house; but
although Lydia was now free and wealthy she by no
means seemed ready to marry the Italian. Perhaps she
thought with her looks and riches she might gain an
English title as more valuable than a Continental one!
and in this view she was supported by her father. Clyne
had no other desire than to see his beloved Lydia happy,
and would willingly have sacrificed everything in his
power to gain such an end; but as he did not like Ferruci
himself, and saw that Lydia's affections towards him had
cooled greatly, he did not encourage the idea of a match
between them.
However, these matters were yet in abeyance, as Lydia
was too diplomatic to break off with so subtle a man as
the count, who might prove a dangerous enemy were his
love turned to hate; and Mr. Clyne was quite willing to
remain on friendly terms with the man so long as Lydia
chose that such friendship should exist. In short Lydia
ruled her simple father with a rod of iron, and coaxed
Ferruci-a more difficult man to deal with-into good
humour; so she managed both of them skilfully in every
way and contrived to keep things smooth pending her
plunge into London society. For all her childish looks
Lydia was uncommonly clever.
When Lucian's card was brought in, Mrs. Vrain
proved to be at home; and as his good looks had


136
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
made a deep impression on her, she received him
at once. He was shown into a luxuriously furnished
drawing-room without delay, and welcomed by pretty
Mrs. Vrain herself who came forward with a bright smile
and outstretched hands looking more charming than
ever.
I guess
“Well, I do call this real sweet of you,” said she gaily;
it is about time
you showed up. But you don't
look well, that's a fact. What's wrong?”
“ I'm worried a little," replied Lucian confounded by
her coolness.
“ That's no use, Mr. Denzil; you should never be
worried. I guess I don't let anything put me out.”
“Not even your husband's death ? '
“ That's rude!” said Lydia sharply, the colour leaving
her cheek, “what do you mean? Have you come to be
nasty ?"
“I came to return you this,” said Denzil, throwing the
cloak which he had carried on his arm before the widow.
" This ? " echoed Mrs. Vrain looking at it. "Well,
what's this old thing got to do with me?”
“It's yours; you left it in Jersey Street!”
“Did I? and where's Jersey Street ? ”
“You know well enough,” said Lucian sternly; “it is
near the place where your husband was murdered."
Mrs. Vrain turned white. “ Do you dare to say—”
she began when Denzil cut her short with a hint at her
former discomposure.
“ The stiletto, Mrs. Vrain; don't forget the stiletto."
“Oh, God!" cried Lydia trembling violently, “what do
you know of the stiletto ?"


CHAPTER XVII
A DENIAL
“WHAT do you know of the stiletto ? repeated Mrs.
Vrain anxiously.
She had risen to her feet, and, with, an effort to be
calm, was holding on to the near chair. Her bright
colour had faded to a dull white hue; and her eyes had a
look of horror in their depths which transformed her from
her childish beauty into a much older and more haggard
woman than she really was. It seemed as though Lucian
by some necromantic spell had robbed her of youth,
vitality and careless happiness. To him this extra-
ordinary agitation was a proof of her guilt: and hardening
his heart so as not to spare her one iota of her penalty
-a mercy she did not deserve—he addressed her
sternly.
“I know that a stiletto purchased in Florence by your
late husband hung on the library wall of Berwin Manor.
I know that it is gone!”
“Yes ! yes !” said Lydia moistening her white dry lips,
“it is gone; but I do not know who took it !”
“ The person who killed your husband.”
"I feared as much !" she muttered sitting down again.
you
know the name of the person ?”
6. Do
(137)


A DENIAL
139
I
recovered her tongue and colour, and the equability of her
temper. It was, therefore, with some raillery that she
continued her speech.
“I see how it is,” she said contemptuously. “Diana
has called you into her councils in order to fix this
absurd charge on to me. Afraid to come herself, she
sends you as the braver person of the partnership.
congratulate you on your errand, Mr. Denzil.”
“ You can laugh as much as you please, Mrs. Vrain ;
but the matter is more serious than you suppose.”
“Oh, I am sure that my loving step-daughter will
make it as serious as possible. She always hated me."
“Pardon me, Mrs. Vrain!” said Lucian, colouring
with
annoyance,
6 but I did not come here to hear you
speak ill of Miss Vrain."
" I know that! She sent you here to speak ill of me
and do ill to me. Well, so you and she accuse me of
killing Mark. I shall be glad to hear the evidence you
can bring forward. If you can make your charge good
I should smile. Oh, I guess so !”
Denzil noticed that when Mrs. Vrain became excited
she usually spoke plain English without the U.S.A.
accent, but on growing calmer, and as it were recollect-
ing herself, she adopted the Yankee twang and their
curious style of expression and ejaculation. This led him
to suspect that the fair Lydia was not a born daughter
of the Great Republic, perhaps not even a naturalised
citizeness, but had assumed such nationality as one at-
tractive to society in Europe and Great Britain.
He wondered what her past really was, and if she and
her father were the doubtful adventurers Diana believed
them to be. If so, it might happen that Lydia would
extricate herself out of her present unpleasant position


140
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
by the use of past experience. To give her no chance of
such dodging Lucian rapidly detailed the evidence against
her so that she would be hard put to baffle it. But in
this estimate he quite underrated Lydia's nerve and
capability of fence, let alone the dexterity with which she
produced a satisfactory reply to each of his questions.
“We will begin at the beginning, Mrs. Vrain,” he said
soberly; “say from the time you drove your unfortunate
husband out of his own house."
“Now, I guess that wasn't my fault,” explained Lydia.
“ I wasn't in love with old man Mark, but I liked him
well enough, for he was a real gentleman; and when that
make-mischief Diana, who cocked her nose at me,
set out for Australia we got on surprising well. Count
Ferruci came over to stay as much at Mark's invitation
as mine, and I didn't pay too much attention to him
anyhow."
“Miss Tyler says you did !'
“ Sakes !” cried Mrs. Vrain raising her eyebrows,
“have you been talking to that old stump? Well, just
you look here, Mr. Denzil; it was Bella Tyler who made
all the mischief. She thought Ercole was sweet on
her, and when she found out he wasn't, she got real mad,
and went to tell Mark that I was making things hum the
wrong way with the count. Of course Mark had a row
with him, and of course I got riz—not having done any-
thing to lie low for. We had a row royal, I guess, and
the end of it was that Mark cleared out. I thought he
would turn up again, or apply for a divorce, though he
hadn't
any reason to. But he did neither, and remained
away for a whole year. While he was away I got quit
of Ercole pretty smart, I can tell you, as I wanted to
shut up that old maid's mouth. I never knew where


A DENIAL
141
Mark was, or guessed what became of him until I saw
that advertisement, and putting two and two together to
make four I called to see Mr. Link, where I found you
running the circus."
"Why did you faint on the mention of the stiletto ?
“I told you the reason, and Link also.”
“ Yes! but your reason was too weak to
“Oh, well you're right enough there,” interrupted
Lydia smiling. “All that talk of nerves and grief wasn't
true. I didn't give my real reason, but I will now.
When I heard that the old man had been stabbed by a
stiletto I remembered that the one on the library wall had
vanished some time before the Christmas Eve on which
Mark was killed. So you may guess I was afraid."
“For yourself?'
“I guess not ! it wasn't any of my funeral. I didn't
take the stiletto, nor did I know who had ; but I was
afraid you might think Ferruci took it. The stiletto was
Italian and the count is Italian, so it struck me you
might put two and two together and suspect Ercole. I
never thought you'd fix on me,” concluded Lydia with a
scornful toss of her head.
“ As a matter of fact I fixed on you both,” said Lucian
composedly.
“ And for what reason? Why should I and the count
murder poor Mark, if you please? He was a fool and a
bore, but I wished him no harm. I was as sorry as any
one when I heard of his death, and I offered a good re-
ward for the catching of the mean skunk that killed him.
If I had done so myself I wouldn't have been such a
fool as to sharpen the scent of the hounds on my own
trail.”
“You were in town on Christmas Eve ? ” said Denzil,


A DENIAL
143
Drapers, Bayswater,” she read out, throwing down the
cloak contemptuously. “I don't go to a London suburb
for my frocks; I get them in Paris."
“ Then you are sure this cloak isn't yours?” asked
Lucian much perplexed.
“No! I tell you it isn't. Go and ask Baxter & Co. if
I bought it. I'll go with you if you like, or better still,"
cried Mrs. Vrain jumping up briskly," I can take you to
see some friends with whom I stayed on Christmas Eve.
The whole lot will tell you that I was with them at
Camden Hill all the night.”
“What! can you prove an alibi ? "
“I don't know what you call it,” retorted Lydia coolly,
“but I can prove pretty slick that I wasn't in Pimlico."
“But-Mrs. Vrain—your friend—Ferruci was there."
“Was he? Well, I don't know. I never saw him that
time he was in town. But if
you
think he killed Mark
you are wrong. I do not believe Ercole would kill a fly,
for all he's an Italian.”
“Do you think he took that stiletto ?”
“No, I don't!"
" Then who did ?”
“I don't know. I don't even know when it was taken.
I missed it after Christmas because that old school ma'am
told me it was gone.”
« Old school ma'am!”
"Well, Bella Tyler, if you like that better," retorted
Mrs. Vrain. “Come now, Mr. Denzil, I'm not going to
let you away without proving my—what do you call it-
alibi. Come with me right along to Camden Hill.”
" I'll come just to satisfy myself,” said Lucian picking
up the cloak, “but I am beginning to feel that it is un-
necessary.”


144
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ You think I am innocent ? Well,” drawled Lydia as
Lucian nodded, “I think that's real sweet of you. I
mayn't be a saint, but I'm not quite the sinner that
Diana of yours makes me out.”
“Diana of mine, Mrs. Vrain ?" said Lucian colouring.
The little woman laughed at his blush.
“Oh, I'm not a fool, young man.
I see how the wind
blows," and with a nod she vanished.


CHAPTER XVIII
WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK ?
Mrs. VRAIN sacrificed the vanity of a lengthy toilette to
a natural anxiety to set herself right with Lucian, and
appeared shortly in a ravishing costume fresh from Paris.
Perhaps by arraying herself so smartly, she wished to
assure Mr. Denzil more particularly that she was a lady
of too much taste to buy rabbit-skin cloaks in Bays-
water : or perhaps—which was more probable—she was
not averse to ensnaring so handsome a young man into
an innocent flirtation.
The suspicion she entertained of Lucian's love for Diana
only made Lydia the more eager to fascinate him on her
own account. A conceit of herself, a hatred of her step-
daughter, and a desire to wring admiration out of a man
who did not wish to bestow it: these were the reasons
which led Mrs. Vrain to be particularly agreeable to the
barrister. When the pair were ensconced in a swift
hansom, and rolling rapidly towards Camden Hill, she
began at once to prosecute her amiable designs.
“I guess you'll not mind being my best boy for the
day,” she said with a coquettish glance.
escort me first of all to the Pegalls : and afterwards we
can drive to Baxter & Co. in Bayswater, so that you can
assure yourself I didn't buy that cloak,”
(145)
IO
6. You can


146
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“I am much obliged for the trouble you are taking,
Mrs. Vrain,” replied the young man, avoiding with some
reserve the insinuating glances of his pretty companion.
“We shall do as you suggest. Who are the Pegalls,
may I ask?"
My friends with whom I stopped on Christmas Eve,”
rejoined Mrs. Vrain, “a real good old dull English family
as heavy as their own plum-puddings. Mrs. Pegall's a
widow like myself, and I dare say she buys her frocks in
the Bayswater stores. She has two daughters who look
like barmaids and ought to be, only they ain't smart
enough. We had a real Sunday at home on Christmas
Eve, Mr. Denzil. Whist and weak tea at eight: negus
and prayers and bed at ten. Poppa wanted to teach them
poker and they kicked like mad at the very idea : but that
was when he visited them before, I guess.”
“Not the kind of family likely to suit you, I should
think,” said Lucian, regarding the little free lance with a
puzzled air.
“I guess not : lead's a feather to them for weight.
But it's a good thing to have respectable friends, especially
in this slow coach of an old country where you
body up by the company they keep."
“ Ah !” said Lucian pointedly and—it must be con-
fessed—rather rudely, so you have found the neces-
sity of having respectable friends however dull.”
“ That's a fact,” acknowledged Mrs. Vrain candidly.
" I've had a queer sort of life with poppa ! ups and
downs and flyings over the moon, I guess.”
“ You are not American?” said Denzil suddenly.
“ Sakes ! how do you figure that out ?”
“Because you are too pronouncedly Amurrican to be
American."
size every-


WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK ?
147
“That's an epigram with some truth in it,” replied
Lydia coolly. « Oh, I'm as much a U.S.A. article as any-
thing else. We hung out our shingle in Wyoming,
Wis., for a considerable time; and a girl who tickets her-
self Yankee this side flies high. But I guess I'm not
going to give you my history,” concluded Mrs. Vrain
dryly. “ I'm not a Popey nor you a confessor.”
“ H'm ! you've been in the South Seas, I see.”
“ There's no telling. How do you know ?”
“ The natives there use the word Popey to designate
a Roman Catholic."
“ You are as smart as they make 'em, Mr. Denzil ;
there's no flies about you; but I'm not going to give
myself away. Ask poppa if you want information. He's
that simple he'll tell you all.”
Well, Mrs. Vrain, keep your own secret ; it is not
the one I wish to discover. By the way, you say your
father was at Camden Hill on Christmas Eve ?
“ I didn't say so, but he was,” answered Lydia quietly.
“ he was not very well-pop can't stand these English
winters—and wrote me to come up.
But he was so sick
that he left the Pegall's about six o'clock."
6. That was the letter which upset you.”
" It was ; I see old Bella Tyler kept her eyes peeled.
I got the letter and came up at once. I've only got one
parent left, and he's too good to be shoved away
in
underground while fools live. But here we are at the
Pegalls. I hope you'll like the kind of circus they run.
Camp meetings are nothing to it.”
The dwelling of the respectable family alluded to was
a tolerably sized house of red brick placed in a pain-
fully neat garden, and shut in from the high road by
a tall and jealous fence of green painted wood. The
a box


148
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
stout widow and two stout spinster daughters who made
up the inmates quite deserved Mrs. Vrain's epithet of
“heavy". They were aggressively healthy, with red
cheeks, black hair, and staring black eyes devoid of
expression ; a trio of Dutch dolls would have looked more
intellectual. They were plainly and comfortably dressed;
the drawing-room was plainly and comfortably furnished ;
and both house and inmates looked thoroughly respect-
able and eminently dull. What such a hawk as Mrs.
Vrain was doing in this Philistine dove-cot Lucian could
not conjecture ; but he admired her tact in making friends
with a family whose heavy gentility assisted to ballast
her somewhat light reputation ; while the three of their
brains in unison could not comprehend her tricks, or the
reasons for which they were played.
" At all events these three women are too honest to
speak anything but the truth,” thought Lucian while
undergoing the ordeal of being presented. “So I'll learn
for certain if Mrs. Vrain was really here on Christmas Eve."
The Misses Pegall and their lace-capped mamma
welcomed Lucian with heavy good nature and much
simpering, for they also had an eye to a comely young
man; but the cunning Lydia they kissed and embraced
and called “ dear” with much zeal. Mrs. Vrain, on her
part, darted from one to the other like a bird, pecking the
red apples of their cheeks, and cast an arch glance at
Lucian to see if he admired her talent for maneuvring.
Then cake and wine, port and sherry, were produced
in the style of early Victorian hospitality, from which
epoch Mrs. Pegall dated, and all went merry as a marriage
bell; while Lydia laid her plans to have herself exculpated
in Lucian's eyes without being inculpated in those of the
family.


WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK ?
149
“We have just come up from our place in Somerset,”
explained Mrs. Pegall in a comfortable voice.
- The
girls wanted to see the sights, so I just said we'll go,
dears, and perhaps we'll get a glimpse of the dear Queen’.
I'm sure she has no more loyal subjects than we three.”
“ Are you going out much this year, dear Mrs. Vrain ?”
asked Beatrice Pegall, the elder and plainer of the sisters.
“No, dear," replied Lydia with a sigh, putting a
dainty handkerchief to her eyes; “you know what I
have lost.”
The two groaned, and Miss Cecilia Pegall, who was
by way of being very religious in a low church way, re-
marked that “all flesh was grass,” to which observation
her excellent mamma rejoined—“Very true, dear, very
true," and then the trio sighed again and shook their
black heads like so many mandarins.
“I should never support my grief,” continued Lydia
still tearful, “ if it was not that I have at least three dear
friends. Ah, I shall never forget that happy Christmas
Eve."
“ Last Christmas Eve, dear Mrs. Vrain,” said Cecilia.
“When you were all so kind and good," sobbed Lydia
with a glance at Lucian, to see that he noticed the con-
firmation. “We played whist, didn't we?”
“Four rubbers,” groaned Mrs. Pegall, “and retired to
bed at ten o'clock after prayers and a short hymn. Quite
a carol that hymn was ! eh, dears ?”
“And your poor pa was so bad with his cough,” said
Beatrice, “I hope it is better. He went away before
dinner, too. Do say your pa is better!”
“Yes, dear, much better," said Lydia, and considering
it was four months since Christmas Eve Lucian thought
that it was time Mr. Clyne recovered.


150
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“He enjoyed his tea though,” said Cecilia. “Mr.
Clyne always says there is no tea like ours.”
“And no evenings,” cried Lydia, who was very glad
there was not; “poppa and me are coming soon to have
a long evening: to play whist again.”
“ But, dear Mrs. Vrain, you are not going ?”
“I must, dears," with a kiss all round. “I have such
a lot to do, and Mr. Denzil is coming with me, as poppa
wants to consult him about some law business. He's a
barrister, you know.”
“I hope Mr. Denzil will come and see us again,” said
Mrs. Pegall, shaking hands with Lucian: a fat puffy
hand she had, and damp.
“Oh, delighted ! delighted !” said Denzil hurriedly.
“Cards and tea and sensible conversation,” said Beat-
rice seriously, “no more.”
“You forget prayers at ten, dear,” rejoined Cecilia in
low tones.
“We are a plain family, Mr. Denzil. You must take
us as we are."
“ Thank you, Mrs. Pegall, I will."
“Good-bye, dears," cried Lydia again, and with a final
peck all round, she skipped out and into the hansom,
followed by her escort.
“ Damn!” said Mrs. Vrain, when the cab drove away
in the direction of Bayswater. Oh, don't look so
shocked, Mr. Denzil. I assure you I am not in the
habit of swearing, but the extreme respectability of the
Pegalls always makes me wish to relieve my feelings
by going to the other extreme. What do you think of
them?"
“ They seem very good people and genuine.”
"And very genteel and dull," retorted Lydia. “Like
6


WHO BOUGHT THE CLOAK?
151
Washington they can't tell a lie for a red cent; so you can
believe I was there with poppa on Christmas Eve, only
he went away and I stayed all night.”
“ Yes, I believe it, Mrs. Vrain."
“ Then I couldn't have been in Jersey Street or Geneva
Square sticking Mark with the stiletto ? "
“No! I believe you to be innocent," said Lucian
gravely. “In fact, I really don't think it is necessary to
find out about this cloak at Baxter & Co. I am assured
you did not buy it.”
I
guess I didn't, Mr. Denzil; but you want to know
who did, and so do I. Well ! you need not open your
eyes; I'd like to know who killed Mark also; and you
say that cloak will show it."
“I didn't say that; but the cloak may identify the
woman I wrongfully took for you. She may have to do
with the matter."
Lydia shook her pretty head. “ Not she. Mark was
as respectable as the Pegall gang; there's no woman
mixed up in this matter."
“ But I saw the shadow of a woman on the blind of
No. 13."
6. You don't say!
In Mark's sitting-room? Well, I
should smile to know he was human after all; he was
always so precious stiff.”
Something in Mrs. Vrain's light talk of her dead
husband jarred on the feelings of Lucian, and in some
displeasure he held his peace. In no wise abashed
Lydia feigned to take no notice of this tacit reproof, but
chatted on about all and everything in the most frivolous
manner. Not until they had entered the shop of Baxter
& Co. did she resume attention to business.
“ Here!” she said to the smiling shop-walker.
"I


152
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
want to know by whom this cloak was sold and to what
person."
The man examined the cloak and noted a private mark
on it, which evidently afforded him some information not
obtainable by the general public; for he guided Lucian
and his companion to a counter behind which stood a
brisk woman with sharp eyes. In her turn she also
examined the cloak, and departed to refresh her memory
by looking at some account book. When she returned
it was to intimate that the cloak had been bought by
a man.
“A man!”repeated Lucian much astonished.
- What
was he like?”
“ A dark man!” replied the brisk shop woman, “ dark
hair, dark eyes and a dark moustache. I remember him
well because he was a foreigner.”
" A foreigner?" repeated Lydia in her turn. " A
Frenchman ?"
"No madam-an Italian. He told me as much.”
“ Sakes alive,” cried Mrs. Vrain. “ You are right,
Mr. Denzil. It's Ferruci sure enough."


CHAPTER XIX
THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
“ It is quite impossible,” cried Mrs. Vrain distractedly.
" I can't believe it nohow.”
The little woman was back again in her own drawing-
room talking to Lucian about the discovery which had
lately been made regarding Ferruci's purchase of the
cloak. Mrs. Vrain having proved her own innocence by
the evidence of the Pegall family, was now trying to
persuade both herself and Denzil that the Count could
not be possibly implicated in the matter. He had no
motive to kill Vrain, she said, a statement with which
Lucian at once disagreed.
“I beg your pardon, Mrs. Vrain, he had two motives,”
said the barrister quickly. “In the first place, he was in
love and wished to marry you; in the second, he was
poor and wanted money. By the death of your husband
he hoped to gain both.”
“ He has gained neither as yet," replied Lydia sharply.
" I like Ercole well enough, and at one time I was
almost engaged to him. But he has a nasty temper of
his own, Mr. Denzil, so I shunted him pretty smart to
marry Mark Vrain.
I wouldn't marry him now if he
dumped down a million dollars at my feet to-morrow.
(153)


154
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Besides, poppa don't like him at all. I've got my money
and I've got my freedom, and I don't fool away either the
one or the other on that Italian dude."
“Is the Count acquainted with these sentiments ?”
asked Lucian dryly.
“ I guess so, Mr. Denzil.
He asked me to marry him
two months after Mark's death, and I just up and told
him pretty plain how the cat jumped."
“ In plain English, you refused him ?"
“ You bet I did,” cried Lydia vigorously. “So you
see, Mr. Denzil, he could not have killed Mark.”
Why not? he did not know your true mind until two
months after the murder."
“ That's a fact, anyhow," commented Mrs. Vrain," but
what the mischief made him buy that rabbit-skin cloak
for ? "
“ I expect he bought it for the woman I mistook for
you."
" And who may
she be?”
“ That is just what I wish to find out. This woman
who came to Jersey Street so often wore this cloak, there-
fore she must have obtained it from the Count. I'll make
him tell me who she is and what she has to do with this
crime."
“ Do you think she has anything to do with it?" said
Mrs. Vrain doubtfully.
" I am certain. It must have been her shadow I saw
on the blind."
“ And the man's shadow was the Count's ? " questioned
Lydia.
" I think so. He bought the cloak for the woman,
visited the man Wrent at Jersey Street, and was seen by
the servant in the back yard. He did not act thus


THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
155
without some object, Mrs. Vrain; you may be sure of
that."
“ Sakes !” said Lydia with a weary sigh.
" I ain't sure
of anything save that my head is buzzing like a sawmill.
Who is Wrent, anyhow ? ”
" I don't know. An old man with a white beard and a
skull-cap of black velvet."
"Ugh!” said Mrs. Vrain with a shiver. “ Mark used
to wear a black skull-cap, and the thought of it makes me
freeze up. Sounds like a judge of your courts ordering a
man to be lynched. Well, Mr. Denzil, it seems to me as
you'd best hustle Ercole. If he knows who the woman
is—and he wouldn't buy cloaks for her if he didn't-he'll
know who this Wrent is. I guess he can supply all
information."
" Where does he live ?"
“Number forty Marquis Street, St. James's. You
go and look him up, while I tell poppa what a mean
white he is. I guess poppa won't let him come near
me again. Pop's an honest man, though he ain't no
Washington.”
“ Suppose I find out that he killed your husband ? "
asked Lucian rising.
“ Then you'd best lynch him right away,” replied
Lydia without hesitation. “I draw the line at murder.
Some!”
The barrister was somewhat disgusted to hear Mrs.
Vrain so coolly devote her whilom admirer to a shameful
death. However, he knew that her heart was hard and
her nature selfish; so there was little use in showing any
outward displeasure at her want of charity. She had
cleared herself from suspicion and evidently cared not
who suffered, so long as she was safe and well spoken of.


156
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Moreover, Lucian had learned all he wished about her
movenients on the night of the crime; and taking a hasty
leave, he went off to Marquis Street for the purpose of
bringing Ferruci to book for his share in the terrible
business. However, the Count proved to be from home,
and would not be back, so his servant said, until late that
night.
Denzil therefore left a message that he would call at
noon the next day, and drove from St. James's to Ken-
sington, where he visited Diana. Here he detailed what
he had learned and done from the time he had visited
Mrs. Bensusan up to the interview with Lydia. Also
he displayed the cloak and narrated how Mrs. Vrain had
cleared herself of its purchase.
To all this Diana listened with the greatest interest,
and when Lucian ended she looked at him for some
moments in silence. In fact, Diana, with all her wit and
common sense, did not know how to regard the present
position of affairs.
“Well, Miss Vrain !” said Lucian, seeing that she did
not speak. “What do you think of it all ? "
“ Mrs. Vrain appears to be innocent,” said Diana in a
low voice.
“Assuredly she is ! the evidence of the Pegall family
-given in all innocence-proves that she could not have
been in Geneva Square or in Jersey Street on Christmas
Eve."
“Then we come back to my original belief, Mr. Denzil.
Lydia did not commit the crime herself, but employed
Ferruci to do so.”
"No," replied Denzil decidedly; "whether the Italian
is guilty or not, Mrs. Vrain knows nothing about it. If
she was cognisant of his guilt she would not have risked


THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
157
going with me to Baxter & Co., and letting me discover
that Ferruci had bought the cloak. Nor would she so
lightly surrender a possible accomplice as she has done
Ferruci. Whatever can be said of Mrs. Vrain's conduct
-and I admit that it is far from perfect-yet I must say
that she appears by the strongest evidence to be totally
innocent and ignorant. She knows no more about the
matter than her father does."
“Well!” said Diana, unwilling to grant her step-
mother too much grace, we must give her the benefit
of the doubt. What about Ferruci ? "
“So far as I can see, Ferruci is guilty," replied Lucian.
“To clear himself he will have to give the same proof
as Mrs. Vrain. Firstly, he will have to show that he
was not in Jersey Street on Christmas Eve; secondly,
he will have to prove that he did not buy the cloak.
But in the face of the servant's evidence, and the
statement of the shopwoman, he will find it difficult
to clear himself. Yet," added Lucian, remembering
his failure with Lydia, “it is always possible that he
may do so."
“ It seems to me, Mr. Denzil, that your only chance of
getting at the truth is to see the Italian."
“I think so myself. I will see him to-morrow.”
“Will you take Mr. Link with you ? ”
“No, Miss Vrain. As I have found out so much
without Link, I may as well proceed in the matter until
his professional services are required to arrest Count
Ferruci. By the way, I have never seen that gentleman.
Can you describe to me his appearance.”
“Oh, as far as looks go there is no fault to be found
with him," answered Diana : “he is a typical Italian: tall,
slender, and olive complexioned. He speaks English


158
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
very well indeed, and appears to be possessed of con-
siderable education. Certainly, to look at him, and to
speak with him, you would not think he was a villain
likely to murder a defenceless old man. But if he did
not kill my poor father, I know not who did.”
“I'll call on him to-morrow at noon,” said Lucian,
“and later on I shall come here to tell you what has
passed between us."
This remark brought the business between them to a
close; but Lucian would fain have lingered to engage
Diana in lighter conversation. Miss Vrain, however,
was too much disturbed by the news he had brought her
to indulge in frivolous talk. Her mind, busied with re-
collections of her deceased father, and anxiously seeking
some means whereby to avenge his death, was ill-attuned
to encourage at the moment the aspirations which she
knew Lucian entertained.
The barrister therefore sighed and hinted in vain. His
Dulcinea would have none of him or his courting; and he
was compelled to retire, as disconsolate a lover as could
be seen. To slightly alter the saying of Shakespeare,
" the course of true love never does run smooth,” but
there were surely an unusual number of obstacles in the
current of Denzil's desires. But as he consoled himself
with reflecting that the greater the prize the harder it
is to win, so it behoved him to do his devoir like a
true knight.
The next day at noon Lucian, armed for the encounter
with the evidence of Rhoda and of the cloak, presented
himself at the rooms which Count Ferruci temporarily
inhabited in Marquis Street. He not only found the
Italian ready to receive him, but in full possession of the
adventure of the cloak, which, as he admitted, he had


160
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
66
up
“Very good, I hope his evidence will clear you," re-
plied the more phlegmatic Englishman. “ And this
cloak ?
I never bought the cloak! I saw it not before !"
“Then come with me to the shop in Bayswater, and
hear what the girl who sold it says."
“I will come at once," cried Ferruci hastily, catching
his cane and hat, "come then, my friend, come. What
does the woman say?”
66 That she sold the cloak to a tall man-to a dark
man with a moustache and one who told her he was
Italian.”
“Bah!” retorted the Count as they hailed a hansom,
“is that all she can say! why all we Italians are sup-
posed to be tall and dark and wear moustaches. Your
common people in England never fancy one of us can
be fair."
You are not fair," replied Lucian drily, “and your
looks correspond to the description."
“True! oh, yes, sir! but that description might describe
a dozen of my countrymen. And, Mr. Denzil," added the
Count laughing, “I do not go round about saying to
common people that I am an Italian. It is not my
custom to explain.”
Lucian shrugged his shoulders and said no more until
they entered the shop in Bayswater. As he knew from
the previous visit where the saleswoman was located, he
led the Count rapidly to the place. The girl was there
as brisk and business-like as ever. She looked up as
they approached, and came forward to serve them with a
swift glance at both.
“I am sorry to trouble you again," said Lucian cere-
moniously, “ but you told me yesterday that you sold a


THE DEFENCE OF COUNT FERRUCI
161
blue cloak lined with rabbit skin to an Italian gentleman,
and
“ And am I the gentleman ?” interrupted Ferruci,“ did
I buy a cloak?"
“No," replied the shopwoman after a sharp glance.
“ This is not the gentleman who bought the cloak.”
II


CHAPTER XX
A NEW DEVELOPMENT
“You see, Mr. Denzil,” said Ferruci turning triumphantly
to Lucian, “I did not buy this cloak; I am not the Italian
this lady speaks of.”
Lucian was extremely astonished at this unexpected
testimony in favour of the Count, and questioned the
shopwoman sharply. “Are you certain of what you
say ?” he asked looking at her intently.
"Yes, I am, sir,” replied the girl stiffly, as though she
did not like her word doubted. “The gentleman who
bought the cloak was not so tall as this one! nor did he
speak English well. I had great difficulty in learning
what he wanted.”
“But you said that he was dark, with a moustache-
and
“I said all that, sir; but this is not the gentleman."
“Could you swear to it?" said Lucian more chagrined
than he liked to show to the victorious Ferruci.
“If it is necessary, I could, sir," said the shopwoman
with the greatest confidence; and after so direct a reply
and such certain evidence, Denzil had nothing to do but
retire from an awkward position as gracefully as he
could.
(162)


A NEW DEVELOPMENT
163
“And now, sir," said Ferruci who had followed him
out of the shop, “ you come with me, please.”
“Where to?" asked Lucian gloomily.
"To my friend—to my rooms. I have shown I did
not buy the cloak you speak of. Now we must find my
friend Dr. Jorce to tell you I was not at Jersey Street
when you say."
“Is Dr. Jorce at your rooms ? '
“I asked him to call about this time,” said Ferruci
glancing at his watch. " When Mrs. Vrain speak to me
of what you say, I wish to defend myself, so I write last
night to my friend to talk with you this day. I get his
telegram saying he would come at two hours.”
Lucian glanced in his turn at his watch. “Half-past
one,” he said beckoning to a cab, “very good, Count, we
will just have time to get back to your place.”
“And what you think now?” said Ferruci with a
malicious sparkle in his eyes.
"I don't know what to think," replied Lucian dismally,
“save that it is a strange coincidence that another Italian
should have bought the cloak.”
The Count shrugged his shoulders as they got into the
hansom, but he did not speak until they were well on
their way back to Marquis Street. He then looked
thoughtfully at his companion. “I do not believe co-
incidence,” he said abruptly, “but in design."
“What do you mean, Count? I do not quite follow
you."
“ Some one who knows I love Mrs. Vrain wish to
injure me,” said the Italian rapidly, " and so make their-
self like me to buy that cloak. Ah, you see! but he could
not make himself as tall as me. Oh, yes, sir, I am sure
it is so.”


A NEW DEVELOPMENT
165
than a changeling from fairyland. Quite an exceptional
man was Dr. Jorce, and, as the Italian said, “most
strange".
“My good friend," said Ferruci, laying his stern hand
on the shoulder of this oddity, “this gentleman wishes
you to decide a-what do you say ?-bet ?
"A bet ? ” cried the little doctor in a deep bass voice,
but with some indignation, “ do I understand, Count,
that you have brought me all the way from my place
in Hampstead to decide a bet?”
“Ah, but, sir, it is a bet most important," said Ferruci
with a smile, “this Mr. Denzil declares that he saw me
in Pim-Pim-what?
“In Pimlico," said Lucian, seeing that Ferruci could
not pronounce the word. “ I say that the Count was in
Pimlico on Christmas Eve.”
“ You are wrong, sir,” said Jorce, with a wave of his
skinny hand, “my friend, Count Ferruci, was in my
house at Hampstead on that evening."
“ Was he ? ” remarked Lucian, astonished at this con-
fident assertion, “and at what time did he leave ? "
“ He did not leave until next morning,” replied Jorce.
“My friend, the Count, remained under my roof all
night, and left at twelve o'clock on Christmas morning."
“So you see,” said Ferruci airily to Lucian, “ that I
could not have done what you think, as that was done-
by what you said—between eleven and twelve on that
night.”
“ Was the Count with you at ten o'clock on that even-
ing?" asked Denzil.
“Certainly he was ; so you have lost your bet, Mr.
Denzil. Sorry to bring you such bad fortune, but truth
is truth, you know.”


166
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
on
me
“Would you repeat this statement if I wished, Dr.
Jorce ?"
“Why not? Call
at any time.
· The
Haven, Hampstead'; that address will always find
me.”
“ Ah, but I do not think it will be necessary for Mr.
Denzil to call on you, sir,” interposed the Count rapidly,
“you can always come to me. Well, Mr. Denzil, are
you satisfied ? "
"I am,” replied Lucian. “I have lost my bet, Count,
and I apologise. Good-day, Dr. Jorce, and thank you.
Count Ferruci, I wish you good-bye.”
“ Not even au revoir ?” said Ferruci mockingly.
“ That depends upon the future,” replied Lucian coolly;
and forthwith went away in low spirits at the downfall
of his hopes. Far from revealing the mystery of Vrain's
death, his late attempts to solve it had resulted in utter
failure. Lydia had cleared herself; Ferruci had proved
himself innocent; and Lucian could not make up his
mind what was now to be done. Darkness was on all
sides, and there was not a single beam of light to
show the way.
In this dilemma he sought out Diana, as, knowing from
experience that where a man's logic ends a woman's
instinct begins, he thought she might suggest some
way out of the difficulty. On arriving at the Royal John
Hotel, he found that Diana was waiting for him with
great impatience; and hardly gaving herself time to
greet him, she asked how he had fared in his interview
with Count Ferruci.
“ Has that man been arrested, Mr. Denzil ? ” she asked,
almost as soon as Lucian sat down.
No, Miss Vrain, I regret to say that he has not been


168
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
" But Rhoda the servant saw him both in the house
and in the back yard."
“She saw a dark man with a moustache, but she could
not say that he was a foreigner. She does not know
Ferruci, remember. The man she saw must have been
the same as the purchaser of the cloak.”
“Where does Ferruci say he was?” asked Miss Vrain
sceptically.
“At Hampstead visiting a friend."
“Oh, and what does the friend say ?”
“He declares that the Count was with him on Christ-
mas Eve and stayed all night."
“ That is very convenient evidence for the Count, Mr.
Denzil. Who is this accommodating friend?"
“ A doctor called Jorce."
" Can his word be trusted ?"
“So far as I can judge from his looks and a short
acquaintance I should say so."
“ It was half-past eight when the servant saw the dark
man run out of the yard ?
“ Yes!”
“And at half-past eight Ferruci was at Hampstead in
the house of Dr. Jorce ?"
"Not that I know of," said Lucian, remembering that
he had asked Jorce the question rather generally than
particularly, “but the doctor declared that Ferruci was
with him at ten o'clock on that evening and did not
leave him until next morning; so as your father was
killed between eleven and twelve, Ferruci must be
innocent."
“ It would seem so, if this doctor is to be believed,"
muttered Diana reflectively, “but judging by what you
have told me, there is nothing to show that Ferruci


A NEW DEVELOPMENT
169
was not in Pimlico at eight-thirty and was not the man
whom the servant saw."
“Well, certainly he could get from Pimlico to Hamp-
stead in an hour and a half. However, the main point
about all this evidence is, that neither Ferruci nor Lydia
Vrain killed your father.”
“No! no! that seems clear. Still ! still! they know
about it. Oh, I am sure of it. It must have been
Ferruci who was in Pimlico on that night. If so, he
knows who Wrent is, and why he stayed in Jersey
Street."
“Perhaps, although he denies ever hearing the name
of Wrent. But I would not be surprised if the man who
could solve the mystery is
“ Who? Who ?”
“Doctor Jorce himself," said Lucian.
“ I feel sure
of it."


CHAPTER XXI
TWO MONTHS PASS
UNWILLING to give up prosecuting the Vrain case while
the slightest hope remained of solving its mystery,
Lucian sought out Link, the detective, and detailed all
the evidence he had collected since the constituted authori-
ties had abandoned the matter. Although Mrs. Vrain
and Ferruci had exculpated themselves entirely, Denzil
thought that Link, with his professional distrust and
trained sense of ferreting out secrets, might discern better
than himself whether such exculpations were warranted
by circumstances.
Link heard all that Denzil had to tell him with outward
indifference and inward surprise; for while unwilling,
through jealousy of an amateur, to flatter the barrister by
a visible compliment, yet he silently admitted that Denzil
had made his discoveries and profited by them with much
acuteness. What annoyed him, however, was that the
young man had pushed his inquiries to the uttermost limit;
and that there was no chance of any glory accruing to
himself by prosecuting them further. Still on the possi-
bility that something might come of it, he went over the
ground already traversed by the amateur detective.
“ You should have told me of your intentions when
(170)


TWO MONTHS PASS
171
66 As you
Miss Vrain spoke to you in the first instance,” he said to
Lucian by way of rebuke. “ As it is, you have confused
the clues so much that I do not know which one to
take."
“ It seems to me that I have pursued each clue until
fate or circumstance clipped it short," retorted Lucian,
nettled by this injustice. “Mrs. Vrain has defended her-
self successfully, much in the same way as Count Ferruci
has done. Your only chance of getting at the truth lies
in discovering Wrent; and unless Rhoda helps you there
I do not see how you can trace the man.”
“I am of a different opinion," said Link, lying freely
to conceal his doubts of success in the matter.
have failed through lack of experience I shall attempt to
unravel this skein.”
“You attempted to do so before, and gave it up because
of the tangle,” said Lucian with quiet irony.
“ And un-
less you discover more than I have done, you will dismiss
the matter again as impossible. So far as I can see, the
mystery of Vrain's death is more of a mystery than ever,
and will never be solved."
“ I'll make one last attempt to unriddle it, however,"
answered Link with a confidence he was far from feeling,
“but, of course—not being one of your impossible de-
tectives of fiction, I may fail.”
“You are certain to fail," said Lucian decisively, and
with this disheartening prophesy he left Link to his task
of-apparently-spinning ropes of sand.
Whether it was that Link was so doubtful of the result
as to expend little energy in the search, or whether he
really found the task impossible of accomplishment, it is
difficult to say; but assuredly he failed as completely
as Lucian predicted. With outward zeal he set to


172
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
work; interviewed Lydia and the Italian to make
certain that their defence was genuine; examined the
Pegall family, who were dreadfully alarmed by their
respectability being intruded upon by a common detective;
and obtained a fresh denial from Baxter & Co.'s sales-
woman that Ferruci was the purchaser of the cloak. Also
he cross-questioned Mrs. Bensusan and her sharp hand-
maid in the most exhaustive manner, and did his best to
trace out the mysterious Wrent, who had so much to do
with the matter. He even called on Dr. Jorce at Hamp-
stead to satisfy himself as to the actual time of Ferruci's
arrival in that neighbourhood on Christmas Eve! But
here he received a check, for Jorce had gone abroad on his
annual holiday, and was not expected back for a month.
In fact, Link did all that a man could do, to arrive at
the truth, only to find himself at the end of his labours in
the same position as Lucian had been. Disgusted at this
result, he threw up his brief and called upon Diana and
Denzil, with whom he had previously made an appoint-
ment, to notify his inability to bring the matter to a satis-
factory conclusion.
“ There is not the slightest chance of finding the
assassin of Mr. Vrain," said Link after he had set forth
at length his late failures. “ The more I go into the
matter the more I see it."
“ Yet you were so confident of doing more than I," said
Lucian quietly.
Link turned sulky, after the fashion of a bad loser.
“ I did my best,” he retorted gloomily.
“ No man can
do more.
Some crimes are beyond the power of the law
to punish for sheer lack of proof. This is one of them ;
and, so far as I can see, this unknown assassin will be
punished on Judgment Day, not before.”


Two MONTHS PASS
173
“ Then you don't think that Signor Ferruci is guilty ?”
said Diana.
“No! he has had nothing to do with the matter; nor
has Mrs. Vrain brought about the death in any way.”
“ You cannot say who killed my father ? ”
“Not for certain, but I suspect Wrent.”
“ Then why not find Wrent ? ” asked Diana bluntly.
“ He has hidden his trail too well,” began Link, “and
-and --"
“ And if you did find him,” finished Denzil coolly," he
might prove himself guiltless, after the fashion of Mrs.
Vrain and Ferruci.”
“He might, sir: there is no knowing.
But since you
think I have done so little, Mr. Denzil, let me ask you
who it is you suspect."
“Dr. Jorce of Hampstead !”
“ Pooh! Pooh!” cried Link with contempt. “He
didn't kill the man: how could he, seeing he was at
Hampstead on that Christmas Eve midnight, as I found
out from his servants ?'
“I don't suspect him of actually striking the blow,'
replied Lucian, “but I believe he knows who did."
“ Not he! Dr. Jorce has too responsible a position
to mix himself up in a crime from which he gains no
benefit.”
“Why! what position does he hold ? "
“He is the owner of a private lunatic asylum. Is it
likely that a man like him would commit a murder ?"
“Again I deny that he did commit the crime ; but I am
certain, from the very fact of his friendship with Ferruci,
that he knows more than he chooses to tell. Why should
the Italian be intimate with the owner of a private
asylum,—with a man so much beneath him in rank?"


174
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“I don't know, sir. But if you suspect Dr. Jorce you
had better see him when he comes back from his holi-
days—in a month.”
6. Where is he now?
“In Italy, and the Count has gone with him.”
Diana and Lucian looked at one another, and the
former spoke. “That is strange," she said. “I agree
with Mr. Denzil : it is peculiar, to say the least of it, that
an Italian noble should make a bosom friend of a man so
far inferior to him in position. Don't you think so your-
self, Mr. Link ? "
Madam,” said Link gravely, “I think nothing about
it, save that you will never find out the truth. I have
tried my best and failed, and I am confident enough in
my own power to say that where I have failed no one
else will succeed. Miss Vrain, Mr. Denzil, I wish you
good-day.”
And with this bragging speech, which revealed the
hurt vanity of the man, Mr. Link took his departure.
Lucian held his peace, for in the face of this desertion of
a powerful ally he did not know what to say. Diana
walked to the siting-room window and watched Link dis-
appear into the crowd of passers-by. At that she heaved
a sigh, for with him-she thought-went every chance
of learning the truth, since if he, an experienced person
in such matters, turned back from the quest, there could
assuredly be no help in any one not professional and with
less trained abilities.
Then she turned to Lucian.
“ There is nothing more to be done, I suppose,” said
she, sighing again.
“I am afraid not," replied Lucian dismally, for he was
quite of her opinion regarding the desertion of the detective.


Two MONTHS PASS
175
" Then I must leave this unknown assassin to the
punishment of God," said Diana quietly.
" And I can
only thank you for all you have done for me, Mr. Denzil,
and say”—she hesitated and blushed, then added with
some emphasis—" say au revoir."
“Ah !” ejaculated Denzil with an indrawn breath of
relief, “I am glad you did not say good-bye."
“I don't wish to say it, Mr. Denzil. I have not so
many friends in the world that I can afford to lose so
good a one as yourself.”
“I am content,” said Lucian softly, " that you should
think of me as your friend—for the present.”
His meaning was so unmistakable that Diana, still
blushing and somewhat confused, hastened to prevent
his saying more at so awkward a moment.
6. Then as
my friend I hope you will come and see me at Berwin
Manor.”
“ I shall be delighted. When do you go down ?"
“ Within a fortnight. I must remain that time in
town to see my lawyer about the estate left by my poor
father.”
" And see Mrs. Vrain ?"
“No!” replied Diana coldly. “ Now that my father
is dead Mrs. Vrain is nothing to me. Indirectly I look
upon her as the cause of his death, for if she had not
driven both of us out of our own home my father might
have been alive still. I shall not call on Mrs. Vrain,
and I do not think she will dare to call on me."
“ I'm not so sure of that,” rejoined Lucian, who was
well acquainted with the lengths to which Mrs. Vrain's
audacity would carry her, “but let us dismiss her with
all your other troubles. May I call on you again before
you leave town ?"


176
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Occasionally,” replied Diana, smiling and blushing;
“ and you will come down to Berwin Manor when I send
you an invitation ? "
“I should think so,” said Denzil in high glee as he
rose to depart, “and now I will say
“Good-bye," said Miss Vrain, holding out her hand.
“No. I'll use your own form of farewell, au revoir.”
Then Lucian went out from the presence of his be-
loved, exulting that she had proved so kind as not to
dismiss him when she no longer required his services.
In another woman he would not have minded such in-
gratitude, but had Diana banished him thus he would
have been miserable beyond words. Also, as Lucian
joyfully reflected, her invitation to Berwin Manor showed
that far from wishing to lose sight of him, she desired to
draw him into yet closer intimacy. There could be
nothing but good resulting from her invitation and his
acceptance, and already Denzil looked forward to some
bright summer's day in the green and leafy country
when he should ask this goddess among women to be
his wife. If encouragement and looks and blushes went
for anything he hardly doubted the happy result.
In the meantime, while Lucian dreamed his dreams,
Diana, also dreaming in her own way, remained in town
and attended to business. She saw her lawyers, and had
her affairs looked into, so that when she went to Bath
she was legally installed as the mistress of Berwin
Manor and its surrounding acres. As Lucian hinted,
Lydia did indeed try to see her step-daughter. She called
twice and was refused admission into Diana's presence !
She wrote three times, and received no reply to her
letters: so the consequence was that, finding Diana
declined to have anything to do with her in any way


Two MONTHS PASS
177
whatsoever, she became very bitter. This feeling she
expressed to Lucian whom she one day met in Picca-
dilly.
“ As if I had done anything," finished Lydia after a
recital of all her grievances. “ I call it real mean. Don't
you think
so,
Mr. Denzil?”
***" If you ask me, Mrs. Vrain," said Lucian stiffly, “I
think
you
and Miss Vrain are better apart.”
s Of course
you defend her. But I guess I can't blame
you, as I know what you are driving at.”
“What about Signor Ferruci ?” asked Denzil parrying
the question.
“Oh, we are good friends still, but nothing more. As
he proved that he did not kill Mark, I've no reason to
give him his walking ticket. But,” added Mrs. Vrain
drily, “I guess you'll be married to Diana before I
hitch up 'longside Ercole."
“How do you know I shall marry Miss Vrain ? ” asked
Lucian, flushing.
“ If you saw your face in a glass you wouldn't ask, I
guess. Tomatoes ain't in it for redness. I won't dance
at your wedding; and I won't break my heart either,"
and with a gay nod Mrs. Lydia Vrain tripped away,
evidently quite forgetful of the late tragedy in her life.
12


CHAPTER XXII
AT BERWIN MANOR
The heritage of Diana lay some miles from Bath in a
pleasant wooded valley, through which meandered a
placid and slow-flowing stream. On either side of this
water stretched broad meadow lands, flat and fertile, as
well they might be, seeing they were of rich black loam
and well drained withal. To the right these meadows
were bounded by forest lands, the trees of which grew
thickly up and over the ridge, and on the space where
wood met fields was placed the manor: a quaint square
building of Georgian architecture, and some two centuries
old.
Against the green of the trees its warm walls of red
brick and sloping roof of bluish slate made a pleasant
spot of colour. There stretched a terrace before it; be-
neath the terrace a flower garden and orchard; and below
these the meadow lands, white with snow in winter, black
in spring with ridgy furrows, and golden with grain in
the hot days of summer. Altogether a lovely and peace-
ful spot, where a man could pass pleasant days in rural
quiet, a hermitage of rest for the life-worn and heart
weary.
Here towards the end of summer came Lucian, to rest
(178)


AT BERWIN MANOR
179
his brain after the turmoil of London, and to court his
mistress under the most favourable circumstances. Diana
had established herself in her ancestral home with a
superannuated governess as a chaperon; for without
such guardianship she could hardly have invited the bar-
rister to visit her. Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid,
silver-haired old dame, who, having taught Diana for
many years, had returned, now that the American Mrs.
Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days under
the roof of her dear pupil.
She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was just as
well, seeing what was the object of his visit, and com-
placently watched the growing attachment between the
handsome young couple, who seemed so suited to one
another. But her duties as chaperon were nominal, for
when not pottering about the garden she was knitting in
a snug corner, and when knitting failed to interest her
she slumbered quietly, in defiance of the etiquette which
should have compelled her to make a third in the con-
versation of her young friends.
As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they found
that they had so many tastes in common, and enjoyed
each other's society so much, that they were hardly ever
apart. Diana saw with the keen eyes of a woman that
Lucian was in love with her, and let it be seen in a
marvellously short space of time, and without much diffi-
culty, that she was in love with him.
But even after Lucian had been at the manor a
fortnight, and daily in the society of Diana, he spoke
no word of love. Seeing how beautiful she was, and
how dowered with lands and rents and horses, he
began to ask himself whether it was not rather a pre-
sumption on his part to ask her to share his life. He had


AT BERWIN MANOR
181
“She might not listen to me," said this doubting lover
dolefully.
“Very true," replied his consoler; "on the other hand,
she might. Besides, Mr. Denzil, however much the
world may have altered since my youth, I have yet to
learn that it is the lady's part to propose to the gentle-
man.”
“But, Miss Barbar, I am poor.”
" What of that? Diana is rich."
“ Don't I know it ? For that very reason I hesitate to
ask her.”
“ Because you are afraid of being called a fortune-
hunter, I suppose," said the old lady drily," that shows
a lack of moral courage which is not worthy of you, Mr.
Denzil. Take an old woman's advice young man, and
put your fortunes to the test. Remember Montrose's
advice in the song.'
“You approve of my marrying Diana-I mean Miss
Vrain ?"
“From what I have seen of you, and from what Diana
has told me about you, I could wish her no better
husband. Poor girl, after the tragical death of her father
and her wretched life with that American woman, she
deserves a happy future."
“And do you think-do you really think that she-
that she-would be happy with—with me?” stammered
Lucian, hardly daring to believe Miss Priscilla, whose
acquaintance with him seemed too recent to warrant such
trust.
The wise old woman laughed and nodded.
“ Ask her yourself, my dear,” she said patting his hand.
“She will be able to answer that question better than I;
besides girls like to say “yea,' or 'nay,' themselves,"


182
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
This seemed to be good advice, and certainly none
could have been more grateful to the timid lover. That
very night he made up his mind to risk his fortunes by
speaking to Diana. It was no easy matter for the young
man to bring himself to do so: for cool, bold and fluent
as he was on ordinary occasions, the fever of love
rendered him shy and nervous. The looks of Diana
acted on his spirits as the weather does on a barometer.
A smile made him jocund and hilarious, a frown abashed
him almost to gloom. And in the April weather of her
presence he was as variable as a weathercock, It is
therefore little to be wondered at that one ordinarily
daring should tremble to ask a question which might be
answered in the negative. True, Miss Barbar's partisan-
ship heartened him a trifle, but he still feared for the
result. Cupid, as well as conscience, makes cowards of
us all—and Lucian was a doubting lover.
Towards the end of his stay Miss Priscilla—as usual-
fell asleep one evening after dinner, and Diana, feeling
the house too warm, stepped out into the garden followed
by Lucian. The sun had just set behind the undulating
hills, and the clear sky to the zenith was of a pale rose
colour, striped towards the western horizon with lines of
golden cloud. In the east a cold blue prevailed, and here
and there a star sparkled in the arch of the sky.
The garden was filled with floating shadows, which
seemed to glide into it from the dark recesses of the near
woods, and in a copse some distance away a night-
ingale was singing to his mate and filling the silence
with melody. The notes fluted sweetly through the still
air, mingling with the sigh of the rising wind, and the
musical splashing of the fountain. This shot up a pillar
of silver water to a great height, and in descending


AT BERWIN MANOR
183
sprinkled the near flower beds with its cold spray. All
was inexpressibly beautiful to the eye and soothing to the
ear-a scene and an hour for love. It might have been
the garden of the Capulets and those who moved in it-
the immortal lovers, as yet uncursed by Fate.
"Only three more days," sighed Lucian as he walked
slowly down the path beside Diana, "and then that noisy
London again."
Perhaps it is as well,” said Diana in her practical
way, “ you would rust here. But is there any need for
you to go back so soon ? '
“I must for my own peace of mind.”
Diana started and blushed at the meaning of his tone
and words.
Then she recovered her serenity and sat down on an
old stone seat, near which stood a weather beaten statue
of Venus. Seeing that she kept silent in spite of his
broad hint, Lucian--to bring matters to a crisis-resolved
to approach the subject in a mythological way through the
image of the goddess.
“I am sorry I am not a Greek, Miss Vrain,” he said
abruptly.
“Why?” said Diana, secretly astonished by the irrelev-
ancy of the remark.
Lucian plucked a red rose from the bush which grew
near the statue and placed it on the pedestal.
“Because I would lay my offering at the feet of the
goddess and touch her knees to demand a boon.”
“What boon would you ask? ” said Diana in a low
voice.
“I would beseech that in return for my rose of flowers,
she would give me the rose of womanhood.”
“A modest request. Do you think it would be granted ?”


184
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Do you ? " asked Lucian picking up the rose again.
“How can I reply to your parables or read your
dark sayings ?” said Diana, half in earnest, half in
mirth.
“I can speak plainer if you permit it.”
“If—if you like ! ”
The young man laid the rose on Diana's lap. " Then
in return for my rose give me-yourself.”
“Mr. Denzil!” cried Diana starting up whereby the
flower fell to the ground. “You-you surprise me!”
“ Indeed, I surprise myself,” said Lucian sadly. “That
I should dare to raise my eyes to you is no doubt sur-
prising."
" I don't see that at all,” exclaimed Diana coldly. “I
like to be woo'd like a woman, not honoured like a god-
dess."
“ You are both woman and goddess! but—you are not
angry?"
Why should I be
angry
?”
- Because I - I love you!'
“I cannot be angry with-with-shall we say a com-
pliment ? ”
“Oh, Diana!”
“Wait! wait !” cried Miss Vrain, waving back this too
" You cannot love me ! You have known
me only a month or two."
“Love can be born in an hour," cried Lucian eagerly.
“I loved you on the first day I saw you! I love you now
I shall love you ever.”
“Will you truly love me ever, Lucian ?”
“Oh, my darling, can you doubt it? And you ?” he
looked at her hopefully.
" And I?” she repeated in a pretty mocking tone, " and
eager lover.


AT BERWIN MANOR
185
"
I?”—with a laugh she bent and picked up the flower-
“ I take the rose and I give you
“Yourself !” cried the enraptured lover, and the next
moment he was clasping her to his breast, “Oh, Diana !
dearest! will you really be my wife?”
“Yes," she said softly, and kissed him.
For a few moments the emotions of both overcame
them too much to permit further speech; then Diana
sat down and made Lucian sit beside her.
Lucian,” she said in a firm voice, "I love you, and I
shall be your wife—when you find out who killed my
poor father.”
“ It is impossible,” he cried in dismay.
“No! we must prosecute the search. I have no right
to be happy while the wretch who killed him is still at
large. We have failed hitherto, but we may succeed yet!
and when we succeed I shall marry you.”
“My darling!” cried Lucian in ecstacy; and then in
a more subdued tone, “ I'll do all I can to find out the
truth. But after all, from what point can I begin afresh?”
“ From the point of Mrs. Vrain,” said Diana unex-
pectedly.
“ Mrs. Vrain?” cried the startled Lucian.
still suspect her?"
“Yes, I do."
“ But she has cleared herself on the most undeniable
evidence."
“Not in my eyes," said Diana obstinately, “if Mrs.
Vrain is innocent how did she find out that the unknown
man murdered in Geneva Square was my father ? "
· By his assumption of the name of Berwin which was
mentioned in the advertisement; also from the descrip-
tion of the body; and particularly by the mention of the
66 Do you


186
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
cicatrice on the right cheek, and of the loss of the little
finger of the left hand."
Diana started. “I never heard that about the little
finger," she said hurriedly. “Are you sure?”
“ Yes! I saw myself when I knew your father as
Berwin that he had lost that little finger.”
“ Then, Lucian, you did not see my father.”
“What?” cried Denzil hardly able to credit her words.
“My father never lost a finger," cried Diana starting to
her feet. “Ah, Lucian, I now begin to see light. That
man, who called himself Berwin, who was murdered, was
not my father. No! I believe-on my soul, I believe,
that father Mark Vrain is alive."
my


CHAPTER XXIII
A STARTLING THEORY
WHEN Diana declared that her father yet lived, Lucian
drew back from her in amazement, for of all impossible
things said of this impossible case this saying of hers
was the strangest and most incredible. Hitherto, not a
suspicion had entered his mind but that the man so
mysteriously slain in Geneva Square was Mark Vrain,
and, for the moment, he thought that Diana was dis-
traught to deny so positive a fact.
“It is impossible," said he, shaking his head, “ quite
impossible. Mrs. Vrain identified the corpse, and so did
other people who knew your father well.”
“ As to Mrs. Vrain," said Diana contemptuously, “I
quite believe she would lie to gain her own ends. And
it may be that the man who died was like my father
in the face, but —-'
“ He had the mark on his cheek ! ” interrupted Lucian,
impatient of this obstinate belief in the criminality of
Lydia.
“ I know that mark well,” replied Miss Vrain. My
father received it in a duel he fought in his youth when
he was a student in a German University ; but the
missing finger -_" She shook her head.
(187)


188
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Still,
“ He might have lost the finger while you were in
Australia," suggested the barrister.
“ He might,” rejoined Diana doubtfully, “ but it is un-
likely. As to other people identifying the body, they no
doubt did so by looking at the face and its scar. I
do not believe the murdered man was my father.”
“ If not, why should Mrs. Vrain identify the body as
that of her husband ?"
Why? Because she wanted to get the assurance
money."
“ She may have been misled by the resemblance of
the dead man to your father.”
“And who provided that resemblance ? My dear Lucian,
I would not be at all surprised to learn that there was
conspiracy as well as murder in this matter. My father
left his home, and Lydia could not find him. I quite
believe that. As she cannot prove his death, she finds
it impossible to obtain the assurance money; so what
does she do ?”
“ I cannot guess,” said Lucian, anxious to hear Diana's
theory.
· Why, she finds a man who resembles my father, and
sets him to play the part of the recluse in Geneva Square.
She selects a man in ill health and given to drink, that
he may die the sooner; and, by being buried as Mark
Vrain, give her the money she wants. When you told
me of this man Berwin's coughing and drinking I thought
it strange, as my father had no consumptive disease when
I left him, and never during his life was he given to over
indulgence in drink. Now I see the truth. This dead
man was Lydia's puppet.”
“Even granting that this is so, which I doubt, Diana,
why should the man be murdered ?”


A STARTLING THEORY
189
Why ? ” cried Diana fiercely, “because he was not
dying quickly enough for that woman's purpose. She
did not kill him herself, if her alibi is to be credited,
but she employed Ferruci to murder him.”
“ You forget, Signor Ferruci also proved an alibi."
“A very doubtful one,” said Miss Vrain scornfully,
"you did not ask that Dr. Jorce the questions you should
have done. Go up to London now, Lucian, see him at
Hampstead, and find out if Ferruci was at his house
at eight o'clock on Christmas Eve. Then I shall believe
him guiltless; till then, I hold him but the creature and
tool of Lydia."
“ Jorce declares that Ferruci was with him at the house
when the murder was committed.”
“Can you believe that? Ferruci may have made it
worth the while of this doctor to lie. And even granting
that much, the presence of Ferruci at the Jersey Street
house shows that he knew what was going to take place
on that night, and, perhaps, arranged with another man
to do the deed; either way you look at it he and Lydia
are implicated."
“I tell you it is impossible, Diana," said Lucian finding
it vain to combat this persistent belief. "All this plot-
ting of crime is such as is found in novels, not in real
life
“In real life,” cried Diana taking the words out of his
mouth, more incredible things take place than can be
conceived by the most fantastic imagination of an author.
Look at this talk of ours; it began with words of love
and marriage speeches, and it ends with a discussion of
murder. But this I say, Lucian, that if you love me, and
would have me marry you, you must find out the truth
of these matters. Learn if this dead man is my father-


190
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
for from what you have told me of the lost finger I do
not believe that he is. Hunt down the assassin and
discover if he is whom I believe him to be-Ferruci
himself; and learn if you can what Lydia has to do with
all these evil matters. Do this and I am yours. Refuse,
and I shall not marry you."
“ You set me a hard task,” said Lucian with a sigh,
"and I hardly know how to set about it.”
“Be guided by me," replied Diana. “Go up to London
and put an advertisement in the papers offering a reward
for the discovery of my father. He is of medium height
with grey hair, and has a clean shaven face with the scar
on it
“You describe the dead man, Diana.”
“ But he has not lost a finger," continued Diana as
though she had not heard him. “If
my
father for fear
of Lydia is in hiding, he will come to you or me in
answer to that advertisement."
“But he must have seen the report of his death by
violence in the papers if indeed he is alive," urged Lucian
at his wit's end.
“My father is weak in the head, and perhaps was
afraid to come out in the midst of such trouble. But if
you put in the advertisement that I-his daughter-am
in England, he will come to me, for with me he knows he
is safe. Also call on Dr. Jorce and find out the truth
about Signor Ferruci.”
And then ?"
“ Then when you have done these two things we shall
see what will come of them. Promise me to do what I
ask you."
But you
“I promise" said Lucian, taking her hand.
send me on a wild-goose chase.”


A STARTLING THEORY
191
12
“That may be, Lucian! But my heart—my presenti-
ment-my instinct-whatever you like to call it-tells
me otherwise. Now let us go inside."
“ Shall we tell Miss Barbar of our engagement ?”
asked Denzil timidly.
“No; you will tell no one of that until we learn the
truth of this conspiracy. When we do, Lucian, you will
find that my father is not dead but is alive, and will be
at our wedding."
• I doubt it; I doubt it.”
“I am sure of it," answered Diana, and slipping her
hand within the arm of her lover she walked with him
up to the house. It was the strangest of wooings.
Miss Barbar, with a true woman's interest in love
affairs, was inclined to congratulate them both when
they entered, deeming—as the chance had been so pro-
pitious—that Lucian had proposed. But Diana looked
so stern, and Lucian so gloomy, that she held her peace.
Later on, when her curiosity got the better of her
desire not to offend her pupil, she asked if Denzil had
spoken.
“Yes,” replied Diana, "he has spoken.”
you have refused him ?” cried the old lady in
dismay, for she did not relish the idea that Lucian should
have lost by her counsel.
“No; I have not refused him.”
“ Then you have said 'yes,' my dear!”
“I have said sufficient,” replied Diana cautiously.
“ Please do not question me any further, Miss Barbar.
Lucian and I understand one another very well.”
" She calls him by his Christian name," thought the
wise old dame, “ that is well. She will not speak of her
happiness: that is ill," and in various crafty ways Miss
6. And


A STARTLING THEORY
193
course, he was surprised to receive a visit from no less a
person than Mr. Jabez Clyne, the father of Lydia.
The little man, usually so bright and merry, now looked
worried and ill at ease. Lucian—so much as he had seen
of him—had always liked him better than Lydia, and was
sorry to see him so downcast. Nor when he learned the
reason was he better pleased. Clyne told it to him in a
roundabout way.
“Do you know anything against Signor Ferruci ? ” he
asked when the first greetings were over.
“Very little; and that bad,” replied Denzil shortly.
“Do you refer to the horrible death of my son-in-law ?
“ Yes I do, Mr. Clyne. I believe Ferruci had a hand
in it, and if you bring him here I'll tell him so."
“Can you prove it ? ” asked Clyne eagerly.
“ No. As yet Ferruci has proved that he was not in
Geneva Square on the night of the crime—or rather,”
added Lucian, correcting himself, “at the hour when
the murder was committed.”
Clyne's face fell. “I wish you could discover if he is
guilty or not,” he said. “I am anxious to know the
truth.”
“Why? " asked Lucian bluntly.
“Because, if he is guilty, I don't want my daughter to
marry a murderer.”
“What? Is Mrs. Vrain going to marry
him?"
"Yes,” said the little man disconsolately, “and I
wish she wasn't.”
“ So do 1—for her own sake. I thought she did not
like him-she said as much to me.”
“I can't make her out, Mr. Denzil. She grew tired
of him for a time, but now she has taken up with
him again ; and nothing I can say or do will stop the
13


CHAPTER XXIV
LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
Although Denzil received Mr. Clyne with all courtesy,
and promised to aid him, if he could, in breaking off
the marriage with Ferruci, by revealing his true charac-
ter to Mrs. Vrain, he by no means made a confidant of
the little man, or entrusted him with the secret of his
plans. Clyne, as he well knew, was dominated in every
way by his astute daughter, and did he learn Lucian's
intentions, he was quite capable--through sheer weak-
ness of character—of revealing the same to Lydia, who
in her turn-since she was bent upon marrying Ferruci-
might retail them to the Italian, and so put him on his
guard.
Denzil therefore rid himself of the American by pro-
mising to tell him, on some future occasion, all that he
knew about Ferruci. Satisfied with this, Clyne departed
in a more cheerful mood, and, apparently, hoped for the
best.
After his departure, Lucian again began to consider
his idea of calling on Jorce, regarding the alibi of
Ferruci. On further reflection he judged that, before
paying the visit to Hampstead, it might be judicious to
see Rhoda again, and refresh his memory in connection
(195)


196
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
told you
99
with the events of Christmas Eve. With this idea
he put on his hat, and, shortly after the departure of
Clyne, walked round to Jersey Street.
On ringing the bell the door was opened by Rhoda in
person, looking sharper and more cunning than ever.
She informed him that he could not see Mrs. Bensusan,
as that good lady was in bed with a cold.
“ I don't want to see your mistress, my girl," said
Lucian quickly, to stop Rhoda from shutting the door in
his face, which she seemed disposed to do. “I desire
to speak with you."
" About that there murder ?” asked Rhoda sharply ;
then in reply to the nod of Lucian she continued, “I
all I knew about it when you called before. I
don't know nothing more.”
“Can you tell me the name of the dark man you saw
in the yard ?"
“No, I can't! I know nothing about him."
“ Did you ever hear Mr. Wrent mention his name?”
“ No, sir! He called and he went, and I saw him in
the backyard at 8:30. I never spoke to him, and he
never spoke to me."
“Could you swear to the man if you saw him ?”
• Yes, I could; have you got him with you ?” asked
Rhoda eagerly.
“Not at present," answered Lucian, rather surprised
by the vindictive expression on the girl's face.
" But
later on I may call upon you to identify him.”
“ Do
you
know who he is?” asked the servant quickly.
" I think so."
• Did he kill that man?"
“Possibly," said Denzil, wondering at these very
pointed questions. “Why do you ask ? ”


LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
197
“I have my reasons, sir. Where is
my
cloak?'
“I will return it later on; it will probably be used as
evidence.”
Rhoda started. “Where?” she demanded with a
frown.
" At the trial.”
“Do you think they'll hang the person who killed Mr.
Vrain ? "
“ If the police catch him, and his guilt is proved, I am
sure they will hang him.”
The girl's eyes flashed with a wicked light, and she
clasped and unclasped her hands with a quick nervous
movement. “I hope they will,” she said in a low rapid
voice. “ I hope they will."
“What ? ” cried Lucian with a step forward, “ do you
know the assassin ?"
“No!” cried Rhoda with much vehemence.
I don't, but I think the murderer ought to be hanged. I
know-I know-well I know something-see me to-
morrow night and you'll hear.”
" Hear what?"
“ The truth,” said this strange girl, and shut the door
before Lucian could say another word.
The barrister, quite dumfoundered, remained on the
step looking at the closed door. So important were
Rhoda's words that he was on the point of ringing
again, to interview her once more and force her to
speak. But when he reflected that Mrs. Bensusan was
in bed, and that Rhoda alone could re-open the door-
which from her late action it was pretty evident she
would not do—he decided to retire for the present. It
was little use to call in the police, or create trouble by
forcing his way into the house, as that might induce
6. I swear


LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
199
existing between Ferruci and Jorce, he set out for Hamp-
stead to interview the doctor.
“ The Haven,” as Jorce with some humour termed his
private asylum, was a red brick house, large, handsome
and commodious, built in a wooded and secluded part
of Hampstead. It was surrounded by a high brick wall,
over which the trees of its park could be seen; and
possessed a pair of elaborate iron gates, opening on to
a quiet country lane. Externally it looked merely the
estate of a gentleman.
The grounds were large, and well laid out in flower
gardens and orchards; and as it was Dr. Jorce's system
to allow his least crazy patients as much liberty as was
possible, they roamed at will round the grounds, giving
the place a cheerful and populated look.
The more
violent inmates were, of course, secluded; but these were
well and kindly treated by the doctor. Indeed, Jorce was
a very humane man and had a theory that more cures of
the unhappy beings under his charge could be effected by
kindness than by severity.
His asylum was more like a private hotel with paying
guests than an establishment for the retention of the in-
sane, and even to an outside observer the eccentricities of
the doctor's family—as he loved to call them—were not
more marked than many of the oddities possessed by
people at large. Indeed, Jorce was in the habit of saying
that, “ There were more mad people in the world than
were kept under lock and key,” and in this he was doubt-
less right. However, the kindly and judicious little man
was like a father to those under his charge, and very
popular with them all. Anything more unlike the popular
conception of an asylum than the establishment at Hamp-
stead can scarcely be imagined.


200
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
When Lucian arrived at “ The Haven” he found that
Jorce had long since returned from his holiday, and was
that day at home; so on sending in his card he was at
once admitted into the presence of the local potentate.
Jorce, looking smaller and more like a fairy changeling
than ever, was evidently pleased to see Lucian, but a look
on his dry, yellow face indicated that he was somewhat
puzzled to account for the visit. However, preliminary
greetings having passed, Lucian did not leave him long
in doubt.
“ Dr. Jorce,” he said boldly and without preamble, “I
have called to see you about that alibi of Signor Fer-
ruci's.”
“ Alibi is a nasty word, Mr. Denzil,” said Jorce, looking
sharply at his visitor.
Perhaps ! but it is the only word that can be used
with propriety."
“ But I thought that I was called on to decide a bet."
“Oh! that was Count Ferruci's clever way of putting
it,” responded Lucian with a sneer. “ He did not wish
you to know too much about his business.”
“ Hʼm! Perhaps I know more than you think, Mr.
Denzil.”
“What do you mean, sir ? ” cried Lucian sharply.
“ Softly, Mr. Denzil, softly,” rejoined the doctor, waving
his hand. “I shall explain everything to your satisfac-
tion. Do you know why I went to Italy?”
· No, no more than I know why you went with
Signor Ferruci," replied Lucian, recalling Link's com-
munication.
“Ah!” said Jorce placidly, "you have been making
inquiries, I see. But you are wrong in one particular. I
did not go to Italy with Ferruci ; I left him in Paris, and


LUCIAN IS SURPRISED
201
66
I went on myself to Florence to find out the true
character of the man."
Why did you wish to do that, doctor ? ”
“ Because I had some business with our mutual friend
the Count, and I was not altogether pleased with the way
in which it was conducted. Also, my last interview with
you about that bet made me suspicious of the man. Over
in Florence I learned sufficient about the Count to
assure me that he is a bad man, with whom it is as
well to have as little to do as possible. I intended to
return at once with this information and to call on
you, Mr. Denzil. Unfortunately I fell ill of an attack
of typhoid fever in Florence, and had to stay there these
two months.”
“I am sorry,” said Lucian, noting that the doctor did
look ill, “ but why did you not send on your
information
to me?"
" It was necessary to see you personally, Mr. Denzil.
I arrived back a few days ago, and intended writing to
you when I recovered from the fatigue of the journey.
However, your arrival saves me the trouble. Now I can
tell you
all about Ferruci if
you
like.”
“ Then tell me, Doctor, if you spoke truly about that
alibi ?”
“ Yes, I did. Count Ferruci was with me on that
night, and stayed here until the next morning.”
“ What time did he arrive ?”
“ About ten o'clock; or, to be precise,” said Jorce,
" about ten-thirty."
“Ah!” cried Lucian exultingly, “ then Ferruci must
have been the man in the back yard.”
“What do you mean by that?" asked Jorce in a puzzled
tone.


202
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
Why! that Count Ferruci has had to do with a crime
committed some months ago in Pimlico. A man called
Mark Vrain was murdered, as you may have seen in the
papers, Doctor, and, I believe, Ferruci murdered him.”
“ If I remember rightly,” said Jorce with calmness,
“the man in question was murdered shortly before mid-
night on Christmas Eve. If that is so, Ferruci could not
have killed him, because, as I said before, he was here
at half-past ten on that night.”
“I don't say he actually killed the man,” explained
Lucian eagerly, “ but he certainly employed some one to
strike the blow, else what was he doing in the Jersey
Street yard on that night? You can say what you like,
Dr. Jorce, but that man is guilty of Mark Vrain's death.”
“ No," replied Jorce coolly, “he is not, for the simple
reason that Vrain is not dead.”
“ Not dead ?” repeated Lucian, recalling Diana's belief.
“No! For the last few months Mark Vrain, under the
name of Michael Clear, has been in this asylum.”


A DARK PLOT
205
Jorce ; and when the barrister for his private information
had made a note of the address, he continued : “ It then
appeared that Clear was married. The wife told Ferruci
that she was afraid of her husband, who, in his fits of
drink,—for he drank likewise,—often threatened to kill
her. They had lost their money, and the poor woman
was at her wit's end what to do. Ferruci explained to
me that out of friendship, he was most anxious to
befriend Clear, and stated that Mrs. Clear wished to
get her husband cured. He proposed, therefore, to
put Clear into my asylum, and pay on behalf of the
wife.”
"A very ingenious and plausible plan," said Lucian.
“Well, Doctor, and what did you say?"
“ I agreed, of course; provided the man was certified
insane in the usual way. Ferruci then departed promis-
ing to bring Mrs. Clear to see me. He brought her late
on Christmas Eve at ten
“Ah!” interrupted Lucian, "did she wear a black
guaze veil with velvet spots ?”
“She did, Mr. Denzil. Have you met her ? ”
“No! but I have heard of her. She was the woman
who visited Wrent in Jersey Street. No doubt Ferruci
was waiting for her in the back yard.”
“Who is Wrent?" asked Jorce looking puzzled.
“Don't you know the name, Doctor ?”
“No!”
“ Did Mrs. Clear never mention it?”
“ Never ! ”
« Nor Ferruci ?”
“No! I never heard the name before," replied Jorce
complacently.
“Strange!” said Denzil reflectively. " Yet Wrent


A DARK PLOT
207
My dear sir, at that time the papers were full of the
case and its mystery; and as we have a reading-room in
this asylum, I fancied that Clear had seen the accounts and
had
as a delusion-called himself Vrain. Afterwards he
fell into a kind of comatose state, and for weeks said very
little. He was most abject and frightened, and responded
in a timid sort of way to the name of Clear. Naturally
this confirmed me in my belief that his calling himself
Vrain was a delusion. Then he grew better, and one day
told me that his name was Vrain. Of course, I did not
believe him. Still he was so persistent about the matter,
that I thought there might be something in it, and I
spoke to Ferruci.”
" What did he say?"
“He denied that the man's name was anything but
Clear. That the wife and two doctors—for the
poor
soul
had been duly certified as insane-had put him into the
asylum ; and altogether persisted so strongly in his
original story that I thought it was absurd to put a crazy
man's delusion against a sane man's tale. Besides,
everything regarding the certificate and sequestrating of
Clear had been quite legal. Two doctors—and very
rightly too—had certified to the insanity of the man;
and his wife—as I then believed Mrs. Clear to be—had
consented to his detention.”
“What made you suspicious that there might be some-
thing wrong?" asked Lucian eagerly.
· My visit to meet you at Ferruci's request to prove
the alibi,” responded Jorce. “I thought it was strange,
and afterwards when a detective named Mr. Link called,
I thought it was stranger still."
“But you did not see Link ? "
“ No. I was in Italy then, but I heard of his visit.


208
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
a
In Florence I heard from most accomplished
gossip the whole story of Mr. Vrain's marriage and the
prior engagement of Mrs. Vrain to Ferruci. I guessed
that there might be some plot but I could not quite under-
stand how it was carried out, save that Vrain—as I then
began to believe Clear to be—had been placed in my
asylum under a false name. On my return I intended to
see you, when I was laid up in Florence with the fever.
Now however that we have met, tell me so much of
the story as you know. Afterwards we shall see Mr.
Vrain.”
Lucian was willing enough to show his confidence in
Jorce, the more so as he needed his help. Forthwith
he told him all he knew from the time he had met
Michael Clear, alias Mark Berwin, alias Mark Vrain in
Geneva Square, down to the moment he had presented
himself for information at the gates of the “ Haven ”.
Doctor Jorce listened with the greatest attention, his little
face puckered up into a grim smile; and shook his head
when the barrister ended his recital.
“A bad world, Mr. Denzil, a bad world,” he said rising.
“Come with me and I'll take you to see my patient.”
" But what do you think of it all ?" said Denzil, eager
for some comment.
“I'll tell you that,” rejoined Jorce, " when you have
heard the story of Mr. Vrain."
In a few minutes Lucian was led by his guide into a
pleasant room with French windows opening on to a wide
verandah, and a sunny lawn set round with flowers.
Books were arranged in shelves round the walls ; news-
papers and magazines were on the table; and near the
window in a comfortable chair sat an old man with a
volume in his hand. As Jorce entered he stood up and


210
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
66
Signor Ferruci, a black-hearted villain"-his face grew
dark as he mentioned the name—“ found me out and
made me come with him to London. He kept-me there
for months, and then he brought me here."
Kept you where, Mr. Vrain ?” asked Lucian gently.
The old man looked at him with a vacant eye. “I
don't know," he said in a dull voice.
“ You came here from Bayswater," hinted Jorce.
Yes, yes; Bayswater,” cried Vrain growing excited.
“I was there with a woman they called my wife. She
was not my wife! My wife is fair: this woman was dark.
Her name was Maud Clear: my wife's name is Lydia.”
“ Did Mrs. Clear say you were her husband, Michael ?
- Yes! She called me Michael Clear, and brought me
to stay with the doctor. But I am not Michael Clear."


CHAPTER XXVI
THE OTHER MAN'S WIFE
As soon as Lucian arrived back in his rooms he sat down
at his desk and wrote a long letter to Diana giving a full
account of his extraordinary discovery of her father in
Jorce's asylum, and advising her to come up at once to
London.
When he posted this—which he did the same night-
he sighed to think that it was not a love letter. He could
have covered reams of paper with words of passion and
adoration; he could have poured out his whole soul at
the feet of his divinity telling her of his love, his aspira-
tions, his hopes and fears. No doubt from a common-
sense view the letter would have been silly enough, but
it would have relieved his mind and completed his
happiness of knowing that he loved and was beloved.
But in place of writing thus, he was compelled by his
promise to Diana to pen a description of his late discovery;
and interesting as the case was now growing, he found it
irksome to detail the incident of the afternoon. He wished
to be a lover not a detective.
So absent-minded and distraught was Lucian, that
Miss Greeb, who had long suspected something was
wrong with him, spoke that very evening about himself,
(211)


212
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
woman.
She declared that Lucian was working too hard, that he
needed another rest, although he had just returned from
the country; and recommended a sleeping draught.
Finally she produced a letter which had just arrived, and,
as it was in a female hand, Miss Greeb watched its effect
on her admired lodger with the keen eyes of a jealous
When she saw him flush and seize it eagerly,
casting meanwhile an impatient look on her to leave the
room, she knew the truth at once and retired hurriedly to
the kitchen, where she shed floods of tears.
“I might have guessed it,” gasped Miss Greeb to a
comfortable cat which lay selfishly before the fire, " he's
far too good looking not to be snapped up. He'll be
leaving me and setting up house with that other woman.
I only hope she'll do for him as well as I have done. I
wonder if she's beautiful and rich. Oh, how dreadful it
all is.” But the cat made no comment on this tearful
address-not as much as a mew. It rolled over into a
warmer place and went to sleep again. Cats are par-
ticularly selfish animals.
Two days afterwards Miss Greeb opened the door to a
tall and beautiful lady, who asked for Mr. Denzil and was
shown into his sitting-room. With keen instinct Miss
Greeb decided that this was the woman who had taken
possession of Lucian's heart; and being a just little
creature, in spite of her jealousy, was obliged to admit
that the visitor was as handsome as a picture.
Then,
seeing that there was no chance for her beside this
splendid lady, she consoled herself with a dismal little
proverb and looked forward to the time when it would be
necessary to put a ticket in the parlour window. Mean-
while, to have some one on whose bosom she could weep,
Miss Greeb went round to see Mrs. Bensusan ; leaving


214
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ Yes, she certainly will! and I've no doubt the As.
surance Company will prosecute her for fraud in obtaining
it. I shall see Ferruci to-morrow and force him to confess
his putting your father in the asylum.”
“No!” said Diana shaking her head, “don't do that
until
you have more evidence against him.”
“I think the evidence of Jorce is strong enough. I
suppose you mean the evidence of Mrs. Clear ?"
“ Yes; although for her own sake I don't suppose she
will speak."
Lucian nodded. “I thought of that also,” he said,
"and yesterday I went to St. Bertha Street, Bayswater,
to see her. But I found that she had moved, and no one
knew where she was. I expect, having received her
price for the conspiracy, she has left London. However,
I put an advertisement in the papers, saying if she called
on me here, she would hear of something to her advan-
tage. It is in the papers this morning."
“I doubt if she will call,” said Diana seriously; "what
about the promised revelation of Rhoda ?”
“I believe that girl is deceiving me," cried Lucian
angrily. "I went round to Jersey Street, as she asked
me, and only saw Mrs. Bensusan, who said that
Rhoda was out and would not be back for some time.
Then I had to wait you here and tell you all about your
father, so the thing slipped my memory. I have not
been near the place since, but I'll go round there to-
night. Whatever is Miss Greeb thinking of ? ” cried
Lucian, breaking off quickly, “that front door bell has
been ringing for at least five minutes."
To Diana's amusement Lucian went and shouted down
the stairs to Miss Greeb; but as no reply came, and the
bell was still ringing furiously, he was obliged to open


216
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“My husband! I have my husband in an asylum.
You can't have met him.”
“ You are telling a falsehood,” said Diana fiercely,
“the gentleman in the asylum of Dr. Jorce is not your
husband, but my father.”
“ Your father ? " echoed the woman insolently, “and
who are you?"
“I am Diana Vrain !"
Mrs. Clear gave a screech and dropped back on to the
sofa, staring at Diana. with wide-open and terrified eyes.
As she did not seem disposed to speak Lucian carried on
the conversation.
“And now, Mrs. Clear, I see you realise the situation,”
he said coldly. “You must confess your share in this
conspiracy."
“ What conspiracy ?” she interrupted furiously.
“ The putting of Mr. Vrain into an asylum, and the
passing off of your husband, Michael Clear, as him.”
"I don't know anything about it!” said Mrs. Clear
defiantly.
“Come, now," said Lucian sternly, "you talk non-
If you refuse to speak I'll have you arrested at
once.”
“Arrest me!” She bounded off the sofa with flashing
eyes.
“Yes; on a charge of conspiracy. It is no use your
getting angry, Mrs. Clear, for it won't improve your
position. We-that is, this lady and myself-wish to
know: Firstly, how your husband came to be masquer-
ading as Mr. Vrain ; secondly, where we can find the
man called Wrent who employed your husband; and
thirdly, Mrs. Clear, we wish to know, and the law wishes
to know, who killed your husband ? "
sense.


218
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ Yes! if only to spite that old villain Wrent, who has
not paid me the money he promised."
Before Lucian and Miss Vrain could express their
pleasure at Mrs. Clear coming to this sensible conclusion
the door opened suddenly, and little Miss Greeb in a
wonderful state of agitation tripped in.
“Oh, Mr. Denzil !” she cried, taking no notice of the
two women, “ I've just been to Mrs. Bensusan's, and
Rhoda's run away.”
“Run away!”
“Yes! she hasn't been back all day, and left a note
for Mrs. Bensusan saying she was going to hide, because
she was afraid."


220
THE SILENT HOUSE ÎN PIMLICO
abandoned it twice. Again, if I call in the police, it is
all over with Lydia and the Count. They will be arrested
and punished.”
“For the murder of Clear ?”
“ Perhaps ! if it can be proved that they have any-
thing to do with it; certainly for the conspiracy to get
the assurance money by the feigned death of your father.”
“Well," said Diana coldly, “and why should they
not receive the reward of their deeds ?”
“Quite so; but the question is, do you wish any
scandal ?"
Diana was silent. She had not looked at the matter
from this point of view. It was true what Lucian said.
If the police took up the case again, Lydia and her
accomplice would be arrested; and the whole sordid story
of their doings would be in the papers.
Diana was a proud woman, and winced at the idea of
such publicity. It would be as well to avoid proceeding
to such extremities. If the assurance money was returned
by Lydia, she would be reduced to her former estate, and
by timely fight might escape the vengeance of the de-
frauded company. After all, she was the wife of Vrain,
and little as Diana liked her, she did not wish to see the
woman who was so closely related to the wronged man
put in prison; not for her own sake, but for the sake of
the name she so unworthily bore.
“ I leave it in your hands,” said Diana to Lucian, who
was watching her closely.
“Very good,” replied Denzil, “then I think it will be
best for me to see Ferruci first and hear his confession;
afterwards call on Mrs. Vrain and learn what she has to
say. Then
“Well," said Diana curiously, "what then?"


A CONFESSION
223
Ferruci, who had been pacing impatiently up and down
the room, stopped short with a nervous laugh.
“This is most amusing,” he said with an emotion he
could not conceal despite his self-control. “ Mrs. Clear
told you all? Eh? She told you what, my friend ?”
“ That is the story I have come to tell you,” replied
Lucian sharply.
“Very good!” said Ferruci with a shrug. “I wait to
hear this pretty story,” and with a frown he threw him-
self into a chair near Lucian. Apparently he saw that
he was found out, for it took him all his time to keep his
voice from trembling and his hands from shaking. The
man was not a coward, but being thus brought face to
face with a peril he little expected, it was scarcely to be
wondered at that he felt shaken and nervous. Moreover,
he knew little about the English law, and hardly guessed
how his misdeeds would be punished. Still he did not
surrender on the spot, but listened quietly to Lucian's
story in the hope of seeing some way of escape from his
awkward position.
“ The other day I went to Dr. Jorce's asylum," said
Lucian slowly, “and there I discovered—it matters not
how—that your friend Clear was Mr. Vrain ; also I
learned that he had been placed in the asylum by you
and Mrs. Clear. Jorce gave me her address in Bays-
water, but when I went there I could not find her; she
had left. I then put an advertisement in all the papers
stating that, if she called on me, she would hear of some-
thing to her advantage. Now, Count, it appears that
Mrs. Clear was in the habit of looking into the papers
to see if there was any message from yourself, or your
friend Wrent, so she saw my advertisement at once, and
came in person to reply to it.”


224
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ One moment, Mr. Denzil,” said Ferruci politely.
"I know no one called Wrent, and he is not my
friend.”
“We'll come to that hereafter,” answered Lucian, with
a shrug. “ In the meantime I'll proceed with my story,
which I see interests you very much. Well, Count, it
seems that Michael Clear was an actor, who bore a strong
resemblance to Mr. Vrain, save that he had not a scar
on his face. Vrain, at Bath, was always clean-shaven,
now he wears a long white beard, but that is neither here
nor there. Clear had a moustache, but when that was
shaved off he looked exactly like Vrain. For purposes
of your own, which you can easily guess, you made the
acquaintance of this man, a profligate and a drunkard,
and proposed for a certain sum of money to be paid to
his wife, that he, Michael Clear, should personate Vrain,
and live in the Silent House in Geneva Square under the
name of Berwin. You knew that Clear.was slowly dying
of consumption and drink, so you trusted that he would
die as Vrain; that Mrs. Vrain—who I believe is in the
plot-would recognise the corpse by the description in
the newspapers; and that, when Clear was buried as
Vrain, she would get the assurance money and marry
you."
" That is clever," said the Count with a sneer.
is it true ?”
“ You know best," answered Lucian coolly.
" How-
ever, all turned out as you expected, for Clear died as
Vrain—or rather was murdered at your command, as he
did not die quickly enough-his body was recognised by
Mrs. Vrain, buried as her husband, and she got the
assurance money. The only thing that remains for
your conspiracy to be entirely successful is that Mrs.
6. But


A CONFESSION
225
Vrain should marry you; and—as I was told by Mr.
Clyne—that has pretty well been arranged."
“ Do you think, then, that Clyne would let his daughter
marry a man who has done all this?” said Ferruci, who
was now very pale.
“ I don't believe Clyne knows anything about it,”
replied Lucian coldly. “You and Mrs. Vrain made up
this pretty plot between you. Vrain himself told me how
you decoyed him from Salisbury, and took him to Mrs.
Clear's in Bayswater, where he passed as her husband,
although, as she confesses, she kept him as a kind of
prisoner.”
“ But this is wrong," cried Ferruci, trying to laugh,
" this is most foolish. How would a man, of his own
will, pass as the husband of a woman he knew not ?”
" A sane man would not; but none knew better than
you, Count, that Vrain was not sane, and that you dosed
him with drugs, and let Mrs. Clear keep him locked up
in her house until you put him in the asylum. Vrain
was a puppet in your hands, and you locked him up
in an asylum a fortnight after the man who personated
him was murdered. You intended to marry Mrs. Vrain
and keep her wretched husband in that asylum all his
life.”
“ The best place for a lunatic," said Ferruci.
“ Ah !” cried Lucian. “ Then you admit that Vrain
was mad?”
“I admit nothing, not even that he is alive. If what
you say is true," said the Italian cunningly, “how
came it that the murdered man had the scar on his
cheek? He might have been like Vrain, eh! but not so
much."
“Mrs. Clear explained that,” replied Lucian quickly,
15


226
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ You made that scar, Count, with vitriol or some such
stuff. You don't know chemistry for nothing, I see.”
“I am quite ignorant of chemistry,” said Ferruci
sullenly.
“ Jorce heard a different story in Florence.”
" In Florence ? Did Jorce ask about me there?” said
the Count, in alarm.
“ He did, and heard some strange tales, Count. Come,
now, it is no use your trying to evade this matter further.
Jorce can prove that you put Clear into his asylum under
the name of Vrain. Miss Vrain can prove that the so-
called Clear is her father, and Mrs. Clear—who has turned
Queen's evidence—has exposed the whole of your con-
spiracy. The game's up, Count.”
Ferruci sprang from his seat and began to walk hastily
up and down the room. He looked haggard and pale,
and years older as he recognised his position, for he saw
very plainly that he was trapped, and that nothing re-
mained to him but flight. But how to fly? He stopped
opposite to Lucian.
“What do you intend to do?” he demanded in a hoarse
voice.
“Have you arrested along with Mrs. Vrain," replied
Lucian, making this threat to force Ferruci into defending
himself or confessing.
“ Mrs. Vrain is innocent; she knows nothing about
this conspiracy, as you call it. I planned the whole thing
myself.”
“You admit, then, that the so-called Vrain was really
Michael Clear ?”
“Yes. I got him to personate the man Vrain so that
I could get the assurance money when I married Lydia.
I chose Clear because he was like Vrain, I made the


228
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“Ah, you wish to know who Wrent is ?
Well ! excuse
me for a few minutes, and I'll bring you something to
show who he is.”
With a nod to Lucian he passed into his bedroom,
leaving the barrister much astonished. He thought that
Ferruci was Wrent himself and had gone away to resume
the disguise of wig and beard. While he pondered thus
the Count reappeared carrying a small bottle in his hand.
“Mr. Denzil," said he with a ghastly smile, “I have
played a bold game, and, thanks to a woman's treachery, I
have lost. I hoped to get twenty thousand pounds and a
charming wife; but I have gained nothing but poverty
and a chance of imprisonment; but I am of noble birth
and I will not survive my dishonour. You wish to know
who Wrent is—you shall never know.”
He raised the bottle to his lips before Lucian, motion-
less with horror, could rush forward, and the next moment
Count Ercole Ferruci was lying dead on the floor.


CHAPTER XXVIII
THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN
That afternoon London was ringing with the news of
Ferruci's suicide ; but no paper could give any reason
for the rash act. This inability was due to the police,
who, anxious to capture those concerned in the con-
spiracy to obtain the assurance money of the Sirius
Company, kept everything they could out of the papers,
lest Lydia and Wrent should be put on their guard and
so escape.
Lucian had been forced to report the death of Ferruci
to the authorities. Now the case was out of his hands
again and in those of Link, who blamed the young bar-
rister severely for not having brought him into the matter
before. The detective was always more prone to blame
than to praise.
“ But what could I do? ” cried Lucian angrily. “You
threw up the case twice, you said the assassin of Clear-
or, as you thought, Vrain-would never be discovered.”
“ I did my best and failed," retorted Link, who did not
like his position, “you have had better luck and have
succeeded."
My luck has been sheer hard work, Link; I was not
so faint-hearted as you, to draw back at the first check.”
(229)


THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN
231
dropped dead before I could recover my presence of
mind."
“ Lucian, this is terrible," cried Diana wringing her
hands.
“You may well say that,” he replied gloomily; "now
the whole details of the case will be in the papers, and
that unfortunate woman will be arrested."
“Lydia! And what will her father say? It will break
his heart."
“ Perhaps ! but he must take the consequence of having
brought up his daughter so badly. Still," added Lucian
reflectively, “ I do not believe that Lydia is so guilty as
Wrent. That scoundrel seems to be at the bottom of
the affair. Ferruci and he contrived and carried out the
whole thing between them, and a precious pair of villains
they are."
" Will Wrent be arrested ? "
“ If he can be found; but I fancy the scoundrel has
made himself scarce out of fright. Since he left Jersey
Street after the murder, he has not been heard of. Even
Mrs. Clear does not know where he is. You know she
has put advertisements in the papers in the cypher
he gave her-according to the arrangement between
them-but Wrent has not turned up."
“ And Rhoda ?”
“Rhoda is still missing. The police are getting
warrants out for the servant, for Wrent, for Mrs. Clear,
and for Lydia Vrain. Ferruci, luckily for himself and
his family, has escaped the law by his own act.
the wisest thing the scoundrel could do to kill himself
and avoid dishonour. I must admit the man had pluck.”
" It is terrible ! terrible! What will be the end of it?"
Imprisonment for the lot, I expect, unless they can
It was


THE NAME OF THE ASSASSIN
233
“ Sakes alive, isn't this awful ? ” she wailed, making a
clutch at Miss Vrain's arm. “ You've done it this time,
Diana. Ferruci's dead and your father alive, and I'm
not a widow, and my father away I don't know where.
I was told that the police were after me, so I'm clearing
out.”
“Clearing out, Mrs. Vrain ?" repeated Diana stiffly.
“ I should think so," sobbed Lydia. "I don't want to
stay and be put in gaol ; though what I've done to be put
in gaol for I don't know."
“What?” cried Lucian indignantly. “You don't know;
when this abominable conspiracy is --"
“I know nothing of the conspiracy !” interrupted
Lydia.
“Did you not get Ferruci to put your husband into an
asylum ?"
“I? I did nothing of the sort. I thought my
I thought my husband
was dead and buried until Ferruci told me the truth, and
then I held my tongue until I could think of what to do.
After Ercole died, his servant came round and told me
all—he overheard the conversation you had with the
Count, Mr. Denzil. I was never so astonished in my
life as to hear about Mrs. Clear and her husband; and
Mark alive-and-and-Oh, Lordl isn't it dreadful ?
Give me a glass of wine, Diana, or I'll go right off in a
dead faint.”
In silence Miss Vrain poured out a glass of port and
handed it to her step-mother, who sipped it in a most
tearful mood. Lucian looked at the wretched little
woman without saying a word; and wondered if indeed
she was as innocent as she made herself out to be. He
thought that after all she might be ignorant of Ferruci's
plots, although she had certainly benefited by them; but
3


236
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“I know that,” said Lucian. “It was Mrs. Clear's
shadow I saw on the blind. She was fighting with her
husband, and when I rang the bell they were both so
alarmed that they left the house by the back way, and
got into Jersey Street. Then Mrs. Clear went home,
and the man himself came round into the Square by the
front
way. That was how I met him; I wondered how
people were in the house during his absence. Mrs. Clear
told me all.'
“Did she say why her husband made you examine the
house?” asked Diana.
“ No! But I expect he made me do so that I
should not have any suspicions about that back entrance.
But, Mrs. Vrain, when Ferruci confessed that your
husband was alive, why did you not tell it to the
world ?"
“Well, I'd got the assurance money, you see," said
Lydia with shrewd candour, "and I thought the com-
pany would make a fuss and take it back—as, I suppose,
they will now. Ferruci wanted me to marry him, but I
wasn't so bad as that. I did not want to commit bigamy.
But I really held my tongue because Ferruci told me
who killed Clear."
“He knew, then ?” cried Lucian, “and denied it to
Who killed the man ?"
“Wrent did; the man who lived in Jersey Street.”
“ And who is at the bottom of the whole plot," said
Lucian furiously. “Do you know where he is to be
found?”
“Yes," said Lydia boldy. “I do; but I'm not going
to tell where he is.”
“Why not?"
“ Because I don't want him punished.”
me.


LINK SETS A TRAP
239
mitting so much, it is impossible to believe that Mr.
Vrain was in Jersey Street. For many months before
Christmas he was in charge of Mrs. Clear at Bayswater."
“So Ercole said,” replied Lydia, “but he used to
get away from Mrs. Clear at times and had to be brought
back."
“ He wandered when he got the chance," said Lucian
with hesitation. “I admit as much.”
"Well, then, when he was not at Bayswater he used to
live in Jersey Street as Wrent. Ferruci found him out there
and tried to get him to go back, and he took Mrs. Clear
several times to the same place in order to persuade him
to return to Bayswater. That was why Mrs. Clear
visited Jersey Street. Oh, Mark played his part there as
Mr. Wrent, I guess; there ain't no two questions about
that,” finished Lydia triumphantly. “He is the assassin,
you bet."
<<
"I don't believe it,” cried Diana furiously.
“Why,
my father is too weak in the head to have the will, let
alone the courage, to masquerade like that. He is like
a child in leading strings."
“ That's his cunning, Diana. He's cute enough to
pretend madness, so that he won't be hanged."
“It is impossible that Vrain can be Wrent,” said
Lucian decidedly. I agree
with Miss Vrain; he is too
weak and irresponsible to carry out such a deed. Besides,
I don't see how you prove him guilty of the murder; you
do not even know that he could enter the Silent House by
the secret way.”
“I don't know anything about it, except what Count
Ferruci told me," said Lydia obstinately. "And he said
that Vrain as Wrent killed Clear. But you can easily
prove if it's true or not."


240
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“How can we prove it ? ” asked Diana coldly.
By laying a trap for Mark. You know—at least
Ercole told me and I suppose Mrs. Clear told you—that
she corresponded with Mark–Wrent, I mean-in the
agony column of the Daily Telegraph.”
“ By means of a cipher? Yes, I know that, but she
hasn't received any answer yet.”
“Of course not," replied Lydia with triumph, “because
Wrent-that's Mark you know—is in the asylum and
can't answer her."
“This is all nonsense,” broke in Lucian impatient of
this cobweb spinning. “I don't believe a word of Ferruci's
story. If Vrain lived in Jersey Street as Wrent why
should Mrs. Clear visit him?"
“ To get him back to Bayswater."
“Nonsense! nonsense! and even admitting as much,
why should Mrs. Clear, in the newspapers, correspond in
cipher with a man whom she not only knows is in an
asylum as her husband, but who can be seen by her at
any time?'
“I quite agree with you, Lucian," cried Diana em-
phatically. “Count Ferruci told a pack of falsehoods to
Mrs. Vrain. The thing is utterly absurd.”
“Oh, I guess I'm not so easily made a fool of as all
that,” cried Lydia, firing up. “If you don't believe me,
lay the trap I told you of. Let Mark go free out of the
asylum ; get Mrs. Clear with her cipher and newspapers
to ask him to meet her in the house where Clear was
murdered, and then you'll see if Mark won't turn up in
his character of Wrent.”
“ He will not !” cried Diana vehemently, “he will
not.”
Mark, when he left me,” went on the angry Lydia,


LINK SETS A TRAP
241
“had plenty of hair, and was clean shaven. Now-as
Ferruci told me, for I haven't seen him-he is bald and
wears a skull cap of black velvet, and a white beard.
After Ercole told me about Jersey Street, I went there
to ask that fat woman about Mark; she said he had gone
away two days after Christmas and described him as an
old man with a skull
cap
and
a
white beard."
“Oh!” cried Lucian; for he recollected that Rhoda
gave the same description.
“Ah, you know I speak the truth," said Lydia rising,
“ but I've had enough of all this. I've lost my money,
and I don't suppose I'll go back to Mark. I've been
treated badly all round, and I don't know what poppa will
say. But I'm going out of London to meet him.”
“ You said you did not know where your
father was ?
cried Diana scornfully,
“ I don't tell you everything, Diana,” retorted Lydia,
looking very wicked, “but if you must know, poppa went
over to Paris last week, and I'm going over there to meet
him. He'll raise Cain for the way I've been treated.”
“Well," said Lucian, as she prepared to take her leave,
“I hope you'll get away."
“ Do you intend to stop me, Mr. Denzil ? ” flashed out
Mrs. Vrain furiously.
“ Not I; but I'll give you a hint. The railway stations
will be watched by the police.”
“For me?” said Lydia with a scared expression. “Oh,
sakes, it's awful, and I've done nothing. It's not my
fault if I got the assurance money. I really thought that
Mark was dead. But I'll try and get away to poppa ; he'll
put things right. Good-bye, Mr. Denzil and Diana;
you've done me a heap of harm, but I don't bear malice,"
and Mrs. Vrain rushed out of the room in a great hurry
16


242
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
to escape the chance of arrest hinted at by Lucian. She
had a sharp eye to her own safety.
Diana waited until the cab which Lydia had kept wait-
ing was driving away, and then turned with an anxious
expression on her face to look at Lucian. My dear,"
she said, taking his arm, “what do you think of Lydia's
accusation ?”
“ Against your father ? ” said Lucian. " Why, I don't
believe it.”
“ Nor do I; but it will be as well to set the trap she
suggests; for if my father does not fall into it--and as he
is not Wrent, I don't believe he will—the real man
may keep the appointment with Mrs. Clear."
“ Whosoever Wrent is I don't think he'll come again
to the Silent House," replied the barrister shaking his
head. “It would be thrusting his head into the lion's
jaws. If he is in London he'll see the death of Ferruci
described in the paper, and no doubt will guess that the
game is up; so he'll keep away."
“Nevertheless we'll do as Lydia suggests,” said Diana
obstinately. “You see Mr. Link and Mrs. Clear, and
arrange about the cipher. Then my father is to be dis-
charged as cured to-morrow, and I'll let him go out if he
pleases. Of course I'll follow him ; then I'll be able to see
if he goes to Pimlico."
“But, Diana, suppose he does go to the Silent House
and proves to be Wrent ?
“He won't do that, my dear. My father is no more
Wrent than you are. I believe Lydia speaks in the full
belief that he is; but Ferruci for his own ends lied to
her. However, to trap the real man let us do as Lydia
suggests. The idea is a good one."
“Well, we'll try," said Lucian with a sigh. “But I do


LINK SETS A TRAP
243
She
rait
hope, Diana, that this case will end soon. Every week
there is some fresh development in a new direction, and
I am getting quite bewildered over it.”
“ It will end with the capture of Wrent the assassin.”
“I hope so, and God grant Wrent does not prove to be
dous
zar,
your father."
lon't
she
man
;ail
his
on's
ruci
the
• There is no fear of that,” said Diana gravely. “My
father is insane more or less, but he is not a murderer.
I am quite content to risk the trap suggested by that
woman.”
Lucian did not at once adopt the plan to net Wrent-
whosoever he might be—invented by Lydia and approved
of by Diana. On the whole, he could not bring himself
to believe that a weak-headed, foolish old creature like
Vrain had masqueraded in Jersey Street as Wrent. Still
there were certain suspicious incidents which fitted in
very neatly with Ferruci's story. Mrs. Clear had stated
that Vrain when under her charge escaped several times,
and had remained away for several days, until brought
back again by the Count. Again, the appearance of
Wrent as described by Rhoda was precisely the same as
the looks of Vrain when Lucian saw him in the Hamp-
stead Asylum; so it seemed that there might be some
truth in the story.
“But it's impossible," said Lucian to himself. “Vrain
is half mad and incapable of conducting his own life, or
arranging so cleverly to commit a crime. Also he had no
money, and had he lived in Jersey Street would not have
been able to pay Mrs. Bensusan. There is something
more in the coincidence of this similarity of looks than
meets the eye. I'll see Link and hear what he has to say
on the subject. It's time he found out something."
The next day Lucian paid a visit to Link, but was not
ana
and
dis-
f he
see
JUSC
1
lore
full
i to
ydia
I do)


244
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
received very amiably by that gentleman, who proved to
be in a somewhat bad temper. He was not altogether
pleased with Lucian finding out more about the case than
he had discovered himself, and also—to further ruffle his
temper—the clever Lydia had given him the slip. He
had called at her Mayfair house with a warrant for her
arrest, only to find out that-having received timely
warning from Ferruci's servant-she had fled. In vain
the railway stations had been watched. Lydia, taking the
hint given to her by Lucian, had baffled that peril by
taking the Dover train at a station outside London.
Lucian heard what Link had to say on the subject, but
did not reveal the fact that Lydia had paid a visit to
Diana, or had gone to meet her father at Dover. He did
not want to give the little woman up to justice, as he
was beginning to believe her innocent: and that in all
truth she had known nothing of the Ferruci-Wrent
conspiracy.
Therefore, giving no information to Link as to the little
woman's whereabouts, Denzil told—as coming from him-
self—his idea that Wrent might fall into a trap set for
him in the Pimlico House by means of Mrs. Clear's
cipher. Link listened to the tale attentively, and decided
to adopt the idea.
" It is a good one,” he admitted generously," and I'm
not jealous enough to cut off my nose to spite my face.
You have had the better of me all through this case, Mr.
Denzil, and we have had words over it: but I'll show you
that I can appreciate your cleverness by adopting your
plan."
“I am greatly obliged to you for your good opinion,”
said Lucian drily, for he saw with some humour that
Link was only too anxious to benefit by the very clever-


LINK SETS A TRAP
245
woman.
ness of which he pretended to be so jealous. “And you
will see Mrs. Clear ?"
“ Yes; I'll see her at once, and get her to invite Wrent
to Pimlico by that cipher, with a threat that she will be-
tray the whole plot if he does not come.”
“I daresay he knows already that Mrs. Clear is a
traitress?"
“Impossible," replied Link quickly. “ I have kept Mrs.
Clear's name out of the papers. It is known that Ferruci
is dead, and that Mrs. Vrain is likely to be arrested in
connection with her supposed husband's murder. But
the fact of Mrs. Clear putting the real Vrain into the
asylum is not known, nor indeed anything about the
If Wrent thinks she'll tell tales, he'll meet her
in their own hunting-grounds in Geneva Square, to make
his terms. Hitherto he has not replied to her requests
for money, but now he'll think she is driven into a
corner, and will fix her up once and for all.”
“Do you think that Wrent is Vrain ?”
“Good Lord, no!" replied Link staring, "what put
that into your head ? ”
Lucian immediately told about the supposed connection
between Vrain and Wrent; but, suppressing that it was
Lydia's or Ferruci's idea, based his supposition on the
fact of the resemblance between the two men. Link
heard the theory with scorn, and scouted the idea that
the two men could be one and the same.
“ I've seen Vrain,” said he; “the old man is as
mad as a March hare, and as silly as a child. He's in
his dotage, and could not possibly carry out such a plan.
But we can easily learn the truth.”
“ From whom?” asked Lucian.
“Ah, Mr. Denzil, you are not so clever as you think


246
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
sure.
yourself,” scoffed Link. “Why, from Mrs. Clear to be
She visited at Jersey Street and saw Wrent, and
as Vrain was then with her in the character of her
husband, she'll be able to tell us if they are two men or
one person.”
" You are right, Link. I never thought of that."
“He! He! then I can still teach you something,"
replied Link in high good humour at having for once
scored off the too-clever barrister, and forthwith went off
to see Mrs. Clear.
How his interview with that lady sped, or what she
told him, he refused to reveal to Lucian; but its result
was that a cipher appeared in the agony column of the
Daily Telegraph calling upon Wrent to meet her in the
Silent House in Pimlico, under the penalty of her telling
the police all she knew if he did not come. In the same
issue of the paper in which this message appeared there
was a paragraph stating that Mrs. Vrain had been arrested
at Dover.


CHAPTER XXX
WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP?
HOWEVER closely one may study the fair sex, there is no
understanding them in the least. No one can say how
a woman will act in a given situation ; for feminine
actions are based less on logical foundations than on the
emotion of the moment.
Diana had never liked Lydia; when the American girl
became her step-mother she hated her, and not only said
as much but showed in her every action that she believed
what she said. She declared that she would be glad to
see Lydia deprived of her money and put into jail! The
punishment would be no more than she deserved.
Yet when these things came to pass; when by the
discovery that Vrain yet lived Lydia lost her liberty;
and when, as connected with the conspiracy, she was
arrested on a criminal warrant and put into prison,
Diana was the only friend she had. Miss Vrain declared
that her step-mother was innocent, visited her in prison,
and engaged a lawyer to defend her. Lucian could not
forbear pointing out the discrepancy between Diana's
past sentiments and her present actions; but Miss Vrain
was quite ready with an excuse.
“I am only doing my duty," she said. “In herself I
(247)


248
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
like Lydia as little as I ever did, but I think we have
suspected her wrongly in being connected with this con-
spiracy, so I wish to help her if possible. And after all,"
added Diana, "she is my father's wife," as if that fact
extenuated all.
“He has reason to know it,” replied Lucian bitterly.
“ If it had not been for Lydia, your father would not
have left his home for a lunatic asylum, nor would Clear
have been murdered.”
"I quite agree with you, Lucian; but some good has
come out of this evil, for if things had not been as they
are, you and I would never have met.”
“Egad, that is true," said Lucian, kissing her, “it's an
ill wind that blows nobody any good.”
So Diana played the part of a good Samaritan towards
her step-mother, and helped her to bear the evil of being
thrust into prison. Lydia wrote to her father in Paris,
but received no reply, and therefore was without a friend
in the world save Diana. Later on she was admitted
out on bail, and Diana took her to the hotel in
Kensington, there to wait for the arrival of Mr. Clyne.
His absence and silence were both unaccountable.
I hope nothing is wrong with poppa,” wept Lydia.
“ As a rule he is always smart in replying; and if he has
seen about Ercole's death and my imprisonment in the
papers, I'm sure he will be over soon."
While she was thus waiting for her father, and Link
in every way was seeking evidence against her, Mrs. Clear
received an answer to her message. In the same column
of the Daily Telegraph, and in the same cipher, there
appeared a message from Wrent that he would meet
Mrs. Clear in No. 13 Geneva Square.
Link was delighted when Mrs. Clear showed him this,


252
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
unostentatious manner, and now came to escort the
barrister across.
Lucian put on his hat at once, and the two walked out
into the dark night, for dark it was with no moon,
few stars, and a great many clouds. A most satisfactory
night for their purpose.
“ All the better,” said Link, casting a look round the
deserted square, “all the better for our little game; I
wish to secure this fellow as quietly as possible. Here's
the door open-in with you, Mr. Denzil.”
According to instructions a policeman had waited be-
hind the closed door, and at the one sharp knock of his
superior opened it at once so that the two slipped in as
speedily as possible. Link had a dark lantern which he
used carefully, so that no light could be seen from the
window looking on to the square ; and with his three
companions he went into the back room which had for-
merly been used by Clear as a sleeping apartment. Here
the two policemen stationed themselves in one corner :
and Link with Lucian waited near the door leading into
the sitting-room, so as to be ready for Mrs. Clear.
All was so dark and lonely and silent that Lucian's
nerves became over-strained and it was as much as he
could do to prevent himself from trembling violently. In
a whisper he conversed with Link.
“Have you heard anything of that girl Rhoda ?” he
asked.
“We have traced her to Berkshire," whispered Link.
“She went back to her gipsy kinsfolk, you know. I
daresay we'll manage to lay hands on her sooner or later."
“She is an accomplice of Wrent's, I believe.”
“So do I, and I hope to make him confess as much
to-night. Hush !"


254
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“I am
near the window. They saw her pass and repass the
square of glass, when unexpectedly she paused rigid and
silent.
A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, and
pacing cat-like along the passage.
Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as the steps
of the murderer sounded nearer and clearer. They
paused at the door, and then moved towards the window
where Mrs. Clear was standing.
“ Is that you ? ” said a low voice which came weirdly
out of the darkness.
“Yes, I have been waiting for the last half-hour, Mr.
Wrent,” replied the woman in nervous tones.
glad you have come.”
“I am glad also,” said the voice harshly, “as I wish
to know why you propose to betray me.'
“ Because you won't pay me the money,” said Mrs.
Clear boldly. “ And if you don't give it to me this very
night I'll go straight and tell the police all about my
husband.”
“ I'll kill you first,” cried the man with a snarl, and
made a dash at the woman. With a cry for help she
eluded him and sprang towards the bedroom door for
protection. The next moment the four watchers were in
the room wrestling with Wrent. When he felt the grip
of their hands and knew that he was betrayed, he cried
out savagely and fought with the strength of two men.
However he could do little against his four adversaries,
and worn out with the struggle collapsed suddenly on to
the dusty floor with a motion of despair.
" Lost ! lost!” he muttered. “ All lost.”
Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of the
dark lantern, and turned the light on to the face of the


WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP?
255
prisoner. Out of the darkness started a pale face with
white hair and long white beard. Lucian uttered a cry.
“Mr. Vrain,” he said shrinking back, “ Mr. Vrain ! ”
“Look again,” said Link, passing his hand rapidly
over the face and head of the prostrate man. Denzil did
look and uttered a second cry more startling than the
first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all gone,
and he recognised at once who Wrent was.
“Jabez Clyne ! Jabez Clyne," he exclaimed in
astonishment.
“ Yes !" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, con-
spirator and assassin."


CHAPTER XXXI
A STRANGE CONFESSION
“I, JABEZ CLYNE, write this confession in my prison cell
of my own free will, and without coercion from any one;
partly because I know that the evidence concerning my
share in the Vrain conspiracy is strong against me, and
partly because I wish to exonerate my daughter Lydia.
“She is absolutely innocent of all knowledge con-
cerning the feigned death of her husband and his actual
existence in a private lunatic asylum ; and on the strength
of this confession of mine—which will fix the guilt of the
matter on the right persons—I demand that she shall be
set free. It is not fair that she should suffer, for I and
Ferruci planned and carried out the whole conspiracy.
Well, Ferruci has punished himself, and soon the law
will punish me, so it is only justice that Lydia should
be discharged from all blame. On this understanding I
set out the whole story of the affair-how it was thought
of, how it was contrived, and how it was carried out.
Now that Count Ferruci is dead, this confession can
harm no one but myself, and may be the means of setting
Lydia free. So here I begin my recital.
'I was always an unlucky man, and the end of my
life
proves to be as unfortunate as the beginning. I was born
(256)


258
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
married the daughter of an hotel-keeper, and for the time
was happy.
". Then the Civil War broke out and I was ruined. My
wife died leaving me with one child, whom I called Lydia
after her, but that child died also, and I was left alone.
After the war I prospered again for a time, and married a
woman with money. She also died and left a daughter,
and this child I again called Lydia in memory of my first
wife, who was the only woman I ever truly loved. I
placed little Lydia in a convent for education, and devoted
my second wife's money to that purpose; then I started
out for the fifth or sixth time to make my fortune. Need-
less to say I did not make it.
“I pass over a long period of distress and prosperity,
hopes and fears. One day I was rich, the next poor ;
and Fate-or whatever malignant deity looked after my
poor affairs—knocked me about most cruelly, tossed me
up, threw me down, and at the end of a score of years
left me comparatively prosperous with an income, in
English money, of £500 a year. With this I returned
to Washington to seek Lydia, and found her grown up
into a beautiful and clever girl. Her beauty gave me
the idea that I might marry her well in Europe as an
American heiress. So for Europe we started, and after
many years of travel about the Continent we settled down
in the Pension Donizetti in Florence. There Lydia was
admired for her beauty and wit, and courted for her money!
but save for my ten pounds a week, which we eked out
in the most frugal manner, we had not a penny between
us.
" It was in Florence that we met with Vrain and his
daughter, who came to stay at the Pension. He was a
quiet, harmless old gentleman, a trifle weak in the head,


A STRANGE CONFESSION
259
which his daughter said came from over-study, but which
I discovered afterwards was due to habitual indulgence in
morphia and other drugs. His daughter watched him
closely, and—not having a will of his own by reason of
his weak brain-he submitted passively to her guidance.
I heard by a side-wind that Vrain was rich, and had a
splendid mansion in the country; so I hinted to Lydia
that as it seemed difficult to get her a young husband, it
would be better for her to marry a rich old one. At that
time Lydia was in love with, and almost engaged to,
Count Ercole Ferruci, a penniless Italian nobleman,
who courted my pretty girl less for her beauty than for
her supposed wealth. When I suggested that Lydia
should marry Vrain, she refused at first to entertain the
idea; but afterwards, seeing that the man was old and
weak, she thought it would be a good thing as his wife
to inherit his money, and then as his widow to marry
Ferruci. I think also that the pointed dislike which
Diana Vrain manifested for us both-although I am
bound to say she hated Lydia more than she did me-
had a great deal to do with my daughter marrying Vrain.
However, the end of it was that Lydia broke off her en-
gagement with Ferruci—and very mad he was at losing
her—and married Mark Vrain in Florence.
“After the marriage the old man, who at that time
was quite infatuated with Lydia, made a will leaving her
his assurance money of £20,000, but the house near Bath
and the land he left to Diana. I am bound to say that
Lydia behaved very well in this matter, as she could
have had all the money and land, but she was content with
the assurance money, and did not rob Diana Vrain of her
birthright. Yet Diana hated her, and still hates her;
but I ask any one who reads this confession if
my
dear


A STRANGE CONFESSION
261
scenes, in which the old man behaved like the lunatic he
was, he left the house, and not one of us knew where he
went to. That was the last Lydia saw of her husband.
“ After that trouble I insisted that Count Ferruci
should leave the house ; also Miss Tyler. They both did,
but came back at times to pay Lydia a visit. We tried
to find Vrain, but could not, as he had vanished altogether.
Ferruci, I saw, was in love with Lydia, and she with him,
but neither the one nor the other hinted at a future marriage
should Vrain die. I do not say that Lydia was a fond
wife to Vrain, but he treated her so badly that he could
not expect her to be; and I daresay I am the one to
blame all through, as I made Lydia marry Vrain when
she loved Ferruci. But I did it all for the best, so as to
get money for
my dear girl; and if it has turned out for
the worst my inordinate affection for my child is to blame.
All I have done has been for Lydia's sake; all Ferruci
did was for Lydia's sake, as he truly loved her; but I
swear by all that I hold most holy that Lydia knew not
how either of us was working to secure her happiness.
Well, Ferruci is dead, and I am in jail, so we have paid
in full for our wickedness.
“I had no idea of getting rid of Vrain, until one day
Ferruci took me aside and told me that he had found
Vrain at Salisbury. He stated that the man was still taking
morphia, but in spite of his excesses had so strong a
constitution that it appeared he would live for many years.
The Count then said that he loved Lydia dearer than life
and wished to marry her if Vrain could be got out of the
way. I cried out against murder being done, as I never
entertained such an idea for a moment; but Ferruci de-
nied that he wished to harm the man. He wanted him
put away in a lunatic asylum, and when I asked him how


262
THE SILENT HOUSE ÎN PIMLICO
even then he could marry Lydia, he suggested his scheme
of substituting a sickly and dying man for Vrain. The
scheme—which was entirely invented by the Count—was
as follows
“ Ferruci said that in a minor London theatre he had
seen an actor, called Clear, who was wonderfully like
Vrain, save that he had no scar on the cheek, and had a
moustache whereas Vrain was always clean shaved. He
had made the acquaintance of the actor-Michael Clear
was his full name—and of his wife. They proved to be
hard up and mercenary, so Ferruci had no difficulty in
gaining over both for his purpose. For a certain sum
of money (which was to be paid to Mrs. Clear when her
husband was dead, and the Count, married to Lydia, was
possessed of the assurance money) Clear agreed to shave
off his moustache and personate Vrain. Ferruci, who
was something of a chemist, created by means of some
acid a scar on Clear's cheek like that on Vrain's; so that
he resembled my son-in-law in every way save that he
had lost one little finger.
“ Ferruci wanted me to join him in the conspiracy so
that I could watch Clear impersonating Vrain, while he
himself kept his eye on the real Vrain, who was to be
received into Mrs. Clear's house at Bayswater and passed
off as her husband. All Mrs. Clear wanted was the
money, as—long since wearied of her drunken husband
—she did not care if he lived or died. Clear on his part,
knowing that he could not live long, was quite willing to
play the part of Vrain on condition that he had plenty to
eat and drink and could live in idleness and luxury. His
wishes in this direction cost us a pretty penny, as he
bought everything of the best.
“ To this plot I refused to consent until I saw how


CHAPTER XXXII
THE CONFESSION (Continued)
“In Geneva Square, Pimlico, I found the house I wanted.
It was No. 13, and was said to be haunted, as cries had
been heard in it at night, and lights had been seen flitting
from window to window when no one was in the house.
I looked at it without entering or calling on the landlord,
and then I went into Jersey Street to see the back.
The house in the same section with it, was kept by a
Mrs. Bensusan, who took in lodgers. Her rooms were
vacant, and as it suited me very well that I should be a
neighbour to Clear, I took the rooms. They proved—as
I shall explain—better for our purpose than I was aware
of.
" When I told Ferruci of my discovery, he gave
Clear
money, and made him hire the house and furnish two
rooms for himself. I supplied the money.
I supplied the money. In this way
Clear, calling himself Berwin, which was the name of
Vrain's house in the country, came to live in Pimlico.
We also removed the real Vrain to Mrs. Clear's at Bays-
water; and he passed as her husband.
So weak were
his brains, and so cowed was his spirit, that there was no
difficulty in keeping him in the house; and the neighbours
were told merely that Clear was ill.
(264)


THE CONFESSION (CONTINUED)
265
“For my part, I took up my abode in Jersey Street
under the name of Wrent; and met Clear outside on
occasions when it was necessary for me to see him ; but
I never entered the house for obvious reasons.
“I was constantly afraid lest Clear in his drunken fits
—for he was always more or less drunk-should reveal
our secret, and I took as my bedroom an apartment in
Mrs. Bensusan's out of the window of which I could
overlook the back of No. 13. One night when I was
watching, I saw a dark figure glide into Mrs. Bensusan's
yard and climb over the fence, only to disappear. I
was terribly alarmed, and wondering what was wrong,
I put on my clothes and hurried downstairs into the
yard. Also I climbed over the fence into the yard of No.
13. Here I could not see where the figure had dis-
appeared to, as the doors and windows at the back of
the house were all locked. I could not conjecture who
the woman was—for it was a woman I saw—who had
entered, or why she had done so, or in what way she had
gained admission.
“While I was thus thinking I saw the woman again.
She apparently rose out of the earth, and after closing
what appeared to be a trap-door, she made for the fence.
I stopped her before she got there, and found to my
surprise that she was a red-headed servant of Mrs. Ben-
susan's—a kind of gipsy, very clever and—I think-
with much evil in her. She was alarmed at being
discovered, and begged me not to tell on her.
own sake I promised not to do so, but made her explain
how she got into the house and why she entered it.
Then she told me an extraordinary tale.
“For some years, she said, she had been with Mrs.
Bensusan, who had taken her from the gipsies to civilise
For my


266
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
her, and hating the restraint of civilised life, she had
been in the habit of roaming about at night. Knowing
that the house at the back was unoccupied, this Rhoda-
for that is her name-climbed over the fence and tried to
get into it, but found the doors and windows bolted and
barred.
“ Then one night she saw a kind of grated window
amid the grass, and as this proved not to be bolted, she
pulled it open. Taking a candle with her, she went on a
voyage of discovery; and dropped through this hole some
distance into a disused cellar. Only a cat could have got
in safely; for the height was considerable, and indeed,
Rhoda did not risk that mode of entrance again; for
finding a ladder in the cellar which— I presume—had been
used to get at the higher bins of wine, she placed this
against the aperture, and thus was enabled to ascend and
descend without difficulty. Frequently by this means she
entered the empty house, and went from room to room
with her candle, singing gipsy songs as she wandered.
So here I had found the ghost of No. 13; although I don't
suppose this impish gipsy girl knew as much. She
haunted the house just to amuse herself, when fat Mrs.
Bensusan thought she was safe in bed.
“I asked Rhoda why she had entered the house on
that particular night when I had caught her. She con-
fessed that she had seen some articles of silver in Clear's
rooms which she wished to steal; but on this occasion
he had locked the door--a thing which he did not always
do in his drunken humours—and so Rhoda was returning
disappointed. After this confession I made her go back
to her own house; and promised to keep her secret. I
also told her that if she held her tongue I would give her
a present. For this purpose I made Ferruci buy me a


268
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
“ For some months matters went on in this way.
Clear remained in the Silent House drinking himself to
death; Mrs. Clear looked after Vrain in her Bayswater
house; and I, in my old man disguise, remained in Jersey
Street, although at times I left there and went to see my
daughter. All this time Lydia had no idea of what we
were preparing. Then I began to grow wearied of the
position, for Clear proved tougher than we anticipated,
and showed no signs of dying. In despair, I thought I
would give him the means to kill himself.
“ Mind I did not wish to murder him myself; but
the man, when in his drinking fits, thought he was
attacked by enemies; and, when in a melancholic frame
of mind, on recovery would frequently hint at suicide. I
therefore thought that if a weapon were left within his
reach he might kill himself. I don't defend my conduct
in this case ; but surely this drunken scoundrel was
better dead than alive. In choosing a weapon I wished
to select one that would implicate Ferruci rather than
myself, in case there was any trouble over the matter; so
I chose for my purpose a stiletto which hung by a parti-
coloured ribbon on the walls of the library at Berwin
Manor. I fancied that the stiletto, having been bought
in Florence, and Ferruci coming from Florence, he, if
anyone-should any of these facts come to light--would
be credited with giving it to Clear.
6 I took this stiletto from Berwin Manor some time
before Christmas, and, bringing it up to town, I left it—on
the day before Christmas-on the table in Clear's sitting-
That was at nine o'clock in the night, and that
was when I last saw him alive. Who killed him I know
no more than anyone else.
“On Christmas Eve I was ill and wrote to Lydia to
room,


THE CONFESSION (CONTINUED)
269
come up.
She met me at the Pegall's, but as I felt ill
I left there at six o'clock and Lydia stayed with the
family all night. At seven o'clock Mrs. Clear came to
me with Ferruci and brought back the cloak which I gave
afterwards to Rhoda. She wanted to see her husband
again but I refused to let her risk the visit. Ferruci
came to tell me that he was arranging to place Vrain-
who was becoming too violent to be restrained—in the
private asylum of Dr. Jorce, at Hampstead. Mrs. Clear
was to go with him and we conversed about the matter.
“Ferruci went away first, as he desired to see Clear,
and for that purpose waited about until it was darker, and
went into the back yard shortly after eight o'clock. There
he was seen by Rhoda as he was about to climb the fence,
and, not knowing it was the girl, he took fright and ran
out of the yard into Jersey Street. Here he found Mrs.
Clear, who had left me and was waiting for him ; and the
pair went off to see Dr. Jorce at Hampstead. I believe
they remained there all night.
“Left alone, I climbed over the fence about nine o'clock
and saw Clear. He was celebrating Christmas Eve by
drinking heavily, and I was unable to bring him to reason.
I therefore left the stiletto which I had brought with me
on the table, and returned to my house in Jersey Street.
I never saw him alive again. I went to bed and slept all
night, so I was aware of nothing in connection with the
death until late on Christmas Day. Then Mrs. Ben-
susan was told by Miss Greeb (the landlady of Denzil)
that the tenant of No. 13 had been murdered. I fancied
that he had killed himself, in a fit of melancholia, with
the stiletto I had left on his table. But I did not dare to
go near the house to find this out.
6. Afterwards I learned that the doctor who examined


270
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
I
the body was of opinion that Clear had been murdered ;
and being afraid about the police taking up the case, I
paid Mrs. Bensusan a week's rent and left her house two
days after Christmas. I returned to Berwin Manor, and
shortly afterwards Ferruci joined me there, as he had
successfully incarcerated Vrain in the asylum under the
name of Michael Clear.
“When the advertisement came out it was I who hinted
to Lydia that the dead man-seeing that he was called
Berwin-might be her husband. We went up to town;
Lydia identified the body of Clear as her husband in all
innocence-for after death the man looked more like
Vrain than ever; and in due time the assurance money
was obtained.
“I do not think there is anything more to tell, save
that I did not know that Mrs. Clear had betrayed me.
could not pay her the money, as I could not get it from
Lydia. I told Lydia I was going to Paris, but in reality
I was hunting for Rhoda who had run away from Jersey
Street. I fancied she might betray us and wished to
make things safe with her. Before I found her, how-
ever, I saw in the papers that Ferruci had committed
suicide ; also that Lydia—who had gone to Dover to meet
me, thinking I was returning from Paris-had been
arrested. Then I saw Mrs. Clear's advertisement saying
she would betray me if I did not pay the money.
sented to meet her in order to implore her silence, and
so fell into the clutches of the law.
"I may state that I did not kill Clear, as I never saw
him after nine o'clock, and then he was alive. In spite of
what the doctor said, I am still inclined to think he killed
himself. Now I have made a clean breast of it-I am
willing to be punished; but I hope Lydia will be set free,
I con-


THE CONFESSION (CONTINUED)
271
for whosoever is guilty, she is innocent. I have been an
unlucky man, and I remain one at this moment when I
sign myself for the last time,
“Jabez Clyne.”
Needless to say both Link and Denzil were greatly
surprised at this confession, which revealed all things
save the one they wished to know.
“What do you think of this idea of suicide ? ” asked
Lucian.
“ It is quite out of the question," replied the detective
decidedly, “ the doctor who examined the body said that
it was impossible the man could have committed suicide.
The position of the wound shows that; also the power
of the stroke; no man could drive a stiletto so dexterously
and strongly into his heart. Also the room was in
confusion, which points to a struggle; and the stiletto is
missing. It was not suicide but murder ; and I believe
either Clyne or Ferruci killed the man.”
" But Ferruci was not
-"
“He was not there after ten,” interrupted Link, “but
he was there about eight. I daresay when Rhoda saw
him he was coming back after having committed the
deed, and Clyne says the stiletto was not there at the
time just to screen him.”
“ It is of little use to screen the dead," said Lucian.
“I think only one person can tell the truth about this
murder; and that is Rhoda.”
“ I'm looking for her, Mr. Denzil.”
This was easy saying but harder doing; for weeks
passed away; and, in spite of all the efforts of the police,
Rhoda could not be found. Then one morning the


272
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
detective, much excited, burst into Lucian's rooms waving
a paper over his head.
“ A confession,” he cried, “ another confession."
“Of whom ? ” asked Lucian surprised.
“Of Rhoda!” replied Link excitedly. “She has con-
fessed. It was Rhoda who killed Michael Clear."


CHAPTER XXXIII
WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY
Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death,
this was the last which Lucian expected to hear. He
stood staring at the excited face of the detective in wide-
eyed surprise, and for the moment could not find his voice.
“ It is true, I tell you,” cried Link, sitting down and
smoothing out the paper which he carried. “ Rhoda, and
none other, killed the man."
“ Are you sure, Link ?"
“Of course I am. This," flourishing the paper, “is
her dying confession."
“ Her dying confession ?" repeated the barrister blankly;
" is she dead also ?”
“Yes! It is a long story, Mr. Denzil. Sit down and
I'll tell it to you; as you have had so much to do with
the beginning of the case, it is only fair that you should
know the end ; and a strange end it is."
Without a word Lucian sat down, feeling quite confused;
for in no way could he guess how Clear had come by his
death at the hands of Rhoda. He had suspected Lydia
as guilty of the crime; he had credited Ferruci with its
commission, and he had been certain of the guilt of Clyne,
alias Wrent; but to discover that the red-headed servant
(273)
18


WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY
275
"Well!” said Link, clearing his throat as a preliminary
to his narrative, “it seems that Mrs. Bensusan in a fit
of philanthropy picked up this wretched girl in the
country. She belonged to some gipsies, but as her
parents were dead, and the child a burden, the tribe were
glad to get rid of her. Rhoda Stanley--that is her full
name—was taken to London by Mrs. Bensusan, who
tried to civilise her."
“I don't think she succeeded very well, Link. Rhoda,
with her cunning ways, and roaming about at night, was
always a savage at heart. In spite of what Clyne says
in his confession I believe she took a delight in turning
No. 13 into a haunted house with her shrieking and her
flitting candles. How she must have enjoyed herself
when she heard the talk about the ghosts.”
«« I've no doubt she did, Mr. Denzil; but even those
delights wearied her, and she longed to get back to the
free gipsy life. When she found--through you, sir-
that the police wanted to know too much about Clear's
death, she left Mrs. Bensusan in the lurch, and tramped
off down to the New Forest, where she picked up again
with her tribe.”
“ How did her mistress take her desertion ? "
Very much to heart, as she had treated the young
savage very kindly, and ought to have received more
gratitude. Perhaps when she hears how her adopted
child wandered about at night, and ended by killing
Clear, she will be glad she is dead and buried. Yet, I
don't know. Women are wonderfully soft-hearted, and
certainly Rhoda is thought no end of, by that fat
woman.”
“Well! well !” said Lucian, impatient of this digres-
sion, so Rhoda went back to her tribe ? ”


276
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
· Yes, sir; and as she was sharp, clever, and, moreover,
came with some money which she had stolen from Mrs.
Bensusan--for she added theft to ingratitude—she was
received with open arms. With her gipsy cousins she
went about in the true gipsy style; but not hardened to
the outdoor life in wet weather she fell ill.”
“ Civilisation made her delicate, I suppose," said
Denzil grimly.
Exactly; she was not fit for the tent life after having
lived for so long under a comfortable roof. She fell ill
with inflammation of the lungs, and in a wonderfully
short space of time, she died.”
“When did she confess her crime?”
“ I'm coming to that, sir. When she was dying she
sent two gipsies to the nearest magistrate—who happened
to be the vicar of the parish in which the tribe were then
encamped-and asked him to see her on a matter of life
and death. The vicar came at once, and when he became
aware that Rhoda was the girl wanted in the Vrain case
---for he had read all about her in the papers—he became
very interested.
He took down the confession of the
wretched girl ; had it signed by two witnesses and Rhoda
herself, and sent it up to Scotland Yard."
" And this confession
“ Here it is,” said Link, pointing to the manuscript on
the table, “but it is too long to read, so I shall just tell
you briefly what Rhoda confessed, and how she com-
mitted the crime."
" Go on!
I am most anxious to hear, Link."
Well, Mr. Denzil, you know that Rhoda was in the
habit of visiting No. 13 by night and amusing herself
by wandering about the empty rooms, although I don't
know what pleasure she found in doing so. It seems


WHAT RHODA HAD TO SAY
277
that when Clear became tenant of the house Rhoda was
very angry, as his presence interfered with her midnight
capers. However, on seeing his rooms—for Clear found
her one night, and took her in to show them to her-she
was filled with admiration, and with true gipsy instinct
wanted to steal some of the ornaments. She tried to
pocket a silver paper-knife on that very night Clear was
so hospitable to her, but she was not sharp enough, and
the man saw the theft. In a rage at her dishonesty he
turned her out of the room, and swore that he would
thrash her if she came into his presence again.”
“ Did the threat keep Rhoda away ? ”
“ Not it; I am sure you saw enough of that wild cat
to know nothing would frighten her. She certainly did
not thrust herself personally on Clear; but whenever
his back was turned she took to stealing things out of his
room, when he was foolish enough to leave the door open.
Clear was much enraged and complained to Clyne-
known to Rhoda as Wrent—who in his turn read the girl
a sharp lecture.
“But having shown Clyne the cellar way into the
house, Miss Rhoda knew too much, and laughed in
Clyne's face. He did not dare to make her thefts public,
or complain to Mrs. Bensusan, lest Rhoda should tell
of the connection between him and the tenant of the
Silent House, who passed under the name of Berwin.
Therefore he told Clear to keep his sitting-room door
locked.”
"A wise precaution with that imp about," said Lucian.
" I hope Clear was sensible enough to adopt it."
“ Yes and no ! When he was sober he locked the
door ; when drunk he left it open, and Rhoda looted at
will. And now comes the more important part of the


278
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
;
)
confession. You remember that Clyne left the stiletto
from Berwin Manor on Clear's table ?"
“ Yes! with the amiable intention that the poor
devil
should kill himself. He left it on Christmas Eve too, the
ruffian ; a pleasant time for a man to commit suicide.”
“Of course the intention was horrible,” said Mr. Link
gravely. “Some people might think such an act incredible.
But I have seen so much of the worst side of human
nature that I am not surprised. Clyne was too cowardly
to kill the man himself, so he thought to make Clear his
own executioner by leaving the stiletto in his way. Well,
sir, the weapon proved to be useful in the way it was in-
tended by Clyne; for Clear was killed with that very
weapon."
“ And by Rhoda !” said Lucian nodding. “I see!
How did she get hold of it?”
“By accident. When Wrent-I mean Clyne—and Mrs.
Bensusan went to bed on Christmas Eve, Rhoda thought
she would have some of her devil dances in the haunted
house; so she slipped out of bed and into the yard, and
dropped down into the cellar whence she went up to
Clear's rooms.”
“ Was Clear in bed ?
"No; but he was in his bedroom and, according to
Rhoda, furiously drunk. You know that Clyne said the
man had been drinking all day. On this night he had
left his sitting-room door open, and the lamp burning.
On the table was the silver-handled stiletto with the
ribbon; and when Rhoda peered into the room to see
what she could pick up, she thought she would like this
pretty toy. She stole forward softly and took the stiletto,
but before she could get back to the door, Clear, who had
been watching her, reeled out and rushed at her.”


280
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
innocent; so instead of hanging he will only be im-
prisoned for his share in the conspiracy."
“He may escape that way,” said Lucian drily, “but,
morally speaking, I regard him as more guilty than
Rhoda."


282
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
health. But the hope was vain, for by his over-indul-
gence in morphia, his worrying and wandering and irre-
gular mode of life, Vrain had completely shattered his
health. He lapsed into a state of second childhood, and,
being deprived of the drugs which formerly had excited
him to a state of frenzy, sank into a pitiable condition.
For days he would remain without speaking to any one,
and even ceased to take a pleasure in his books. Finally
his limbs became paralysed, and so he spent the last few
months of his wretched life in a bath-chair being wheeled
round the garden.
Still his constitution was so strong that he lived for
quite twelve months after his return to his home, and
died unexpectedly in his sleep. Diana was not sorry
when he passed so easily away, for death was a merciful
release of his tortured soul from his worn-out body. So
Mark Vrain died and was buried, and after the funeral
Diana went abroad with Miss Priscilla Barbar for a com-
panion.
In the meantime, Lucian stayed in grimy, smoky
London, and worked hard at his profession.
He was
beginning to be known, and in time actually received a
brief or two, with which he did his best in court. Still he
was far from being the successful pleader he hoped to be,
for law, of all professions, is one which demands time
and industry for the attainment of any degree of excel-
lence. It is rarely that a young lawyer can go to sleep
and wake to find himself famous; he must crawl rather
than run. With diligence and punctuality, and observance
of every chance, in time the wished-for goal is reached,
although that goal, in nine cases out of ten, is a very
moderate distance off. Lucian did not sigh for a judge-
ship, or for a seat on the Woolsack; he was content to be


286
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
such women ever are,” said Diana contemptuously, “ yet
her happiness comes out of much evil. If she had not
married my father, her own would not now be in prison,
nor would Count Ferruci and Rhoda be dead.”
“ Ferruci perhaps might still be alive and her husband,”
assented Lucian, “ but I have my doubts about Rhoda.
She was a wicked, precocious little imp that girl, and
sooner or later would have come to a bad end. The death
of Clear was due to an accident though, I admit. But
Rhoda has still one person who laments over her, for,
although Mrs. Bensusan knows the truth, she always
thinks of that red-haired minx as a kind of martyr, who
was led into wicked ways by Clyne, alias Wrent.”
“I am sure Mrs. Clear doesn't think so !”
“ Mrs. Clear has got quite enough to think about in
remembering how narrowly she escaped imprisonment
for her share in that shameful conspiracy. If she had
not turned Queen's evidence, she would have been
punished as Clyne was; as it is, she just escaped by
an accident. Still, if it had not been for her, we should
never have discovered the truth. I would never have
suspected Clyne, who was always so meek and mild.
Even that visit he paid to me in order to lament over
his daughter's probable marriage to Ferruci was a trick
to find out how much I knew."
“ Don't you think he hated Ferruci ? "
“ No, I am sure he did not; he acted a part to find
out what I was doing. If Mrs. Clear had not betrayed
him, we should never have discovered the conspiracy.”
“ And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's
death would never have been solved,” said Diana, “ al-
though she only confessed at the eleventh hour and when
she was dying."


THE END OF IT ALL
287
“ I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved
in so unexpected a way,” said Lucian laughing. “He
never forgave my finding out so much without his aid.
He ascribes the ending of the whole matter to chance ;
and I daresay he is right."
“ H'm ! said Mrs. Denzil, who had no great love for
the detective," he certainly left everything he could to
chance. Twice he gave up the case.”
“ And twice I gave it up,” said Denzil, “ if it had not
been for you, dear, I should never have gone on with
what seemed to be a hopeless task. But when I first
met you, you induced me to continue the search for the
culprit, and again when by the evidence of the missing
finger you did not believe
your
father
was dead.”
“Well, you worked; I worked ; Link worked," said
Diana philosophically; "and we all three did our best to
discover the truth."
Only to let chance discover it in the long run.”
Diana laughed and nodded, but did not contradict her
husband. Well, my dear,” she said, “ I think we have
discussed the subject pretty freely, but there is one thing
I should like to know. What about the Silent House in
Pimlico ?”
“Oh, Miss Greeb told me the other day that Peacock
is going to pull it down. You know just before we were
married I took leave of Miss Greeb, with whom I lodged
for a long time. Well, she gave me a piece of news.
She is going to be married also, and to whom do you
think?”
"I don't know," said Diana looking interested, as
women always do in marriage news.
“ To Peacock, who owns nearly all the property in and
about Geneva Square. It will be a splendid match for


288
THE SILENT HOUSE IN PIMLICO
her, and Mrs. Peacock will be much richer than you or I,
Diana."
“ But not happier, my dear. I am glad she is to be
married, as she seemed a nice woman and made you very
comfortable. But why is the Silent House to be pulled
down?”
“ Because no one will live in it."
6. But it is not haunted now. You know it was dis-
covered that Rhoda was the ghost, and the ghost, as
Miss Greeb suggested, killed Clear."
“ It is haunted now by the ghost of Clear,” said Lucian
gravely. “At all events he was murdered there, and no
one cares to live in the house. I confess I shouldn't care
to live in it myself. So Peacock, finding the house un-
profitable, has determined to pull it down.”
“So there is an end to the Silent House of Pimlico,"
said Diana, rising and taking her husband's arm. “Come
inside, Lucian. It grows chilly."
“ Tho' winds be cold and nights be drear,
Yet love makes warm our hearts, my dear,”
>>
quoted Lucian as they went up to the house. « That is
not very good poetry, but it is a beautiful truth, my love."
Diana laughed and looked up proudly into the bright
face of her husband.
So they went inside, and found that Miss Priscilla had
made the tea, and were all very happy and very thankful
for their happiness. In this condition, which is suffi-
ciently pleasant, I think we may leave them.
ABERDEEN UNIVERSITY PRESS
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