A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET

Auckland Star, Volume XXVIII, Issue 297, 22 December 1897, Page 6

A LOST WITNESS, OR THE MYSTERY OF LEAH PAGET

BY LAWRENCE X. LYNCH,

Author of "Shadowed by Three, / Slender Cine," " Dangerous Ground, "Madeline Payne," "A Mountain Mystery" "The Diamond Coterie," " Romance of a JBomb Thrower," "Out of a Labyrinth.

CHAPTER LV. (Continued.) •Go on,' said Ferrars, like one growingl impatient. 'One day she said to me, "I have seen your La Belle Fabrice. 1 don t call her a beauty." Two days later she sent) ma word that La Belle Fabrice was to dine with heiyand that I must bring Talfourd without fail. You know the rest of that chapter. 'Yes' assented Ferrars. 'But there is a sequel. There was never any explanation of that episode —the sudden leaving of La Belle Fabrice and Max Talfourd. Hortense had already got herself unduly stirred uy, and she went off into one of her very worst "attacks" of nervousness. It was on that occasion that Doctor Orove was first called in. Two days later she commanded me to bring her the codicil. Of course I complied, and then Hortense cut out that paragraph -by which she gave a legacy to each of her two girl friends, and made Virginie so much the richer, so that myself, Virginie, and her mother were left as heirs. The names were held back even more carefully than before, and the new codicil given into my keeping. It contains, I suppose, her mother's name and place of abode, and was to be opened like the other after the reading of the will and acted upon at my discretion. That document I have in my possession.' 'Is there no more to tell'?' asked Ferrars-gravely. 'I would like to ask a few questions just here.' 'There is more to tell,' said Quinlan, •but the questions may come first.' For a moment Ferrars scanned his face narrowly, then he got up, as if sitting had become wearisome, and standing before the table looked across it and down into the face opposite him. 'Mr Quinlan, what is your precise object in being thus frank and circumstantial with me?' Instantly Frederick Quinlan, with head thrown back and eyes meeting his fairly, was on his feet. 'My object, Mr Ferrars,' he said with dignity, 'is to put you in possession of all the facts in the case as nearly as I can, or as they are known to me; to be perfectly frank on my own part, lest by any reticence of mine I cause you to err or to be at a loss.' , 'Yesterday,' went on Ferras, 'in what might have ben a moment of excitement, you said something like this: that you expected the finger of suspicion to point to you, and that the circumstantial evidence in the case would be against you. Was that your meaning?' 'That was my meaning.' 'Then, let me ask you, since you ■fox-see, even now, that you must put yourself on the defensive, since virtually you are —pardon me, but how do you hope to be benefited by sucTi an 'avowal as you are 'now making?' 'My avowal is intended to benefit yon, Mr Ferrars, asi well as myself. .Wait; hear me out. You have said that you are committed to justice and the defence of 121,6 innocent. Is that still you ground V 'Undoubtedly.' 'Then let me tell yz>u what I expect of you. First and best, I expect you to find the murderer. Failing in that, I expect you to vindicate the accused, be it myself or ■whomsoever it may. The horrible wrong so often done in the name of justice will not satisfy me in this case. If I am openly accused of the murder of Hortense Novalis and the woman Virginie, I expect you to prove me guilty or prove me innocent. No jury's 'disagreement' for me. No 'not proven.' Show that 1 did the deed, or that I did not do it, and could not have done it. Hang me or send me-forth vindicated. And if the shadow falls upon another, do for him or her the same good work. Do not send a human soul out into the world with a bloody doubt suspended for life over 3iis head, darkening all the future for ihim.'

For a moment their eyes met as if in a challenge. Then the detective put out his hand.

'What does that mean?' asked Quinlan for a moment holding back his own.

'It means that I am going to take you at your word,' said Ferrars, in a voice that was very solemn in its low, slow impressiveness. And then the two hands met. CHAPTER LVI. THE CODICIL. 'If that man is guilty,' thought Ferrars as he resumed his seat, 'he's an actor to wonder at,' Now,' he said, aloud, 'I'm going to cross-exam-ine you.' 'Go on,' said Quinlan indifferently. 'At the time when the lady made known her wish to meet Max Talifourd what were your relations with him?' 'Of the ordinary sort; acquaintainces of long standing, moving- in the same society, belonging to the same club. Not congenial spirits, by any means; and a little additional coldness had sprung up because of — because we both wanted to marry the same woman.'

'I comprehend,' said the detective. 'Will you give me your opinion of Max Talfourd, as a man?'

'There's only one word to say of Max Talfourd; his worst enemy couldn't change it. He's a fine fellow, with no 'bad habits.' Popular, and deservedly so. There's no use in crying down Max Talfourd.'

'What were your feelings when your friend Hortense asked you to present him?'

'Candidly, as I have said before, I "was a trifle amused at the caprices Fate seemed bent upon, and a little annoyed to see Talfourd Winning everywhere—to my loss. If I had loved Hortense it might have been ■worse. But I did not love her well enough, to be jealous. And I knew I

had no cause to fear Max in this ease. He's one of your loyal Quixotes, and I knew Hortense wouldn't weaken him.' 'When you were told that La Belle Fabrice was to be of the party, on the day of Talfourd's presentation, what.did you think was the motiveon the part of Hortense?' 'Simply this, at first: I took it as a bit of flortense's peculiar cunning. I had expressed my admiration for La Belle Fabrice a little too openly, unfortunately for myself, and Hortense, bent upon making a conquest of Talfourd, had hit upon the idea of using Fabrice as a means by which to divert me, and give her a chance of exercising her charms upon Max. She meant to pair us oft" to suit her purposes.' 'Do you know how she contrived to get La' Belle Fabrice to come?' 'No. Hortense had no lady visitors, and her isolation was a sore wound to her pride. To be snubbed by a woman was more than she could bear, and shewas not attractive to women. She did not speak of Fabrice, after that little contretemps, until she got it into her head that she must appear upon the stage with her. Of course, 1 knew that her pride was involved. But I gave the Coroner my real theory about that; all the opinion that I had or have.' 'All?' 'All, with this reservation. Looking back and pondering over these things, I had reasoned likethis: Jt was after the two visits, upon the same clay, of the old woman wehave spoken of, that Hortense first mentioned La Belle Fabrice. It was after the contretemps that she revoked her legacies and changed her codicil, cutting out her two former friends. Considering these things I asked myself, flight not this old woman be some former acquaintance of Hortense; some one who knew the two companions as well? Might not this old woman have seen Fabrice, and, afterwards, Hortense? May she not have told the one of the nearness oi' the other, and the rest have followed naturally? Hortense, not knowing or realising or caring for the difference in their social standing, writes a little informal | note which brings La Belle Fabrice here quite as informally. She comes, and has only to use her eyes to know the truth. Don't you see that it would bequite natural for La Delle Fabrice to seek to bury the whole thing in oblivion, by holding her tongue and asking Talfourd and myself to do likewise? It would be natural, to Hortense, to hold her peace from sheer chagrin at her defeat.'

'True,' assented Ferrars; 'it's a clever theory. And now, did Hortense succeed in meeting Max Talfourd?'

'Not to my knowledge.' 'Did you hear her allude to him again?'

'Yes, I, think she fully expected at first he would repeat his visit. Hortense as I have said, was vain, and perhaps a little obtuse, it did not occur to her that any man would ignore her in that cool way. After a time she became silent concerning Max Talfourd, and finally she changed her mind about him and only spoke of him to say some derisive thing. This proved to" me that the slight hurt her more thau she would own.' 'Did she ever write to him?' 'To Talfourd? No, I don't think so.' 'Could it be possible that Mr Talfourd and she met clandestinely?' '1 might think that of her, not of Talfourd.' - Ferrai's was silent a moment. He seemed not to see his way clearly. Then — 'Mr Quinlan,' he asked, suddenly, 'did you ever hear Hortense. Novalis utter the name of Leah Paget?' Across the fair face of young Quinlan came a quick wave of crimson. 'No,' he said, curtly. Again for a- moment, both were silent, each studying the .face of the other. Then Ferrars spoke. 'Has it ever struck you, as a coincidence merely, that Miss Leah Paget disappeared from her home on the night of that unlucky affair, that encounter of La Belle Fabrice, Talfourd and yourself at the door oi' Hortense Novalis' apartments?' 'No,' said Quinlan, with a start; and then he added, 'But 1 don't see the connection.' 'No?' said Ferrars, absently. 'Tonly asked you to see—the coincidence. Let us go back to the original subject. I want you to give me a more detailed account of your last interview with Hortense Novalis.'

'What I can tell you about that night and what followed it is. in my opinion, more important than all the evidence the Coroner will hear. I should not have let you go without hearing' it. You know, of course, all that was said before the Coroner?' 'Yes.' 'Well, it was true, but not all of the truth, up to a certain point. I told the Coroner that I came to the place at ten o'clock or thereabouts; that Hortense was in fine spirits, and that she turned me out soon, to try her new gowns. All was true; but when he asked meabout the maid I lied.' Ferrars looked grave but made no comment. 'I did not care to tell the Coroner's jury that I admitted myself with a pass key, but that is what I did. The first thing I saw was Virg-inie, asleep, and breathing heavily, coiled upon the divan, where she was found by you next morning. I left my key in the door, on the outer side, and went past her softly, upon the further .side of the room. There were two pass keys —the one I carried, and the one which always hung upon a gilded hook at the side of the door; on the inside, of course. As I have said, the rooms were one blaze of light, and Hortense was fairly glowing with excitement and full of her anticipated triumph. She had brought out her jewels, and they werescattered all about, and I could see that she was anxious to have me out of her way so that she might dress and admire herself. I asked her why she did not rouse Virginie, and she said she didn't want Virginie; she -was a nuisance sometimes. I would have aroused the woman, as I had sometimes done before, if Hortense had not said that. . Instead, 1 passed out as softly as possible. As I ! came'into the ante-room, and the curtains closed behind me, I fancied that the light was burning dimmer than when I first entered. But I dismissed the thought as only a fancy. My key was in the lock, and I remember distinctly that I locked the door carefully, thinking the while that Virginie slept too heavily to make a good outer sentinel. When I came in the morning, I found the door locked, apparently just as I had left it.'

'Oh,' broke in Ferrars, 'you said :

'Yes. I told you I had lied to the Coroner. When I went out that night I set the spring lock and noticed that the key was in its place \ipon the hook inside. When I came back the door was locked still, and I used my key to admit myself. The other key, when I found my senses enoug-h to look for it, was hanging in its place.

You see —' he groaned, and dropped his head upon his hand, 'you see now, perhaps, what it is that I have in my mind.'

The eyes of the detective were fixed upon one of the rugs near his feet, and he did not lift them as he said :

'It will be best, I think, now that you have gone thus far, to put into plain words all that you have not yet spoken.'

'Perhaps you are right.' Quinlan dropped his hand and lifted his head again. 'Sometimes things that have passed under one's observation, almost unnoticed, come back at a later time with startling distinctness, and with a new meaning. In this way some thoughts have come to me. Now, note this : I went to see Hortense, as I have said, at ten o'clock, or a little later. The door was fast locked, the maid asleep, Hortense, with all her rooms aglow with light, was hovering over her finery, full of excitement and eagerness. As the minutes passed—l can see it clearly now—her excitement increased, and she was eager to have me go. It was a relief to her, I am sure of it, when I finally went.' I can see her as she stood beneath the hangings at the door of her boudoir. I never saw her so handsome, so glowing' and triumphant. 1 laid it all, at the moment, to her enthusiastic expectations of the coming stage debut. She was like one intoxicated with her own charms, and with visions of coming conquests. Now , 1 think that she was so ready to have me go, and so full of eagerness, because she expected some one else.'

Suddenly Ferrars looked up. His thoughts flew instantly to the letter in his possession, the letter signed 'Hortense,' and written to Max Talfourd.

'If that was true,' went on Quinlan, hurriedly, 'if she did expect a visitor, say at midnight, ami if. that visitor came, while 1 was yet there, let its say, and while my key was in the door, what then ? He opens the door, while the maid sleeps on, lowers the light a little, stands close back against the wall at the foot of the couch where the maid lies, and where there is a little space between the wall and the divan's foot, and the hangings fall in heavy folds. One could easily stand or crouch there, unseen in the dim light of that room. If some one had entered so, and lurked there until I had passed, out, don't you see —' His voice ceased from sheer huskiness.

'I see,' said Ferrars. 'For your own sake, Mr Quinlan, say no more.'

'1 have said enough, have I not ?' said Quinla,n, with a mirthless laugh. 'At any rate, I have now told you all that I know—all. If I had said this to the Coroner, when he questioned me about the condition oi the door, what would have been the result ?'

'The result ?' Ferrars was .again upon his feet, but his tone was perfectly calm and not unkind. 'The result ? Mr Quinlau, you know as well as I, that, if you had told this— all that you have told me—to a Coroner's jury, you would now be a prisoner charged with double murder.' 'That is what 1 anticipated,' said Quinlan, gloomily. 'And after that, a long-drawn-out investigation, with all its attendant, notoriety.*

T hope,' said Ferrars, with a sudden change of manner, 'that we may be able to find an end to this tangled skein without so much delay as you seem to anticipate. Mr Quinlan, that codicil you told me of—is it in your possession ?' Without a word Quinlan went to the escritoire, unlocked a drawer and took from it a sealed envelope.

'Here, it is,' he said. 'And the seal unbroken ?

Quinlan took up a paper-knife and deftly broke the seal. 'Read it,' he said,'and held it out to the detective. Without a word Ferrars complied. 'Do you know what it is ?' he asked, then. 'No'; except as T have told you.' 'Listen,' said Ferrars. 'Instead of to my two old playmates, let one of the legacies meant for them go to my maid, Yirginie ; the other, to my mother, whose name is Mary Holly! of Soxith Brandon.' 'South Brandon,' echoed Quinlan. 'No state, then ? that's like her. South Brandon—Mary Holly. Well, Mary Holly of South Brandon will have a decent fortune, if she is still living.' Ferrars put the codicil down upon the escritoire. 'You mean by that — what ?' he asked, curtly. 'Simply that if the mother of Hortense Novalis can be found she will have her daughter's fortune." Ferrars laid' a hand upon his arm. 'That will sound very well,' he said, coldly, 'if you reserve it, and it is said—at the right time.' 'And when will that be ?' 'When the innocents are vindicated, the guilty punished, and the mother of Hortense Novalis found —alive.' (To be Continued.)