Great Porter Square: A Mystery. v. 3

  CHAPTER XLIV.

  CAGED.

  With those words the diary ended.

  In breathless silence, oblivious for the time of every surroundingcircumstance, Frederick Holdfast perused the record of his father'slast hours. What followed, after his father had secreted the papers,was clear to his mind. Mrs. Holdfast had kept her appointment at teno'clock, accompanied by her "lawyer," who could have been no other thanthe villain Pelham. By a hapless fatality, the house, No. 119 GreatPorter Square, had on that night but one inmate--the man who was neverto see another rising sun. The landlady and her lodgers were at awedding feast; the servant was enjoying the glories of the Alhambra,in the company of her sweetheart. Only Mr. Holdfast remained, and thushis murderers were enabled to enter and leave the house without beingobserved. Most likely he himself opened the street door for them. In theprivacy of his room, with no witnesses near, the mask was thrown off byMrs. Holdfast and her associate, and demands were made upon Mr. Holdfastwith which he refused to comply. Whether the purpose of his visitorswas murder would never now be known, but murder was accomplished beforethey departed, and the unhappy man was left by the wretched pair in theagonies of death. It was necessary, thereafter, for their own safetythat they should not be seen in the neighbourhood of Great PorterSquare, and it would have excited suspicion had they exhibited theslightest interest in the mysterious murder of a man whose body hadnot been identified. Before leaving their victim they had taken theprecaution to empty his pockets of papers, and to remove from the roomeverything in writing which might have led to the identification of thebody. Having made themselves safe, they left the house, and kept out ofsight. But some time afterwards Mrs. Holdfast must have recalled, inconversation with Pelham, the memory of the sheets of paper covered withher husband's writing which she had seen upon the table when she hadvisited him; these pages were not found in his room, and they were thentormented by the idea that the writing was still in existence, and mightone day be discovered to criminate and bring their guilt home to them.It became, therefore, vital to their safety that the papers should notfall into other hands, and for the purpose of searching for them andobtaining possession of them, Pelham had disguised himself as RichardManx, and had taken an attic in No. 118 Great Porter Square, from whichroom he could gain easy access to the house in which the murder had beencommitted.

  The circumstantial evidence of guilt was complete, but direct evidence,in his father's own writing, now lay in Frederick Holdfast's hands.What remained to be done was to bring the murderer to the bar ofjustice.

  Not a moment was to be lost. It was now late in the night, and Pelhamwas doubtless upstairs, busily engaged in his last search.

  Frederick placed the papers carefully in his breast pocket. His honourwas established, his name was returned to him, he was absolved from hisoath. He could resume his position in the world, and could offer to thewoman he loved an honourable position in society. It was she who had ledhim to this discovery; had it not been for her courage, the wretcheswould have escaped, and his father's murder remained unavenged.

  "I myself," said Frederick, "will deliver the murderer into the hands ofjustice. Tonight he shall sleep in a felon's cell."

  He had no fear. Single-handed he would arrest Pelham; it was but man toman, and he was armed, and his cause was just.

  He listened for a moment. It was a wild night, and the rain was pouringdown heavily. The detective and his assistants were in the Square,waiting upon his summons. Nothing but the plashing of the rain was tobe heard; no other sound fell upon his ears from within or without. Themurderer was working warily in the room above; he himself would be aswary. Cunning for cunning, silence for silence, a life for a life.

  "You murderous villain!" murmured Frederick. "Were it not that I darenot stain my soul with a crime, you should not live another hour!"

  In his stocking-feet he crept from the kitchen, and stepped noiselesslyup-stairs. In his hushed movements was typified the retribution whichwaits upon the man who sheds the blood of a human being.

  As he ascended the stairs which led to the first floor he was madeaware, by the sound of a man moving softly in the room in which hisfather had been murdered, that Pelham was at work. In a few momentsFrederick Holdfast was at the door, listening.

  Before he turned the handle, he looked through the key-hole to markthe exact spot upon which Pelham stood, so that he might seize him theinstant he entered the room. To his surprise he saw two persons in theroom--Pelham bending over the floor boards he had torn up, and the formof a man lying on the bed.

  He could not see the face of the recumbent man; the face of Pelham wasclearly visible.

  It was not, then, man to man. There were two to one. Justice might bedefeated were he to risk the unequal encounter. He determined to call inthe assistance of the officers in the Square.

  But before he left the house, which was being watched from the frontand the back, it would be as well to make sure of the murderer and hiscompanion, so that they should have no possible means of escape. He tookfrom his pocket the key of the room, which he had picked up a few hoursago; with a steady hand he inserted it in the lock, and gently turnedit, being unable to prevent the sound of a slight click. Then he creptnoiselessly down stairs, opened the street door, closed it softlybehind him, and stepping into the road, put a whistle to his lips.

  The summons was not instantly obeyed, and he blew the whistle again, andlooked anxiously around. The faint sound of another whistle presentlyanswered him, and in two or three minutes the detective was by his side.

  "I was at the back of the house, sir," said the detective, in apology,"giving directions to one of my men, Parrock, a sharp fellow. You havediscovered something," he added, noting Frederick's agitation.

  "I have found my father's diary," said Frederick, speaking rapidly, "anda Will he made two or three days before he was murdered."

  "Making you all right, I hope," said the detective.

  "Yes--but that is of no consequence. The diary, which I have read,leaves no room to doubt that my father was murdered by his wife'saccomplice, Pelham. The evidence is conclusive, and he cannot escape thelaw, once we have him safe. He must be arrested this moment. He is inmy father's room. I would have secured him myself, but he has anotherman with him, and I did not care to run the chance of two against one."

  "He has a woman with him, you mean," said the detective, "not a man."

  "A man, I mean," replied Frederick; "I saw him with my own eyes."

  "And I, with _my_ own eyes," rejoined the detective, "saw Mrs. Holdfastenter No. 118 this evening, in company of Richard Manx, otherwisePelham. Attend to me a moment, sir. I see through it all. Mrs. Holdfastaccompanied him to-night into the house. Never mind the motive--awoman's motive, say--curiosity, wilfulness, anything will serve. Pelhamdoes not want her company--she forces it on him. What does he do then?He dresses her in a suit of his clothes, so that they may not attractattention when they leave Great Porter Square to-night for good. Sheis a noticeable woman, sir, and has a style about her which one can'thelp remarking. The person you saw was Mrs. Holdfast, dressed in man'sclothes. They are both, you say, in the room your father occupied?"

  "Yes, and I have locked them in, so that they cannot easily get out ofit."

  "Did they hear the key turn?" asked the detective, anxiously.

  "I was very quiet, and I think they did not hear the movement. If youare right in your conjecture, they have thrown themselves into ourhands; their being together in that room is an additional proof of theirguilt."

  "Undoubtedly. They are trapped. What's that?" cried the detective,suddenly.

  "What?" asked Frederick, following the detective's startled glance,which was directed towards the first-floor window of No. 119.

  "A flash! There! Another! Do you see it? By God, sir! they have set fireto the house! Ah, here is Parrock," he said, turning to the man who hadrun quickly to his side. "What news?"

  "The house is on fire," said the man, who was out of breath with fastru
nning.

  "Any fool can see that. Get to the back of the house instantly. Takeanother man with you, and arrest every person who attempts to escape."Parrock disappeared. By this time the flames were rushing out of thefront window of the first floor. "Fire! Fire!" cried the detective. "Theneighbourhood is roused already. Stand close by the street door, sir,and don't let Pelham slip you. He has set fire to the house, and hopesto escape in the confusion. Leave all the rest to me. There is the doorof 118 opening, and there is your young lady, sir, safe and sound. Iwish you joy. Waste as little time as possible on her. Your firstthought must be for your father's murderers."

  As Frederick passed to the street door of 119 he caught Blanche's hand,and she accompanied him. He stooped and kissed her.

  "Thank God, you are safe," he said. "Our troubles are over. I have foundmy father's Will and diary. Pelham is the murderer; he is in this housenow--hunted down."

  "Hark!" cried Blanche, clinging to him. "There is some one else in thehouse. That is a woman's scream!"

  It was a scream of terrible anguish, uttered by a woman in a moment ofsupreme despair. Every face turned white as that awful cry floated fromthe burning building.

  [Decoration]