CHAPTER XXXII.
HOW THE DAY ENDED.
It was a day of strange events and sudden surprises. To Jack thepropitious fates gave freedom and a relative whose existence he hadnever even suspected before; to Sir Lucius Chesney they brought a freshinterest in life, a nephew whom he was prepared to take to his heart.Let us see how certain others, closely connected with our story, faredbefore the day was ended.
Victor Nevill spent the afternoon at one of his clubs, where he wonpretty heavily at cards and drank rather more brandy than he wasaccustomed to take. Feeling consequently in good spirits, he determinedto carry out a plan that he had been pondering for some time. He leftthe club at six o'clock, and an hour later a cab put him down at thelower end of Strand-on-the-Green. Mrs. Sedgewick admitted him to StephenFoster's house. The master had not returned from town, she said, butMiss Foster was at home. Nevill asked to see her, and was shown into thedrawing-room, where a couple of red-shaded lamps were burning. He wastoo restless to sit down, and, sauntering to the window, he drew asidethe curtains and looked out at the river, with the lights from therailway bridge reflected on its dark surface.
"There is no reason why I shouldn't do it--no reason why I should feara refusal on her part," he thought. "The clouds have blown over. NoahHawker's silence can be explained only in one way. The papers are hiddenwhere he is certain that they cannot be found, and no doubt he intendsto let the matter rest until he gets out of jail. As for Jack, it is notlikely that he will ever learn the truth or cross my path again. Thegrave tells no secrets. I hope he will leave England when he is released.That will probably be to-day, since the real murderer has been found."
He turned away from the window, and smiled complacently as he droppedinto a big chair.
"Yes, I will do it," he resolved. "I shall ask Madge to marry me withina fortnight or three weeks, and we will go down to Nice or MonteCarlo--I'll risk taking half of that thousand pounds. I dare say myuncle will be a bit cut up when he hears the news; but I won't tell himfor a time, and after he sees my wife he will be only too eager tocongratulate me. Any man might be proud of such--"
Soft footsteps interrupted his musing, and the next instant the dooropened. Madge entered the room, holding in one white hand a crumpledletter. She wore a gown of lustrous rose-colored material, with filmylace on the throat and bosom, and her splendid hair strayed coyly overher neck and temples. She had never looked more dazzlingly lovely,Nevill thought, and yet--
He rose quickly from the chair, and then the words of greeting died onhis lips. He recoiled like a man who sees a ghost, and a sharp andsudden fear stabbed him. In Madge's face, in her flushed cheeks andblazing, scornful eyes, he read the signs of a woman roused to supremestanger.
"How dared you come?" she cried, in a voice that he seemed never to haveheard before. "How dared you? Have you no shame, no conscience? Go! Go!"
"Madge! What has happened?"
"Not that name from you! I forbid it; it dishonors me!"
"I will speak! What does this farce mean?"
"Need you ask? I know all, Victor Nevill! I know that you are a liarand a traitor--that you are everything wicked and vile, infamous andcowardly! Heaven has revealed the truth! I know that Diane Merode wasnever Jack's wife! It was you, his trusted friend, who stole her fromhim in Paris six years ago! You, who found her in London last spring,and persuaded her to play the false and wicked part that crushed thehappiness out of two lives! That is not all; but it would be uselessto recount the rest of your dastardly deeds. Oh, how I despise and hateyou! Your presence is an insult--it is loathsome! Go! Leave me!"
Nevill had listened to this tirade with a madly throbbing heart, and acountenance that was almost livid. He was stunned and bewildered; he didnot understand how it was possible for detection to have overtaken him.His first impulse was to brazen the thing out, on the chance that thegirl's accusations were prompted more by surmise than knowledge.
"It is false!" he cried, striving to compose himself. "You will be sorryfor what you have said. Has John Vernon told you these lies?"
"I have not seen him; he probably knows nothing as yet. But he _will_learn all, and if you are within his reach--"
"This is ridiculous nonsense," Nevill hoarsely interrupted. "It is thework of an enemy. Some one has been poisoning your mind against me. Whois my accuser?"
"_Diane Merode!_" cried Madge, hissing the words from her clenchedteeth. "She accuses you from the grave! Here! Take this and read it--itis a copy of the original. And then deny the truth if you dare!"
Nevill clutched the proffered letter--the girl did not give him Jimmie'sextra enclosure. He read quickly, merely scanning the written pages, andyet grasping their fateful import. He must have been more than human tohide his consternation. The blow fell like a thunderbolt: betrayal hadcome from the quarter whence he would have least expected it--from thegrave. His lips quivered uncontrollably. The pages dropped to the floor.
"_Now_ do you deny it?" Madge demanded. "Answer, and go!"
"I deny everything," he snarled hoarsely. "It is a forgery--a tissue oflies! Believe me, Madge! Don't spurn me! Don't cast me off! I will proveto you--"
"I say go!"
The girl's voice was as hard and cold as steel. She pointed to the dooras Nevill made a step toward her. Her ravishing beauty, lost to himforever, maddened him. For an instant he was tempted to fly at herthroat and bruise its loveliness. But just then a bell pealed loudlythrough the house. The front door was heard to open, and voices mingledwith rapid steps. An elderly man burst unceremoniously into the room,and Nevill recognized Stephen Foster's clerk and shop assistant. Badnews was stamped on his agitated face.
"What is the matter, Hawkins?" Madge asked, breathlessly.
"Oh, how can I tell you, Miss Foster? It is terrible! Your father--"
"What of him?"
"He is dead! He shot himself in his office an hour ago. The police--"
The girl's cheeks turned to the whiteness of marble. She gave one cryof anguish, reeled, and fell unconscious to the floor. Mrs. Sedgewickrushed in, wringing her hands and wailing hysterically.
"See to your young mistress--she has fainted," Nevill said, hoarsely."Fetch cold water at once."
He looked once at Madge's pale and lovely face--he felt that it wasfor the last time--and then he took Hawkins by the arm and pulled himhalf-forcibly into the hall.
"Tell me everything," he whispered, excitedly. "What has happened?"
"There isn't much to tell, Mr. Nevill," the man replied. "Two ScotlandYard men came to the shop at five o'clock. They arrested my employer forstealing that Rembrandt from Lamb and Drummond, and they found thepicture in the safe. Mr. Foster asked permission to make a statement inwriting--he took things coolly:--and they let him do it. He wrote forhalf an hour, and then, before the police could stop him, he snatcheda pistol from a drawer and shot himself through the head. I was soflustered I hardly knew what I was doing, but I thought first of MissMadge, whom I knew from often bringing messages and parcels to thehouse--"
"The statement? What was in it?" Nevill interrupted.
"I don't know, sir!"
"Then I must find out! I am off to town--I can't stop! You will beneeded here, Hawkins. Do all that you can for Miss Foster."
With those words, spoken incoherently, Nevill jammed on his hat andhurried from the house. He turned instinctively toward Grove Park,remembering that the nearest railway station was there. He was hauntedby a terrible fear as he traversed the dark streets with an unsteadygait. Worse than ruin threatened him. He shuddered at the thought ofarrest and punishment. He could not doubt that Stephen Foster hadwritten a full confession.
"He would do it out of revenge--I put the screws on him too often!" hereflected. "I _must_ get to my rooms before the police come; all mymoney is there. And I must cross the Channel to-night!"
All the past rose before him, and he cursed himself for his blindfollies. He just missed a train at Chiswick station, and in desperationhe took a cab to Gunnersbury
and caught a Mansion House train. He gotout at St. James' Park, and pulling his coat collar up he hastenedacross to Pall Mall. He chose the shortest cut to Jermyn street, and onthe north side of St. James' Square, in the shadow of the railings, hesuddenly encountered the last man he could have wished to meet.
"My God, my uncle!" he cried, staggering back.
"You!" exclaimed Sir Lucius, in a voice half-choked by anger. "Stop, youcan't go to your rooms--the police are there. What do they want withyou?"
"You will find out in the morning," Nevill huskily replied; he reeledagainst the railings.
"It can't be much worse--I know all about your dastardly conduct!"said Sir Lucius. "Hawker has given me the papers, and I have foundpoor Mary's son--the friend you betrayed. But there is no time forreproaches, nor could anything I might say add to your punishment. Ifyou have a spark of conscience or shame left, spare me the furtherdisgrace of reading of your arrest in the papers. Get out of England--"
"My money is in my rooms!" gasped Nevill. "I can't escape unless youhelp me!"
Sir Lucius took a handful of notes and gold from his pocket.
"Here are a hundred pounds--all I have with me," he said. "It will bemore than sufficient. Don't lose a moment! Go to Dover, and cross by thenight boat. And never let me see you or hear from you again! I disownyou--you are no nephew of mine! Do you understand? You have ruined yourlife beyond redemption--you can't do better than finish it with abullet!"
Nevill had no words to reply. He seized the money with a trembling hand,and crammed it into his pocket. Then he slunk away into the darkness anddisappeared.
On the following day a new sensation thrilled the public, and it may beimagined with what surprise Sir Lucius Chesney and Jack Vernon--who hadespecial cause to be interested in the revelation--read the papers. Thestory was complete, for Mr. Shadrach, the Jew who managed business forthe firm of Benjamin and Company, took fright and made a full confession.The _Globe_, after treating at length of the arrest and subsequentsuicide of Stephen Foster, continued its account as follows:
"The history of the two Rembrandts forms one of the most curious andunique episodes in criminal annals, and not the least remarkable featureof the story is the manner in which it is pieced together by thestatement of Stephen Foster and the confession of Noah Hawker. When Lamband Drummond purchased the original Rembrandt from the collection of thelate Martin Von Whele, and exhibited it in London, Stephen Foster andhis confederate, Victor Nevill, laid clever plans to steal the picture.They knew that a duplicate Rembrandt, an admirable copy, was in thepossession of Mr. John Vernon, the well-known artist, who was latelyaccused wrongfully of murder. By a cunning ruse Foster stole theduplicate, and on the night of the robbery he exchanged it for the realpicture, while Nevill engaged the watchman in conversation in the CrownCourt public-house. But two other men, Noah Hawker and a companioncalled the Spider, had designs on the same picture. Hawker, whileprowling about, saw Stephen Foster emerge from Crown Court, but thoughtnothing of that circumstance until long afterward. So he and the Spiderstole the false Rembrandt which Foster had substituted, believing it tobe the real one.
"Hawker and his companion went abroad, and when they tried to dispose oftheir prize in Munich they learned that it was of little value. Theysold it, however, for a trifling sum, and the dealer who bought itdisposed of it as an original to Sir Lucius Chesney. On his return toEngland, hearing for the first time of the robbery, Sir Lucius took thepainting to Lamb and Drummond and discovered how he had been tricked.Meanwhile Hawker and his companion quarreled and separated. Both hadbeen under suspicion since a short time after the theft of theRembrandt, and when the Spider was arrested in Belgium, for a crimecommitted in that country, he made some statements in regard to the Lamband Drummond affair. Hawker, coming back to London, fell into the handsof the police. He had before this suspected Stephen Foster's crime, andwhen he found how strong the case was against himself, he told all thathe knew. Scotland Yard took the matter up, and quickly discovered moreevidence, which warranted them in arresting Foster yesterday. They foundthe original Rembrandt in his safe, and the unfortunate man, afterwriting a complete confession, committed suicide. His fellow-criminal,Victor Nevill, must have received timely warning. The police have notsucceeded in apprehending him, and it is believed that he crossed to theContinent last night."
It was not until the middle of the day that the papers printed thecomplete story. Sir Lucius and Jack had a long talk about that andother matters, and in the afternoon they went together to the house atStrand-on-the-Green, and left messages of sympathy for Miss Foster; shewas too prostrated to see any person, Mrs. Sedgewick informed them.Three days later, after the burial of Stephen Foster, Jack returnedalone. He found the house closed, and a neighbor told him that Madgeand Mrs. Sedgewick had gone away and left no address.
It was a bitter disappointment, and it proved the last straw to theburden of Jack's troubles. For a week he tried vainly to trace the girl,and then, at the earnest request of Sir Lucius, he went down to PrioryCourt. There fever gripped him, and he fell seriously ill.