"Do you present these to me in all seriousness?" asked the Coroner.
"They are the conclusions arrived at by the jury," replied the Juror. "With eight of my colleagues I do not agree, but for all that I have not hectored them."
"Your conduct during this inquiry is open to severe censure," said the Coroner, "and you strangely misapprehend your duty. Gentlemen, you have presented me with three separate verdicts, which you must have known I cannot accept. The dissensions which have arisen amongst you are deeply regrettable, and I tell you plainly you have not served the cause of justice. I have placed before you a form of verdict which would meet the general view of the case, and leave the matter open to the proper authorities. You have declined to be guided by me, and I am afraid it would be useless to argue any longer with you. What do you say, Mr. Foreman?"
"From the differences that exist between us, sir, quite useless," replied the foreman.
"The position is a difficult one, and I must take time to consider it. I regret, gentlemen, that I cannot discharge you from your labours, but that is no fault of mine. You will attend this court next Thursday morning at eleven o'clock. By that time, perhaps, something may transpire which will settle your doubts-which I trust," he added, "are conscientious doubts."
The announcement that their labours were not at an end was received by the jury with murmurs of dissatisfaction.
"The remedy lies with yourselves," said the Coroner. "In a criminal court where the jury disagree, the case may be put back and tried again before a fresh jury, but this cannot be done in a Coroner's Court. Before I finally discharge you, you will have to return a verdict. You will be here this day week punctually at eleven o'clock in the morning."
The court then broke up.
There were still a great many spectators who had waited in the expectation that a verdict would be delivered, and they filed out slowly, eagerly discussing the position of affairs, one man declaring that the Catchpole Square Mystery, from first to last, was nothing but a series of the most startling sensations, adding, "And I'm greatly mistaken if there's not more to come." He rolled this round his tongue, as if it were a delectable morsel. Detective Lambert, without seeming to notice Reginald, was almost the first to leave the court, and he stood outside, smoothing his chin, a target for all eyes, for his fame had travelled far and wide, and it was already rumoured that he had "taken up" the Catchpole Square Mystery. Two or three of the jurymen still lingered within the court, and glanced with curiosity at the Robson group and at Mrs. Death, whose state of agitation it was pitiable to witness. Now she beat the air with her trembling hands, now she clasped them convulsively, while inarticulate words of protest dropped from her quivering lips. All these persons moved slowly to the door of the courthouse.
CHAPTER LII
ARRESTED FOR MURDER
"A moment, Reginald," said Uncle Rob, in a low tone, laying his hand on the young man's arm.
As the men fell back a pace or two they came face to face with Mrs. Death. In his heart Reginald believed Abel Death to be innocent, and even in the midst of his own trouble he would have addressed a word of comfort to her, but she, distracted by grief and indignant horror, held up her hands as if to ward him off, and brushed past him into the open. She had been present during the whole of the inquest, but her mind was in too agitated a state to pay close attention to any of the evidence except those parts which affected her husband, and she had therefore, until she heard the Coroner's address to the jury, missed the significance of the contradiction she had given to the statement of Dr. Pye as to the hour he had seen a man come from Samuel Boyd's house in Catchpole Square. In justice to her it must be said that even if she had recognised it when she was under examination she would not have withheld it, for she was a fair-minded woman, and was still grateful for the kindness the young man had once shown them. But it seemed to her now that in weakening the case against Reginald she had strengthened it against her husband, and it was this that caused her to reject with horror the advances which Reginald had made towards her.
"She believes me guilty," thought Reginald, as she disappeared through the door of the court; and then, turning to Uncle Rob, he said, "What is it?"
"Detective Lambert is waiting outside," said Uncle Rob in a low tone.
"For me?"
"For you."
Reginald could not help being startled, though he had been all day inwardly preparing himself. Stepping to Aunt Rob's side he said, in a tone of assumed lightness, "We are full of secrets just now. I have one for you; Florence won't mind." Drawing her away he whispered, "Take Florence home."
He had not time to say more, for Florence, although she had not heard what had passed had caught its sense, and she now glided swiftly to his side, and clung close to his arm.
"Go home, dearest," he said. "I am going to walk with your father to the station."
"We will walk with you," said Florence, and then in an imploring tone, "Do not send me away from you till the last moment!"
"Why, Florence, my love," said Reginald, as if in surprise, but here Aunt Rob interposed.
"There must be no more secrets. Don't keep anything from us, father. Tell us the worst; we can bear it."
Uncle Rob looked at Reginald, who nodded, and passed his arm round Florence's waist.
"Lambert has been talking to me," said Uncle Rob; "he has behaved very considerately, and asked me to break it to you." His voice faltered. "He has a warrant for Reginald's arrest. Courage, my dears, courage!"
This little party, at whom so terrible a blow was dealt, now stood apart and alone, and what they said could be heard only by themselves. Aunt Rob drew a long breath.
"It's what we've been waiting for," she said, "and it had to come. Reginald will face it like a man, and will fling the lie into their faces. Keep a stout heart, my lad."
"If I suffer," he replied, "it is because of the grief I have brought into my dear Florence's life."
"It is not a grief of your creating, dear," said Florence, "and you have brought nothing into my life which has not strengthened my love for you. I put my trust in God." She bent down, and pressed her lips upon his hand; the night had fallen, and those at a distance could not see the action. "Oh, my dear, my dear! He will not allow the innocent to suffer."
"Be brave, for my sake, dearest."
"I will be. I am." And in her heart was the prayer, "God shield my beloved! God protect him!"
They issued into the open air, and stood by Lambert's side in silence. The only movement he made was to beckon to a constable, and, whispering a few words to him, to point somewhat conspicuously to the juror who had shown himself so inimical to Reginald. All the other jurymen had taken their departure; this man alone was waiting.
If Lambert's aim was to arouse in him the aggressive spirit of which he had given frequent instances during the inquest, it was gained, for the juror walked up to the detective, and inquired if he had pointed at him with any particular design, and if so, what it was and what he meant by it. Lambert stroked his chin and did not answer.
"The road's free to all, I suppose," pursued the man, nettled at Lambert's silence; his voice was loud and offensive.
"Now you mention it," observed Lambert, slowly considering the proposition, "it is."
"I thought so," said the man, and was at a loss what next to say, for Lambert had fallen into a meditative mood, and to feel for a pimple on his chin seemed to be of assistance to him.
The appearance of another person upon the scene, who halted, however, at a distance of a dozen yards or so, with her black eyes fixed upon the juror, was not noticed by any of them, except perhaps by the meditative detective.
"Move on," said the constable whom Lambert had addressed, and some idlers, who had shown a disposition to linger, sauntered away. The juror held his ground, but was not at his ease, for he felt that Lambert's eye was on him, and to be thus meditatively observed by an imperturbable detective was enough to make any man uneasy. Presently Lambert roused himself from his brown study.
"Which direction are you going to take?" he said to the Juror.
"Why do you want to know?" asked the man.
"Because I will take the other, and I've a hundred things to attend to."
"Who's hindering you?"
"You, Mr. Rawdon. That's your name, I believe."
"I'm not ashamed of it," said Mr. Rawdon, with a slight start.
"Why should you be?" remarked Lambert quietly. "It's the name you were born to. I'm not ashamed of mine; to tell you the truth, I'm rather proud of it. What we've got to do with our names, whether we like 'em or not, is to make 'em a credit to ourselves and our families. And we're born, not only to names that stick to us, but to tempers that stick to us. Now, when I see a man showing a nasty temper, I cast about in my mind for something that will soothe his ruffled feelings. That's what I've been thinking about. 'What can I do,' says I to myself, 'that will soothe Mr. Rawdon's ruffled feelings?' And it's come over me to put it in the shape of a question, if you've no objection."
"Let's hear what it is," said Mr. Rawdon, upon whom the detective's words did not seem to have a soothing effect.
"'It's a question," continued Lambert, "that I wouldn't put to you publicly if it wasn't that we're playing a sort of game, you and me, a sort of trying to tire one another out, because, you know, Mr. Rawdon, there's many a thing in a man's life he'd prefer to keep to himself. As for tiring me out, you couldn't do it, Mr. Rawdon. It's well known that Detective Lambert is the most patient man in the whole police force, and it's well known, too, that he never mixes himself up with other people's private affairs unless he has the best of reasons for it."
"Aren't you losing sight of your question?" asked Mr. Rawdon sullenly.
"No, I'm not; I'm coming to it; but I'm naturally a slow man-slow and sure. It's happened on occasions that I've been a long time taking aim; but then I never miss; and I never do anything definite-anything definite, mind-or say anything definite (which is what I'm going to say now), without a motive. Now, do you understand that?" No voice could be more persuasive than that in which he explained himself to Mr. Rawdon.
"Oh, I understand it," said that individual.
"And so could a blind dog, if it was put to him forcible. It eases my mind; I give you my word, it eases my mind. Pay particular attention to the question, Mr. Rawdon: there's a lot hanging to it that the present company-my friend Inspector Robson and his good wife, and my friend Mr. Reginald Boyd and his good wife-haven't the slightest understanding of. Which makes it all the more comfortable for you and me, because it's between us. Are you ready, Mr. Rawdon?"
"Quite ready, Mr. Lambert."
"Well, then. What is the amount of the judgment obtained against you by Mr. Ezra Lynn, how much do you owe him altogether, and what arrangement has lately been made between you? And if that's three questions instead of one I hope you'll excuse me."
So saying, Detective Lambert rubbed his chin, and shed a genial smile upon Mr. Rawdon, whose perturbation was so great that he seemed to be deprived of the power of speech.
"If you want time to chew it over," continued Lambert, "take time. There's been many a knotty point raised in this inquiry into the Catchpole Square Mystery; one or two more or less won't matter much. Take your time, Mr. Rawdon, take your time. Go home and chew it over."
In obedience to a motion of his eyebrows imperceptible to all but the constable, that official bustled forward with his "Move on, please, move on"; and as though he were glad of an excuse to set his limbs in motion Mr. Rawdon moved slowly away, in the opposite direction to the Bishop Street Police Station. The other person, little Gracie, who had been watching the group, moved stealthily after him, and in a moment or two the man and the girl had turned the corner of the street.
Lambert smiled in self-approval, and the next moment became grave as he touched Reginald on the arm. "Now, Mr. Boyd."
Florence quivered as though she had been stung, but instantly recovered herself.
"I am at your disposal, Mr. Lambert," said Reginald. "You have a warrant for my arrest."
"I have; and I'll read it to you at the Bishop Street Police Station. I would take you to another, but as I've already explained to the Inspector it is the proper station to take you to, as the charge will have to be heard at the Bishop Street Police Court."
"Will it be heard to-morrow?"
"To-morrow. It will be merely formal, and there'll be a remand, for a week I should say. That is what will be asked for. I am acting under instructions." He turned to Florence and Aunt Rob. "I hope you'll not take it amiss, ladies. Duty's duty, and it's hard to do sometimes. Mr. Boyd and I will walk quietly to the station with Inspector Robson. I'll keep people off while you say good-bye." He turned his back to them, from motives of delicacy, and to serve as a screen.
"Would there be any objection, Mr. Lambert," said Aunt Rob, "to our walking with him as far as the station?" She spoke stiffly and severely: despite the manifest friendliness of the detective she could not forgive him.
"None in the world, if you wish it."
"We do wish it," said Florence, timidly.
"Give an arm to the ladies," said Lambert to Reginald. "The Inspector and I will walk on behind. You would hardly believe it, but at this time every Thursday night I get a singing in my ears that makes me quite deaf. An old complaint; had it from childhood; it comes on suddenly; I've got it now."
He fell back with Uncle Rob, and no person meeting them would have supposed that a man was being arrested for murder. Within two or three hundred yards of Bishop Street Dick ran up to them, and he saw immediately what was transpiring.
"You have come in good time, Dick," said Reginald, pressing the friendly hand. "Florence and Aunt Rob have no one to take them home. You see what is going on." Dick nodded. "Now that the suspense is over I feel relieved. I have something to face, and I can speak out boldly."
"He must have a lawyer, Dick," said Aunt Rob.
"It is being attended to, aunt."
"I would have preferred to defend myself," said Reginald, "but I suppose it would be unwise."
"It would be folly," said Dick. "I saw your solicitor this afternoon, and we have agreed upon the barrister, Mr. Edward Pallaret. He ranks high, and is generally on the right side."
"On the just side, Dick."
"That is what I meant, aunt."
"Did you expect this, that you have gone so far?" she asked.
"I have been expecting it all along. Is Lambert acting on his own responsibility?"
"No, under instructions, he says."
"Ah. Do you approve of Mr. Pallaret, Reginald?"
"Yes. He is an honourable man."
"He is; and a man that judges and magistrates listen to with respect. That is not the case with all lawyers. There are black sheep among them that damn a case the moment their names appear in it. I have a pair of solicitors in my mind now, a couple of sharp, sneaking scoundrels who never yet have had the handling of a reputable case. Mr. Lamb is not a very eminent solicitor, but he is a respectable man, and it was he who suggested Mr. Pallaret. Don't be faint-hearted, Reginald; we'll pull you out of this with flying colours. Have any of you seen little Gracie Death to-day?"
No, none of them had seen her.
"She'll be at your house to-night, aunt, with news, perhaps. Here we are at the station."
He made a secret motion to his uncle as they entered, and saying to the others that they would join them presently, he and the Inspector retired to a small room at the back of the office, where the latter. kept his accoutrements, which he now proceeded to put on for the sad duties of the night.
"Do you remember the talk we had together, Dick," said the Inspector mournfully, "on the night of the fog, when Mrs. Abel Death came in with her little girl, and told us of the disappearance of her husband. We argued it out together, and the thought of a murder done was in our minds. It's little more than a week ago, and it seems a year. We didn't think it would come to this."
To Dick, also, it seemed as if months had passed instead of days, and as if he himself were a different being. Aimless, purposeless, then, with no object in life to lift him out of the lethargic state into which he had fallen, the hours now were all too short for the strange and desperate task to which he had set his hand, the strangest and most hazardous part of which had yet to be performed.
"Lambert speaks fair," continued the Inspector, "but you are the rock upon which we must lean for safety. Oh, Dick, my lad, save my Florence if you can from life-long misery!"
"I'm bound to do it, uncle," said Dick, "or sink. Something whispers to me that I shall succeed. And now let me tell you-I may not have another opportunity. I'm going to see Florence and Aunt Rob home, where I've asked little Gracie to come and have a chat with me. After to-night it's on the cards that I shall disappear-"
"Disappear!" cried the Inspector, catching his nephew by the arm.
"Hush! They must not hear us. I mean that neither you nor they will know where I am for a few days. There will be a notice stuck up on the house in Catchpole Square to the effect that all inquiries for me are to be made at your house, and that all letters for me are to be left there. If any inquiries are made, tell Aunt Rob and Florence that they're to say they are expecting me home at any moment, and don't know where I have gone to. Nothing more than that. I must leave this to you, for I cannot confide in them. I am bound to keep my secret, and I could not answer the questions they would put to me in their anxiety."
"But, Dick-"
Dick held up his hand. "There isn't a step I've taken in this affair that hasn't been taken with only one end in view, the end we are all praying for, and perhaps there are things I've kept from you because it would never have done to tell them to a police inspector. There was your duty as a public officer, and there were your feelings as a father. Would it have been right of me to bring these into conflict?"
"I see that, my lad, I see that, and it has been a torture to me."
"Look me in the face, uncle." He moved into the light, so that it could be clearly seen. "Is it an honest face?"
"Yes, my lad."
"A face you can trust?"
"Yes."
"Then trust it, and act as I desire. You ask me to save Florence from misery, and, with God's help and my own wits, that's what I feel I shall do if I'm left free to follow out my plans. If I am hampered in any way Reginald will lose his best defender. I've been in danger once to-day, and my wits saved me. We must get back to them, or they'll be suspecting something. If you are satisfied with what I've said, uncle, give me your hand."
They clasped hands, and returned to the front office. Inspector Robson stiffened himself, and walked to his desk. Then Lambert, who held the warrant in his hand, read it aloud, but in a low tone, and advised Reginald to say nothing.
"I am not afraid to speak," Reginald answered, with a proud, defiant look. "Until my innocence is proved I will proclaim it to all the world."
"Well said, my son," said Aunt Rob.
Inspector Robson did not utter a word, but with a set face entered the charge. Then Detective Lambert bade the Inspector good night, and passed out of the scene. He offered no good-bye greeting to the others, and seemingly took no notice of Aunt Rob's action when she held her skirts aside, so that he should not touch them. It was not in her heart to forgive him for the part he had played.
When all the formalities were concluded Florence and Reginald, clasped in each other's arms, exchanged tender words of comfort and hope.
"God bless you, my beloved husband," said the girl-wife. "He will make your innocence clear."
"I have no fears," said Reginald. "God preserve you?"
"Good night, my son," said Aunt Rob.
There was not a tear in their eyes; each strove by outward calmness to sustain the other in this bitter trial. Inspector Robson never raised his eyes from the charge sheet.
"Take care of her, Dick," said Reginald.
"Trust to me, Reginald," said Dick, with a bright smile.
So they left him, and proceeded through the dimly lighted streets to Aunt Rob's house, and there they found Gracie waiting outside for Dick.