is your enemy, as he is ours." It was a wild shot, but Irecollected his words that I had overheard in the park at Whitton."There has been a conspiracy against myself and this lady here, who ismy wife."
"Your wife!" she gasped.
"I have spoken the truth," I said. "I am here to learn the details fromyou. If, on the other hand, you prefer to preserve the secret of youraccomplices, I shall demand your arrest without delay."
She was silent. Then, after further declarations of ignorance, she wasdriven to desperation by my threats of arrest, and at last said in ahard, husky voice--
"I must first tell you who and what I am. My father was an Englishmerchant, named Turton, who lived in Palermo, and my mother was Italian.Fifteen years ago I was a popular dancer, known throughout Italy as `LaGioia.' While engaged at La Scala Theatre, in Milan, I met anEnglishman named Ashwicke--"
"Ashwicke?" I exclaimed.
"Not the man whom you know as Ashwicke, but another," she responded."He was interested in the occult sciences, apparently wealthy, and muchenamoured of me. In the six months of our courtship I learned to lovehim madly, and the result was that we were married at the Municipio, inMilan, which stands exactly opposite the entrance to the theatre. Amonth afterwards, however, he decamped with my jewels and the whole ofthe money I had saved, leaving behind him, as his only personalpossessions, a box containing some rare old vellum books which he hadpurchased somewhere down in the old Tuscan towns, and of which he hadbeen extremely careful. At first I could not believe that he could havetreated me thus, after all his professions of love; but as the weekspassed and he did not return, I slowly realised the truth that I hadbeen duped and deserted. It was then that I made a vow of revenge.
"Ten endless years passed, and, my personal beauty having faded, I wascompelled to remain on the stage, accepting menial parts and strugglingfor bread until, by the death of a cousin, I found myself withsufficient to live upon. Though I had no clue to who my husband was,beyond a name which had most probably been assumed, I neverthelesstreasured his books, feeling vaguely that some day they might give me aclue. In those years that went by I spent days and days deciphering theold black letters, and translating from the Latin and Italian. Theywere nearly all works dealing with the ancient practice of medicine, butone there was dealt with secret poisons. I have it here;" and unlockinga drawer in a rosewood cabinet, she took therefrom a big leather-coveredtome, written in Latin upon vellum.
There was an old rusted lock of Florentine workmanship upon it, and theleather was worm-eaten and tattered.
"This contains the secret of the vayana," she went on, opening theponderous volume before me upon the table. "I discovered that thepoison was the only one impossible of detection, and then it occurred tome to prepare it, and with it strike revenge. Well, although I had beenin London a dozen times in search of the man I had once loved, I cameagain and settled down here, determined to spare no effort to discoverhim. Through four whole years I sought him diligently, when at last Iwas successful. I discovered who and what he was."
"Who was he?" I inquired.
"The man you know as Major Tattersett. His real name is Ashwicke."
"Tattersett?" gasped Beryl. "And he is your husband?"
"Most certainly," she responded. "I watched him diligently for morethan twelve months, and discovered that his career had been a mostextraordinary one, and that he was in association with a man namedGraham--who sometimes also called himself Ashwicke--and who was one ofthe most expert and ingenious forgers ever known. Graham was acontinental swindler whom the police had for years been endeavouring toarrest, while the man who was my husband was known in criminal circlesas `The Major.' Their operations in England, Belgium, and America wereon a most extensive-scale, and in the past eight years or so they haveamassed a large fortune, and have succeeded in entering a veryrespectable circle of society. While keeping watch upon my husband'smovements, I found that he, one evening a few months ago, went down toHounslow, and, unobserved by him, I travelled by the same train. Ifollowed him to Whitton, and watched him meet clandestinely a lady whowas one of the guests."
"It was myself?" Beryl exclaimed, standing utterly dumbfounded by theserevelations.
"Yes," the woman went on. "I was present at your meeting, although notsufficiently near to overhear your conversation. By your manner,however, I felt confident that you were lovers, and then a fiendishsuggestion--one that I now deeply regret--occurred to me, namely to killyou both by secret means. With that object I went to the small rusticbridge by the lake--over which I knew you must pass on your return tothe house, both of you having crossed it on your way there--and upon thehand-rail I placed the poison I had prepared. I knew that if you placedyour hand upon the rail the poison would at once be absorbed through theskin, and must prove fatal. My calculations were, however, incorrect,for an innocent man fell victim. Colonel Chetwode came down that path,and, unconsciously grasping the rail, received the sting of death, whileyou and your companion returned by a circuitous route, and did nottherefore discover him."
"And is that really the true story of the Colonel's death?" I askedblankly.
"Yes," she answered, her chin upon her breast. "You may denounce me. Iam a murderess--a murderess?"
There was a long and awkward pause.
"And can you tell us nothing of our mysterious union and its motive?" Iasked her.
"Nothing," she responded, shaking her head. "I would tell you all, if Iknew, for you, like myself, have fallen victims in the hands ofTattersett and Graham--only they themselves know the truth. After thetragedy at Whitton I traced Beryl Wynd to Gloucester Square, and, stillbelieving her to have supplanted me in my husband's affections, calledthere in the guise of a dressmaker, and while your wife was absent fromthe room managed to write a reply to a fictitious message I had broughther from Graham. I placed the liquid upon the porcelain handle of thedoor on the inside, so that a person on entering would experience noill-effect, but on pulling open the door to leave would receive the fullstrength of the deadly vayana. This again proved ineffectual; thereforeascertaining that Graham intended to visit Atworth, I entered there andplaced the terrible alkaloid on certain objects in your wife's room--upon her waist-belt, and in the room that had been occupied by him onhis previous visit, but which proved to be then occupied by yourself."
"And that accounts for the mysterious attacks which we bothexperienced!" I observed, amazed at her confession.
"Yes," she replied; "I intended to commit murder. I was unaware thatBeryl was your wife, and I have committed an error which I shall regretthrough all my life, I can only ask your forgiveness--if you really canforgive."
"I have not yet learnt the whole facts--the motive of our marriage," Ianswered. "Can you direct us to either of the men?"
She paused. Then at last answered, "Graham, or the man you know asAshwicke, is here in this house; he called upon me by appointment thisafternoon. If you so desire, I will tell my servant to ask him in."
"But before doing so," cried Beryl, excitedly, "let me first explain myown position! I, too, am not altogether blameless. The story of myparentage, as I have given it to you, Richard, is a fictitious one. Inever knew my parents. My earliest recollections were of the Convent ofthe Sacre Coeur at Brunoy, near Paris, where I spent fourteen years,having as companion, during the latter seven years, Nora Findlay, thedaughter of a Scotch ironmaster. Of my own parents the Sisters declaredthey knew nothing, and as I grew up they constantly tried to persuade meto take the veil. Nora, my best friend, left the convent, returned toEngland, and two years afterwards married Sir Henry, whereupon shegenerously offered me a place in her house as companion. She is norelation, but, knowing my susceptibilities, and in order that I shouldnot be looked upon as a paid companion, she gave out that we werecousins--hence I was accepted as such everywhere.
"With Nora I had a pleasant, careless life, until about two years ago Imet the Major, unknown to Nora, and afterwards became on friendly termswith
a young man, an officer in the guards, who was his friend.Tattersett won a large sum from him at cards; and then I saw, to mydismay, that he had been attracted only by the mild flirtation I hadcarried on with him, and that he had played in order to please me. TheMajor increased my dismay by telling me that this young man was the sonof a certain woman who was his bitterest enemy--the Italian woman calledLa Gioia--and that she would seek a terrible revenge upon us both. Thiswas to frighten me. My life having been spent in the convent, I knewvery little of the ways of the world, yet I soon saw sufficient of bothto know that Tattersett was an expert forger, and that his accompliceGraham was a clever continental thief whom the police had long beenwanting. How I called at the
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