The Third Volume

by Fergus Hume

  CHAPTER XII.

  REVELATIONS.

  IT was only natural that a silence should ensue between these two sostrangely brought together. Claude, seated pale and anguished in hischair, tried to collect his thoughts, and stared wildly at his mother.She, with her face buried in the cushions, sobbed bitterly. After theway in which her son had spoken, it was cruel that she should have beenforced to make such a revelation at such a moment. He condemned, hereproached, her conduct in the past, and she again tasted the fullbitterness of the cup which had been held to her lips twenty-five yearsbefore.

  On his part Claude did not know what to say; he hardly knew what tothink. Convinced by a perusal of the papers that his mother was morallyguilty of his father's death, he was overwhelmed to find that she wasstill alive, and capable, for all he knew, of offering a defense for hershare in the tragedy. After all, he had no right to judge her until heheard what she had to say. Blood is thicker than water, and she was hismother.

  Now he saw the reason why Hilliston objected to his calling atHampstead; why he advised him to let sleeping dogs lie. After so long aperiod it was worse than useless to bring mother and son together. Theirthoughts, their aims, their lives, were entirely diverse, and only paincould be caused by such a meeting. Claude silently acknowledged thewisdom of Hilliston's judgment, but at the same time could hardlyrefrain from condemning him for having kept him so long in ignorance ofthe truth.

  Mrs. Bezel--as we must still continue to call her--was astonished atthis long silence, but raised her head to cast a timid glance at Claude.His brow was gloomy, his lips were firmly set, and he looked anythingbut overjoyed at the revelation which she had made. Guessing histhoughts, the unhappy woman made a gesture of despair, and spoke in alow voice, broken by sobs.

  "You, too, condemn me?"

  "No, mother," he replied, and Mrs. Bezel winced as she heard himacknowledge the relationship; "I do not condemn you. I have heard oneside of the question. I must now hear the other--from you."

  "What more can I tell you than what you already know," she said, dryingher eyes.

  "I must know the reason why you let me think you dead all these years."

  "It was by my own wish, and by the advice of Mr. Hilliston."

  Claude bit his lip at the mention of this name, and cast a hasty glanceround the splendidly furnished room. A frightful suspicion had enteredhis mind; but she was his mother, and he did not dare to give itutterance. His mother guessed his thoughts, and spared him the pain ofspeaking. With a womanly disregard for the truth she promptly liedconcerning the relationship which her son suspected to exist between hisguardian and herself.

  "You need not look so black, Claude, and think ill of me. I amunfortunate, but not guilty. All that you see here is mine; purchased bymy own money."

  "Your own money?" replied Claude, heaving a sigh of relief.

  "Yes! Mr. Hilliston, who has been a good friend to me, saved sufficientout of my marriage settlement to enable me to furnish this cottage, andlive comfortably. It is just as well," added she bitterly, "else I mighthave died on the streets."

  "But why did you let Hilliston bring me up to think I was an orphan?"

  "I did not wish to shadow your life. I did not wish you to change yourname. I had to change mine, and retire from the world, but that was partof my punishment."

  "Still if----"

  "It was impossible, I tell you, Claude," interrupted his motherimpatiently. "When you grew up you would have asked questions, and thenI would have been forced to tell you all."

  "Yet, in spite of your precautions, I do know all. If you took all thistrouble to hide the truth, why reveal it to me now?"

  Mrs. Bezel pointed to three books lying on an adjacent table. Claudequite understood what she meant.

  "I see," he remarked, before she could speak, "you think that the authorof that book knows about my father's murder."

  "I am certain he does. But what he knows, or how he knows, I cannot say.Still, I am certain of one thing, that he tells the story from hearsay."

  "What makes you think that?"

  "It would take too long to tell you my reasons. It is sufficient tostate that the fictitious case differs from the real case in severalimportant particulars. For instance," she added, with a derisive smile,"the guilty person is said to be Michael Dene, and he is----"

  "Is drawn from Mr. Hilliston."

  "How do you know that?" she asked, with a startled air.

  Claude shrugged his shoulders. "I have eyes to read and brains tocomprehend," he said quietly; "There is no doubt in my mind that thelawyer of the fiction is meant for the lawyer of real life. Otherwise, Ithink the writer drew on his imagination. It was necessary for him toend his story by fixing on one of the characters as a criminal; andowing to the exigencies of the plot, as developed by himself, he choseMichael Dene, otherwise Mr. Hilliston, as the murderer."

  "But you don't think----"

  "Oh, no! I don't think Mr. Hilliston is guilty. I read the trial verycarefully, and moreover I do not see what motive he could have to committhe crime."

  "The motive of Michael Dene is love for the murdered man's wife."

  "In other words, the author assumes that Hilliston loved you," saidClaude coolly; "but I have your assurance that such is not the case."

  "You speak to me like that," cried Mrs. Bezel angrily; "to your mother?"

  Larcher's expression did not change. He turned a trifle paler, andcompressed his lips firmly, otherwise he gave no outward sign of hisemotion. Knowing so much of the case as he did, he could not look onthis woman in the light of a mother; she had indirectly contributed tohis father's death; she had deserted him for twenty-five years; andnow that she claimed his filial reverence, he was unwilling to yieldit to her. Perhaps he was unjust and harsh to think this, but thenatural tie between them was so weakened by time and ignorance that hecould find no affection in his heart to bestow on her. To him she was astranger--nothing more.

  "Let us understand each other," he said coldly. "That you are my motheris no doubt true, but I ask you if you have performed your maternalduties? You obliterated yourself from my life; you left me to be broughtup by strangers; in all ways you only consulted your own desires. Canyou then expect me to yield you that filial obedience which every motherhas a right to expect from her son? If you----"

  "Enough, sir," said Mrs. Bezel, white with anger, "say no more. Iunderstand you only too well, and now regret that I sought thisinterview, which has resulted so ill. I hoped that you would be glad tofind your mother still alive; that you would cherish her in heraffliction. I see I was wrong. You are as cold and bitter as was yourfather."

  "My father?"

  "Yes. Do you think that all the wrong was on my side. Had I nothing toforgive him? Ah! I see by your face that you know to what I allude. Itwas your father and my husband who betrayed me for Mona Bantry."

  "You have no proof of that," said Claude, in a low voice.

  "I have every proof. The girl told me with her own lips. I returned fromthat ball at three o'clock in the morning, and Mr. Jeringham left me atthe door. I entered the house alone and proceeded to my sitting room.There I found Mona and--my husband."

  "Ah! He did return from London on that night?"

  "Yes. He returned, thinking I was out of the way, in order to see hismistress. In his presence she confessed her guilt. I looked to him fordenial, and he hung his head. Then hardly knowing what I did, overcomewith rage, I snatched the dagger which I wore as part of my costume,and----"

  "And killed him," shrieked Claude, springing to his feet. "For Heaven'ssake, do not confess this to me!"

  "Why not? I did no wrong! I did not kill him. I fainted before I couldcross the room to where he stood. When I recovered I was alone. Myhusband and Mona Bantry had disappeared. Then I retired to bed and wasill for days. I know no more of the case."

  "Is this true?" asked Claude anxiously.

  "Why should it not be true? Do y
ou think I would invent a story likethat to asperse the memory of your father? Vilely as he treated me, Iloved him. I do not know who killed him. The dagger I wore disappearedwith him. It was found in the garden; his body in the river four milesdown. But I declare to you solemnly that I am ignorant of whose handstruck the blow. It might have been Mona, or Jeringham, or----"

  "Or Hilliston!"

  "You are wrong there," replied his mother coolly, "or else your judgmenthas been perverted by that book. Mr. Hilliston was still at the ballwhen the tragedy occurred. His evidence at the trial proved that. Don'tsay a word against him. He has been a good friend to you--and to me."

  "I do not deny that."

  "You cannot! When I was arrested and tried for a crime which I nevercommitted, he stood by me. When I left the court alone and friendless,he stood by me. I decided to feign death to escape the obloquy whichattaches to every suspected criminal. He found me this refuge andinstalled me here as Mrs. Bezel. He took charge of you and brought youup, and looked after your money and mine. Don't you dare to speakagainst him!"

  Exhausted by the fury with which she had spoken, the unfortunate womanleaned back in her chair. Claude, already regretting his harshness,brought a glass of water, which he placed to her lips. After a fewminutes she revived, and feebly waved him away; but he was not to be soeasily dismissed.

  "I am sorry I spoke as I did, mother," he said tenderly, arranging herpillows. "Now that I have heard your story, I see that you have sufferedgreatly. It is not my right to reproach you. No doubt you acted for thebest; therefore, I do not say a word against you or Mr. Hilliston, butask you to forgive me."

  The tears were rolling down Mrs. Bezel's cheeks as he spoke thus, andwithout uttering a word, she put her hand in his in token offorgiveness. Claude pressed his lip to her faded cheek, and thusreconciled--as much as was possible under the circumstances--they beganto talk of the case.

  "What do you intend to do?" asked Mrs. Bezel weakly.

  "Find out who killed my father."

  "It is impossible--after five-and-twenty years. I have told you all Iknow, and you see I cannot help you. I do not know whom to suspect."

  "You surely have some suspicion, mother?"

  "No, I have no suspicions. Whomsoever killed your father took the daggerout of my sitting room."

  "Perhaps Mona----"

  "I think not. She had no reason to kill him."

  "He had wronged her."

  "And me!" cried Mrs. Bezel vehemently. "Do not talk any more of thesethings, Claude. I know nothing more; I can tell you nothing more."

  "Then I must try and find John Parver, and learn how he becameacquainted with the story."

  "That is why I sent for you; why I revealed myself; why I told you all Ihave suffered. Find John Parver, and tell me who he is, what he is."

  This Claude promised to do, and, as his mother was worn out by the longconversation, he shortly afterward took his leave. As he descendedFitzjohn's Avenue a thought flashed into his mind as to the identity ofJohn Parver.

  "I wonder if John Parver is Mark Jeringham?" said Claude.

  The question was to be answered on that very evening.