CHAPTER LXV.
FROM "THE LITTLE BUSY BEE."
"The sensational incidents in the Bishop Street Police Court to-day,where two innocent men were charged with the murder of Samuel Boyd ofCatchpole Square, were in keeping with the startling developments ofthis monstrous crime which we have recorded from day to day. A fullreport of the proceedings appears in our columns, and we challenge themasters of sensational fiction to produce a story so remarkable andextraordinary. Writing at high pressure, we have neither the time northe space for a careful consideration of all the features of thisMystery-murder--no longer a mystery, thanks to the doings of thechild-heroine, Gracie Death, and of Richard Remington, who, with theson of the murdered man, almost fell a victim to one of the vilestconspiracies in the history of crime. To-morrow we shall go fully intoall the details; to-day we must content ourselves with supplementingthe report of the police court proceedings and incidents by suchfurther particulars as have come to our knowledge.
"Mr. Ezra Lynn is in custody, and will be brought before themagistrate on Monday. There are rumours that he intends to makeconfession, with the view of showing that he was not the actualperpetrator of the horrible crime. We make no comment upon thisrumour, confident that justice will be done.
"Dr. Pye, otherwise Louis Lorenz, is dead. Upon his body were foundthe brands mentioned by Pitou, proving him to be the notoriouscriminal, Louis Lorenz. Of this monster's character it is difficult tospeak; from the little that is known of it a strange study ispresented to the psychologist. Undoubtedly a man of high attainments,it seems to be certain that he was an earnest student in the scienceof alchemy, which, vague and imaginative as it has been proved to be,is the parent of that higher and positive science of chemistry, towhich mankind owes so much. The times are past when astrology, magic,and alchemy were seriously considered. Religion and philosophy onceacknowledged them, but does so no longer. But there are still in theworld dreamers with diseased imaginations, and one of these appears tohave been Louis Lorenz, who, with his love for ancient art, regardedeven the most horrible crimes as but a means to further his visionaryends. We shall at present say no more of him except that it is to bedeplored that he has escaped justice, and does not live to expiate hiscrimes on the scaffold.
"What shall we say of little Gracie Death? History supplies no sweeterand more touching example of courage and devotion. In saying this webut echo the public voice, for so great was the enthusiasm when sheissued from the police court that the people would have carried herthrough the streets on their shoulders. This was sensibly avoided, andshe and her parents were taken to their humble home in Lady Wharton'scarriage. All honour to this brave child, at whose feet we lay ourtribute of admiration. Let some recognition of the noble qualities shedisplayed be made in our modern manner. Let us lift her family frompoverty. We are already in the receipt of letters anticipating ourwishes in this direction. The correspondence will appear in ourto-morrow's issues, but we append a list of the donors, theircontributions ranging from the modest sixpence to the regal sovereign.We esteem it a privilege to head the list with a contribution of fivepounds."
CHAPTER LXVI.
JOY.
There was joy almost too great for utterance in two London homes thatnight. After partaking of a wonderful meal provided by Lady Wharton,Gracie's little brothers and sisters had the treat of sitting up lateto look at father, who, weak as he was, would not go to bed, butreclined in an armchair lent by a sympathising neighbour--ah, howsweet and beautiful is the kindness of the poor to the poor!--and withGracie's hand in his, gazed with gratitude upon the dear ones to whomhe had been almost miraculously restored. It seemed as if the darkclouds which had hung for so many weary years over his life hadvanished, and that there lay before him the sure promise of bettertimes. Lady Wharton had asked him if he would not like to live in thecountry with his wife and children. There was, she said, a cottagelarge enough for them all, and a garden, and she offered to findemployment on her estate for the poor London clerk. A vision ofparadise--fairy scenes, with good food, and decent clothes, andflowers, and grass, and trees, and heaven knows what wonders. In fancythey heard the birds singing, and saw the white lambs in the meadows.But nothing was settled, it was only talked about.
"And if you don't care to live in the country," said the kind-heartedlady before she left them, "we'll find something for you here inLondon."
Then, with a silver shilling to each of the children, she and herbrother bade them a merry good night. The treasure was now hidden insix little hot palms, which every now and then were opened just wideenough for a peep--to make sure that it had not spread its wings andflown away.
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There was a prayer in the hearts of Aunt Rob's family as they satround the tea table, and joyful tears that would not be repressed. Forhere was Aunt Rob singing and crying at the same time, and breakingdown, and kissing Florence and Reginald and Dick and Uncle Rob, andthen singing again with a happy sob in her throat, and saying in themidst of it all.
"Oh, Dick, Dick, how shall we ever repay you!"
If Gracie was the heroine in her humble home, he was the hero inAunt Rob's, but both of them were inclined to rebel against thishero-worship, and made little of what they had done.
Certain things had been discussed, and certain plans laid, by AuntRob's family, which needed to be carried out that night, and carriedout they were. At eight o'clock they walked up the stairs in Draper'sMews, and being admitted were gladly welcomed by Mr. and Mrs. Deathand the children. Not because of the store of food and wine andjellies they brought with them, but genuinely for their own sakes.Where they all found room to sit is one of those wonders which arenever to be explained, but find room they did, and they talked andtalked, and the children listened and listened, and Gracie sat byDick's side on the poor bed, and wine was drunk by the elder peopleand tasted by the younger, and Abel Death's eyes brightened, and Dick,suddenly recollecting, pulled out a bag of brandyballs, which he gaveto the youngsters. And then Reginald put a piece of paper intoGracie's hand.
"What is it?" she asked, and looking at it, trembled so that she hadto hold Dick tight. "Mother--father--look!"
"It will be paid at the bank to-morrow," said Reginald. "Dick will gowith you to get the money."
"Two--hundred--pounds!" gasped Gracie.
"For finding Mr. Abel Death," said Reginald. "And, oh, Gracie, howthankful I am to pay it!"
Gracie hid her face on Dick's breast. When she raised her head therewere no tears in her eyes, but the same beautiful light in them thatDick had seen once before that day.
"You'll be all right now, father," she said, giving him the cheque.
"God is very good to us!" murmured Mrs. Death, and then all thefoolish women in the room began to sob.
THE END.
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_Printed by Hazell, Watson, & Viney, Ld., London and Aylesbury,England_.
Samuel Boyd of Catchpole Square: A Mystery Page 66
