by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XXVI
THE END OF THE TROUBLE
Giles returned to Rickwell within a week, to find that great changes hadtaken place in the place, even in that little while. After thefoundering of _The Dark Horse_, the other yacht had returned to Englandforthwith. She had not been very badly damaged by Dane's mad act,although her bows had been smashed. Calthorpe, indeed, had been on thepoint of putting in to the nearest port to refit, but finding that _TheFirefly_ was still seaworthy he held on until he got back to Dover.
Some of the crew of the lost ship had been picked up. As they were allmore or less connected with the Scarlet Cross Society, Steel took chargeof them and conducted them to London. Giles accompanied Anne to hermother. The Princess Karacsay received her with open arms, and Olga withmany professions of gratitude. "You have undone all the harm I caused,"said Olga to Giles.
"Oh, that's all right," he replied. "We are friends now?"
"Friends, and nothing more than friends. I am returning to Vienna withmy mother, and have agreed to marry Count Taroc."
Satisfied on this point, Giles went back to Rickwell, leaving Anne tothe society of the Princess. Almost as soon as he set foot in his homehe was informed of the news by Trim.
"Mr. Franklin is dead," said Trim, with startling abruptness.
"Dead!" echoed Ware astonished. "Was his broken leg the cause?"
"No," replied the old man; "but yesterday he received a telegram, andafterwards took a dose of poison. His daughter is coming here to seeyou, sir. She heard you were to be here to-day."
Giles wondered why Portia should come to see him, and also why Denhamshould have committed suicide after receiving a telegram. Trim could nottell him what the telegram was about, so Giles had to wait until thegirl chose to call and enlighten him. Perhaps she had a message for himfrom the dead man concerning Anne. Meanwhile Trim went on to state thatMrs. Morley was leaving Rickwell.
"She has sold all her furniture and has let The Elms," said Trim. "I sawMorris yesterday, and he tells me she is stopping at 'The Merry Dancer'with her children."
"Does she know of her husband's death?" asked Giles.
"Death, sir. Is Mr. Morley dead?"
"I forgot. You do not know. Yes, Trim. He went down in his yacht, _TheDark Horse_, in the Bay of Biscay."
"Poor woman!" said Trim, looking shocked; "she was so fond of him."
Ware had his own opinion on this point, so made no remark. He turnedover the correspondence that had accumulated during his absence, andfound a letter from Mrs. Morley written a day or so previous. She saidtherein that she wished to see him particularly, and that she wouldcall as soon as he returned. She had something most particular to tellhim. The word "particular" was underlined. Giles wondered if sheintended to tell him some of Morley's rascalities. But then heremembered that, according to Dane, she knew nothing of the double lifewhich her husband had led. Anxious to hear what she had to say, hedespatched a note by Trim asking her to come to his house, and offeringto go to the inn, should she prefer their conversation to take placethere. When Trim departed, Giles proceeded to despatch such businessconnected with his estates as was necessary.
Hardly had he been an hour engaged in this way when Portia called to seehim. She had discarded her rainbow-colored garb, and was clothed infunereal black. When she entered Giles' study he saw that her eyes werered, and her face swollen with weeping. He felt extremely sorry for thepoor girl, and privately determined to look after her as Denham hadrequested. Meantime he did his best to console Portia.
"I am sorry to hear of your father's death," he said sympathetically.Portia looked at him indignantly.
"Why should you say that?" she demanded; "you were not his friend."
"No. I certainly was not. All the same I cannot help regretting that aman with such great gifts should have wasted them in the way he did, andshould have put an end to himself."
"There was nothing else for him to do," said the girl mournfully. "Hewas to be taken to gaol as soon as his leg was better. The police couldnot move him immediately, or he would have been put in gaol long ago.But he's dead now, and I'm glad. Whatever you may say of him, Mr. Ware,he was my father, and good to me. Yes, and he was good to Anne also.She'll tell you so."
"I am sure he was," answered Giles gently. "Your father had his goodpoints, Portia. How much of his sad history do you know?"
"I know he had his faults," she replied doggedly, "and that he was verybadly treated by that beast Morley. I'm glad Morley is dead."
"How do you know he is?" asked Giles sharply.
"Father got a telegram yesterday from Steel. Steel promised to let himknow if Morley was caught, as father hated him so. When the telegramcame saying that Morley was drowned, father said that he had nothingleft to live for, and that he was quite pleased to die. Then he sent meout of the room and took poison. I came back in an hour," sobbed Portia,"and found him dead. He looked so handsome as a corpse."
Giles shivered at this morbid speech, but made no comment thereon. Hesaw that Portia knew very little, and was determined in her own mind toknow no more. She had elevated her dead father to the rank of a hero,and would not listen to a word against him. Ware thought there must havebeen a great deal of good in Denham, despite his evil career, seeingthat he had gained the good will of both Portia and Anne. But he had notime to talk further to Portia on these points, as a card was brought into him, and he learned that Mrs. Morley was waiting to see him. He saida few final words to Portia.
"How do you stand?" he asked.
"Anne will look after me," she answered. "I don't suppose you'll be meanenough to put her against me."
"Why should I?" said Giles mildly. "I am only too glad to help you inany way I can. But this money your father----"
"That is all right. Father saw Mr. Asher, the lawyer, and has left hismoney to Anne, every penny of it. I get nothing," cried Portia, with afresh burst of grief; "but I do hope Anne will help me. I'm sure I'vealways been very good to her, even though she isn't my sister."
"Did your father tell you she wasn't?"
"Yes. He said she was an adopted child. Though why he should have lefther all, and me nothing----"
Here Portia wept again.
Ware saw that Denham had arranged with Asher that her father's moneyshould pass to Anne. No doubt he had told the lawyer the whole historyof the imposture, and Asher would now take steps to place Anne inpossession of her fortune. But Denham had deceived Portia, probablybecause he wished the girl to think well of him after he was dead. Gilesresolved that he would not undeceive the girl.
"I'll see that things are made easy for you," he said. "Are you still atthe Priory?"
"There's nowhere else for me to go till I hear from Anne."
"Anne is in town. I'll write to her, and we'll see what can be done."
Portia rose to go, but she expressed no thanks for his kindness. "So youare to marry Anne," she said. "Well, I hope you'll be good to her."
"Don't you think I shall?"
Portia, in spite of her grief, tossed her head. "I don't know," shesaid; "all men are bad, except my father, who was very, very good," andshe looked defiantly at Giles as though challenging contradiction.
But Ware was too sorry for the girl to make any harsh remark. He walkedwith her to the outer door, and sent her away in a much more cheerfulmood. Then he returned to his study, and found Mrs. Morley alreadyseated near his desk. She looked ill and worn, but, in strange contrastto her usual custom, wore a colored gown, and evidently had been tryingto dress herself as gaily as possible. She saw the surprised look onGiles' face, and guessed its meaning.
"Yes, Mr. Ware," she said, plucking at her dress, "you see I have myholiday clothes on. Even though Oliver has left me, there is no need forme to go into mourning. No. He has deserted me basely. I am determinedto show the world that I don't care."
"Mrs. Morley, your husband is dead."
"Dead!" She half started from her chair, but sat down again with a whiteface. Then to Giles' horror sh
e began to laugh. He knew that Morley hadbeen a bad husband to the woman before him, but that she should laugh onhearing of his death, made him shiver. He hastily explained how Morleyhad met with his fate, and Mrs. Morley not only laughed again, butclapped her gloved hands.
"Dead!" she said quite gleefully. "Ah! he was lucky to the last."
Ware thought that the widow must be off her head to talk like this; butMrs. Morley was perfectly sane, and her exclamation was perfectlynatural, as he soon learned. She enlightened him in her next speech.
"Don't you call a man lucky," she said quietly, "who died like myhusband in the clean waves of the sea, instead of being hanged as hedeserved?"
"What do you mean?" asked the startled Giles.
"Can't you guess?" She drew a paper out of her pocket. "I came here togive you that, Mr. Ware. The confession of my wicked husband."
"Confession?"
"Yes. You will find it particularly interesting, Mr. Ware. It was mymiserable husband who murdered Daisy."
"Never!" gasped Giles, rising aghast. "He was in the library all thetime. You told----"
"I know what I told," she answered quickly. "I did so to save my namefrom shame; for the sake of my children I lied. Oliver did not deservethe mercy I showed him. Base to the last he deserted me. Now he is dead.I am glad to hear it." She paused and laughed. "I shall not change mydress, Mr. Ware."
"Don't, Mrs. Morley," he said, with a shudder.
"Not that name, if you please," she said, and noting her card on thedesk she tore it in two. Then opening her case she tore the other cardsand scattered them on the floor. "Mrs. Morley is no more. I am Mrs.Warton. That is the name of my first husband--my true husband--thefather of my three children. Yes, Mr. Ware, I have sold my furniture,and let The Elms. To-morrow I leave for the south of France with mychildren. I land in France as Mrs. Warton, and the old life is gone forever. Can you blame me?"
"From what I know of Morley I cannot," he stammered. "But what do youknow, Mrs. Mor--I mean Mrs. Warton?"
"I know everything. Listen, Mr. Ware. When Oliver married me I was inlove with him. I thought he loved me for myself. But it was my money hewas after. Some time after our marriage I found that he was a gambler.He lost all my money at cards. Fortunately there was a sum of a thousanda year settled on me which he could not touch, nor was he able to touchthe money left to my children. All the rest (and there was a great deal)he wheedled out of me and spent."
"I wonder you did not put an end to him long ago. I mean I should havethought you would separate from the scoundrel."
Mrs. Morley sighed. "I loved him," she said in low tones. "It took memany a long day to stamp that love out of my heart. I did all he wishedme to do. I took The Elms and obtained the guardianship of Daisy. Inever thought that he had any design in getting me to take her to livewith us. I was one of her father's oldest friends and loved the girl.Morley managed the affair in such a manner that I did what he wishedwithout knowing I was being coerced."
"Morley was a very clever man."
"And a wicked man," said his widow, without emotion. "I can only thinkof the way he behaved to me and mine. Daisy always hated him. I couldnever get her to like him. I don't know what he said or did to her--healways seemed to me to treat her with kindness--but she had an antipathyto him. He thought when she got the Powell money he would do what heliked with her and it. But when he saw she was hostile to him hedetermined then on her murder."
"You did not know that at the time?" said Giles breathlessly.
"No. Certainly I did not, or I should have sent the girl away. I am onlytalking by the light of recent events. When that man came to tell Morleyabout the death of Powell he knew that Daisy would leave the house andmarry you as soon as she got the fortune. He tried to induce Denham whenhe was in the library to kill Daisy, and took down the stiletto for thatpurpose. Denham refused. Then there was a man called Dane, who came witha message. Morley asked him likewise to kill the girl, and was likewiserefused. He saw there was nothing for it but to murder Daisy himself. Ina day or so it would have been too late, as she would hear about themoney and leave the house. Morley took the stiletto and went to thechurch in the hope of killing her when she came out and was amidst thecrowd of people. He hoped to escape unobserved."
"A rash idea!" observed Giles.
"Oh, its safety lay in its rashness," said the widow coldly. "Well, ithappened that Denham lured Daisy out of the church and did not followfor some time. Morley looking at the door saw her come out. She waitedfor a moment and then walked to her father's grave. Morley followed andkilled her by stabbing her in the back as she knelt in the snow by thegrave. She fell forward with a cry. He would have repeated the blow butthat he saw Denham coming. He fled back to the house. I was in thelibrary when he arrived. He made some excuse, and I never thoughtanything was wrong."
"Had he the stiletto with him?"
"I believe he had, but I did not see it. Afterwards he took the stilettoback to the churchyard and pretended to find it, so that Anne might beaccused. Denham never suspected Morley of the crime. Why, I don't know,as any one who knew what I have told you about his offers to Denham andDane must have guessed that Morley was guilty."
"How did you learn all this?" asked Giles, glancing at the confessionwhich was in Morley's own handwriting.
"At various times. I did not suspect him at first. But one thing led toanother and I watched him. I got at his papers and discovered all aboutthe Scarlet Cross, and----"
"Wait, Mrs. Morley--I mean Warton. Did Morley write that anonymousletter which accused Anne?"
"Yes. He did so, in case it was necessary to kill Daisy. He hoped byhinting beforehand that Anne would be accused. It was Anne's foolishspeech to Daisy, saying she would kill her, that gave him the idea. Butshe meant nothing by it. It was only a few hot words. However, Morleyused them to his own end. Well, Mr. Ware, I found out about the thievinggang, and then learned for the first time the kind of man I had married.My love died out of my heart at once. I took to thinking how I could getaway from him. He used to mutter in his sleep, having an uneasyconscience."
"I should think he was too strong a man to have a conscience."
"Well, he muttered in his sleep at all events. From what he said Idiscovered that he had something to do with the death of Daisy. Iaccused him, and told him that I knew all about his Scarlet Crosswickedness. He denied the truth of this at first. Afterwards, little bylittle, I got the truth out of him. I then made him write out thatconfession and sign it, so that I could save Anne should she be caught.I promised for the sake of my own name and my children not to use theconfession unless Anne was taken. That is why Morley ran away with Anne.He fancied that she would continue to bear the blame, and also"--hereMrs. Wharton hesitated and glanced at Giles--"I fancy that Oliver was inlove with Miss Denham."
"The scoundrel!" cried Giles furiously.
Mrs. Wharton--as she now called herself--laughed coldly and rose todepart. "I don't think it matters much now," she said. "Anne was notdrowned also, was she?"
"No," replied Ware, shuddering; "she is in London, and I hope shortly tomake her my wife."
"I wish her all happiness," said Mrs. Wharton, without emotion. "Ialways liked Anne, and for her sake I secured that confession. That,when published, will vindicate her character. You need have nohesitation in showing it to the police and in letting that detectivedeal with it as he thinks fit. In a few days I shall be in France underthe name of Mrs. Wharton, and the past will be dead to me. Good-bye."She held out her hand.
"Good-bye," answered Giles, shaking it heartily. "I trust you will behappy, Mrs. Wharton."
"I shall be at peace, if nothing else," she replied, and so passed fromthe room, and out of his life.
Giles showed the confession to Steel, who was delighted that the realculprit had at last been discovered. But he was sorely disappointed atthe suicide of Denham. "It spoils the case," he said.
"You are going to bring the matter into court, then," said Giles.
"Of course. I want some reward for my labor, Mr. Ware. I'll break upthat gang. I must publish this confession in order to save your futurewife from further blame. Not that it will matter much," he added, "forMiss Denham--I should rather say Miss Franklin--has gone to Styria withher mother and half-sister."
"I know," answered Giles quietly. "I join them there in a week."
"Well, Mr. Ware, I congratulate you, and I hope you'll have a good time.You deserve it from the way in which you have worked over this case."
"What about yourself, Steel?"
"Oh, I'm all right. Dane, Morley, and Denham are dead, which is a pity,as they are the chief villains of the play. Still, I'll contrive topunish those others and get some kudos out of the business. And I mustthank you, Mr. Ware, for that reward."
"It was Miss Anne's idea," replied Ware. "She will soon be put inpossession of her money, and asked me to give you the reward. It is halffrom her and half from me."
"And I believed her guilty," said Steel regretfully; "but I'll makeamends, Mr. Ware. I'll keep her name out of this business as much as Ican, consistently with the evidence."
Steel was as good as his word. The thieves were tried, but Anne was notmentioned in connection with their robberies. As regards the murder, theconfession of Morley was made public and every one knew that Anne wasguiltless. In fact, she was applauded for the way in which she hadhelped her supposed father to escape. The papers called the wholeepisode romantic, but the papers never knew the entire truth, nor thatAnne was the daughter of the Princess Karacsay. Not even Mrs. Parrylearned as much as she should have liked to learn. But what scraps ofinformation she did become possessed of, she wove into a thrilling storywhich fully maintained her reputation as a scandal-monger. And she wasalways Anne's friend, being particularly triumphant over the fact thatshe had never believed her to be guilty.
"And I hope," said Mrs. Parry generally, "that every one will believewhat I say in the future;" which every one afraid of her tonguepretended to do.
Giles and Anne were married from the castle of Prince Karacsay, inStyria. The Prince took a great fancy to Anne Franklin, and learned thetruth about her parentage. But this was not made public. It was simplysupposed that she was a young English lady who was the intimate friendof Princess Olga. But every one was surprised when the elder Princess atthe wedding threw over Anne's neck a magnificent necklace of uncutemerald. "It belonged to your father's mother, dear," whispered thePrincess as she kissed the bride.
Olga married Count Taroc, and settled down into the meekest of wives.Giles and Anne heard of the marriage while on their honeymoon in Italy.They had taken a villa at Sorrento and were seated out on the terracewhen the letter came, Anne expressed herself glad.
"And you are pleased too, dear," she said to Giles.
"Very pleased," he replied, with emphasis, whereat she laughed.
"I know why you are pleased," she said, in answer to his look. "Olgatold me how deeply she was in love with you. But her cure was as quickas her disease was virulent. She never would have harmed me, my dear.Olga was always fond of me--and of you."
Giles flushed and laughed.
"Well, it's all over now," he said, "and I am glad she is married. Butlet us talk about yourself. Are you happy after all your troubles,dearest?"
"Very happy, Giles. I regret nothing. Portia, thanks to you, is in agood home. But my poor father----"
"Don't call Denham that, Anne," he said, with a frown.
She kissed it away.
"He was always very good to me," she said. "I tried to save him, as youknow. I believed that he had killed Daisy by some mistake. But really,Giles, I did not stop to think. I knew that my--I mean Denham--was indanger of his life, and I could not rest until I had placed him insafety."
"And you defended him afterwards, Anne--that time we met in thechurchyard. You quite endorsed his story of the invented WalterFranklin."
"Don't reproach me, Giles. I had promised Denham to say what I did; andnot even for your dear sake could I break my word. He was a good man inmany ways; but, as you say yourself, it is all over. Let us forget himand his tragic end."
"And Morley's."
Anne shivered. "He was the worst. Oh, what a terrible time I had onboard that boat, when I found he was deceiving me. I thought he wastaking me to Denham, and I wanted to see what he--I mean Denham--wouldsay to my mother's statement. I thought he might be able to show that hewas not so bad as she----"
"Not another word," said Ware, taking her in his arms. "Let us leave theold bad past alone, and live in the present. See"--he took a parcel outof his pocket--"I have had this made for you."
Anne opened the package, and found therein the coin of Edward VII. setas a brooch and surrounded by brilliants.
"Oh, how delightful!" she said, with a true woman's appreciation ofpretty things.
"It is the dearest thing in the world to me, save you, Anne," he said."Twice that coin brought me to you. But for it I should never have beenby your side now."
"No!"
She kissed the coin again and fastened it at her throat, where itglittered a pretty, odd ornament.
"You waste your kisses," cried Giles, and took her to his breast.
+----------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's Note | | | |Inconsistencies in spelling have been retained| |as in the original. | +----------------------------------------------+
