The Big Book of Victorian Mysteries

by The Big Book of Victorian Mysteries (retail) (epub)

  “With the great Rocheville diamond feeling heavier than lead in my pocket, I went away the next morning with my husband. I had valuable jewels of my own, and have a jewel-case of unique pattern. It is kept in the strong room at the Castle. I obtained the key of the strong room from my husband, went down to the vaults, and under the pretence of putting some diamonds and sapphires away, locked up the Rocheville diamond in my own private jewel-case. It is impossible to steal it from there, owing to the peculiar construction of the lock of the case, which starts electric bells ringing the moment the key is put inside. Now listen, Mr. Head. Madame knows all about the strong room, for she has wormed its secrets from me. She knows that with all her cleverness she cannot pick that lock. She has, therefore, told me that unless I give her the Rocheville diamond to-night she will expose me. She declares that no entreaties will turn her from her purpose. She is like adamant, she has no heart at all. Her sweetness and graciousness, her pretended sympathy, are all on the surface. It is useless appealing to anything in her but her avarice. Fear!—she does not know the meaning of the word. Oh, what am I to do? I will not let her have the diamond, but how mad I was ever to yield to her.”

  I gazed at my companion for a few moments without speaking. The full meaning of her extraordinary story was at last made abundantly plain. The theft which had so completely puzzled Monsieur Röden was explained at last. What Carlton’s feelings would be when he knew the truth, it was impossible to realize; but know the truth he must, and as soon as possible. I was more than ever certain that Count Porcelli’s death was a reality, and that Madame was blackmailing the unfortunate young wife for her own purposes. But although I believed that such was assuredly the case, and that Mrs. Carlton had no real cause to dread dishonour to herself and her child, I had no means of proving my own belief. The moment had come to act, and to act promptly. Mrs. Carlton was overcome by the most terrible nervous fear, and had already got herself into the gravest danger by her theft of the diamond. She looked at me intently, and at last said, in a whisper:—

  “Whatever you may think of me, speak. I know you believe that I am one of the most guilty wretches in existence, but you can scarcely realize what my temptation has been.”

  “I sympathize with you, of course,” I said then; “but there is only one thing to be done. Now, may I speak quite plainly? I believe that Count Porcelli is dead. Madame is quite clever enough to forge letters which you would believe to be bonâ-fide. Remember that I know this woman well. She possesses consummate genius, and never yet owned to a scruple of any sort. It is only too plain that she reaps an enormous advantage by playing on your fears. You can never put things right, therefore, until you confide in your husband. Remember how enormous the danger is to him. He will not leave a stone unturned to come face to face with the Count. Madame will have to show her hand, and you will be saved. Will you take my advice: will you go to him immediately?”

  “I dare not, I dare not.”

  “Very well; you have another thing to consider. Monsieur Röden is determined to recover the stolen diamond. The cleverest members of the detective force are working day and night in his behalf. They are quite clever enough to trace the theft to you. You will be forced to open your jewel-case in their presence—just think of your feelings. Yes, Mrs. Carlton, believe me I am right: your husband must know all, the diamond must be returned to its rightful owner immediately.”

  She wrung her hands in agony.

  “I cannot tell my husband,” she replied. “I will find out some other means of getting rid of the diamond—even Madame had better have it than this. Think of the wreck of my complete life, think of the dishonour to my child. Mr. Head, I know you are kind, and I know your advice is really wise, but I cannot act on it. Madame has faithfully sworn to me that when she gets the Rocheville diamond she will leave the country for ever, and that I shall never hear of her again. Count Porcelli will accompany her.”

  “Do you believe this?” I asked.

  “In this special case I am inclined to believe her. I know that Madame has grown very anxious of late, and I am sure she feels that she is in extreme danger—she has dropped hints to that effect. She must have been sure that her position was a most unstable one when she refused to communicate the burglary in Welbeck Street to the police. But, hark! I hear footsteps. Who is coming?”

  Mrs. Carlton bent forward and peered through the brushwood.

  “I possess the most deadly fear of that woman,” she continued; “even now she may be watching us—that headache may have been all a pretence. God knows what will become of me if she discovers that I have confided in you. Don’t let it seem that we have been talking about anything special. Go on with your shooting. We are getting too far away from the others.”

  She had scarcely said the words before I saw in the distance Mme. Koluchy approaching. She was walking slowly, with that graceful motion which invariably characterized her steps. Her eyes were fixed on the ground, her face looked thoughtful.

  “What are we to do?” said Mrs. Carlton.

  “You have nothing to do at the present moment,” I replied, “but to keep up your courage. As to what you are to do in the immediate future, I must see you again. What you have told me requires immediate action. I swear I will save you and get you out of this scrape at any cost.”

  “Oh, how good you are,” she answered; “but do go on with your shooting. Madame can read anyone through, and my face bears signs of agitation.”

  Just at that moment a great cock pheasant came beating through the boughs overhead. I glanced at Mrs. Carlton, noticed her extreme pallor, and then almost recklessly raised my gun and fired. This was the first time I had used the gun since luncheon. What was the matter? I had an instant, just one brief instant, to realize that there was something wrong—there was a deafening roar—a flash as if a thousand sparks came before my eyes—I reeled and fell, and a great darkness closed over me.

  * * *

  —

  Out of an oblivion that might have been eternity, a dawning sense of consciousness came to me. I opened my eyes. The face of Dufrayer was bending over me.

  “Hush!” he said, “keep quiet, Head. Doctor,” he added, “he has come to himself at last.”

  A young man, with a bright, intelligent face, approached my side. “Ah! you feel better?” he said. “That is right, but you must keep quiet. Drink this.”

  He raised a glass to my lips. I drank thirstily. I noticed now that my left hand and arm were in a splint, bandaged to my side.

  “What can have happened?” I exclaimed. I had scarcely uttered the words before memory came back to me in a flash.

  “You have had a bad accident,” said Dufrayer; “your gun burst.”

  “Burst!” I cried. “Impossible.”

  “It is only too true; you have had a marvellous escape of your life, and your left hand and arm are injured.”

  “Dufrayer,” I said at once, and eagerly, “I must see you alone. Will you ask the doctor to leave us?”

  “I will be within call, Mr. Dufrayer,” said the medical man. He went into the anteroom. I was feverish, and I knew it, but my one effort was to keep full consciousness until I had spoken to Dufrayer.

  “I must get up at once,” I cried. “I feel all right, only a little queer about the head, but that is nothing. Is my hand much damaged?”

  “It is badly injured,” replied Dufrayer.

  “But how could the gun have burst,” I continued. “It was one of Riley’s make, and worth seventy guineas.”

  I had scarcely said the last words, before a hideous thought flashed across me. Dufrayer spoke instantly, answering my surmise.

  “I have examined your gun carefully—at least, what was left of it,” he said, “and there is not the slightest doubt that the explosion was not caused by an ordinary cartridge. The stock and barrels are blown to fragments. The marvel is that you were not killed
on the spot.”

  “It is easy to guess who has done the mischief,” I replied.

  “At least one fact is abundantly clear,” said Dufrayer, “your gun was tampered with, probably during the luncheon interval. I have been making inquiries, and believe that one of the beaters knows something, only I have not got him yet to confess. I have also made a close examination of the ground where you stood, and have picked up a small piece of the brasswork of a cartridge. Matters are so grave that I have wired to Tyler and Ford, and they will both be here in the morning. My impression is that we shall soon have got sufficient evidence to arrest Madame. It goes without saying that this is her work. This is the second time she has tried to get rid of you; and, happen what may, the thing must be stopped. But I must not worry you any further at present, for the shock you have sustained has been fearful.”

  “Am I badly hurt?” I asked.

  “Fortunately you are only cut a little about the face, and your eyes have altogether escaped. Dynamite always expends its force downwards.”

  “Are the other injuries grave?”

  Dufrayer hesitated, then he said, slowly:—

  “You may as well know the truth. From what the doctor tells me, I fear you will never have the use of your left hand again.”

  “Better that than the eyes,” I answered. “Now, Dufrayer, I have just received some important information from Mrs. Carlton. It was told to me under a seal of the deepest secrecy, and even now I must not tell you what she has confided to me without her permission. Would it be possible to get her to come to see me for a moment?”

  “I am sure she will come, and gladly. She seems to be in a terrible state of nervous prostration. You know, she was on the scene when the accident happened. When I appeared I found her in a half-fainting condition, supported, of course, by Mme. Koluchy, whom she seemed to shrink from in the most unmistakable manner. Yes, I will send her to you, but I do not think the doctor will allow you to talk long.”

  “Never mind about the doctor or anyone else,” I replied; “let me see Mrs. Carlton—there is not an instant to lose.”

  Dufrayer saw by my manner that I was frightfully excited. He left the room at once, and in a few moments Mrs. Carlton came in. Even in the midst of my own pain I could not but remark with consternation the look of agony on her face. She was trembling so excessively that she could scarcely stand.

  “Will you do something for me?” I said, in a whisper. I was getting rapidly weaker, and even my powers of speech were failing me.

  “Anything in my power,” she said, “except——”

  “But I want no exceptions,” I said. “I have nearly lost my life. I am speaking to you now almost with the solemnity of a dying man. I want you to go straight to your husband and tell him all.”

  “No, no, no!” She turned away. Her face was whiter than the white dress which she was wearing.

  “Then if you will not confide in him, tell all that you have just told me to my friend Dufrayer. He is a lawyer, well accustomed to hearing stories of distress and horror. He will advise you. Will you at least do that?”

  “I cannot.” Her voice was hoarse with emotion, then she said, in a whisper:—

  “I am more terrified than ever, for I cannot find the key of my jewel-case.”

  “This makes matters still graver, although I believe that even Mme. Koluchy cannot tamper with the strong room. You will tell your husband or Dufrayer—promise me that, and I shall rest happy.”

  “I cannot, Mr. Head; and you, on your part, have promised not to reveal my secret.”

  “You put me in a most cruel dilemma,” I replied.

  Just then the doctor came into the room, accompanied by Carlton.

  “Come, come,” said the medical man, “Mr. Head, you are exciting yourself. I am afraid, Mrs. Carlton, I must ask you to leave my patient. Absolute quiet is essential. Fortunately the injuries to the face are trivial, but the shock to the system has been considerable, and fever may set in unless quiet is enforced.”

  “Come, Nora,” said her husband; “you ought to rest yourself, my dear, for you look very bad.”

  As they were leaving the room I motioned Dufrayer to my side.

  “Go to Mrs. Carlton,” I said; “she has something to say of the utmost importance. Tell her that you know she possesses a secret, that I have not told you what it is, but that I have implored of her to take you into her confidence.”

  “I will do so,” he replied.

  Late that evening he came back to me.

  “Well?” I cried, eagerly.

  “Mrs. Carlton is too ill to be pressed any further, Head; she has been obliged to go to her room, and the doctor has been with her. He prescribed a soothing draught. Her husband is very much puzzled at her condition. You look anything but fit yourself, old man,” he continued. “You must go to sleep now. Whatever part Madame has played in this tragedy, she is keeping up appearances with her usual aplomb. There was not a more brilliant member of the dinner party to-night than she. She has been inquiring with apparent sympathy for you, and offered to come and see you if that would mend matters. Of course, I told her that the doctor would not allow any visitors. Now you must take your sleeping draught, and trust for the best. I am following up the clue of the gun, and believe that it only requires a little persuasion to get some really important evidence from one of the beaters; but more of this to-morrow. You must sleep now, Head, you must sleep.”

  The shock I had undergone, and the intense pain in my arm which began about this time to come on, told even upon my strong frame. Dufrayer poured out a sleeping draught which the doctor had sent round—I drank it off, and soon afterwards he left me.

  An hour or two passed; at the end of that time the draught began to take effect, drowsiness stole over me, the pain grew less, and I fell into an uneasy sleep, broken with hideous and grotesque dreams. From one of these I awoke with a start, struck a match, and looked at my watch. It was half-past three. The house had of course long ago retired to rest, and everything was intensely still. I could hear in the distance the monotonous ticking of the great clock in the hall, but no other sound reached my ears. My feverish brain, however, was actively working. The phantasmagoria of my dream seemed to take life and shape. Fantastic forms seemed to hover round my bed, and faces sinister with evil appeared to me—each one bore a likeness to Mme. Koluchy. I became more and more feverish, and now a deadly fear that even at this moment something awful was happening began to assail me. It rose to a conviction. Madame, with her almost superhuman knowledge, must guess that she was in danger. Surely, she would not allow the night to go by without acting? Surely, while we were supposed to sleep, she would steal the Rocheville diamond, and escape?

  The horror of this thought was so over-powering that I could stay still no longer. I flung off the bed-clothes and sprang from the bed. A delirious excitement was consuming me. Putting on my dressing-gown, I crept out on to the landing, then I silently went down the great staircase, crossed the hall, and, turning to the left, went down another passage to the door of the stone stairs leading to the vault in which was Carlton’s strong room. I had no sooner reached this door than my terrors and nervous fears became certainties.

  A gleam of light broke the darkness. I drew back into a recess in the stonework. Yes, I was right. My terrors and convictions of coming peril had not visited me without cause, for standing before the iron door of the strong room was Mme. Koluchy herself. There was a lighted taper in her hand. My bare feet had made no noise, and she was unaware of my presence. What was she doing? I waited in silence—my temples were hot and throbbing with overmastering horror. I listened for the bells which would give the alarm directly she inserted the key in the iron door. She was doing something to the safe—I could tell this by the noise she was making—still no bells rang.

  The next instant the heavy door slipped back on its hinges, and Madame ente
red. The moment I saw this I could remain quiet no longer. I sprang forward, striking my wounded arm against something in the darkness. She turned and saw me—I made a frantic effort to seize her—then my brain swam and every atom of strength left me. I found myself falling upon something hard. I had entered the strong room. For a moment I lay on the floor half stunned, then I sprang to my feet, but I was too late. The iron door closed upon me with a muffled clang. Madame had by some miraculous means opened the safe without a key, had taken the diamond from Mrs. Carlton’s jewel-case which stood open on a shelf, and had locked me a prisoner within. Half delirious and stunned, I had fallen an easy victim. I shouted loudly, but the closeness of my prison muffled and stifled my voice.

  How long I remained in captivity I cannot tell. The pain in my arm, much increased by my sudden fall on the hard floor, rendered me, I believe, partly delirious—I was feeling faint and chilled to the bone when the door of the strong room at last was opened, and Carlton and Dufrayer entered. I noticed immediately that there was daylight outside; the night was over.

  “We have been looking for you everywhere,” said Dufrayer. “What in the name of fortune has happened? How did you get in here?”

  “In pursuit of Madame,” I replied. “But where is she? For Heaven’s sake, tell me quickly.”

  “Bolted, of course,” answered Dufrayer, in a gloomy voice; “but tell us what this means, Head. You shall hear what we have to say afterwards.”

  I told my story in a few words.

  “But how, in the name of all that’s wonderful, did she manage to open the safe without a key?” cried Carlton. “This is black art with a vengeance.”