Part 73 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: There is a flash--a loud report.]
They lay him gently down, and Jasper Lamotte bids them send for a physician; there must be one very near.
But Frank beckons his father to come close, and when the others have drawn back, this is what the father hears, from the son's lips:
”There is another--pistol in--my pocket--I meant it for Evan,--you--had better--use it.”
Horrible words from the lips of a dying son. They are his last. Before Doctor Benoit can turn back and reach his side, Frank Lamotte has finished his career of folly, and sin, and shame, dying as he had lived, selfishly, like a coward.
CHAPTER XLIV.
A SPARTAN MOTHER.
”I never before in all my career, brought to justice a criminal whom I both pitied unreservedly, and justified fully. Viewing all things from his standpoint, Evan Lamotte is less a murderer than a martyr.”
It is the day after the trial with so strange an ending. They are seated in O'Meara's library; Constance, Mrs. Aliston, Mrs. O'Meara, Sir Clifford, his brother, the Honorable George Heathercliffe, Ray Vandyck, O'Meara, and Mr. Bathurst. Mr. Bathurst, who now appears what he _is_; a handsome gentleman, about thirty years of age, clever, vivacious, eminently agreeable. Mr. Wedron, like Brooks, has served out his day, and been set aside.
They have a.s.sembled at the detective's request, and while fully expecting a revelation of some sort, they look a serene, and not an apprehensive party.
”Poor Evan,” sighs Constance; ”I pity him most sincerely; I shall go and see him.”
”_We_ will go and see him,” corrects Sir Clifford, and she smiles, and does not dispute the correction.
”Before I begin my other story,” says the detective, ”I may as well tell you of my visit yesterday, and how my news was received.
”From the moment when I heard Miss Wardour's description of Evan Lamotte, I knew he was our man. But I was determined to have no more mistakes. So I kept my opinion to myself. You can imagine how anxiously I hung upon the words of Doctor Benoit, knowing that upon this boy's chances for life hung Sir Clifford's life, liberty, and honor.
”When I saw that poor, pale, wreck of humanity, my heart almost failed me. How could I drag his secret from him? But no time was to be lost, and, as best I could, I told him everything. First, that his sister believed herself the guilty one; guilty, at least, in that she had instigated the deed, and next, that Sir Clifford was now the victim of this crime. His mind at once seemed to grasp the issue. He had listened to me intently, breathlessly almost; he now lifted himself suddenly from the bed, and said quickly:
”'Why, then, it seems I have not saved Sybil yet. Call my mother! let me see her alone.'
”I obeyed him without a question; they were alone together for a long half hour, then Mrs. Lamotte came to me with the same look upon her face that you saw in court.
”'Evan tells me that you know everything,' she said, her voice trembling in spite of herself. 'He tells me that you are a detective. Then you know that I have _one_ son of whom I may be proud. Evan Lamotte has saved his sister's honor. Saved it doubly. My weak, my ill-used Evan, has proven the only man a man's pride, who bears the name of Lamotte, because he could not see his sister and his mother contaminated by the presence of the monster his father and brother had been so base as to force upon us; he has taken justice into his own hands. He has freed his sister; he has saved her from crime, and now he stands ready to put himself in the place of a wronged and innocent man. I shall go with him into court; I shall not leave him again.'
”She broke off with a dry sob and turned away to prepare for the drive.
”How I pitied that proud woman. How tender she was of her lost boy, and how he clung to her.
”Mr. O'Meara,” turning suddenly toward the lawyer, ”we must get that poor fellow out of that cell. Doctor Benoit says that he can live but a short time at best. He must not die there, and justice can not deal with a dying man.”
”I think it can be managed,” replied the lawyer. ”All W---- will favor the scheme. Not a man or woman will raise their voice against that dying boy. He will have plenty of friends _now_.”
”He shall find them strong friends, too,” exclaimed Constance. ”Mrs.
O'Meara, we will stir up the whole town.”
”Then you'll get your way,” put in Bathurst. ”And now. Miss Wardour, are you ready to hear the end of the mystery surrounding the Wardour robbery, and the Wardour diamonds?”