Part 40 (2/2)
”The young man's acquaintance with Lolita and Marigold accounts, I suppose, for his having watched my movements in London!” remarked the Earl.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
THE TRUTH.
”You see,” Logan went on, ”Lady Stanchester feared the revelation which the young valet could make concerning her, therefore, knowing that Lady Lolita was in the habit of writing to him in cipher and that they had arranged to meet that night in the park, she saw that if she killed him suspicion must be thrown upon her husband's sister. Besides, she was believed to be still at Aix, the only person having knowledge of her secret presence in London being Marie, with whom she had an interview that very day. Judge her dismay, therefore, when at the moment of the committal of the crime she came face to face with Marie herself, her bitterest enemy! Only a gasp of surprise escaped the mouths of both women. They glared into each other's faces, and while the Countess knew that her terrible secret was not her own, Marie Lejeune saw gloatingly that her power over the wealthy woman was now that of life or death. It was not to the Frenchwoman's interest to tell the truth to the police while Lady Stanchester submitted to blackmail, therefore in this second case, as in the first, the facts against Lady Lolita were sufficiently circ.u.mstantial to secure her conviction, and more especially that she held the knife in her hand when I had encountered her at the scene of the crime.”
”But surely you told Lady Lolita that you were satisfied that the charge against her was a false one?” I asked.
”Certainly I did--after Marie Lejeune had told me the truth. I did not, however, tell her who was the actual a.s.sa.s.sin, as Marie would not allow me. Nevertheless in neither case could her actual innocence be proved unless Marie Lejeune spoke the truth--and this she refused to do, first because she must by so doing implicate herself; and secondly that she would then lose the power for blackmail which she had established with such devilish ingenuity. It was true, as Lady Lolita declared to me, she was their victim--and to drive her to self-destruction was equally their object--in order to save themselves.”
The Earl stood listening to the terrible allegations against his wife, scarcely moving a muscle of his features.
”From the moment of Wingfield's death Lady Stanchester, against whom the French police held a warrant for her implication in certain frauds of the gang, was entirely in the Frenchwoman's unscrupulous hands,” Logan continued, ”but knowing Lady Lolita's peril, and sympathising with her-- the unconscious victim of the evil deeds of both these women--I took her side against them and joined myself in secret with Mr Keene, although at the time I was still allied with them.
”Keene also joined us, but with a view to freeing Lady Lolita from the false charges against her. He knew the truth regarding Lady Stanchester, and with us sought concealment in a farm in the vicinity, our object being to keep observation upon the movements of the Countess.
We should have remained longer, had it not been for the jealousy of Belotto, who one night attacked Marie Lejeune and we were compelled to call in a doctor. Moreover we were compelled, owing to that, to escape abroad again. After a short time, however, the Countess--still compelled to submit to blackmail heavily and even to give some of her jewellery in lieu of money, and living in daily terror that the Frenchwoman should give secret information to the police regarding the a.s.sa.s.sination of Wingfield--wrote to me in Lucerne expressing a desire to meet Marie again, and come to some amicable arrangement with her. I arranged the meeting, came to London, and escorted Lady Stanchester to Milan. By some means Mr Woodhouse obtained knowledge of her intention and follow us. Perhaps he will tell you what occurred.”
”Certainly,” I said. And then I related the result of my vigilance, and the adventure which subsequently happened to me.
”You were struck down by a man whom Marie had on watch outside the house and carried into the place afterwards,” explained Logan, when I had concluded my narrative.
”Why Marie received us in the apartment that was not her own,” he continued, ”was in order that the Countess should not afterwards be able to inform the police of her whereabouts. She invited Lady Stanchester and ourselves to supper, when a fresh and very ingenious scheme of fraud upon jewellers in Paris, in which she intended to compel her ladys.h.i.+p to take part, was discussed. Presently the two women quarrelled, mutual recriminations followed, whereupon Marie openly accused her visitor of Wingfield's murder and threatened that if she refused her a.s.sistance in this new scheme she intended to denounce her. Scarcely, however, had the Frenchwoman uttered these words when Lady Stanchester rose suddenly, drew a knife, and stabbed her to the heart while she sat at table. For a moment we all sat dumbfounded and horrified. Then the question arose how best to dispose of the body. The man who had driven us there was one of our accomplices, therefore it was resolved to drive out about two miles, and place it in the ca.n.a.l.
”While they carried it out I was to remain behind, to remove all trace of the crime. The murderess sat motionless in the corner of the room, appalled by her own deed. Judge my surprise, however, when, a few minutes later, the body of Marie was brought back again, and then Mr Woodhouse, whom we all believed to be here, at Sibberton, was carried in! He was placed in such a position that whoever discovered the tragedy would believe that he was the murderer. The guilty woman screamed aloud when her eyes fell upon her husband's secretary, saying, `Strike him again! Make certain he's dead, or he will tell the truth-- he will expose me!' But we dragged her away, and two hours afterwards I sat with her in the Bale express, travelling towards London.
”To-night I came down here to see her in secret, in order to plead with her to release Lady Lolita from the terrible thraldom of suspicion--yet it seems that in order to save herself she had actually uttered the false charges to her husband. Had I not met Lady Lolita in the pleasure-grounds to-night, she would, ere this, have been driven to the last extremity.”
”Ah!” I cried, standing aghast at the extraordinary story, ”it is, indeed, the hand of Providence that has directed your presence here to-night, Mr Logan. You have, if nothing else, made atonement for the part you yourself played in the affair, by coming forward and exposing a guilty woman and saving from death one who is pure, innocent and long-suffering--the woman I love.”
Lady Lolita grasped my hand tightly, but no word pa.s.sed her quivering lips.
Keene, however, said--
”Although Lady Lolita looked upon me as her enemy from the first, I was, in reality, her friend. I allied myself with Mr Logan and the two Italians in order to discover their intrigue and to save her ladys.h.i.+p.”
”And you have done so,” Lolita declared. ”I can never sufficiently thank either you or Mr Logan. You have, moreover, saved me from the sin of self-destruction,” she faltered, and then she burst into tears.
”And you?” cried the Earl, in anger and loathing, turning upon his statuesque wife who stood there, erect, immovable, as though turned to stone. ”And you, woman!--What have you to reply to all this?”
Her white lips moved, but no sound escaped them. She tried to speak--to deny the truth, perhaps, but words failed her. She raised her hand, moved slightly, then, staggering, fell forward heavily without a hand to save her.
So painful, so terrible, so dramatic was that scene between husband and wife that we all of us withdrew and have ever since been trying to efface it from our recollections.
Thus was the awful truth revealed that the woman whom half London envied had committed a second murder in order to conceal the first, and that she had actually gone out to Milan with the distinct and premeditated object of taking the Frenchwoman's life.
Never till my dying day shall I forget those terrible moments when before our eyes the love of the Earl of Stanchester turned to hatred, and when he spurned her senseless body with his foot as he turned from her in disgust and left the Hall. I will not attempt to describe it--it was far too painful, too terrible, too awful to be placed upon record.
Would that it could for ever be wiped from the tablets of my memory.
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