Part 8 (1/2)
”But the night is dark--the snow is falling. You will not be able to do anything. Be advised, and----”
”No. I'll come with you now. If I find nothing, it is all the better for her. If I do----” He shook his hand again fiercely.
Drake argued no longer, seeing that the man's brain was in such a state that it was best to humor him. They went out together, but at the church-gate Drake excused himself and retired to his home. He had no wish to see Morley groping amongst the graves like a ghost. Pausing until the little man disappeared into the gloom, the rector went to his house, wondering at the sudden change in Morley's character. He had been a light-hearted and rather frivolous creature; fond of gaiety and overflowing with the milk of human kindness. Now he was fierce and savage enough for a Caliban. ”He must have loved that poor girl very dearly,” sighed Drake, ”but I can't believe that such a charming woman as Miss Denham committed so cruel a crime. There is some mystery about this,” and in this last speech he was right. There was a mystery about the death, and a much deeper one than a shallow man like the rector could fathom.
All through the long night Mrs. Morley watched by the dead. She had placed candles on either side of the bed, and laid a cross on the poor child's breast. Drake was quite shocked when he saw this Papistical arrangement. But it afterwards came out that Mrs. Morley had been educated in a convent, and had imbibed certain notions of the Romish ritual for the dead that, her memory reviving, made her act thus, in spite of her openly confessed belief in the communion of the English Church. While she was thus sitting and weeping, Morley looked in. He was wild and haggard, but in his eyes glared a triumphant expression which terrified his wife. She did not dare to move. He crossed the room, and looked at the body. ”You shall be avenged, my dear,” he said solemnly, and before Mrs. Morley could recover from her surprise and denounce this ill-chosen moment for a visit, he wheeled round and disappeared.
He did not retire either, no more did the servants, who were collected in the kitchen steadying their nerves with tea. So it happened that when Giles, weary, wet, and worn, rode up to the door in the morning on a jaded beast, he was met by Morley.
”Have you caught her?” asked the man.
Giles dismounted and threw the reins to a groom. ”No. Trim went one way and I another. Where he is I don't know, but my horse gave in, and I returned.” He entered the house. ”Where is the body?” he asked.
”Up in the room it occupied during life,” said Morley; ”but come into the library, I have something to show you.”
Ware followed and sank wearily into a chair. He could scarcely keep his eyes open. Nevertheless he started up wide awake when his host spoke.
”Miss Denham killed Daisy,” said Morley. ”She took a stiletto from the wall yonder, and here it is.” He produced it with a dramatic wave.
”Where did you find it?”
”Beside the grave--on the spot of the murder.”
CHAPTER VI
THE CASE AGAINST ANNE
The contradictory qualities of Mrs. Parry's nature came out strongly in connection with the Rickwell tragedy. When Miss Denham was prosperous the old woman had nothing but bad to say of her, now that she was a fugitive and generally credited with a crime, Mrs. Parry stood up for her stoutly. She made herself acquainted with all details, and delivered her verdict to Mrs. Morley, on whom she called for the express purpose of giving her opinion.
”I never liked the woman,” she said impressively, ”she was artful and frivolous; and to gain admiration behaved in a brazen way of which I thoroughly disapproved. All the same, I do not believe she killed the girl.”
”But the evidence is strongly against her,” expostulated Mrs. Morley.
”And how many people have been hanged on evidence which has afterwards been proved incorrect?” retorted Mrs. Parry. ”I don't care how certain they are of her guilt. In my opinion she is an innocent woman. I am glad she has escaped.”
”I am not sorry myself,” sighed the other. ”I was fond of Anne, for she had many good points. But Mr. Steel says----”
”Who is Mr. Steel?”
”The detective who has charge of the case.”
”I thought the police from Chelmsford had it in hand.”
”Of course, Mr. Morley sent for the police the morning after poor Daisy's death. That is three days ago. To-morrow the inquest is to be held. I suppose they will bring a verdict against poor Miss Denham.”
”Ha!” said Mrs. Parry, rubbing her nose, ”and my greengrocer is on the jury. Much he knows about the matter. But this Steel creature. Where does he come from?”
”Mr. Morley sent to London for him. He has a private inquiry office, I believe.”