Part 25 (1/2)

”Indeed,” sneered Franklin; ”then he is more honest than I gave him credit for being. Because if he had not paid you I should have done so.

You seem to be a decent woman and----”

”A widow!” murmured Mrs. Benker, hoping that he would give her some money. But this Mr. Franklin had no intention of doing.

”You can go now,” he said, pointing with his stick towards an ornamental bridge; ”that is the best way to the high-road. And, Mrs. Benker, if my brother should return to you let me know.”

”And the police, sir,” she faltered.

”I'll tell the police myself,” said the man, frowning. ”Good day.”

Mrs. Benker, rather disappointed that she should have received no money, and wis.h.i.+ng that she had said Walter Franklin had not paid her rent, crept off, a lugubrious figure, across the bridge. Franklin watched her till she was out of sight, then took off his hat, exposing a high, baldish head. His face was dark, and he began to mutter to himself.

Finally, he spoke articulately.

”Am I never to be rid of that scamp?” he said, shaking his fist at the sky. ”I have lived in Italy--in exile, so that I should not be troubled with his schemes and rascalities. I have buried myself here, with my daughter and those three who are faithful to me, in order that he may not find me out. And now I hear of him. That woman. She is a spy of his.

I believe she came here from him with a made-up story. Walter will come, and then I'll have to buy him off. I shall be glad to do so. But to be blackmailed by that reptile. No! I'll go back to Florence first.” He replaced his hat and began to dig his stick in the ground. ”I wonder if Morley would help me. He is a shrewd man. He might advise me how to deal with this wretched brother of mine. If I could only trust him?” He looked round. ”I wonder where he is? He promised to meet me half an hour ago.” Here Franklin glanced at his watch. ”I'll walk over to The Elms and ask who this woman, Mrs. Benker, is. He may know.”

All this was delivered audibly and at intervals. Giles was not astonished, as he knew from Mrs. Parry that the man was in the habit of talking aloud to himself. But he was disappointed to receive such a clear proof that Franklin was not the man who had eloped with Anne. Even if he had been deceiving Mrs. Benker (which was not to be thought of), he would scarcely have spoken in soliloquy as he did if he had not been the man he a.s.serted himself to be. Giles, saying nothing to his companion, watched Franklin in silence until he was out of sight, and then rose to stretch his long legs, Morley, with a groan, followed his example. It was he who spoke first.

”I am half dead with the cramp,” said he, rubbing his stout leg, ”just like old times when I hid in a cupboard at Mother Meddlers, to hear Black Bill give himself away over a burglary. Ay, and I nearly sneezed that time, which would have cost me my life. I have been safe enough in that summer-house--but the cramp--owch!”

”It seems I have been mistaken,” was all Giles could say.

”So have I, so was Mrs. Benker. We are all in the same box. The man is evidently very like his scamp of a brother.”

”No doubt, Morley. But he isn't the brother himself.”

”More's the pity, for Franklin's sake as well as our own. He seems to hate his brother fairly and would be willing to give him up to the law--if he's done anything.”

”Well,” said Ware, beginning to walk, ”this Walter Franklin--to give him his real name--has committed murder. I am more convinced than ever that he is the guilty person. But I don't see what he has to do with Anne.

Her father is certainly dead--died at Florence. Ha! Morley. Franklin comes from Florence. He may know--he may have heard.”

Morley nodded. ”You're quite right, Ware. I'll ask him about the matter.

Humph!” The ex-detective stopped for a moment. ”This involuntary confession clears George Franklin.”

”Yes. He is innocent enough.”

”Well, but he inherited the money,” said Morley. ”It's queer that his brother, according to you, should have killed the girl who kept the fortune from him.”

”It is strange. But it might be that Walter Franklin intended to play the part of his brother and get the money, counting on the resemblance between them.”

”That's true enough. Yet if George were in Italy and within hail, so to speak, I don't see how that would have done. Why not come to The Elms with me and speak to Franklin yourself? He will be waiting for me there.”

”No,” answered Ware after some thought, ”he evidently intends to trust you, and if I come he may hold his tongue. You draw him out, Morley, and then you can tell me. Mrs. Benker----”

”I'll say nothing about her. I am not supposed to know that she is a visitor to Rickwell. He'll suspect our game if I chatter about her, Ware. We must be cautious. This is a difficult skein to unravel.”

”It is that,” a.s.sented Giles dolefully, ”and we're no further on with it than we were before.”