Part 42 (2/2)

MY DEAR PETER GANNS: You will have heard of Pendean's confession and message to you; but you may not have read full details as they concern you personally. I inclose his gift; and it is safe to bet that neither you nor any man will henceforth possess anything more remarkable. He made a will in prison and the law decides that I inherit his personal estate; but you will not be surprised to learn that I have handed it over to the police orphanages of my country and yours in equal proportions.

The facts are these. As the day approached for his execution, extraordinary precautions were taken, but Pendean behaved with utmost restraint, gave no trouble and made no threat. Having completed his written statement, he asked to be permitted to copy it on a type-writer, but leave to do so was not granted.

He kept the communication on his person and he was promised that no attempt to read it should be made until after his execution. Indeed he received this undertaking before he put pen to paper. He preserved a quiet and orderly manner, ate well, took exercise with his guards and smoked many cigarettes.

I may mention that the body of Robert Redmayne was found where he buried it; but the tides have deflected the beach gravels of Bendigo's grave and search there has revealed nothing.

Upon his last night but one, Pendean retired as usual and apparently slept for some hours with the bedclothes up to his face. A warder sat on each side of him and a light was burning.

Suddenly he gave a sigh and held out his hand to the man on his right.

”See that goes to Peter Ganns--it is my legacy,” he said. ”And remember that Mark Brendon is my heir.” He then put a small object into the warder's hand. At the same time he apparently suffered a tremendous physical convulsion, uttered one groan and leaped up into a sitting position. From this he fell forward unconscious. One attendant supported him and the other ran for the prison surgeon. But Pendean was already dead--poisoned with cyanide of pota.s.sium.

You will remember two facts which might have thrown light upon his secret. The first was his accident in Italy as a youth; the second your constant interest in a peculiar, inhuman quality of his expression which you were never able to understand. Both are now explained. With ordinary eyes the secret would have doubtless been swiftly discovered by us. But in his case, so dark were they, that pupil and iris were almost the same colour and hence our failure to explain the artificial mystery of his glance. He had, of course, a secret receptacle upon his person beyond human knowledge or power of discovery, for he says that only his mother knew of his accident. That accident was the loss of an eye. Behind an eye of gla.s.s that took its place had lain concealed, until he required it, the capsule of poison found crushed within his mouth after death.

What the published statement of this knave has done for me you will guess. I am leaving the detective service and have found other occupation. One can only seek to live down my awful experience. Next year my work will bring me to America and, when that happens, I shall be very glad to see you again should you permit me to do so--not that we may speak of the past, with all its futility and bitterness for me, but that we may look forward, and that I may see all is well with you in your days of retirement, honour and ease. Until then I subscribe myself, your admirer and faithful friend,

MARK BRENDON.

Peter opened his parcel.

It contained an eye made of gla.s.s and very exquisitely fas.h.i.+oned to imitate reality. Its prevailing darkness had prevented the truth from appearing, and yet, perfect though it was in l.u.s.tre and pigment, the false thing had given to Pendean's expression a quality that never failed to disturb Peter. It was not sinister, yet he remembered no such cast of countenance within his experience.

Mr. Ganns turned over the little object that had so often met his inquiring gaze.

”A rare crook,” he said aloud; ”but he is right: his wife was greater than either of us. If he'd listened to her and not his own vainglory, both could be alive and flouris.h.i.+ng yet.”

The dark brown eye seemed to stare up at him with a human twinkle as he brought out his gold snuffbox and took a pinch.

BY EDEN PHILLPOTTS

EUDOCIA

EVANDER

PLAIN SONG

GREEN ALLEYS

ORPHAN DINAH

MISER'S MONEY

THE GREY ROOM

CHILDREN OF MEN

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