Part 42 (1/2)

”Who is she?” asked the governess, pointing to this lady, who leant on the doctor's arm, and was trembling, as Miss Kingscott could see, although she could not distinguish her face. ”Who is she? No stranger has any business with him or me!”

”She has a right to be here,” answered the lawyer, as he rang the bell at the door of the sponging-house; ”you will soon know all.”

Miss Kingscott gazed searchingly at the stranger, and gave a start of half-amazement, half-terror; but the lawyer did not give her time to say anything. He asked for Markworth on the door being opened, and the Cerberus told him that he was upstairs in the private room, where he had given orders not to be disturbed.

Mr Trump said he was his lawyer. Cerberus knew his vocation very well, for Mr Trump had paid many visits to clients in Abednego's retirement before--and he was admitted after a little parley at the door, facilitated by the application of palm oil.

”He's upstairs on the second floor, the door right fronting you,”

shouted the man, after them. ”You'll be sure to find him at home,” he added, with a chuckle at his own joke.

The lawyer led the way up the dirty staircase, followed by Miss Kingscott: while the Doctor and the strange lady were close behind.

Arrived at the door of the room in which Markworth was, Mr Trump knocked in vain for some time. He at length turned, the handle, and the four visitors walked in unbidden.

Markworth was in the corner of the room: they could all see him.

The lawyer called out to him, but got no answer: he went up to him.

The man was dead!

Markworth was sitting in the same place where the governess had left him in his misery. His bowed head lay between his clasped hands: the sun had gone down now, and no longer shone upon him with its golden gleams: his sun also had sunk to rest!

The Doctor went forward and examined him. He had been dead more than an hour he said: cause--heart disease, probably brought on by strong excitement, or a sudden shock.

All were startled at this unexpected appearance of pale death; even his enemy and Nemesis relented as she gazed on the lifeless mask of him whom she had so ruthlessly pursued, and drew back in horror at what she had done.

But the stranger darted forward, and threw herself with a burst of grief on the motionless form of the dead man: sorrow and sympathy, friends.h.i.+p or hate, could no longer affect him now!

As she did so, the stranger threw aside her veil: and the face of the mourner was the face of Susan Hartshorne, whom the dead man had been accused of having murdered.

”Poor thing! poor thing!” murmured the doctor, as he turned away his head and walked towards the window to conceal his emotion. ”Bless my soul! It's a sad pity--a sad pity! But it is better as it is.”

Volume 3, Chapter XIII.

RETROSPECTIVE AND PROGRESSIONAL.

In order to explain Susan's reappearance under these exceptional circ.u.mstances, it will be necessary that we should retrace our steps and return to a date some months back in our narrative.

It will be remembered that when Doctor Jolly paid his visit to Havre in the previous winter, he, after enquiring unsuccessfully for Susan at the house of the Mere Cliquelle, in the Rue Montmartre, went off for a walk (to pa.s.s the time until his ward should return) in the very same direction that Markworth and Susan, with Clara Kingscott d.o.g.g.i.ng their heels, had taken--towards the heights of Ingouville.

The Doctor picked his steps carefully, for it was dusk, and he was in a strange place, and he wished to establish certain landmarks in his mind, by which he might regain the Rue Montmartre when his stroll was over, and he should think it time to return.

Doctor Jolly had the address of his hotel on a printed card in his pocket: he was not going to make another mistake, such as he had made earlier in the day; and if any doubts arose in his mind as to his exact lat.i.tude and longitude, he had resolved to hand the card of the hotel, which he had previously secured, to the nearest policeman or cabman.

Oh! the doctor was very 'cute and business-like.

But he did not wish to return there just yet. He wanted to see Susan, and have his mind set at rest about her before the night was over. And so the doctor walked on in a desultory way, carefully studying the topography of the street as he sauntered along, and pondering over recent events in his mind.

He was wondering at the chain of circ.u.mstances which had brought him wandering about ”this confounded foreign, outlandish place!” at nightfall, and ”in the depth of winter too, by Gad!” he soliloquised, as he inhaled the foggy air of the dull November night, which made him puff and wheeze beneath the comforter, which in remembrance of Deb's solicitude, he still kept carefully wrapped round his neck.

When he came to one of the roads leading up to the heights above, the doctor paused a moment to recover his breath; he had never been ”any great hand at walking,” as he would have told you himself; and the distance he had already traversed, short though it was, had by this time affected his wind.