Part 93 (1/2)

Edwards glanced at the trembling scrawl with a slight s.h.i.+ver; the handwriting was the same as that he had received half an hour before.

”It is only Article V.,” he said. ”The poor fellow used to keep repeating that, after Calabressa and I taught him in Venice.”

”But what is written below?”

Edwards forced himself to take the paper in his hands, and to scan more carefully its contents.

”It is Russian,” he said, ”but so badly written. '_My life is not endurable longer, but I shall die happy in being of service to the beautiful angel who was kind to me. Tell her she need not be in trouble any more. I forgive Pavel Michaieloff, as my masters desire. I do not wish my wife or my neighbors to know what I have done._'”

”This we have no right to meddle with,” Brand said, thoughtfully. ”I will put it back where I got it. But you see, Edwards, you will have to admit that you were aware this poor wretch was in communication with some secret society or other. Further than that you need say nothing.

The cause of his suicide is clear enough; the man was mad when he came to England with that wild craving for revenge in his brain.”

Brand carried the paper up-stairs again, and placed it where he had found it. At the same moment there was a sound of footsteps below; and presently the police-officers, accompanied by the landlady and by Gathorne Edwards, who had somewhat recovered his composure, entered to hold their preliminary investigation. The notes that the inspector took down in his pocket-book were brief enough, and were mostly answers to questions addressed to Brand, regarding what he knew of the deceased man's circ.u.mstances. The police-surgeon had meanwhile had the body placed on the bed; he also was of opinion that the man had been dead some hours. Edwards translated for the inspector the writing on the paper found lying there, and said he believed Kirski had some connection with a secret society, but that it was obvious he had destroyed himself from despair; and that, indeed, the unhappy man had never been properly right in his mind since ever he had known him, though they had hoped, by getting him to do steady work and sure wages, to wean him away from brooding over the wrongs that had driven him from his native country.

Edwards gave the officer his address, Brand saying that he had to leave England that same night, and would not be available for any further inquiry, but that his friend knew precisely as much about the case as himself. Then he and his companion left.

Edwards breathed more freely when he got out of the house, even into the murky atmosphere of Soho.

”It is a tragic end,” he said, ”but perhaps it is the best that could have befallen him. I called yesterday at the shop, and found he was there, and sober, though I did not see him. I was surprised to find he had gone back.”

”I thought he had solemnly promised you not to drink any more,” Brand said.

”He had made the same promises before. He took to drink merely to forget--to drown this thing that was working in his brain. If he had lived, it would have been the old story over again. He would have buried the portrait in St. James's Park, as he did before, gone back to the gin-shop, and in course of time drank himself to death. This end is terrible enough, but there is a touch of something fine about it--it redeems much. What a wors.h.i.+p the poor fellow had for Miss Lind, to be sure; because she was kind to him when he was half mad with his wrongs.

I remember he used to go about the churches in Venice to see if any of the saints in the pictures were like her, but none satisfied him. You will send her a message of what he has done to repay her at last?”

”I will take it myself,” said Brand, hastily. ”I must go, Edwards. You must get ---- or ---- to come to these chambers--any one you may think of.

I must go myself, and at once.”

”To-night, then?”

”Yes, to-night. It is a pity I troubled Evelyn to go.”

”He would stay a day, perhaps two days, in Genoa. It is just possible you might overtake him by going straight through.”

”Yes,” said Brand, with a strange smile on his face, as if he were looking at something far away, and it was scarcely to his companion that he spoke, ”I think I will go straight through. I should not like any one but myself to take Natalie this news.”

They walked back to the chambers, and Brand began to put things in order for his going.

”It is rather a shame,” he said, during this business, ”for one to be glad that this poor wretch has come to such an end; but what better could have happened to him, as you say? You will see about a decent funeral, Edwards; and I will leave you something to stop the mouth of that caterwauling landlady. You can tell them at the inquest that he has no relations in this country.”

By-and-by he said,

”If there are any debts, I will pay them; and if no one has any objection I should like to have that casket, to show to--to Miss Lind.

Did you see the carving on it?”

”I looked at it.”