RICHARD GARDEN MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF FANNY LETHBRIDGE.
Punctually at nine o'clock in the morning Tom Barley made his appearance in Fred Cornwall's rooms. Garden, having assumed the command of what nearly every one but himself would have considered a forlorn hope, of course was present; he was fresh and bright, but Fred's face was haggard and anxious. In this respect Tom Barley was no better off; the poor fellow was suffering a martyrdom. The reproaches hurled against him by 'Melia Jane had caused him to look upon himself as a monster of wickedness, and to believe that it was his evidence alone that had brought his beloved young mistress into deadly peril. When Fred Cornwall offered him his hand he shrank back a little, and stood before the young lawyers in an attitude of sad humility, with his arms drooping by his side.
"Why will you not give me your hand, Tom?" asked Fred.
"It's more than I dare do, sir," replied Tom. "I ought to have mine cut off, and my tongue cut out as well, for saying what I did in court, and for bringing Miss Phœbe to her death. If I'd had a notion of the consequences of my evidence, not a word would they have got out of me, whatever the consequence. 'Melia Jane is right; I don't deserve to live. It come over me last night that I might have saved Miss Phœbe if, instead of saying what I did say, I had said something else."
"What?" inquired Garden, in a kind tone.
"Confessed to killing Miser Farebrother myself. I was there, and might have done it, and would if I'd seen him, as sure as there's a God above us, if I'd had a notion of what things were coming to! Yes; if I'd said as much they'd have been bound to believe me, and Miss Phœbe would have been set free. You see, sir, there was every reason for my killing him; he treated me like a dog for years, and I hated him worse than poison. Are you a lawyer, sir?"
"Yes," replied Garden; "and I am assisting Mr. Cornwall in this matter that we all have so much at heart. I do not at all despair of proving Miss Farebrother's innocence even yet."
"There's only one way of doing that, sir, if it can be done legally. I'd like to ask you a question, if you wouldn't mind answering it."
"Go on, Tom."
"Would it be too late for me to go to the police-station now, and give myself up for the murder? If they'd only believe me I should be a happy man again. Then Miss Phœbe would be saved, and everything'd be right."
"It is too late for that, Tom. Besides, it would be depriving us of the chance of bringing the crime home to the guilty parties and making them suffer for it."
"Ah! if we could do that, sir, it would be the happiest day's work that ever was done in this cruel world! I'd be content to die the day after."
"Well, I am not at all sure that we shall not manage it," said Garden, "and perhaps, Tom, it all depends upon you."
"Upon me, sir!" cried Tom; and Fred also turned to Garden in surprise.
"Perhaps upon you. We shall soon know if the tack I am on will bring us safe into port."
"Your inspiration, Dick?" asked Fred, anxiously.
"My inspiration, Fred," said Garden, gravely. "If the tack is a wrong one, we'll try another. Now, Tom, you have nothing to reproach yourself with. You could do no less than speak the truth."
"I could, sir; I could have held my tongue."
"There is no possibility of your being mistaken in any part of the evidence you gave?"
"Unluckily no, sir. I say so to you because you're Miss Phœbe's friend; but if I had the opportunity now I'd swear the other way."
"Don't speak like that, Tom. What we want is to save Miss Farebrother honestly and honourably: that is our first great object. The next is to bring the murderers to justice. You were not in court during the whole of the trial."
"No, sir. I was told when to go to give my evidence, and then I had to go back to my duty."
"You were not aware, before you answered the questions as to the woman you saw in the grounds at Parksides and the dress she wore, that other witnesses were examined with respect to the colour of the dress Miss Farebrother had on when she left her aunt's house?"
"No, sir, I knew nothing of it; and I wondered what they were driving at."
"You swore to the colour—blue?"
"Yes, sir," replied poor Tom, hanging his head.
"You would swear to it again?"
Tom looked round helplessly.
"You would swear to it again?" repeated Garden.
"No, I wouldn't," said Tom savagely.
"You would, Tom, because it is the truth; and if I am on the right tack, only the truth will serve us. Now, although you were not in court during the whole of the trial, you read the report of it in the papers?"
"I did, sir."
"Clear your mind, Tom, and bend it on what I am about to ask you. In reading the report of the trial, did anything particular strike you?"
"It was full of lies, sir."
"I am sure of that. But anything very special"—and here Garden's voice trembled slightly, as though he were approaching a crucial test—"say as to the colour of dresses? Think, Tom."
"No occasion to think, sir. What they said about Mrs. Pamflett's dresses was a pack of lies from beginning to end."
"How is that, Tom?" asked Garden, rising and moving a step nearer to Tom Barley.
"Why, sir, wasn't it said that Mrs. Pamflett hated blue dresses, and never wore one."
"They did, Tom."
"Damned lies, sir! Why didn't they ask me about that? I ought to know, living at Parksides the years I did. I've seen her hundreds and hundreds of times in a blue dress."
Garden caught Fred's hand. "You are ready to swear that?"
"Ready, sir? Yes; and it's the truth—by God!"
A look of triumph flashed into Garden's eyes, and his face was radiant. "I'm on the right tack, Fred," he cried; "Miss Farebrother is saved!"
On the evening of that day Richard Garden and Fred Cornwall met Kiss by appointment. The kind-hearted actor had news of vital importance to give them. Mrs. Pamflett and Jeremiah were still at No. 12 Surrey Street and had not stirred out the whole of the day.
"Adjoining the room they eat and drink in," said Kiss, "is a little box-room, too small to let to any lodger, but large enough for lumber, and that's the use it's put to by the landlady. Formerly it was part of the room the two fiends have taken, but some time ago it was partitioned off for boxes and that kind of thing. Consequently the wall that separates it from the larger room is made of wood instead of brick. It is a cupboard, nothing more, and anybody concealed there can hear what is going on in the adjoining apartment. Sir, Mrs. Linton, provided with sandwiches and cold tea, has been concealed in that cupboard nearly the whole of the day unknown to the Pamfletts. The woman who stole the diamond bracelet has been with them, and she heard all that passed. That strange paragraph which is in all the evening papers about the bracelet that was stolen being the genuine one, is true. Mrs. Linton heard the woman swear to it. She wanted to know whether Jeremiah Pamflett had possession of the bracelet. At first he denied that he had, but the woman said he was telling a lie, and she did not intend to be done. They almost got to high words, but the Pamfletts spoke in a low voice and calmed the woman down; and upon her swearing that if they did not tell her the truth she would go straight to the police-station and confess the robbery and have them arrested, they confessed that they had got the bracelet, but had deposited it elsewhere for safety. 'That being so,' said the woman, 'you must have stolen it from Miser Farebrother, and the girl who has been found guilty of his murder is innocent. It was you who murdered him! You are in my power now, and if you don't pay me well to hold my tongue I'll have the pair of you hanged!' For a little while after that Mrs. Linton heard nothing more—only a murmur of voices; but before she went away she heard the woman say, 'To-morrow night, then, at ten o'clock; and mind you come with the bracelet and the money ready. If you don't, your life is not worth an hour's purchase.' That was all; when the woman was gone, Mrs. Pamflett and her son talked in whispers, and not a word could Mrs. Linton catch. But I think she heard enough."
"Quite enough," said Garden, "and you have rendered us an inestimable service. What you have told us would almost justify our taking immediate action against the monsters; but there is something else of great importance to do within the next few hours. We will take them red-handed to-morrow night, the two murderers and the thief who in the first instance stole the bracelet. Then the case will be complete, and there will be no escape for them. Now go back and keep watch upon their movements. They must not be allowed to go anywhere without being followed. If you have the slightest reason to fear that they will give you the slip, lay hands upon them, collect a crowd, and give them in charge."
"Upon what charge?" asked Kiss.
"Upon the charge of stealing the bracelet. If that will not do, say that new evidence has come to light respecting the murder of Miser Farebrother, which proves them to be implicated in it. Give the police my card, and say I will attend at the police station at ten o'clock to-morrow morning to prove my case. Meanwhile, you will, of course, let me know that you have taken action. But the necessity will not arise: the Pamfletts will not attempt to escape from the woman for the next twenty-four hours; they are quite aware that sudden flittings from place to place would be likely to draw attention upon them, and their chief desire is to avoid observation and be left to themselves, in order that in a little while they may disappear quietly from the country, taking with them the bracelet and the money they must have stolen from Miser Farebrother. If I were not thoroughly convinced of this I should set aside a most important affair in connection with the evidence upon the murder, and have the Pamfletts arrested immediately. My object is to make the case against them so complete that they shall have no loop-hole of escape. It will hasten the hour of Miss Farebrother's release, instead of retarding it."
"You are a good general, Mr. Garden," said Kiss; "you put heart into your soldiers. Your instructions shall be followed to the letter."
Half an hour afterward they were in Aunt Leth's house, and were shown into the room in which that good woman and Fanny were sitting. Aunt Leth started up at their entrance, but before she could speak, Garden said,
"You received my letter?"
"Yes, and Fred's also, telling me to do everything you desired."
"Then you have everything prepared?"
"Yes, everything."
"Try to be calm, I beg of you, for your dear niece's sake."
"I will, I will. But it is all so strange—and I cannot understand—"
"Make no attempt to do so yet; very soon you will know all. You will be ready to start with Fred at one o'clock?"
"Yes, I shall be ready."
"Wrap yourself up warm; the nights are chilly now. You may have some time to wait, but you will not mind that. I want to be sure that you will be there before us. Fred will show you exactly what you have to do, and the time to do it. Sit down now and compose yourself. It would be all the better if you could sleep for an hour or two before you start. If you cannot sleep, you can rest; and remember that everything we are doing is to save an innocent angel, to restore her to light and love."
"One word only," said the agitated woman: "you have hope?"
"Something more than hope," replied Garden, with a bright look; "almost a certainty!"
"Oh, thank God!—thank God!" murmured Aunt Leth; and, sinking into a chair, she covered her face with her hands, and, with tears gushing from her eyes, prayed silently and fervently.
"Mr. Garden," said Fanny, stepping forward and taking his hand, "you will save my dear cousin?"
"If it is in man's power to save her," said Garden, gazing earnestly at her sweet, imploring face, "I will save her."
"It is in your power, is it not? You believe it is in your power?"
"Yes, Miss Lethbridge; I firmly believe it."
All this time she had held his hand, and now she lowered her face to it; and a thrill ran through Garden's frame as he felt the soft pressure of her lips. Then Fanny turned and went to her mother's side, and folded her in her arms.