Extracts From a Detectives Note-Book
". . . Just returned from an evening with Japix . . . We (R., J., and myself) had a long conversation about the case . . . This conversation has left me in a state of great perplexity . . . I told Japix I would give him the key to the mystery next week, but I spoke more boldly than I have reason to . . . It is true I am narrowing down the circle . . . I suspect two people, with a possible third . . . Marson, Judith Varlins, and Judas . . . It's a very humiliating fact to confess this indecision even to myself . . . But, detectives are not infallible save in novels . . . I am perplexed . . . I have suspected Axton wrongfully . . . I have suspected Spolger wrongfully, and now . . . Let me make a note of the motives of each of the three people I suspect now . . .
". . . Marson! He is on the verge of bankruptcy . . . only one person can save him, viz. Jackson Spolger . . . He, however, declines to help him unless he marries Florry Marson . . . She won't marry Spolger because of her love for Melstane . . . A strong motive here for Marson to get rid of Melstane . . .
". . . Miss Varlins . . . Her motive for getting rid of Melstane, I think, is a mixture of love and jealousy . . . Both strong motives, with a woman . . .
". . . Judas! He loves Miss Marson also, and with his loose morality would have no hesitation in putting Melstane out of the way. He wants Florry Marson, he wants her money . . . Melstane stands in the way of his obtaining both . . . in such a case Judas is just the man—from my reading of his character—to commit a crime . . . Again, his employment as a chemist offers him peculiar advantages for obtaining morphia . . . It would be difficult for either Marson or Miss Varlins to obtain morphia in a large quantity, but Judas could easily get it in the ordinary course of his business . . . I am going to see Judas, and from a second conversation may perhaps learn something useful . . . He is crafty . . . still he may betray himself . . . at all events, it is worth while trying.
"Mem.—To see Judas to-morrow night."
[Chapter 15]
Monsieur Judas at Bay
Monsieur Jules Guinaud was not quite satisfied in his own mind with regard to the result of his interview of the previous night. It was true that by using the documents he had stolen from Melstane's packet he had succeeded in obtaining Marson's consent to his marriage with Florry, but it was also true that he had found an unexpected obstacle to his plans in the person of Judith Varlins. He was cynical in his estimate of the female sex, regarding them as beings quite inferior to the male, but at the same time he was too clever a man to underestimate the result of a quick-witted woman opposing herself to his will. Florry was a mere cypher, whom he loved in a sensual fashion for her beauty, and in a worldly fashion for her money, but Judith was quite a different stamp of woman to this negative type of inane loveliness. She had a masculine brain, she had a strong will, she had a fearless nature, and Guinaud dreaded the upshot of any interference on her part.
A genius, this man—a genius in a wicked way, with wonderful capabilities of arranging his plans, and brushing aside any obstacle that might interfere with their fulfilment, In this case Judith interfered, so Judas, taking a rapid survey of the situation, saw a means by which he could silence her effectively, and determined to do so without delay. He wished to marry Florry Marson; he wished to enjoy the income, the position, and the benefits derived from being a son-in-law of Marson, and was consequently determined to let nothing stand in the way of the realisation of his hopes. Judas was not a brave man, but he was wonderfully crafty, and the fox, as a rule, gains his ends where the lion fails; so the Frenchman determined to go up to the Hall on the night following his first interview, see Judith, and let her know at once what to expect if she meddled with his arrangements.
This was all very nicely arranged, and if Monsieur Guinaud had been undisturbed, he would no doubt have succeeded in his wicked little plans; but Fate, not approving of this usurpation of her role as arbitrator of human lives, interfered, and Octavius Fanks was the instrument she used to defeat all the Frenchman's schemes.
In playing with Fate, that goddess has a nasty habit of forcing her opponent's hand before he desires to show it, and this is what she did now, to the great discomfiture of Monsieur Judas.
It was about eight o'clock on the night following that momentous interview at the Hall, and all Mrs. Binter's boarders had left the jail on the ticket of-leave system except Judas, who sat in the drawing-room cell arranging everything in his crafty brain before setting out on his errand to Miss Varlins. The head-jailer had several times entered the room and intimated that he had better run out for a breath of fresh air; but Judas, saying he would go later on, kept his seat by the diminutive fire, and declined to obey Mrs. Binter, much to that good lady's disgust.
"Why, drat the man," she said, in her stony fashion, to one of the under-warders, "what does he mean by wastin' coals an' ile? Why don't he walk his dinner off by usin' his legs instead of robbin' me of my profits by takin' it out of his thirty shillin's weekly?"
The under-warder suggested respectfully that Monsieur Judas might be expecting a friend that night, as on a previous occasion, to which the jailer made prompt reply:
"Oh, I dare say! That friend he had here was a furriner. I heard 'em talking their French gabble. It's more like a turkey gobblin' than a man talkin'. Why don't these furriners learn English? There's the front-door bell! P'r'aps it's that friend again. I'll go myself."
And go herself she did, to find Mr. Fanks waiting on the doorstep; and thinking he was expected by Judas, seeing that gentleman had waited in, took him in charge, and formally conducted him to the drawing-room cell.
"A gentleman for you, munseer," she said, glaring at her lodger, who had arisen to his feet in some surprise, "an' please don't use too many coals, sir. For coals is coals, however much you may think 'em waste-paper."
Having thus relieved her feelings, Mrs. Binter retired to the basement, where she amused herself with badgering Mr. Binter, and Fanks was left alone with the chemist's assistant.
"You wish to see me, monsieur?" asked Judas, in French, narrowing his eyes to their most catlike expression.
"Yes," replied Fanks, sitting down. "I wish to ask you a few questions."
"I cannot give you long, Monsieur Fanks," said the Frenchman, unwillingly, "I have an engagement for this night!"
"Oh, indeed. With Mr. Marson, or Miss Varlins?" This was carrying the war into the enemy's camp with a vengeance, and for a moment Judas was so nonplussed, that he did not know what to say.
"Monsieur is pleased to be amusing," he said, at length, with an ugly smile. "Monsieur does me the honour to make my business his own."
"I'm glad you see my intentions so clearly, Monsieur Guinaud."
They were painfully polite to one another, these two men, but this mutual politeness was of a dangerous kind foreboding a storm. Like two skilful fencers, they watched one another warily, each ready to take advantage of the first opportunity to break down the guard of the other. It was difficult to say who would win, for they were equally clever, equally watchful, equally merciless, and neither of them underestimated the acuteness of his adversary. A duel of brains, both men on guard, and Fanks made the first attack!
"Are you aware, Monsieur Guinaud, that you stand in a very dangerous position?"
"My faith, no! Not at all."
"Then it is as well you should know at once. I am a detective, as you know, and am investigating this affair of your late friend. I suspect some one of the murder."
"Very well. Monsieur Axton?"
"No."
"The dear Spolgers?"
"No."
Judas shrugged his shoulders!
"My faith! I know not, then, the man you suspect."
"Yes, you do. I suspect Monsieur Jules Guinaud."
The Frenchman was by no means startled, but laughed jeeringly.
"Eh, monsieur! Que diable faites-vous dans cette galère?"
"You need not jest. I am in earnest!"
"Truly! Will monsieur speak plainly?"
"Certainly! You say you were a friend of Melstane's. That is a lie. You hated him because he was your successful rival with Miss Marson. You wished him dead, so that you would be free to make your suit to the young lady. The box of tonic pills left your hands for those of Melstane."
"Pardon! It went first into the hands of Monsieur Vosk."
"Don't trouble to tell lies, Guinaud. I have asked Wosk, and he says he counted the pills, and then gave you the box again—open."
"It's a lie!"
"Reserve your defence, if you please. When you got that box, you put in those two morphia pills, and Melstane left Ironfields carrying his death in his pocket."
"You have the invention, monsieur, I see."
"In this scheme for Melstane's death you were prompted by your accomplice, Francis Marson."
"Eh! It's an excellent play, without doubt."
"You stole some compromising letters of Marson's from that packet of Melstane's, and took them up to him last night."
"You are wisdom itself, monsieur."
"Those letters form your hold over Marson, and you offered to destroy them on condition that he let you marry Miss Marson."
"A miracle of logic! Eh, I believe well."
"It is my firm conviction," said Fanks, losing his temper at the gibing tones of the Frenchman, "that what I have stated is the truth, and that you and Marson are responsible for the death of Melstane in the way I have described."
"Monsieur is not afraid of the law of libel, evidently."
"No; there are no witnesses present."
"Ah, you scheme well?"
"Pshaw! What answer can you make to my statement?"
Monsieur Judas smiled blandly, shrugged his shoulders, and spread out his lean hands with a deprecating gesture.
"Me! Alas! I can say nothing but that you have as strong a case against me as you had against your dear friend, Monsieur Roger."
Fanks reddened angrily. He was aware that he had blundered two or three times during the case, but still it was not pleasant to be taunted thus by a smiling adversary who indulged in fine irony.
"You led me to believe Axton was guilty," he said, meekly.
"I? Eh, it is a mistake. I but told what I knew. It is not my fault if the affair reflects upon Monsieur Roger."
"Do you know I can arrest you on suspicion of murder?"
"Truly! Then do so. I am ready."
Fanks bit his nails in impotent wrath, feeling himself quite helpless to deal with this man. He could not arrest him because he had not sufficient evidence to warrant him doing so. He could not force him to speak, as he had no means of commanding him. Altogether he was completely at the mercy of Judas in every way. Judas saw this and chuckled.
"Can I tell monsieur anything else?"
"Confound you, sir, you've told me nothing."
"Eh, it is because I do know nothing."
"That is a lie, Guinaud. I believe you know all about this case."
"Monsieur does me too much honour."
It was very provoking, certainly, and Fanks, seeing the uselessness of prolonging the discussion, was about to retire when a sudden thought entered his head.
"At all events Monsieur Guinaud," he said, deliberately, "cool as you are now, you may not be quite so composed before a judge."
"Ah! you will arrest me for the murder. Well, I wait, monsieur, for your pleasure. Bah! I am no child to be frightened by big drums."
"I won't arrest you for the murder, but I will for stealing those letters."
Judas winced at this. He was not very well acquainted with English law, and although he knew Fanks would not dare to arrest him on a charge of murder on the present evidence, yet he was by no means certain regarding the business of the letters. He thought a moment.
"You will arrest me for stealing what you do not know that I did steal?"
"What I know or what I don't know doesn't matter. I'll arrest you as soon as I can obtain a warrant. Once you are in the clutches of the English law, and you won't get out of them till you tell all you know about this case."
Octavius was simply playing a game of bluff with Judas trusting to the Frenchman's ignorance of English law to win him the game. He was right in this case, as Guinaud did not know how far the arm of Justice could stretch in England, and thought he might be arrested for the theft of the letters. If so, it would be fatal to his schemes, as he desired to avoid publicity in every way, and arrest at present meant the tumbling down of his carefully built house of cards. Having thus taken a rapid survey of the position, he made up his mind to save himself by the sacrifice of some one else, and he fixed upon Judith, who had tried to thwart him, as the victim. With this idea he politely desired Fanks to be seated again—a request which that gentleman obeyed with a feeling of great relief, as he had played his last card in a desperate game, and was grateful to find that it had turned up trumps.
The detective therefore seated himself once more, but Judas, foreseeing a fine opportunity of exercising his oratorical talents, remained standing, and waved his hand in a loftily theatrical manner.
"Monsieur," he said, with apparent grief, "you see before you a man of honour. It is all that I have, this honour of my forefathers, and I would not sell it, no! not for the wealth of the Monte Cristo of our dear Dumas. But in this case it is one of justice. If I am silent I am suspected of a terrible crime; my name is in the dust. Can I let it lie there? But no, it is impossible; so to myself I say, 'You must forget your honour for once, and speak the name of that woman.'"
"Woman!"
"Eh! monsieur, you are astonished. It is not strange! Listen to me! I will tell you what I know of my dear friend's death."
"But you're not going to tell me a woman killed him?" Guinaud placed his left hand inside his waistcoat, and waved the right, solemnly.
"Monsieur! There are terrible things in this world. The heart of man is not good, but the heart of woman—ah! who can explore its depths? Not even our Balzac, of all the most profound—"
"Hang your preaching, get on with your story."
Monsieur Judas smiled, dropped his pompous manner, and told his little tale in a highly dramatic fashion.
"I speak then, monsieur, straight. It's a drama of the Porte St. Martin. In this way. On the night before my dear friend goes to Jarlcesterre he is in this room; with him, myself. We talk, we laugh, we weep adieu! At once there is a tap at the window there—the window that opens like a door on to the beautiful grass. We turn; I see the dress, the hood, the figure of a woman, but not the face. My friend Sebastian to me speaks: 'Go, my good friend, I have to speak with a charming angel. You are a man of honour. Disturb not our rendezvous.' What would you? I go, and my friend Sebastian locks the door. At this I am angry. He trusts me not, so I say: 'Very well, you think I am a spy. So be it, I will listen.' Conceive to yourself, monsieur, how I was judged. In anger, I went outside to that window. It is open but a little, and I hear all—all! Sebastian to the woman speaks. They talk, and talk, and fight, and rage! Oh! it was terrible. She asks of him something, and he says, 'Yes, it is for you.' Then he goes out of this room by that door. She is left alone, this charming woman. She goes to the table, here; on it there is a box of pills—my friend's box of pills. She opens the box. My eye beholds her drop into it something, I know not what. Again she closes the box, and waits. I see my dear Melstane return. They talk, they kiss, they part. From the window I fly, and when I come into this room by the door, the woman is gone, Sebastian is gone, and the window is closed but not locked. I go to it, I open it, and on the grass there I see a handkerchief; it is now mine, and on it is the name of the woman that came—the woman that put the pills in the box—the woman that killed my friend."
"And the name—the name!" cried Fanks, in a state of great excitement, springing to his feet; "tell me her name."
Rapid as thought Guinaud produced a white handkerchief from his breast-pocket and flung it to Fanks.
The detective seized it, and looked at the name in the corner.
"Judith!"