CHAPTER XVI
[THE TURQUOISE RING]
Here, then, was a new complication, and one entirely unforeseen. The dead man, false to his reputed character for uprightness and loyalty to his wife, had been in love with Lydia Hargone, and she, according to Donna Inez, while pretending an affection for Blake, was devoted to Frederick Leighbourne. Torry was so perplexed over the matter that he determined to adopt a frank and open policy, and visit Lydia and Leighbourne in turn. From one or the other he hoped to get at the truth of the accusations directed against them by Mrs. Grent.
With this idea the detective drove to Fleet-street the next morning and sent in his card to Frederick Leighbourne, with a request for an immediate interview. The young banker was annoyed by the visit, and very unskilfully shewed his annoyance when Torry was admitted into his room. For this peevishness, however, the detective cared little, so long as he secured an interview, and he seated himself near Frederick with a smiling face.
"It's a fine morning, sir," he said, cheerfully.
"Very," replied Frederick drily, "but I hardly presume that you came to tell me so."
"No, sir, that's very true. I came to have an interview with you about this case."
"I am at your service, sir. Go on."
"Well, sir," said Torry abruptly. "I saw Mrs. Grent yesterday."
Frederick started nervously, and looked anxiously at Torry. "And what did she say?" he asked, with an attempt at light conversation.
"That her husband was in love with Miss Hargone."
"That's a lie!" exclaimed Leighbourne loudly; then, checking his passion, he added: "It is the idle talk of a jealous woman. Mr. Grent was devoted to his wife, but she suspected him to be in love with every woman he spoke to. What else did she say?"
"That Miss Hargone was in love with you."
Leighbourne turned pale and then flushed a violent red, after which he jumped up in a furious rage. "Did you come here to insult me, Mr. Torry?" he inquired in a strangled voice.
"I?" ejaculated the detective with well-feigned surprise. "My good sir, what puts such an idea into your head. I know that Miss Hargone does not love you, for----"
"Why do you suppose so?" demanded Frederick angrily.
"Because she is engaged to Mr. Blake," said Torry, pleased with the success of his manœuvre.
Leighbourne muttered something under his breath not exactly complimentary to Blake, and took a turn up and down the apartment.
"Are you in love with Miss Hargone?" asked Torry demurely.
"Mind your own business?" cried Frederick, turning savagely on the man.
"I am minding it," answered the detective sharply. "I wish to know all about Miss Hargone, as it is my impression she is implicated in this murder."
"It is not true! It is not true! Miss Hargone is a good, true, pure girl."
"Oh," sneered Torry, "yet she paid a visit to Grent's chambers on the day he was killed. Hullo!"
He uttered this exclamation in sheer astonishment; for Frederick, in a frenzy of rage, had flung himself violently forward and was clutching at his throat. Torry, though fat and short, was stronger than his assailant, and, in a few minutes, forced back Leighbourne into his chair. While the young man sat there panting and furious he wiped his forehead, and spoke to him sharply.
"You have told me all I wish to know, Mr. Leighbourne, and without words. You love Miss Hargone."
"Yes, I do," said Frederick sullenly, "and it is a lie that she visited Grent."
"It is true," retorted Torry, "and I'll prove it to you in a few days, sir. More, I believe that she was about to elope with Grent to Italy when his death put an end to her schemes.
"No, No; I'll not believe it. She did not love Grent, she does not love Blake. I am the only one she cares for."
"It is my opinion that she cares only for herself."
"At any rate, she has nothing to do with this crime," muttered Frederick.
"That is just what I am going to find out."
"What; Do you intend to call on Miss Hargone and repeat this infamous conversation?"
"I do," replied Torry, and, with a short nod, left the room.
Leighbourne remained seated for some moments with a mixed expression of dismay and anger on his face. Then he seized his hat, and, leaving the bank, jumped into the first hansom, telling the cabman to drive to Waterloo Station. Here he found that a train was leaving for Wraybridge in fifteen minutes, and at once purchased a ticket. Thinking that Torry might be about, the young man kept himself in the background, and watched the entrance to the station. Soon he saw the detective drive up, buy a ticket, and take his seat in the train. Plainly it was no use to go to Wraybridge by the same train, as his presence might rouse the suspicions of Torry, so Mr. Leighbourne tore up his ticket and ran to the telegraph office. Here he sent a wire. It was addressed to "Hargone, Wray House, Wraybridge."
In the meantime Torry, not suspecting Frederick's prompt action, was spinning along to his destination, and wondering over the new features presented by the case. Especially did he wonder that Donna Inez, who manifested such hatred towards Lydia Hargone, should tolerate her in the house. This complaisance almost made Torry doubt the truth of Mrs. Grent's accusation. However, he resolved to force a confession out of Lydia by using cunning, as he had done in the case of Leighbourne.
On arriving at Wraybridge, Torry dispensed with a fly, as he had so much to think about in connection with this very puzzling case that he concluded to walk. The distance from the railway station was considerable, and it took quite half an hour for Torry, plump and short-winded, to walk to Wray House. At the great iron gates he found a telegraph boy, just about to mount his bicycle on the return journey to the office. In a moment Torry's thoughts flew back to Leighbourne's demeanour, and he spoke at once to the telegraph boy.
"Hullo, my young friend!" said he, artfully. "Do you know if there is a lady called Hargone living hereabouts?"
The boy grinned and pointed to the gates. "She lives inside there," he said. "I've just taken a telegram to her."
"That's queer!" replied Torry with a chuckle. "You're a smart lad; here's a shilling for you."
"Thankee, sir," said the boy jubilantly, and mounting his bicycle went off in a cloud of dust.
"Ah!" thought the detective as he walked up to the mansion, "so you have been forewarned, have you, Miss Hargone? That young rascal is smarter than I thought. I should have seen you first. Well, miss, we'll see who is the sharper--you or I."
Torry had not the same difficulty in entering the house as on the previous occasion, for the footman, knowing that he was the detective in charge of the Grent murder case, received him with respect and awe. He showed him into the same pleasant room in which he had conversed with Donna Maria, and took his card to Miss Hargone. In a short time that lady, suspiciously calm and alarmingly sweet, made her appearance, and welcomed Torry with much cordiality. This, as the sagacious detective guessed, was the effect of the telegram, which had advised her of his visit and probable questions. Miss Hargone had been forewarned; consequently, to Torry's grim amusement, she was forearmed.
"Good day, Mr. Torry," said she glibly. "I hope you have come to tell us that the assassin of poor Mr. Grent has been found."
"Well, no, miss," replied Torry, with feigned simplicity. "I came down to ask if you knew anything about it. That is, do you know anyone whom Mr. Grent regarded as his enemy?"
"I, sir?" cried Lydia indignantly, but with a slight tremour in her voice. "How can I possibly know such a thing? I was not in Mr. Grent's confidence."
"Yet you knew him well enough to visit him at his chambers in Duke-street."
Lydia's eyes flashed. "How dare you! how dare you!" she gasped. "Do you come here to blacken my character?"
"I come here to ask you why you visited Mr. Grent on the Saturday of his death."
"I did not! I deny that I visited him!
"Spare me these denials," said Torry contemptuously. "You went to Duke-street veiled, and thought to escape recognition; but that silver ring on your finger was recognised."
"This ring?" said Lydia, with a look of surprise, "Ah! now I see it all."
"All what?" asked Torry, wondering at her composure.
"One moment," said Miss Hargone, and touched the bell. When the servant appeared she gave him some instructions in a low voice; and when he withdrew returned to Torry. "I deny that I visited Mr. Grent," she said coolly; "and I can prove that what I say is true. You go by the evidence that I wore this ring on that day?"
"Yes; it is a peculiar ring, and was recognised when you removed your glove to pay the cabman."
"Well, we shall see. Here is Donna Maria."
The Spanish girl entered the room with a sad expression. She started when she saw Torry, but recovering herself, came forward with an air of composure, and bowed gravely. Then she turned to Lydia. "You sent for me, I believe," said she coldly.
"Yes, dear," replied the other, holding out the disputed ring in the palm of her hand. "I wish you to tell Mr. Torry how I lost this ring."
"How can that possibly interest him," said Maria, arching her brows.
"Pardon me, it does interest me," said Torry eagerly. "I should like to know."
"In that case I shall explain," answered Maria gravely. "Two months ago Miss Hargone lost her ring in the garden. We searched for it, but could not find it. A week before the death of my uncle, I picked it up in a flower bed, and slipped it on my finger, intending to return it. As you can see, I have done so. That is all."
"When did you return it?"
"When Miss Hargone came down here after the death of my uncle."
"And you wore it previously?"
"I did."
"On the third finger of the right hand?"
"Yes; but why do you----"
"I ask these questions, miss, because that ring was seen on your finger on the Saturday you visited your uncle's chambers."
Donna Maria turned pale. "I--I did----" she faltered.
"You told me a falsehood before," said Torry coldly. "Do you intend to tell me another?"
"No!" cried Maria, raising her head proudly. "I did visit those rooms."