CHAPTER XXII
[THE LOCKET]
The information was so unexpected and terrible that Frank felt the blood leave his cheeks. Pale as a ghost, he rose from his chair, and looked at Donna Maria with dilated eyes. From her confession he fancied that she must be implicated in the double crime, and a feeling of terror seized him at the idea of the woman he loved having brought herself within the reach of the law. Donna Maria saw his expression, and with the swift instinct of a woman, guessed his thoughts. With a haughty gesture she hung back her head, and her eyes sparkled like stars on a frosty night as she spoke to him.
"Oh, don't think I have done anything wrong!" she cried defiantly. "What I did was at the request of my uncle. Sit down, Mr. Darrel, and I'll tell you the story in detail."
She pointed to his chair with a regal gesture, and when he resumed his seat faced him with a wonderfully composed look. She began her confession--as it may be called--tamely enough; but as the story became more dramatic she warmed to her work, and finished with all the fire, and fury, and gesticulation of her Southern nature. Frank, sympathising with her quick spirit, was enthralled by her beauty, moved by her eloquence, and felt that here was a woman to die for.
"When my uncle took leave of us here to go to Italy," she said, "He called me into his study, and, after asking me not to reveal what he was about to tell me, made a confession. That I reveal it now is to save an innocent man from arrest."
"True enough, Miss Sandoval. But the confession?"
"Was that when in Lima ten years ago--at which time he married my aunt--he had become entangled with a certain association called----"
"The Peruvian Patriots," interrupted Frank. "I know all about that society and it's blue mummies. Go on, please."
"Well, Mr. Grent was bound in some way--I don't know how--to assist this society, under penalty of death. He married, and came to England, and thought he would hear no more about the matter. But this year, Captain Manuel, with that ten thousand pounds which belonged to the Peruvian Patriots, came to London, and called to see my uncle. In his hands--after reminding him of his connection with the society--Manuel placed the money, and told him to look after it. My uncle did so, and kept it in this house. A week before his murder he found on this table a Blue Mummy."
"Ah! a Blue Mummy--the sign of death."
"Precisely; and with it a letter stating that the money was to be paid by my uncle to another member of the society, called Centa--a man whom my uncle had never seen. Failing this, the letter said that Mr. Grent would be killed. Now," continued Maria, "My uncle was so terrified at the thought of being secretly assassinated--for he knew the power and recklessness of the society--that he resolved to obey this letter."
"How did he know that the letter was authentic?"
"By the Blue Mummy. Only members of the Peruvian Patriots possess these tomb-images, and they are not obtainable in England, or, for the matter of that, in Peru either."
"H'm! I suppose he was right to believe in the letter? Well, so he resolved to obey it, and hand the money over to this mysterious Centa?"
"Yes; but he wished to do so without letting Manuel know, as he was afraid lest Manuel, enraged at the want of faith shewn to him by the society, might take the law into his own hands, and assassinate him."
Darrel could not help laughing. "My dear lady," said he, "I am afraid Mr. Grent must have been a very credulous man. The law does not countenance wholesale murder in this country, whatever it may do in Peru."
"But you forget!" cried Donna Maria angrily. "My uncle's foreboding came true. He was murdered by the society, as the token of the Blue Mummy left beside him proves; but whether by Manuel or Centa I cannot say."
"Why," said Frank thoughtfully, "there is something in that; but we'll discuss the point later. Please continue."
"Well, Mr. Darrel, my uncle determined to take the money up to the bank in Fleet-Street, and put it in his private safe. Then he intended to write a letter to Manuel, asking him to call at his rooms in Duke-Street on Saturday afternoon. He designed to tell Manuel that the money was in the bank, and that if he wanted to see it there, he could ask Mr. Vass to show it to him. In the meantime I was to go to the bank on Saturday morning, on the pretence of getting the tickets for the journey, which had been purposely left behind, and get the money."
"But how were you to open the safe?"
"Why, Mr. Grent gave me his private key."
"Oh, I understand; but," added Darrel, "if you were to take away the money, and Captain Manuel was to be told in the afternoon that he could see it in the safe, the whole thing would come out, as the money would not be there for him to see."
"Not at all. You forget that it was Saturday, and Captain Manuel could not look into the safe before Monday morning. Now, my uncle intended to give the money to Centa on Saturday night, and then go off to Italy; so, you see, there was absolutely no danger."
"A very pretty plot," said Darrel drily. "So you agreed to assist in it?"
Donna Maria flushed red, and responded rather haughtily: "I am from Lima, and I know how terrible is the vengeance of the Peruvian Patriots when they are betrayed. I assisted my uncle to save his life."
"So it all fell out as planned?"
"Yes! Mr. Grent took the money up on Friday, and placed it in the safe, with Mr. Vass as a witness. Then he went to his rooms, and telegraphed to me to do my part. I went up on Saturday morning on the pretence of getting the tickets, and saw Mr. Vass in my uncle's private room. To get rid of him, I asked him for a glass of water. He left the room, and I at once opened the safe with the key given to me by my uncle. When Mr. Vass returned with the water the safe was locked again, and I had the notes in my pocket. In the afternoon I went to Mr. Grent's rooms, and gave him the money; then I said good-bye, and came away: My uncle told me that he had seen Captain Manuel."
"Yes, I know Manuel called; Meek said so; and I suppose Grent told him to look into the safe on Monday. As a matter of fact, he did not do so until Tuesday or Wednesday, and then Vass discovered the loss. But tell me, how did Mr. Grent hope to pacify Manuel?"
"By absence. He intended to write from Italy, and tell him that he had given the money to Centa; and, as he proposed to remain abroad for some time, he thought that Manuel's anger would abate, and he would not wish to harm him when he returned."
"I see," said Frank thoughtfully. "I must say that Mr. Grent provided for his own safety remarkably well."
"And all in vain, poor man," sighed Maria, "since he was killed by the society!"
"I don't believe he was," said Darrel bluntly.
"But the Mummy--the Blue Mummy?"
"What about the returned money, Miss Sandoval? Why should the society instruct Manuel, or Centa, to kill Grent and rob his body, then give back the money to itself? That's robbing Peter to pay Paul with a vengeance."
"So it is. I can't understand it at all."
"Then again," said Frank warming, "did you not take two tickets from the bank?"
"I don't know. Mr. Grent mentioned only one ticket, and it was in an envelope. But now you mention it, Mr. Darrel, the envelope was rather thick; there might have been two tickets."
"There were; one for Mr. Grent, the other for Miss Hargone. She had arranged to elope with Grent; at least, she fooled him into believing so, but instead of going she sent Julia Brawn, disguised in that fawn-coloured mantle. Then Grent was killed."
"By whom?" asked Maria, much agitated.
"I can't say. Perhaps that Centa you speak of got wind that Grent was bolting with the money to Italy, and followed to kill him. But who can tell? It is all a mystery."
"I don't wish to speak ill of the dead," said Maria, with a sigh, "but it seems to me that my uncle was acting very badly. That he should deceive my poor aunt, who loved him so!" And a tear trickled down her face.
Darrel said nothing, but he was quite satisfied that he knew the extent of Grent's villainy. He had stolen the ten thousand pounds in such a way as to throw the blame on Vass, and he had intended to fly to South America with Lydia Hargone, deserting his wife for a woman who had deceived him at last. But Providence, which rules all things, had thwarted his evil plans, and instead of getting away with the fruits of his iniquity he had met with a cruel death at the hands of an unknown man. As he had sown, so had he reaped.
"Let me ask you one thing," said Darrel, as he took his leave: "why did you not tell us this before?"
"Because, in the first place, I promised my uncle to keep silent; and in the second, he told me that if I spoke the society--since he hoped to escape it--might kill my aunt. It was for her sake that I kept silent."
"Lies! Lies! Lies!" thought Darrel. "What a liar Grent was."
When he got back to town he saw Torry and told him the whole story, whereat the detective was much pleased.
"Didn't I say Grent had the money!" said he, slapping his thigh. "What a plot to get it, the cunning old fox! I'm almost loth to catch and hang the man who killed him."
"The hare runs yet on the mountains," said Darrel drily, and took his leave of the jubilant detective to go home and dream of Maria. The interview with her had left him more in love than ever.
Next morning he was hardly awake when Torry, wildly excited, burst into his bedroom, and executed a kind of war-dance. "I've found the tramp who robbed the dead body of Julia Brawn," he cried, "and he gave up this locket, which he took from her neck. See, see! It is of gold, with the letters 'G.V. to J.B.' That is the lover to the lass."
"The lover of Julia Brawn?" said Darrel, jumping out of bed.
"Yes, yes; the man who was with her on that night. The man who killed Grent."
"But his name--his name?"
"Look at the initials, G.V.--Gustavus Vass. He is the murderer!"