CHAPTER XXV
[THE MEETING IN HYDE PARK]
Startled by this intelligence, Frank hastily took the open letter which Torry handed to him. It was written, or rather hand-printed, on a small sheet of notepaper, and read as follows:
"If G.V. will meet the writer of this letter near the Achilles Statue in Hyde Park at eleven o'clock on Friday night, he will be delivered out of his troubles in connection with the Cleopatra Needle murder. Come alone, and wait for a stranger to ask for a cigarette light. "
"An anonymous letter," said Darrel, when he finished reading the epistle, "but nothing to show from whom it comes."
"It was written by the assassin," cried Vass eagerly. "I am sure of it."
"How can you be sure of it?"
"Hush," said Torry, as the secretary was about to speak, "let me explain. I believe it is from the murderer," he continued, addressing Frank directly, "as he is the only one of the general public who knows that Vass is in trouble over this affair. Evidently he recognised Vass when he murdered Julia, and now wants to see him privately to ask about the money."
"The money--the ten thousand pounds?"
"Exactly. This man murdered Grent for that money, and when he fancied that Julia was giving it to Vass he killed her out of revenge. He did not find the notes on Julia's body, so he followed Vass, who, as you heard, managed to escape him. Now he thinks that Vass still has the money, and knows in some way, I can't say how, that he is in trouble over it. He wants to meet Vass and demand half of the money or perhaps more; then he will leave England and write a letter to the police saying that he is the criminal and that Vass is innocent. I am certain," cried Torry emphatically, "that such is the plot of this scoundrel."
"It sounds feasible enough. You are going to meet this man, Vass?"
"We are all going to meet him," said the detective promptly; "you can come too, if you like."
"Certainly. As I saw the beginning of this tragedy, I should like to see the end."
"It is now Thursday," remarked Torry, "so to-morrow night at half-past ten, I, you, and a couple of policemen will post ourselves out of sight near the Achilles Statue. At eleven Vass will come along and wait to be asked for a cigarette light. Then we will give the scoundrel rope enough to hang himself, and pounce out to arrest him when he has given himself away. There has been enough plotting on the part of criminals," added Torry, rubbing his hands, "so it is time honest men had their turn to counter-plot."
"What do you think of it all Mr. Darrel?" asked Vass in high glee.
Frank shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know what to say," said he, doubtfully. "You may be right, you may be wrong, but we have had so many failures that I fear to hope for success."
"Oh, we won't fail this time," said Vass, cheerfully. "Well, Mr. Torry, if you will excuse me I'll go back to my work. I'll be with you to-morrow at five as you desire. Good-day, sir; good-day, Mr. Darrel."
The novelist nodded without smiling, for he had no great liking for the slippery secretary. When the door closed on him he turned an ironical look on Torry.
"There goes a blackguard who thinks he is an honest man," was his remark.
"Let him think what he likes so long as he assists us," replied Torry carelessly. "I know he stole the notes, but he returned them again."
"Returned them out of fear, and in disguise," said Darrel. "The fellow is a white-livered cur. He hadn't even the pluck to defend that poor girl Julia."
"Come now, sir; he couldn't. The assassin was too quick for him. But I agree with you that he's a contemptible hound; but justice must work with dirty tools on occasion. This sneak----
"Bah! he is not worth talking about," interrupted Darrel contemptuously; "let's leave him in his native mud. What about the letter? Have you any idea who wrote it?"
"I told you the assassin of Grent and Julia."
"Have you any idea of his name?"
"I have a suspicion that it may turn out to be someone we know."
"Ha; I guess your idea. Manuel?"
Torry shook his head. "No. Manuel proved an alibi, and has cleared himself in my eyes. I suspect Frederick Leighbourne."
"No!" exclaimed Darrel with genuine surprise. "Why he is the last man in the world I should suspect."
"All the more reason for suspecting him," replied the experienced officer. "I have been making a few inquiries about that good young man, and I have found out that he leads a double life. With his respectable ass of a father he is all that is worthy and decent, but under this pious surface he is a scamp and a debauched spendthrift. Money runs through his hands like sand, and he is in debt to half the tradesmen in London. Wine, women, cards and racing, Frederick Leighbourne indulges in them all, and is now at his wits' end to conceal his iniquities from his father. If that virtuous dunderhead knew the truth he would kick Master Frederick out of the business, cut him off with a shilling, and solace his pious soul with texts out of the family Bible. Oh, I know the creed of the British hypocrite--cant, cant, and cant again."
"But all this does not prove that Frederick Leighbourne killed Grent."
"Don't you remember our first interview with him," cried Torry impatiently, "how afraid and nervous he was in how extraordinary a manner he took the news of Grent's murder? He had changed the notes for Grent, and knew that there was little danger of them being traced by Manuel's list. He found out that Grent was going to bolt with the money----"
"From whom?" interrupted Frank.
"From Lydia Hargone. Oh, you may look surprised, but that woman has acted like a traitress to all. She deceived Donna Maria for Blake, she deceived Blake for Grent, she sold Grent for Leighbourne, and I shouldn't be surprised if she ended in selling him to the gallows. But to continue. I fancy Leighbourne was the man who went with Julia at the instigation of the perfidious Lydia. He hoped to make ten thousand pounds at one haul, and killed Grent to get it. Then Julia, to whom the money had been given, ran off with it to Vass. Leighbourne followed and murdered her, but found, too late, that his crime was useless--that Vass had bolted with the money. What does he do? He waits a reasonable time, and acts a part to avert suspicion, then he writes this letter to Vass asking for an appointment. He means to get that money out of Vass or kill him."
"But Vass has not the money."
"Of course not; but who knows that he returned it? You, I, Manuel, Vass, and Donna Maria, not Leighbourne. Depend upon it, Mr. Darrel, we'll have Leighbourne in gaol to-morrow night, and this mystery which has baffled us for so long, will be at an end."
"Well," said Darrel thoughtfully, "your argument is ingenious. Let us hope it will prove true."
"Wait till to-morrow night," said Torry drily, and took his leave, satisfied that he was the smartest detective in London, and the cleverest man in the wide world.
Darrel passed the rest of that day, and most of the next, in speculating on the probable result of this expedition. He could not deny that Torry's theory was ingenious and feasible, but thought that he was too sanguine. It seemed madness that a man guilty of a double crime should thrust himself willingly in the way of danger and risk betrayal. To be sure, he knew that Vass had stolen the money, and believed that he still had it in his possession, so he, no doubt, believed that terror of arrest and the desire to keep his spoil, might influence the secretary in holding his tongue. If the assassin knew that the money had been returned, and that Vass had repented of his iniquity, he might have been chary of risking a meeting; but he was ignorant, and therefore, rash, and there was every probability that he would be arrested. With arrest would come confession, and so the mystery of the dual crime would be solved. Still, the truth had evaded detection so many times, that Darrel could hardly bring himself to believe that it was about to be brought to light. He thought it possible but improbable.
The next night, shortly after ten o'clock, he met Torry, who was accompanied by two constables in plain clothes, and the four men walked to Hyde Park. The night was moonless, but there was a faint glitter of starlight, and a certain luminosity in the atmosphere. There were a great many people in the streets, but when they turned into the Park itself, they found it almost deserted--at all events, in the vicinity of the Achilles Statue.
"I wonder that the man appointed a meeting with Vass in so public a place," whispered Darrel to Torry, as they took up their position in the blackness under the trees.
"The more public the place, the safer it is," replied Torry oracularly. "Hush, there is Vass."
In the luminous light the four watchers could see the tall, thin form of the secretary. He walked to and fro, and circulated round the statue in a deliberate manner. Several people entered the gates and passed down the Row, others walked in the direction of the Marble Arch, still the man who had made this appointment did not come. Vass looked at the dial of his watch by the glow of his cigarette, and as he did so the bell of a near church chimed eleven. At once Vass stepped back, and walked up to a point near the watchers, where they could overhear the conversation which was likely to take place, and seize the stranger promptly.
Hardly had he done this, and while the last vibration of the bell still quivered in the atmosphere, than the figure of a man sauntered aimlessly across the open space. As he came nearer, Vass saw that he wore a long overcoat and a soft hat. The man passed and re-passed him, glancing carelessly in his direction; then he asked, in a pleasant voice, for a cigarette light, which Vass obliged him with in silence. As the match spurted and flared, Vass noted that the stranger had a black beard, and, with a chill, realised that he was in the presence of the double assassin.
"You received my letter?" said the man abruptly, with a glance round.
"Yes. I am here to answer it; but I don't know why you wish to see me."
"I'll tell you; come and sit here." And the man walked towards two chairs, which were almost directly in front of the trees behind which Torry and his assistants were hiding. By the very irony of Fate, the wretch had walked directly into the trap set for him by the law.
"Isn't it rather public here," said Vass, sitting down beside the stranger.
"No. Who can suspect two people sitting quietly together--not the most suspicious policeman. But now for business. I want that money."
"What money?" said Vass, pretending ignorance.
"You know; the money given to you by the woman at Cleopatra's Needle."
"The murdered woman?"
"Shut up," growled the man between his teeth, "or you'll be in the same box. I want that money. I perilled my life to get it, and I intend to have it."
"Suppose I don't give it up."
"Then I'll accuse you as having killed the man and woman. You cannot defend yourself against my evidence."
"But, you wretch, it is you who are the assassin."
"I may admit as much to you," sneered the man, "as you don't know who I am, and never will."
"Won't I!" Vass flung himself on top of the miscreant and overset him, chair and all, on the ground. The man muttered an oath, and pulled out a long knife; but before he could use it Torry had rushed forward with his two men and Darrel. In the twinkling of an eye the man was disarmed and prone on his back. He cursed horribly, and whimpered between his curses.
"Fetch a light here," cried Torry, "and we'll learn who this murderer is."
Darrel slipped the slide back of a dark lantern, and turned the blaze full on their prisoner. He was dark-haired and black-bearded, and looked more like a shaggy wild bear than a man.
"I don't know him," said Frank to Torry.
"You will in a moment," cried Torry. "I'll swear it is Leighbourne."
"Leighbourne!" repeated Vass, trembling violently.
"Himself--see!" Torry dexterously whipped off a false beard and wig. Then he sprang to his feet with a wild cry of amazement. In the white-faced and baffled scoundrel, who was now in the clutches of the law, he saw not Frederick Leighbourne as he had expected, but--of all men--Roderick Blake!