"And if she had not suffered from that incurable disease, I doubt if she would have committed suicide," said Miss Plantagenet.
"Oh, I think so," said Durham, reflectively. "After all, her confession meant hanging to her. She wished to escape the gallows."
"I am glad Bernard did," said Miss Berengaria, emphatically; "even at the risk of all that scandal."
"It couldn't be kept out of the papers," said Durham, with a shrug. "After all, Bernard's character had to be fully cleansed. It was therefore necessary to tell the whole of Beryl's plot, to produce Michael as an example of what Nature can do in the way of resemblances, and to supplement the whole with Mrs. Gilroy's confession."
"And a nice trouble there was over it," said the old lady, annoyed. "I believe Bernard had a man calling on him who wished to write a play about the affair—a new kind of 'Corsican Brothers.'"
"Or a new 'Comedy of Errors,'" said Alice, smiling. "Well, the public learned everything and were sorry for Bernard. They cheered him when he left the court."
"And would have been quite as ready to hiss him had things turned out otherwise," snapped Miss Berengaria. "The man who should have suffered was that wretch Beryl."
"We couldn't catch him," said Durham. "Victoria reached him on that very night, and he cleared without loss of time. Of course, he was afraid of being accused of the crime, although he knew he was innocent, but, besides that, there was the conspiracy to get the estate by means of the false will. By the way, did Mrs. Moon say what had become of Victoria?"
Miss Berengaria nodded. "Victoria is down in Devonshire with an aunt, and is being kept hard at work to take the bad out of her. I understand she still believes in Jerry and will marry him when he comes out of the reformatory. He will then be of a marriageable age, the brat! But, regarding Beryl, what became of him?"
"I never could find out," confessed Durham.