"No, Signor Dottore. The padrona did not tell me. But she said it was a strange story. And to be read when my young Signor was in danger. I will go and bring it. La! La! La! It is danger. Dio mio! That wicked Signor who is dead--birbanti--ladroni. The evil eye--the evil eye."
Coughing as she went the old woman hobbled out of the room. Dr. Jim sat still wondering if he was about to learn the truth at last. If Pentland Corn was to be believed, Mrs. Marsh had been at "The Pines" about the hour when the crime had been committed. Herrick did not now believe that she had killed the man herself, as she had been possessed of the modern revolver with which the three shots had been fired. It was impossible to imagine that she had fired one shot with an old-fashioned weapon, and had then reverted to the use of the new revolver. No! The first shot,--the death shot had been fired by some one else, possibly by Frisco. Mrs. Marsh had met the assassin in the house, but for reasons of her own had not divulged the name.
Also judging from her conversation she had known a great deal about Carr and Frisco, especially about the latter, seeing that she had warned Jim that Frisco might attempt to kill Stephen. As a matter of fact although the man had not struck the blow himself, he had guided the hand of Santiago to strike it. Herrick wondered if Mrs. Marsh would say anything about the Mexican. "At all events I shall know the truth at last," he said. "After reading this letter, the mystery will be one no longer. But why did Mrs. Marsh delay such important information all this time?"
This was a question he could not answer. He was still puzzling over it when Petronella entered the room carrying a large blue envelope, sealed with the Carr crest. This she handed to Herrick with much ceremony. "There is my trust Signor," she croaked, "bear witness by all the saints that I gave it only when the young Signor was in danger."
"That is all right Petronella. I shall read it here. Will you stay?"
"No, Signor Dottore. I do not want to hear the secrets of my padrona. I go to make myself a meal Signor. You stay here and read. A glass of wine Signor Dottore. Eh, pour l'amor di Dio, un bicchiére de Chianti?"
Herrick politely refused the attention, and Petronella went grumbling out of the room. She was a hospitable old soul, and liked the doctor. When he was alone in that dismal, deserted, apartment, he drew up his chair close to the window and opened the envelope. Five or six sheets of closely-written paper fell out; also a typewritten letter. After a glance at this last, Dr. Jim smoothed out the paper and began to read. The story---as it might be called--commenced abruptly. This impetuosity was extremely characteristic of Mrs. Marsh. After a glance round the room Dr. Jim settled to read. The manuscript was as follows:--
"I am a wicked woman and an evil woman. There you see Mr. Herrick I place my character before you in 'the first line. I know you are no fool, or I should not make such a confession. But when you read these pages I shall be in my grave, so what you say or think does not matter. If these pages are made public, there will be blame enough from other people. To save my boy they must be made public. I can foresee that he 'will be accused of the murder of that beast Carr. I swear that he is innocent. He knows nothing. From the grave I send out my voice to defend him. And you are a clever man Herrick. The defence of my poor boy I confide to you. If you do not do your best I swear to haunt you if it be possible for the dead to return. But after all, you are too sensible to be frightened by this 'talk. Let me get to the facts of the case. Those will interest you more than the ravings of a dying woman. So I begin:--"
"I have said that Colonel Carr was a beast. I repeat 'it. He was a cruel tiger. Rolling in wealth, he refused 'to give me any money. Yet he knew that I was accustomed to luxury, and that Stephen was his nephew. No wonder I hated the man. Again and again I implored 'him almost on my knees to allow me sufficient to live on. He always refused with his sneering laugh. Often I wonder that I did not kill him. Yet he had one good point. He had loved his sister, and out of love for her memory, he made Stephen his heir. He also caused him to be educated, but when that was done, he refused to 'allow him an income to live like a gentleman. I hated Carr for that. Even if he had not allowed me money, still his own sister's child should not have felt the pinch of poverty. I love Stephen. He is a kind, good boy, and has put up with my vile temper all these years. Now that he is rich I hope he will marry Ida (if she does not 'prefer you, and I do not think that is likely), and live the happy life of a country gentleman. My blessings on them both.
"To come to the point which I know you want to reach. On the night of Carr's murder I was at the rectory. It came to my ears through some words dropped by Frisco when he was intoxicated, that Carr intended to disinherit my son. Whom he intended to favour I do not know, nor do I care. But I could not stand meekly by and see the lad robbed of what was righteously his own. I went into Saxham that afternoon to see Carr and to remonstrate against his committing the monstrous injustice he contemplated. He saw me with the greatest coolness and behaved quite in accordance with his character. In vain did I point out that Stephen was the sole living representative of his blood, and was entitled by law to the property. Carr said that he had another relative living; a cousin descended from an uncle of his, who had been turned out of doors by his grandfather. This uncle had married in America, and had died, leaving a daughter who married a Yankee. It was the son of this daughter to whom Carr referred as his cousin. Furthermore he declared that his cousin had a son about the age of my Stephen. I asked him if he intended to leave the property to this cousin and his brat. But this he denied. He said that he had made the money himself and would leave it to whomsoever he pleased. In a word he defied me. I was helpless. I could do nothing, and that afternoon I left 'The Pines' mad with rage, after a threat to kill Carr. Needless to say he laughed at my threat.