“On her behalf!” I gasped. “What is it?”
“That you do not prejudge her. She has left you because—well, because she had good reason. But one day, when you know the truth, you will certainly not judge her too harshly.”
“I do not judge her harshly,” I protested. “How can I, when I love her as devotedly as I do! I feel confident that the misfortunes she has brought upon me were not of her own seeking.”
“She very narrowly escaped the vengeance of those two assassins,” Guertin said; “how narrowly, neither you nor she will ever know. For months I have watched them closely, both here and in France and Germany, in order to catch them red-handed; but they have been too clever for me, and we must rely upon the evidence which that back-garden in Porchester Terrace will now yield up. The gang is part of a great criminal association, that society of international thieves of which one member was the man you knew as Harriman, and whose real name was Bell—now at Devil’s Island for the murder of the rising young English parliamentary Under-Secretary Ronald Burke. The murder was believed to have been committed with a political motive, and through certain false evidence furnished by the man Pennington, a person named Louis Lessar, chief of the band, was first arrested, and condemned by the Assize Court of the Seine. Both were sent to Devil’s Island for life, but recently Lessar escaped, and was daring enough to come to England as Mr. Lewis.”
“Lewis!” I gasped. “That was the fellow with whom my wife escaped—the man who presided over the secret deliberations of the gang at their assembly at Stamford!”
“Yes. Once a British officer, he had been leader of the great criminal organization before his arrest. They were the most formidable in Europe, for they always acted on scientific principles, and always well provided with funds. Some of their coups were utterly amazing. But on his arrest and imprisonment the society dwindled under the leadership of Pennington, a low-bred blackguard, who could not even be loyal to his associates.”
“Excuse me, sir,” remarked the sergeant, again shown into the room by Browning. “Our C.I.D. men have been at work all day in the garden behind that house in Porchester Terrace. A big hole was found dug there, and already they’ve turned up the remains of two persons—a man and a woman. I ought to have told you that we had it over the telegraph at the station about an hour ago. Superintendent Mayhew and Professor Salt have been there to examine the remains recovered.”
“Two victims!” I exclaimed. “The open grave found there was prepared for me!”
“No doubt,” exclaimed Guertin. “When I first communicated with your Scotland Yard, they refused to believe my allegations against Reckitt and Forbes. But I had had my suspicions aroused by their actions in Paris, and I was positive. But oh! your police methods are so very painfully slow!”
Then the sergeant again withdrew.