"I was walking along under the shadow of the hedge, while he walked over the open, undulating ground," was the girl's reply. "On recognizing the Master seated there, he was apparently seized by a sudden impulse of revenge—perhaps cupidity as well—for I saw him creep up behind the seat, and taking something from his pocket, thrust it quick as a flash into the old man's face. The man attacked clawed the air frantically, rose to his feet, staggered a few steps, and reeling, fell to the ground without uttering a sound—dead. I saw, in my uncle's hand a strange-looking and most terrible instrument, which he sometimes carried when engaged on one of his desperate exploits, a specially-constructed pistol the barrel of which was of soft india-rubber and finishing in a bell-mouth about three inches across. This he had suddenly pressed over the old man's nose and mouth—as he had done, alas! I knew, in other cases where the victim had been found dead, and doctors had been unable to establish the mysterious cause—then, pulling the trigger, he had discharged a glass capsule containing a mixture of compressed amyl nitrate and hydrocyanic gas, which, when released, a single inhalation caused instant death. The discoverer of the compound killed himself accidentally by it. Aghast, I stood watching him. He bent and examined the dead man's face. Then he searched his pockets, took out something, and then, moving quickly, dashed away towards the town, evidently alarmed at his own action."
And the girl paused, the accused man before her shouting strenuous denials.
"The instant he had gone," she continued, "I crept over the grass, past the seat whereon the dead man had rested, and, bending to see if he was still breathing, I found to my horror and dismay that it was not the Master at all, but his supposed nephew, Richard Perceval! Back I hurried to the house where we had rooms, and entering noiselessly—for I had been taught to move without noise at night"—and she smiled grimly at me. "I found my uncle had, fortunately, not yet come in. Therefore I retired to bed. Next morning we left hurriedly for London, Jeanjean not daring to face Vernon after what had occurred, and moreover, ignorant of the fact that Vernon had left Cromer during the night, alarmed by the real Edouard Craig calling upon him, and hinting that he knew the truth concerning certain recent jewel robberies. Jeanjean, however, returned to Cromer a few days later, and I followed and helped to secure the jewels Vernon had left behind."
"Yes," Craig exclaimed. "True. I saw nothing of Perceval on that evening when I called upon old Vernon. My visit, however, completely upset him. Lola had telegraphed to me that she was coming to England, therefore I asked Vernon where she was. The old scoundrel replied that she was in Cromer, and that if I went at a certain hour at night to a seat upon the East Cliff, which he indicated, I should meet her there—that she had a tryst with a secret lover. This naturally upset me, and I went, only to discover Perceval, dressed in the old man's cape and hat, lying stark dead. Why was he wearing those clothes, I wonder?"
"I have only recently learnt the truth," Lola answered. "When you, saw the old man, he believed me to be still in Paris, but when you inquired for me he, keen and crafty as he was, instantly discerned a means by which to entrap you. Therefore, saying nothing of his fear and intended flight to Perceval, he arranged with that young impostor that the latter should go to the seat dressed as himself, face you on your arrival, Edouard, and close your mouth for ever by exactly the same dastardly, silent and instant method as that adopted by Jeanjean—the gas pistol. My uncle found the weapon upon the body and carried it off."
"You had a very narrow escape, Mr. Craig," I remarked. "I sincerely congratulate you."
"Ah! I know," the young man said hastily. "Had not that man yonder killed Perceval by mistake, I should most certainly by now have been a dead man. But when I quickly realized the tragedy that had happened, and feared lest I might be suspected, I went off, and making my way out of the town, I walked through the night for twenty miles to Norwich, whence I took train to London, and at once back to Italy."
"Did you afterwards read of the affair in the papers?" asked Sommerville, amazed, like ourselves at the startling revelations.
"Of course. I followed every detail. But I did not come forward, for two reasons. First I was—I frankly confess—deeply in love with Lola, and feared to implicate her; and, secondly, for my mother's sake. I had no desire to be mixed up in such an unsavoury and sensational affair, or with such a notorious gang of criminals."
"Did you see much of Lola after the affair at Cromer?" I queried.