The Solitary Farm Part 12

"I was not dreaming," she interrupted vehemently, "and I saw you before I drank the drugged tea. I called to you, and you looked up; but you entered the house without making any sign of recognition. Then I fell asleep, and--and--oh,--my dear"--she flung herself down at his feet and seized his hand. "What took place between my father and you? I'm sure you did not kill him. I am quite sure of that, and, remember, I held my tongue. Yes, I held----"

"Oh," groaned the young man, looking down into her agitated face. "I am losing my reason. You will shortly persuade me that I killed----"

"But you did not--you did not. Ah, never say that you did."

"No," said Lister shortly, and rose so suddenly as to let her fall, "and if you believe me to be a murderer, we had better part."

"I don't! I don't!" she wailed, stretching out her hands, as he strode towards the door. "Oh, Cyril, don't leave me. You are all I have."

Lister was in a white heat with rage, and stood fumbling at the door.

But a backward glance at her pale face cooled him somewhat. He recognised that he was in the presence of some mystery, and that it was necessary for his own peace of mind, as for Bella's, to probe the mystery to the bottom. On the impulse of the moment he walked back, and lifting her, placed her again in the arm-chair. Then he knelt beside her, and took her hands. "Darling," he said, softly and firmly, "I swear to you, what I would not swear to any living creature, that I am innocent. If anyone but you had accused me, I should have----"

"Cyril! Cyril!" She wreathed her arms round his neck, "I only fancied, but I really did not think that----"

He removed her arms. "You should believe in my innocence in the face of all evidence," he said sternly.

"But my own eyes," she faltered.

He frowned. "That certainly is puzzling; still, the drug----"

"I saw you enter the house before I drunk the tea," she protested. "I told you that before."

"Your senses were quite clear?"

"Perfectly clear. And I thought that you had come to try and induce my father to consent to our marriage."

"Strange," muttered the young man. "I was not near the house."

"Are you sure? are you sure?"

"Oh!" Lister's tone was highly exasperated. "You will drive me mad, talking in this way. Hearken," he added, speaking calmer, "when I left you and Captain Huxham in the corn-field, I went straight back to my lodgings. There I found a letter referring to the thousand pounds I wished to borrow. I had to see the friend who was willing to lend it to me on that night. I therefore went to London by the six o'clock train.

My landlady can prove that I left the house; the flyman can prove that I drove to the local station; the ticket office there that I bought a ticket, and the guard of the train shut me himself in a first-cla.s.s compartment. That is evidence enough, I fancy."

"Yes. Yes, for me, but----"

"But I might have sneaked back, I suppose you mean?" he said bitterly, and rising to walk the floor. "I can prove an _alibi_ easily. At eight o'clock I was at my friend's rooms in Duke Street, St. James's, as his man can swear. He had gone to Paris, and I arranged to follow. I went to the theatre, and to dinner with two friends of mine, and did not leave them until one in the morning, when I returned to my hotel. The murder took place at eleven, or between eight and eleven, so I can easily prove that I was not here. Next morning I went to Paris, and got the money from my friend. I lingered there with him, and only returned yesterday, to learn that your father was dead. Then I came down here this morning to--meet with this reception."

"Cyril! Cyril! Don't be hard on me."

"Are you not hard yourself?" he retorted. "How can I love a woman who doubts me? Besides, robbery was the motive for the commission of the crime. Am I likely to stab an old man, and then rob him?"

"No, I never believed, and yet----"

"And yet what?" he asked curtly.

"You--you--wanted a thousand pounds."

"Oh"--his lip curled--"and you believed that I robbed your father's safe to get it. Unfortunately, I understood, from your aunt's evidence at the inquest, that only one hundred pounds in gold were in the safe, so I must have committed a brutal murder needlessly."

"I never said that you murdered my father," cried Bella despairingly.

"You inferred as much," he retorted cuttingly; "also that I robbed----"

"No, no, no!" she cried vehemently, now thoroughly believing him to be completely innocent, and trying woman-like to recover her position.

"But, Cyril, listen to me, and you will see that as things look I was justified----"

"Nothing can justify your believing me to be guilty of a double crime."

Bella bowed her proud head. "I can see that now," she said humbly.

"You should have seen it before," he replied harshly.

She raised her head, and looked at him indignantly, bringing into play the powerful weapon of s.e.x. "You give me no opportunity of defending myself," she said, in the offended tone of a woman wronged.

"I ask your pardon, and give you the opportunity now," he replied coldly.

"I saw you enter the house," she repeated somewhat weakly.

"That is impossible," he rejoined briefly.

"Oh!" She clasped her hands together. "What is the use of saying that?

It was not you, since I firmly believe what you tell me; all the same----"

Cyril sprang forward, seized her hands, and looked deep into her eyes "You believe me, then?"

"Yes, I do. But if the man was not you, he must have been your double."

"Was he so like me, then?"

"Exactly like you. Don't I tell you, Cyril, that I leaned out of the window and spoke to the man. I called him by your name."

"What did he do?"

"He looked up, but making no sign of recognition stepped into the house, as the door was not locked. I never believed for one moment that it was not you, and resolved to clamber out of the window to be present at the interview. Then I drank the drugged tea, and----" she made a gesture of despair--"you know the rest."

"How was the man dressed?"

"In a grey suit, just as you wore in the afternoon."

"You saw the face?"

"I saw it very plainly, although the twilight was growing darker at the time. But I could have sworn it was your face. Would I have spoken to the man had I not believed him to be you?"

"No, and yet"--Cyril stopped, and tugged at his moustache. His face had grown pale, and he looked decidedly worried. "The man was of my height?"

"He was like you in every respect. Perhaps if I had seen him in broad daylight I might have recognised my mistake unless--oh, Cyril, could it have been your ghost?"

"No," said Lister, in a strangled voice, "don't be absurd. I have an idea that----" he made for the door. "There's nothing more to say."