Who? Part 43

Griggs opened the door and called:

"Jones, the bag, please."

The inspector handed it to Amy.

She looked at it for a moment. Cyril watched her breathlessly. What would she say? Had the moment come when he must proclaim the truth?

"Am I supposed to have bought this bag?" she asked.

"No, my lady. It was sold to Prentice, who was sempstress at Geralton and we believe it is the one in which Lady Wilmersley carried off her jewels."

Amy gave a m.u.f.fled exclamation, but almost instantly she regained her composure.

"If that is so, how do you connect me with it? Because it happens to have been found here, do you accuse me of having robbed my cousin?"

"No, my lady, but as you spent the night of the murder in Newhaven----"

To Cyril's surprise she shuddered from head to foot.

"No, no!" she cried, stretching out her hands as if to ward off a blow.

"It is useless to deny it. His Lords.h.i.+p himself told me that you had joined him there."

"I lied! It was not her Ladys.h.i.+p who was with me. Her Ladys.h.i.+p was in Paris at the time. I swear it on my honour. The bag is--is mine. You can arrest me. I am guilty." Thank G.o.d, thought Cyril, he had at last found a way of saving both his love and his honour.

"Guilty of what, my lord? Of a murder which was committed while you were still in France--" asked Griggs, lifting his eyebrows incredulously.

"Yes! I mean I instigated it--I hated my cousin--I needed the money, so I hired an accomplice. He bungled things. I give myself up. I confess.

What more do you want?" cried Cyril.

"Not so fast, my lord. Of course, if you insist upon it, I shall have to arrest you, but I don't believe you had anything more to do with the murder than I had, and I would stake my reputation on your being as straight a gentleman as I ever met professionally. Wait a bit, my lord, don't be 'asty." In his excitement Griggs dropped one of his carefully guarded aitches.

The door opened.

"Mr. Campbell, my lord."

"Guy," exclaimed Cyril. "You have arrived in the nick of time. I have confessed."

"Confessed what?" Campbell cast a bewildered look at the inspector.

"His Lords.h.i.+p says that he hired an a.s.sa.s.sin to murder Lord Wilmersley."

"What rot! You don't believe him, I hope?"

"He _shall_ believe me," cried Cyril. "I alone am responsible for Wilmersley's death. The person who actually fired the shot was nothing but my tool. I will never betray him, never!"

"Honour among murderers, I see! Really, Cyril, you are too ridiculous,"

exclaimed Campbell.

Suddenly he caught sight of Amy, cowering in the shadow of the curtain.

"Who is this lady?" he asked.

"My wife! Look after her. Look after everything." Cyril gave Guy a look in which he tried to convey all that he did not dare to say.

The door again opened.

"Mr. Judson is 'ere, my lord. I told him you were engaged, but he says he would like to speak to you most particular."

"I don't want to see him," began Cyril.

"Don't be a greater fool than you can help," exclaimed Campbell. "How do you know that he has not some important news?"

"But--" objected Cyril.

"Good morning, your Lords.h.i.+p. How do you do, Inspector. Mr. Campbell, I believe. Your servant, your Ladys.h.i.+p. I took the liberty of forcing myself upon you at this moment, my lord, because I have just learnt certain facts which----"

"It is too late to report," interposed Cyril hastily. "I have confessed."

The detective smiled indulgently.

"Why, my lord, what is the use of pretending that you had anything to do with the murder? I hurried here to tell you that there is no further need of your sacrificing yourself. I have found out who----"

"Shut up, I say. I did it. It's none of your business anyhow!" cried Cyril incoherently.

"Don't listen to his Lords.h.i.+p," said Amy. "We all know, of course, that he is perfectly innocent. He is trying to s.h.i.+eld some one. But who?" She cast a keen look at Cyril.

"That's just it," Judson agreed. "And it is partly my fault. I convinced his Lords.h.i.+p that Lord Wilmersley was murdered by his wife. I have come here to tell him that I was mistaken. It is lucky that I discovered the truth in time."

"Thank G.o.d!" cried Cyril. "I always knew she was innocent." His relief was so intense that it robbed him of all power of concealment.

Amy's mouth hardened into a straight, inflexible line; her eyes narrowed.

"I suppose that you have some fact to support your extraordinary a.s.sertion?" demanded Griggs, unable to hide his vexation at finding that his rival had evidently outwitted him.

"Certainly, but I will say no more till I have his Lords.h.i.+p's permission. He is my employer, you know."

"What difference does that make?" asked Cyril. "I am more anxious than any one to discover the truth."

"Permit me to suggest, my lord, that it would be better if I could first speak to you in private."

"Nonsense," exclaimed Cyril impatiently. "I am tired of this eternal secrecy. Tell us what you have found out."

The detective's brows contracted slightly.

"Very well, only remember, I warned you."

"That's all right."