Devil's Dice Part 30

Her face was drawn and haggard, around her eyes were dark rings, and her features that had been so admired seemed now almost hideous, while the dress she wore, soiled and tumbled, was the same handsome evening gown in which I had seen her determinedly entering that room.

"Go!" she screamed suddenly. "Do not torture me, you brute! Let me die, I say! Let me kill myself!" and as she uttered the words she tore at her throat with both hands in an attempt to strangle herself.

Grindlay flew to her side and with difficulty gripped her hands. But she seemed possessed of demon strength, and even the detective, muscular and athletic as he was, found he had a hard task to hold her down.

"Do you know her?" he gasped at last, turning to me. "Who is she?"

"An old friend," I answered, with poignant sorrow. "Her name is Dora; she is younger daughter of Lady Stretton."

"Lady Stretton--Stretton," the detective repeated thoughtfully. "The name is familiar. Ah! I remember. The lady who benefits so largely by the murdered man's will is eldest daughter of her ladys.h.i.+p, isn't she?"

I nodded in the affirmative, but the violent struggles of the would-be suicide interrupted our conversation, and our combined efforts were necessary in order to prevent her from accomplis.h.i.+ng her purpose.

The melancholy fact could not be disguised that Dora, whose beauty had been so frequently commented upon by Society journals, and whose appearance in ball-rooms since she "came out" had never failed to cause a sensation, was actually insane. The bright fire of madness was in her eyes as she wildly accused me of unknown crimes. She did not address me by name, but evidently in her hallucination believed me to be an enemy of whom she had just cause for the bitterest hatred. When I tried to seize her hands she shrank from me as if my contact stung her, and when I gripped her determinedly she fought and bit with a strength of which I had never believed a woman capable.

In the fierce straggle the lamp was nearly overturned, and at length Grindlay, finding that all attempts to calm her proved futile, slipped a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and with a murmur of apology for treating any friend of mine, and especially a lady, with such indignity, he locked them upon her slender wrists.

"It is the only way we can manage her," he said. "We must, however, be careful of her head."

Already she was swaying her head from side to side, uttering strings of wild, incoherent words, and after brief consultation it was arranged that the detective should call up his a.s.sistant, who had remained on guard below, and we should then convey the unfortunate girl to her home.

After two shrill blasts upon the inspector's whistle we were quickly joined by his a.s.sistant, who, without betraying any surprise at this discovery, recognised the position of affairs at a glance, and at once held Dora's head, in order to prevent her injuring herself.

"Remain here, and keep a sharp eye on her while we search the place,"

Grindlay commanded; and taking up the lantern and jemmy we returned together to the s.p.a.cious, faded room wherein the strange marriage ceremony had taken place. The boudoir had no other door leading out of it, except the one communicating with the larger apartment that we had burst open, and with its window closely shuttered, the cries of any person held captive were not likely to be heard, for the window overlooked the garden, and there were no pa.s.sers-by.

From the floor whereon we had made this amazing discovery we ascended, searching diligently, even to the garrets, but found nothing noteworthy.

Each room was dusty, neglected, and decaying, but they showed plainly that the mansion had once been furnished in luxurious tasteful style, and that its splendour had long ago departed.

When we had arrived at the topmost garret, Grindlay, who had moved quickly, almost silently, poking into every corner, and leaving no place uninspected large enough for any person to conceal himself, paused, and, turning to me, said:

"This affair is, I confess, a most remarkable one! In the same house, to all appearances closed and uninhabited, we find the body of the murdered man concealed, and the sister of the woman he admired insane, apparently held captive."

"By whom?" I queried.

"Ah! We must ascertain that," he said, flas.h.i.+ng his lantern suddenly into a far corner, but finding nothing. "There must be some exceptionally strong motive for keeping your young lady friend away from her home. Has she, as far as you are aware, ever before shown signs of insanity?"

"Never; I have known her ever since a child, and her mind has been always normal. She was particularly intelligent, an excellent pianist, and a fair linguist."

"Some sight unusually horrible, a paroxysm of bitter grief, or some great terror, may have temporarily unhinged her mind. Let us hope it is not incurable," he said, sympathetically.

"Do you think she is really demented?" I asked eagerly. "Will she never recover?"

"I really can't tell you; I'm not a mental specialist," he answered.

"It's true that I've seen two similar cases among women."

"And did they recover?"

He hesitated, then looking at me gravely he answered: "No; unfortunately they did not One woman, whose symptoms were similar, had murdered her child. The other had so severely injured her husband by throwing a lighted lamp at him that he is incurable. Both are now at Woking Asylum."

"Is there no hope for them?"

"None. In each case I made the arrest, and the doctor afterward told me that their condition of mind was consequent upon the realisation of the enormity of their crimes."

Dora's symptoms were the same as those of murderesses. Such suggestion was appalling.

"Do you then suspect that Lady Stretton's daughter, Mabel, is--has committed a crime?"

"Hardly that," he replied, quickly. "We must, I think, seek for the guilty one in another quarter." He seemed to speak with conviction.

"In which quarter?" I eagerly inquired.

"I have formed no definite opinion at present," he replied quietly. "If we can induce your lady friend to speak rationally for a few minutes she may confirm or dispel my suspicions. Our discoveries this evening have made one fact plain, and they will be the cause of the withdrawal of one warrant," he added, looking at me with a curious smile.

"For whose arrest?"

"Your own."

"A warrant for my arrest!" I cried in dismay. "What do you mean? I have committed no offence."

"Exactly. I have already proved that to my entire satisfaction, and that is the reason the warrant in my pocket will to-morrow be cancelled."

"But why was it ever issued?" I demanded.

"Because certain suspicions attached themselves to you. Did it never occur to you that it was you yourself upon whom I was keeping observation on that evening we spent together at the Empire?"

"It did; but the suggestion seemed so preposterous that I cast it aside.

Now, however, I see that the reason you took me to Scotland Yard was to show me two photographs in your book. One was a picture of myself, and the other that of a woman I loved--"

"You loved her--eh?" he interrupted.

"Yes. But why do you speak in that tone?" I inquired. "You seem to suggest that my affection was misdirected."

"Pardon me," he said politely. "I suggest nothing--nothing beyond the fact that it was an indiscretion, as was surely proved by later events."

"Later events!" I echoed. "Then you know the truth, Grindlay! Tell me--tell me all, if you are my friend."

"Before we make an arrest our clues are secret," the inspector said, not unkindly. "By divulging any of them the ends of justice may be defeated. All I can tell you at present is, that we held a warrant for the arrest of that lady whose portrait adorns our collection, and it was not executed, for the reason stated below it in red ink."

"Because she died. Yes; I am aware of it," I said. "I was present when she breathed her last, when the police burst into this house, and when they retired on finding the person `wanted' was no longer alive. But for what offence was that warrant issued? Surely I, her husband, have a right to know?"

"I regret, Mr Ridgeway, I am unable to tell you," he replied evasively.

"You must be well aware that I was abroad at the time, and the warrant, therefore, did not pa.s.s through my hands."

I saw in this a polite refusal to give me the information I sought, and was piqued in consequence. Soon we descended the stairs to the room where Dora remained, still uttering incoherent sentences, and after consultation the two police officers called a cab, and having placed the unfortunate girl in it we all drove to Lady Stretton's, the inspector having first taken the precaution to send to the nearest police station for a "plain-clothes man" to mount guard over the house wherein the body of the murdered man was lying.

Our arrival at Lady Stretton's caused the greatest consternation among the servants, her ladys.h.i.+p, and her two lady visitors. Lady Stretton herself fainted, the family doctor, a noted mental specialist, was quickly summoned, and Dora taken to her room. From the servants I gathered that Dora had only been absent from home for two days, and that very little anxiety had been felt on her account, for it was believed that having had some disagreement with her mother, and having announced her intention of visiting some friends in Yorks.h.i.+re, she had gone thither.

It was, however, a most severe blow to all when she returned in the custody of two police officers a raving lunatic.