when the inquest was over, and dr. lester had departed for marborough gaol under the escort of inspector drek, the young journalist remained standing thoughtfully in the square before the inn. nobody was surprised at the verdict, and everyone--as paul could hear asserted on all sides--believed that dr. lester had murdered his own daughter while in a state of frenzy induced by intoxication. but mexton had his doubts about the matter, principally on account of the words spoken by iris when she wished him to cease from searching for the assassin. he wished to question her as to what she meant; and implore her, if she knew the truth, to reveal it and save her unfortunate stepfather. while he was considering the advisability of following iris to poverty villa, he felt a touch on his arm. it was eliza, and her face was grave.
"i want to speak t' you, sir, if y' don't mind," she said quietly, with an entire absence of her former self-importance; "but not here; i want t' speak you--alone."
"why? is anything wrong?"
"i think so, mr. mexton--and with miss iris."
"miss iris?" repeated paul, glancing round. "where is she?"
"she's gone home. you follow her, sir, and ask her a question."
"what kind of question?" demanded paul, startled by this hint.
eliza drew mexton to one side, until they were both out of earshot of the scattered groups, and bent forward to whisper in his ear, "ask her why she went out after they brought home the corpse of miss milly?" she said; and before paul could make any comment on this remark, she laid her finger on her mouth, and walked away.
at first paul intended to follow her, and demand an explanation; but on consideration he deemed it best to take her advice, and ask the question directly of iris herself. more would be learnt by thus going to the fountain-head. eliza evidently suspected something; and, afraid to question iris directly, had hinted her suspicions to paul that he might do so. with his usual promptitude mexton sent over his notes on the trial by special messenger to the editor of the "tory times" at marborough; and set forth at a brisk walk to poverty villa. he believed firmly at the moment that the saving of dr. lester from suffering unjustly lay in the hands of his step-daughter.
as he passed along the street towards the desolate house in which the poor girl was waiting, he was surprised to meet with herne, and still more surprised when herne stopped to speak; for the man was not over-friendly towards him.
"what do you think of the verdict?" asked the squire abruptly.
"it seems just enough, going by the evidence," replied mexton cautiously.
"no doubt. this is one of those cases in which circumstantial evidence accumulates to hang an innocent man."
"you believe dr. lester to be innocent?"
"i do--as surely as i believe lovel to be guilty."
"my dear sir!" protested the journalist. "lovel proved his innocence by an alibi."
"no doubt; on the evidence of that old witch mother jimboy. bah! a made-up plot!"
"i don't think so, herne. why should mother jimboy assist lovel?"
"why?" repeated the squire--"because blood is thicker than water; and, i told you the other day, lovel has got gipsy blood in his veins."
"who told you so?"
"the lady at whose name you blushed when i mentioned it in the winding lane."
"catinka?" said paul, blushing again.
"yes; catinka, the violinist. lovel knows her, and told her that his mother was romany, perhaps the daughter of gran jimboy--who knows? that is why the old woman lied."
"because lovel is her grandson?"
"no, no; i am not sure of that; but because lovel is a half-gipsy. but in spite of the alibi i believe he is guilty. i'll prove his guilt and hang him!"
"why do you hate him so, herne?"
"because he led that poor girl to her death. i wished to save the soul of milly; but it is lost, and lovel is the cause. besides, i believe it is my duty to succor the afflicted, and of the afflicted dr. lester is one. an innocent man shall not die on the scaffold if i can help it. god forbid! i'll save lester, and hang lovel. the end of this tragedy has not yet come, mexton."
"but if you----"
herne waved his hand and interrupted mexton.
"i can't waste any more time discussing the matter," he said, retreating. "i'll see you again when i have proofs to hang lovel." after which speech he walked rapidly away, without the courtesy of an adieu.
"mad!" said paul to himself, and resumed his interrupted journey towards poverty villa. in his own heart the young man believed that herne was insane; his fanaticism in religion was a proof of an ill-balanced mind; and now this furious hatred of lovel--just enough, in the face of lovel's attentions to milly in wilful disregard of the engagement with herne--threatened to rob him of all his self-control. failing to fasten the crime on lovel, and it seemed impossible to do so, herne was quite capable of shooting the man in a fit of rage. knowing that chaskin had most influence over darcy, the journalist determined to put him on his guard relative to the squire's hatred of lovel. but this warning word need not be spoken immediately; and in the meantime paul was anxious to see iris.
the door of poverty villa was wide open; and the untidy house in its neglected garden looked more desolate than ever. lester was on his way to marborough gaol; milly was lying in her coffin at the herne arms; and eliza had not yet returned. therefore paul knew that iris was alone in the house with a heavy burden of grief to bear. slipping lightly into the passage, he glanced through the open door of the dining-room, but she was not there. the drawing-room was also empty; so as a last resource he softly opened the door of the consulting-room, and beheld the poor girl seated at the desk with her head bowed on her folded arms. sobs were shaking her frame, and she looked as though the sorrows of the past week were crushing her to the earth.
"iris," he said softly, "my poor girl."
with an exclamation she lifted her head, and on seeing paul rose to her feet hastily, brushing away the tears from her face. then, with a little gasp, she moved forward with outstretched hands, to greet the only friend who remained to her in the desolation of her life.
"paul," she said with relief, "oh, my dear, i am glad to see you!"
he led her to a seat, and, taking a chair beside her, pressed her hand warmly. "my dear iris," said he, "at such a time you need the services of your best friend. let me be that friend."
"thank you, paul," she said faintly. "oh, this horrible tragedy! shall i ever get it out of my head?"
"time will bring comfort, iris. in the meantime, let me ask what you intend to do now? you cannot remain here."
"no; you are right there. milly is dead; her father is in gaol on the charge of having killed her, and i am alone in the world."
"have you any money?"
"not one penny. the last money i got from my step-father went to pay last week's bills."
"then you cannot remain here, as i said before."
"where am i to go?" asked iris helplessly.
"to marborough--to my mother. she told me to ask you."
"how good and kind of her, paul! i should like--but, oh!" she burst out, "how can i go to marborough to be pointed out as the relative of a murderer?"
"wait one moment before you call dr. lester by that name, iris. are you sure that he is the murderer of milly?"
"i don't know. i can't say. the verdict at the inquest----"
"never mind the verdict at the inquest," interposed paul quickly. "i want to know what you think."
"why do you want to know what i think?"
"because i believe you can save an innocent man from being hanged."
"i? no, no! i can do nothing!"
"iris," said mexton, taking her hand, "you asked me never to look for the assassin of milly. did you do so to save dr. lester?"
"no. at that time i did not think that he would be accused."
"then you suspect someone?"
"i--i have my suspicions," she said, in hesitating tones.
"what are they? to whom do they point?"
"i can't tell you. i am not certain. i may be deceived. paul!" cried iris in desperation, "don't ask me. my answer may condemn an innocent person!"
"your silence acts in the same way, iris. dr. lester is in danger of death, and you know he is innocent."
"he is--he is! i don't believe that he killed milly. but how should i know the name of the real assassin?"
"because you saw him on that night."
"i? i was not out on that night--at least, after the body was brought home."
"iris, why will you lie to me? eliza saw you leave the house after midnight."
"eliza! ah, that wretched girl has brought ruin on us all!"
"not so--if i can save you. tell me--did you go out?"
"wait--wait! i'll answer in a moment. give me time."
she rose to her feet, and, with clasped hands, walked twice or thrice up and down the room. evidently she was considering what to say, and after some thought she faced round on paul.
"i shall tell you," she said slowly, "but you will use the knowledge to hunt down the assassin of milly?"
"assuredly! i wish to save dr. lester from suffering an unjust death."
"so do i, so do i! but, oh!"--she struck her hand together--"was ever a woman placed in such a position? if i could only speak!"
"you must," said paul determinedly, "or else have your step-father's death at your door. come, iris, do you know the name of the assassin?"
"no, but i suspect----"
"suspect whom?"
"lucas lovel."
mexton rose from his seat in astonishment. "do you believe him guilty, as herne does?"
"does mr. herne believe in his guilt?" asked iris quickly.
"so thoroughly that he intends to bring lovel to the scaffold."
"he will never succeed in doing so," cried the girl involuntarily.
"why not?"
"he will not be able to obtain any evidence."
"i'm not so sure of that," said mexton drily. "herne is a fanatic; he is clever; he is extremely pertinacious; and he hates lovel like poison."
"for all that, i do not believe he will be able to accumulate sufficient evidence to get mr. lovel arrested. besides, he has a clever foe, who will defend mr. lovel."
"a foe?" said paul, puzzled--"and the name of the foe?"
"mother jimboy."
"what! that old fool! how can she defend lovel?"
"she did so to-day by that alibi. she will do so again, you may be sure."
"what reason have you to believe that mrs. jimboy is implicated in the case!"
iris thought for a moment. "on the day before milly was killed," she said, slowly, "she and mr. lovel met with gran jimboy, who prophesied by palmistry that milly would die a violent death."
"you don't say so! go on."
"well, milly did perish by violence the next night. i truly believe that she met lovel in the winding lane, and that he killed her."
"why should he kill her? he loved her."
"he did--so much that he killed her rather than that mr. herne should marry her. i tell you, paul, that mr. lucas is a man of violent passions, and i believe he was egged on by mother jimboy to the murder."
"why should mother jimboy desire milly's death?"
"i don't know; no more than i can guess why she provided that lying alibi. i am sure that lovel shot milly, and then went across the common to mother jimboy's tent so as to appear innocent."
"but why do you believe all this?"
"because of the prophecy which was fulfilled; because of the unexplained association of mother jimboy and lovel, and because i saw lovel when i went out after midnight."
"you saw lovel?" said paul, incredulously.
"yes; i fancied that dr. lester might have killed milly; and to save him i went to look for him. i could not find him on the fatal spot, but there was a man there who ran away when he heard my approach. i saw his face in the moonlight. he was mr. lovel."
