paul received this confession in silence, then said: "may i ask why you placed a rainbow feather on the body?"
"for reason particular, mr. critic," replied catinka, calmly. "i wished this good herne to join my society, and give of his money. if not joining freely, i willed that he should be forced to, for his safety. see you, i gave him a rainbow feather, and such a one was found by the dead. then, you conceive, i could swear i never put it on the body, and mr. herne alone could have done it, since no one but he could have a feather like that in barnstead. so you see"--catinka shrugged her shoulders--"he would be called the murderer if i spoke. when he came to me i tell him all this, and vow to speak if he gives me not the money."
"a kind of blackmailing," said paul, wondering at the shameless way in which she spoke. "and what did mr. herne say to this?"
"oh, he will give me a reply when the trial of the caught man is done."
"dr. lester?"
"yes; the father of the dead lady."
"but you know lester is innocent?"
"eh! that may be so," replied catinka, with another shrug; "but how is it that i should know?"
"because you must be aware who fired the shot."
"but no, mr. mexton; i tell you no! i hear the shot; i run forward; i see no one; not mr. lovel, not the good herne. no one person do i see. i put the feather on the body, and run away, in case they say i kill the lady. i get into my carriage at the inn, and go back to marborough; then to london in the railway."
"did you see mr. herne at barnstead at all?"
"no. i saw him at marborough at the railway; then never again."
"do you think he killed the girl?"
"i know not. he says not."
"he'd say anything to save his own neck," rejoined paul, scornfully. "was he in disguise when he went to barnstead?"
"not that i know; but he had a long coat for the rain, and there was no rain. also a white scarf on his neck; not like the dress of a gentleman."
"i see. a disguise. he did not want to be known in barnstead."
catinka made a gesture of indifference. "i know nothing of that," she said. "i have told you all."
"you have," said paul slowly, "and very fully. what is to prevent my telling your pretty plot about the rainbow feather?"
"i care not. if this good herne is free, he will give me the money, since the lady is dead; if you speak, and he is killed by the law--well, he makes a will, and i get his money. it is all so; if i had been afraid, mr. mexton, i should have said not one word. but you see it is all right. i will get money to help my country."
paul rose and took up his hat and cane. he was so disgusted with the way in which she spoke that he wished to leave her as speedily as possible. "i bid you good-day, mademoiselle," he said, marching towards the door. "and allow me to tell you that i consider you a wicked woman."
"ah," catinka shrugged her shoulders--"now you know all, you call me bad names. you are ungrateful--you. but what care i?--not that!" and she snapped her fingers.
"you are shameless."
"bah! bah! bah! go away, you pig of an englishman!" and paul felt that there was nothing for him but to accept this advice. without further words he walked out of the room, pursued by the scornful laughter of catinka. whatever love he might have felt for her beauty was killed by her confession and cruel mirth. when mexton left bloomsbury square he was quite cured of his passion.
on his way back to marborough paul had a carriage all to himself, and he had both time and solitude to consider what use he should make of catinka's statement. it would seem from what she had told him that herne was implicated in the murder--perhaps had committed the deed himself. paul was well aware of herne's temperament; it was that of a fanatic who regarded bodies less than souls; who would slay the one to save the other, he was of the same nature as torquemada of spain. if herne fancied that milly was likely to go astray with the too fascinating lovel, the journalist was quite sure that he would have had no hesitation in killing the girl and would glorify himself for the deed. catinka had said that the anonymous letters had made herne jealous; but with this view paul did not agree. if herne had shot milly lester he had done the deed with the pitiless zeal of a fanatic.
"i only wonder that he did not proclaim his doings to all barnstead," mused paul. "if he fancied in his fanaticism that he was justified in killing the girl he would certainly not hesitate to acknowledge his guilt; he would not let an innocent man suffer for his crime--though, to be sure, if he killed milly, he did not regard the deed as a crime. his silence is the sole argument in favour of his innocence."
and, indeed, if herne were not guilty how could he explain his stealthy visit to barnstead, his going thither in disguise, and his silence regarding his presence in the village on the night of the murder? no doubt he had come by stealth, lest milly, hearing that he was back, should have refused to meet lovel, and so have hidden her flirtation from the eyes of her future husband. there was no doubt, again, that herne had been in the village on the night of the murder, since after receipt of the anonymous letters, he would hardly have remained ignorant at marborough; but, on the other hand, there was no proof that he had been in the winding lane. brent had seen miss clyde, but not herne. iris, on going to the spot after the crime, had beheld lovel, but not herne; and in no way had the fact of herne's presence at barnstead come out in the evidence collected by drek. but for the evidence of catinka--which seemed genuine enough--it would be impossible in any way to implicate darcy herne in the crime.
after considerable thought paul determined to seek out and question lovel. that young man, on the evidence of miss clyde and brent, had been with milly almost at the hour of the murder. this was the more probable as, terrified lest he should be accused, lovel had induced gran jimboy to tell a lie on his behalf. mexton considered himself absolved from the promise he had made to herne, since catinka's statement had implicated the squire in the crime. he therefore arranged in his own mind to force a confession from lovel, and threaten him with arrest should he prove obdurate. paul knew very well that if he told all he knew to drek there would not be much difficulty in having lovel arrested on suspicion. the very fact of the lying alibi--which could be exposed by brent and miss clyde--would be sufficient to get him into trouble since, if he were innocent, there would have been no need for him to resort to such extreme measures for his safety.
on considering all that he had been told by various people, paul concluded that either lovel or herne was the guilty person, but which one of the two had shot the hapless girl it was hard to say. only the discovery of new evidence could confirm the guilt of the one and the innocence of the other. and it was with the discovery of such evidence that paul charged himself.
from thoughts of the crime mexton drifted into considering his disillusion with regard to the polish violinist. at one time he had loved her for her brilliant beauty, and had thought her kind-hearted and sympathetic. but the conversation he had taken part in; the shameless way in which she confessed to blackmailing herne; and her absolute disregard of all honour, and even common honesty, showed him what sort of woman she was. if herne were a religious fanatic, catinka was frenzied on the point of patriotism; and for her mission she was willing to sacrifice all who stood in the way of its fulfilment. paul quite believed that she had not killed milly; but, short of murder, he fancied that she was capable of all other crimes in order to accomplish her dreams of a free poland.
"how could i have loved such a woman?" groaned paul. "but then it was an ideal i loved, not the kind of viperish clay catinka has proved herself to be. i dreamt of a goddess, and find a hard woman of the world. whatever love i may have felt for her has vanished; and i am now much more attracted by the plain good sense and kindly heart of iris than by the beauty of that impossible pole. and, after all," added mexton, trying to comfort himself, "even if catinka had proved the reality of my dream, she would never have surrendered her great schemes to marry me. but iris!--ah, if i could only induce her to love me, then, indeed, in a union with her might i hope for happiness?"
it was six o'clock when mexton arrived at marborough, and after dining at home he returned to his work in the office. but all the time he was compiling political articles, and chronicling the small beer of the provincial town, his thoughts were with iris link; and with the enthusiasm of youth he was rapidly raising an altar to his goddess. catinka had been his rosalind, he told himself, but iris was his juliet; and this modern romeo was falling in love as quickly as his prototype of verona. he longed for the company of iris as a thirsty traveller for a cooling spring; and after a restless night, haunted by dreams of iris and memories of poor dead milly, he rode the next morning to barnstead. here he put up his horse at the herne arms, and promised himself a long day with the new goddess of his affections.
on her side, iris had been thinking a great deal about paul. the glance he had given her at parting had turned her thoughts in his direction, and she began to look on him in a more amiable light than she had hitherto done. her love for herne had completely died away since the death of milly, and she now began to compare mexton to the disadvantage of the squire. the conduct of the latter in regard to the discovery of the assassin of milly had not prepossessed her in his favour; and she contrasted his lukewarm pursuit with the fiery zeal of paul. the friend of her youth seemed noble in comparison to herne, and iris reproached herself for having overlooked for so long his many good qualities. in fact, she thought of paul as much as he dreamt of her, and when she saw him at the front door of poverty villa she went out to meet him with a becoming blush. paul, on his part, blushed also; and they met like lovers after a long separation. thus out of evil had come good; and a happy marriage between two young people eminently suited to one another was likely to be the outcome of poor milly lester's untimely decease. so strange and unexpected are the decrees of fate.
"i am glad to see you again, iris," said paul, taking her hand and looking into her eyes. "how is your step-father?"
"very well; he is cheerful and hopeful," replied iris. "miss clyde has told her story to everyone, and now all barnstead knows that he is innocent. there is quite a revulsion in his favour; and all yesterday he was being congratulated. i should not be surprised if this false accusation brought him more patients."
"out of evil comes good," quoth mexton, following her into the house. "where is dr. lester now?"
"he has gone out to see his patients.
"sober, i hope?"
"paul!" iris turned round indignantly. "you may be sure he is sober! he has not touched alcohol since he came back. miss clyde's lesson was cruel, but efficacious; i don't think he will ever indulge in strong drink again. but we can talk of his reform later," added iris, as they sat down in the drawing-room. "i am anxious to know how you got on with catinka."
"well, i found out a great deal."
"you did?" said iris; and then added, with a blush: "and did you find her as charming as you expected?"
"indeed i did not! i found that my idol had feet of clay, and she has tumbled off her pedestal forever. a hard, cruel woman, iris; not at all the woman of my dreams."
"i am glad you found out your mistake before it was too late," said iris in a contented tone. "i am sure she would never have made you happy."
"i am sure also," rejoined mexton, laughing. "i must look for my happiness nearer home." he said this with such a significant look that the colour again flushed the face of iris; but, not deeming the moment a propitious one for love-making--since she was not yet sure of her own heart--she hurriedly turned the conversation.
"what did catinka tell you, paul?"
"many things," replied mexton; then, after a pause, he added: "iris, i remember you asked me not to search for the assassin. was that because you wished to save your father?"
"no; that was not my reason," said iris in a hesitating tone. "i told you so before."
"then you did not want lovel to be arrested?"
"i did not care if he was arrested or not. i am not sure if he is guilty, although i did see him in the winding lane when i went out after poor milly's body was brought home."
"did you see anyone else near the spot?"
"no," said iris frankly; "i did not. why do you ask?"
"because i am sure you suspect someone of having been there."
"i do; but--but i cannot tell you whom i suspect."
"you need not; i know. catinka told me that darcy herne was in barnstead on the night of the murder."
"he was there, then?" cried iris, rising with an expression of horror.
"where?"
"in the winding lane."
"i don't know. why do you say so?"
"wait." iris left the room, and while paul was still wondering at her emotion she returned with a handkerchief spotted with blood. this she handed to paul. "mr. herne's handkerchief," she said. "i found it on the spot where milly's body was discovered."
