"well, i never!" gasped the widow, who, womanlike, was the first to find her tongue. "is it really you, billy?--but i might have guessed it, from your writing. yet it never entered my head!" she stopped and grew suddenly furious. "my husband, you wretch!--have you killed him?"
"no, clara maria, no! i came here to give information about his poor body. i did not expect to find my sister--the celebrated miss de crespigny--in the person of mrs. warrender!"
"what is all this about?" demanded alan quietly. "is this your brother, mrs. warrender?"
"to my shame, sir, i confess this--this creature"--mrs. warrender brought out the word with a hiss--"this degraded beast, is my brother."
"oh, clara maria, how can you----"
"hold your tongue!" interrupted the lady angrily. "you were always a drunkard and a scoundrel! now you've come to blackmailing! two hundred pounds from me, you wretch! not one sixpence!"
"i have already," said her brother majestically, "arranged pecuniary matters with my friend mr. thorold. but i wonder at you, clara maria, i really do, considering how we parted. is this the greeting of flesh and blood?" cried mr. gramp in a soaring voice, and standing on tiptoe. "is this what human nature is made of? the late sir isaac newton was a prophet indeed when he made that remark."
"mountebank!" hissed mrs. warrender, curling her handsome lip.
"we were both mountebanks at one time, mr. thorold," he said, turning to alan, who, in spite of his anxiety, was watching the scene with unconcealed amusement. "my sister was the celebrated miss de crespigny; i, the once noted actor, vavasour belgrave----"
"and his real name is billy spinks!" put in mrs. warrender scornfully.
"william spinks," corrected mr. gramp, as it may be convenient to call him. "billy is merely an endearing term to which, alas! your lips have long been strangers. but you needn't talk," said cicero, becoming angry, and therewith a trifle vulgar; "your name is clara maria spinks!"
"and a very good name, too," retorted the lady. "cut the scene short, billy."
"that is my advice also," put in alan, who was growing weary. "i do not want to know any more about your relationship. that you are brother and sister is nothing to me."
"i hope, mr. thorold, that you won't reveal my degraded connection in heathton," cried mrs. warrender, much agitated. "it would ruin me. with great difficulty i attained a position by marrying my poor dear julian, and i don't want to fall back into the mud where this worm writhes." she darted a vicious glance at cicero.
"be content, mrs. warrender; your secret is safe with me."
"denying her own flesh and blood!" moaned gramp, and sat down.
speech and attitude were most effective, and mrs. warrender, with a spark of her old theatrical humor, played back.
"yes, i deny you," she cried, rising quickly and stretching out a denunciatory hand. "you were always a brute and a disgrace to me. look at that creature, mr. thorold! he is my brother. our parents were on the stage--barnstormers they were--and played in the provinces for bite and sup. they put us on the stage, and when thy died, left a little money to billy there. he was to bring me up. how did he fulfil his trust? by making me work for him. as an actor, even in the meanest parts, he was a failure. i am not much of an actress myself, although i was well known as miss de crespigny, and billed all over london. it was my figure and my looks that did it. i appeared in burlesque ten or twelve years ago, and i had wealth at my feet."
"i have heard of you," said alan, recalling his college days and certain photographs of the most beautiful burlesque actress in london. he wondered he had not recognized her long before. mrs. warrender, shaking with passion, went on as though she had not heard him.
"wealth was at my feet," went on the widow--"wealth and dishonor. he," she cried, and pointed the finger of scorn at the unabashed cicero, "he lived on me! he would have me stoop to dishonor for his sake! then i lost my voice. the creature treated me basely. i left him; i ran away to the states of america, and appeared in ballets for my looks alone. in new orleans i met julian warrender--he was old, but he was madly in love with me--and i married him for a home. we came to england five years ago, and settled at heathton. i always did my best to be a good wife, although i dare say i was extravagant. diamonds! yes, i have diamonds, and i made julian buy me all he could. and why?--to provide against the days of poverty which i knew would come. they have come--my husband is dead. god help me!" her voice rose to a scream. "murdered!" she cried.
"this," interpolated gramp, addressing no one in particular, "is very painful."
"you beast! why do you come into my life again? i wanted to know about my poor husband's death, and i brought up my jewels to bribe the man who called himself cicero gramp into confessing who had murdered him. i find that my own brother is the blackmailer. you would extort money from me, you wretch! never! never! never! i disown you--i cast you out! william spinks, blackguard you were! cicero gramp, scoundrel, thief, blackmailer, and, for all i know, murderer, you are! away with you--away!" and mrs. warrender, very white in face and very exhausted in body, sat down.
"very good," said her brother, rising; "i go."
"without your fifty pounds?" asked alan, sneering.
"i forgot that," he said, smiling blandly.
"don't give him a penny, mr. thorold!" cried the woman with vehemence.
"i promised him the money, and he shall have it," replied alan coldly. "i have heard your story, mrs. warrender, and it is safe with me. no one in heathton shall know. your brother will not speak of it either."
"how do you know that?" asked cicero, with an evil look.
"because you shall not have the fifty pounds until i have your promise to hold your tongue about your relationship to mrs. warrender while you are in heathton."
"i am not going to heathton," growled gramp like a sulky bear.
"yes, you are. you are coming to tell your story to inspector blair. if you don't, not only will you lose your fifty pounds, but i will have you arrested as a suspicious character."
"you promised that the police should not touch me."
"i promised nothing of the sort. now, tell me what you saw of these crimes--for there are two: sacrilege and murder--and then come to heathton. behave well, keep mrs. warrender's secret, and you shall have fifty pounds and your freedom. otherwise----" alan held up his finger.
"oh, mr. thorold!" cried the widow, wringing her hands, "if this horrible man comes to heathton, i am lost!"
"indeed no! he will hold his tongue. won't you?"
"you seem very sure of it," said the professor of eloquence.
"of course i am. you see, mr. gramp, i have the handling of the late mr. marlow's money, and i can buy your silence."
"not for fifty pounds."
"we shall see about that. it's either fifty pounds or the police. choose!"
cicero folded his arms, and bowed his head.
"i will take the money," he said, "and i will hold my tongue--while i am at heathton giving my evidence. afterwards----" he looked at his sister.
"afterwards," said alan smoothly, "we will make other arrangements. now tell your story."
"and tell the truth!" put in mrs. warrender sharply.
"clara maria!" cicero was about to break forth in furious speech, but he restrained himself. "hodie mihi eras tibi!" said mr. gramp, with a strange look at alan--"if you understand latin."
"i think i am able to follow you, my friend. you mean 'to-day to me, to-morrow to thee,' which would be all right if it was i who quoted the saying. but this time it is not your day, and as to your to-morrow, it may never come."
"we shall see about that," said cicero savagely and pointedly.
alan felt an unpleasant thrill run through him, for the man's look was evil beyond telling. but he betrayed nothing of this, and signed to gramp to continue.
quite understanding the position, cicero reverted to his grand theatrical manner. he rose from his chair, rested one hand on the back of it, and thrust the other into his breast. as from a rostrum he delivered his speech, and dwelt upon his own words with the gusto of a modern micawber.
"mr. thorold and clara maria," he began in deep tones, "a few days ago circumstances connected with money turned me weary and hungry from the seaport of southampton. i went--let us be plain--i went on the tramp, and in the course of my peregrinations i drew near heathton, a salubrious village, notorious at the present moment for the crimes which have been committed there. i spun a coin, my only sixpence, to decide if an intrusion into that village would bring me good or evil fortune. the coin said good, so to heathton i went. as i shall shortly pocket fifty quid--a vulgar term, but eloquent, clara maria, so don't frown--i dare not say that my only sixpence told me a lie. that sixpence bought me a meal in the heathton public-house. where is that meal or sixpence now? eheu! fuit ilium."
"go on," said alan curtly, for the orator paused.
"at the good samaritan i heard much about mr. marlow and the funeral, and learned a few facts which were of use to me afterwards."
"when you thrust yourself into the kitchen at the moat house, i presume?"
"you are correct, mr. thorold. i did good business there; and i learned, from the irresponsible chatter of the domestics, a few other facts which may also prove valuable."
he looked directly at alan as he said this.
"go on! go on!" said thorold again. but he felt uneasy.
"i was turned out of the good samaritan by a hard-hearted landlady called--appropriately, i confess--mrs. timber. as the night was fine, i slept in the churchyard, opposite the tomb of mr. marlow. soon after midnight i was awakened by voices. i looked out, and saw two men, one tall, the other short."
"who were they?" alan asked anxiously.
"one i knew later; the other one i am still in doubt about, as i did not see his face."
"but the names?"
"you shall hear the names, clara maria, when i am ready, not before. these men went into the tomb, remained there for some time, and came out with the body. they lifted it over the low wall of the churchyard, and went, i think, across the moor."
"you followed?" cried alan breathlessly.
"no. i was afraid i might get into trouble, so i ran in the opposite direction. i slept the rest of the night in a hayrick far from the churchyard. next day i sought the moat house kitchen, and listened to the talk of the servants. then i went away with the idea of seeing miss marlow at bournemouth, as the servants said she was there with mr. thorold. on the moor i saw a hut. i went into it to eat a frugal meal. in it i found"--cicero paused to give his words due effect--"a corpse."
"whose corpse?"
"that of the man who had assisted to steal the body, clara maria. your husband, dr. warrender!"
"you liar!" shrieked the widow, making a bound at him. "oh, you liar!"
alan flung himself between these affectionate relatives, or it might have fared badly with cicero.
"hold hard, mrs. warrender!" he said, holding her back; "let us listen."
"listen to his lies! do you hear that he says my husband stole mr. marlow's body?"
"so he did," said cicero doggedly. "i'm telling you what i shall tell to the police. the tall man was dr. warrender. i saw his face in the lantern-light. who the short man was i do not know."
"how did you recognize dr. warrender?" demanded alan, when mrs. warrender had sat down again.
"i didn't know him at the time; but i had his description from the servants."
"tall, yellow beard, bald head?" said thorold rapidly.
"yes, that was the man who assisted to remove the body, and that is the description of the corpse i found in the hut."
"my husband's body was found in the vault, you liar!" cried the widow.
"was it, clara maria? well, all i can say is i don't know how it got there. i left it in the hut myself."
"why did you not give information to the police?"
"what! and get locked up on suspicion of murder? no, thank you, mr. thorold. i ran away from that corpse as i would have done from the devil."
"whose child you are," said his sister bitterly.
"don't miscall your own father, clara maria. well, sir, i went on to bournemouth, and wrote two letters, one to miss marlow, and one to my sister, although i did not know she was my sister then. had i known i had a relative in heathton," said cicero with pathos, "i should have asked for a bed."
"and your sister, billy spinks, would have set the dogs on you."
"i am sure you would, clara maria. you were always one for sentimental scenes."
"tell me, gramp, is this all you know of these crimes?" put in alan.
"all, mr. thorold. i think, sir, it is worth fifty pounds."
"humph! we'll see what the police say. you have no objection, i suppose, to come with me to heathton and repeat this story?"
"having a clear conscience," said cicero, with a superior smile, "i can safely say that i have not. but the fifty, mr. thorold?"
"will be paid after you have told blair this story."
"if you are so poor," put in mrs. warrender, "where did you get money to buy that writing-paper? it was costly paper."
"it was," admitted mr. gramp with pride--"it was, clara maria. i always do things in style. if you remember, i got a prize at school for letter-writing."
"where did you get the money?"
"from a nautical man called joe brill--a sovereign."
"a sovereign from joe brill?" cried alan, starting. "why?"
"ah! you may ask," said cicero. "in my opinion it was hush-money."
"hush-money! what do you mean, man?"
"mean! i mean that i believe joe brill was the short man i saw that night. yes, mr. thorold, joe stole the corpse, and joe killed foully, with a knife, my respected brother-in-law. hinc ill? lachrym?!"
