“A diamond bracelet!” I echoed. There was no doubt that Ella had actually been to Warnham without my knowledge, for the bracelet that the old ostler, in reply to my eager questions, described accurately, was the one I had given her.
“What time in the day did she call? Where did they go?” I demanded, in surprise.
“She came about mid-day, and they both went for a walk towards Broadbridge Heath. They were gone, I should reckon, about three hours, and when they returned, it was evident from her eyes that she’d been crying.”
“Crying! Had Ogle been talking to her angrily, do you think?”
“No. I don’t believe so. They remained here and had some tea together in the parlour, and then I drove ’em to Horsham, and they caught the 6:25 to London.”
I was silent. There was some remarkable, unfathomable mystery in this.
“Now, Denman,” I said at last, “I know you’ve got a sharp pair of ears when you’re perched up on that box of yours. Did you overhear their conversation while driving them to Horsham?”
Again the old man removed his battered hat and calmly scratched his head.
“Well, sir, to tell you the truth, I did ’ear a few words,” he answered. “I ’eard the young lady say as ’ow she wor powerless. He seemed to be a-begging of her to do something which horrified her. I ’eard her ask him in a whisper whether he thought they would be discovered, and he laughed at her fear, and said, ‘If you don’t do it, you know the consequences will be fatal.’ ”
“Do you think they went up to the Hall when they went out walking?”
“I don’t know, sir. They could, of course, have got into the park that way. But you don’t look very well, sir. I hope what I’ve told you isn’t—isn’t very unpleasant,” the old ostler added, with a look of apprehension.
“No. Get me some brandy, Denman,” I gasped.
While he was absent I rose and walked unsteadily to the window that overlooked a comfortable-looking corner residence surrounded by a belt of firs, a wide road, and a beautiful stretch of valley and blue downs beyond. The landscape was peaceful and picturesque, and I sought solace in gazing upon it. But this latest revelation had unnerved me. Dudley and Ella had met in that quiet, rural place for some purpose which I could not conceive. Their meeting had evidently been pre-arranged, and their object, from the words the old man had overheard, was apparently of a secret and sinister character.
The strange, inquiring look I had detected in Ella’s face whenever she had glanced surreptitiously at Dudley on the previous night was, I now felt assured, an index of guilty conscience; and Mrs. Laing’s dread that Ella should know the truth of my friend’s tragic end appeared to prove, in a certain degree, the existence of some secret knowledge held by all three.
Yet I could not bring myself to believe that my well-beloved had wilfully deceived me. From what Denman had said, it appeared as if Ogle had held her under some mysterious thrall, and was trying to compel her to act against her better judgment. Her pure, womanly conscience had, perhaps, revolted against his suggestion, and she had shed the tears the old ostler had noticed; yet he had persisted and held over her a threat that had cowed her, and, perhaps, for aught I knew, compelled her to submit.
My thought that the man who was my friend should have thus treated the woman I adored filled me with fiercest anger and hatred. With bitterness I told myself that the man in whom I placed implicit confidence, and with whom I had allowed Ella to spend many idle hours punting or sculling while I was absent at my duties in London, was actually my enemy.
With sudden resolve I determined to travel back to Staines and, by possession of the knowledge of her mysterious visit to that village, worm from her its object. At that moment Denman entered, and I drank the brandy at one gulp, afterwards ordering the fly and driving back to Horsham station, whence I returned to London.
At my flat in Rossetti Mansions, Chelsea, I found a telegram from the Staines police summoning me to the inquest to be held next morning at eleven o’clock, and also one from Ella asking me to return. The latter I felt inclined to disregard; the former I could not. Her words and actions were, indeed, beyond comprehension, but in the light of this knowledge I had by mere chance acquired, it seemed plain that her declaration of her unworthiness of my love was something more than the natural outcome of highly-strung nerves and a romantic disposition. Women of certain temperaments are prone to self-accusation, and I had brought myself to believe her words to be mere hysterical utterances; but now, alas! I saw there was some deep motive underlying them. I had been tricked. I had, it seemed, been unduly jealous of Beck, and unsuspecting of my real enemy, the man whose lips were closed in death.
I now regretted his end, not as a friend regrets, but merely because no effort would be availing to compel his lying tongue to speak the truth. Yet, if he were my rival for Ella’s hand, might he not have lied when questioned regarding the events of that fateful afternoon when the secret defensive alliance had been so mysteriously exchanged for a dummy? Jealousy knows neither limit nor remorse.
Next morning, after spending the greater part of the night sitting alone smoking and endeavouring to penetrate the ever-increasing veil of mystery that had apparently enveloped her, I travelled down to Staines, arriving there just in time to take a cab to the Town Hall, where the inquest was to be held. The town was agog, for a crowd of those unable to enter because the room was already filled to overflowing, stood in the open space outside, eagerly discussing the tragic affair in all its various aspects, and hazarding the wildest and most impossible theories. Entering the hall, I elbowed my way forward, and as I did so I heard my name shouted loudly by a police constable. I was required as a witness, and succeeded in struggling through to the baize-covered table whereat the grave-faced Coroner sat.
He stretched forth his hand to give me the copy of Holy Writ whereon to take the oath, when suddenly my eyes fell upon a watch and a collection of miscellaneous articles lying upon the table, the contents of the dead man’s pockets.
One small object alone riveted my attention. Heedless of the Coroner’s words I snatched it up and examined it closely.
Next second I stood breathless and aghast, dumbfounded by an amazing discovery that staggered belief.
Chapter Seven.
Ella’s Suspicions.
The formula of the oath fell upon my ears in a dull monotone, as mechanically I raised the Bible to my lips, afterwards replying to the Coroner’s formal questions regarding my name, address and occupation. The discovery I had made filled me with fierce, bitter hatred against my dead companion, and, dazed by the startling suddenness of the revelation, I stood like a man in a dream.
Dr. Diplock, the Coroner, noticed it, and his sharp injunction to answer his question brought me back to a knowledge of my surroundings. I was standing in full view of an assembly of some three hundred persons, so filled by curiosity, and eager to hear my story, that the silence was complete.
“I beg your pardon, but I did not hear the question,” I said, bracing myself with effort.
“The deceased was your friend, I believe?”
“Yes,” I answered. “He shared a furnished cottage with me at Shepperton. I have known him for some time.”
“Were you with him at the day of his death?”
“I left him at Shepperton in the morning, when I went to town, and he called upon me at the Foreign Office about one o’clock. We lunched together, and then, returning to Downing Street, parted. We met again at Shepperton later, and came here, to Staines, in response to an invitation to dinner at ‘The Nook.’ I—”
A