many years she held no open communication with any member of her
family, but latterly, as I have explained, she acquired the habit of
recuperating--recuperating from the effects of her febrile pleasures--at
this obscure place in Scotland. And Mr. Vernon, his interest in
her movements having considerably--shall I say abated?--offered no
objection: even suffered it gladly, counting the cost but little
against”...
“Freedom?” suggested Dunbar, scribbling in his notebook.
“Rather crudely expressed, perhaps,” said the solicitor, peering
over the top of his glasses, “but you have the idea. I come now to my
client's awakening. Four days ago, he learned the truth; he learned that
he was being deceived!”
“Deceived!”
“Mrs. Vernon, thoroughly exhausted with irregular living, announced
that she was about to resort once more to the healing breezes of the
heather-land”--Mr. Debnam was thoroughly warming to his discourse and
thoroughly enjoying his own dusty phrases.
“Interrupting you for a moment,” said the inspector, “at what intervals
did these visits take place?”
“At remarkably regular intervals, Inspector: something like six times a
year.”
“For how long had Mrs. Vernon made a custom of these visits?”
“Roughly, for two years.”
“Thank you. Will you go on, sir?”
“She requested Mr. Vernon, then, on the last occasion to give her a
check for eighty pounds; and this he did, unquestioningly. On Thursday,
the second of September, she left for Scotland”...
“Did she take her maid?”
“Her maid always received a holiday on these occasions; Mrs. Vernon
wired her respecting the date of her return.”
“Did any one actually see her off?”
“No, not that I am aware of, Inspector.”
“To put the whole thing quite bluntly, Mr. Debnam,” said Dunbar, fixing
his tawny eyes upon the solicitor, “Mr. Vernon was thoroughly glad to
get rid of her for a week?”
Mr. Debnam shifted uneasily in his chair; the truculent directness of
the detective was unpleasing to his tortuous mind. However:--
“I fear you have hit upon the truth,” he confessed, “and I must admit
that we have no legal evidence of her leaving for Scotland on this, or
on any other occasion. Letters were received from Perth, and letters
sent to Auchterander from London were answered. But the truth, the
painful truth came to light, unexpectedly, dramatically, on Monday
last”...
“Four days ago?”
“Exactly; three days before the death of my client.” Mr. Debnam wagged
his finger at the inspector again. “I maintain,” he said, “that this
painful discovery, which I am about to mention, precipitated my client's
end; although it is a fact that there was--hereditary heart trouble.
But I admit that his neglect of his wife (to give it no harsher name)
contributed to the catastrophe.”
He paused to give dramatic point to the revelation.
“Walking homeward at a late hour on Monday evening from a flat in
Victoria Street--the flat of--shall I employ the term a particular
friend?--Mr. Vernon was horrified--horrified beyond measure, to
perceive, in a large and well-appointed car--a limousine--his wife!”...
“The inside lights of the car were on, then?”
“No; but the light from a street lamp shone directly into the car. A
temporary block in the traffic compelled the driver of the car, whom my
client described to me as an Asiatic--to pull up for a moment. There,
within a few yards of her husband, Mrs. Vernon reclined in the car--or
rather in the arms of a male companion!”
“What!”
“Positively!” Mr. Debnam was sedately enjoying himself. “Positively, my
dear Inspector, in the arms of a man of extremely dark complexion. Mr.
Vernon was unable to perceive more than this, for the man had his back
toward him. But the light shone fully upon the face of Mrs. Vernon, who
appeared pale and exhausted. She wore a conspicuous motor-coat of civet
fur, and it was this which first attracted Mr. Vernon's attention. The
blow was a very severe one to a man in my client's state of health; and
although I cannot claim that his own conscience was clear, this open
violation of the marriage vows outraged the husband--outraged him. In
fact he was so perturbed, that he stood there shaking, quivering,
unable to speak or act, and the car drove away before he had recovered
sufficient presence of mind to note the number.”
“In which direction did the car proceed?”
“Toward Victoria Station.”
“Any other particulars?”
“Not regarding the car, its driver, or its occupants; but early on the
following morning, Mr. Vernon, very much shaken, called upon me and
instructed me to despatch an agent to Perth immediately. My agent's
report reached me at practically the same time as the news of my
client's death”...
“And his report was?”...
“His report, Inspector, telegraphic, of course, was this: that no sister
of Mrs. Vernon resided at the address; that the place was a cottage
occupied by a certain Mrs. Fry and her husband; that the husband was of
no occupation, and had no visible means of support”--he ticked off the
points on the long forefinger--“that the Frys lived better than any
of their neighbors; and--most important of all--that Mrs. Fry's maiden
name, which my agent discovered by recourse to the parish register of
marriages--was Ann Fairchild.”
“What