dora made no reply. in spite of his asseverations of innocence, she saw that he felt himself in a trap. his pallid face, his wild eyes, his trembling hands--all these signs hinted at a realization of his helpless position. week by week since that fatal conversation he had grown thinner and more haggard. he was the shadow of the comely lover who had met her by the wayside when she had taken him to see edermont. he looked round the room, as though searching for some means of escape. one would have thought that the officers of the law were already at the door, and that he was guilty. dora knew that this was not the case, but could not be sure until she heard his explanation. suddenly he threw up his hands with a gesture of despair.
"i was mad on that night," he said in a hoarse tone.
dora drew back with a gasp. was he about to confess to the crime and allege temporary insanity by way of excuse? a violent trembling seized all her limbs, and she was obliged to lean against the table while waiting for his next words.
"you say joad saw me?" he asked, looking at her. "joad can denounce me?"
"no," she murmured, "he will not denounce you."
"but why should he show me such mercy?" cried allen with haggard surprise. "he admires you; he is jealous of me. to get rid of me he would willingly place a noose round my neck."
"that is true, allen. but--you are safe from him. he--he has asked me to be his wife."
"ah!" said he, jealously seizing her hands. "and you--you---- no!" he abruptly tossed her hands away. "you could never bring yourself to marry that wretch, even for fifty thousand pounds."
"he does not wish for that money," said dora, with a calmness which surprised herself; "he wants me."
"like his insolence! of course you told him that such a thing was impossible!"
dora raised her eyes to his with a look of pain.
"how could i?" she said slowly. "he saw you at the red house on that night."
"dora"--allen again seized her hands--"you are sacrificing yourself to save me?"
"i can do no less, allen. i love you. ah!" she cried, with a burst of tears, "you will never know how i love you. i have suffered from your cruelty, your desertion, from your strange silence, but i still love you, as i have always done. as i cannot be your wife and make you happy, i can still marry this man and save you from the consequences of your crime."
"dora! you do not believe that i am guilty?"
"no, allen, no; still, i cannot understand. you have refused me your confidence; you say you were mad on that night. morally speaking, you are innocent, i am certain. but still, in a moment of anger----"
"i swear that i did not touch him!" cried allen violently. "i admit that i was at the red house on that night. he asked me to come."
"i guessed that. joad posted a letter to you."
"yes, yes. wait!" he ran into the next room, wherein his desk was standing, and in two minutes he returned with a paper. "this is his letter. you see, edermont asked me to come at midnight to the red house--to enter by the postern gate, which he left open for my admittance."
"he wished to add something to the conversation of the week before," said dora, reading the letter. "but, my poor allen, this letter rather condemns than saves you. it shows conclusively that you had an appointment at the red house at midnight. and mr. edermont was killed at one o'clock."
"i don't know at what hour he was killed," rejoined allen, taking back the letter with a gloomy air. "as i told you, i was mad on that night. i lost all idea of time. whether i was in his study at twelve or one i cannot say, but when i did enter i saw him dead."
"allen!" dora uttered a cry of horror. "you saw him dead?"
"he was lying on the floor near the bureau," said scott, speaking rapidly. "i see him now in my mind's eye--a limp heap, with his white hair dappled with blood. the zulu club, torn from the savage weapons which decorated the walls, lay near him; his pistol was on the other side. he was dead--dead! ah god, dead!"
during this recital dora had sunk into a chair, overcome by the vehemence of his words. allen strode to and fro, swinging his long arms, with a look of horror on his worn, white face. he pressed his hands to his eyes, as if to shut out the scene which his too vivid fancy had painted. half swooning, dora uttered a sob, and the next moment allen was on his knees beside her, covering her hands with passionate and burning kisses.
"my queen! my saint!" he said hurriedly; "and you would sacrifice yourself for me. you would marry this drunkard, this parasite, this vile reptile, to save me from danger! no, dora. no, i have been weak and foolish, but i am not guilty--i swear that i am not guilty. you shall not shield me at the cost of your own ruin. oh, if i could only tell you all! but i dare not, i dare not!"
carried away by his passion, angered at the sense of his weakness, he could have kissed her feet. but dora placed her hand on his forehead and reasoned calmly with him. he was not to be saved by giving way to such whirlwinds of passion and despair. the prospect was terrible, but they must both face it boldly. allen was innocent. he said so, and she believed him. that was everything. if he were not guilty, they might find a way out of the trap into which he had stumbled. to do so, she must know exactly what took place on that fatal night, and to this end she addressed her frenzied lover.
"allen," she said gravely, "this is not the way to save yourself from arrest, or me from a disgraceful marriage. i have obtained a week's time from joad to think matters over. in seven days we can do a great deal, and we may see a way out of this terrible situation. sit down beside me, and tell me exactly what you did on that night."
"i shall not sit down beside you, dora. i shall remain here at your feet. ah, heaven! to think of that cruel bar which prevents our marriage! you should know all, but i have not the courage to tell you."
"keep silent on that point," said dora soothingly. "what i want to know now is the story of that night. you returned from london on the second, did you not?"
"yes," he replied in a tired voice. "in that conversation i had with edermont he made certain statements which i could not believe. he said i could verify them in london, and told me how and where i could do so. i could not rest until i knew the truth, therefore i caught the express at selling and went to town. alas, alas! i found that he had spoken only too truly, and that you could never be my wife."
repressing the curiosity which devoured her to learn the terrible secret of which he spoke, dora smoothed his hair gently, and asked him to relate what had taken place on his return from this mysterious errand. he obeyed her like a child.
"when i came home," he said with thoughtful deliberation, "i found that letter i showed you awaiting me. edermont asked me to see him in his study at midnight on the second of the month. but how he knew that i should return on that day i cannot guess."
"i can explain," said dora quietly. "you wrote and told me when you would return, and i showed the letter to my guardian."
"why did you do that, dora--especially when you knew about our quarrel?"
"i wished to point out to mr. edermont that you had gone to london," replied dora, "and, if possible, induce him to explain your reason for going there."
"ah, he knew my reason well enough," said allen with a frown; "but i suppose he refused to tell you what it was?"
"naturally. he refused to tell me anything. but now you know how mr. edermont learnt the date of your return, and appointed that midnight meeting for the date. go on, allen."
"i was pleased to get his invitation," continued allen, picking up the thread of his story, "as i fancied he might confess something further, likely to ameliorate the distressing situation in which i was placed by his previous revelation. i determined, therefore, to obey the summons, but as it yet wanted three hours till midnight the thought of the delay worked me into a fever of anxiety. the hopes, the fears, the vague terrors which beset me drove me nearly wild. i declare, dora, that i was like a madman. a hundred ideas came into my head as to how i might do away with the effect of edermont's secret and regain you. but one and all were dismissed, and i felt more helpless than ever. only one man could put matters right, and that was the man who put them wrong; so there was nothing left for it but to wait until i saw him at midnight."
"had you any idea that a third person might be present at your meeting?"
"no. as you see, there is no mention of a third person in the letter, nor did i see a third person in the study--only the dead man's corpse." "ugh!"--allen shuddered--"i shall never forget that horrible sight."
"it was gruesome enough in the morning," said dora with a shiver, "so it must have been doubly horrifying at night. well, did you remain indoors until you went to the red house?"
"no. i could not rest; i could not bear the confinement. i felt that i must be up and doing, so, in sheer despair, i went out on my bicycle. where i went i do not know. the night was as bright as day with the rays of the moon, and i had sufficient sense to guide the machine rightly, while running blindly along, not knowing or caring whither i was going. i went up hill and down dale along those weary roads, until i wore myself out. physically exhausted, for i must have been riding at nearly top speed for hours, i turned in the direction of chillum. at what time i got there i do not know."
"you had your watch with you?"
"yes; but in my then perturbed state of mind it never struck me to look at it."
"mr. joad said he saw you pass his cottage shortly before twelve o'clock."
"it might have been," said allen indifferently; "but to my mind it was nearer one o'clock. indeed, it must have been, for, according to your showing, the murder was committed about that time, and when i entered the study i found edermont dead."
"dead! poor soul!" cried dora, clasping her hands.
"the postern-gate was open," continued allen rapidly, "also the side-door of that deserted drawing-room. this did not surprise me, as i had been led to expect from the letter that the way would be clear for me to enter. when i went into the study i was struck with horror at the sight. a candle, wasted nearly to the socket, was burning on the bureau. the desk itself was hacked and smashed, and the drawers forced open, as you saw it in the morning. hundreds of letters and papers were scattered about, some on the bureau itself, others on the floor, and in the midst of all this disorder lay the ghastly dead body, terrible to look at in the pale glimmer of the expiring candle. the pistol was on one side, the knobkerrie on the other, and the dead man, with his face and head beaten and disfigured, lay between."
"did you hear anyone, or see anyone?"
"i heard nothing, i saw nothing. the door leading to the hall was closed, and there was no sign of the assassin. i saw in a flash the terrible position in which i was placed. i had quarrelled with edermont, and here i was, in his private room at midnight, standing beside his dead body. i might be accused of the murder, and condemned on circumstantial evidence--for, on the face of it, i could make no defence. as i looked with horror on the scene, with these thoughts in my mind, the candle flamed up in one expiring flash, then died out in a blue flicker. i was alone in the darkness with the dead man; and, seized with a sudden panic--surely excusable under the circumstances--i turned and fled rapidly. in two minutes i was on my bicycle, running full speed for canterbury. that is all i know, dora."
dora considered for a few moments after he had finished.
"you are sure that there was nobody else in the red house on that night?" she asked, after a pause.
allen hesitated.
"i did not intend to speak," he murmured; "but for my own sake i must tell you all. when i was coming into chillum i met a woman going towards canterbury on a bicycle."
"a woman, allen! and at midnight--alone! who was she?"
"at the time i passed her i did not know," said the doctor, rising; "but on my return journey, when i had left the house after the murder, i met her again, by the railway bridge. she was wheeling her machine down the hill, and called out to me to help her. the tyre of her back wheel was punctured. i got off at once, notwithstanding my anxiety to get home, and, with the aid of guttapercha, i soon mended the tiny hole. then we rode on together until our roads parted."
"do you know who she was?" asked dora for a second time.
"yes," said allen quietly. "i recognised her at once." he produced a brooch from his waistcoat pocket. "i found this in edermont's study, where it had no doubt been dropped by her."
"how do you know?"
"by putting two and two together. look at the brooch."
dora did so. it was a slender bar of pale gold, to which two letters formed of small pearls were attached. she uttered an exclamation of astonishment as she read them out. "l.b.," she said; "that stands for----"
"for laura burville," finished allen quickly. "exactly. laura burville was the woman i met coming from chillum. and, by the evidence of the brooch, laura burville was the woman who was in edermont's study on the midnight of the second of august."
