'Friends, I understand,' he said, looking at his hands, admiringly.

'And something more,' she added, bitterly; 'lovers!'

'Don't talk so loud, my dear,' replied Vandeloup, coolly; 'it doesn't do to let everyone know your private business.'

'It's private now,' she said, in a voice of passion, 'but it will soon be public enough.'

'Indeed! which paper do you advertise in?'

'Listen to me, Gaston,' she said, taking no notice of his sneer; 'you will never marry Madame Midas; sooner than that, I will reveal all and kill myself.'

'You forget,' he said, gently; 'it is comedy, not tragedy, we play.'

'That is as I choose,' she retorted; 'see!' and with a sudden gesture she put her hand into the bosom of her dress and took out the bottle of poison with the red bands. 'I have it still.'

'So I perceive,' he answered, smiling. 'Do you always carry it about with you, like a modern Lucrezia Borgia?'

'Yes,' she answered quietly; 'it never leaves me, you see,' with a sneer. 'As you said yourself, it's always well to be prepared for emergencies.'

'So it appears,' observed Vandeloup, with a yawn, sitting up. 'I wouldn't use that poison if I were you; it is risky.'

'Oh, no, it's not,' answered Kitty; 'it is fatal in its results, and leaves no trace behind.'

'There you are wrong,' replied Gaston, coolly; 'it does leave traces behind, but makes it appear as if apoplexy was the cause of death. Give me the bottle?' peremptorily.

'No!' she answered, defiantly, clenching it in her hand.

'I say yes,' he said, in an angry whisper; 'that poison is my secret, and I'm not going to have you play fast and loose with it; give it up,' and he placed his hand on her wrist.

'You hurt my wrist,' she said.

'I'll break your wrist, my darling,' he said, quietly, 'if you don't give me that bottle.'

Kitty wrenched her hand away, and rose to her feet.

'Sooner than that, I'll throw it away,' she said, and before he could stop her, she flung the bottle out on to the lawn, where it fell down near the trees.

'Bah! I will find it,' he said, springing to his feet, but Kitty was too quick for him.

'M. Vandeloup,' she said aloud, so that everyone could hear; 'kindly take me back to the ball-room, will you, to finish our valse.'

Vandeloup would have refused, but she had his arm, and as everyone was looking at him, he could not refuse without being guilty of marked discourtesy. Kitty had beaten him with his own weapons, so, with a half-admiring glance at her, he took her back to the ball- room, where the waltz was just ending.

'At all events,' he said in her ear, as they went smoothly gliding round the room, 'you won't be able to do any mischief with it now to yourself or to anyone else.'

'Won't I?' she retorted quickly; 'I have some more at home.'

'The deuce!' he ejaculated.

'Yes,' she replied, triumphantly; 'the bottle I got that belonged to you, I put half its contents into another. So you see I can still do mischief, and,' in a fierce whisper, 'I will, if you don't give up this idea of marrying Madame Midas.'

'I thought you knew me better than that,' he said, in a tone of concentrated passion. 'I will not.'

Then I'll poison her,' she retorted.

'What, the woman who has been so kind to you?'

'Yes, I'd rather see her dead than married to a devil like you.'

'How amiable you are, Bebe,' he said, with a laugh, as the music stopped.

'I am what you have made me,' she replied, bitterly, and they walked into the drawing-room.

After this Vandeloup clearly saw that it was a case of diamond cut diamond, for Kitty was becoming as clever with her tongue as he was. After all, though she was his pupil, and was getting as hardened and cynical as possible, he did not think it fair she should use his own weapons against himself. He did not believe she would try and poison Madame Midas, even though she was certain of not being detected, for he thought she was too tender-hearted. But, alas! he had taught her excellently well, and Kitty was rapidly arriving at the conclusion he had long since come to, that number one was the greatest number. Besides, her love for Vandeloup, though not so ardent as it had been, was too intense for her to let any other woman get a hold of him. Altogether, M. Vandeloup was in an extremely unpleasant position, and one of his own making.

Having given Kitty over to the tender care of Mrs Rolleston, Vandeloup hurried outside to look for the missing bottle. He had guessed the position it fell in, and, striking a match, went to look over the smooth close-shorn turf. But though he was a long time, and looked carefully, the bottle was gone.

'The devil!' said Vandeloup, startled by this discovery. 'Who could have picked it up?'

He went back into the conservatory, and, sitting down in his old place, commenced to review the position.

It was most annoying about the poison, there was no doubt of that. He only hoped that whoever picked it up would know nothing about its dangerous qualities. After all, he could be certain about that, as no one but himself knew what the poison was and how it could be used. The person who picked up the bottle would probably throw it away again as useless; and then, again, perhaps when Kitty threw the bottle away the stopper came out, and the contents would be lost. And then Kitty still had more left, but—bah!—she would not use it on Madame Midas. That was the vague threat of a jealous woman to frighten him. The real danger he was in lay in the fact that she might tell Madame Midas the relations between them, and then there would be no chance of his marrying at all. If he could only stop Kitty's mouth in some way—persuasion was thrown away on her. If he could with safety get rid of her he would. Ah! that was an idea. He had some of this poison—if he could only manage to give it to her, and thus remove her from his path. There would be no risk of discovery, as the poison left no traces behind, and if it came to the worst, it would appear she had committed suicide, for poison similar to what she had used would be found in her possession. It was a pity to kill her, so young and pretty, and yet his safety demanded it; for if she told Madame Midas all, it might lead to further inquiries, and M. Vandeloup well knew his past life would not bear looking into. Another thing, she had threatened him about some secret she held—he did not know what it was, and yet almost guessed; if that was the secret she must be got rid of, for it would imperil not only his liberty, but his life. Well, if he had to get rid of her, the sooner he did so the better, for even on the next day she might tell all—he would have to give her the poison that night—but how? that was the difficulty. He could not do it at this ball, as it would be too apparent if she died—no—it would have to be administered secretly when she went home. But then she would go to Madame Midas' room to see how she was, and then would retire to her own room. He knew where that was—just off Mrs Villiers' room; there were French windows in both rooms—two in Mrs Villiers', and one in Kitty's. That was the plan—they would be left open as the night was hot. Suppose he went down to St Kilda, and got into the garden, he knew every inch of the way; then he could slip into the open window, and if it was not open, he could use a diamond ring to cut the glass. He had a diamond ring he never wore, so if Kitty was discovered to be poisoned, and the glass cut, they would never suspect him, as he did not wear rings at all, and the evidence of the cut window would show a diamond must have been used. Well, suppose he got inside, Kitty would be asleep, and he could put the poison into the water carafe, or he could put it in a glass of water and leave it standing; the risk would be, would she drink it or not- -he would have to run that risk; if he failed this time, he would not the next. But, then, suppose she awoke and screamed—pshaw! when she saw it was he Kitty would not dare to make a scene, and he could easily make some excuse for his presence there. It was a wild scheme, but then he was in such a dangerous position that he had to try everything.

When M. Vandeloup had come to this conclusion he arose, and, going to the supper room, drank a glass of brandy; for even he, cool as he was, felt a little nervous over the crime he was about to commit. He thought he would give Kitty one last chance, so when she was already cloaked, waiting with Mrs Killer for the carriage, he drew her aside.

'You did not mean what you said tonight,' he whispered, looking searchingly at her.

'Yes, I did,' she replied, defiantly; 'if you push me to extremities, you must take the consequences.'

'It will be the worse for you,' he said, threateningly, as the carriage drove up.

'I'm not afraid of you,' she retorted, shrugging her shoulders, a trick she had learned from him; 'you have ruined my life, but I'm not going to let you ruin Madame's. I'd sooner see her dead than in your arms.'

'Remember, I have warned you,' he said, gravely, handing her to the carriage. 'Good night!'

'Good night!' she answered, mockingly; 'and to-morrow,' in a low voice, 'you will be astonished.'

'And to-morrow,' he said to himself, as the carriage drove off, 'you will be dead.'



CHAPTER XI

THE VISION OF MISS KITTY MARCHURST

Everyone knows the story of Damocles, and how uncomfortable he felt with the sword suspended by a hair over his head. No one could enjoy their dinner under such circumstances, and it is much to be thankful for that hosts of the present day do not indulge in these practical jokes. But though history does not repeat itself exactly regarding the suspended sword, yet there are cases when a sense of impending misfortune has the same effect on the spirits. This was the case of Madame Midas. She was not by any means of a nervous temperature, yet ever since the disappearance of her husband she was a prey to a secret dread, which, reacting on her nerves, rendered her miserable. Had Mr Villiers only appeared, she would have known how to deal with him, and done so promptly, but it was his absence that made her afraid. Was he dead? If so, why was his body not found; if he was not dead, why did he not reappear on the scene. Allowing, for the sake of argument, that he had stolen the nugget and left the colony in order to enjoy the fruits of his villainy—well, the nugget weighed about three hundred ounces—and that if he disposed of it, as he must have done, it would give him a sum of money a little over one thousand pounds. True, his possession of such a large mass of gold would awake suspicions in the mind of anyone he went to; but then, there were people who were always ready to do shady things, provided they were well paid. So whomsoever he went to would levy blackmail on him on threat of informing the police and having him arrested. Therefore, the most feasible thing would be that he had got about half of the value of the nugget, which would be about six hundred pounds. Say that he did so, a whole year had elapsed, and Madame Midas knew her husband well enough to know that six hundred pounds would soon slip through his fingers, so at the present time he must once more be penniless. If he was, why did he not come back to her and demand more money now she was rich? Even had he gone to a distant place, he would always have kept enough money to pay his way back to Victoria, so that he could wring money out of her. It was this unpleasant feeling of being watched that haunted her and made her uneasy. The constant strain began to tell on her; she became ill and haggard-looking, and her eyes were always glancing around in the anxious manner common to hunted animals. She felt as though she were advancing on a masked battery, and at any moment a shot might strike her from the most unexpected quarter. She tried to laugh off the feeling and blamed herself severely for the morbid state of mind into which she was falling; but it was no use, for by day and night the sense of impending misfortune hung over her like the sword of Damocles, ready to fall at any moment. If her husband would only appear, she would settle an income on him, on condition he ceased to trouble her, but at present she was fighting in the dark with an unknown enemy. She became afraid of being left alone, and even when seated quietly with Selina, would suddenly start and look apprehensively towards the door, as if she heard his footstep. Imagination, when uncontrolled, can keep the mind on a mental rack, to which that of the Inquisition was a bed of roses.

Selina was grieved at this state of things, and tried to argue and comfort her mistress with the most amiable proverbs, but she was quite unable to administer to a mind diseased, and Mrs Villiers' life became a perfect hell upon earth.

'Are my troubles never going to end?' she said to Selina on the night of the Meddlechip ball, as she paced restlessly up and down her room; 'this man has embittered the whole of my life, and now he is stabbing me in the dark.'

'Let the dead past bury its dead,' quoted Selina, who was arranging the room for the night.

'Pshaw!' retorted Madame, impatiently, walking to the French window at the end of the room and opening it; 'how do you know he is dead? Come here, Selina,' she went on, beckoning to the old woman, and pointing outside to the garden bathed in moonlight; 'I have always a dread lest he may be watching the house. Even now he may be concealed yonder'—pointing down the garden.

Selina looked out, but could see nothing. There was a smooth lawn, burnt and yellow with the heat, which stretched for about fifty feet, and ended in a low quickset hedge at the foot of a red brick wall which ran down that side of the property. The top of this wall was set with broken bottles, and beyond was the street, where they could hear people passing along. The moonlight rendered all this as light as day, and, as Selina pointed out to her mistress, there was no place where a man could conceal himself. But this did not satisfy Madame; she left the window half open, so that the cool night wind could blow in, and drew together the red velvet curtains which hung there.

'You've left the window open,' remarked Selina, looking at her mistress, 'and if you are nervous it will not make you feel safe.'

Madame Midas glanced at the window.

'It's so hot,' she said, plaintively, 'I will get no sleep. Can't you manage to fix it up, so that I can leave it open?'

'I'll try,' answered Selina, and she undressed her mistress and put her to bed, then proceeded to fix up a kind of burglar trap. The bed was a four-poster, with heavy crimson curtains, and the top was pushed against the wall, near the window. The curtains of the window and those of the bed prevented any draught blowing in; and directly in front of the window, Selina set a small wood table, so that anyone who tried to enter would throw it over, and thus put the sleeper on the alert. On this she put a night-light, a book, in case Madame should wake up and want to read—a thing she very often did— and a glass of homemade lemonade, for a night drink. Then she locked the other window and drew the curtains, and, after going into Kitty's room, which opened off the larger one, and fixing up the one window there in the same way, she prepared to retire, but Madame stopped her.

'You must stay all night with me, Selina,' she said, irritably. 'I can't be left alone.'

'But, Miss Kitty,' objected Selina, 'she'll expect to be waited for coming home from the ball.'

'Well, she comes in here to go to her own room,' said Madame, impatiently; 'you can leave the door unlocked.'

'Well,' observed Miss Sprotts, grimly, beginning to undress herself, 'for a nervous woman, you leave a great many windows and doors open.'

'I'm not afraid as long as you are with me,' said Madame, yawning; 'it's by myself I get nervous.'

Miss Sprotts sniffed, and observed that 'Prevention is better than cure,' then went to bed, and both she and Madame were soon fast asleep. Selina slept on the outside of the bed, and Madame, having a sense of security from being with someone, slumbered calmly; so the night wore drowsily on, and nothing could be heard but the steady ticking of the clock and the heavy breathing of the two women.

A sleepy servant admitted Kitty when she came home from the ball, and had said goodbye to Mrs Killer and Bellthorp. Then Mrs Riller, whose husband had gone home three hours before, drove away with Bellthorp, and Kitty went into Madame's room, while the sleepy servant, thankful that his vigil for the night was over, went to bed. Kitty found Madame's door ajar, and went in softly, fearful lest she might wake her. She did not know that Selina was in the room, and as she heard the steady breathing of the sleepers, she concluded that Madame was asleep, and resolved to go quietly into her own room without disturbing the sleeper. So eerie the room looked with the faint night-light burning on the table beside the bed, and all the shadows, not marked and distinct as in a strong glare, were faintly confused. Just near the door was a long chevral glass, and Kitty caught sight of herself in it, wan and spectral- looking, in her white dress, and, as she let the heavy blue cloak fall from her shoulders, a perfect shower of apple blossoms were shaken on to the floor. Her hair had come undone from its sleek, smooth plaits, and now hung like a veil of gold on her shoulders. She looked closely at herself in the glass, and her face looked worn and haggard in the dim light. A pungent acrid odour permeated the room, and the heavy velvet curtains moved with subdued rustlings as the wind stole in through the window. On a table near her was a portrait of Vandeloup, which he had given Madame two days before, and though she could not see the face she knew it was his. Stretching out her hand she took the photograph from its stand, and sank into a low chair which stood at the end of the room some distance from the bed. So noiseless were her movements that the two sleepers never awoke, and the girl sat in the chair with the portrait in her hand dreaming of the man whom it represented. She knew his handsome face was smiling up at her out of the glimmering gloom, and clenched her hands in anger as she thought how he had treated her. She let the portrait fall on her lap, and leaning back in the chair, with all her golden hair showering down loosely over her shoulders, gave herself up to reflection.

He was going to marry Madame Midas—the man who had ruined her life; he would hold another woman in his arms and tell her all the false tales he had told her. He would look into her eyes with his own, and she would be unable to see the treachery and guile hidden in their depths. She could not stand it. False friend, false lover, he had been, but to see him married to another—no! it was too much. And yet what could she do? A woman in love believes no ill of the man she adores, and if she was to tell Madame Midas all she would not be believed. Ah! it was useless to fight against fate, it was too strong for her, so she would have to suffer in silence, and see them happy. That story of Hans Andersen's, which she had read, about the little mermaid who danced, and felt that swords were wounding her feet while the prince smiled on his bride—yes, that was her case. She would have to stand by in silence and see him caressing another woman, while every caress would stab her like a sword. Was there no way of stopping it? Ah! what is that? The poison—no! no! anything but that. Madame had been kind to her, and she could not repay her trust with treachery. No, she was not weak enough for that. And yet suppose Madame died? no one could tell she had been poisoned, and then she could marry Vandeloup. Madame was sleeping in yonder bed, and on the table there was a glass with some liquid in it. She would only have to go to her room, fetch the poison, and put it in there— then retire to bed. Madame would surely drink during the night, and then—yes, there was only one way—the poison!

How still the house was: not a sound but the ticking of the clock in the hall and the rushing scamper of a rat or mouse. The dawn reddens faintly in the east and the chill morning breeze comes up from the south, salt with the odours of the ocean. Ah! what is that? a scream—a woman's voice—then another, and the bell rings furiously. The frightened servants collect from all parts of the house, in all shapes of dress and undress. The bell sounds from the bedroom of Mrs Villiers, and having ascertained this they all rush in. What a sight meets their eyes. Kitty Marchurst, still in her ball dress, clinging convulsively to the chair; Madame Midas, pale but calm, ringing the bell; and on the bed, with one arm hanging over, lies Selina Sprotts—dead! The table near the bed was overturned on the floor, and the glass and the night-lamp both lie smashed to pieces on the carpet.

'Send for a doctor at once,' cried Madame, letting go the bell-rope and crossing to the window; 'Selina has had a fit of some sort.'

Startled servant goes out to stables and wakes up the grooms, one of whom is soon on horseback riding for dear life to Dr Chinston. Clatter—clatter along in the keen morning air; a few workmen on their way to work gaze in surprise at this furious rider. Luckily, the doctor lives in St Kilda, and being awoke out of his sleep, dresses himself quickly, and taking the groom's horse, rides back to Mrs Villiers' house. He dismounts, enters the house, then the bedroom. Kitty, pale and wan, is seated in the chair; the window curtains are drawn, and the cold light of day pours into the room, while Madame Midas is kneeling beside the corpse, with all the servants around her. Dr Chinston lifts the arm; it falls limply down. The face is ghastly white, the eyes staring; there is a streak of foam on the tightly clenched mouth. The doctor puts his hand on the heart—not a throb; he closes the staring eyes reverently, and turns to the kneeling woman and the frightened servants.

'She is dead,' he says, briefly, and orders them to leave the room.

'When did this occur, Mrs Villiers?' he asked, when the room had been cleared and only himself, Madame, and Kitty remained.

'I can't tell you,' replied Madame, weeping; 'she was all right last night when we went to bed, and she stayed all night with me because I was nervous. I slept soundly, when I was awakened by a cry and saw Kitty standing beside the bed and Selina in convulsions; then she became quite still and lay like that till you came. What is the cause?'

'Apoplexy,' replied the doctor, doubtfully; 'at least, judging from the symptoms; but perhaps Miss Marchurst can tell us when the attack came on?'

He turned to Kitty, who was shivering in the chair and looked so pale that Madame Midas went over to her to see what was the matter. The girl, however, shrank away with a cry as the elder woman approached, and rising to her feet moved unsteadily towards the doctor.

'You say she,' pointing to the body, 'died of apoplexy?'

'Yes,' he answered, curtly, 'all the symptoms of apoplexy are there.'

'You are wrong!' gasped Kitty, laying her hand on his arm, 'it is poison!'

'Poison!' echoed Madame and the Doctor in surprise.

'Listen,' said Kitty, quickly, pulling herself together by a great effort. 'I came home from the ball between two and three, I entered the room to go to my own,' pointing to the other door; 'I did not know Selina was with Madame.'

'No,' said Madame, quietly, 'that is true, I only asked her to stop at the last moment.'

'I was going quietly to bed,' resumed Kitty, hurriedly, 'in order not to waken Madame, when I saw the portrait of M. Vandeloup on the table; I took it up to look at it.'

'How could you see without a light?' asked Dr Chinston, sharply, looking at her.

'There was a night light burning,' replied Kitty, pointing to the fragments on the floor; 'and I could only guess it was M. Vandeloup's portrait; but at all events,' she said, quickly, 'I sat down in the chair over there and fell asleep.'

'You see, doctor, she had been to a ball and was tired,' interposed Madame Midas; 'but go on, Kitty, I want to know why you say Selina was poisoned.'

'I don't know how long I was asleep,' said Kitty, wetting her dry lips with her tongue, 'but I was awoke by a noise at the window there,' pointing towards the window, upon which both her listeners turned towards it, 'and looking, I saw a hand coming out from behind the curtain with a bottle in it; it held the bottle over the glass on the table, and after pouring the contents in, then withdrew.'

'And why did you not cry out for assistance?' asked the doctor, quickly.

'I couldn't,' she replied, 'I was so afraid that I fainted. I recovered my senses, Selina had drank the poison, and when I got up on my feet and went to the bed she was in convulsions; I woke Madame, and that's all.'

'A strange story,' said Chinston, musingly, 'where is the glass?'

'It's broken, doctor,' replied Madame Midas; 'in getting out of bed I knocked the table down, and both the night lamp and glass smashed.'

'No one could have been concealed behind the curtain of the window?' said the doctor to Madame Midas.

'No,' she replied, 'but the window was open all night; so if it is as Kitty says, the man who gave the poison must have put his hand through the open window.'

Dr Chinston went to the window and looked out; there were no marks of feet on the flower bed, where it was so soft that anyone standing on it would have left a footmark behind.

'Strange,' said the doctor, 'it's a peculiar story,' looking at Kitty keenly.

'But a true one,' she replied boldly, the colour coming back to her face; 'I say she was poisoned.'

'By whom?' asked Madame Midas, the memory of her husband coming back to her.

'I can't tell you,' answered Kitty, 'I only saw the hand.'

'At all events,' said Chinston, slowly, 'the poisoner did not know that your nurse was with you, so the poison was meant for Mrs Villiers.'

Tor me?' she echoed, ghastly pale; 'I knew it,—my husband is alive, and this is his work.'



CHAPTER XII

A STARTLING DISCOVERY

Ill news travels fast, and before noon the death of Selina Sprotts was known all over Melbourne. The ubiquitous reporter, of course, appeared on the scene, and the evening papers gave its own version of the affair, and a hint at foul play. There was no grounds for this statement, as Dr Chinston told Kitty and Madame Midas to say nothing about the poison, and it was generally understood that the deceased had died from apoplexy. A rumour, however, which originated none knew how, crept about among everyone that poison was the cause of death, and this, being added to by some and embellished in all its little details by others, there was soon a complete story made up about the affair. At the Bachelor's Club it was being warmly spoken about when Vandeloup came in about eight o'clock in the evening; and when he appeared he was immediately overwhelmed with inquiries. He looked cool and calm as usual, and stood smiling quietly on the excited group before him.

'You know Mrs Villiers,' said Bellthorp, in an assertive tone, 'so you must know all about the affair.' 'I don't see that,' returned Gaston, pulling at his moustache, 'knowing anyone does not include a knowledge of all that goes on in the house. I assure you, beyond what there is in the papers, I am as ignorant as you are.'

'They say this woman—Sprotts or Potts, or something—died from poison,' said Barty Jarper, who had been all round the place collecting information.

'Apoplexy, the doctor says,' said Bellthorp, lighting a cigarette; 'she was in the same room with Mrs Villiers and was found dead in the morning.'

'Miss Marchurst was also in the room,' put in Barty, eagerly.

'Oh, indeed!' said Vandeloup, smoothly, turning to him; 'do you think she had anything to do with it?'

'Of course not,' said Rolleston, who had just entered, 'she had no reason to kill the woman.'

Vandeloup smiled.

'So logical you are,' he murmured, 'you want a reason for everything.'

'Naturally,' retorted Felix, fixing in his eyeglass, 'there is no effect without a cause.'

'It couldn't have been Miss Marchurst,' said Bellthorp, 'they say that the poison was poured out of a bottle held by a hand which came through the window—it's quite true,' defiantly looking at the disbelieving faces round him; 'one of Mrs Villiers' servants heard it in the house and told Mrs Killer's maid.'

'From whence,' said Vandeloup, politely, 'it was transmitted to you- -precisely.'

Bellthorp reddened slightly, and turned away as he saw the other smiling, for his relations with Mrs Killer were well known.

'That hand business is all bosh,' observed Felix Rolleston, authoritatively; 'it's in a play called "The Hidden Hand".'

'Perhaps the person who poisoned Miss Sprotts, got the idea from it?' suggested Jarper.

'Pshaw, my dear fellow,' said Vandeloup, languidly; 'people don't go to melodrama for ideas. Everyone has got their own version of this story; the best thing to do is to await the result of the inquest.'

'Is there to be an inquest?' cried all.

'So I've heard,' replied the Frenchman, coolly; 'sounds as if there was something wrong, doesn't it?'

'It's a curious poisoning case,' observed Bellthorp.

'Ah, but it isn't proved that there is any poisoning about it,' said Vandeloup, looking keenly at him; 'you jump to conclusions.'

'There is no smoke without fire,' replied Rolleston, sagely. 'I expect we'll all be rather astonished when the inquest is held,' and so the discussion closed.

The inquest was appointed to take place next day, and Calton had been asked by Madame Midas to be present on her behalf. Kilsip, a detective officer, was also present, and, curled up like a cat in the corner, was listening to every word of the evidence.

The first witness called was Madame Midas, who deposed that the deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, was her servant. She had gone to bed in excellent health, and next morning she had found her dead.

The Coroner asked a few questions relative to the case.

Q. Miss Marchurst awoke you, I believe?

A. Yes.

Q. And her room is off yours?

A. Yes.

Q. Had she to go through your room to reach her own?

A. She had. There was no other way of getting there.

Q. One of the windows of your room was open?

A. It was—all night.

Miss Kitty Marchurst was then called, and being sworn, gave her story of the hand coming through the window. This caused a great sensation in Court, and Calton looked puzzled, while Kilsip, scenting a mystery, rubbed his lean hands together softly.

Q. You live with Mrs Villiers, I believe, Miss Marchurst?

A. I do.

Q. And you knew the deceased intimately?

A. I had known her all my life.

Q. Had she anyone who would wish to injure her?

A. Not that I knew of. She was a favourite with everyone.

Q. What time did you come home from the ball you were at?

A. About half-past two, I think. I went straight to Mrs Villiers' room.

Q. With the intention of going through it to reach your own?

A. Yes.

Q. You say you fell asleep looking at a portrait. How long did you sleep?

A. I don't know. I was awakened by a noise at the window, and saw the hand appear.

Q. Was it a man's hand or a woman's?

A. I don't know. It was too indistinct for me to see clearly; and I was so afraid, I fainted.

Q. You saw it pour something from a bottle into the glass on the table?

A. Yes; but I did not see it withdraw. I fainted right off.

Q. When you recovered your senses, the deceased had drank the contents of the glass?

A. Yes. She must have felt thirsty and drank it, not knowing it was poisoned. Q. How do you know it was poisoned?

A. I only suppose so. I don't think anyone would come to a window and pour anything into a glass without some evil purpose.

The Coroner then asked why the glass with what remained of the contents had not been put in evidence, but was informed that the glass was broken.

When Kitty had ended her evidence and was stepping down, she caught the eye of Vandeloup, who was looking at her keenly. She met his gaze defiantly, and he smiled meaningly at her. At this moment, however, Kilsip bent forward and whispered something to the Coroner, whereupon Kitty was recalled.

Q. You were an actress, Miss Marchurst?

A. Yes. I was on tour with Mr Theodore Wopples for some time.

Q. Do you know a drama called 'The Hidden Hand'?

A. Yes—I have played in it once or twice.

Q. Is there not a strong resemblance between your story of this crime and the drama?

A. Yes, it is very much the same.

Kilsip then gave his evidence, and deposed that he had examined the ground between the window, where the hand was alleged to have appeared, and the garden wall. There were no footmarks on the flower-bed under the window, which was the only place where footmarks would show, as the lawn itself was hard and dry. He also examined the wall, but could find no evidence that anyone had climbed over it, as it was defended by broken bottles, and the bushes at its foot were not crushed or disturbed in any way.

Dr Chinston was then called, and deposed that he had made a post- mortem examination of the body of the deceased. The body was that of a woman of apparently fifty or fifty-five years of age, and of medium height; the body was well nourished. There were no ulcers or other signs of disease, and no marks of violence on the body. The brain was congested and soft, and there was an abnormal amount of fluid in the spaces known as the ventricles of the brain; the lungs were gorged with dark fluid blood; the heart appeared healthy, its left side was contracted and empty, but the right was dilated and filled with dark fluid blood; the stomach was somewhat congested, and contained a little partially digested food; the intestines here and there were congested, and throughout the body the blood was dark and fluid.

Q. What then, in your opinion, was the cause of death?

A. In my opinion death resulted from serous effusion on the brain, commonly known as serous apoplexy.

Q. Then you found no appearances in the stomach, or elsewhere, which would lead you to believe poison had been taken?

A. No, none.

Q. From the post-mortem examination could you say the death of the deceased was not due to some narcotic poison?

A. No: the post-mortem appearances of the body are quite consistent with those of poisoning by certain poisons, but there is no reason to suppose that any poison has been administered in this case, as I, of course, go by what I see; and the presence of poisons, especially vegetable poisons, can only be detected by chemical analysis.

Q. Did you analyse the contents of the stomach chemically?

A. No; it was not my duty to do so; I handed over the stomach to the police, seeing that there is suspicion of poison, and thence it will go to the Government analyst.

Q. It is stated that the deceased had convulsions before she died— is this not a symptom of narcotic poisoning?

A. In some cases, yes, but not commonly; aconite, for instance, always produces convulsions in animals, seldom in man.

Q. How do you account for the congested condition of the lungs?

A. I believe the serous effusion caused death by suspended respiration.

Q. Was there any odour perceptible?

A. No, none whatsoever.

The inquest was then adjourned till next day, and there was great excitement over the affair. If Kitty Marchurst's statement was true, the deceased must have died from the administration of poison; but, on the other hand, Dr Chinston asserted positively that there was no trace of poison, and that the deceased had clearly died from apoplexy. Public opinion was very much divided, some asserting that Kitty's story was true, while others said she had got the idea from 'The Hidden Hand', and only told it in order to make herself notorious. There were plenty of letters written to the papers on the subject, each offering a new solution of the difficulty, but the fact remained the same, that Kitty said the deceased had been poisoned; the doctor that she had died of apoplexy. Calton was considerably puzzled over the matter. Of course, there was no doubt that the man who committed the murder had intended to poison Madame Midas, but the fact that Selina stayed all night with her, had resulted in the wrong person being killed. Madame Midas told Calton the whole story of her life, and asserted positively that if the poison was meant for her, Villiers must have administered it. This was all very well, but the question then arose, was Villiers alive? The police were once more set to work, and once more their search resulted in nothing. Altogether the whole affair was wrapped in mystery, as it could not even be told if a murder had been committed, or if the deceased had died from natural causes. The only chance of finding out the truth would be to have the stomach analysed, and the cause of death ascertained; once that was done, and the matter could be gone on with, or dropped, according to the report of the analyst. If he said it was apoplexy, Kitty's story would necessarily have to be discredited as an invention; but if, on the other hand, the traces of poison were found, search would have to be made for the murderer. Matters were at a deadlock, and everyone waited impatiently for the report of the analyst. Suddenly, however, a new interest was given to the case by the assertion that a Ballarat doctor, called Gollipeck, who was a noted toxicologist, had come down to Melbourne to assist at the analysis of the stomach, and knew something which would throw light on the mysterious death.

Vandeloup saw the paragraph which gave this information, and it disturbed him very much.

'Curse that book of Prevol's,' he said to himself, as he threw down the paper: 'it will put them on the right track, and then—well,' observed M. Vandeloup, sententiously, 'they say danger sharpens a man's wits; it's lucky for me if it does.'



CHAPTER XIII

DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND

M. Vandeloup's rooms in Clarendon Street, East Melbourne, were very luxuriously and artistically furnished, in perfect accordance with the taste of their owner, but as the satiated despot is depicted by the moralists as miserable amid all his splendour, so M. Gaston Vandeloup, though not exactly miserable, was very ill at ease. The inquest had been adjourned until the Government analyst, assisted by Dr Gollipeck, had examined the stomach, and according to a paragraph in the evening paper, some strange statements, implicating various people, would be made next day. It was this that made Vandeloup so uneasy, for he knew that Dr Gollipeck would trace a resemblance between the death of Selina Sprotts in Melbourne and Adele Blondet in Paris, and then the question would arise how the poison used in the one case came to be used in the other. If that question arose it would be all over with him, for he would not dare to face any examination, and as discretion is the better part of valour, M. Vandeloup decided to leave the country. With his usual foresight he had guessed that Dr Gollipeck would be mixed up in the affair, so had drawn his money out of all securities in which it was invested, sent most of it to America to a New York bank, reserving only a certain sum for travelling purposes. He was going to leave Melbourne next morning by the express train for Sydney, and there would catch the steamer to San Francisco via New Zealand and Honolulu. Once in America and he would be quite safe, and as he now had plenty of money he could enjoy himself there. He had given up the idea of marrying Madame Midas, as he dare not run the risk of remaining in Australia, but then there were plenty of heiresses in the States he could marry if he chose, so to give her up was a small matter. Another thing, he would be rid of Pierre Lemaire, for once let him put the ocean between him and the dumb man he would take care they never met again. Altogether, M. Vandeloup had taken all precautions to secure his own safety with his usual promptitude and coolness, but notwithstanding that another twelve hours would see him on his way to Sydney en route for the States, he felt slightly uneasy, for as he often said, 'There are always possibilities.'

It was about eight o'clock at night, and Gaston was busy in his rooms packing up to go away next morning. He had disposed of his apartments to Bellthorp, as that young gentleman had lately come in for some money and was dissatisfied with the paternal roof, where he was kept too strictly tied up.

Vandeloup, seated in his shirt sleeves in the midst of a chaos of articles of clothing, portmanteaux, and boxes, was, with the experience of an accomplished traveller, rapidly putting these all away in the most expeditious and neatest manner. He wanted to get finished before ten o'clock, so that he could go down to his club and show himself, in order to obviate any suspicion as to his going away. He did not intend to send out any P.P.C. cards, as he was a modest young man and wanted to slip unostentatiously out of the country; besides, there was nothing like precaution, as the least intimation of his approaching departure would certainly put Dr Gollipeck on the alert and cause trouble. The gas was lighted, there was a bright glare through all the room, and everything was in confusion, with M. Vandeloup seated in the centre, like Marius amid the ruins of Carthage. While thus engaged there came a ring at the outer door, and shortly afterwards Gaston's landlady entered his room with a card.

'A gentleman wants to see you, sir,' she said, holding out the card.

'I'm not at home,' replied Vandeloup, coolly, removing the cigarette he was smoking from his mouth; 'I can't see anyone tonight.'

'He says you'd like to see him, sir,' answered the woman, standing at the door.

'The deuce he does,' muttered Vandeloup, uneasily; 'I wonder what this pertinacious gentleman's name is? and he glanced at the card, whereon was written 'Dr Gollipeck'.

Vandeloup felt a chill running through him as he rose to his feet. The battle was about to begin, and he knew he would need all his wit and skill to get himself out safely. Dr Gollipeck had thrown down the gauntlet, and he would have to pick it up. Well, it was best to know the worst at once, so he told the landlady he would see Gollipeck downstairs. He did not want him to come up there, as he would see all the evidences of his intention to leave the country.

'I'll see him downstairs,' he said, sharply, to the landlady; 'ask the gentleman to wait.'

The landlady, however, was pushed roughly to one side, and Dr Gollipeck, rusty and dingy-looking as ever, entered the room.

'No need, my dear friend,' he said in his grating voice, blinking at the young man through his spectacles, 'we can talk here.'

Vandeloup signed to the landlady to leave the room, which she did, closing the door after her, and then, pulling himself together with a great effort, he advanced smilingly on the doctor.

'Ah, my dear Monsieur,' he said, in his musical voice, holding out both hands, 'how pleased I am to see you.'

Dr Gollipeck gurgled pleasantly in his throat at this and laughed, that is, something apparently went wrong in his inside and a rasping noise came out of his mouth.

'You clever young man,' he said, affectionately, to Gaston, as he unwound a long crimson woollen scarf from his throat, and thereby caused a button to fly off his waistcoat with the exertion. Dr Gollipeck, however, being used to these little eccentricities of his toilet, pinned the waistcoat together, and then, sitting down, spread his red bandanna handkerchief over his knees, and stared steadily at Vandeloup, who had put on a loose velvet smoking coat, and, with a cigarette in his mouth, was leaning against the mantelpiece. It was raining outside, and the pleasant patter of the raindrops was quite audible in the stillness of the room, while every now and then a gust of wind would make the windows rattle, and shake the heavy green curtains. The two men eyed one another keenly, for they both knew they had an unpleasant quarter of an hour before them, and were like two clever fencers—both watching their opportunity to begin the combat. Gollipeck, with his greasy coat, all rucked up behind his neck, and his frayed shirt cuffs coming down on his ungainly hands, sat sternly silent, so Vandeloup, after contemplating him for a few moments, had to begin the battle.

'My room is untidy, is it not?' he said, nodding his head carelessly at the chaos of furniture. 'I'm going away for a few days.'

'A few days; ha, ha!' observed Gollipeck, something again going wrong with his inside. 'Your destination is—

'Sydney,' replied Gaston, promptly.

'And then?' queried the doctor.

Gaston shrugged his shoulders.

'Depends upon circumstances,' he answered, lazily.

'That's a mistake,' retorted Gollipeck, leaning forward; 'it depends upon me.'

Vandeloup smiled.

'In that case, circumstances, as represented by you, will permit me to choose my own destinations.'

'Depends entirely upon your being guided by circumstances, as represented by me,' retorted the Doctor, grimly.

'Pshaw!' said the Frenchman, coolly, 'let us have done with allegory, and come to common sense. What do you want?'

'I want Octave Braulard,' said Gollipeck, rising to his feet.

Vandeloup quite expected this, and was too clever to waste time in denying his identity.

'He stands before you,' he answered, curtly, 'what then?'

'You acknowledge, then, that you are Octave Braulard, transported to New Caledonia for the murder of Adele Blondet?' said the Doctor tapping the table with one hand.

'To you—yes,' answered Vandeloup, crossing to the door and locking it; 'to others—no.'

'Why do you lock the door?' asked Gollipeck, gruffly.

'I don't want my private affairs all over Melbourne,' retorted Gaston, smoothly, returning to his position in front of the fireplace; 'are you afraid?'

Something again went wrong with Dr Gollipeck's inside, and he grated out a hard ironical laugh.

'Do I look afraid?' he asked, spreading out his hands.

Vandeloup stooped down to the portmanteau lying open at his feet, and picked up a revolver, which he pointed straight at Gollipeck.

'You make an excellent target,' he observed, quickly, putting his finger on the trigger.

Dr Gollipeck sat down, and arranged his handkerchief once more over his knees.

'Very likely,' he answered, coolly, 'but a target you won't practise on.'

'Why not?' asked Vandeloup, still keeping his finger on the trigger.

'Because the pistol-shot would alarm the house,' said Gollipeck, serenely, 'and if I was found dead, you would be arrested for my murder. If I was only wounded I could tell a few facts about M. Octave Braulard that would have an unpleasant influence on the life of M. Gaston Vandeloup.'

Vandeloup laid the pistol down on the mantelpiece with a laugh, lit a cigarette, and, sitting down in a chair opposite Gollipeck, began to talk.

'You are a brave man,' he said, coolly blowing a wreath of smoke, 'I admire brave men.'

'You are a clever man,' retorted the doctor; 'I admire clever men.'

'Very good,' said Vandeloup, crossing one leg over the other. 'As we now understand one another, I await your explanation of this visit.'

Dr Gollipeck, with admirable composure, placed his hands on his knees, and acceded to the request of M. Vandeloup.

'I saw in the Ballarat and Melbourne newspapers,' he said, quietly, 'that Selina Sprotts, the servant of Mrs Villiers, was dead. The papers said foul play was suspected, and according to the evidence of Kitty Marchurst, whom, by the way, I remember very well, the deceased had been poisoned. An examination was made of the body, but no traces of poison were found. Knowing you were acquainted with Madame Midas, and recognising this case as a peculiar one—seeing that poison was asserted to have been given, and yet no appearances could be found—I came down to Melbourne, saw the doctor who had analysed the body, and heard what he had to say on the subject. The symptoms were described as apoplexy, similar to those of a woman who died in Paris called Adele Blondet, and whose case was reported in a book by Messrs Prevol and Lebrun. Becoming suspicious, I assisted at a chemical analysis of the body, and found that the woman Sprotts had been poisoned by an extract of hemlock, the same poison used in the case of Adele Blondet. The man who poisoned Adele Blondet was sent to New Caledonia, escaped from there, and came to Australia, and prepared this poison at Ballarat; and why I called here tonight was to know the reason M. Octave Braulard, better known as Gaston Vandeloup, poisoned Selina Sprotts in mistake for Madame Midas.'

If Doctor Gollipeck had thought to upset Vandeloup by this recital, he was never more mistaken in his life, for that young gentleman heard him coolly to the end, and taking the cigarette out of his mouth, smiled quietly.

'In the first place,' he said, smoothly, 'I acknowledge the truth of all your story except the latter part, and I must compliment you on the admirable way you have guessed the identity of Braulard with Vandeloup, as you have no proof to show that they are the same. But with regard to the death of Mademoiselle Sprotts, she died as you have said; but I, though the maker of the poison, did not administer it.'

'Who did, then?' asked Gollipeck, who was quite prepared for this denial.

Vandeloup smoothed his moustache, and looked at the doctor with a keen glance.

'Kitty Marchurst,' he said, coolly.

The rain was beating wildly against the windows and someone in the room below was playing the eternal waltz, 'One summer's night in Munich', while Vandeloup, leaning back in his chair, stared at Dr Gollipeck, who looked at him disbelievingly.

'It's not true,' he said, harshly; 'what reason had she to poison the woman Sprotts?'

'None at all,' replied Vandeloup, blandly; 'but she had to poison Mrs Villiers.'

'Go on,' said Gollipeck, gruffly; 'I've no doubt you will make up an admirable story.'

'So kind of you to compliment me,' observed Vandeloup, lightly; 'but in this instance I happen to tell the truth—Kitty Marchurst was my mistress.'

'It was you that ruined her, then?' cried Gollipeck, pushing back his chair.

Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.

'If you put it that way—yes,' he answered, simply; 'but she fell into my mouth like ripe fruit. Surely,' with a sneer, 'at your age you don't believe in virtue?'

'Yes, I do,' retorted Gollipeck, fiercely.

'More fool you!' replied Gaston, with a libertine look on his handsome face. 'Balzac never said a truer word than that "a woman's virtue is man's greatest invention." Well, we won't discuss morality now. She came with me to Melbourne and lived as my mistress; then she wanted to marry me, and I refused. She had a bottle of the poison which I had made, and threatened to take it and kill herself. I prevented her, and then she left me, went on the stage, and afterwards meeting Madame Midas, went to live with her, and we renewed our acquaintance. On the night of this—well, murder, if you like to call it so—we were at a ball together. Mademoiselle Marchurst heard that I was going to marry Madame Midas. She asked me if it was true. I did not deny it; and she said she would sooner poison Mrs Villiers than see her married to me. She went home, and not knowing the dead woman was in bed with Madame Midas, poisoned the drink, and the consequences you know. As to this story of the hand, bah! it is a stage play, that is all!'

Dr Gollipeck rose and walked to and fro in the little clear space left among the disorder.

'What a devil you are!' he said, looking at Vandeloup admiringly.

'What, because I did not poison this woman?' he said, in a mocking tone. 'Bah! you are less moral than I thought you were.'

The doctor did not take any notice of this sneer, but, putting his hands in his pockets, faced round to the young man.

'I give my evidence to-morrow,' he said quietly, looking keenly at the young man, 'and I prove conclusively the woman was poisoned. To do this, I must refer to the case of Adele Blondet, and then that implicates you.'

'Pardon me,' observed Vandeloup, coolly, removing some ash from his velvet coat, 'it implicates Octave Braulard, who is at present,' with a sharp look at Gollipeck, 'in New Caledonia.'

'If that is the case,' asked the doctor, gruffly, 'who are you?'

'I am the friend of Braulard,' said Vandeloup, in a measured tone. 'Myself, Braulard, and Prevol—one of the writers of the book you refer to—were medical students together, and we all three emphatically knew about this poison extracted from hemlock.'

He spoke so quietly that Gollipeck looked at him in a puzzled manner, not understanding his meaning.

'You mean Braulard and Prevol were medical students?' he said, doubtfully.

'Exactly,' assented M. Vandeloup, with an airy wave of his hand. 'Gaston Vandeloup is a fictitious third person I have called into existence for my own safety—you understand. As Gaston Vandeloup, a friend of Braulard, I knew all about this poison, and manufactured it in Ballarat for a mere experiment, and as Gaston Vandeloup I give evidence against the woman who was my mistress on the ground of poisoning Selina Sprotts with hemlock.'

'You are not shielding yourself behind this girl?' asked the doctor, coming close to him.

'How could I?' replied Vandeloup, slipping his hand into his pocket. 'I could not have gone down to St Kilda, climbed over a wall with glass bottles on top, and committed the crime, as Kitty Marchurst says it was done. If I had done this there would be some trace—no, I assure you Mademoiselle Marchurst, and none other, is the guilty woman. She was in the room—Madame Midas asleep in bed. What was easier for her than to pour the poison into the glass, which stood ready to receive it? Mind you, I don't say she did it deliberately— impulse—hallucination—madness—what you like—but she did it.'

'By God!' cried Gollipeck, warmly, 'you'd argue a rope round the girl's neck even before she has had a trial. I believe you did it yourself.'

'If I did,' retorted Vandeloup, coolly, 'when I am in the witness- box I run the risk of being found out. Be it so. I take my chance of that; but I ask you to keep silent as to Gaston Vandeloup being Octave Braulard.'

'Why should I?' said the doctor, harshly.

'For many admirable reasons,' replied Vandeloup, smoothly. 'In the first place, as Braulard's friend, I can prove the case against Mademoiselle Marchurst quite as well as if I appeared as Braulard himself. In the next place, you have no evidence to prove I am identical with the murderer of Adele Blondet; and, lastly, suppose you did prove it, what satisfaction would it be to you to send me back to a French prison? I have suffered enough for my crime, and now I am rich and respectable, why should you drag me back to the depths again? Read "Les Miserables" of our great Hugo before you answer, my friend.'

'Read the book long ago,' retorted Gollipeck, gruffly, more moved by the argument than he cared to show; 'I will keep silent about this if you leave the colony at once.'

'I agree,' said Vandeloup, pointing to the floor; 'you see I had already decided to travel before you entered. Any other stipulation?'

'None,' retorted the doctor, putting on his scarf again; 'with Octave Braulard I have nothing to do: I want to find out who killed Selina Sprotts, and if you did, I won't spare you.'

'First, catch your hare,' replied Vandeloup, smoothly, going to the door and unlocking it; 'I am ready to stand the test of a trial, and surely that ought to content you. As it is, I'll stay in Melbourne long enough to give you the satisfaction of hanging this woman for the murder, and then I will go to America.'

Dr Gollipeck was disgusted at the smooth brutality of this man, and moved hastily to the door.

'Will you not have a glass of wine?' asked Vandeloup, stopping him.

'Wine with you?' said the doctor, harshly, looking him up and down; 'no, it would choke me,' and he hurried away.

'I wish it would,' observed M. Vandeloup, pleasantly, as he reentered the room, 'whew! this devil of a doctor—what a dangerous fool, but I have got the better of him, and at all events,' he said, lighting another cigarette, 'I have saved Vandeloup from suffering for the crime of Braulard.'



CHAPTER XIV

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE

There was no doubt the Sprotts' poisoning case was the sensation of the day in Melbourne. The papers were full of it, and some even went so far as to give a plan of the house, with dotted lines thereon, to show how the crime was committed. All this was extremely amusing, for, as a matter of fact, the evidence as yet had not shown any reasonable ground for supposing foul play had taken place. One paper, indeed, said that far too much was assumed in the case, and that the report of the Government analyst should be waited for before such emphatic opinions were given by the press regarding the mode of death. But it was no use trying to reason with the public, they had got it into their sage heads that a crime had been committed, and demanded evidence; so as the press had no real evidence to give, they made it up, and the public, in private conversations, amplified the evidence until they constructed a complete criminal case.

'Pshaw!' said Rolleston, when he read these sensational reports, 'in spite of the quidnuncs the mountain will only produce a mouse after all.'

But he was wrong, for now rumours were started that the Government analyst and Dr Gollipeck had found poison in the stomach, and that, moreover, the real criminal would be soon discovered. Public opinion was much divided as to who the criminal was—some, having heard the story of Madame's marriage, said it was her husband; others insisted Kitty Marchurst was the culprit, and was trying to shield herself behind this wild story of the hand coming from behind the curtains; while others were in favour of suicide. At all events, on the morning when the inquest was resumed, and the evidence was to be given of the analysis of the stomach, the Court was crowded, and a dead silence pervaded the place when the Government analyst stood up to give his evidence. Madame Midas was present, with Kitty seated beside her, the latter looking pale and ill; and Kilsip, with a gratified smile on his face which seemed as though he had got a clue to the whole mystery, was seated next to Calton. Vandeloup, faultlessly dressed, and as cool and calm as possible, was also in Court; and Dr Gollipeck, as he awaited his turn to give evidence, could not help admiring the marvellous nerve and courage of the young man.

The Government analyst being called, was sworn in the usual way, and deposed that the stomach of the deceased had been sent to him to be analysed. He had used the usual tests, and found the presence of the alkaloid of hemlock, known under the name of conia. In his opinion the death of the deceased was caused by the administration of an extract of hemlock. (Sensation in the Court.)

Q. Then in your opinion the deceased has been poisoned?

A. Yes, I have not the least doubt on the subject, I detected the conia very soon after the tests were applied.

There was great excitement when this evidence was concluded, as it gave quite a new interest to the case. The question as to the cause of death was now set at rest—the deceased had been murdered, so the burning anxiety of every one was to know who had committed the crime. All sorts of opinions were given, but the murmur of voices ceased when Dr Gollipeck stood up to give his evidence.

He deposed that he was a medical practitioner, practising at Ballarat; he had seen the report of the case in the papers, and had come down to Melbourne as he thought he could throw a certain light on the affair—for instance, where the poison was procured. (Sensation.) About three years ago a crime had been committed in Paris, which caused a great sensation at the time. The case being a peculiar one, was reported in a medical work, by Messieurs Prevol and Lebrun, which he had obtained from France some two years back. The facts of the case were shortly these: An actress called Adele Blondet died from the effects of poison, administered to her by Octave Braulard, who was her lover; the deceased had also another lover, called Kestrike, who was supposed to be implicated in the crime, but he had escaped; the woman in this case had been poisoned by an extract of hemlock, the same poison used as in the case of Selina Sprotts, and it was the similarity of the symptoms that made him suspicious of the sudden death. Braulard was sent out to New Caledonia for the murder. While in Paris he had been a medical student with two other gentlemen, one of whom was Monsieur Prevol, who had reported the case, and the other was at present in Court, and was called M. Gaston Vandeloup. (Sensation in Court, everyone's eye being fixed on Vandeloup, who was calm and unmoved.) M. Vandeloup had manufactured the poison used in this case, but with regard to how it was administered to the deceased, he would leave that evidence to M. Vandeloup himself.

When Gollipeck left the witness-box there was a dead silence, as everyone was too much excited at his strange story to make any comment thereon. Madame Midas looked with some astonishment on Vandeloup as his name was called out, and he moved gracefully to the witness-box, while Kitty's face grew paler even than it was before. She did not know what Vandeloup was going to say, but a great dread seized her, and with dry lips and clenched hands she sat staring at him as if paralysed. Kilsip stole a look at her and then rubbed his hands together, while Calton sat absolutely still, scribbling figures on his notepaper.

M. Gaston Vandeloup, being sworn, deposed: He was a native of France, of Flemish descent, as could be seen from his name; he had known Braulard intimately; he also knew Prevol; he had been eighteen months in Australia, and for some time had been clerk to Mrs Villiers at Ballarat; he was fond of chemistry—yes; and had made several experiments with poisons while up at Ballarat with Dr Gollipeck, who was a great toxicologist; he had seen the hemlock in the garden of an hotel-keeper at Ballarat, called Twexby, and had made an extract therefrom; he only did it by way of experiment, and had put the bottle containing the poison in his desk, forgetting all about it; the next time he saw that bottle was in the possession of Miss Kitty Marchurst (sensation in Court); she had threatened to poison herself; he again saw the bottle in her possession on the night of the murder; this was at the house of M. Meddlechip. A report had been circulated that he (the witness) was going to marry Mrs Villiers, and Miss Marchurst asked him if it was true; he had denied it, and Miss Marchurst had said that sooner than he (the witness) should marry Mrs Villiers she would poison her; the next morning he heard that Selina Sprotts was dead.

Kitty Marchurst heard all this evidence in dumb horror. She now knew that after ruining her life this man wanted her to die a felon's death. She arose to her feet and stretched out her hands in protest against him, but before she could speak a word the place seemed to whirl round her, and she fell down in a dead faint. This event caused great excitement in court, and many began to assert positively that she must be guilty, else why did she faint. Kitty was taken out of Court, and the examination was proceeded with, while Madame Midas sat pale and horror-struck at the revelations which were now being made.

The Coroner now proceeded to cross-examine Vandeloup.

Q. You say you put the bottle containing this poison into your desk; how did Miss Marchurst obtain it?

A. Because she lived with me for some time, and had access to my private papers.

Q. Was she your wife?

A. No, my mistress (sensation in Court).

Q. Why did she leave you?

A. We had a difference of opinion about the question of marriage, so she left me.

Q. She wanted you to make reparation; in other words, to marry her?

A. Yes.

Q. And you refused?

A. Yes.

Q. It was on this occasion she produced the poison first?

A. Yes. She told me she had taken it from my desk, and would poison herself if I did not marry her; she changed her mind, however, and went away.

Q. Did you know what became of her?

A. Yes; I heard she went on the stage with M. Wopples.

Q. Did she take the poison with her?

A. Yes.

Q. How do you know she took the poison with her?

A. Because next time I saw her it was still in her possession.

Q. That was at Mr Meddlechip's ball?

A. Yes.

Q. On the night of the commission of the crime?

A. Yes.

Q. What made her take it to the ball?

A. Rather a difficult question to answer. She heard rumours that I was to marry Mrs Villiers, and even though I denied it declined to believe me; she then produced the poison, and said she would take it.

Q. Where did this conversation take place?

A. In the conservatory.

Q. What did you do when she threatened to take the poison?

A. I tried to take it from her.

Q. Did you succeed?

A. No; she threw it out of the door.

Q. Then when she left Mr Meddlechip's house to come home she had no poison with her?

A. I don't think so.

Q. Did she pick the bottle up again after she threw it out?

A. No, because I went back to the ball-room with her; then I came out myself to look for the bottle, but it was gone.

Q. You have never seen it since.

A. No, it must have been picked up by someone who was ignorant of its contents.

Q. By your own showing, M. Vandeloup, Miss Marchurst had no poison with her when she left Mr Meddlechip's house. How, then, could she commit this crime?

A. She told me she still had some poison left; that she divided the contents of the bottle she had taken from my desk, and that she still had enough left at home to poison Mrs Villiers.

Q. Did she say she would poison Mrs Villiers?

A. Yes, sooner than see her married to me. (Sensation.)

Q. Do you believe she went away from you with the deliberate intention of committing the crime.

A. I do.

M. Vandeloup then left the box amid great excitement, and Kilsip was again examined. He deposed that he had searched Miss Marchurst's room, and found half a bottle of extract of hemlock. The contents of the bottle had been analysed, and were found identical with the conia discovered in the stomach of the deceased.

Q. You say the bottle was half empty?

A. Rather more than that: three-quarters empty.

Q. Miss Marchurst told M. Vandeloup she had poured half the contents of one bottle into the other. Would not this account for the bottle being three-quarters empty?

A. Possibly; but if the first bottle was full, it is probable she would halve the poison exactly; so if it had been untouched, it ought to be half full.

Q. Then you think some of the contents of this bottle were used?

A. That is my opinion.

Vandeloup was recalled, and deposed that the bottle Kitty took from his desk was quite full; and moreover, when the other bottle which had been found in her room, was shown to him, he declared that it was as nearly as possible the same size as the missing bottle. So the inference drawn from this was that the bottle produced being three-quarters empty, some of the poison had been used.

The question now arose that as the guilt of Miss Marchurst seemed so certain, how was it that Selina Sprotts was poisoned instead of her mistress; but this was settled by Madame Midas, who being recalled, deposed that Kitty did not know Selina slept with her on that night, and the curtains being drawn, could not possibly tell two people were in the bed.

This was all the evidence obtainable, and the coroner now proceeded to sum up.

The case, he said, was a most remarkable one, and it would be necessary for the jury to consider very gravely all the evidence laid before them in order to arrive at a proper conclusion before giving their verdict. In the first place, it had been clearly proved by the Government analyst that the deceased had died from effects of conia, which was, as they had been told, the alkaloid of hemlock, a well-known hedge plant which grows abundantly in most parts of Great Britain. According to the evidence of Dr Chinston, the deceased had died from serous apoplexy, and from all the post-mortem appearances this was the case. But they must remember that it was almost impossible to detect certain vegetable poisons, such as aconite and atropia, without minute chemical analysis. They would remember a case which startled London some years ago, in which the poisoner had poisoned his brother-in-law by means of aconite, and it taxed all the ingenuity and cleverness of experts to find the traces of poison in the stomach of the deceased. In this case, however, thanks to Dr Gollipeck, who had seen the similarity of the symptoms between the post-mortem appearance of the stomach of Adele Blondet and the present case, the usual tests for conia were applied, and as they had been told by the Government analyst, the result was conia was found. So they could be quite certain that the deceased had died of poison—that poison being conia. The next thing for them to consider was how the poison was administered. According to the evidence of Miss Marchurst, some unknown person had been standing outside the window and poured the poison into the glass on the table. Mrs Villiers had stated that the window was open all night, and from the position of the table near it—nothing would be easier than for anyone to introduce the poison into the glass as asserted by Miss Marchurst. On the other hand, the evidence of the detective Kilsip went to show that no marks were visible as to anyone having been at the window; and another thing which rendered Miss Marchurst's story doubtful was the resemblance it had to a drama in which she had frequently acted, called 'The Hidden Hand'. In the last act of that drama poison was administered to one of the characters in precisely the same manner, and though of course such a thing might happen in real life, still in this case it was a highly suspicious circumstance that a woman like Miss Marchurst, who had frequently acted in the drama, should see the same thing actually occur off the stage. Rejecting, then, as improbable the story of the hidden hand, seeing that the evidence was strongly against it, the next thing was to look into Miss Marchurst's past life and see if she had any motive for committing the crime. Before doing so, however, he would point out to them that Miss Marchurst was the only person in the room when the crime was committed. The window in her own room and one of the windows in Mrs Villiers' room were both locked, and the open window had a table in front of it, so that anyone entering would very probably knock it over, and thus awaken the sleepers. On the other hand, no one could have entered in at the door, because they would not have had time to escape before the crime was discovered. So it was clearly shown that Miss Marchurst must have been alone in the room when the crime was committed. Now to look into her past life—it was certainly not a very creditable one. M. Vandeloup had sworn that she had been his mistress for over a year, and had taken the poison manufactured by himself out of his private desk. Regarding M. Vandeloup's motives in preparing such a poison he could say nothing. Of course, he probably did it by way of experiment to find out if this colonial grown hemlock possessed the same poisonous qualities as it did in the old world. It was a careless thing of him, however, to leave it in his desk, where it could be obtained, for all such dangerous matters should be kept under lock and key. To go back, however, to Miss Marchurst. It had been proved by M. Vandeloup that she was his mistress, and that they quarrelled. She produced this poison, and said she would kill herself. M. Vandeloup persuaded her to abandon the idea, and she subsequently left him, taking the poison with her. She then went on the stage, and subsequently left it in order to live with Mrs Villiers as her companion. All this time she still had the poison, and in order to prevent her losing it she put half of it into another bottle. Now this looked very suspicious, as, if she had not intended to use it she certainly would never have taken such trouble over preserving it. She meets M. Vandeloup at a ball, and, hearing that he is going to marry Mrs Villiers, she loses her head completely, and threatens to poison herself. M. Vandeloup tries to wrench the poison from her, whereupon she flings it into the garden. This bottle has disappeared, and the presumption is that it was picked up. But if the jury had any idea that the poison was administered from the lost bottle, they might as well dismiss it from their minds, as it was absurd to suppose such an improbable thing could happen. In the first place no one but M. Vandeloup and Miss Marchurst knew what the contents were, and in the second place what motive could anyone who picked it up have in poisoning Mrs Villiers, and why should they adopt such an extraordinary way of doing it, as Miss Marchurst asserted they did? On the other hand, Miss Marchurst tells M. Vandeloup that she still has some poison left, and that she will kill Mrs Villiers sooner than see her married to him. She declares to M. Vandeloup that she will kill her, and leaves the house to go home with, apparently, all the intention of doing so. She comes home filled with all the furious rage of a jealous woman, and enters Mrs Villiers' room, and here the jury will recall the evidence of Mrs Villiers, who said Miss Marchurst did not know that the deceased was sleeping with her. So when Miss Marchurst entered the room, she naturally thought that Mrs Villiers was by herself, and would, as a matter of course, refrain from drawing the curtains and looking into the bed, in case she should awaken her proposed victim. There was a glass with drink on the table; she was alone with Mrs Villiers, her heart filled with jealous rage against a woman she thinks is her rival. Her own room is a few steps away— what, then, was easier for her than to go to her own room, obtain the poison, and put it into the glass? The jury will remember in the evidence of Mr Kilsip, the bottle was three-quarters empty, which argued some of it had been used. All the evidence against Miss Marchurst was purely circumstantial, for if she committed the crime, no human eye beheld her doing so. But the presumption of her having done so, in order to get rid of a successful rival, was very strong, and the weight of evidence was dead against her. The jury would, therefore, deliver their verdict in accordance with the facts laid before them.

The jury retired, and the court was very much excited. Everyone was quite certain that Kitty was guilty, but there was a strong feeling against M. Vandeloup as having been in some measure the cause, though indirectly, of the crime. But that young gentleman, in accordance with his usual foresight, had left the court and gone straight home, as he had no wish to face a crowd of sullen faces, and perhaps worse. Madame Midas sat still in the court awaiting the return of the jury, with the calm face of a marble sphinx. But, though she suffered, no appearances of suffering were seen on her serene face. She never had believed in human nature, and now the girl whom she had rescued from comparative poverty and placed in opulence had wanted to kill her. M. Vandeloup, whom she admired and trusted, what black infamy he was guilty of—he had sworn most solemnly he never harmed Kitty, and yet he was the man who had ruined her. Madame Midas felt that the worst had come—Vandeloup false, Kitty a murderess, her husband vanished, and Selina dead. All the world was falling into ruins around her, and she remained alone amid the ruins with her enormous fortune, like a golden statue in a deserted temple. With clasped hands, aching heart, but impassive face, she sat waiting for the end.

The jury returned in about half an hour, and there was a dead silence as the foreman stood up to deliver the verdict.

The jury found as follows:—

That the deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, died on the 21st day of November, from the effects of poison, namely, conia, feloniously administered by one Katherine Marchurst, and the jury, on their oaths, say that the said Katherine Marchurst feloniously, wilfully, and maliciously did murder the said deceased.

That evening Kitty was arrested and lodged in the Melbourne Gaol, to await her trial on a charge of wilful murder.



CHAPTER XV

KISMET

Of two evils it is always best to choose the least, and as M. Vandeloup had to choose between the loss of his popularity or his liberty, he chose to lose the former instead of the latter. After all, as he argued to himself, Australia at large is a small portion of the world, and in America no one would know anything about his little escapade in connection with Kitty. He knew that he was in Gollipeck's power, and that unless he acceded to that gentleman's demand as to giving evidence he would be denounced to the authorities as an escaped convict from New Caledonia, and would be sent back there. Of course, his evidence could not but prove detrimental to himself, seeing how badly he had behaved to Kitty, but still as going through the ordeal meant liberty, he did so, and the result was as he had foreseen. Men, as a rule, are not very squeamish, and view each other's failings, especially towards women, with a lenient eye, but Vandeloup had gone too far, and the Bachelors' Club unanimously characterised his conduct as 'damned shady', so a letter was sent requesting M. Vandeloup to take his name off the books of the club. He immediately resigned, and wrote a polite letter to the secretary, which brought uneasy blushes to the cheek of that gentleman by its stinging remarks about his and his fellow clubmen's morality. He showed it to several of the members, but as they all had their little redeeming vices, they determined to take no notice, and so M. Vandeloup was left alone. Another thing which happened was that he was socially ostracised from society, and his table, which used to be piled up with invitations, soon became quite bare. Of course, he knew he could force Meddlechip to recognise him, but he did not choose to do so, as all his thoughts were fixed on America. He had plenty of money, and with a new name and a brand new character, Vandeloup thought he would prosper exceedingly well in the States. So he stayed at home, not caring to face the stony faces of friends who cut him, and waited for the trial of Kitty Marchurst, after which he intended to leave for Sydney at once, and take the next steamer to San Francisco. He did not mind waiting, but amused himself reading, smoking, and playing, and was quite independent of Melbourne society. Only two things worried him, and the first of these was the annoyance of Pierre Lemaire, who seemed to have divined his intention of going away, and haunted him day and night like an unquiet spirit. Whenever Vandeloup looked out, he saw the dumb man watching the house, and if he went for a walk, Pierre would slouch sullenly along behind him, as he had done in the early days. Vandeloup could have called in the aid of a policeman to rid himself of this annoyance, but the fact was he was afraid of offending Pierre, as he might be tempted to reveal what he knew, and the result would not be pleasant. So Gaston bore patiently with the disagreeable system of espionage the dumb man kept over him, and consoled himself with the idea that once he was on his way to America, it would not matter two straws whether Pierre told all he knew, or kept silent. The other thing which troubled the young man were the words Kitty had made use of in Mrs Villiers' drawing- room regarding the secret she said she knew. It made him uneasy, for he half guessed what it was, and thought she might tell it to someone out of revenge, and then there would be more troubles for him to get out of. Then, again, he argued that she was too fond of him ever to tell anything likely to injure him, even though he had put a rope round her neck. If he could have settled the whole affair by running away, he would have done so, but Gollipeck was still in Melbourne, and Gaston knew he could not leave the town without the terrible old man finding it out, and bringing him back. At last the torture of wondering how much Kitty knew was too much for him, and he determined to go to the Melbourne gaol and interview her. So he obtained an order from the authorities to see her, and prepared to start next morning. He sent the servant out for a hansom, and by the time it was at the door, M. Vandeloup, cool, calm, and well dressed, came down stairs pulling on his gloves. The first thing he saw when he got outside was Pierre waiting for him with his old hat pulled down over his eyes, and his look of sullen resignation. Gaston nodded coolly to him, and told the cabby he wanted to go to the Melbourne gaol, whereupon Pierre slouched forward as the young man was preparing to enter the cab, and laid his hand on his arm.

'Well,' said Vandeloup, in a quiet voice, in French, shaking off the dumb man's arm, 'what do you want?'

Pierre pointed to the cab, whereupon M. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders. 'Surely you don't want to come to the gaol with me,' he said, mockingly, 'you'll get there soon enough.'

The other nodded, and made a step towards the cab, but Vandeloup pushed him back.

'Curse the fool,' he muttered to himself, 'I'll have to humour him or he'll be making a scene—you can't come,' he added aloud, but Pierre still refused to go away.

This conversation or rather monologue, seeing M. Vandeloup was the only speaker, was carried on in French, so the cabman and the servant at the door were quite ignorant of its purport, but looked rather astonished at the conduct of the dirty tramp towards such an elegant-looking gentleman. Vandeloup saw this and therefore determined to end the scene.

'Well, well,' he said to Pierre in French, 'get in at once,' and then when the dumb man entered the cab, he explained to the cabman in English:—'This poor devil is a pensioner of mine, and as he wants to see a friend of his in gaol I'll take him with me.'

He stepped into the cab which drove off, the cabman rather astonished at the whole affair, but none the less contented himself with merely winking at the pretty servant girl who stood on the steps, whereupon she tossed her head and went inside.

As they drove along Vandeloup said nothing to Pierre, not that he did not want to, but he mistrusted the trap-door in the roof of the cab, which would permit the cabman to overhear everything. So they went along in silence, and when they arrived at the gaol Vandeloup told the cabman to wait for him, and walked towards the gaol.

'You are coming inside, I suppose,' he said, sharply, to Pierre, who still slouched alongside.

The dumb man nodded sullenly.

Vandeloup cursed Pierre in his innermost heart, but smiled blandly and agreed to let him enter with him. There was some difficulty with the warder at the door, as the permission to see the prisoner was only made out in the name of M. Vandeloup, but after some considerable trouble they succeeded in getting in.

'My faith!' observed Gaston, lightly, as they went along to the cell, conducted by a warder, 'it's almost as hard to get into gaol as to get out of it.'

The warder admitted them both to Kitty's cell, and left them alone with her. She was seated on the bed in the corner of the cell, in an attitude of deepest dejection. When they entered she looked up in a mechanical sort of manner, and Vandeloup could see how worn and pinched-looking her face was. Pierre went to one end of the cell and leaned against the wall in an indifferent manner, while Vandeloup stood right in front of the unhappy woman. Kitty arose when she saw him, and an expression of loathing passed over her haggard-looking face.

'Ah!' she said, bitterly, rejecting Vandeloup's preferred hand, 'so you have come to see your work; well, look around at these bare walls; see how thin and ugly I have grown; think of the crime with which I am charged, and surely even Gaston Vandeloup will be satisfied.'

The young man sneered.

'Still as good at acting as ever, I see,' he said, mockingly; 'cannot you even see a friend without going into these heroics?'

'Why have you come here?' she asked, drawing herself up to her full height.

'Because I am your friend,' he answered, coolly.

'My friend!' she echoed, scornfully, looking at him with contempt; 'you ruined my life a year ago, now you have endeavoured to fasten the guilt of murder on me, and yet you call yourself my friend; a good story, truly,' with a bitter laugh.

'I could not help giving the evidence I did,' replied Gaston, coolly, shrugging his shoulders; 'if you are innocent, what I say will not matter.'

'If I am innocent!' she said, looking at him steadily; 'you villain, you know I am innocent!'

'I know nothing of the sort.'

Then you believe I committed the crime?'

'I do.'

Kitty sat helplessly down on the bed, and passed her hand across her eyes.

'My God!' she muttered, 'I am going mad.'

'Not at all unlikely,' he replied, carelessly.

She looked vacantly round the cell, and caught sight of Pierre shrinking back into the shadow.

'Why did you bring your accomplice with you?' she said, looking at Gaston.

M. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.

'Really, my dear Bebe,' he said, lazily, 'I don't know why you should call him my accomplice, as I have committed no crime.'

'Have you not?' she said, rising to her feet, and bending towards him, 'think again.'

Vandeloup shook his head, with a smile.

'No, I do not think I have,' he answered, glancing keenly at her; 'I suppose you want me to be as black as yourself?'

'You coward!' she said, in a rage, turning on him, 'how dare you taunt me in this manner? it is not enough that you have ruined me, and imperilled my life, without jeering at me thus, you coward?'

'Bah!' retorted Vandeloup, cynically, brushing some dust off his coat, 'this is not the point; you insinuate that I committed a crime, perhaps you will tell me what kind of a crime?'

'Murder,' she replied, in a whisper.

'Oh, indeed,' sneered Gaston, coolly, though his lips twitched a little, 'the same style of crime as your own? and whose murder am I guilty of, pray?'

'Randolph Villiers.'

Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.

'Who can prove it?' he asked, contemptuously.

'I can!'

'You,' with a sneer, 'a murderess?'

'Who can prove I am a murderess?' she cried, wildly.

'I can,' he answered, with an ugly look; 'and I will if you don't keep a quiet tongue.'

'I will keep quiet no longer,' boldly rising and facing Vandeloup, with her hands clenched at her sides; 'I have tried to shield you faithfully through all your wickedness, but now that you accuse me of committing a crime, which accusation you know is false, I accuse you, Gaston Vandeloup, and your accomplice, yonder,' wheeling round and pointing to Pierre, who shrank away, 'of murdering Randolph Villiers, at the Black Hill, Ballarat, for the sake of a nugget of gold he carried.'

Vandeloup looked at her disdainfully.

'You are mad,' he said, in a cold voice; 'this is the raving of a lunatic; there is no proof of what you say; it was proved conclusively that myself and Pierre were asleep at our hotel while M. Villiers was with Jarper at two o'clock in the morning.'

'I know that was proved,' she retorted, 'and by some jugglery on your part; but, nevertheless, I saw you and him,' pointing again to Pierre, 'murder Villiers.'

'You saw it,' echoed Vandeloup, with a disbelieving smile; 'tell me how?'

'Ah!' she cried, making a step forward, 'you do not believe me, but I tell you it is true—yes, I know now who the two men were following Madame Midas as she drove away: one was her husband, who wished to rob her, and the other was Pierre, who, acting upon your instructions, was to get the gold from Villiers should he succeed in getting it from Madame. You left me a few minutes afterwards, but I, with my heart full of love—wretched woman that I was—followed you at a short distance, unwilling to lose sight of you even for a little time. I climbed down among the rocks and saw you seat yourself in a narrow part of the path. Curiosity then took the place of love, and I watched to see what you were going to do. Pierre— that wretch who cowers in the corner—came down the path and you spoke to him in French. What was said I did not know, but I guessed enough to know you meditated some crime. Then Villiers came down the path with the nugget in its box under his arm. I recognised the box as the one which Madame Midas had brought to our house. When Villiers came opposite you you spoke to him; he tried to pass on, and then Pierre sprang out from behind the rock and the two men struggled together, while you seized the box containing the gold, which Villiers had let fall, and watched the struggle. You saw that Villiers, animated by despair, was gradually gaining the victory over Pierre, and then you stepped in—yes; I saw you snatch Pierre's knife from the back of his waist and stab Villiers in the back. Then you put the knife into Pierre's hand, all bloody, as Villiers fell dead, and I fled away.'

She stopped, breathless with her recital, and Vandeloup, pale but composed, would have answered her, when a cry from Pierre startled them. He had come close to them, and was looking straight at Kitty.

'My God!' he cried; 'then I am innocent?'

'You!' shrieked Kitty, falling back on her bed; 'who are you?'

The man pulled his hat off and came a step nearer.

'I am Randolph Villiers!'

Kitty shrieked again and covered her face with her hands, while Vandeloup laughed in a mocking manner, though his pale face and quivering lip told that his mirth was assumed.

'Yes,' said Villiers, throwing his hat on the floor of the cell, 'it was Pierre Lemaire, and not I, who died. The struggle took place as you have described, but he,' pointing to Vandeloup, 'wishing to get rid of Pierre for reasons of his own stabbed him, and not me, in the back. He thrust the knife into my hand, and I, in my blind fury, thought that I had murdered the dumb man. I was afraid of being arrested for the murder, so, as suggested by Vandeloup, I changed clothes with the dead man and wrapped my own up in a bundle. We hid the body and the nugget in one of the old mining shafts and then came down to Ballarat. I was similar to Pierre in appearance, except that my chin was shaven. I went down to the Wattle Tree Hotel as Pierre after leaving my clothes outside the window of the bedroom which Vandeloup pointed out to me. Then he went to the theatre and told me to rejoin him there as Villiers. I got my own clothes into the room, dressed again as myself; then, locking the door, so that the people of the hotel might suppose that Pierre slept, I jumped out of the window of the bedroom and went to the theatre. There I played my part as you know, and while we were behind the scenes Mr Wopples asked me to put out the gas in his room. I did so, and took from his dressing-table a black beard, in order to disguise myself as Pierre till my beard had grown. We went to supper, and then I parted with Jarper at two o'clock in the morning, and went back to the hotel, where I climbed into the bedroom through the window and reassumed Pierre's dress for ever. It was by Vandeloup's advice I pretended to be drunk, as I could not go to the Pactolus, where my wife would have recognised me. Then I, as the supposed Pierre, was discharged, as you know. Vandeloup, aping friendship, drew the dead man's salary and bought clothes and a box for me. In the middle of one night I still disguised as Pierre, slipped out of the window, and went up to Black Hill, where I found the nugget and brought it down to my room at the Wattle Tree Hotel. Then Vandeloup brought in the box with my clothes, and we packed the nugget in it, together with the suit I had worn at the time of the murder. Following his instructions, I came down to Melbourne, and there disposed of the nugget—no need to ask how, as there are always people ready to do things of that sort for payment. When I was paid for the nugget, and I only got eight hundred pounds, the man who melted it down taking the rest, I had to give six hundred to Vandeloup, as I was in his power as I thought, and dare not refuse in case he should denounce me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire. And now I find that I have been innocent all the time, and he has been frightening me with a shadow. He, not I, was the murderer of Pierre Lemaire, and you can prove it.'

During all this recital, which Kitty listened to with staring eyes, Vandeloup had stood quite still, revolving in his own mind how he could escape from the position in which he found himself. When Villiers finished his recital he raised his head and looked defiantly at both his victims.

'Fate has placed the game in your hands,' he said coolly, while they stood and looked at him; 'but I'm not beaten yet, my friend. May I ask what you intend to do?'

'Prove my innocence,' said Villiers, boldly.

'Indeed!' sneered Gaston, 'at my expense, I presume.'

'Yes! I will denounce you as the murderer of Pierre Lemaire.'

'And I,' said Kitty, quickly, 'will prove Villiers' innocence.'

Vandeloup turned on her with all the lithe, cruel grace of a tiger.

'First you must prove your own innocence,' he said, in a low, fierce voice. 'Yes; if you can hang me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire, I can hang you for the murder of Selina Sprotts; yes, though I know you did not do it.'

'Ah!' said Kitty, quickly, springing forward, 'you know who committed the crime.'

'Yes,' replied Vandeloup, slowly, 'the man who committed the crime intended to murder Madame Midas, and he was the man who hated her and wished her dead—her husband.'

'I?' cried Villiers, starting forward, 'you lie.'

Vandeloup wheeled round quickly on him, and, getting close to him, spoke rapidly.

'No, I do not lie,' he said, in a concentrated voice of anger; 'you followed me up to the house of M. Meddlechip, and hid among the trees on the lawn to watch the house; you saw Bebe throw the bottle out, and picked it up; then you went to St Kilda and, climbing over the wall, committed the crime, as she,' pointing to Kitty, 'saw you do; I met you in the street near the house after you had committed it, and see,' plunging his hand into Villiers' pocket, 'here is the bottle which contained the poison,' and he held up to Kitty the bottle with the two red bands round it, which she had thrown away.