CHAPTER XII

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ON THE BRINK.

"Sir John Musgrave and Mr. Ormsby," announced Wicks.

Drelincourt advanced smilingly and took the baronet's proffered hand.

"I think I can guess the nature of the business which has brought you, Sir John; but in any case you are welcome," he said. "Ormsby, how are you?"

Sir John cleared his throat. "As I judge, then, you have heard of the singular freak--for at present I can look upon it as nothing more--of your secretary, or whatever he is, Roden Marsh?"

"Who gave himself up last night at Sunbridge as being the murderer of my ever to be lamented sister." This from Mr. Ormsby.

"I have been from home all morning, and the first I heard of the affair was half an hour ago. I was on the point of driving into Sunbridge when you were announced. But pray be seated."

"I am glad to have saved you the journey," remarked Sir John, as he sat down. "My--our--object in coming to see you is to ascertain whether you can throw any light on this most extraordinary business, for, to tell you the truth, we are at a loss to know what steps we ought to take next with the view of either proving or disproving Marsh's statement."

"And not feeling sure how the affair might turn out, nor what fresh light you might be able to throw on it, I ordered Draycot, the chief constable, to follow us, so as to be in readiness in case of emergency."

"That was really very thoughtful on your part, Ormsby."

"Hum--hum. Confound his sneering ways!" remarked Ormsby to himself, with a grunt.

"One thing, gentlemen, I may tell you," went on Drelincourt, "which is, that one of the first steps you will have to take will be to set Mr. Marsh at liberty."

"Then you are satisfied in your own mind," said Sir John, "that he is not really the criminal he seems so desirous of making himself out to be?"

"On that point I am fully satisfied."

"What, then, can be the fellow's motive for such an insane proceeding?" demanded Ormsby--reasonably enough. "Is he a madman, or merely a fool?"

"He is very far from being either one or the other."

"But this is such a terrible crime for any sane man to charge himself with?" interpolated Sir John.

"You say, Drelincourt, that one of our first steps must be to set him at liberty," resumed Ormsby. "Now, I don't see that at all. He has seen fit to charge himself with the commission of a most heinous offense, and has put a lot of people to no end of worry and bother; consequently it will rest with him to thoroughly disprove his words before being allowed to regain his liberty. If I had my way, I would treat such pestilent fellows to a month on the treadmill."

"It is possible that Mr. Drelincourt may be in a position to throw an unexpected light on the affair," remarked Sir John in his blandest tones.

"In that case, of course----"

"It will assume an altogether different complexion from the one it wears at present. That goes without saying." It was Drelincourt who completed the sentence.

He drummed on the table for a few seconds with his finger tips. Then he resumed:

"A few days ago an enlightened British jury declared the man Gumley to be guilty of murder because, having confessed to being a thief, they assumed that he must of necessity be the author of the greater crime. It was a verdict, my dear Ormsby, in which I have no doubt you fully concurred."

"I did concur in it, and most fully. Twenty years ago I avowed my belief in Gumley's guilt, a belief which the result of the recent trial has fully justified, for of course I attach no credence to the so called confession of this hair brained Roden Marsh. No, sir, you may rely upon it that Gumley is the real criminal, and I shall receive with much satisfaction the news that he has been hanged."

"And yet, I am afraid, my dear Ormsby, that for once your usual acumen has been at fault--a rare occurrence, I admit--seeing that I happen to be in a position to prove that yonder poor devil now lying under sentence of death had no more to do with the tragic end of my first wife than either of you."

"God bless my soul!" ejaculated Ormsby.

"Drelincourt, you astound me," exclaimed Sir John. "Are we really to understand that you are in a position to prove Gumley's innocence?"

"I think what I said was clearly to that effect."

"In that case, the question naturally follows: If you are prepared to prove Gumley's innocence, are you, further, in a position to bring the real criminal's guilt home to him?"

"I am."

Mr. Ormsby's lips moved, but no sound came from them.

"You astonish me more and more," responded Sir John. "It is a fortunate thing that Ormsby and I took it into our heads to call upon you."

"Had you not done so, I should have called upon you, Sir John, a little later in the day."

"With the view of conveying to me the same information that you have just now imparted?"

"With that view."

"Then you had made up your mind before seeing us today to reveal what you know?"

"Undoubtedly."

"Of course, our meeting here today is altogether informal and _ex officio_; still, if I gather your intention aright, you will be prepared at another time and place--say tomorrow, at Sunbridge court house--to substantiate on oath what you have just told us?"

"Most assuredly I shall."

"Perhaps you would prefer not to reveal the name of the real criminal till the whole affair can be officially investigated?"

Drelincourt did not answer for a moment or two. "Why wait till tomorrow?" he asked himself. "The time for further concealment is at an end." Then aloud: "Gentlemen, you see the real criminal, as you term him, before you!"

Both the others started to their feet, and stared at him with an amazement which for a little while bereft them of speech.

"God bless my soul!" gasped Ormsby at length, for the second time.

"You! Oh, Drelincourt!" exclaimed Sir John, in a voice broken by emotion.

"Yes, I, and I alone, am the man." He spoke in passionless, almost frigid tones, and as the words left his lips he, too, rose to his feet.

"Drelincourt, never in the whole course of my life have I been shocked as you have just shocked me," said the baronet. "I am utterly at a loss for words. I--I know not what to say." His agitation and distress were unmistakable.

"Then say nothing, Sir John, that will be the wisest course. Yes, I, and I alone, am the man," Drelincourt repeated. "But this I must add in self-justification--so far as such a deed is open to justification--that what I did was done when I could hardly be said to be answerable for my actions. From my youth I have been addicted to occasionally walking in my sleep, and it was in a fit of somnambulism that I killed my wife."

The baronet's face brightened. "Have you any witnesses to prove that such was the case?" he eagerly asked.

"Not one," replied Drelincourt, with a shrug. "As you may perhaps remember, my temporary quarters at the time were at a little shanty of mine called the Cot?" Sir John nodded assent. "On the fatal morning I rose in my sleep, dressed myself in my sleep, and, still asleep, I walked from the Cot to the Towers. But no eye saw me enter the house--which I did through a side door by means of my master key--no eye saw me do the deed, and no eye saw me quit the house after it was done."

"And no judge and jury would credit such a cock and bull story for one moment," broke in Ormsby, with a brutal laugh.

"For once, Ormsby, you and I are fully agreed," answered Drelincourt, with a thin smile. Then, turning again to the baronet: "And now, Sir John, I must ask you to allow me to have a quarter of an hour alone with my wife, after which I shall be entirely at your disposal."

"Does she--does Mrs. Drelincourt know of this?"

"With her the suspicion of such a thing is as far removed as Heaven is from hell."

"Poor lady! Poor unhappy lady!"

The words smote Drelincourt as an ice cold wind might have done. A shiver went through him from head to foot.

Ormsby could no longer contain himself. "So, then, we have got the truth at last!" he burst out, a dull gleam of vindictive malice lighting up his little white lashed eyes. "At last the foul mystery which shrouded my poor sister's fate is dispelled, and the man who, in cold blood--for I tell you plainly that I attach not the slightest credit to your sleep walking rigmarole--slew the innocent being he had sworn to love and cherish through life stands revealed to the world as the miscreant he really is!"

"Ormsby--for God's sake----" broke in Sir John.

But Ormsby went on without heeding him.

"For twenty years my sister's blood has cried aloud for vengeance, but, thank Heaven, it has not cried in vain! For twenty years the gallows has been waiting, and at length it shall be satisfied. The day you are hung, Drelincourt, shall be kept by me and mine as a holiday and festival, and so shall every anniversary of it be kept as long as I live."

Drelincourt fixed him with two glittering eyes, but did not speak. He was standing with his back to the center table, and resting both hands upon it. It was a favorite attitude of his.

Again Sir John felt compelled to protest.

"Ormsby, I will not listen to this sort of thing any longer. It is shameful--shameful!"

But the other had not done yet. He was determined to have his say out at every cost. The concentrated venom of years had at length found an outlet.

"Somnambulism, indeed!" he sneered. "Tell that to the marines. Now we can understand why, twenty years ago, you were so anxious that Gumley should go scot free, and why you lied about the locket; for I have no doubt it was a lie. Now----"

"Stop!" broke in Drelincourt, with uplifted right hand. "That is a point about which I have something to say. Knowing Gumley to be innocent of my wife's death, I did my best at the time to secure his acquittal; but bear in mind this--that had the verdict gone against him, I should most assuredly have given myself up then as I am giving myself up today. From the first I swore that, whatever else I might be guilty of, his death should not be laid to my charge. Sir John, a few moments, if you please."

Out of the library there opened a much smaller room, where most of Roden Marsh's work was done. Towards this Drelincourt now led the way.

"What can he have to say to Sir John that he doesn't want me to hear?" asked Ormsby of himself, as he stood staring after the others with a mingled expression of curiosity and distrust. "After all, what does it matter? It's enough for me that, of his own accord, Drelincourt has put the hangman's rope round his neck. Now that he has confessed, what a blind fool I feel myself to have been not to have suspected the truth long ago. A score of things occur to me, any one of which ought to have sufficed to give me an inkling of it. And yet, not even his wife has the ghost of a suspicion--or so he says! Then let me be the first to enlighten her! A score of years ago his hand stabbed my sister to the heart; but there are more ways of stabbing a person to the heart than one."

A slow, cruel smile crept over his face. He nodded his head twice, as if in approval of what he had decided upon. Then, seating himself at the writing table, and having sought for and found the requisite materials, for the next three or four minutes he wrote busily. When he had done, he inclosed what he had written in an envelope, addressed the latter, and rang the bell.

"Give this into Mrs. Drelincourt's own hands--and as soon as possible," he said to Wicks, as he handed him the letter.

"Ah-ha I my dear Drelincourt, that will serve to go part way in payment of the thousand and one sneers with which you have favored me at various times," he muttered, rubbing his hands gleefully as he rose from the table: "Let those laugh who win! The chance won't be given him of indulging in them much longer. No doubt he will favor the hangman with one of his most cynical smiles as that functionary adjusts the rope, and will say to him in those bland tones of his, which always seem to veil a sneer, 'My good friend, I hope you won't bungle this simple little affair.' The fellow has the cool effrontery of the Foul Fiend himself."

"You may rely upon me, Drelincourt. Everything shall be carried out as you wish." It was Sir John who was speaking, as the two men came back from the inner room.

Ormsby's face darkened. "If Sir John chooses to forget that this man is a criminal, I don't," he said to himself. Then, aloud: "Ahem! I presume you are now prepared, Sir John, to make out and sign a warrant for the committal of Mr. Drelincourt to Sunbridge jail, on the charge of which he has just admitted himself to be guilty!"

"I can't, Ormsby--I can't. I couldn't put pen to paper just now to save my life," replied the kind hearted baronet, whose distress at the position in which circumstances had placed him was self-evident. "Besides, where's the need for a warrant? Drelincourt is giving himself up voluntarily, and--and the charge against him can be taken down at the proper time and place."

"Just as you please, of course. Then, if you have no objection, I will ring for Draycot and give him the requisite instructions and have him carry them out now."

"Ormsby, one moment," said Drelincourt. "I have a few words to say to you on a topic which it is my wish never to have to refer to again. It is in reference to your sister's death. Seeing that I have never attempted to cozen my conscience by putting forward any plea of justification for what I did, other than that it was done while I was asleep, it is not likely that at this time of day I should care to urge anything in extenuation of it, either to you or to any one. Still, I think it well that you should be told, although to no one else will the fact ever pass my lips, that your sister won me for her husband by an act of treachery so base and heartless that I will spare you the pain of listening to any of its details. Believe me or not, as you please, but such is the simple truth. And now, Sir John, with your permission, I will say a few words to my wife, after which I shall be wholly at your disposal. I do not doubt but that you will allow me such a privilege."

He bowed gravely to both gentlemen, then turned and went. As he shut the door behind him and walked into the room a deep sigh welled up from his heart.

"And now for the bitterest ordeal of all!" he murmured under his breath.

"Our business here is at an end, and the sooner we get away the better," remarked Sir John to Ormsby.

"So say I. But it will be requisite to see Draycot for a minute before we go, as he must now take upon himself the responsibility of looking after Drelincourt. I suppose he will prefer being driven into Sunbridge in his brougham. Well, there's no harm in that. It's the last time he will ride in it."

Sir John was already at the door. As Ormsby followed him out, he said to himself, half aloud: "Thank Heaven that I have lived to see this day. At last, my poor Kitty, at last you are avenged!"

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