Guilty Bonds Part 23

With an effort he composed himself, pa.s.sing his hand wearily over his eyes. He appeared much changed. Inwardly deploring my forgetfulness, I drew my flask from my pocket and tendered him a pull, which he accepted with feverish energy.

"Ah! that puts new life into one!" he exclaimed, with a gasp.

His tone struck me as peculiar, and, regarding him attentively, it was plainly to be seen that he was in a very faint condition.

"This way," he continued, as, bracing himself up, he led the way up the court.

"Here--here was where I found her, murdered!"

"Who?" I asked, instantly.

"My wife."

The words were simple ones, and might have been spoken and heard a thousand times on any day; but at that time, and in those circ.u.mstances, they thrilled me indescribably. If those two words had been uttered by an enthusiastic lover to his bride for the first time, they could not have been more tenderly breathed.

Brushing aside all sentiment, however, I inquired, coldly, "When was this?"

"On the night of the fourth of March."

"What! that was the night after I returned from Russia!" I exclaimed, involuntarily. "And the seal. Was that found upon her?"

"It was. But hush! we may be overheard. Let us go in."

Filled with horror and amazement, I followed him up the tortuous stairs of a house in close proximity to the spot. After mounting several flights in utter darkness, we entered an attic--as it proved on striking a match--containing only the scantiest possible furniture. In one corner stood a bed, and by it a broken wicker-bottomed chair. An old box was placed near the broken fireplace rusted by damp, and that, with a few other articles, formed the whole contents of the miserable apartment.

He lighted the piece of candle which was upon the box, and after carefully closing the door, we sat down.

Scarcely had we done this, however, than he fell forward with a crash upon the bare floor, the blood at the same time gushing out afresh from the wound at the back of the head, and forming a small pool. Greatly to my relief he spoke almost immediately, although in such low tones as to be scarcely audible.

"It's useless to call for a.s.sistance, for the house is empty. Lay me on the bed, if you can, and I'll tell you all--everything."

"But you are hurt, and must be attended to," I said. There was a pang at my heart all the time, for, with my selfish desire to solve the mystery at once, this new wound meant fresh delay.

"If you leave me you will, on returning, find me dead. Lay me on the bed; keep quiet, and listen."

Those were the words he spoke, and strangely calm and composed they seemed. With a precipitation which I have never ceased to deplore, I lifted him as he desired, and gave up the idea of trying to obtain medical aid at that hour in a quarter unknown to me.

He was soon arranged as comfortably as possible. The spectacle he presented--spare, pale and gaunt, propped up on a squalid bed, the pillows all stained with blood--will never be erased from my memory.

At a sign from him I snuffed the cheap candle and drew closer to his side.

"A year ago on the fourth of next March," he commenced, speaking deliberately, but in a very weak voice, "my wife left me for a few hours. We were in utter poverty, for our little all had been stolen from us by my wife's brother-in-law. You may have guessed already that I was not always what I appear now. At one time--"

"But," I interrupted, "had you not better tell me why you have brought me here, before--"

"Before it is too late, eh? You're right. Well, my wife left me on a desperate errand. She went to ask for money from some one over whom she had a great hold--and--and she never came home."

He paused to gain breath. My heart beat violently as I noted the great effort he had to make for respiration.

"The man she went to see was--who?"

"Wait! By mere accident she knew his secret. One night, a long time ago, she told me that a gold mine had been opened to her. In the City, at a public-house where she had called, she met her sister Jane, who gave her a five-pound note. A few days afterwards Nell went to see some gentleman, and came home with a lot of money. She said she knew a secret out of which we both might make our fortunes. In the meantime Jane had disappeared. They were sisters, and so much alike that one could scarcely tell the difference. Open the box with this key, and give me the portrait you'll find there."

Chafing with impatience I did as he required and quickly found the picture.

The little photograph was of the ordinary cheap pattern, and presented the features of a rather attractive young woman.

"This," said my strange narrator, taking it in his trembling hand, "is my wife's picture, and it will do very well for Jane's. We saw little of her, as she moved about so much, sometimes in England and sometimes abroad."

"Really this does not throw much light on the occurrence," I remarked.

"What connects me with all this?"

"The fact that you witnessed the murder at Bedford Place," he replied.

"You have seen the man who killed Mrs Inglewood, and he also, I am certain, murdered my wife! You may well stare; but consider well, as I have done, and you will come to the same conclusion. When Nell left me she said, `Good-bye Ned; I know it's a dangerous errand I'm on, but don't fret.' It was dangerous--fatal. When I found she did not return I went out. It was dark, and a very few steps from my door I stumble on a drunken woman lying in a corner. When I looked closer my head reeled, and I nearly fainted--it was Nell! On her breast was the--the--"

"The seal!" I exclaimed.

He did not answer. Gradually his voice had become fainter, till it was only by placing my ear almost to his mouth that I caught the feebly-uttered syllables.

Putting the candle to his face I saw that his eyes were fixed on vacancy, while huge drops of dank perspiration stood upon the tightly-drawn skin of the forehead.

Evidently my mysterious acquaintance was dying rapidly. What was to be done?

The fatal secret was yet locked in his bosom.

Maddened with a feverish anxiety I emptied the brandy remaining in the flask down his throat, afterwards wiping his pallid face with my handkerchief.

My efforts for a time seemed in vain, but by degrees the breathing became more perceptible. Presently he opened his eyes.

"Thanks, thanks," he murmured, his hands clutching convulsively over mine with each respiration.

"Are you better now?" I asked.

He disregarded my question, and appeared to be endeavouring to recall his thoughts.

"Ah, yes, it was the seal that was on Nell,--yes, the seal, and I took it off. It's in the box, along with the portrait."

"And you wanted me--for what?" I said, inquiringly, for he seemed to be losing himself again.

"You? Who are you?"

The question fell with a terrible weight upon my ears--it was clear that the man's senses had fled.

"Frank Burgoyne is my name," was my reply. "You were going to tell me who it was your wife went to see, and why you wanted me."

"Wanted you? Ah, yes! I've seen you before--in Drury Lane. Nell showed you to me, for you gave evidence at the inquest. Yes, I've seen you!"

In a moment the remembrance of that mysterious encounter in Drury Lane came vividly back to me.