Much Darker Days Part 11

'Basil,' she whispered, 'don't you see the splendid, unequalled chance for an advertis.e.m.e.nt! I'll get up and make a speech, and say _I_ did it.

Of course they can't prove it, but it will set every one talking, and bring hundreds of pounds into the house every night.'

I now observed that Philippa had half slipped off her mantle and bonnet.

Beneath these coverings she was dressed in wig and gown, like Mrs.

Weldon in the photographs.

'For goodness' sake, Philippa, _don't!_' I whispered.

The clerk turned to William Evans, the prisoner at the Bar.

'Are you guilty, or not guilty?'

In the silence a cigarette-ash might have been heard to drop, if any one had been smoking.

The long silence was broken, but not by the prisoner.

By Philippa!

Rising to all her stately height, with her flowing robes around her, she stood at bay. Then her clear deep voice rang out:--

'My lord, I was the party that did it!'

'Order in the court! order in the court!' cried the ushers.

'I commit you! I commit you!' thundered Lord Justice Juggins. 'Take her away. Five years and hard labour.'

Struggling violently, Philippa was dragged away by the minions of the law.

I notice one visitor turn round, and gaze at the commotion.

It is Mrs. Thompson, the Bearded Woman.

Silence has scarcely been restored, when it is again broken.

A manly form rises. A deep voice exclaims:--

'My lord, the prisoner is innocent. _I_ am the person whom he is said to have murdered.'

The form, the voice--it is Sir Runan Errand!

Again I hear the sharp accents of Mr. Justice Juggins.

'Is this court a bear-garden or the House of Commons? Take that man out.

Give him five years and two dozen lashes.'

Scarcely had the court resumed its wonted aspect of business, scarcely had the prisoner again been asked to plead, when a shrill voice shattered the stillness.

'My lord, the key found in the prisoner's possession is my cellar-key.'

This time the bold interrupter was Mrs. Thompson, the Bearded Woman.

'Five years as usual, and hard labour,' said Sir Joshua Juggins, wearily. He was tiring of his task. 'Please, my lord, it warn't none of me,' came a hoa.r.s.e whisper from the prisoner at the bar.

'Who asked _you_ to speak? Is that the way to plead?' snapped the judge.

'Give him five years also, for contempt of court.'

William Evans was carried out in hysterics.

The plot, the mystery had thickened.

I now felt that there was only one way of fathoming the secret of the crime. I also must get myself committed! Then I would be able to rejoin the other actors in this strange drama, and learn their motives, and the real facts of the case.

In a moment my resolution was taken.

Springing to my feet, I exclaimed in clarion tones:--

'My lord, I am an accessory after the fact.'

Sir Joshua Juggins gave a cry of despair. Then mastering himself, he whispered:--

'Take that idiot away, and give him penal servitude for life.'

As I left the court in chains, I heard the next case being called.

CHAPTER XIII.--Cleared Up. (From The 'Green Park Gazette.')

THE legitimate public interest in the Nownham Mystery suggested to us the propriety of sending one of our young men down to interview all parties. After having visited the Maori King, Mrs. Weldon, several Eminent Advertisers, and the crew of the _Mignonette_, he felt that his present task was a light one. He had to see the murderer, William Evans; the murderess, Mrs. South, or Lady Errand; the accessory after the fact, Dr. South; the victim, Sir Runan Errand; and Mrs. Thompson, the owner of the key on which the case for the prosecution hinged.

His adventures in the various Asylums where those unhappy persons are unconfined have little public interest. We print the Confessions just as our young man took them down in shorthand from the lips of the sufferers.

_The Confession of_ Sir Runan Errand.

'I need not tell you that I never was even the husband of the woman Phllippa at all. She stood in no relation to me, except as one of the persons in the _troupe_ which I was foolish enough to manage. Instead of visiting her in January last to settle her pecuniary claims against me, I sent my valet. It appears that the man wore an old hat of mine, which he lost in the storm. That was not the only article of property belonging to me he carried off. I have since had a penitent letter from him. He is doing well in the United States, and has been elected to the Legislature. I have given up the freak of dabbling in the show business, and merely keep a private theatre at such a distance from human abodes that no one can complain of it as a nuisance. Since the disappearance of my valet I have been travelling in my own yacht. I reached England the day before the trial. 'No. I never read the newspapers. Thank goodness I am no bookworm.'

_The Confession of_ Philippa South, _calling herself_ Lady Errand.

'I tell you again, as I told you before, I know nothing about what I did that night. Go back to your employers.'

Nothing more of a nature suited to our columns could be extracted from this lady.

_The Confession of_ Mrs. Thompson.

'I lost my cellar key the night Philippa left my roof. I now recognise it as the key in the possession of William Evans. How he got it I have no idea whatever.'