‘Oh, yes! I quite believe he would think Julian guilty.’
‘Surely not if it were possible to think otherwise! He is, or rather was, a staunch friend to Mr Roy.’
‘So staunch that he tried to break off the match between us. Listen to me, sir. I have told no one before, but I tell you now. Mr Vincent is a villain. He pretended to be the friend of Julian, and yet he dared to make proposals to me – dishonourable proposals, for which I could have struck him. He, a married man, a pretended friend, wished me to leave Julian and fly with him.’
‘Surely you are mistaken, Miss Ford. Mr Vincent was most devoted to his wife.’
‘He did not care at all for his wife,’ she replied steadily. ‘He was in love with me. To save Julian annoyance I did not tell him the insults offered to me by Mr Vincent. Now that Julian is in trouble by an unfortunate mistake Mr Vincent is delighted.’
‘It is impossible. I assure you Vincent is very sorry to -’
‘You do not believe me,’ she said, interrupting. ‘Very well, I shall give you proof of the truth. Come to my brother’s rooms in Bloomsbury. I shall send for Mr Vincent, and if you are concealed you shall hear from his own lips how glad he is that my lover and his wife are removed from the path of his dishonourable passion.’
‘I will come, Miss Ford, but I think you are mistaken in Vincent.’
‘You shall see,’ she replied coldly. Then, with a sudden change of tone, ‘Is there no way of saving Julian? I am sure that he is innocent. Appearances are against him, but it was not he who committed the crime. Is there no way?’
Moved by her earnest appeal, I produced the green-stone idol, and told her all I had done in connection with it. She listened eagerly, and readily grasped at the hope thus held out to her of saving Roy. When in possession of all the facts she considered in silence for some two minutes. At the end of that time she drew down her veil and prepared to take her departure.
‘Come to my brother’s rooms in Alfred Place, near Tottenham Court Road,’ said she, holding out her hand. ‘I promise you that there you shall see Mr Vincent in his true character. Good-bye till Monday at three o’clock.’
From the colour in her face and the bright light in her eye, I guessed that she had some scheme in her head for the saving of Roy. I think myself clever, but after that interview at Alfred Place I declare I am but a fool compared to this woman. She put two and two together, ferreted out unguessed-of evidence, and finally produced the most wonderful result. When she left me at this moment the greenstone idol was in her pocket. With that she hoped to prove the innocence of her lover and the guilt of another person. It was the cleverest thing I ever saw in my life.
The inquest on the body of Mrs Vincent resulted in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. Then she was buried, and all London waited for the trial of Roy. He was brought up charged with the crime, reserved his defence, and in due course he was committed for trial. Meantime I called on Miss Ford at the appointed time, and found her alone.
‘Mr Vincent will be here shortly,’ she said calmly. ‘I see Julian is committed for trial.’
‘And he has reserved his defence.’
‘I shall defend him’ said she with a strange look in her face. ‘I am not afraid for him now. He saved my unhappy brother. I shall save him.’
‘Have you discovered anything?’
‘I have discovered a good deal. Hush! That is Mr Vincent,’ she added, as a cab drew up to the door. ‘Hide yourself behind this curtain and do not appear until I give you the signal.’
Wondering what she was about to do, I concealed myself as directed. The next moment Vincent was in the room, and then ensued one of the strangest of scenes. She received him coldly, and motioned him to a seat. Vincent was nervous, but she might have been of stone, so little emotion did she display.
‘I have sent for you, Mr Vincent,’ she said, ‘to ask for your help in releasing Julian.’
‘How can I help you?’ he answered in amazement – ‘willingly would I do so, but it is out of my power.’
‘I don’t think it is!’
‘I assure you, Clara,’ he began eagerly, when she cut him short.
‘Yes, call me Clara! Say that you love me! Lie, like all men, and yet refuse to do what I wish.’
‘I am not going to help Julian to marry you,’ declared he sullenly. ‘You know that I love you – I love you dearly, I wish to marry you -’
‘Is not that declaration rather soon after the death of your wife?’
‘My wife is gone, poor soul. Let her rest.’
‘Yet you loved her?’
‘I never loved her,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I love you! From the first moment I saw you I loved you. My wife is dead! Julian Roy is in prison on a charge of murdering her. With these obstacles removed there is no reason why we should not marry.’
‘If I marry you,’ she said slowly, ‘will you help Julian to refute this charge?’
‘I cannot! The evidence is too strong against him!’
‘You know that he is innocent, Mr Vincent.’
‘I do not! I believe that he murdered my wife.’
‘You believe that he murdered your wife,’ she reiterated, coming a step nearer and holding out the green-stone idol-’do you believe that he dropped this in the study when his hand struck the fatal blow?’
‘I don’t know!’ he said, cooly glancing at the idol. ‘I never saw it before.’
‘Think again, Mr Vincent – think again. Who was it that went to the Alhambra at eight o’clock with Dr Monson and met there the captain of a New Zealand steamer with whom he was acquainted?’
‘It was I,’ said Vincent defiantly, ‘and what of that?’
‘This!’ she said in a loud voice. ‘This captain gave you the green-stone idol at the Alhambra, and you placed it in your breastpocket. Shortly afterwards you followed to Brixton the man whose death you had plotted. You repaired to your house, killed your unhappy wife who received you in all innocence, took the balance of the money, hacked the desk, and then dropped by accident this idol which convicts you of the crime.’
During this speech she advanced step by step towards the wretched man, who, pale and anguished, retreated before her fury. He came right to my hiding-place, and almost fell into my arms. I had heard enough to convince me of his guilt, and the next moment I was struggling with him.
‘It is a lie! a lie!’ he said hoarsely, trying to escape.
‘It is true!’ said I, pinning him down. ‘From my soul I believe you to be guilty.’
During the fight his pocket-book fell on the floor and the papers therein were scattered. Miss Ford picked up one spotted with blood.
‘The proof!’ she said, holding it before us. ‘The proof that Julian spoke the truth. There is the letter written by you which authorized your unhappy wife to give him one hundred pounds.’
Vincent saw that all was against him and gave in without further struggles, like the craven he was.
‘Fate is too strong for me,’ he said, when I snapped the handcuffs on his wrists. ‘I admit the crime. It was for love of you that I did it. I hated my wife who was a drag on me, and I hated Roy who loved you. In one sweep I thought to rid myself of both. His application for that money put the chance into my hand. I went to Brixton, I found that my wife had given the money as directed, and then I killed her with the foil snatched from the wall. I smashed the desk and overturned the chair, to favour the idea of the robbery, and then I left the house. Driving to a higher station than Brixton, I caught a train and was speedily back at the Alhambra. Monson never suspected my absence, thinking I was in a different corner of the house. I had thus an alibi ready. Had it not been for that letter, which I was fool enough to keep, and that infernal idol that dropped out of my pocket, I should have hanged Roy and married you. As it turns out, the idol has betrayed me. And now, sir,’ he added, turning to me, ‘you had better take me to gaol.’