CHAPTER XXII

A SECRET HOARD

On concluding the examination of Mrs. Grix--which lasted some time, owing to the inherent objection of that lady to speak the truth--Gebb spent the afternoon in searching the house for Miss Gilmar's confession. By this time he had quite adopted the opinion of Mrs. Grix regarding the guilt of the former housekeeper, and, on the same authority, he was certain that she had written out and hidden away an account of her crime. The question was, where was it concealed? For the house was so large and rambling, and dusty and dusky, that Gebb almost despaired of finding the paper. At first he thought it might be hidden in the Yellow Room. In that fatal apartment the crime had been committed, and, to keep her perpetually in mind of Dean's threat against her life, the wretched woman had lived during her concealment in a precisely similar apartment, decorated and furnished in the same manner; so, seeing that she had attached such importance to it, the probability was that she had hidden the paper within its precincts. But a strict examination of floor, walls, carpet, hangings, and furniture proved that the confession was not there. Gebb was disgusted at this result and turned his attention to the rest of the house.

In the few hours he had to himself he examined nearly every room in the place, not forgetting the sleeping apartments of Dean and Mrs. Grix, which were situated in the back part of the house. He made several discoveries of more or less importance, but the object of his search he failed to find. Towards five o'clock he gave up hunting for this needle in a haystack--for the search was quite as difficult and impossible--and repaired hot and dusty to Mrs. Grix. From the old woman he obtained water to wash in, and a brush for his clothes, and afterwards she supplied him with a cold supper and beer. Just as Gebb finished this, feeling very refreshed, he heard the sound of voices, and stepped on to the terrace to find that Ferris and Edith had arrived. They both looked pale and nervous, and the grim way in which the detective eyed them inspired neither with confidence.

"We are here, you see," said Ferris, as Edith seemed unwilling to speak, "but neither Miss Wedderburn nor myself can guess the reason of your very peremptory telegram."

"I think you know the reason very well," said Gebb, grimly, "else you would not be here. However, there is no need to talk secrets in the open, so if you will come with me to the Yellow Boudoir, we can speak more at our ease--and perhaps more openly," finished the detective, with a dry cough.

Edith looked at her lover in a quick, terrified manner, but judged it wiser to make no remark, and the two meekly followed Gebb into the Yellow Room. Here they sat down side by side on the primrose-hued couch, while Gebb, after glancing outside to see that Mrs. Grix was not listening, closed and locked the door. Then he drew a chair in front of the couch, and surveyed the pair in no very friendly manner.

"Well, Miss Wedderburn and Mr. Ferris," he said, with much displeasure, "It seems I have to find out things for myself."

"What things?" asked Edith, flushing; for, not knowing the extent of Gebb's knowledge, neither she nor Ferris was prepared to speak freely.

"Things which you know. Miss Wedderburn, and about which you could have informed me. If I had known then what I know now," added Gebb, with emphasis, "I might have had less trouble and more result in this murder case."

"I don't understand you," faltered Ferris, doubtfully.

"You may understand me better when I tell you that your father is in prison again."

"My father? Dean?"

"Yes, Dean or Martin--whichever you like to call him."

"Do you mean to say that Mad Martin, the gardener, is really Mr. Dean?" said Edith, making a final attempt to baffle Gebb.

"Yes, Miss Wedderburn, I do; and why should you or Mr. Ferris there pretend ignorance of what you know to be true? I recognized Dean myself from a description given by Parge. No one can mistake that mark between the eyes when he frowns--which mark, I see, Mr. Ferris has at this moment. And to make sure that Martin is Dean, I have the evidence of Mrs. Grix."

"Mrs. Grix! Has she told you----"

"She has told me everything," interrupted Gebb; "and Dean tried to punish her for talking. Then he ran away, and I chased him into Norminster, where he now lies in gaol."

"But he is mad!" said Ferris, eagerly.

"Who is mad?" demanded Gebb, turning on him. "Your father, or Martin the gardener?"

Ferris made a despairing gesture. "Since you know so much," he said in low tones, "I admit that the two are one and the same. Martin is really my father, Marmaduke Dean, who has been concealed here; but he is insane."

"He is nothing of the sort, Mr. Ferris. His insanity was feigned for the better baffling of the police. Neither you nor Miss Wedderburn can deceive me any longer. You have kept silence, you have told untruths, and altogether have given me endless trouble, but now I must insist upon your speaking out, both of you. This time I know so much that you cannot deceive me; and I'll force you to speak."

"Suppose we refuse?" cried Edith, indignant at this rough speech.

"If you do I'll arrest you both as accessories after the fact to the murder of Miss Gilmar. Ah, you look afraid! But I know--I know. Dean murdered that woman, and you are both aware of it."

"My father is innocent!" cried Arthur, with a groan.

"If he is, what was he doing at Grangebury on the evening of the murder? Why did he stay in London all night? What was his return ticket to Norminster doing in Miss Gilmar's room at Paradise Row? The man is guilty, I tell you. Defend him if you can. Tell the truth if you dare, and for once both of you act honourably and straightforwardly."

The detective spoke with much vehemence, and rising from his seat walked rapidly up and down the room. Much as Edith resented his language, yet she was conscious that in a great measure it was deserved. For this reason she restrained her passion and spoke frankly and to the purpose.

"Mr. Gebb," she said, and the detective paused to listen, "I do not deny that much you say is true. Neither myself nor Mr. Ferris have spoken so openly as we might have done. But you must not forget that we had much that was dangerous to ourselves to conceal. If we had told you about the necklace, you might have suspected us of the crime, and it was dread of such danger which kept us silent."

"I know that you are both innocent," said Gebb, coldly. "But about Dean?"

"We did not speak of Dean--of my father--for the same reason," struck in Arthur, earnestly. "He was imprisoned for a crime which he did not commit, and you would not have had me--his own son--betray him."

"Perhaps not; it is a hard thing to ask," responded the detective. "But now that I know so much, perhaps you will tell me more, and inform me how it was that your father came here, and when it was that you first recognized him."

"Certainly," replied Arthur, with a glance at Edith for permission to speak. "I heard almost immediately about my father's escape from prison, and, knowing his hatred for Miss Gilmar, I came to Kirkstone Hall, thinking he might go there to revenge himself. However, although he had not come, Miss Gilmar, with a guilty conscience, no doubt, took fright, and went to hide herself in London. On my first visit I met Miss Wedderburn, and afterwards I frequently came to see her. One day while I was here, an old man arrived and asked to see Miss Gilmar. I saw him, and so did Miss Wedderburn; and when he heard my name, and had examined me carefully, he saluted me as his son. At first I could scarcely believe that he was my father, as I had not seen him for close on twenty years, and was too young to retain much recollection of him. But he soon proved to me that he was Marmaduke Dean, and told us how he had escaped."

"Did he come to the Hall to kill Miss Gilmar?" asked Gebb, anxiously.

"No!" said Ferris, with emphasis. "That threat was uttered only in his mad passion. All he wanted from her was proof of his innocence."

"And I wrote to her about it," said Edith, taking up the tale; "but she was afraid of Mr. Dean, and swore that he killed Mr. Kirkstone."

"Though I am certain," interposed Arthur, "that she killed him herself, and accused my father because she was jealous of his love for Laura."

"That may be," said Gebb, nodding; "but proceed with your story."

"Let me tell the rest," cried Miss Wedderburn. "Mr. Dean was so broken down and ill with the life he had led in prison, that I suggested he should stay here and let me look after him. The police had been to the Hall, and not having found him there, had left. I did not think they would come again, so I believed that Mr. Dean would be quite safe. So he stayed for a day or so, until Mrs. Grix recognized him, but I bribed her with money to silence. She suggested that for safety Mr. Dean should pretend to be Martin--a gardener not quite right in his head, who had left the Hall after the tragedy. It was twenty years since he had gone, and Mr. Dean was much altered from his former self; so in the end he adopted the name of Martin, and pretended to be mad. So now you know, Mr. Gebb, when you saw me first, the reason why I was not afraid of his madness. You thought it real; I knew it to be feigned."

"Did every one round here think he was really Martin come back?"

"Yes. But he kept within the Hall grounds, and saw few people. These left him alone because of his madness. So there is the truth, Mr. Gebb."

"Not all the truth," said Gebb, significantly. "You have not told me how he killed Miss Gilmar."

"He did not kill her!" cried Ferris, furiously.

"He did!" insisted Gebb. "He was in Grangebury on the twenty-fourth of July."

"Impossible!" said Edith, much alarmed. "I did not know that. But even if he was," she went on, "it does not prove that he killed the woman."

"It's pretty good as circumstantial evidence," said Gebb, coolly; "but I have another and stronger proof. Look here," and out of his pocket the detective took a canvas bag, which, when opened, displayed bracelets rings, and diamond stars.

"Miss Gilmar's jewels!" cried Edith, recognizing them at once.

"Yes," said Gebb, "Miss Gilmar's jewels, which I found concealed in Dean's bedroom."