CHAPTER XXIII

THE CONVICT'S DEFENCE

Shaking in the body and white in the face, Ferris looked upon the jewellery, which seemed positive evidence of his father's guilt, then flung himself back on the couch with a groan, his hand over his eyes to shut out the terrible sight--for terrible it was to him, the son of Marmaduke Dean. Edith also gazed fearfully upon the heap of gold and glittering stones, not doubting the truth of Gebb's story.

"Yes!" said the detective, raking the jewels together and replacing them in the bag. "In looking for Miss Gilmar's confession I found these in the room of Dean. They were hidden on the top of a tall press in a dark corner, and I felt, rather than saw them. The case against your father is clear enough, Mr. Ferris, although I was doubtful of it at first. Mrs. Grix can prove that he spent the night of the twenty-fourth of July away from the Hall. The ticket I found in Miss Gilmar's room shows that he must have been there, since no one but he could have possessed, in this especial instance, a ticket from Norminster to London. I'll have the evidence of the station-master and the ticket-clerk to prove his purchase of it shortly, and finally the possession of this jewellery places the matter beyond all doubt."

"There must be some mistake," said Edith, when she found her tongue, "for, although the evidence is against Mr. Dean, I can't believe him guilty. He is an old, broken-down man, timid and cowed. To plan and carry out so ingenious and remorseless a crime would need more spirit and determination than he is possessed of. Besides," she added, very reasonably, "If, as we all think, Mr. Dean is guiltless of Kirkstone's death, why should he kill Miss Gilmar?"

"That is rather an argument against than in favour of him," said Gebb, quietly. "If she condemned him unjustly, and bore false witness against him, as I truly believe she did, that very fact would make him all the more anxious to punish her for such perjury. What do you think, Mr. Ferris?"

"What can I think?" groaned the young man. "The evidence seems to prove my father's guilt. Still, on the face of it, I agree with Miss Wedderburn; he cannot be guilty. Innocent men have been hanged on evidence as conclusive; yet afterwards the truth has come to light. A judge and jury found him guilty of Kirkstone's murder, which we are now certain he did not commit, so it is possible that, despite the evidence to the contrary, he may be innocent of this second crime. Mr. Gebb!" added Ferris, entreatingly, "you know the whole of this matter, and are more experienced in such cases than Miss Wedderburn and myself. Tell us truly--Do you believe in my father's guilt?"

The detective hesitated, and, looking from one to the other, rubbed his chin in a perplexed manner. "I shall answer you honestly, Mr. Ferris," said he, after a pause. "I am not certain of your father's guilt. I said that the possession of this jewellery placed the matter beyond doubt; but against that I must place the fact--established by strong circumstantial evidence--that Miss Gilmar received her assassin as a friend. She was afraid of Dean, and even after the lapse of twenty years she must have recognized him. In place of giving him wine and cigarettes, her impulse would have been to cry out for help. Moreover, without knowing all about her visitor--presuming he was disguised--she would not have let him into her house. On the whole I am doubtful. The fact of the jewellery being found in his room proves his guilt; the fact that Miss Gilmar conversed with him as a friend shows his innocence. Who can decide the matter?"

"I know!" said Edith, suddenly--"Mr. Dean himself. You say that he is in Norminster gaol, Mr. Gebb. Well, that is only a mile from here, so let us all three go there and question Mr. Dean. With this evidence for and against him, he must either declare his innocence or admit his guilt."

"It is the most straightforward course," said Gebb, with a nod. "What do you say, Mr. Ferris?"

"I am content to abide by my father's word," replied Arthur, rising. "Anything is better than this uncertainty. Let us go to Norminster gaol."

"It's rather late," said Gebb, glancing at his watch. "However, I dare say we shall have no difficulty in seeing the prisoner. Come along!"

In the then tumble-down, deserted condition of Kirkstone Hall there was no vehicle obtainable, but the evening was pleasant and Norminster no great distance away, so the three walked briskly along the road in the cool, grey twilight. Conversing about the case made the way seem short, and they soon arrived in the little town and halted before the gates of the gaol. A word from Gebb procured them instant admittance, and they were shown into the presence of the Governor, a retired major, with a bluff manner and a twinkling eye, which was not unobservant of Edith's good looks.

"Well, sir," said Gebb, almost immediately, "and how is your prisoner?"

"Clothed and in his right mind!" replied the Governor. "He has given over his sulking and feigned madness, and evidently seems resolved to make the best of things. Indeed, I shouldn't be surprised, Mr. Gebb, if he intended to make you his father-confessor, for he has asked several times after you."

"Good!" said Gebb, rubbing his hands. "This looks like business; he has thrown up the sponge."

"Will you see him now?" asked the Governor, with a side glance at Edith.

"At once, if you please; and I wish this lady and gentleman to be admitted with me."

"Well, it is hardly regular to admit strangers at this hour, Mr. Gebb," said the Major. "Still, as you captured the man, and it is as well for you to hear his confession, if he wishes to make it, I am content to accede to your request. Have you any interest in the matter?" he asked, looking at Edith inquisitively.

"Yes, The man was hidden in my place under the name of Martin," she replied with a blush, not deeming it wise to further enlighten the Governor.

"Indeed. You are Miss Wedderburn, of the Hall? I thought so. Well, go along, all of you, but don't remain more than half an hour with the prisoner. I have to lock up for the night shortly; and I may be tempted to keep so fair a lady in my castle, you know."

Laughing at his own mild joke, the Governor gave his visitors over to the guidance of a warder; and they were soon ushered into a cell, where they found Dean sitting on his bed, chatting cheerfully with the man who watched him. He sprang up to receive them, and after the warder had exchanged a few words with the watcher, they both withdrew, leaving the lamp in the cell. Gebb was much gratified by this mark of the Governor's trust, and spoke to Dean with great complacency.

"I see you have come to your senses, Mr. Dean," he said civilly enough, but with point. "It is about time, I think."

"As you say, about time," replied Dean, who had been greeting Edith and his son. "I have given over fighting against the injustice of the world. I was condemned, an innocent man, some twenty years ago, and I escaped from my prison in the vain hope of getting Ellen Gilmar to prove my innocence; but she is dead, and I am again in the hands of--I won't say justice, but injustice."

"But why did you kill Miss Gilmar?" asked Gebb; for Ferris and Edith sat by quietly, letting him conduct the conversation, as the most capable person.

"I did not kill Miss Gilmar," replied Dean, firmly and sadly. "God knows who sent that wicked woman to her last account, but it was not I."

"Yet you uttered a threat against her."

"I did, in my first wrath at the injustice of my sentence; but nearly twenty years of imprisonment removed revenge from my heart I came down to Kirkstone Hall not to kill her, but to implore her to tell the truth, and free me from undeserved shame. But she had fled, thinking in her guilty mind that I intended to harm her. I told Miss Wedderburn that I did not, also Ar--I mean Mr. Ferris."

"You can call him Arthur," said Gebb, coolly. "I know that he is your son."

"Is this so?" asked Dean, looking with some surprise at Ferris.

"Yes, father. I told Mr. Gebb the truth, or, rather, I admitted it, as he had already learned my relationship to you from Prain. He knows everything, and we have come to ask you to right yourself in his eyes--to confess."

"Confess, Arthur! Do you believe that I killed Kirkstone?"

"No," said Arthur, with conviction, "I do not."

"And you, Edith," said Dean, looking at the girl, "is it your opinion that I am guilty of Miss Gilmar's death?"

"No," replied Edith, in her turn. "Appearances are against you, but I truly believe you to be guiltless."

"And so I am, for----"

"Before you go on," interrupted Gebb, looking up, "I think it will be best for you to approach this matter with more particularity. Were you not at Grangebury on the night of the twenty-fourth of July?"

"Yes," admitted Dean, promptly, "I was. I went to see Mr. Basson, who had been my counsel."

"About what?"

"About the confession of Miss Gilmar."

"What!" cried Gebb, in surprise. "You found it?"

"I found it on the twentieth of July, concealed in the Yellow Boudoir, where Ellen Gilmar had hidden it. I know now who killed Kirkstone."

"Miss Laura!" cried the detective, knowing Dean's belief.

"No. Miss Gilmar herself was the murderess."

"Well, I never!" said Gebb; and looked at Edith and her lover, who were not much astonished. "And where is the confession now?"

"Mr. Alder has it," was the unexpected reply.

"Alder! Why, he believes you to be guilty. He said so several times."

"I asked him to," replied Dean, quickly; "Mr. Alder has been a good friend to me all through."

"He has been a good friend to us all," said Edith, touching Arthur's hand. "Does Mr. Alder know who you are?"

"Yes. He had been present at my trial, you know, and, in spite of my altered appearance, he recognized me on one of his visits to the Hall. I begged him to keep my secret, and he did. I asked him to talk of me as guilty, so that I might be the more effectually concealed."

"I don't see how that would help you," interrupted Gebb, sharply.

"Why not? If Alder had gone about insisting that I was innocent, you might have suspected that he had seen me lately; while by stating what everybody believed, no questions would be asked."

"True enough," said Gebb, his brow clearing. "But I confess this disjointed information of yours puzzles me not a little. Suppose you tell us the whole story from the time you first masqueraded as Mad Martin."

"Certainly," assented Dean, readily. "I intended to do so, as I wish you to help me to establish my innocence. Also, I owe it to my son and Miss Wedderburn to relate things I formerly kept from them."

"We are all attention," said Edith, and leaned forward eagerly.

"When I was feigning madness at the Hall," said Dean, glancing at his three auditors, "I was wondering all the time how I could prove my innocence of Kirkstone's murder. One night, Mrs. Grix--who had found out my true name--told me that Miss Gilmar had written a confession of the crime; and--as she believed--had hidden it in the house. She gathered this from some words let fall by Miss Gilmar. Thenceforth it became the aim of my life to find that confession; but although I looked everywhere, I could not discover it. Then Mr. Alder came visiting at the Hall, as you know, Edith, and he guessed who I was. Feeling that I could not deceive him, I confessed that I was really Marmaduke Dean, and consulted him as to the possibility of proving my innocence. Alder scoffed at the idea of a confession being in existence, as he said if Miss Gilmar were guilty, she would not put the fact down in black and white. He advised me to consult Basson, who had been my counsel, and to see if I could not be cleared; but this I was afraid to do, lest Basson should hand me over to the police."

"Oh, he would never have done that," said Gebb, remembering the personality of Basson, "he is good nature itself."

"So Alder said," continued Dean. "Still I was too afraid to venture, and remained in hiding at the Hall, thankful that Alder kept my secret I must say that in every way he acted like a true friend, for he could easily have given warning about me to the authorities."

"I wonder he did not do so for Miss Gilmar's sake," said Gebb.

"Had he deemed me guilty he would have done so," cried Dean, quickly; "but I told him the whole facts of the case, and declared that Laura, being possessed of the knife, had killed her brother. Alder in the end said he believed in my innocence, but he declined to look upon Laura as the assassin. He fancied that Miss Gilmar had committed the crime, and to shield herself, and punish me for not being in love with her, she accused me. Still, he declined to believe that she had confessed her guilt in writing. I was certain, however, from what Mrs. Grix said, that she had, and----"

"This is all very well," interrupted Gebb, quickly, "but it does not explain your visit to Grangebury."