CHAPTER XXI.

THE EIGHT BELLS ENIGMA.

Although Fanks quite expected this revelation, he was, nevertheless, rather astonished at its unexpected confirmation. From that bicycle ride of Hersham's to Taxton-on-Thames to thwart his designs on Anne Colmer, Fanks had deduced certain suspicions; the hesitation of the journalist had confirmed those suspicions. Frankly speaking, he had no reason to connect Hersham with the negro; but he had been satisfied from the evidence of Simeon Wagg that Caesar--Dr. Binjoy's servant--had not been away from the Surrey village on that fatal night. Failing the real negro someone must have personated the black man; from the behaviour of Hersham, Fanks thought he might be the person in question. His random shot had hit the bull's-eye; it was quite an accident that it had done so.

"I expected as much," said Fanks, again restoring the photograph; to his pocket-book. "I told you, Garth, that I was right to trust to my instincts. This discovery explains the extraordinary conduct of Hersham."

"In what way?"

"I shall tell you later on. In the meantime let us hear what this man has to say."

He turned towards Berry Jawkins as he spoke, and waited for him to speak. The barman looked rather downcast, and when he did open his mouth it was to revert to the subject of the reward.

"I'm a poor man, gentlemen," he said, in a whining tone, "and I hope you mean fair about this thirty puns."

"We mean fair about the twenty pounds, man," said Vaud, sternly. "You heard what Mr. Fanks said."

"Oh, yes, I heard fast enough," retorted Berry Jawkins, "and I don't hold with him; the rewards added together make thirty puns."

"No doubt they do; but then the rewards are not to be added together," said Fanks. "You had better tell all you know, Mr. Berry Jawkins, or I'll look into the matter myself, and then you'll get no reward."

"Ah you'd go back on me. Well, d'y see, I shan't tell anything."

Fanks shrugged his shoulders. He had no desire to quarrel with the man or to waste time in arguing. The only way to induce speech from this obstinate creature was to pay him the money, which, after all, he had earned fairly enough. The detective therefore advised Herbert Vaud to fulfil the terms of the advertisement, which was accordingly done, and Mr. Jawkins found himself the richer by twenty pounds.

"Though it should have been thirty puns," said the obstinate creature; "but there ain't no chance of getting what's fair out of the aristocracy. I am a Radical, I am, and I goes----"

"We don't want to have your political opinions, man," said Fanks, sharply. "Come to the point."

"I'm coming to it," grumbled Berry Jawkins. "On the night of the twenty-first I was in the bar. Business was bad that evening, gentlemen, and there was not a blessed soul in the bar but myself. Just about eight o'clock I thought as how I might shut up, when the door opened and in came a black man. He said, 'I've left my bike outside: I want a drink of Scotch cold,' he ses. And, mind you, I twigged that he wasn't a nigger when he spoke, and I saw as he was a gent by the peculiar refinement of his jawing. But as it wasn't my business, I said nothing till he asked to wash his face. Then I told him to go round to the pump in the back yard, 'tho'' ses I, 'a gent like you will want hot water.' 'I ain't a gent,' ses he, 'I'm only a poor strolling Christy Minstrel,' he ses. Then I laughs, seein' as he was lying; but he scowls and bolts out to the back. When he comes back his face was white--as white as you or me--and he had a moustached like the feller in that photo. In fact, gents, he is the feller in that photo, as I can swear to in any court of law. Well, he comes back clean, and finishes his Scotch cold, and goes out. I thinks his manner queer-like, and goes to the door. He gets on his bike, and goes off down the road like a house on fire."

"Which way did he go? To London or down the country?"

"Oh, down the country, for sure, gents. Well, I didn't say anything about all this, for I thought as he might be a gent doing a bolt in disguise; but it wasn't any of my business to split, perticular as he had given me two shilling, just for fun like. But, all the same, I keeps my eye on the papers to see if there was anyone wanted. Then I comes to this Tooley Alley murder, and a description of the negro in a green coat and brass buttons. 'That's my man,' I ses, 'but hold hard, Berry Jawkins, and don't say nothing till you see as there is a reward.' So I waits and waits, till in this morning's paper I sees a reward of thirty puns----"

"Twenty pounds!"

"Very well, gents all, we'll say twenty, tho' to my mind it ought to be another tenner. But, as I ses, I sees this reward, and comes up to get it. I have got it," said Jawkins, slapping his pocket, "tho' not the amount I did expect; now, having told all, I goes, hoping you'll catch that black-white nigger and hang him, for I think he is a aristocrat, and I hates them, they being my natural enemies."

Having heard this history, Fanks let Berry Jawkins go, as there was no reason why he should be detained. First, however, he found out that Mr. Jawkins was always to be heard of at the Eight Bells in his capacity of barman. The man having left the room, Fanks turned towards Garth and Herbert to see what they thought of the revelation which had been so unexpectedly made. They returned his gaze, and Garth was the first to break the silence.

"Well," he said, in a low tone, "so Hersham is the culprit after all?"

"Pardon me, Garth; but I do not think that we have proved that yet. What do you say, Mr. Vaud?"

"I can say nothing," replied Herbert, coldly. "I have no opinion in the matter. As my father is absent I am attending to the case by his desire; but, personally speaking, I would not lift one finger to discover the assassin--or rather, the punisher of Gregory Fellenger."

"You hated him then?" said Fanks, quietly.

"I hated him; I still hate him; even though he is dead. You wonder at my speaking in this way, Mr. Fanks, but--"

"No!" replied Fanks, with a certain pity in his tone. "I do not wonder; your father told Mr. Garth here the story of Emma Calvert; and Mr. Garth repeated it to me. I know you hate the very memory of that dead scoundrel."

"Can you wonder at it?" said Herbert again. "I loved her; she did not love but she might have grown to do so in time. But he came with his lies and money to drag her away from me. He married her certainly, but he drove her to suicide; and if he had not met with his death by this unknown hand, he would have had to reckon with me for his baseness."

"You would have killed him yourself, perhaps?"

Herbert Vaud opened and shut his hand convulsively. "I don't know what I should have done," he said in a thick voice. "But he is dead, so what does it matter. But if I had my way, the assassin of Gregory Fellenger should go free."

"He may go free after all," said Fanks, quietly, "we have not yet solved the problem of his death."

"We have proved that Hersham was disguised as the negro," said Garth, impetuously.

"We have proved that Hersham was disguised as _a_ negro," replied Fanks, making the correction with point, "but we have not proved that he was--that he is--the negro who killed your cousin in Tooley's Alley."

"If he did not, why was he blacked up on the very night the murder was committed. He must have had some reason for so masquerading."

"I have no doubt he had a reason; and I have no doubt that he will explain his reason to me when I see him. But, on the face of it, I do not think that he is the negro of Tooley's Alley."

"Why not?" said Garth, impatiently. "Look here, Fanks. The skein runs out as clean as a whistle. Hersham has a cross tattooed on his arm. The death of my cousin was caused by a similar cross being pricked on his arm. Hersham is engaged to Anne Colmer; you tell me that she is the sister of the girl, Emma Calvert, who committed suicide in Paris, as the victim of Sir Gregory. The envelope, making the appointment comes from Taxton-on-Thames; Anne Colmer comes from the same place; she lives there. Hersham was disguised as a negro on the very night of the murder--at the very time the murder was committed. What is more reasonable than to suppose that Hersham was inspired by Anne Colmer to kill the man who had deceived her sister. There, in a few words you have the motive of the crime; and the way in which it was carried out. Oh, there is no doubt in my mind that we have the real man at last. Were I you, I should arrest Hersham without delay."

"If you were in my place, you would do what I intend to do," said Fanks, quietly, "and take time to consider the matter. I admit that you have made a very strong case out against Hersham, but there is one important particular which you have overlooked."

"What is that?" asked Garth, "it seems to me that there is not a link missing."

"That comes of being too confident. Can you see the missing link, Mr. Vaud?"

The young lawyer reflected for a few moments in a composed and careless manner, then looked up, and professed his inability to amend the case as set out against Hersham. Fanks shrugged his shoulders at their lack of penetration, and explained his theory.

"The negro who was in Tooley's Alley had no moustache," he said, slowly, "as was proved by the evidence of Mrs. Boazoph. Hersham, on the contrary, both as negro and white man, had a moustache; as has been proved by the story of Berry Jawkins."

"It might have been a false moustache," said Garth, still sticking to his point.

"It was not a false moustache," retorted Fanks, shaking his head, "if Hersham intended a disguise he would have worn a beard. A moustache would disguise him little. But for the sake of argument, we will grant that the moustache was intended as a disguise. If so, why did he retain it when he washed the black off his face; or, if it was part of his disguise, why did he wear it both as the black and the white man. No, no. I am sure that Hersham wore his own moustache; and not a false one. And again," added Fanks, with an afterthought, "I saw Hersham shortly after the murder--within two or three days in fact--he then wore a heavy moustache; and you can trust me when I say it was not a false one. If then Hersham was the Tooley Alley negro, who we have agreed committed the murder, how did he manage to grow his moustache in so short a period. The thing is impossible," finished the detective, "that one point alone assures me that Hersham is guiltless of the crime."

"Mrs. Boazoph may have made a mistake," suggested Garth, "remember she did not see the negro go out."

"She saw him go in, however. Mrs. Boazoph is too clever a woman to make a mistake of that sort. The black man who committed the murder had no moustache; our friend, masquerading as a Christy Minstrel, had one. Against the evidence of Mrs. Boazoph we can place the evidence of Berry Jawkins; the one contradicts the other; and both evidences conclusively prove that Hersham had no hand in the commission of the mysterious tragedy."

"And another thing," said Herbert, suddenly. "Mr. Garth couples the fact of the murder with the name of Miss Colmer. As a friend of the family, I protest against that. I know Mrs. Colmer, I know her daughter; and I am certain that neither of these unfortunate people have anything to do with the death of that scoundrel."

"Nevertheless the envelope which contained the appointment of the Red Star in Tooley's Alley as the rendezvous bore the Taxton-on-Thames postmark. Mrs. Colmer and her daughter live at Taxton-on-Thames."

"What of that? Sir Louis Fellenger and his medical friend lived at the same place. You might as well say that the new baronet committed the crime so as to succeed to the title and estates. The one theory is as feasible as the other."

"Very true," said Fanks, in a desponding tone; "I am as much in the dark as ever. At the present moment we can build up a theory on anything. For instance, I might say that our friend Garth here killed his cousin."

"The deuce!" cried Garth, aghast.

"You are startled," said Fanks, keenly watching the effect of his speech on the young man. "I don't wonder at it. I merely say this to show how slow you should be in condemning Hersham."

"But I don't see how you could bring me in," stammered Garth.

"It is easy enough. You are the heir, failing Sir Louis; you know the purport of that tattooed cross. You might have killed your cousin, and have sent the appointment from Taxton-on-Thames to implicate Sir Louis in the matter, and so have removed the two people between you and the title at one sweep."

"But I don't want the title."

"Possibly not; but you want money. But do not look so afraid, Garth. I don't think you committed the crime; you are no doubt as innocent as Mr. Herbert here."

"If I had committed the crime I should not deny it," said Herbert, gloomily. "I should glory in causing the death of such a scoundrel. If Fellenger had not been killed by the negro in Tooley's Alley, Mr. Fanks, you might have had to arrest me as the cause of his death. As it is, my revenge has been taken out of my hands. But the same end has been arrived at. I am glad the blackguard is dead."

Here the argument ended, and Fanks went out arm in arm with Garth. Both of them were sorry for the unhappy Herbert Vaud, and both of them were more puzzled than ever over the case. As yet all evidence had failed to throw the least gleam of light on the subject.