CHAPTER XXII.

MRS. BOAZOPH RECEIVES A SHOCK.

Shortly after the conversation at Lincoln's Inn Fields Fanks took his leave of Garth. He was rather weary of the lawyer's company, and, moreover, he found such a third person a hindrance to the free speech he wished to induce from those with whom he conversed. In his own heart he was perfectly satisfied that Garth was connected in no way with the crime, for the test which he applied in the office of Vaud and Vaud entirely satisfied him. Nevertheless, he was not so certain that Garth would not be pleased to learn that his cousin--the sole person who stood between him and the Fellenger estate--was implicated in the affair.

On these grounds he therefore excused himself to the barrister, and walked off by himself, intent on his own business. Garth, who was suffering from a bad attack of detective fever, was not over pleased at being thus dismissed; still he thought it best to obey his friend, and so he departed, to think over the aspect the case had now assumed. In fact, he intended to do a little detective business on his own account, and, if possible, he wished to surprise Fanks by an unexpected discovery. There were now three different people following three different lines of action with respect to the case, so it was to be hoped that one of them at least would run down the assassin of Sir Gregory Fellenger, unless indeed all failed on the principle that too many cooks spoil the broth.

On leaving the barrister, Fanks took his way towards Tooley's Alley. It was his intention to see Mrs. Boazoph and to try an experiment on that astute lady. From her demeanour Fanks believed that the landlady of the Red Star knew more about the case than she chose to confess, and that she was anxious to screen the man or woman who had done the deed. Of this belief he wished to make certain.

Mrs. Boazoph received the detective with her customary composure. She was quite prepared for his visit, as she knew that her connection with the case was too patent to escape his vigilant eye. Anticipating a trying conversation, she directed Fanks to be shown into her private sitting-room, and she braced herself up to confuse and baffle him.

No one would have guessed the landlady's thoughts from the amiable manner in which she received her almost declared enemy. She was positively genial in her conversation and demeanour, and Fanks augured ill from this.

"Well, Mrs. Boazoph," said he, mildly, "I suppose you are wondering what brings me here?"

"Indeed I am doing no such thing, Mr. Fanks. You came to find out what I know about this crime."

"I congratulate you on your perspicuity, Mrs. Boazoph. And what do you know about it?"

The woman raised her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders.

"I know nothing at all," she replied. "I gave my evidence at the inquest; you heard it."

"Well?"

"Well, there is nothing more to be said."

"I beg to differ with you, Mrs. Boazoph; there is a great deal more to be said."

"Not by me," said Mrs. Boazoph, obstinately, closing her mouth. "If you think that I am going to assist you to find out who killed this wretched man, you are very much mistaken."

"Strange," said Fanks, in a musing tone, meant to reach her ear, "the same thing was said in almost the same words by Anne Colmer."

"What do you know about Anne Colmer?"

"More than you can guess. For instance, I know that she is the niece of--Mrs. Bryant."

With a start, instantly repressed, she looked to him in a hard and fixed manner, a disbelieving smile on her lips. "Mrs. Bryant," she repeated, "and who is Mrs. Bryant?"

"If you don't know, I am sure I do not."

"Speak plainly. I hate epigrams."

"So do I. They are such a bar to intelligent conversation. Well, Mrs. Bryant is a lady of birth, who married beneath her. Mr. Bryant was a bully, a sot, a spendthrift, and he lost all his money by fast living. When he became poor, his friends--for strange to say, this unpleasant person had some friends--set him up in an hotel. He was ashamed to stick his own name over his door; so he cast about for another. Perhaps you can tell me what that other name was?"

"No."

"What a singularly obstinate person you are," said, Fanks, shaking his head. "Believe me, it is no use our wasting time in discussing facts. Be sensible, Mrs. Boazoph, and admit that you are Mrs. Bryant."

"No."

"Mrs. Bryant, the sister of Mrs. Colmer, of Taxton-on-Thames, dressmaker, and decayed gentlewoman."

"I don't know her; I never heard her name."

"Really!" said Fanks, with gentle pity, "then I must inquire of Mrs. Colmer, of Taxton-on-Thames, how is it that her sister, Mrs. Bryant, is the notorious Mrs. Boazoph, of London."

"You are a fiend!"

"And what is Mrs. Bryant, alias Boazoph?"

"She is a most unhappy woman; a woman rather to be pitied than blamed."

"Ah!" said Fanks, drawing a long breath of satisfaction. "So you admit your identity at last."

"I can do nothing else. I do not wish my poor sister to know that I am Mrs. Boazoph. She thinks that I live on the money left to me by my late husband; she does not know that I keep this hotel; that I am the woman who has been mentioned so often in the papers, in connection with thieves, rogues, and detectives. Yes. I admit that I am Mrs. Bryant, the sister of Mrs. Colmer. Who told you?"

"Your niece, Anne."

"She had no business to do so."

"Very probably; but she could not help herself. I forced her to speak; how, it does not matter; but I extracted the truth out of her, Mrs. Bryant."

"Call me Mrs. Boazoph," flashed out the woman, "and relieve me of your presence as speedily as possible. What do you wish to know?"

"I wish to know the agreement you made with Dr. Binjoy, regarding this crime."

"Who is Dr. Binjoy?"

"Come now, Mrs. Boazoph, do not let us have another argument. I have neither the time nor the patience to endure one, I assure you. I know more than you think; and I can force you to speak if I so choose. I would rather not choose, if it is all the same to you. Let us conduct this conversation pleasantly, if possible. You know that Dr. Binjoy is the same as Dr. Renshaw?"

"Indeed, I do not. How can you prove it?"

"Very easily. I followed Dr. Renshaw on his presumed journey to Bombay, and tracked him to Mere Hall at Bournemouth."

Mrs. Boazoph quailed, and shrank back. This man knew so much, that she did not know where she stood.

For the moment, she did not know what to do; but, unable to deny the identity of Renshaw with Binjoy, she admitted it.

"Good!" said Fanks, in a satisfied tone, "we are getting on. And the agreement you made with this man?"

"I made no agreement with him."

"Then why was he here on the night of the murder?"

"It was an accident. For some reason of his own, Dr. Binjoy, whom I met at Taxton-on-Thames, was in the habit of changing his name when in London. He usually stayed with Dr. Turnor, who is an old friend of his; and did his work when Turnor was absent. When I found out the murder, I sent for Dr. Turnor, he was away, and Dr. Binjoy came under his name of Renshaw. I was astonished to see him. I did not know that he was in town."

"Oh! Had you any reason to go to Mere Hall to see him?"

"Mere Hall!" stammered Mrs. Boazoph, "you saw me at Mere Hall?"

"I saw you with my own eyes; you cannot deny that."

"I have no wish to deny it," retorted Mrs. Boazoph, with asperity, "yes I was at Mere Hall. I went there to warn Binjoy against you."

"Indeed; and no doubt Binjoy assured you that he had baffled me by the pretended journey to Bombay."

"Yes, he said that."

"And did he say that he had sent his negro, Caesar, to Bombay, in his place?"

Mrs. Boazoph drew back and gasped, holding tightly on to the arms of her chair. "You know that?" she said, in alarm.

"I know that, and a great deal more," said Fanks, grimly. "In fact, I more than suspect that I know the assassin."

"Then you know that Caesar killed Sir Gregory?"

"You jump to conclusions, Mrs. Boazoph," said Fanks, noting the tone of relief in which she made this remark. "I do not know that Caesar killed Sir Gregory Fellenger. But I know that both you and Dr. Binjoy would like me to think so."

"Man! Man!" cried Mrs. Boazoph, with an hysterical laugh, "do you think that I had anything to do with this crime?"

"Why not; the man was killed in your house: you called in a doctor, who is the dearest friend of the present baronet; it was to Binjoy's interest that Sir Gregory should be got out of the way."

Again Mrs. Boazoph seemed relieved. "Then you suppose that Binjoy instructed Caesar to kill Sir Gregory?"

"No, I do not; Caesar had nothing to do with the commission of the crime."

"Then who was the black man who killed the baronet?"

"It was no black man."

"But it was," said. Mrs. Boazoph, angrily. "I saw him myself enter the room."

"You saw a white man disguised as a negro enter the room."

Mrs. Boazoph bounded to her feet. "What!" she cried, "do you mean to say that the black man was a disguised white man?"

"Yes, I do say so; although I daresay it is no news to you."

Mrs. Boazoph stamped her foot. "It is news to me, I tell you. I thought that Caesar killed Sir Gregory at the behest of Dr. Binjoy. When you entered the room I hoped to keep the fact from you; because I did not wish Binjoy to get into trouble. But you say that Caesar did not commit the crime, and so you have upset my ideas altogether. Now, Mr. Fanks, I tell you truly, that if this negro did not kill Sir Gregory, I do not know the name of the assassin."

Fanks looked puzzled. She evidently spoke in all good faith, and he could not but believe her. He wondered if she was right, and whether the negro of Dr. Binjoy had killed the baronet after all. "Did you recognise as Caesar the black man who came here on that night?" he asked.

"No; how could I? I never saw Caesar in my life. But I know that Binjoy had a negro servant; that he smuggled him off to Bombay; and that he was the friend of Sir Louis Fellenger. Therefore I thought this negro was the instrument Binjoy made use of to kill Sir Gregory."

"Do you know anything about a tattooed cross, Mrs. Boazoph?" asked Fanks, going on another tack.

The woman fell into her chair as pale as a sheet of paper. The mention of the tattooed cross had a most powerful effect on her mind, and she stared thunderstruck at the detective. Not a word could she utter for at least two minutes. When she spoke her voice was thick and unsteady. "What do you know of the tattooed cross?" she muttered.

"I know that Sir Gregory let this disguised man tattoo a cross on his left arm, and that the needle used was poisoned. Now, can you tell me why Sir Gregory let a cross be pricked on his arm?"

"No! no! I--I--can't tell you that."

"Does that mean that you won't tell me?"

"It--means that I--I--can't tell you," gasped Mrs. Boazoph. "I did not know Sir Gregory Fellenger."

"Do you know anyone else who has a cross tattooed on his left arm?" asked Fanks, preparing for his great stroke.

"No! Why do you ask me?" she muttered, in a terrified tone.

"Because the man who has that cross tattooed on his left arm was the disguised negro; he was the man who killed Sir Gregory."

"Ah Heavens! Oh, Edward Hersham?" moaned Mrs. Boazoph, and fell upon the floor in a faint.