Books: Madame Midas
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Fergus Hume >> Madame Midas
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A. No, it must have been picked up by someone who was ignorant of
its contents.
Q. By your own showing, M. Vandeloup, Miss Marchurst had no poison
with her when she left Mr Meddlechip's house. How, then, could she
commit this crime?
A. She told me she still had some poison left; that she divided the
contents of the bottle she had taken from my desk, and that she
still had enough left at home to poison Mrs Villiers.
Q. Did she say she would poison Mrs Villiers?
A. Yes, sooner than see her married to me. (Sensation.)
Q. Do you believe she went away from you with the deliberate
intention of committing the crime.
A. I do.
M. Vandeloup then left the box amid great excitement, and Kilsip was
again examined. He deposed that he had searched Miss Marchurst's
room, and found half a bottle of extract of hemlock. The contents of
the bottle had been analysed, and were found identical with the
conia discovered in the stomach of the deceased.
Q. You say the bottle was half empty?
A. Rather more than that: three-quarters empty.
Q. Miss Marchurst told M. Vandeloup she had poured half the contents
of one bottle into the other. Would not this account for the bottle
being three-quarters empty?
A. Possibly; but if the first bottle was full, it is probable she
would halve the poison exactly; so if it had been untouched, it
ought to be half full.
Q. Then you think some of the contents of this bottle were used?
A. That is my opinion.
Vandeloup was recalled, and deposed that the bottle Kitty took from
his desk was quite full; and moreover, when the other bottle which
had been found in her room, was shown to him, he declared that it
was as nearly as possible the same size as the missing bottle. So
the inference drawn from this was that the bottle produced being
three-quarters empty, some of the poison had been used.
The question now arose that as the guilt of Miss Marchurst seemed so
certain, how was it that Selina Sprotts was poisoned instead of her
mistress; but this was settled by Madame Midas, who being recalled,
deposed that Kitty did not know Selina slept with her on that night,
and the curtains being drawn, could not possibly tell two people
were in the bed.
This was all the evidence obtainable, and the coroner now proceeded
to sum up.
The case, he said, was a most remarkable one, and it would be
necessary for the jury to consider very gravely all the evidence
laid before them in order to arrive at a proper conclusion before
giving their verdict. In the first place, it had been clearly proved
by the Government analyst that the deceased had died from effects of
conia, which was, as they had been told, the alkaloid of hemlock, a
well-known hedge plant which grows abundantly in most parts of Great
Britain. According to the evidence of Dr Chinston, the deceased had
died from serous apoplexy, and from all the post-mortem appearances
this was the case. But they must remember that it was almost
impossible to detect certain vegetable poisons, such as aconite and
atropia, without minute chemical analysis. They would remember a
case which startled London some years ago, in which the poisoner had
poisoned his brother-in-law by means of aconite, and it taxed all
the ingenuity and cleverness of experts to find the traces of poison
in the stomach of the deceased. In this case, however, thanks to Dr
Gollipeck, who had seen the similarity of the symptoms between the
post-mortem appearance of the stomach of Adele Blondet and the
present case, the usual tests for conia were applied, and as they
had been told by the Government analyst, the result was conia was
found. So they could be quite certain that the deceased had died of
poison--that poison being conia. The next thing for them to
consider was how the poison was administered. According to the
evidence of Miss Marchurst, some unknown person had been standing
outside the window and poured the poison into the glass on the
table. Mrs Villiers had stated that the window was open all night,
and from the position of the table near it--nothing would be easier
than for anyone to introduce the poison into the glass as asserted
by Miss Marchurst. On the other hand, the evidence of the detective
Kilsip went to show that no marks were visible as to anyone having
been at the window; and another thing which rendered Miss
Marchurst's story doubtful was the resemblance it had to a drama in
which she had frequently acted, called 'The Hidden Hand'. In the
last act of that drama poison was administered to one of the
characters in precisely the same manner, and though of course such a
thing might happen in real life, still in this case it was a highly
suspicious circumstance that a woman like Miss Marchurst, who had
frequently acted in the drama, should see the same thing actually
occur off the stage. Rejecting, then, as improbable the story of the
hidden hand, seeing that the evidence was strongly against it, the
next thing was to look into Miss Marchurst's past life and see if
she had any motive for committing the crime. Before doing so,
however, he would point out to them that Miss Marchurst was the only
person in the room when the crime was committed. The window in her
own room and one of the windows in Mrs Villiers' room were both
locked, and the open window had a table in front of it, so that
anyone entering would very probably knock it over, and thus awaken
the sleepers. On the other hand, no one could have entered in at the
door, because they would not have had time to escape before the
crime was discovered. So it was clearly shown that Miss Marchurst
must have been alone in the room when the crime was committed. Now
to look into her past life--it was certainly not a very creditable
one. M. Vandeloup had sworn that she had been his mistress for over
a year, and had taken the poison manufactured by himself out of his
private desk. Regarding M. Vandeloup's motives in preparing such a
poison he could say nothing. Of course, he probably did it by way of
experiment to find out if this colonial grown hemlock possessed the
same poisonous qualities as it did in the old world. It was a
careless thing of him, however, to leave it in his desk, where it
could be obtained, for all such dangerous matters should be kept
under lock and key. To go back, however, to Miss Marchurst. It had
been proved by M. Vandeloup that she was his mistress, and that they
quarrelled. She produced this poison, and said she would kill
herself. M. Vandeloup persuaded her to abandon the idea, and she
subsequently left him, taking the poison with her. She then went on
the stage, and subsequently left it in order to live with Mrs
Villiers as her companion. All this time she still had the poison,
and in order to prevent her losing it she put half of it into
another bottle. Now this looked very suspicious, as, if she had not
intended to use it she certainly would never have taken such trouble
over preserving it. She meets M. Vandeloup at a ball, and, hearing
that he is going to marry Mrs Villiers, she loses her head
completely, and threatens to poison herself. M. Vandeloup tries to
wrench the poison from her, whereupon she flings it into the garden.
This bottle has disappeared, and the presumption is that it was
picked up. But if the jury had any idea that the poison was
administered from the lost bottle, they might as well dismiss it
from their minds, as it was absurd to suppose such an improbable
thing could happen. In the first place no one but M. Vandeloup and
Miss Marchurst knew what the contents were, and in the second place
what motive could anyone who picked it up have in poisoning Mrs
Villiers, and why should they adopt such an extraordinary way of
doing it, as Miss Marchurst asserted they did? On the other hand,
Miss Marchurst tells M. Vandeloup that she still has some poison
left, and that she will kill Mrs Villiers sooner than see her
married to him. She declares to M. Vandeloup that she will kill her,
and leaves the house to go home with, apparently, all the intention
of doing so. She comes home filled with all the furious rage of a
jealous woman, and enters Mrs Villiers' room, and here the jury will
recall the evidence of Mrs Villiers, who said Miss Marchurst did not
know that the deceased was sleeping with her. So when Miss Marchurst
entered the room, she naturally thought that Mrs Villiers was by
herself, and would, as a matter of course, refrain from drawing the
curtains and looking into the bed, in case she should awaken her
proposed victim. There was a glass with drink on the table; she was
alone with Mrs Villiers, her heart filled with jealous rage against
a woman she thinks is her rival. Her own room is a few steps away--
what, then, was easier for her than to go to her own room, obtain
the poison, and put it into the glass? The jury will remember in the
evidence of Mr Kilsip, the bottle was three-quarters empty, which
argued some of it had been used. All the evidence against Miss
Marchurst was purely circumstantial, for if she committed the crime,
no human eye beheld her doing so. But the presumption of her having
done so, in order to get rid of a successful rival, was very strong,
and the weight of evidence was dead against her. The jury would,
therefore, deliver their verdict in accordance with the facts laid
before them.
The jury retired, and the court was very much excited. Everyone was
quite certain that Kitty was guilty, but there was a strong feeling
against M. Vandeloup as having been in some measure the cause,
though indirectly, of the crime. But that young gentleman, in
accordance with his usual foresight, had left the court and gone
straight home, as he had no wish to face a crowd of sullen faces,
and perhaps worse. Madame Midas sat still in the court awaiting the
return of the jury, with the calm face of a marble sphinx. But,
though she suffered, no appearances of suffering were seen on her
serene face. She never had believed in human nature, and now the
girl whom she had rescued from comparative poverty and placed in
opulence had wanted to kill her. M. Vandeloup, whom she admired and
trusted, what black infamy he was guilty of--he had sworn most
solemnly he never harmed Kitty, and yet he was the man who had
ruined her. Madame Midas felt that the worst had come--Vandeloup
false, Kitty a murderess, her husband vanished, and Selina dead. All
the world was falling into ruins around her, and she remained alone
amid the ruins with her enormous fortune, like a golden statue in a
deserted temple. With clasped hands, aching heart, but impassive
face, she sat waiting for the end.
The jury returned in about half an hour, and there was a dead
silence as the foreman stood up to deliver the verdict.
The jury found as follows:--
That the deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, died on the 21st day of
November, from the effects of poison, namely, conia, feloniously
administered by one Katherine Marchurst, and the jury, on their
oaths, say that the said Katherine Marchurst feloniously, wilfully,
and maliciously did murder the said deceased.
That evening Kitty was arrested and lodged in the Melbourne Gaol, to
await her trial on a charge of wilful murder.
CHAPTER XV
KISMET
Of two evils it is always best to choose the least, and as M.
Vandeloup had to choose between the loss of his popularity or his
liberty, he chose to lose the former instead of the latter. After
all, as he argued to himself, Australia at large is a small portion
of the world, and in America no one would know anything about his
little escapade in connection with Kitty. He knew that he was in
Gollipeck's power, and that unless he acceded to that gentleman's
demand as to giving evidence he would be denounced to the
authorities as an escaped convict from New Caledonia, and would be
sent back there. Of course, his evidence could not but prove
detrimental to himself, seeing how badly he had behaved to Kitty,
but still as going through the ordeal meant liberty, he did so, and
the result was as he had foreseen. Men, as a rule, are not very
squeamish, and view each other's failings, especially towards women,
with a lenient eye, but Vandeloup had gone too far, and the
Bachelors' Club unanimously characterised his conduct as 'damned
shady', so a letter was sent requesting M. Vandeloup to take his
name off the books of the club. He immediately resigned, and wrote a
polite letter to the secretary, which brought uneasy blushes to the
cheek of that gentleman by its stinging remarks about his and his
fellow clubmen's morality. He showed it to several of the members,
but as they all had their little redeeming vices, they determined to
take no notice, and so M. Vandeloup was left alone. Another thing
which happened was that he was socially ostracised from society, and
his table, which used to be piled up with invitations, soon became
quite bare. Of course, he knew he could force Meddlechip to
recognise him, but he did not choose to do so, as all his thoughts
were fixed on America. He had plenty of money, and with a new name
and a brand new character, Vandeloup thought he would prosper
exceedingly well in the States. So he stayed at home, not caring to
face the stony faces of friends who cut him, and waited for the
trial of Kitty Marchurst, after which he intended to leave for
Sydney at once, and take the next steamer to San Francisco. He did
not mind waiting, but amused himself reading, smoking, and playing,
and was quite independent of Melbourne society. Only two things
worried him, and the first of these was the annoyance of Pierre
Lemaire, who seemed to have divined his intention of going away, and
haunted him day and night like an unquiet spirit. Whenever Vandeloup
looked out, he saw the dumb man watching the house, and if he went
for a walk, Pierre would slouch sullenly along behind him, as he had
done in the early days. Vandeloup could have called in the aid of a
policeman to rid himself of this annoyance, but the fact was he was
afraid of offending Pierre, as he might be tempted to reveal what he
knew, and the result would not be pleasant. So Gaston bore patiently
with the disagreeable system of espionage the dumb man kept over
him, and consoled himself with the idea that once he was on his way
to America, it would not matter two straws whether Pierre told all
he knew, or kept silent. The other thing which troubled the young
man were the words Kitty had made use of in Mrs Villiers' drawing-
room regarding the secret she said she knew. It made him uneasy, for
he half guessed what it was, and thought she might tell it to
someone out of revenge, and then there would be more troubles for
him to get out of. Then, again, he argued that she was too fond of
him ever to tell anything likely to injure him, even though he had
put a rope round her neck. If he could have settled the whole affair
by running away, he would have done so, but Gollipeck was still in
Melbourne, and Gaston knew he could not leave the town without the
terrible old man finding it out, and bringing him back. At last the
torture of wondering how much Kitty knew was too much for him, and
he determined to go to the Melbourne gaol and interview her. So he
obtained an order from the authorities to see her, and prepared to
start next morning. He sent the servant out for a hansom, and by the
time it was at the door, M. Vandeloup, cool, calm, and well dressed,
came down stairs pulling on his gloves. The first thing he saw when
he got outside was Pierre waiting for him with his old hat pulled
down over his eyes, and his look of sullen resignation. Gaston
nodded coolly to him, and told the cabby he wanted to go to the
Melbourne gaol, whereupon Pierre slouched forward as the young man
was preparing to enter the cab, and laid his hand on his arm.
'Well,' said Vandeloup, in a quiet voice, in French, shaking off the
dumb man's arm, 'what do you want?'
Pierre pointed to the cab, whereupon M. Vandeloup shrugged his
shoulders. 'Surely you don't want to come to the gaol with me,' he
said, mockingly, 'you'll get there soon enough.'
The other nodded, and made a step towards the cab, but Vandeloup
pushed him back.
'Curse the fool,' he muttered to himself, 'I'll have to humour him
or he'll be making a scene--you can't come,' he added aloud, but
Pierre still refused to go away.
This conversation or rather monologue, seeing M. Vandeloup was the
only speaker, was carried on in French, so the cabman and the
servant at the door were quite ignorant of its purport, but looked
rather astonished at the conduct of the dirty tramp towards such an
elegant-looking gentleman. Vandeloup saw this and therefore
determined to end the scene.
'Well, well,' he said to Pierre in French, 'get in at once,' and
then when the dumb man entered the cab, he explained to the cabman
in English:--'This poor devil is a pensioner of mine, and as he
wants to see a friend of his in gaol I'll take him with me.'
He stepped into the cab which drove off, the cabman rather
astonished at the whole affair, but none the less contented himself
with merely winking at the pretty servant girl who stood on the
steps, whereupon she tossed her head and went inside.
As they drove along Vandeloup said nothing to Pierre, not that he
did not want to, but he mistrusted the trap-door in the roof of the
cab, which would permit the cabman to overhear everything. So they
went along in silence, and when they arrived at the gaol Vandeloup
told the cabman to wait for him, and walked towards the gaol.
'You are coming inside, I suppose,' he said, sharply, to Pierre, who
still slouched alongside.
The dumb man nodded sullenly.
Vandeloup cursed Pierre in his innermost heart, but smiled blandly
and agreed to let him enter with him. There was some difficulty with
the warder at the door, as the permission to see the prisoner was
only made out in the name of M. Vandeloup, but after some
considerable trouble they succeeded in getting in.
'My faith!' observed Gaston, lightly, as they went along to the
cell, conducted by a warder, 'it's almost as hard to get into gaol
as to get out of it.'
The warder admitted them both to Kitty's cell, and left them alone
with her. She was seated on the bed in the corner of the cell, in an
attitude of deepest dejection. When they entered she looked up in a
mechanical sort of manner, and Vandeloup could see how worn and
pinched-looking her face was. Pierre went to one end of the cell and
leaned against the wall in an indifferent manner, while Vandeloup
stood right in front of the unhappy woman. Kitty arose when she saw
him, and an expression of loathing passed over her haggard-looking
face.
'Ah!' she said, bitterly, rejecting Vandeloup's preferred hand, 'so
you have come to see your work; well, look around at these bare
walls; see how thin and ugly I have grown; think of the crime with
which I am charged, and surely even Gaston Vandeloup will be
satisfied.'
The young man sneered.
'Still as good at acting as ever, I see,' he said, mockingly;
'cannot you even see a friend without going into these heroics?'
'Why have you come here?' she asked, drawing herself up to her full
height.
'Because I am your friend,' he answered, coolly.
'My friend!' she echoed, scornfully, looking at him with contempt;
'you ruined my life a year ago, now you have endeavoured to fasten
the guilt of murder on me, and yet you call yourself my friend; a
good story, truly,' with a bitter laugh.
'I could not help giving the evidence I did,' replied Gaston,
coolly, shrugging his shoulders; 'if you are innocent, what I say
will not matter.'
'If I am innocent!' she said, looking at him steadily; 'you villain,
you know I am innocent!'
'I know nothing of the sort.'
Then you believe I committed the crime?'
'I do.'
Kitty sat helplessly down on the bed, and passed her hand across her
eyes.
'My God!' she muttered, 'I am going mad.'
'Not at all unlikely,' he replied, carelessly.
She looked vacantly round the cell, and caught sight of Pierre
shrinking back into the shadow.
'Why did you bring your accomplice with you?' she said, looking at
Gaston.
M. Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
'Really, my dear Bebe,' he said, lazily, 'I don't know why you
should call him my accomplice, as I have committed no crime.'
'Have you not?' she said, rising to her feet, and bending towards
him, 'think again.'
Vandeloup shook his head, with a smile.
'No, I do not think I have,' he answered, glancing keenly at her; 'I
suppose you want me to be as black as yourself?'
'You coward!' she said, in a rage, turning on him, 'how dare you
taunt me in this manner? it is not enough that you have ruined me,
and imperilled my life, without jeering at me thus, you coward?'
'Bah!' retorted Vandeloup, cynically, brushing some dust off his
coat, 'this is not the point; you insinuate that I committed a
crime, perhaps you will tell me what kind of a crime?'
'Murder,' she replied, in a whisper.
'Oh, indeed,' sneered Gaston, coolly, though his lips twitched a
little, 'the same style of crime as your own? and whose murder am I
guilty of, pray?'
'Randolph Villiers.'
Vandeloup shrugged his shoulders.
'Who can prove it?' he asked, contemptuously.
'I can!'
'You,' with a sneer, 'a murderess?'
'Who can prove I am a murderess?' she cried, wildly.
'I can,' he answered, with an ugly look; 'and I will if you don't
keep a quiet tongue.'
'I will keep quiet no longer,' boldly rising and facing Vandeloup,
with her hands clenched at her sides; 'I have tried to shield you
faithfully through all your wickedness, but now that you accuse me
of committing a crime, which accusation you know is false, I accuse
you, Gaston Vandeloup, and your accomplice, yonder,' wheeling round
and pointing to Pierre, who shrank away, 'of murdering Randolph
Villiers, at the Black Hill, Ballarat, for the sake of a nugget of
gold he carried.'
Vandeloup looked at her disdainfully.
'You are mad,' he said, in a cold voice; 'this is the raving of a
lunatic; there is no proof of what you say; it was proved
conclusively that myself and Pierre were asleep at our hotel while
M. Villiers was with Jarper at two o'clock in the morning.'
'I know that was proved,' she retorted, 'and by some jugglery on
your part; but, nevertheless, I saw you and him,' pointing again to
Pierre, 'murder Villiers.'
'You saw it,' echoed Vandeloup, with a disbelieving smile; 'tell me
how?'
'Ah!' she cried, making a step forward, 'you do not believe me, but
I tell you it is true--yes, I know now who the two men were
following Madame Midas as she drove away: one was her husband, who
wished to rob her, and the other was Pierre, who, acting upon your
instructions, was to get the gold from Villiers should he succeed in
getting it from Madame. You left me a few minutes afterwards, but I,
with my heart full of love--wretched woman that I was--followed you
at a short distance, unwilling to lose sight of you even for a
little time. I climbed down among the rocks and saw you seat
yourself in a narrow part of the path. Curiosity then took the place
of love, and I watched to see what you were going to do. Pierre--
that wretch who cowers in the corner--came down the path and you
spoke to him in French. What was said I did not know, but I guessed
enough to know you meditated some crime. Then Villiers came down the
path with the nugget in its box under his arm. I recognised the box
as the one which Madame Midas had brought to our house. When
Villiers came opposite you you spoke to him; he tried to pass on,
and then Pierre sprang out from behind the rock and the two men
struggled together, while you seized the box containing the gold,
which Villiers had let fall, and watched the struggle. You saw that
Villiers, animated by despair, was gradually gaining the victory
over Pierre, and then you stepped in--yes; I saw you snatch Pierre's
knife from the back of his waist and stab Villiers in the back. Then
you put the knife into Pierre's hand, all bloody, as Villiers fell
dead, and I fled away.'
She stopped, breathless with her recital, and Vandeloup, pale but
composed, would have answered her, when a cry from Pierre startled
them. He had come close to them, and was looking straight at Kitty.
'My God!' he cried; 'then I am innocent?'
'You!' shrieked Kitty, falling back on her bed; 'who are you?'
The man pulled his hat off and came a step nearer.
'I am Randolph Villiers!'
Kitty shrieked again and covered her face with her hands, while
Vandeloup laughed in a mocking manner, though his pale face and
quivering lip told that his mirth was assumed.
'Yes,' said Villiers, throwing his hat on the floor of the cell, 'it
was Pierre Lemaire, and not I, who died. The struggle took place as
you have described, but he,' pointing to Vandeloup, 'wishing to get
rid of Pierre for reasons of his own stabbed him, and not me, in the
back. He thrust the knife into my hand, and I, in my blind fury,
thought that I had murdered the dumb man. I was afraid of being
arrested for the murder, so, as suggested by Vandeloup, I changed
clothes with the dead man and wrapped my own up in a bundle. We hid
the body and the nugget in one of the old mining shafts and then
came down to Ballarat. I was similar to Pierre in appearance, except
that my chin was shaven. I went down to the Wattle Tree Hotel as
Pierre after leaving my clothes outside the window of the bedroom
which Vandeloup pointed out to me. Then he went to the theatre and
told me to rejoin him there as Villiers. I got my own clothes into
the room, dressed again as myself; then, locking the door, so that
the people of the hotel might suppose that Pierre slept, I jumped
out of the window of the bedroom and went to the theatre. There I
played my part as you know, and while we were behind the scenes Mr
Wopples asked me to put out the gas in his room. I did so, and took
from his dressing-table a black beard, in order to disguise myself
as Pierre till my beard had grown. We went to supper, and then I
parted with Jarper at two o'clock in the morning, and went back to
the hotel, where I climbed into the bedroom through the window and
reassumed Pierre's dress for ever. It was by Vandeloup's advice I
pretended to be drunk, as I could not go to the Pactolus, where my
wife would have recognised me. Then I, as the supposed Pierre, was
discharged, as you know. Vandeloup, aping friendship, drew the dead
man's salary and bought clothes and a box for me. In the middle of
one night I still disguised as Pierre, slipped out of the window,
and went up to Black Hill, where I found the nugget and brought it
down to my room at the Wattle Tree Hotel. Then Vandeloup brought in
the box with my clothes, and we packed the nugget in it, together
with the suit I had worn at the time of the murder. Following his
instructions, I came down to Melbourne, and there disposed of the
nugget--no need to ask how, as there are always people ready to do
things of that sort for payment. When I was paid for the nugget, and
I only got eight hundred pounds, the man who melted it down taking
the rest, I had to give six hundred to Vandeloup, as I was in his
power as I thought, and dare not refuse in case he should denounce
me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire. And now I find that I have been
innocent all the time, and he has been frightening me with a shadow.
He, not I, was the murderer of Pierre Lemaire, and you can prove
it.'
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