Books: Madame Midas
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Fergus Hume >> Madame Midas
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During all this recital, which Kitty listened to with staring eyes,
Vandeloup had stood quite still, revolving in his own mind how he
could escape from the position in which he found himself. When
Villiers finished his recital he raised his head and looked
defiantly at both his victims.
'Fate has placed the game in your hands,' he said coolly, while they
stood and looked at him; 'but I'm not beaten yet, my friend. May I
ask what you intend to do?'
'Prove my innocence,' said Villiers, boldly.
'Indeed!' sneered Gaston, 'at my expense, I presume.'
'Yes! I will denounce you as the murderer of Pierre Lemaire.'
'And I,' said Kitty, quickly, 'will prove Villiers' innocence.'
Vandeloup turned on her with all the lithe, cruel grace of a tiger.
'First you must prove your own innocence,' he said, in a low, fierce
voice. 'Yes; if you can hang me for the murder of Pierre Lemaire, I
can hang you for the murder of Selina Sprotts; yes, though I know
you did not do it.'
'Ah!' said Kitty, quickly, springing forward, 'you know who
committed the crime.'
'Yes,' replied Vandeloup, slowly, 'the man who committed the crime
intended to murder Madame Midas, and he was the man who hated her
and wished her dead--her husband.'
'I?' cried Villiers, starting forward, 'you lie.'
Vandeloup wheeled round quickly on him, and, getting close to him,
spoke rapidly.
'No, I do not lie,' he said, in a concentrated voice of anger; 'you
followed me up to the house of M. Meddlechip, and hid among the
trees on the lawn to watch the house; you saw Bebe throw the bottle
out, and picked it up; then you went to St Kilda and, climbing over
the wall, committed the crime, as she,' pointing to Kitty, 'saw you
do; I met you in the street near the house after you had committed
it, and see,' plunging his hand into Villiers' pocket, 'here is the
bottle which contained the poison,' and he held up to Kitty the
bottle with the two red bands round it, which she had thrown away.
'It is false!' cried Villiers, in despair, seeing that all the
evidence was against him.
'Prove it, then,' retorted Vandeloup, knocking at the door to summon
the warder. 'Save your own neck before you put mine in danger.'
The door opened, and the warder appeared. Kitty and Villiers gazed
horror-struck at one another, while Vandeloup, without another word,
rapidly left the cell. The warder beckoned to Villiers to come, and,
with a deep sigh, he obeyed.
'Where are you going?' asked Kitty, as he moved towards the door.
'Going?' he repeated, mechanically. 'I am going to see my wife.'
He left the cell, and when he got outside the gaol he saw the hansom
with Vandeloup in it driving rapidly away. Villiers looked at the
retreating vehicle in despair. 'My God,' he murmured, raising his
face to the blue sky with a frightful expression of despair; 'how am
I to escape the clutches of this devil?'
CHAPTER XVI
BE SURE THY SIN WILL FIND THEE OUT
Madame Midas was a remarkably plucky woman, but it needed all her
pluck and philosophy to bear up against the terrible calamities
which were befalling her. Her faith in human nature was completely
destroyed, and she knew that all the pleasure of doing good had gone
out of her life. The discovery of Kitty's baseness had wounded her
deeply, and she found it difficult to persuade herself that the girl
had not been the victim of circumstances. If Kitty had only trusted
her when she came to live with her all this misery and crime would
have been avoided, for she would have known Madame Midas would never
have married Vandeloup, and thus would have had no motive for
committing the crime. Regarding Vandeloup's pretensions to her hand,
Mrs Villiers laughed bitterly to herself. After the misery of her
early marriage it was not likely she was going to trust herself and
her second fortune again to a man's honour. She sighed as she
thought what her future life must be. She was wealthy, it was true,
but amid all her riches she would never be able to know the meaning
of friendship, for all who came near her now would have some motive
in doing so, and though Madame Midas was anxious to do good with her
wealth, yet she knew she could never expect gratitude in return. The
comedy of human life is admirable when one is a spectator; but ah!
the actors know they are acting, and have to mask their faces with
smiles, restrain the tears which they would fain let flow, and mouth
witty sayings with breaking hearts. Surely the most bitter of all
feelings is that cynical disbelief in human nature which is so
characteristic of our latest civilization.
Madame Midas, however, now that Melbourne was so hateful to her,
determined to leave it, and sent up to Mr Calton in order to confer
with him on the subject. Calton came down to St Kilda, and was shown
into the drawing-room where Mrs Villiers, calm and impenetrable
looking as ever, sat writing letters. She arose as the barrister
entered, and gave him her hand.
'It was kind of you to come so quickly,' she said, in her usual
quiet, self-contained manner; 'I wish to consult you on some matters
of importance.'
'I am at your service, Madame,' replied Calton, taking a seat, and
looking keenly at the marble face before him; 'I am glad to see you
looking so well, considering what you have gone through.'
Mrs Villiers let a shadowy smile flit across her face.
'They say the Red Indian becomes utterly indifferent to the torture
of his enemies after a certain time,' she answered, coldly; 'I think
it is the same with me. I have been deceived and disillusionized so
completely that I have grown utterly callous, and nothing now can
move me either to sorrow or joy.'
'A curious answer from a curious woman,' thought Calton, glancing at
her as she sat at the writing-table in her black dress with the
knots of violet ribbons upon it; 'what queer creatures experience
makes us.'
Madame Midas folded her hands loosely on the table, and looked
dreamily out of the open French window, and at the trellis covered
with creeping plants beyond, through which the sun was entering in
pencils of golden light. Life would have been so sweet to her if she
had only been content to be deceived like other people; but then she
was not of that kind. Faith with her was a religion, and when
religion is taken away, what remains?--nothing.
'I am going to England,' she said, abruptly, to Calton, rousing
herself out of these painful reflections.
'After the trial, I presume?' observed Calton, slowly.
'Yes,' she answered, hesitatingly; 'do you think they will--they
will--hang the girl?'
Calton shrugged his shoulders. 'I can't tell you,' he answered, with
a half smile; 'if she is found guilty--well--I think she will be
imprisoned for life.'
'Poor Kitty,' said Madame, sadly, 'it was an evil hour when you met
Vandeloup. What do you think of him?' she asked, suddenly.
'He's a scoundrel,' returned Calton, decisively; still, a clever
one, with a genius for intrigue; he should have lived in the times
of Borgian Rome, where his talents would have been appreciated; now
we have lost the art of polite murder.'
'Do you know,' said Mrs Villiers, musingly, leaning back in her
chair, 'I cannot help thinking Kitty is innocent of this crime.'
'She may be,' returned Calton, ambiguously, 'but the evidence seems
very strong against her.'
'Purely circumstantial,' interrupted Madame Midas, quickly.
'Purely circumstantial, as you say,' assented Calton; 'still, some
new facts may be discovered before the trial which may prove her to
be innocent. After the mystery which enveloped the death of Oliver
Whyte in the hansom cab murder I hesitate giving a decided answer,
in any case till everything has been thoroughly sifted; but, if not
Kitty Marchurst, whom do you suspect--Vandeloup?'
'No; he wanted to marry me, not to kill me.'
'Have you any enemy, then, who would do such a thing?'
'Yes; my husband.'
'But he is dead.'
'He disappeared,' corrected Madame, 'but it was never proved that he
was dead. He was a revengeful, wicked man, and if he could have
killed me, without hurting himself, he would,' and rising from her
seat she paced up and down the room slowly.
'I know your sad story,' said the barrister, 'and also how your
husband disappeared; but, to my mind, looking at all the
circumstances, you will not be troubled with him again.'
A sudden exclamation made him turn his head, and he saw Madame
Midas, white as death, staring at the open French window, on the
threshold of which was standing a man--medium height, black beard,
and a haggard, hunted look in his eyes.
'Who is this?' cried Calton, rising to his feet.
Madame Midas tottered, and caught at the mantelpiece for support.
'My husband,' she said, in a whisper.
'Alive?' said Calton, turning to the man at the window.
'I should rather think so,' said Villiers, insolently, advancing
into the room; 'I don't look like a dead man, do I?'
Madame Midas sprang forward and caught his wrist.
'So you have come back, murderer!' she hissed in his ear.
'What do you mean?' said her husband, wrenching his hand away.
'Mean?' she cried, vehemently; 'you know what I mean. You cut
yourself off entirely from me by your attempt on my life, and the
theft of the gold; you dare not have showed yourself in case you
received the reward of your crime; and so you worked in the dark
against me. I knew you were near, though I did not see you; and you
for a second time attempted my life.'
'I did not,' muttered Villiers, shrinking back from the indignant
blaze of her eyes. 'I can prove--'
'You can prove,' she burst out, contemptuously, drawing herself up
to her full height, 'Yes! you can prove anything with your cowardly
nature and lying tongue; but prove that you were not the man who
came in the dead of night and poisoned the drink waiting for me,
which was taken by my nurse. You can prove--yes, as God is my judge,
you shall prove it, in the prisoner's dock, e'er you go to the
gallows.'
During all this terrible speech, Villiers had crouched on the
ground, half terrified, while his wife towered over him, magnificent
in her anger. At the end, however, he recovered himself a little,
and began to bluster.
'Every man has a right to a hearing,' he said, defiantly, looking
from his wife to Calton; 'I can explain everything.'
Madame Midas pointed to a chair.
'I have no doubt you will prove black is white by your lying,' she
said, coldly, returning to her seat; 'I await this explanation.'
Thereupon Villiers sat down and told them the whole story of his
mysterious disappearance, and how he had been made a fool of by
Vandeloup. When he had ended, Calton, who had resumed his seat, and
listened to the recital with deep interest, stole a glance at Madame
Midas, but she looked as cold and impenetrable as ever.
'I understand, now, the reason of your disappearance,' she said,
coldly; 'but that is not the point. I want to know the reason you
tried to murder me a second time.'
'I did not,' returned Villiers, quietly, with a gesture of dissent.
'Then Selina Sprotts, since you are so particular,' retorted his
wife, with a sneer; 'but it was you who committed the crime.'
'Who says I did?' cried Villiers, standing up.
'No one,' put in Calton, looking at him sharply, 'but as you had a
grudge against your wife, it is natural for her to suspect you, at
the same time it is not necessary for you to criminate yourself.'
'I am not going to do so,' retorted Villiers; 'if you think I'd be
such a fool as to commit a crime and then trust myself to my wife's
tender mercies, you are very much mistaken. I am as innocent of the
murder as the poor girl who is in prison.'
'Then she is not guilty?' cried Mrs Villiers, rising.
'No,' returned Villiers, coldly, 'she is innocent.'
'Oh, indeed,' said Calton, quietly; 'then if you both are innocent,
who is the guilty person?'
Villiers was about to speak when another man entered the open
window. This was none other than Kilsip, who advanced eagerly to
Villiers.
'He has come in at the gate,' he said, quickly.
'Have you the warrant,' asked Villiers, as a sharp ring was heard at
the front door.
Kilsip nodded, and Villiers turned on his wife and Calton, who were
too much astonished to speak.
'You asked me who committed the crime,' he said, in a state of
suppressed excitement; 'look at that door,' pointing to the door
which led into the hall, 'and you will see the real murderer of
Selina Sprotts appear.'
Calton and Madame Midas turned simultaneously, and the seconds
seemed like hours as they waited with bated breath for the opening
of the fatal door. The same name was on their lips as they gazed
with intense expectation, and that name was--Gaston Vandeloup.
The noise of approaching footsteps, a rattle at the handle of the
door, and it was flung wide open as the servant announced--
'Mr Jarper.'
Yes, there he stood, meek, apologetic, and smiling--the fast-living
bank-clerk, the darling of society, and the secret assassin--Mr
Bartholomew Jarper.
He advanced smilingly into the room, when suddenly the smile died
away, and his face blanched as his eyes rested on Villiers. He made
a step backward as if to fly, but in a moment Kilsip was on him.
'I arrest you in the Queen's name for the murder of Selina Sprotts,'
and he slipped the handcuffs on his wrists.
The wretched young man fell down on the floor with an agonised
shriek.
'It's a lie--it's a lie,' he howled, beating his manacled hands on
the carpet, 'none can prove I did it.'
'What about Vandeloup?' said Villiers, looking at the writhing
figure at his feet, 'and this proof?' holding out the bottle with
the red bands.
Jarper looked up with an expression of abject fear on his white
face, then with a shriek fell back again in a swoon.
Kilsip went to the window and a policeman appeared in answer to his
call, then between them they lifted up the miserable wretch and took
him to a cab which was waiting, and were soon driving off up to the
station, from whence Jarper was taken to the Melbourne gaol.
Calton turned to Madame Midas and saw that she also had fainted and
was lying on the floor. He summoned the servants to attend to her,
then, making Villiers come with him, he went up to his office in
town in order to get the whole story of the discovery of the
murderer.
The papers were full of it next day, and Villiers' statement,
together with Jarper's confession, were published side by side. It
appeared that Jarper had been living very much above his income, and
in order to get money he had forged Mrs Villiers' name for several
large amounts. Afraid of being discovered, he was going to throw
himself on her mercy and confess all, which he would have done had
Madame Midas come to the Meddlechip's ball. But overhearing the
conversation between Kitty and Vandeloup in the conservatory, and
seeing the bottle flung out, he thought if he secured it he could
poison Madame Midas without suspicion and throw the guilt upon
Kitty. He secured the bottle immediately after Vandeloup took Kitty
back to the ball-room, and then went down to St Kilda to commit the
crime. He knew the house thoroughly as he had often been in it, and
saw that the window of Madame's room was open. He then put his
overcoat on the glass bottles on top of the wall and leapt inside,
clearing the bushes. He stole across the lawn and stepped over the
flower-bed, carefully avoiding making any marks. He had the bottle
of poison with him, but was apparently quite ignorant how he was to
introduce it into the house, but on looking through the parting of
the curtains he saw the glass with the drink on the table. Guessing
that Madame Midas was in bed and would probably drink during the
night, he put his hand through the curtains and poured all the
poison into the glass, then noiselessly withdrew. He jumped over the
wall again, put on his overcoat, and thought he was safe, when he
found M. Vandeloup was watching him and had seen him in all his
actions. Vandeloup, whose subtle brain immediately saw that if
Madame Midas was dead he could throw the blame on Kitty and thus get
rid of her without endangering himself, agreed to keep silent, but
made Jarper give up the bottle to him. When Jarper had gone
Vandeloup, a few yards further down, met Villiers, but supposed that
he had just come on the scene. Villiers, however, had been watching
the house all night, and had also been watching Meddlechip's. The
reason for this was he thought his wife was at the ball, and wanted
to speak to her. He had followed Kitty and Mrs Killer down to St
Kilda by hanging on to the back of the brougham, thinking the latter
was his wife. Finding his mistake, he hung round the house for about
an hour without any object, and was turning round the corner to go
home when he saw Jarper jump over the wall, and, being unseen in the
shadow, overheard the conversation and knew that Jarper had
committed the crime. He did not, however, dare to accuse Jarper of
murder, as he thought it was in Vandeloup's power to denounce him as
the assassin of Pierre Lemaire, so for his own safety kept quiet.
When he heard the truth from Kitty in the prison he would have
denounced the Frenchman at once as the real criminal, but was so
bewildered by the rapid manner in which Vandeloup made up a case
against him, and especially by the bottle being produced out of his
pocket--which bottle Vandeloup, of course, had in his hand all the
time--that he permitted him to escape. When he left the gaol,
however, he went straight to the police-office and told his story,
when a warrant was immediately granted for the arrest of Jarper.
Kilsip took the warrant and went down to St Kilda to Mrs Villiers'
house to see her before arresting Jarper; but, as before described,
Jarper came down to the house on business from the bank and was
arrested at once.
Of course, there was great excitement over the discovery of the real
murderer, especially as Jarper was so well known in Melbourne
society, but no one pitied him. In the days of his prosperity he had
been obsequious to his superiors and insolent to those beneath him,
so that all he gained was the contempt of one and the hate of the
other. Luckily, he had no relatives whom his crime would have
disgraced, and as he had not succeeded in getting rid of Madame
Midas, he intended to have run away to South America, and had forged
a cheque in her name for a large amount in order to supply himself
with funds. Unhappily, however, he had paid that fatal visit and had
been arrested, and since then had been in a state of abject fear,
begging and praying that his life might be spared. His crime,
however, had awakened such indignation that the law was allowed to
take its course, so early one wet cold morning Barty Jarper was
delivered into the hands of the hangman, and his mean, pitiful
little soul was launched into eternity.
Kitty was of course released, but overwhelmed with shame and agony
at all her past life having been laid bare, she did not go to see
Madame Midas, but disappeared amid the crowd, and tried to hide her
infamy from all, although, poor girl, she was more sinned against
than sinning.
Vandeloup, for whom a warrant was out for the murder of Lemaire, had
also disappeared, and was supposed to have gone to America.
Madame Midas suffered severely from the shocks she had undergone
with the discovery of everyone's baseness. She settled a certain
income on her husband, on condition she never was to see him again,
which offer he readily accepted, and having arranged all her affairs
in Australia, she left for England, hoping to find in travel some
alleviation, if not forgetfulness, of the sorrow of the past. A good
woman--a noble woman, yet one who went forth into the world broken-
hearted and friendless, with no belief in anyone and no pleasure in
life. She, however, was of too fine a nature ever to sink into the
base, cynical indifference of a misanthropic life, and the wealth
which she possessed was nobly used by her to alleviate the horrors
of poverty and to help those who needed help. Like Midas, the Greek
King, from whence her quaint name was derived, she had turned
everything she touched into gold, and though it brought her no
happiness, yet it was the cause of happiness to others; but she
would give all her wealth could she but once more regain that trust
in human nature which had been so cruelly betrayed.
EPILOGUE
THE WAGES OF SIN
Such a hot night as it was--not a breath of wind, and the moon, full
orbed, dull and yellow, hangs like a lamp in the dark blue sky. Low
down on the horizon are great masses of rain clouds, ragged and
angry-looking, and the whole firmament seems to weigh down on the
still earth, where everything is burnt and parched, the foliage of
the trees hanging limp and heavily, and the grass, yellow and sere,
mingling with the hot, white dust of the roads. Absolute stillness
everywhere down here by the Yarra Yarra, not even the river making a
noise as it sweeps swiftly down on its winding course between its
low mud banks. No bark of a dog or human voice breaks the stillness;
not even the sighing of the wind through the trees. And throughout
all this unearthly silence a nervous vitality predominates, for the
air is full of electricity, and the subtle force is permeating the
whole scene. A long trail of silver light lies on the dark surface
of the river rolling along, and here and there the current swirls
into sombre, cruel-looking pools--or froths, and foams in lines of
dirty white around the trunks of spectral-looking gum trees, which
stretch out their white, scarred branches over the waters.
Just a little way below the bridge which leads to the Botanical
Gardens, on the near side of the river, stands an old, dilapidated
bathing-house, with its long row of dressing-rooms, doorless and
damp-looking. A broad, irregular wooden platform is in front of
these, and slopes gradually down to the bank, from whence narrow,
crazy-looking steps, stretching the whole length of the platform, go
down beneath the sullen waters. And all this covered with black
mould and green slime, with whole armies of spiders weaving grey,
dusky webs in odd corners, and a broken-down fence on the left half
buried in bush rank grass--an evil-looking place even in the
daytime, and ten times more evil-looking and uncanny under the light
of the moon, which fills it with vague shadows. The rough, slimy
platform is deserted, and nothing is heard but the squeaking and
scampering of the water-rats, and every now and then the gurgling of
the river as it races past, as if it was laughing quietly in a
ghastly manner over the victims it had drowned.
Suddenly a black shadow comes gliding along the narrow path by the
river bank, and pauses a moment at the entrance to the platform.
Then it listens for a few minutes, and again hurries down to the
crazy-looking steps. The black shadow standing there, like the
genius of solitude, is a woman, and she has apparently come to add
herself to the list of the cruel-looking river's victims. Standing
there, with one hand on the rough rail, and staring with fascinated
eyes on the dull muddy water, she does not hear a step behind her.
The shadow of a man, who has apparently followed her, glides from
behind the bathing-shed, and stealing down to the woman on the verge
of the stream, lays a delicate white hand on her shoulder. She turns
with a startled cry, and Kitty Marchurst and Gaston Vandeloup are
looking into one another's eyes. Kitty's charming face is worn and
pallid, and the hand which clutches her shawl is trembling nervously
as she gazes at her old lover. There he stands, dressed in old black
clothes, worn and tattered looking, with his fair auburn hair all
tangled and matted; his chin covered with a short stubbly beard of
some weeks' growth, and his face gaunt and haggard-looking--the very
same appearance as he had when he landed in Australia. Then he
sought to preserve his liberty; now he is seeking to preserve his
life. They gaze at one another in a fascinated manner for a few
moments, and then Gaston removes his hand from the girl's shoulder
with a sardonic laugh, and she buries her face in her hands with a
stifled sob.
'So this is the end,' he said, pointing to the river, and fixing his
scintillating eyes on the girl; 'this is the end of our lives; for
you the river--for me the hangman.'
'God help me,' she moaned, piteously; 'what else is left to me but
the river?'
'Hope,' he said, in a low voice; 'you are young; you are beautiful;
you can yet enjoy life; but,' in a deliberate cruel manner, 'you
will not, for the river claims you as its victim.'
Something in his voice fills her with fear, and looking up she reads
death in his face, and sinking on her knees she holds out her
helpless hands with a pitying cry for life.
'Strange,' observed M. Vandeloup, with a touch of his old airy
manner; 'you come to commit suicide and are not afraid; I wish to
save you the trouble, and you are, my dear--you are illogical.'
'No! no!' she mutters, twisting her hands together, 'I do not want
to die; why do you wish to kill me?' lifting her wan face to his.
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