 CHAPTER FIFTY THREATENED RUIN If there was a dark mystery any longer it was confined to the corner house now. Heddy was not likely to see any more of Lytton Avenue. It was fortunate for her that Mamie was so much better in the morning, for as soon as the business of the day had commenced there was a rush of people to Lytton Avenue. They poured in thick and fast, till the law intervened in the person of a posse of officials who represented the Sheriff of London, and then Heddy was permitted to pack up her belongings and those of the child and depart. Gilbert Lawrence received them with open arms. Bruce was there, pleased enough to get Heddy from the house where she had suffered so much, but there was a white despairing look that caused Heddy to forget her own troubles. The white look did not even vanish when Heddy spoke of her previous night's adventure. It was part of a plot to ruin us both, Bruce said mootily. I should have been charged with criminal carelessness which is fatal to a doctor, and you would have been guilty of administering an overdose. That woman, we know who she was, changed the bottles once and would have changed them again, in fact that is why she returned the Countess. Oh no, cried Heddy, she never could have done that. Her own child, Bruce, fancy a mother sacrificing the life of her own child to gratify a vengeance. I could not think as badly of her as that. Bruce smiled wearily. Are you quite sure, he asked, that Mamie is her own child? Heddy had no reply for the moment, the idea had never occurred to her before. Certainly she had never looked upon the Countess as a model mother. Indeed she had never seen her display what might be called natural affection. We shall probably never know, she said after a pause, but as to your own trouble, Gordon. Dear Gordon, why don't you confide in me? The appeal in the thrilling tender voice touched him. He took the slim figure in his arms and kissed the red lips. It's ruin, he said simply, nothing else. A little time ago it looked to me as if all my ambitions were to be realized, and then this crushing misfortune comes upon me. My practice falls away, and I could not get my money in. Of course I can't done patients like mine. It didn't matter till lately, because the guineas I got from consultations were keeping me going, but these morning callers call no more. I was pressed here and there, and I borrowed money. Not from those people who advertise, Gordon. I'm afraid I was as foolish as that, Bruce said with a faint smile. That sort of people seem to know when one is under the weather, and there was one very plausible fellow who sent me a confidential letter. I fell into the trap, and if I can't find five hundred pounds tomorrow I am ruined. Yet he turned pale, but no word of reproach passed her lips. It was no time for that, and she knew by repute the kind of creditor that Gordon had. She merely asked the name of the obdurate creditor. I shall find some way out of it, she said. Now go back to your work, courage, dearest. She kissed him tenderly and pushed him from the room. Already she had made up her mind exactly what to do. Me must sit down and be good till tea time, after which she should go in the park and feed the swans. Half an hour later, and Hedy was calling upon Isaac Isidore to ask his advice. Isidore received his visitor warmly. He had taken a great fancy in his calm way, to the pretty plucky girl who had played so fine a part in the elucidation of a great mystery and a cruel wrong. He listened to what Hedy had to say. I thought you would find a way out, she suggested. Well so I can, Isidore smiled. I'm not going to offer to lend that young man money because that would wound his pride. Besides, there will be no occasion. Now can you let me know the name of Bruce's creditor? Hedy gave the desired information. There was a peculiar smile on the face of her companion. I fancy I can see my way to settle this business, he said. In my early days I saw a deal of the shady side of finance. As a lad I was in the office of one of the very worst of them. I know all about this fellow. He's going to climb down. He's going to take a reasonable rate of interest, and he is going to give your lover time. You can make your mind easy about that. And Isidore pulled at his cigar thoughtfully. He seemed so strong and confident that Hedy was strangely comforted. I thought I could rely upon you, she said gratefully. Mr. Isidore, you have taken a great load from my mind. Isidore finished his cigar, after which he took a frugal omnibus to the city, getting down in the neighborhood of Cheepside. He found himself presently in a dingy office off Ironmonger Lane, and face to face with a fat, oily man who recognized him with a mixture of admiration and apprehension. It's about that business of Dr. Gordon Bruce, Isidore said curtly. Now, my friend Wolfman, you know me and I know you. I don't want to ruin you body and bones, but I shall do so unless you listen to reason. You are going to write to Dr. Bruce and tell him the matter shall stand over for the present. But my principal gasped Wolfman, the lady who was paying me, to ruin Dr. Bruce, Isidore said, as coolly as if a great light had not suddenly broken in upon him. So your friend is in London? Wolfman wriggled uneasily. He wanted to lie badly, but with those eyes upon him he could not do so. She was yesterday, he stammered. Ah, then you must disemble with her, tell her any lie you like, so long as you let Dr. Bruce alone. I guess there was some scheme on hand when I heard that you had written to the doctor. Goodbye, Wolfman, and recollect that your ruin or otherwise depends upon yourself. Isidore went out smiling blandly. He had made a great discovery. The Countess again, he murmured. She's in this, as I thought, and so she is still in London after all. How interested Prout will be. Chapter 51 The Wolf is Unchained Prout was not surprised to receive the information that his quarry was still in London. Indeed he would have been astonished to know the contrary. Every port and every outgoing vessel had been carefully watched. Still the woman had accomplices somewhere. It was absurd to believe that in the simple guise of a maid she could have found a hiding place where she could be safe from the grip of the law. Find Balmain and you'll find her, Prout said. If we get on the track this week we shall catch her. If not she may get away. Vigilance is bound to be relaxed sooner or later. That is why delay is on the side of the prisoner. And if she does get away, Isidore asked? Then she will go to some of her earlier haunts on the Continent, said Prout. They always do. We can count upon that with absolute certainty. And you know all about her early haunts? Prout confessed that up to the present he had but the sketchiest idea of the past of the brilliant adventurous, who called herself Countess Lalage. He was just a little peaked that he should have been so easily gulled, especially as the case was exciting so ominous an amount of public attention. From all parts of the Continent stories were coming in telling of this and that swindled capitalist. The woman had flaunted for years with the money she had obtained by fraud. It was calculated that besides her debts she had got away with nearly a million of money. It seemed incredible but there it was and there it will be again so long as human cupidity and human greed exist. Maytrank was the only man who was silent over his losses. He had been a fool, but the money was gone and there was no reason why he should betray his folly allowed to the world. I think I'll go down to Holloway and see Rene Lalage, Prout said thoughtfully. I daresay I shall be able to advise him to tell me something as to the past of the Countess. If only he were not secure that woman would have to look to herself. He believes that the woman betrayed and murdered his brother and he is a Corsican. Give him a few hours' start and the law would be rid of Leona Lalage. In his cell at Holloway Rene Lalage was disposed to be communicative. He spat furiously. His dark eyes gleamed at the mention of the woman. She was bad, utterly bad from a child, he said. She was a distant connection of the family as a girl she set us all a flame with her beauty. She was the vainest and most cruel girl in the village. If she could rob another girl of her lover she was happy and happier still in flinging him aside after. She was delighted when she could breed a quarrel between two friends and get them to fight. Why she married Leon I cannot say, perhaps it was because he bullied her. But Leon was no saint and he drank and he got into jail and Leona left him. For a long time we did not hear what had become of her. Then I saw her in Paris at a circus. A little time later and she was mixed up in politics in Rome. But she got steadily on, living in a more luxurious way till I lost sight of her altogether. We heard afterwards that she had gone through a form of marriage with a great nobleman and that she was living in much splendour in England. But we know better. Leon and I had spent our little fortune long ago and sold the farm. After that we had to live by our wits, as you are aware, Senior Prout. Then we both drifted to England, neither of us knowing where the other was. I met Leon quite by accident. He said he had found his wife and that she seemed to be rolling in money. She managed to lure him to the corner house where she kept him prisoner, but he got some money from her and part of that he promised me. I never got it, as you know, and you can guess the reason why. Leon was in the way, he had to be got rid of. If it had to be murder, why that woman would never have hesitated, we shall find out that it was done some way. And if I ever get out of this I will track her day by day and hour by hour, I will lure her into some quiet place and then I shall plunge my knife into her as she plunged hers into my brother as he lay helpless. I tell you this, policemen as you are, because I am reckless and there is blood in my eyes. Once I am free my vengeance shall be complete. You may hang me, but you can't deprive me of that. He spoke furiously under his breath, with a vein standing out on his forehead. He seemed to have almost forgotten the presence of Prout. The next moment he was quiet and smiling again, but Prout was not deceived. Once that man was free he would never go back on his word. On the whole the interview produced nothing of importance, nor was Lawrence subsequently able to deduce anything from it. The fellow told you really nothing, he said thoughtfully, at least nothing that we can put to any practical use. He has his own vengeance to gratify, and therefore he is not in the least anxious to assist the law. He knew more than he would tell, said Prout. Of course he did. I shouldn't wonder if he knew where that woman is hiding. I am still of opinion that if you can find Balmain you can find the chief culprit. If you come to me to-morrow evening I may manage to hammer out something, but my brain is addled for the present. I have a theory of my own, but it sounds a little too cold at present. Prout dutifully returned the following evening, but Lawrence had nothing fresh to offer. He still clung to his new theory, but it was not sufficiently developed for practical use, and he didn't want to be laughed at, he said. I never laugh at your suggestions, Prout replied. Well, you're not going to have the chance over this now, said Lawrence. If I had my own way, what a row those newsboys are making. They were yelling in the street below, as they passed their raucous cries uproised, so that from the babble some sense could be made. The cornerhouse mystery, startling developments, Rene LaLage's escape from Holloway, a warder seriously injured, the culprit succeeds in getting clear away. CHAPTER 52 There was a sound of a faint scratching as if a mouse was working somewhere. The warder in the courtyard pronounced it to be a mouse and passed on. Then a figure almost invisible in the gloom crept along the top of the wall and dropped feet foremost into the street. It was nothing but luck that stood Rene LaLage in such good stead all along. A crumbling bit of plaster, some repairs going on in the gallery overhead, a ladder and a couple of gimlets left about by one of the carpenters engaged on the job. Well, he was free. He did not hesitate for a moment. He darted swiftly down the road with an air of a man who knows exactly what he is doing and where he wants to go. The man had not been convicted yet, therefore he had the advantage of wearing his own clothes. Using the tram-line was a bit of a risk, but LaLage took it. He wanted to be on familiar ground before his escape had been discovered. He had one object steadily in view and after that was done he cared nothing. He came at length to a dismal-looking road leaving off Waterloo Bridge. Before what seemed an empty house he paused and knocked. A feeble gleam filtered in the fan-light and the door opened. The man behind staggered back and muttered something that sounded like admiration. Rene LaLage stepped inside and shut the door. The others have not come yet, he said, coolly. I had arranged for the ceremony to take place without me. I was being detained elsewhere. But behold, I am here to take my vengeance in my own hands. When the others come they will be surprised to see their leader again, Beppo. The man addressed as Beppo nodded and grinned. There was nothing prepossessing about him. He looked the kind of man to avoid on a dark night. He led the way to a back room furnished only with a long table and a few chairs. Presently there was another knock at the door and four men came in. Picturesque cutthroat-looking ruffians that might have come straight from the stage of the Surrey Theatre. These men were pleased to call themselves conspirators but no patriotic business brought them here to-night. Evidently Rene LaLage passed as leader of them. They greeted him with shouts of approval and many strange manifestations of pleasure. One by one they produced tobacco and cigarette papers until the room was dim with smoke. You got my letter, Luigi? LaLage asked. The man addressed as Luigi nodded. Good! LaLage went on. That letter was written in jail. It looked so innocent that the people there passed it. They did not know that every letter had a meaning. It seemed all about my defense. You acted on that letter? I did, Luigi growled. I saw Antonio at once. It was not long before he was on the track. Your man will be here to-night. They smoked on for some little time idly. These men were prepared for most things but they preferred idleness and tobacco to anything else. It was only LaLage who was restless and uneasy. As the time passed he glanced impatiently at the door. Then there came another knock without. Beppo crept to the door. He came back presently followed by two men. The latter one was dressed in superior fashion to the rest. With a yell LaLage flew across the room and turned the key in the lock. Enter, Signor Luigi Balmain, he cried mockingly. Signor, I have the honour to wish you a very good evening. You are most welcome. Balmain promptly collapsed into the chair that Beppo had put for him. He glanced in a whitened, agitated way round the room. There was not a friendly face to be seen anywhere. Given immunity from protection and not one man there would have refused to cut his throat for a handful of coppers. There was no avenue of escape. The man's life was in danger and he knew it. With mocking politeness LaLage tendered him a cigarette. He pushed it aside. He could not have smoked for untold money. There was a great lump in his throat now, a wild beating of his heart. You know me, LaLage, that we have met before. It was you who betrayed me to the police at Ravenna. In the dock there I swore to be revenged upon you, and I am a man of my word. Balmain tried to say something, but failed. I had two years for that, LaLage went on. Two weary years, which is an agony to a restless man like myself. You betrayed me because I was in your way, and so that you could keep the spoil to yourself. You were poorer and less prosperous in those days than you seem to be now. You are rich. I am as poor as yourself, Balmain contrived to say. Ah, that is good hearing. You came here to-night expecting to see Getty, but we took the liberty of using Getty's name. It is only by the nearest accident that I am here tonight to carry out this work. My good friends here would have done it for me otherwise, but I was fortunate enough to escape from the jail yonder, and here I am. Balmain glanced miserably about him. He was calculating the chances of escape of the fate that lay before him. Had this thing taken place in Corsica he would have been in no doubt for a moment. All these men were joined together by blood ties or something of that kind, and insult to one was an insult to another. They had lured him here, and he had come with his eyes open. He cursed his folly, but then he had been hiding, and his money was gone. It seemed like a wonderful slice of luck to find Getty in London. And behold, there was no Getty at all, only this trap and the knowledge that his time was come. Well, Lalage burst out furiously. Why don't you speak? What have you got to say before I put the knife into your heart? End of Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Face to face Balmain groveled helplessly. There were tears in his eyes. The man could plot and intrigue. He couldn't make the weapons for others, but he had no heart for them himself. He was an abject coward without feeling for anyone but himself. He would have left his nearest to starve or die without a prick of conscience, but he was nervous for himself. And he read his sentence in Lalage's eyes. Get up, the latter cried. Why do you grovel there? Ha! You sicken me! Is there no spark of manhood in you at all? You are going to die! An approving chorus followed from the others. You hear that Lalage went on? You are going to die! Your life has been given over to me to do as I please with. There is one way to save your delicate skin, one way to freedom if you choose to take it. Balmain rose from the floor, something like hope crept into his haggard eyes. It shall be done, he said hoarsely. Speak! Ah! I knew you would listen to reason. I knew there was nothing so vile and degraded that you would not do to save yourself. Answer me the question, then. Tell me at once where I can find Leona Lalage. Balmain started, not that he desired to show any courage and refuse. He knew why, none better Lalage wanted to see his brother's wife, and he would have betrayed her to save himself without the smallest hesitation. It would mean the loss of all his plans. It would mean hiding in poverty in England instead of something like luxury on the continent, but he did not hesitate. Leona Lalage would never have acted like that. I will show you where she is, he said hoarsely. Of course you will, Lalage laughed. Heaven be praised, you are no countryman of mine. Oh, you dog, you gutter-cur, you slimy reptile, to betray a mere woman like this, and not even to make a good fight of it. But whilst I revile you and try to get the blood into your white-cowardly cheeks, it is good that you should obey. I spare your life, because it will not be for long. Balmain sat there without a word. He had no feeling, no sense of shame. I'm going to take this man with me, said Lalage as he rose. He's known to you all, and you have marked him well. In his way he will betray us if he can. He will not go to the police, because they may ask awkward questions, and as like as not there is a warrant out for his arrest also. But he is a man of many ideas. If anything happens to me, repeat it to the brotherhood at the headquarters. After that I would not give a week for the life of this Balmain. Balmain nodded and turned. He knew only too well what that threat meant, so far as he could see there was no way out of it whatever. He had come to the end of his resources. If he could only get away from this. Good night, comrades, said Lalage. I shall return presently. Come on, dog, follow at the heels of your master. Lalage struck out boldly into the street, followed by Balmain. There was only one thing uppermost in his mind, one great project that filled his untutored brain. A great wrong had been done, and he was to write it by blood. There was no crime about this, it had been the custom of his race for centuries. His own kin had been done to death, and he was going to avenge the murder. To this end he had caused Balmain to be lured from his hiding-place by those who knew how to bait the trap for the rascal. Once Balmain was in his power he would be compelled to speak, and the night was very dark. Balmain slunk by the side of his companion. He longed to cry aloud that here was a man who had escaped from jail, to have him bound hand and foot, and to feel that he was out of the way for the present. He wanted to go to the nearest policeman and tell him all this. But then the police would want to know too much, and he did not feel that he himself was anything like out of the wood. Again there was the brotherhood, that it was no idle threat on the part of Lalage Balmain knew only too well. Once he betrayed the latter his life was not worth a week's purchase. Are we getting near the spot Lalage asked? We're getting very near now, Balmain croaked. They had come to a better part of the town. They paused at length before Lytton Avenue. The house of many festivities was dark and dismantled. There was no sign of life or movement there. A good idea Lalage muttered, an excellent doubling of the tracks. May I guess that you are going to meet Leona Lalage here tonight? Balmain nodded. He spoke so low that the other hardly caught the words. Here is the latch-key, he said. There are several of them. There is no caretaker in the place as yet. Go in. You have no further need of me. Lalage entered gently. He stood in the pitchy darkness for some time. He could not hear a sound. Presently his patience was rewarded. There was the click of a key in the door and something swished by him. Lalage thrust out his arm and grasped a silken shoulder. Not a cry, he whispered hoarsely. I don't know the house as you do. I'm going to hold on to you and you are going to guide me to a back room where we can turn on the electric light and safety, and recollect that I have two hands and that there is a long knife in the other one. The woman moved on without further sound or protest. She came at length to a room at the back of the house and fumbled along the wall. There was a click and the place was flooded with brilliant light. Leona Lalage fell back with a faint cry. Just for a moment she covered her eyes with her hands. Lalage stood like a statue. He smiled, but there was nothing of mirth in it. Rene Lalage, Leona said, you have come here to kill me. End of Chapter 53 Chapter 54 A Stab in the Dark If there is one thing that is likely to come between you and Bruce, said Lawrence, as he struggled into his overcoat, it is your devotion to that child, Hedy. There is nothing the matter with her at all. She is merely suffering from strawberries. I had an idea to work this afternoon, contrary to my usual custom, and I soothed Mamie with strawberries. Blame me as you like, but there it is. Hedy laughed. It was past eleven and Lawrence was going down to his club for an hour. The little girl had been a bit more fretful than usual. I'm so sorry for the poor child, she said. And so am I. You've done as much for her as if she were your own, but all the same I should not be sorry if somebody claimed her. I've never had the slightest doubt that she is no relation to the Countess at all. Then why should a woman like that encumber herself? My dear child, I don't look upon it in that light at all. The child gave our picturesque friend a certain distinction. My husband is dead, and this is my only child, and all that sort of thing. It pays in society. With which cynical remark Lawrence lighted a cigarette and departed. From above the fretful voice of Mamie called to her dear Hedy. In sooth the child was running a great risk of being spoiled. What is it, darling Hedy said, what can I do for you? Mamie was thirsty. She scornfully refused a suggestion of soda water. Nothing would content her but a certain fruit-salt that came from a certain place some way off. She was quite sure that she could not do without it, and that unless the salt was forthcoming she would have a dreadful headache in the morning. All right, Hedy said cheerfully, I'll go and get it for you. There was the best part of a mile to go. It was getting very late, but Hedy had not been out all day so that she enjoyed the walk. She made her way back along the darkness of Alton Square. Most of the houses were dark, and nobody was to be seen. From a little way off came the sound of rapid footsteps. The step grew swifter, and there was the sound of another behind. As if by magic a half-score of people seemed to spring from under the trees against the square yonder. It all seemed like a dream to Hedy after, a confused mist out of which came two struggling figures. There was the flash of a knife, and Hedy, heedless of danger, darted forward with an idea of interfering. The cry that rose from her lips was stifled. A firm hand grasped her arm. Another was laid tightly over her mouth. You must say and do nothing, a hoarse voice whispered. It is a fair quarrel and a fair punishment, except my deepest apologies for handling a lady so roughly, but I am the creature of circumstance. Hedy's heart was beating violently. The struggle seemed interminable, but in reality it was a mere matter of seconds. When one figure fell to the ground and lay there rigid and motionless, it was too dark to see more than the outline of the tragedy, and almost before it had begun it had dissolved away, leaving only that ominously still figure lying prone in the roadway. Hedy's antagonist had vanished also. He had gone clean out of sight before Hedy realized that she was free. Then she called loudly for help. A policeman came from somewhere, and Hedy was pouring out her tail. "'Seems pretty bad,' the policeman said gruffly as he flashed his lantern down on the white still face. This here's a job for the ambulance.' He whistled again and again, and presently the ambulance came trotting up. It was only when the body was raised that Hedy recognized the white still face. With a thrill it came to her that she was looking at Balmain. She was conscious of no feeling of astonishment. At every turn she seemed to be brought into contact with the central figures of the corner-house tragedy. A sudden inspiration came to her. "'As it happens, I know the gentleman,' she said, while I was governess to the Countess Lolaige's little girl, he frequently came to the house. I am a niece of Mr. Gilbert Lawrence, the novelist, who lives close by. There is a room to spare in his house, and this looks like a bad case. If you will follow me.' The sergeant in charge of the ambulance had no objection to make. A little later, and Balmain was stripped and in bed. A doctor who had been summoned shook his head as he made his diagnosis of the wound. "'Critical,' he said, there has been a great loss of blood, too. It is all a matter of constitution now. Until I can send a nurse in.' Hedy nodded. She perfectly understood, and Bruce had often told her that she was one of the best nurses he had ever met. There was nothing to do for the moment beyond watching over the patient to see that no change occurred. Hedy sat there all alone for some time, wondering. It looked as if fate was playing into her hands. If the man lying at the point of death could only speak, if he could only be induced to do so. Balmain opened his eyes and looked languidly about him. It was quite evident that he had not the slightest idea what had happened. "'Where am I?' he murmured faintly. Hedy explained in a few words. The patient was not to talk. He was to lie there and try to sleep again, if he did so and obeyed instructions, before long he would be out and well again. A queer smile played over the listener's face. "'Til next time,' he said, "'it's all over with me. The pitcher has gone too often to the well, and it has got broken at last. And I deserved all I got. There's no question whatever about that. You are not to say another word,' Hedy said sternly. "'All right, only that you are an angel of goodness. If I could only tell you,' he lay back exhausted and closed his eyes again. End of chapter fifty-four, end of section twenty-two, section twenty-three, chapters fifty-five, fifty-six and fifty-seven of the corner house. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The corner house by Fred M. White, chapter fifty-five, the corner house again. There was no chance for Balmain from the first. He was perfectly conscious all the time. He was to have anything that he required. He was absolutely cynical and callous as to the future. He had always played the coward's part all his life, and now, strangely enough, when he came to die, he showed the greatest indifference. He smiled into the face of the man whose good name he might have cleared, but he gave no sign. So hard and callous a nature was impervious to kindness. Nobody who did a kind action for its own sake was a fool in Balmain's eyes. There was only one that he cared to see, and that was Hedy. In a curious way the girl's goodness and purity appealed strongly to him. As to his future he cared nothing. He wanted to know if anything had been seen of Leona Lalage, and when Hedy replied to the contrary he seemed to be greatly astonished. You are sure she has not been near Lytton Avenue, he asked? Hedy was quite sure of that. Only that day the magnificent decorations of number one Lytton Avenue had been sold on the premises, and nobody could have been there besides those who were interested in the sale. Strange things said Balmain to himself. A most remarkable thing. Miss Lawrence, will you do a favour for me? I would not trust anybody else. But if you will give your promise I shall be easy. There is only one thing I have done that I am really sorry for, and you can set it right for me. I will do anything I can to make your mind easy, Hedy said. Ah, you are a good girl. If I had seen more like you I should have been a better man, but I was brought up in a hard school. It's about Mamie. Did it ever strike you that the child was no relation to Leona Lalage? My uncle has always said so, Hedy replied. Ah, he is perfectly right. That wonderful man is always right. Mamie is the only child of a sister of mine who lives in Florence. I wanted her once to impoverish herself to help me in one of my schemes, and she refused. By way of revenge I had her child stolen. That is some four years ago. She never knew I had a hand in it. She deems Mamie to be dead. When I am gone I want you to write to my sister and tell her what I am saying. Only you must get the address. Only tell me, Hedy exclaimed. Poor woman, what is the address? I cannot tell you from memory, but I am going to ask you to find the address. You know the little bedroom I used to occupy at the top of the Lytton Avenue house. There is a cupboard in the corner, and the board next to the fireplace comes up. In the recess you will find a little box full of papers. On one paper is my sister's address. The other papers I will ask you to burn unread. If I could get into the house, Hedy said, I would cheerfully do what you ask. That is quite easy. I have a latchkey in my waistcoat pocket. You have only to go and get the papers, and nobody will be any the wiser. I felt quite sure you would do this thing for me. Balmain murmured something more and closed his eyes. When the nurse came up to him an hour later he was dead. He had passed away quietly in his sleep. How he came by his death, and who his assailants were nobody knew. There were many dark passages in that dark life known only to itself and its maker. It was a few days later before Hedy thought of her promise to Balmain. It was a fine bright afternoon with a strong sunshine so that even the deserted house in Lytton Avenue looked almost cheerful. With a feeling that she might have been taken for a burglar or a housebreaker, Hedy let herself in. Everything was gone, even to the electric fittings. The place was dismantled and dirty, the floors grimy with a tramp of many feet. A door closed with a sullen bang, and Hedy started. How dreadful it all looks, she murmured. I hope I shall never see it again. Some houses seemed to be given over to misery and crime. Now to find those papers. The little room was at the top facing the blank windows of the corner house. Hedy had no difficulty in finding the box, and a very brief search showed the address she was looking for. The box she emptied into the grate and set fire to the contents with a mat she had brought for the purpose. She watched the flames die away and turned to go. As she did so she looked out for a moment at the corner house. The sun was shining strongly on the grimy windows. It seemed as if somebody was moving inside, Hedy was certain that she could see a shadowy form there. She waited just for a moment in eager expectation. There was the form again, and then the spurt and flare of gas. What would anybody want gas for at this time of the day? The question was answered immediately, for a hand went over the gas flame holding something that looked like a kettle to the flame. Then the hand disappeared, and nothing more was to be seen, despite Hedy's patience. She pondered over this discovery as she went home. It might mean a lot, it might mean a very little. It was more than possible that Mr. Charlton had left a caretaker in possession of the house, with a view to avoiding further incursions upon his possessions, if so that casual way of boiling a kettle was quite the course a caretaker would adopt. All the same Hedy decided to speak of her discovery to Laurence. He was busy at his desk when she returned. He looked up quickly, for there was an expression on Hedy's face that told of some discovery. I've been to Lytton Avenue, she said, to get that address I told you of, and then I made a discovery. Uncle, how long has there been a caretaker on those premises, who boils a kettle by the ingenious expedient of holding it over the gas until it is hot enough? Laurence threw up his pen with a cry of delight. You've made a more wonderful discovery than you know, he said. What a splendid scheme, and how foolish of me not to think of it before. My dear child, you have found the hiding-place of Lyonna Lalage. End of Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Now then The time had come. Lyonna Lalage knew it as well as if she had seen the writing on the wall. This man had come for her. She would have no time to make her peace with the world. When he had his say he would drive his knife into her heart, and there would be an end of it. I thought you were in prison, she gasped. Oh, then you knew that I was in England, Renee replied. I have been in prison for some time, otherwise you would have done less mischief. Woman, what has become of my brother, your husband? She did not reply for a moment. Her courage was coming back to her, as it always did when the stress of danger was great. Hard pressed and beaten down as she was she did not wish to die. She had been crushed flat to earth before and yet she had recovered. If she could only gain time, if she could only manage to throw dust in the eyes of this man, she would ask no questions, because that would be only by way of making admissions. She must feel her way in the dark. And there was no avenue of escape, whatever. She was alone with this man in a dark, deserted house. She had come there for a few needed trifles that she had left behind. We had seen either of them enter, why it was a very premium upon murder and the lust for revenge. Where is my brother, Renee repeated doggedly. You know very well where your brother is, Leona replied. He is dead. He died in a house that is very close to here. He did not die, woman. He was foully murdered. Why should I deny it, Leona said boldly. My husband was murdered. He was slain by Dr. Gordon Bruce for the sake of his money. Renee sneered. He crossed over to the door. Leona laughed aloud. Oh, I have not the slightest idea of trying to escape, she said. Why should I? I am entirely innocent of the death of your brother. You lured him to the corner-house and drugged him. You kept him prisoner. I admit it. Leona discovered my whereabouts and that I was apparently rich and prosperous. He demanded large sums of money. As a matter of fact I was driven to my wit's ends for cash then and I refused. I had to drug him and detain him to still that fool's tongue of his. He might have done me a grave mischief. Then I had a bit of luck and I gave Leona four hundred sovereigns. He knew where you could be found. He told me he wanted to send half to you. I allowed him to go so that he could change his gold into notes for the purpose. Yes, yes, Rene said impatiently, I know all that. Why did you kill him? Why should I have killed him, was the cool response. At the rate he was going he would have drunk himself to death in another week. The rage and lust for revenge was only smoldering in Rene's eyes now. It was just possible that he had made a mistake after all. But you were in the house, he said, disguised as a Spanish woman. Of course I was. Leona and myself had come to an understanding. He was going abroad after he had sent you the money. At great risk to myself I passed between here and the corner-house. I had to disguise myself. And when everything was ready Leona got at the brandy-bottle again. For some nights he had not slept. When I got to the corner-house late that night Leona was practically dead. Better for me if I had left him to die. The passionate despair of the tones touched Rene. It did not seem possible to the man that this woman was acting. But I didn't do anything of the kind, Leona resumed. I had Balmain to back me up. He played the part of a deaf-mute servant for me and fetched Dr. Bruce in the motor-car. When Bruce came I departed. At least I left him on the premises. I dared not stay any longer. Half Bruce's story was a clever lie. He only told a portion of it, and it has been proven beyond doubt that the notes Leona intended to send to you were paid by Dr. Bruce to affirm in the Tottenham Court Road for some furniture. I am not romancing. You can see all this in the papers. Every one of those missing notes had Dr. Bruce's signature on the back. How do you get over that? Rene was silent for a moment. The woman's tongue was getting round him, and the practical part of her story was true. Now listen to me, he said hoarsely. I came here to kill you. I came here to be avenged on my brother's murderer. When you saw me come in you were afraid. Because I read your errand in your eyes. But I am not afraid now. I don't think you are, Rene said, with grudging admiration. Do you know how I got here? We lured Balmain into a trap under the idea that he was going to meet Getty, and I frightened your address out of him. He betrayed you. The outburst of rage and scorn that Rene expected was not forthcoming. She smiled. Not in the way you mean, she said, Balmain has fooled you to save his own skin. He knew I should make my story good and prove my innocence, or he would never have sent you to meet me tonight. He had known what you call alternative, Rene growled. Yes, he had. That man is far cleverer than you. You are a child to him in cunning with all your boasted brains. If you kill me tonight you commit a cold-blooded murder, but you are not going to do anything of the kind. It began to dawn upon Rene that the speaker was right. But he had another weapon still up his sleeves. His vengeance was not boiling within him as it had been. The red light no longer danced before his eyes. Get me food, he said. They starve you in those places yonder. I have tobacco, but my stomach craves for food. Go and get me food. I'll go and lock the area door so that you may not give way to a desire to take the air. After that you can find me something. End of Chapter 56 Chapter 57 A Way Out Leona retorted scornfully that she had no desire for flight. But as for the food that Rene demanded, it was a different matter. Still Lytton Avenue had always been an extravagant household, and there might be welcome food here that would have been looked upon with disdain a few days ago. There was nothing in the kitchen, but there were some boxes in the storeroom beyond, a tin or two of sardines and some biscuits. Also in a wine cellar Leona found a flask or two of chianti. These she handed up to Rene, who returned to the dining room with them. His mood had changed for the moment, but Leona was by no means out of danger yet. He might have been trying her all the time. He might be gloating over his vengeance. If she could only get rid of him, only scare him away. She looked round as if seeking inspiration. She found it presently in the housekeeper's room. Just in front of her was the glitter and sheen of the telephone. The scheme that she wanted came to her like a flash. She closed the door of the room softly and gave a call. It was late at night, the exchange was quiet, and the answer came swiftly. Give me number—well, I forget the number, she said, almost in a whisper. I want to be put on to the nearest police station quick. Vine Street, came the staccato reply. Number 107—there you are. You wanted Vine Street. There you are. Speak up! A hoarse voice wanted to know what was wrong, but it mattered little what noise the speaker made at the other end of the wire so long as the caller spoke under her breath. She proceeded to explain. I'm at number 1 Lytton Avenue, she said. Countess Lalages, you know. Yes, I am quite aware of the fact that it is an empty house, but there is a lot of stuff here that is worth fetching. In fact, there is somebody in the dining-room now. Are you going to do anything, or shall I give the alarm? The gruff voice suggested diplomacy and promised immediate assistance. The caller had only to lie low, and the desired age should be on hand immediately. With a sense of pride and exaltation, Leona Lalages hung up the receiver and made her way to the dining-room. Unless some unforeseen event took place she had saved her own life, but all the same there was danger. The police would probably get Rene, but also they might get her, which was a much more serious matter. She softly opened the catch of the back-drawing-room window so that she could reach the garden. Rene had opened the tin with the point of his knife and was eating sardines and biscuits in a wolfish way, the Quianti he drank from the bottle. That is like a breath of old times he growled as he finished the flask. Let me light a cigarette and then we'll talk again. I am going to try you high, dear lady. I am going to test your story. The old gleam was coming back to his eyes. Leona drew a deep breath. She had half expected this at the time. There was always the chance that this man knew a great deal more than she imagined. It helped must be near her by this time, and she could always prevaricate. Poo! I am not afraid, she said, with an easy contempt. Say on, say on! Ah! I am coming to that fast enough, Rene Grout. You say that you gave my brother four hundred pounds in gold. He paused as he saw Leona listening eagerly, not to himself, but to something outside. She was acting perfectly. There was just a suggestion of alarm in her manner that gave the situation. Didn't you hear something? She whispered. Rene shook his head. He could hear nothing at all. He said so impatiently. It seemed to him that his companion was playing with him. You or I, or both of us, are followed, she said. Come this way. Peep out of the window without lifting the blind. What do you see? A policeman standing rigidly outside the house, making signs with his hands to somebody. A sound of feet creeping down the area steps. The sudden pop and bang of a door forced in by a lever. Look to yourself, Leona cried. They are here. There is a ladder in the garden that leads out to the roof. Never mind me. Rene had no intention of doing anything of the kind. A dim blue-coated figure stood in the doorway of the dining room. With one spring Rene was upon him and carried him to the floor. There was a groan and a snarl and a snore, and the policeman lay on his back, utterly oblivious for the moment. Rene Lalage raced up the stairs. The house was not familiar to him, but he quite understood the meaning of what Leona had said about the ladder. As to the woman herself, she was quite at home there. She slipped into the back drawing-room, and thence across the hall into the drawing-room. The window-catch was unfastened, as she had looked forward to this way out, and an instant later she was in the cool air. She could hear the shouts and yells in the house. Presently she heard the cry of a policeman far overhead. Rene's means of escape had been discovered, and he was being pursued over the housetops. I hope they get him, Leona said between her teeth. I hope they get him, and may they keep him for the rest of his life. She hurried down the garden to the green gate. A little way beyond it was a policeman. No escape that way for the present. The garden was all right, but it would be lightened two or three hours. There was a yell from the roof, and then a policeman's horse roaring, saying that he had got him. The next time Leona looked out the policeman outside the green gate was gone. When and where should Leona go now? She was utterly outcast. If it was possible, it is possible, she cried aloud, fool not to have thought of it before. What better hiding-place could I have than in the corner-house? End of chapter fifty-seven. End of section twenty-three. Section twenty-four, chapters fifty-eight, fifty-nine, and sixty, of the corner-house. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The corner-house by Fred M. White, chapter fifty-eight, nearing the end. René Lalage made his way blindly up to the roof, where he lay breathless under the shadow of a chimney. It was too dark to study any further plan of escape, and too dark for a free dash for liberty. A false step, and he might be dashed to the ground—better be caught and taken back to jail than that. He waited for what seemed a long time, but was only a few minutes after all. Then there were voices coming nearer and nearer, one with a hoarse note of triumph as the ladder leading to the roof was found. This is the way another gruff voice said, He's here for any money. A police-helmet appeared cautiously above the skyline, followed by a bulky body, then a lane of light played all over the roof. Further and closer, René nestled up in the shadow of the chimney. He was in the center of the gleaming light now, and presently his figure grew distinct and clear. Come out of it, my lad, said the gruff one good-humoredly. We've got you. René rolled down the roof to a long ledge that the light had shown him. If he could run along that he could gain the next house and go a deal further, then he might slip down another ladder, and so through a sleeping household to safety. He rocked unsteadily over on the ledge with his feet hanging perilously over the parapet. The next instant one of the police officers at the risk of his neck was upon him. René would have wriggled for his knife, but he dared not move. Come quietly, the officer suggested. If you want to commit suicide go on acting like that, and if you drag me down that won't save your life. Lolage saw the beautiful force of the argument. Besides he was not anxious to die yet. His own bitter regret was that he had not completed his mission. If he had only known that his dalliance with opportunity had proved his own undoing, he would have been moved to a deeper and fiercer anger. I'll come quietly, he said between his teeth. Have you got the woman? The officer shook his head in a puzzled kind of way. He knew nothing about any woman, perhaps those below had accounted for her. There were lights all over the house when Lolage was led down with the handcuffs on his wrists. Have you got the woman? he asked again. Nobody had seen anything of any woman. A light began to dawn upon René. I'm coming quietly, he said, to show my friendly feeling. I don't mind telling you that you've made an important capture. Now, during the last hour, have you heard anything of an escape from Holloway? The sergeant in charge of the party had heard all about that. Party of the name of Lolage, he said, what do you know about him? The prisoner struck his breast theatrically. Simply because I am that distinguished individual, he said. I tell you that because in any case you must have found that out before long. My liberty comes to me in a way that is likely to prove useful. I came here to take a great revenge. Pa, I may be what you call criminal, but I am not a burglar. I have not sunk to that yet. I came here to see a woman. Have you got her? Seen nothing of a woman, growled the sergeant. Oh, then I began to have still deeper suspicions. How did you know I was here? I was certain that I was never tracked. Somebody in the house, the sergeant, explained sketchily. Caretaker or something of that kind, or so we imagined, called on the telephone. Renee broke out into sudden exaltation. He saw it all now. He had been lulled into a false position of security and Leona had slunk away and called for assistance on the telephone. He had not known that there was such a thing in the house. How she must have smiled at him in her sleeves all the time, knowing that his captor was certain and that she had her own avenue of escape. What's this about a woman, the sergeant asked. Renee checked himself. He grew suddenly calm, but the effort threw him into a violent perspiration. Well, his time should come yet. Take me back to Holloway, he said sullenly and ask your Prout to see me in the morning. Say it will be worth his while. Prout came up smiling in the course of the next afternoon. He was disposed to chaff his prisoner in a mild kind of way. The experience was worth the money, the latter said. My friend had arranged everything. I got our dear Balmain in our clutches within an hour and I said to him, Dog, where is Leona Lollage? And he professed not to know, but we had means of our own you understand to make him speak. And he spoke at last. He told me where to find her and where do you think it was? Well, Prout said thoughtfully, seeing that you were traced to Litton Avenue, I suppose that you found her there. I did. So you see that she has not escaped from London. Perhaps you knew that before you came here. Anyway, I have told you. And I'll tell you more if you are not aware of it already. Leona Lollage and the Spanish gypsy of the corner house are one and the same woman. Prout nodded, all this was no news to him. Lollage paced up and down the cell fiercely. His eyes were full of cell and fire and she killed my brother, he said. Oh yes, there is no doubt about that. If I had not been a fool, I should have been avenged last night. And spoilt my game, Prout said coolly. Oh, you are going to have all you need in the way of revenge, but in a legitimate way. Within a few hours London is going to learn the mystery of the corner house. End of Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Light in the Corner House Gilbert Lawrence had put away his books and papers with the air of a man who means to take a holiday. He did not seem in the least surprised. Are you astonished, had he asked? Well, no, Lawrence said. You see, the woman was taken by surprise. She was quite destitute so far as money was concerned at the time and she must hide somewhere. At the same time we must not forget the cleverness of the woman with whom we are dealing. She would argue to herself that until she could communicate with some or another of her many accomplices, there could be no safer hiding place in the corner house. The very audacity of it would put everybody off the scent. Charlton hates the place and does not go near it. Nobody wants to go near it, in fact. So, therefore, it seems to me to be a natural thing to do. Hettie permitted herself the luxury of a smile at Gilbert's expense. Then why did you not suggest a search there, she asked? That is a very fair question, Lawrence admitted. I put that out of my mind because, as I told you before, the main scheme of the tragedy was taken from my skeleton plot. In that plot the cause of all the mischief goes back to hide in the very spot where the mischief was done. Now, in the course of my diplomacy I had to let the Countess know I had discovered that somebody had used my brain for inspiration under the circumstances she might not have carried the thing to the end. An additional proof of her clever and wonderfully logical mind said Hettie. On the whole you are doing her no more than justice, said Lawrence. Still, we do know where she is now and I'm going to see her. If she falls into the hands of Prout now we shall never get her to speak and, therefore, we shall have no end of trouble to clear Bruce's name as it should be cleared. I'll just run round and get Charlton to accompany me and then for a thrilling interview. Charlton complied without enthusiasm. In a few days he was going to have everything in the corner house sold and subsequently dispose of the property altogether. It was a little after four o'clock that he put his key in the latch and the two entered. A casual glance did not disclose any marks of occupation but there were traces of food in the kitchen and some utensils had evidently been used. Look at the bottom of those saucepans, said Lawrence. See how they are smoked? At the same time there is no soot on them. Our quarry has not dared to light a fire by reason of the smoke. It is quite plain that Hettie was not mistaken when she said she saw a hand holding a kettle over the gas and by jove this kettle is still warm. For a long time the search of the house disclosed nothing. Up and down they looked but no trace of Leonel Lalage could be found. Under the tiles of the roof was a small closet and in a vague kind of way Lawrence poked his stick in there. Something soft yielded to his touch. Will you kindly step out, he suggested politely. A dirty grimy figure emerged as unlike the dashing brilliant countess Lalage as could be well imagined. Her face was white and drawn but nothing could dim the fire and flash of those wonderful dark eyes. Ill and worn as she was she carried herself upright as if her black dress had been a Paris gown. There was a bitter little smile on her face. She was going to make the best fight she could under the circumstances but she was beaten. She had come to the end of her resources and nobody knew it better than herself. I expected this, she said. I knew that it must come sooner or later. I am sorry that I cannot receive you in better fashion. Well, you have hunted me down. What do you propose to do now? To listen to your story, said Lawrence. And if I refuse to tell you any story? In that case I shall ask you to listen to mine with what patience you can. I have no desire to be in the least vindictive. It is a matter of indifference to me whether you stand in the dock or not. Personally I would go out of my way to save any woman from that indignity but if you will have it you must. But I do not share those views, said Charlton. I recognize this woman now though she no longer wears any disguise. There stands my wife's murderous. I shall never be content till the world knows that. I prefer to regard the lady for the present as Countess Lalage, said Lawrence, but we can find a better place for discussion than this. He stood aside politely for the woman to pass. She led the way in her imperious fashion as if they had been honored guests of hers. She carried her dingy dress magnificently. In the drawing room Lawrence drew the blind so that they could see better. The garish light of day shone on Leona Lalage's pale face and disclosed the deep black lines under her splendid eyes. Only the flick and tremor of her lips betrayed her feelings. With her hands folded in her lap she waited. Are you not going to speak first, Lawrence asked? No, I am not, came the slow reply. Oh, you are a clever man without doubt and you have the air of one who holds all the cards. It will be a pleasure for me to listen to what you have to say. Charlton rose. The woman's coolness and nerve were inflammable to him. I cannot stay here, he cried. That woman maddens me. It brings back all the recollections that I'm trying to forget. I shall forget myself. Lawrence laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. Patience, the little patience he whispered. It is not for very long. You will please stay here and see a confession signed. My confession, Leona Lalage cried. Even so, madame, I make no idle boast. Before I leave here the name of an innocent man will be cleared. Leona Lalage smiled unsteadily. Her lips twitched horribly. Go on, she whispered. Go on, mine enemy. End of Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Narrowed Down It was a curious scene, a scene to remember long afterwards. In all Lawrence's imaginative writing he had never constructed anything more striking than this. He was about to hear the story of a strange crime and it could not be told in a better setting than the corner house. The garish sunlight struggled through the grimy panes. Under ordinary circumstances the drawing room was a luxurious one but the fine dust of years had settled upon pictures and statues and upon the upholstery of the old empire furniture. As Charlton paced to and fro a gossamer cloud of dust seemed to follow him. In the center of it all sat Leona. Lawrence could see now that there were marks and bruises on her face the result of the auto-car accident which showed out now that there was no artist to attend to them. She sat with her hands folded in her lap grimly patiently waiting for the novelist to speak. He produced a cigarette. You won't mind, he said. I will have one with you, Leona replied. That will be more comfortable. Now will you be so good as to proceed? We will go back to the beginning, Lawrence began. Here is a very beautiful and fascinating woman living all alone in her wealth. Her talents and her loveliness have taken her into the cream of society. Which isn't worth the trouble when you've got it. There I perfectly agree with you but the lady I speak of is bound to lead. Wherever she is and whatever walk of life she finds herself in, she is bound to lead. She flashes out and dazzles London. She lives in a fine house and entertains royally. But there is one thing that puzzles me. Why does the lady reside so far from Park Lane or Belgravia or Mayfair? Lytton Avenue houses are large and they have gardens. Lawrence smiled as he flicked off the end of his cigarette. It is very good of you to assist me in my deductions, he said, but that does not quite account for everything. In fact, it accounts for nothing. There are finer houses in the localities I speak of with better gardens and a lady who pays for nothing has no need to study economy. Leona laughed outright. I have paid nothing for years, she said. Lodasse, Lodasse, c'est toujours Lodasse. But for circumstances over which I have no control I might have gone on to my death. But proceed, I am interested. Let us hope the story will proceed in grip as it proceeds, Lawrence murmured. I was interested too. This, I say, in effect to myself is a splendid woman with a halo of mystery. I must study her with a view to a future heroine. I see her in the park where I can study her features. After a time I come to the conclusion that I have taken up a magnificent adventurous. Never a truer word in your life, Leona sneered. Well, I am glad not to have offended you. Incidentally, I am not the less interested because my young relative, Hedy Lawrence, holds a position of some trust in the house of the heroine of the story. I say to myself that I must know the Countess, Lodasse. We become quite friends, in fact. Leona smiled in a queer, strange way. Oh, yes, she said slowly, we were friends. I bear you no malice. But if I had only guessed, well, we should have seen something fresh in the way of obituary notices. You would have removed me, Lawrence asked. I, I should, I should have put you from my path. Make no mistake about that. But it is no use repining over that. Go on. Well, I study you. Then I begin to see my way. It was only the kind of idea that would creep into the brain of a novelist who does not scruple to endow even his most intimate friends with ferocious qualities for business purposes. But I allowed myself to think that the reason why you had come to Lytton Avenue was because you were in some way interested in the corner house. There you have the first faint indication of the shaping of the story. Here in the dull and gloomy corner house with its dark and gloomy tragedy, cheek by jowl with the hardness and glitter and brilliancy of Lytton Avenue. If my adventurer wants a big, dark cupboard to hide things, where can she have a better one than the corner house? If I bore you, bore me, Leona cried. Never more interested in my life. Subtlety of this kind always appeals to me. Proceed. Again it is a little strange that I have already built a romance around the corner house before the heroine came along. I told you once that I had known the owner of the corner house before the tragedy. I had my heroine and I had my plot, a plot of vengeance and wounded pride. But stranger still to say the live heroine yourself is more deeply interested than I imagined. We will say that she did a foolish thing. She fell in love with one of her own guests, Dr. Bruce to be plain. Leona quivered but said nothing. It was only by a motion of her hand that she signaled Lawrence to proceed. Well, this love came, the wild and reasoning passion of the South. Dr. Bruce was pushed on, his fortune was being rapidly made. Then my heroine makes a discovery in strict accordance with the conditions of the game. Her governess and the doctor are affianced to one another. It is always thus in books, Leona said, with a hard smile. Inevitably, but you were not in a book, unfortunately. You were flesh and blood and you took your own way. You thought you had been slighted. You made up your mind to get your revenge at any price. All the same you could not see your way. You wanted a neat plot to get Bruce into trouble, for he had bad taste and not caring for you. You used the simple expedient of stealing mine. End of chapter 60. End of section 24. Section 25, chapter 61, 62 and 63 of the Corner House. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. The Corner House by Fred M. White. Chapter 61. Logic. Just a moment, Leona said eagerly. Suppose I deny that. How are you going to prove that I did so? I'm coming to that, Lawrence said, lighting a fresh cigarette. As soon as Bruce was in trouble and the plot began to reel off, I saw that it was mine. Of course, there were large variants in the details, but the scheme was mine. It was even laid on the same spot as my skeleton's story. When I grasped that, I knew quite well that somebody must have stolen my plot. But why must it have been me, Leona asked? Well, in the first place, because woman's instinct helped me. My niece said for some time that you were deeply in love with Dr. Bruce and that she feared for him, item the first. Then I recollected telling you some details of my story plot, item the second. I came to the conclusion you had stolen my plot and you stole it on the very night that I told you the main incidents. How did you find that out, Leona cried, startled off her balance. Glad you admit it, Lawrence said calmly. When I went to look for the synopsis, I knew perfectly well that I should not find it and yet it was there only the day before as I recollected afterwards. Now, how did you get it? The night in question, you were only out of the room a little time and yet in that little time you contrived to lay your hands on my notes. This, Leona murmured, is quite thrilling. Well, I promise you I shall be more thrilling later on, said Lawrence. I had to settle that part before I went any further. I tried to recall the conversation. How could you have got into my rooms? Then it came to me like a flash. A journalist who stood by asked me where I carried my latch-key, a joking suggestion that he would steal my plot. I said it was in the ticket-pocket of my overcoat. Then I began to understand. You were only a little time from the room. Why did you go from the room? Ostensibly to see Captain Gifford off in his new auto-car. Here was a possible solution. I saw Gifford later and he told me that you had been larking off in his car for twenty minutes, long enough at that time of night to get to my chambers and back easily. That is logical at any rate, but to go further you borrowed a man's coat to put over your shoulders and the coat you borrowed was mine with the latch-key in the pocket that I got from a footman. And when I came to look for my skeleton plot it was gone. Then I knew where I had to search. Leona Lalage was at the bottom of the cornerhouse mystery. It was her hand that I had to force. Once that was done the rest was easy. So far you have made it quite plain, Leona murmured, but I failed to see that all the rest was easy. Easy to me, said Lawrence, whose plot had been stolen. Remember it was really I who planned that business of palming the notes on to Bruce. Of course, of course, Leona murmured with her hand to her head. My mind has not been quite so clear for the last few days. Go on. Well, a man had been murdered at the cornerhouse which was not a detail of my plot. I saw that man and Miss Lawrence had seen him too. She saw him, you will remember, one night in one of the windows of the cornerhouse. She saw a struggle go on there. The other man was no doubt Balmain. Leona inclined her head as if in consent. Afterwards, which is much more to the point, my niece saw Leona Lalage there. I had better call him your husband because really there is no denying that. The man was in your house in the morning room and had he saw him. After the business of the notes came out and the story of the Spanish gypsy was told, I knew perfectly well what had taken place. You had called Bruce into your drunken husband by means of your new motor with Balmain playing the deaf mute. After Bruce was gone, you killed the man with a knife you procured at Rossers in Regent Street. I find the knife in the dry well behind the house. Leona said nothing. There was a queer strained look, half of admiration on her face. But she uttered no protest, no denial. Now we come to the marvelous evidence against Bruce. There you had stolen my plot, body and boots. Bruce is poor, so was my hero. You find out all about that picture he bought and Balmain or somebody, it does not in the least matter who, in the guise of a Dutchman, puts Bruce in possession of two hundred pounds. These notes he places in his pocket. Later on he is called to the corner house where he is received by the Spanish lady and then he has to handle a man in the last stage of collapse. The latter part of the plot is your own and from an artistic point of view a great improvement on mine. Murder and robbery make a fine combination. You had previously arranged the proceedings, the notes and their numbers, adopted or suggested doubtless by you as a precaution, the letter to Renée Lalage and all to be found on the body. If you can plant those numbered notes on Bruce, then he is ruined for all time. Having gone so far the rest is easy and this is where my scheme comes in again. Bruce has to take his coat off. In the guise of the Spanish lady, a slight variation of my mysterious woman, you hang his coat up carefully in the closet for him. You knew that two hundred pounds in notes was in that pocket, notes that Bruce had come by quite honestly. The rest is easy. Leona bent forward to listen, even Charlton seemed to have forgotten his troubles for the moment. A beam of light illuminated his somber face. Go on, said Leona, nothing seems to be concealed from you. Now please tell me what happens next. The simplest thing in the world. You took the packet of notes from Bruce's pocket and supplied their place with the forty-five pound notes, the numbers of which were sent out in the letter which Leon Lalage had intended for his brother and when Bruce went away he had that damning evidence in his pocket and that is how the vile, shameless thing was done. End of chapter sixty-one. Chapter sixty-two, confession. For the first time Lawrence showed signs of indignation, cool and logical as he had hitherto been, he could not quite restrain himself in the presence of this woman who had no shame or remorse or anything save admiring curiosity. Directly Bruce told his story he went on presently, I knew exactly what had happened, I knew all about the motor-car also. Then it was time for me to act. I was using the house as a kind of trap for you one night when Mr. Charlton appeared. He was good enough to pardon the liberty we had taken and to tell us his story. Then I began to see my way pretty clear. It was I who caused you to be informed about the missing diamonds being still in the well. I had found out that you were in desperate need of money. Isidore let me into that. Also through him I got to know Maytrank. You came for the diamonds but you did not get the real ones for the simple reason that I had already been down the well and got them for myself. They were simply and plainly set so that I had no trouble in getting paced imitations. So far so good. Maytrank comes on the scene and asks for his money. You have no money, therefore you give him your diamonds. You try to get them back from him but you fail in the long run owing to the courage of a young girl who has watched the whole proceedings. I have purposely refrained from dwelling upon the valuable aid Miss Lawrence has given us all through. Leona passed her tongue over her dry lips. I wish I had known, she murmured. Oh, I wish I had known. I dare say, said Lawrence dryly, but you didn't know. There would have been another murder on your soul if it had not been for my niece. Maytrank was furious but he was a valuable ally to me. In fact, I calculated on that. By his means I forced a confession from you that it was yourself who paid the rest of those notes to Isidore and this I can prove out of your own mouth by the production of that tuberose perfume. You were mad and desperate that night to part with the last of your store. How did you know it was the last of my store, Leona cried? Why, it could not logically have been otherwise. Would you have produced those notes above all others if they had not been the last you possessed? True, Leona murmured, true. You are too strong for me. Meanwhile the clouds were gathering round you. Prout finds your husband's brother by a happy chance. Once he has done this, things become easy for us. The more easy they become for us, the more desperate they grow for you. Then you decide that you must recover those notes from Isidore. You take out your motor car, so cunningly disguised in black lead. That is true, but how did you know? From Miss Lawrence's evidence at the first inquest, also the evidence of the reporter. The car was draped, they said, in places it shone. Those places were where the lead was rubbed off. You could make the car somber black and brilliantly light at will. You used to lock it up in the yard here. We find a fresh cake of black lead in the scullery, which completely puzzled me for a little time. When I heard about the auto car I knew, but we're getting away from the point. When luck turned against you, it did so completely. You got into Isidore's rooms only to find Mr. Charlton there, who was waiting for him. Again fortune favoured us. Mr. Charlton gave the alarm and you had to fly. At length the motor was abandoned and its secret disclosed. You disappeared. Sooner or later I was certain of seeing you again. You were? Why? I was quite certain. Because my desperate woman hides by the scene of her crime. I was a little dubious about you because that comes out in my plot. Perhaps you counted upon that and the fact I should not look for you here after all. It was a game of subtle cross-purposes. But I did look for you here and I found you. It is a rather long story that I have had to tell, but it has been necessary and if I repeated it in a court of law I am afraid it would cause you serious inconvenience. It would hang me, Leona cried. Why should I be afraid to confess it? You have been too strong for me. Every word you have said is true. Every step you have taken has been fully justified. I was going to defy you at first, but I am not such a weak and silly fool as that. I have had a clever antagonist who has beaten me all along. I have been criminally careless. If I had taken the trouble I could have evolved as good a plot as one of your own. I fancy you could, said Lawrence. I am absolutely certain of it. I took you for a dreamer. I argued that if I used this thing you would not be an Adam the wiser. People who talk so much about their own work as you do are generally very foolish. Lawrence looked a little confused for a moment. He knew his own weakness in that respect. I have little more to say, he went on. I have written out a confession for you in a more condensed form than I have explained to you. I thought you might like to sign it. Not that it much matters whether you do or not. The more reason why I should do so, Leona sneered. If it did really matter I would see my right arm rotting off before I put a pen to paper. But I have had a most worthy antagonist and I know the game too well not to play it correctly. Give me a pen and let me finish it. Lawrence took a fountain pen from his pocket. Without the slightest hesitation and in a good dashing hand Leona Lalage appended her signature. It was a great deal more firm and true than either of the witnessing signatures. Now you go and leave me, she cried. I am sick of the sight of your faces. Give me a chance. Let me have an hour's start. Charlton spoke for the first time. Never he cried. Is another name too clear? Which I shall be able to do, Lawrence interrupted. And let that woman go, I tell you never the very stones in the street would cry out at me. You hear that knocking at the door? Go and open it. Lawrence crossed and opened the street door. Prout stood before him. End of Chapter 62 Chapter 63 A Final Verdict I got a message from Mr. Charlton to follow him here, Prout gasped. You don't mean to say that you've got her here, sir. Indeed he has, Mr. Prout, Leona said coolly. Will you come in? We've been having a pleasant conversation with some pleasing confessions. Have you come for me? The woman was smiling now quite freely. All traces of passion and anxiety were gone. She knew the end had come and she was prepared to accept it without complaint. Prout looked a little awkward as he bowed. I shall not slip through your fingers in the same way as before, said Leona. I flatter myself I did you very neatly when you called upon me in Lytton Avenue, but all the same I am going to escape you. It's my duty, madam, Prout began, to ask you to accompany you, presently, but not quite in the way you imagine. I have made my confession in a way that Mr. Lawrence thoroughly appreciates. It was I who murdered Lyonne Lalage, my husband, in this house. It was I who palmed off those notes on Dr. Bruce. No reason to tell you why now, and it was I in this very house who robbed my late mistress of her jewels and forged the letter from her husband that caused her to take poison. After that I have no more to say. Gentlemen, I am much obliged by your kind attention and I say farewell to you thus. There was a warning shout from Lawrence who dashed forward and grasped the speaker by the wrist, but she wrenched herself away from him and placed the table between them. Prout was looking on in a confused kind of way. Clothes with her yelled Lawrence, she's got poison in her hand. Leona Lalage laughed aloud. She threw back her head, and a few drops from the little bottle were tilted between her teeth. Almost instantly she grew livid. Swift and sure, she said, it's Prusick! She said no more. The ashy pallor of her skin grew whiter. There was a look of horror, swift as summer lightning, in her splendid eyes. Then she pitched forward. There was a thud and a cloud of dust, and she lay there rigid, motionless. Dead, whispered Prout, dead instantly. It was Prusick acid. The whole room reeks of it. It was as well to finish it this way. There'll be an inquest now, and the whole business will come out. They laid the body on a sofa, and the trio left the corner house. They were very silent as they walked along. Some houses are accursed, Charlton said at Lane. Mine has been the abode of mystery and crime for years. I shall never enter it again. And may this be the last of the evils connected with my house. Must attend the inquest, sirs, at the practical Prout. Still if that was my house I'd pull it down if I couldn't sell it. Gordon Bruce was returning from an important consultation when he first heard the news. It was the sensation of the hour. Public attention in the corner house mystery had never relaxed. On the flight of Countess Lalage it had doubled. Where had she gone, and what was the true solution of the mystery, were the only questions asked? And here it was, all out in the lurid light of day. Dramatic arrest of the Countess, the suicide and confession. It was flaring in the evening papers. The boys were yelling at the top of their voices in the street. The din of it filled Bruce's ears. Confession of the crime, the confession of the murder, the mystery of the motor explained. After Bruce cleared of the cruel charge. It seemed strange to Gordon to hear his name yelled out like this in his own ears. He had a paper thrust into his hands. He bought one eagerly enough and stood spellbound on the pavement whilst he read. It was all here, even down to a signed copy of the confession. Lawrence had seen to that. Bruce turned into his club in a dazed kind of way. The smoking room was full. He was the centre of a group, all of which seemed eager to shake hands. It was also sudden that Bruce was not himself yet. He got away at length to his own room. The servants greeted him with smiling faces. The housekeeper was in tears. Not that I ever believed it, she said, never from the first. And now you'll have the finest practice in London. I'd quite forgot, sir, to say that there is a young lady waiting for you. There was no need for Lawrence to ask who was waiting for him. He closed the door behind him, and a second later Hetty was in his arms. There was a long, clinging caress, and their lips met in the sweetest of embraces. It was a long time before either of them spoke. Hetty's eyes were full of happy tears. I shall realise it presently, Bruce said at length. My darling, I should never have had my good name cleared thus, but for you, you were the bravest girl in the world, and all those dangers for me. I was not afraid, dearest, Hetty said. I thought of you. I knew it would come right. I felt from the first that the truth would come out, and now all those people have gone. Bruce, you will not be sorry for this after. The telephone jangled sharply. Bruce listened to the message with a smile. The Duchess wants me to see her boy at once, he said. The Duchess, you know, the one who so annoyed you at Lady Longmere's party. Hetty clapped her hands joyfully. That is a good omen, she said. They will all be after you now, dear. Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with happiness. Bruce looked at her with pride and love in his eyes. I dare say, he said, and it has been a long, trying time. Hetty, we shall be able to get married as I planned. What do you say to July, or? You had better, Hetty said demurely, you had better run away and see to your Duchess. End of CHAPTER sixty-three End of section twenty-five End of The Corner House by Fred M. White