"He is. I am sure of that. Michael, your half-brother, is the man resembling you who masqueraded--probably at the instance of his mother.
I daresay he saw Sir Simon on that night, and was admitted by his mother. Probably he insisted that he was the heir, and Sir Simon lost his temper. Then he killed the old man, and----"
"And Mrs. Gilroy put the crime on to my shoulders. I see it all."
"I don"t," said Durham, dryly. "I wish I did. For instance, I don"t see why you were brought to Crimea Square in the nick of time for Mrs.
Gilroy to accuse you. I don"t understand about the Red Window either!"
Gore walked up and down the room much agitated. "Mark," he cried at last, "I must come out and face this. I can"t sit still here, knowing that all this villainy is about."
"You must," insisted Mark, firmly. "Remember I am your lawyer and I will look after your interests, to say nothing of Conniston, who has remained in England for your sake. Wait, Bernard. In good time I will bring you forward."
"But what will you do?"
"I shall see Mrs. Gilroy and question her again. She declared that her son was in America when I accused him to her of having killed Sir Simon.
Now Michael undoubtedly presented this check at the beginning of October. The murder took place at the end of the month, so Michael was in England. When I place this fact before Mrs. Gilroy, she may give in and confess."
"Confess what?"
"That you are innocent. Whether she will acknowledge that Michael, her son, committed the crime I can"t say. I"ll see her to-morrow, and I left word with Miss Randolph to-day that I would. The solution of the mystery lies with Mrs. Gilroy."
"Where can her son be found?"
"That we must learn. I may be able to force her to speak. When we find Michael you can reappear, and then the matter will be threshed out. Jane will soon be able to distinguish between these Corsican Brothers.
Meantime, remain quietly here."
"I must! I must! And yet----"
"And yet you won"t think I am doing my best for you."
"I do--you know I do, Mark. But, after all, my position is terrible."
"Don"t make it worse by acting impulsively. I shall keep you advised of all that goes on. When does Conniston return?"
"To-morrow, with Alice and Miss Berengaria. He went over to-day."
"I saw him there. I expect he will stop the night. Well, while he is here with Miss Malleson and her aunt, I shall see Mrs. Gilroy."
"But if she refuses to speak," murmured Gore, anxiously.
"I have means to make her speak," said Durham, significantly.
CHAPTER XIV
LOVE IN EXILE
Next day at twelve o"clock Durham went back to Hurseton to see Mrs.
Gilroy. She alone could relate the true story of the night. But before he left Bernard he related an incident about which he had forgotten to tell him on the previous night.
"Did you ever see your Uncle Guiseppe Tolomeo?" he asked.
"Several times," replied Bernard, with no very pleased expression. "I a.s.sisted him with money."
"He is the kind of person who will always have to be a.s.sisted," was the lawyer"s reply. "I fear he is a scamp, old fellow."
"So my grandfather said. I don"t think he is a good man myself. All the same he was my mother"s brother, and I must a.s.sist him."
"He"ll give you every opportunity to do so," said Durham, dryly. "I had a visit from him the other day?"
"What did he want?"
"His errand was similar to that of Mrs. Gilroy"s. He wished to know if Sir Simon had made any provision for him in the will. I don"t know on what grounds he based his claim, as your grandfather hated him. But he evidently expected to be remembered. I told him he would get nothing, and then with true Italian excitability he began to lament that you had not lived, saying you would have helped him."
"I shall certainly do that. He is my uncle when all is said and done.
What is he doing?"
"Playing the violin in some orchestra. The fellow is a gentleman, Bernard, but a thorough scamp. Since he can earn his own bread I don"t think it is wise for you to let him live on your money."
"There"s no chance at present of my letting him believe I will allow that," said Gore, rather dolefully. "What else did he say?"
"Rather a strange thing. He said that he told Sir Simon that the Red Lamp would not bring you."
"The Red Window, you mean. My uncle knew about that one at the Hall.
When my mother was alive, and staying--as she did for a time--with Sir Simon, she used to put a light in the Red Window so as to tell Tolomeo that she would meet him in the garden on that evening. The window is visible through a long avenue, and can easily be seen from the road which runs past the grounds. My poor mother used it as a signal to her brother, as Lucy used it as a signal to me. And I believe that in days gone by--in Charles the First"s days--it was used in a like manner to warn loyal cavaliers."
"Tolomeo did not say the Red Window," replied Durham, wrinkling his brows, "but the Red Lamp, which makes me think he must have been with Sir Simon on that fatal evening."
Bernard looked up alertly, and his brow grew dark. "How do you make that out?"
"Well," said Durham, after a pause, "I questioned Jane Riordan again about the possibility of there having been a red light visible!"
"There was," interrupted Gore, decisively. "I saw it myself."
"And Mrs. Webber saw it, although afterwards it disappeared. Well, Jane told me that there was a lamp on the table in front of the window. She saw it when she went up with the cook and Miss Randolph."
"I remember. I was in the grip of the policeman then," said Gore.
"Well, it is strange, seeing that the apartment was lighted by electricity, that a lamp should have stood in front of the window."
"What do you infer?" asked Bernard, doubtfully and uneasily.
"This much. Your cousin told Sir Simon about the use she made of the Red Window--your cousin Miss Randolph, I mean--and when she was at the Curtain Theatre with Beryl, I believe he put the lamp in the window to attract you."
"Had the lamp a red gla.s.s?"