"Of course. I will not leave the country till Bernard is seated in his proper place, and married--I understand he is to be married."
"I believe so. But he must first be able to face his fellow-men in safety," said the lawyer, quickly. "Now, signor, you admit that you were at the house in Crimea Square on that night."
"Yes, why not? I went to see Sir Simon. I walked to the Hall in Ess.e.x to see him. He had gone to town; I found out where, and I came back to see him. On that night I went some time before ten o"clock."
"I know that," said Durham. "Mrs. Gilroy admitted you. She says she took you up to Sir Simon, and that you quarrelled with him."
"It is true, we had words."
"And then you left the house without seeing her. Behind you, according to Mrs. Gilroy, you left the dead body of Sir Simon."
Tolomeo started up as though about to run away, but immediately afterwards sat down. "I don"t suppose you have called me here to make an arrest, signor," he said. "I am innocent, but I admit that I thought there might be trouble should it be known I was in that house on the night. I therefore kept silent. But now I know that my nephew is alive and accused of the crime, I will speak out. It was Mrs. Gilroy who admitted me, but it was not Mrs. Gilroy who let me out. I left Sir Simon perfectly well when we parted, and he promised to help me the next day."
"Oh! And the next day you heard of his death?"
"No, I heard of his death on that night. I was hanging about the house when Bernard escaped. I picked up--but I will tell you that later, signor, listen to my tale--it is strange but true. Set down what I say, for this I am prepared to swear to in a court of law. I should have seen you before and spoken had I known that Bernard was alive, but thinking he was dead I did not talk as I fancied there might be danger to me."
"There is danger if what Mrs. Gilroy declares is true."
"Confront her with me. What does she say?"
"I do not know where she is," confessed Durham, and related how the diary had been found, and explained the contents so far as they bore on the accusation of Tolomeo. He listened attentively.
"Oh, what a wicked woman!" he said vehemently when Durham ended. "I do a.s.sure you, signor, that I am innocent. Listen! I called to see Sir Simon before ten on that night. I sent up my name. The woman you speak of brought back a message that her master would see me."
"One moment," put in Durham. "Did you see a red light in the window?"
"Yes. There was a lamp near the window although the room was lighted with electric lamps. A red handkerchief was stretched across the window.
But I know of the Red Window at the Hall," said the Italian, with a shrug. "My sister used to signal to me. I guessed that Sir Simon was making a signal to Bernard."
"Are you sure of that?"
"He told me so himself," said Tolomeo, quietly, "and it was because he thought I might know where Bernard was that he saw me. He said he would forgive Bernard and help me. We had some words, as he called me--a Tolomeo--names which I could not hear quietly. But afterwards he said he would help me, and then he wanted to see Bernard. Miss Randolph told him of the use she had made of the Red Window, so in this London house he did the same thing, hoping that Bernard might see the light and enter.
If Bernard had," said the Italian, with great earnestness, "all would have been well."
"Do you know if Sir Simon sent a boy to bring Bernard?"
"No. I do not know. Sir Simon said nothing of that. He only put the lamp behind the handkerchief in the hope that Bernard might come to the house. For all he knew Bernard might have learned where he was staying.
I think the old man was sorry he quarrelled with my poor nephew," said Tolomeo, with earnestness.
"Well, after arranging this you left Sir Simon?"
"Not immediately. Mrs. Gilroy came in and said that someone wanted to see Sir Simon. He heard her whisper to him, and said I could go away, telling Mrs. Gilroy to send up the stranger. She went away. I followed, and opened the door myself."
"The front door?"
"Yes. But when I was going out I heard Sir Simon call over the stairs.
He asked me to return. I closed the door and did so."
"Ah!" said Durham, making a note. "Mrs. Gilroy thought you had left the house. She said so in her diary. Then she came upstairs?"
"No," said Tolomeo, "she did not. I went back to the room. Sir Simon said he wanted me to be present, as he had a disagreeable interview. He made me hide behind a curtain. I did so. Then the door opened and Bernard entered."
"What!" Durham started from his seat. "That"s impossible."
"Of course it is," rejoined the Italian, smiling; "but I a.s.sure you, signor, the man who entered I took to be Bernard. He was----"
"Michael, the son of Mrs. Gilroy. I know that."
"Ah! And how?" asked Tolomeo, surprised and rather vexed. "I hoped to astonish you by this."
"Well, it"s a long story. I"ll tell it after you tell me yours. Michael entered dressed as a soldier."
"Yes," said Tolomeo, more and more surprised by the extent of the lawyer"s knowledge. "I thought he was my nephew until I heard his conversation. Then I knew that this was Mrs. Gilroy"s son and that she had been deceived by Walter Gore in a false marriage. Sir Simon told Michael that he was tired of a.s.sisting him, and accused him of making love to the housemaid. The boy--he is but a boy, signor--acknowledged this. Then Sir Simon said that Michael had forged his name for one thousand pounds."
Durham started up again. "What! Ah!" he said. "So that was a forgery, and I thought Sir Simon gave him the check. It was honored."
"Yes. Sir Simon said he knew it was a forgery, for the bank sent the check to him. But he said nothing about it so as to spare this Michael.
But he said also that if Michael did not leave the country he would prosecute him. Michael retorted and there was a quarrel. I thought he would have struck the old man, so I came out. When Michael saw me he grew pale and, opening the door, ran downstairs and out into the fog. I followed to bring him back, as Sir Simon said, "Follow him.""
"Why did Michael run away?"
"I do not know. But he did. I went into the fog and followed him to the High Street. Then I lost him. As I turned out of the square I brushed past a man. It was under a lamp-post and I saw his face. He was in evening dress and was walking quickly. He entered the house by the door I had left open."
"And who was that?" asked Durham, curiously.
"Julius Beryl."
"Impossible! He was at the theatre."
"He was; but he came back," said Tolomeo, putting his hand in his pocket. "Listen. I ran up to the High Street, but could see nothing of Michael. I walked about for long. Then I came back before eleven. I found the door open, I saw Bernard in the hall, and heard that he was accused. I thought he was Michael returned. He escaped. I was by the railings on the opposite side of the street. As he ran he dropped a handkerchief. See!" Tolomeo produced it. "It is marked "J. B.""
Durham s.n.a.t.c.hed the handkerchief. A faint smell of chloroform lingered about it still. Beryl"s initials were in the corner. Durham looked up very pale.
"Yes," said Tolomeo, "that man killed Sir Simon."
CHAPTER XIX
PLOTS AND COUNTERPLOTS
On hearing from Tolomeo that Beryl was the guilty person, Durham was not so surprised as he might have been. He had always suspected that Julius was in some way connected with the crime, although he had not thought him personally guilty. But the story of Guiseppe, and the production of the handkerchief marked with Beryl"s name seemed to put the matter beyond doubt. Durham remembered how Conniston had always said that when the lost handkerchief was found the a.s.sa.s.sin would be identified.
Apparently his prophecy had come true. Here was the handkerchief, so fortunately picked up by Tolomeo, and it belonged to Julius. Also Julius, according to the Italian, had entered the house in Crimea Square about the time the murder was supposed to have been committed.
"And there"s no doubt that Beryl sent Jerry for Bernard, so that he might be brought to the spot for accusation," thought the lawyer when Tolomeo had gone. "The whole thing was a plant. I expect he arranged to go to the Curtain Theatre so as to have an _alibi_. But the theatre is near Crimea Square and it would be easy for Beryl to slip round between the acts. Humph! Evidently he did kill the old man--this handkerchief is proof enough, to say nothing of Tolomeo"s evidence. What"s to be done next?"