I was bending over my love and dashing water into her face when we were all suddenly startled by a loud explosion, and then we saw in Cane's hand a smoking revolver.

He had fired at me--and, fortunately, missed me.

In a second, however, the officers fell upon him, and after a brief but desperate struggle, in which a table and chairs were overturned, the weapon was wrenched from his grasp.

"Eh! bien," exclaimed Fremy, when the weapon had been secured from the accused. "As you will have some unpleasant things to hear, you may as well listen to some of them now. You have denied your guilt. Well, I will tell Inspector Edwards what I have discovered concerning you and your cunning and dastardly treatment of the girl known as Marie Bracq."

"I don't want to hear, I tell you!" he shouted in English. "If I'm arrested, take me away, put me into prison and send me over to England, where I shall get a fair trial."

"But you shall hear," replied the big-faced official. "There is plenty of time to take you to Brussels, you know. Listen. The man Senos has alleged that you stole from the man you murdered a blue paper--bearing a number of seals. He is perfectly right. You sold that paper on the eighth of January last for a quarter of a million francs. Ah! my dear friend, you cannot deny that. The purchaser will give evidence--and what then?"

Cane stood silent. His teeth were set, his gaze fixed, his grey brows contracted.

The game was up, and he knew it. Yet his marvellously active mind was already seeking a way out. He was amazingly resourceful, as later on was shown, when the details of his astounding career came to be revealed.

"Now the true facts are these--and perhaps mademoiselle and the man Senos will be able to supplement them--his Highness the Grand Duke of Luxemburg, about two years ago, granted to an American named Ca.s.sell a valuable concession for a strategic railway to run across his country from Echternach, on the eastern, or German, frontier of the Grand Duchy, to Arlon on the Belgian frontier, the Government of the latter State agreeing at the same time to continue the line direct to Sedan, and thus create a main route from Coblenz, on the Rhine, to Paris--a line which Germany had long wanted for military purposes, as it would be of incalculable value in the event of further hostilities with France. This concession, for which the American paid to the Grand Duke a considerable sum, was afterwards purchased by Sir Digby Kemsley--with his Highness's full sanction, he knowing him to be a great English railroad engineer.

Meanwhile, as time went on, the Grand Duke was approached by the French Government with a view to rescinding the concession, as it was realised what superiority such a line would give Germany in the event of the ma.s.sing of her troops in Eastern France. At first the Grand Duke refused to listen, but both Russia and Austria presented their protests, and his Highness found himself in a dilemma. All this was known to you, m'sieur Cane, through one Ludwig Mayer, a German secret agent, who inadvertently spoke about it while you were on a brief visit to Paris. You then resolved to return at once to Peru, make the acquaintance of Sir Digby Kemsley, and obtain the concession. You went, you were fortunate, inasmuch as he was injured and helpless, and you deliberately killed him, and securing the doc.u.ment, sailed for Europe, a.s.suming the ident.i.ty of the actual purchaser of the concession. Oh, yes!" he laughed, "you were exceedingly cunning and clever, for you did not at once deal with it. No, you went to Luxemburg. You made certain observations and inquiries. You stayed at the Hotel Bra.s.seur for a week, and then, you were afraid to approach the Grand Duke with an offer to sell back the stolen concession, but--well, by that time you had resolved upon a very pretty and romantic plan of action," and he paused for a moment and gazed around at us.

"Then robbery was the motive of the crime in Peru!" I exclaimed.

"Certainly," Fremy replied. "But I will now relate how I came into the inquiry. In the last days of January, I was called in secret to Luxemburg by the Grand Duke, who, when we sat alone together, informed me that his only daughter Stephanie, aged twenty-one, who was a rather erratic young lady, and fond of travelling incognito, had disappeared. The last heard of her was three weeks before--in Paris--where she had, on her return from Egypt, been staying a couple of days at the Hotel Maurice with her aunt, the Grand d.u.c.h.ess of Baden, but she had packed her things and left, and nothing more had been heard of her. Search in her room, however, had revealed two letters, signed 'Phrida,' and addressed to a certain Marie Bracq."

"Why, I never wrote to her in my life!" my love declared, for she had now regained her senses.

"His Highness further revealed to me the fact that his daughter had, while in Egypt, made the acquaintance at the Hotel Savoy on the Island of Elephantine, of the great English railroad engineer, Sir Digby Kemsley, who had purchased a railway concession he had given, and which he was exceedingly anxious to re-purchase and thus continue on friendly terms with France. His daughter, on her return to Luxemburg, and before going to Paris, had mentioned her acquaintance with Sir Digby, and that he held the concession. Therefore, through her intermediary, Sir Digby--who was, of course, none other than this a.s.sa.s.sin, Cane--went again to Luxemburg and parted with the important doc.u.ment for a quarter of a million francs.

That was on the eighth of January."

"After the affair at Harrington Gardens," Edwards remarked.

"Yes; after the murder of Marie Bracq, he lost no time in disposing of the concession."

"It's a lie!" cried the accused. "That girl there killed her. I didn't--she was jealous of her!"

My love shrank at the man's words, yet still clinging to me, her beautiful countenance pale as death, her lips half parted, her eyes staring straight in front of her.

"Phrida," I said in a low voice, full of sympathy, "you hear what this man has alleged? Now that the truth is being told, will you, too, not speak? Speak!" I cried in my despair, "speak, dearest, I beg of you!"

"No," she sighed. "You--you would turn from me--you would hate me!"

And at her words Cane burst into a peal of harsh, triumphant laughter.

CHAPTER x.x.xI.

SHOWS THE TRUTH-TELLER.

"Speak, laidee," urged the Peruvian. "Speak--tell truth. Senos know--he know!"

But my love was still obdurate.

"I prefer to face death," she whispered, "than to reveal the bitter truth to you, dear."

What could I do? The others heard her words, and Cane was full of triumph.

"I think, Miss Shand, that you should now tell whatever you know of this complicated affair. The truth will certainly have to be threshed out in a criminal court."

But she made no answer, standing there, swaying slightly, with her white face devoid of expression.

"Let Senos tell you some-tings," urged the narrow-eyed native. "When that man kill my master he fly to Lisbon. There Mrs. Petre meet him and go London. There he become Sir Digby Kemsley, and I see him often, often, because I crossed as stoker on same boat. He go to Luxemburg. I follow.

One day he see Grand Duke's daughter--pretty young laidee--and somebody tell him she go to Egypt. She go, and he follow. I wait in Ma.r.s.eilles. I sell my rugs, wait three, four weeks and meet each steamer from Alexandria. At last he come with three laidees, and go to the Louvre et Paix, where I sell my rugs outside the cafe. I see he always with her--walking, driving, laughing. I want to tell her the truth--that the man is not my master, but his a.s.sa.s.sin. Ah! but no opportunity. They go to Paris. Then she and the laidees go to Luxemburg, and he to London. I follow her, and stay in Luxemburg to sell my shawls, and to see her. She drive out of the palace every day. Once I try and speak to her, but police arrest me and keep me prison two days--ugh! After a week she with another laidee go to Paris; then she alone go to Carlton Hotel in London.

I watch there and see Cane call on her. He no see me--ah, no! I often watch him to his home in Harrington Gardens; often see him with that woman Petre, and once I saw Luis with them. I have much patience till one day the young lady leave the hotel herself and walk along Pall Mall. I follow and stop her. She very afraid of dark man, but I tell her no be afraid of Senos. Quick, in few words, I tell her that her friend not my master, Sir Digby--only the man who killed him. She dumbstruck. Tells me I am a liar, she will not believe. I repeat what I said, and she declares I will have to prove what I say. I tell her I am ready, and she askes me to meet her at same place and same time to-morrow. She greatly excited, and we part. Senos laughs, for he has saved young laidee--daughter of a king--from that man."

"What? You actually told her Highness!" cried Fremy in surprise.

"I told her how my master had been killed by that man--with the snake--and I warned her to avoid him. But she hesitated to believe Senos," was the native's reply. "Of course, she not know me. That was date six January. I remember it, for that night, poor young laidee--she die. She killed!"

"What?" Edwards cried, staring at the speaker. "She was killed, you say?"

"Yes," Fremy interrupted, "Marie Bracq was the name a.s.sumed by her Highness, the daughter of the Grand Duke. She loved freedom from all the trammels of court life, and as I have told you, went about Europe with her maid as her companion, travelling in different names. Mademoiselle Marie Bracq was one that it seems she used, only we did not discover this until after her death, and after his Highness had paid the quarter of a million francs to regain the concession he had granted--money which, I believe, the French Government really supplied from their secret service fund."

"Then it was the daughter of the Grand Duke who fell a victim in Cane's flat?" I gasped in utter surprise at this latest revelation.

"Yes, m'sieur," replied Fremy. "You will recollect, when you told us at the Prefecture of the name of the victim, how dumbfounded we were."

"Ah, yes, I recollect!" I said. "I remember how your chief point-blank refused to betray the confidence reposed in him."

And to all this the a.s.sa.s.sin of Sir Digby Kemsley listened without a word, save to point to my love, and declare:

"There stands the woman who killed Marie Bracq. Arrest her!"

Phrida stood rigid, motionless as a statue.

"Yes," she exclaimed at last, with all her courage, "I--I will speak.

I--I'll tell you everything. I will confess, for I cannot bear this longer. And yet, dearest," she cried, turning her face to me and looking straight into my eyes, "I love you, though I now know that after I have spoken--after I have told the truth--you will despise and hate me! Ah, G.o.d alone knows how I have suffered! how I have prayed for deliverance from this. But it cannot be. I have sinned, I suppose, and I must bear just punishment."

There was silence.

We all looked at her, though the woman Petre was still lying in her chair unconscious, and upon the a.s.sa.s.sin's lips was a grim smile.

"You recollect," Phrida said, turning to me, "you remember the day when you introduced that man to me. Well, from that hour I knew no peace. He wrote to me, asking me to meet him, as he had something to tell me concerning my future. Well, I foolishly met him one afternoon in Rumpelmeyer's, in St. James's Street, when he told me that he had purchased a very important German patent for the manufacture of certain chemicals which would revolutionise prices, and would bring upon your firm inevitable ruin, as you pursued the old-fashioned methods. But, being your friend, and respecting us both, he had decided not to go further with the new process, and though he had given a large sum of money for it, he would, in our mutual interests, not allow it to be developed. Naturally, in my innocence I thanked him, and from that moment, professing great friendliness towards you, we became friends.

Sometimes I met him at the houses of friends, but he always impressed upon me the necessity of keeping our acquaintance a secret."

And she paused, placing her hand upon her heart as though to stay its throbbing.

"One afternoon," she resumed, "the day of the tragedy, I received a telegram urging me to meet him without fail at five o'clock at Rumpelmeyer's. This I did, when he imparted to me a secret--that you, dear, were in the habit of meeting, at his flat, a foreign woman named Marie Bracq, daughter of a hair-dresser in the Edgware Road; that you, whom I loved, were infatuated with her, and--and that----"