This latter remark was made to stop the torrent of his speech. It was not my business to listen to incriminating declarations, or to ingenious defences. All that sort of thing is for judge and jury; therefore I ended the conversation as above, and marched off my prisoner. Whether the birds of the air carry news I do not know, but they must have been busy on this occasion, for next morning every newspaper in London was congratulating me on my clever capture of the supposed murderer. Some detectives would have been gratified by this public laudation – I was not. Roy ’s passionate protestations of innocence made me feel uneasy, and I doubted whether, after all, I had the right man under lock and key. Yet the evidence was strong against him. He admitted having been with Mrs Vincent on the fatal night; he admitted possession of two fifty-pound notes. His only defence was the letter of the stockbroker, and this was missing – if, indeed, it had ever been written.
Vincent was terribly upset by the arrest of Roy. He liked the young man and he had believed in his innocence so far as was possible. But in the face of such strong evidence, he was forced to believe him guilty. Yet he blamed himself severely that he had not lent the money and so averted the catastrophe.
‘I had no idea that the matter was of such moment,’ he said to me, ‘else I would have gone down to Brixton myself and have given him the money. Then his frenzy would have spared my wife and himself a death on the scaffold.’
‘What do you think of his defence?’
‘It is wholly untrue. I did not write a note, nor did I tell him to go to Brixton. Why should I, when I fully believed no one was in the house?’
‘It was a pity you did not go home, Mr Vincent, instead of to the Alhambra.’
‘It was a mistake,’ he assented, ‘but I had no idea Roy would attempt the robbery. Besides, I was under engagement to go to the theatre with my friend Dr Monson.’
‘Do you think that idol belongs to Roy?’
‘I can’t say. I never saw it in his possession. Why?’
‘Because I firmly believe that if Roy had not the idol in his pocket on that fatal night he is innocent. Oh, you look astonished, but the man who murdered your wife owns that idol.’
The morning after this conversation a lady called at Scotland Yard and asked to see me concerning the Brixton case. Fortunately, I was then in the neighbourhood, and, guessing who she was, I afforded her the interview she sought. When all left the room she raised her veil, and I saw before me a noble-looking woman, somewhat resembling Mr Maudsley’s clerk. Yet, by some contradiction of nature, her face was the more virile of the two.
‘You are Miss Ford,’ I said, guessing her identity.
‘I am Clara Ford,’ she answered quietly. ‘I have come to see you about Mr Roy.’
‘I am afraid nothing can be done to save him.’
‘Something must be done,’ she said passionately. ‘We are engaged to be married, and all a woman can do to save her lover I will do. Do you believe him to be guilty?’
‘In the face of such evidence, Miss Ford -’
‘I don’t care what evidence is against him,’ she retorted. ‘He is as innocent of the crime as I am. Do you think that a man fresh from the committal of a crime would place the money won by that crime in the hands of the woman he professes to love? I tell you he is innocent.’
‘Mr Vincent doesn’t think so.’
‘Mr Vincent!’ said Miss Ford, with scornful emphasis.
‘Oh, yes! I quite believe
‘Surely not if it were possible to think otherwise! He is, or rather was, a staunch friend to Mr Roy.’
‘So staunch that he tried to break off the match between us. Listen to me, sir. I have told no one before, but I tell you now. Mr Vincent is a villain. He pretended to be the friend of Julian, and yet he dared to make proposals to me – dishonourable proposals, for which I could have struck him. He, a married man, a pretended friend, wished me to leave Julian and fly with him.’
‘Surely you are mistaken, Miss Ford. Mr Vincent was most devoted to his wife.’
‘He did not care at all for his wife,’ she replied steadily. ‘He was in love with me. To save Julian annoyance I did not tell him the insults offered to me by Mr Vincent. Now that Julian is in trouble by an unfortunate mistake Mr Vincent is delighted.’
‘It is impossible. I assure you Vincent is very sorry to -’
‘You do not believe me,’ she said, interrupting. ‘Very well, I shall give you proof of the truth. Come to my brother’s rooms in Bloomsbury. I shall send for Mr Vincent, and if you are concealed you shall hear from his own lips how glad he is that my lover and his wife are removed from the path of his dishonourable passion.’
‘I will come, Miss Ford, but I think you are mistaken in Vincent.’
‘You shall see,’ she replied coldly. Then, with a sudden change of tone, ‘Is there no way of saving Julian? I am sure that he is innocent. Appearances are against him, but it was not he who committed the crime. Is there no way?’
Moved by her earnest appeal, I produced the green-stone idol, and told her all I had done in connection with it. She listened eagerly, and readily grasped at the hope thus held out to her of saving Roy. When in possession of all the facts she considered in silence for some two minutes. At the end of that time she drew down her veil and prepared to take her departure.
‘Come to my brother’s rooms in Alfred Place, near Tottenham Court Road,’ said she, holding out her hand. ‘I promise you that there you shall see Mr Vincent in his true character. Good-bye till Monday at three o’clock.’
From the colour in her face and the bright light in her eye, I guessed that she had some scheme in her head for the saving of Roy. I think myself clever, but after that interview at Alfred Place I declare I am but a fool compared to this woman. She put two and two together, ferreted out unguessed-of evidence, and finally produced the most wonderful result. When she left me at this moment the greenstone idol was in her pocket. With that she hoped to prove the innocence of her lover and the guilt of another person. It was the cleverest thing I ever saw in my life.
The inquest on the body of Mrs Vincent resulted in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. Then she was buried, and all London waited for the trial of Roy. He was brought up charged with the crime, reserved his defence, and in due course he was committed for trial. Meantime I called on Miss Ford at the appointed time, and found her alone.
‘Mr Vincent will be here shortly,’ she said calmly. ‘I see Julian is committed for trial.’
‘And he has reserved his defence.’
‘I shall defend him’ said she with a strange look in her face. ‘I am not afraid for him now. He saved my unhappy brother. I shall save him.’
‘Have you discovered anything?’
‘I have discovered a good deal. Hush! That is Mr Vincent,’ she added, as a cab drew up to the door. ‘Hide yourself behind this curtain and do not appear until I give you the signal.’
Wondering what she was about to do, I concealed myself as directed. The next moment Vincent was in the room, and then ensued one of the strangest of scenes. She received him coldly, and motioned him to a seat. Vincent was nervous, but she might have been of stone, so little emotion did she display.
‘I have sent for you, Mr Vincent,’ she said, ‘to ask for your help in releasing Julian.’
‘How can I help you?’ he answered in amazement – ‘willingly would I do so, but it is out of my power.’
‘I don’t think it is!’
‘I assure you, Clara,’ he began eagerly, when she cut him short.
‘Yes, call me Clara! Say that you love me! Lie, like all men, and yet refuse to do what I wish.’
‘I am not going to help Julian to marry you,’ declared he sullenly. ‘You know that I love you – I love you dearly, I wish to marry you -’
‘Is not that declaration rather soon after the death of your wife?’
‘My wife is gone, poor soul. Let her rest.’
‘Yet you loved her?’
‘I never loved her,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘I love you! From the first moment I saw you I loved you. My wife is dead! Julian Roy is in prison on a charge of murdering her. With these obstacles removed there is no reason why we should not marry.’
‘If I marry you,’ she said slowly, ‘will you help Julian to refute this charge?’
