Read Ebook: The Lady from Nowhere: A Detective Story by Hume Fergus

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Ebook has 1401 lines and 52766 words, and 29 pages

"I can. If I couldn't, I wouldn't have sent for you."

"Do you know the motive for the committal of the crime?"

"I do I've employed my wits to some purpose, I can tell you."

"And the name of the assassin?"

"Yes! Didn't I say in my letter that I had solved the mystery, you fool?"

"And where he is to be found?" continued Gebb, exhaustively.

For the first time Parge replied in the negative. "There you have me," he grumbled, scratching his chin. "I know where he should be, but I don't know where he is. It will be your business to find him."

"If you'll give me a clue to his whereabouts, I'll do my best," was the meek reply of the pupil.

"I can't," said the ex-detective, frankly. "I did my best to hunt him down four years ago, before I retired, and I failed."

"Ho! Ho! So this cove has been in trouble before?"

"Not only in trouble, but in prison."

"On what charge?" asked Gebb, with openly expressed surprise.

"On a charge of murder!"

"What! Is this assassination of Miss Ligram his second crime?"

"It is," replied Parge, enjoying the astonishment of his visitor; "but this man--I'll tell you his name later on--did not intend to kill Miss Ligram."

"But he did kill her--strangled her!"

"Not Miss Ligram!" said the fat man, obstinately. "Ligram was an assumed name."

"I know that, Simon. She has passed under half a dozen names."

"So the papers say. Just run over the names."

Gebb did so promptly, giving the names in order. "Margil, Migral, Ramlig, Limrag, Milgar, and Ligram."

"Good! Now, Absalom, what strikes you as strange about these names?"

"They are all invented," said Gebb, after a pause.

"Quite so," assented Parge, "and their invention does credit to the imagination of the lady. Do you notice that the same letters, differently placed, are used in every instance?"

"Anagrammatic!" said Gebb, with a nod.

"Precisely! She manufactured all these false names out of her real one."

"A very ingenious idea, Simon. And what is her real name?"

"Gilmar!" replied Parge, slowly. "Miss Ellen Gilmar, of Kirkstone Hall, near Norminster, Hants."

For quite two minutes Gebb sat in silence, looking at his chief in blended wonder and amazement Try as he might he could not guess how the fat man had come by this knowledge. What he, with the use of his limbs, and the power of the law, had failed to discover, this invalid--as he might be called--had found out without moving from his armchair. In a darker age Gebb might have judged Parge to be gifted with necromantic power, or divination by second sight.

"Are you certain of this?" he asked in a hesitating voice.

"Quite certain!" cried Parge, furiously. "Quite certain. I'm not a fool."

"But how did you find out?"

"In what way?" asked Gebb, still perplexed "What clue had you?"

"The clue of the Yellow Boudoir."

"The Yellow Boudoir!" repeated Gebb, recalling his own fancy.

"Yes!" said Parge, gravely "Twenty years ago, in a room furnished in the same fashion, in a room under the roof of Kirkstone Hall, there was a murder committed. In this book," Parge here laid his hand on the large volume, "there is a full account of the trial of one, Marmaduke Dean, for the murder of John Kirkstone; and the crime was committed in the Yellow Boudoir."

"But what has a crime committed twenty years ago to do with the assassination of Miss Lig--I mean, of Miss Gilmar?"

"Everything. Miss Gilmar only reaped as she sowed. You must hear the story in full before you can see the connection. But to put the matter briefly, you must understand that Dean was convicted of killing Kirkstone and was sentenced to death. Afterwards, as there was some doubt about the absolute justice of the verdict, the death sentence was commuted to penal servitude for life. Dean swore that he was innocent, and that the accomplishment of the crime had been brought about by the machinations of Ellen Gilmar. He swore, if his life were spared, to escape from prison and kill the woman who had placed him by her craft and cruelty in the dock. About four years ago the man did escape from Dartmoor Prison; and it was dread lest he should keep his word which drove Miss Gilmar from lodging to lodging, under different names. For some reason--best known to herself--she chose to dwell in a room, furnished and draped similar to that in which the first crime had been committed. It was reading the description of that room which put me on the right track.

"And you believe that Miss Ligram and Miss Gilmar are one and the same person?" asked Gebb, breathlessly.

"I am certain of it, on the authority of the Yellow Boudoir."

"And you think that Dean murdered her?"

"Yes; I believe that Dean kept his word."

"But what was his reason?"

"Vengeance!" said Parge, opening the red book. "Listen! I will tell you the case after my own fashion, and you shall learn the reason why Miss Ligram was strangled at Grangebury."

It sometimes happens that a youthful spendthrift becomes an aged miser, and hoards money in the same extreme fashion as formerly he wasted it. John Kirkstone was a fair example of this species of human chameleon. As his father's heir, he drained the estate of all ready money, and squandered the same in London without regard to economy or even reason. In this riotous life he was encouraged by a former college companion--one Marmaduke Dean--who even went to the extent of borrowing money of Kirkstone, and so became his debtor for a large sum. Dean subsequently married a lady of fortune, and repaid a portion of the money; but either could not, or--as was more probable--would not discharge the whole. On this point Kirkstone, who needed money for his pleasures, quarrelled with his friend, and the pair parted to meet no more for some years. It would have been better for both had they never renewed their youthful friendship.

As might be expected, old Squire Kirkstone was by no means pleased with his son, and did not relish leaving his large fortune to one who probably would waste it in a few years. The Hall and its surrounding acres were entailed, and were bound to pass into John Kirkstone's hands; but the old man possessed a large income acquired by speculation, which was at his own disposal. Wrathful at his spendthrift son, he resolved to leave this personal property to his only daughter; and accordingly, when John became Squire on the death of his father, he found that his sister Laura was in possession of a good income, while he had to be content with a dwelling far too large for his means, and several farms whose tenants did not always pay their rents. The shock of this discovery was unpleasant, but salutary.

In the first place Kirkstone renounced his London profligacy and associates, and came to live at the Hall; in the second, he insisted that his sister should dwell with him, and pay a handsome yearly sum for the privilege; and in the third, he invited his first cousin, Ellen Gilmar, to be his housekeeper. Laura Kirkstone, who was a weak-bodied and weak-natured girl, readily consented to remain at the Hall, and pay what her brother demanded, and as readily welcomed her cousin Ellen as mistress of the household, a post for which she herself had no great love. Having thus arranged matters, Kirkstone--though not yet forty--became as penurious as formerly he had been wasteful; and in this system of economy was ably assisted by his new housekeeper, a shrewd, cold-hearted skinflint.

Laura, in derision, called Ellen Mrs. Harpagon, after Moli?re's miser; and well did Miss Gilmar deserve the name. She was a little, black, active woman, with a neat figure and a somewhat pinched white face. Her eyes were hard-looking, her lips were thin, and she was a perfect skinflint in the management of the household. Even Kirkstone, inclined as he was to economy, grumbled at times about her excessive economy; but as the months went by, he fell gradually into her saving way of living, and the Hall soon gained a name in the county for all that was mean and niggardly. The larder was always kept locked, the servants were ill fed, and the occasional beggars who came to that forbidden door were not fed at all. Scraping, and screwing, and hoarding of money became the order of the day; and Kirkstone soon found that he was redeeming his former waste, at the cost of a hard and somewhat hungry life. However, the habit of living thus penuriously became confirmed, and both he and Mrs. Harpagon vied with one another in discovering new methods of saving money. The only person in the Hall who did not relish this extreme economy was Laura Kirkstone.

The attitude adopted by Kirkstone towards his wealthy sister was a fairly amiable one. Having a strong will, he compelled her weaker one to bow to it; and kept a sharp watch on her, lest she should marry some one of whom he did not approve, and so take the money--which he looked upon as rightfully his own--out of the family. Many a young man would have been glad to marry Miss Kirkstone, both for her money and good looks; for in a pink-and-white sort of way the girl was pretty; but Kirkstone invited none of these would-be suitors to the house, and turned a cold shoulder to them in public. Laura was forbidden even to speak to them; and being kept closely to her own home, lived in the gaunt, grim Hall, like an enchanted princess guarded by two ogres. And none of the young knights who wished to marry her had sufficient courage to brave the black looks of Kirkstone, or the acidulated sneers of his amiable housekeeper and cousin. Such was the position of affairs at Kirkstone Hall when Marmaduke Dean again entered into the life of his former friend.

It was the death of his wife which led to Dean's visit to Kirkstone Hall. He had squandered the fortune of the unhappy lady, and had treated her with so much coldness and neglect that she had died of a broken heart, leaving him a little son. Dean promptly placed the child with some distant relatives, and being poor again, looked about him for some means whereby he could procure money. Recalling the easy-going and generous disposition of Kirkstone, he resolved to apply to him for aid, quite oblivious to the fact that he was already in his debt. To this end he one day presented himself at the Hall, and was astonished to find that its owner, from a generous friend, had changed into a miserly curmudgeon. Kirkstone not only refused to help Dean, but demanded immediate repayment of the monies already due. Dean, seeing that only trouble would come of his application, was on the point of withdrawing, so as to save himself the danger of being sued for the lent money, when a new idea entered into Kirkstone's knavish brain which made him detain Dean at the Hall as a necessary element to bring it to fruition. The scheme was none other than the marriage of Laura to the disconsolate widower, and comprehended a division of her fortune between the brother and the proposed husband, an amiable arrangement which really amounted to robbery.

Laura herself forced Kirkstone to adopt this plan by reason of her refusal to let him handle the fortune which had been left to her by their father. Like most weak-minded people she was singularly obstinate on some points, and, being cunning enough to see that her sole hold over her brother lay in retaining command of her money, she always evaded his proposals to manage her investments. Beyond the income he derived from the sum she paid for board and lodging, Kirkstone had nothing to do with these monies, of which, as he frequently stated, he had been robbed. Naturally he was angered to think of his loss, and tried several times to bully Laura into surrendering her fortune. The result of this ill-judged conduct was that Laura met force by cunning, and, taking a dislike to her brother, executed a secret will, whereby she left the whole of the money to Ellen Gilmar.

In this case there was no honour among thieves, for the housekeeper tricked her master and cousin by keeping secret the fact of the will, and when Kirkstone tried to marry his sister to Dean, he was quite unaware that Ellen, for her own selfish ends, intended to thwart the match if she could. Furthermore a new and unforeseen obstacle arose to complicate matters, for it chanced that both Laura and Ellen fell in love with Dean. The scamp was a handsome man, with a plausible manner, and Laura was quite willing to marry him, and to settle half her fortune on him, receiving in return a presentable husband with a damaged reputation. It was agreed between Kirkstone and Dean that when the marriage took place the latter should discharge his debt to the former, and also pay over a certain sum of money by way of commission on the marriage settlement. So far all went well, and Kirkstone invited Dean to stay at the Hall until the marriage took place, and all pecuniary arrangements between them were settled. It was then that Ellen threw prudence to the wind, and lost her heart to Dean.

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