The Red Window Part 53

"Wait a moment," said Mrs. Gilroy, rising in the excitement of her tale.

"Beryl and the old man quarrelled. Then Sir Simon told him to go back to the theatre. Beryl, thinking he had offended Sir Simon past recall, wept. Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, with a sneer, "he cried like a child. Sir Simon was disgusted. He s.n.a.t.c.hed his handkerchief from him, and threw it on the floor. Beryl was ordered out of the house again. He left and went back to the theatre. The interview took only a few minutes."

"But the murder?"

"I committed it," said Mrs. Gilroy, simply.

Durham and the clerk both jumped and stared.

"You?" said the lawyer.

"Yes," said Mrs. Gilroy, coolly. "You have been on the wrong tack all along. You thought that Bernard killed Sir Simon--that my son did so--that Tolomeo did so--that Beryl was guilty. But you were all wrong.

I, and none other, killed Sir Simon."

"You say this to save your son?"

"No. Tolomeo can prove that Sir Simon was alive when Michael fled from the house. Beryl can prove that I was alone with Sir Simon. It was late--the servants were in bed. I determined to kill the old man."

"Why, in Heaven's name?"

"Because I saw that when Bernard came he would be arrested, and there would be a chance for my son getting the money. Then Sir Simon intended to have Michael arrested--I wished to stop that. Then, again, for years Sir Simon had insulted and humiliated me. I hated him fervently. Oh, I had plenty of reasons to kill the old brute. I went downstairs and got the chloroform."

"Had you that ready?" asked Durham, horrified at this recital.

"Yes and no. I didn't buy it then. I always thought that Sir Simon kept his will at the Hall, and I bought the chloroform months before, hoping one night to make him insensible, so that I could look at the will. But the chloroform was not wasted," said Mrs. Gilroy, with a pale smile. "I brought it with me to town--always ready to watch for my chance of rendering my master insensible and of reading the will. I wanted to see if he left Michael anything, and if he had really left me the five hundred he promised. Besides, in his death, I saw a chance of getting rid of Bernard by hanging, and of having my son acknowledged as the heir."

"But Beryl? You reckoned without Beryl?"

"No," said Mrs. Gilroy, calmly. "You forget the handkerchief. I took that down with me, and soaked it with chloroform. I guessed that the handkerchief would condemn Beryl, should it be necessary to accuse any one. I did not foresee what would happen," added the woman, impatiently.

"I only acted as I saw things then. I came upstairs, and while pretending to arrange Sir Simon's cus.h.i.+ons, I clapped the handkerchief over his mouth. He struggled for a long time. It is not easy to chloroform people," said the woman, pensively. "I thought they went off at once, but Sir Simon was some time struggling."

"Go on--go on," said Durham in disgust. "Get this over."

Mrs. Gilroy laughed and drew her shawl tightly about her spare figure.

"After he was insensible," she continued, "I strangled him with his own handkerchief, after tying Beryl's handkerchief across his mouth. I then went down and took my work up again while waiting for Bernard."

Durham made a gesture of abhorrence. "You could work?"

"Why not?" said Mrs. Gilroy. "There was nothing else to do--the old man was dead--the trap was set. All I had to do was to wait till Bernard walked into it."

"Had you no regrets for that?"

"None. Bernard Gore robbed my boy of his birthright."

"Bernard was the eldest son, even though Michael had been born in----"

"I know all about that," said Mrs. Gilroy, waving her hand, "spare me your preaching. Is there anything more you wish to know?"

"About this plot to get the false will signed?"

"I knew little of that. I accused Bernard, and he escaped. Beryl guessed I murdered the old man, but for his own sake he held his tongue. I heard Bernard's whistle, or rather Jerry's, and went out crying murder. The rest you know. Then I played my part. I left the diary at the Hall for Miss Randolph to find, as I thought Tolomeo might be accused. I fancied, as things turned out, it would be better to have Bernard back, and get him to do something for Michael. That was why I prepared the diary."

"It was a false entry?" said Durham, looking at her.

Mrs. Gilroy yawned. "Yes, it was. I prepared it, as I say. I am getting very tired," she added. "Let me sign the paper and go."

"You must sign the paper, and you must be arrested," said Durham.

"As you please," said Mrs. Gilroy, perfectly calmly. Then Durham sent for Inspector Groom, and, pending his arrival, Mrs. Gilroy signed the paper, with Durham and the clerk as witnesses. She then fell asleep, and Durham went out to receive Groom. They talked together for some time, then entered the room. Mrs. Gilroy was lying on the floor in convulsions, and laughed when she saw them.

"Good Heavens!" cried Groom. "She has poisoned herself!"

"I have taken drows," gasped Mrs. Gilroy. "That's my dukkerin!" and died hard.

CHAPTER XXIII

A YEAR LATER

It was midsummer, and Miss Berengaria's garden was a sight. Such splendid colors, such magnificent blossoms, such triumphs of the floricultural art, had never been seen outside the walls of a flower show. The weather was exceedingly warm, and on this particular day there was not a cloud in the sky. Miss Plantagenet pottered about her garden, clipping and arranging as usual, and seemed to be in the very best of spirits. And well she might be, for this was a red-letter day with her.

Under the shade of a large elm-tree sat Durham, in the most unprofessional tweed suit, and beside him, Alice, radiant in a white dress. She looked particularly pretty, and her face was a most becoming color. Every now and then she would glance at the watch on her wrist, and Durham laughed as he saw how frequently she referred to it.

"The train won't be here for another hour," he said, smiling. "You will see Bernard soon enough, Miss Malleson."

"Oh, dear me," sighed Alice, "can I ever see him soon enough? It seems like eleven years instead of eleven months since he went away. I wish he hadn't gone."

"Well," said Durham, following with his eyes the spare little figure of Miss Berengaria flitting about amongst the flowers, "I didn't approve of it at the time, and I told Conniston so. But now I think it was just as well Bernard did keep to his original intention and go to the Front. It is advisable there should be an interval between the new life and the old."

"The new life?" asked Alice, flus.h.i.+ng.

"He is coming home to be married to you," said Durham.

"And with a bullet in his arm," sighed Alice. "I shall have to nurse him back to health before we can marry."

"Miss Randolph will be occupied in the same pleasing task with Conniston," replied Durham, lazily, "and I envy both my friends."

"You needn't," laughed Miss Malleson, opening her sunshade which cast a delicate pink hue on her cheeks. "Poor Bernard has been wounded and Lord Conniston has been down with enteric fever."

"I am glad they have got off so easily. Bernard might have been shot, you know."

Alice shuddered and grew pale. "Don't, Mr. Durham!"

"That was why I feared about his going out," said he. "I thought it would be a pity, after all he pa.s.sed through, that he should be killed by a Boer bullet. But he has only temporarily lost the use of his arm; he has been mentioned for gallantry in the despatches; and he is coming home to marry the most charming girl in the world--I quote from his own letter," finished Durham, smiling.

"And Lord Conniston?"