"For reason particular, Mr. Critic," replied Catinka, calmly. "I wished this good Herne to join my society, and give of his money. If not joining freely, I willed that he should be forced to, for his safety. See you, I gave him a rainbow feather, and such a one was found by the dead. Then, you conceive, I could swear I never put it on the body, and Mr. Herne alone could have done it, since no one but he could have a feather like that in Barnstead. So you see"--Catinka shrugged2 her shoulders--"he would be called the murderer if I spoke4. When he came to me I tell him all this, and vow5 to speak if he gives me not the money."
"A kind of blackmailing6," said Paul, wondering at the shameless way in which she spoke. "And what did Mr. Herne say to this?"
"Oh, he will give me a reply when the trial of the caught man is done."
"Dr. Lester?"
"Yes; the father of the dead lady."
"But you know Lester is innocent?"
"Eh! that may be so," replied Catinka, with another shrug3; "but how is it that I should know?"
"Because you must be aware who fired the shot."
"But no, Mr. Mexton; I tell you no! I hear the shot; I run forward; I see no one; not Mr. Lovel, not the good Herne. No one person do I see. I put the feather on the body, and run away, in case they say I kill the lady. I get into my carriage at the inn, and go back to Marborough; then to London in the railway."
"Did you see Mr. Herne at Barnstead at all?"
"No. I saw him at Marborough at the railway; then never again."
"Do you think he killed the girl?"
"I know not. He says not."
"He'd say anything to save his own neck," rejoined Paul, scornfully. "Was he in disguise when he went to Barnstead?"
"Not that I know; but he had a long coat for the rain, and there was no rain. Also a white scarf on his neck; not like the dress of a gentleman."
"I see. A disguise. He did not want to be known in Barnstead."
Catinka made a gesture of indifference8. "I know nothing of that," she said. "I have told you all."
"You have," said Paul slowly, "and very fully7. What is to prevent my telling your pretty plot about the rainbow feather?"
"I care not. If this good Herne is free, he will give me the money, since the lady is dead; if you speak, and he is killed by the law--well, he makes a will, and I get his money. It is all so; if I had been afraid, Mr. Mexton, I should have said not one word. But you see it is all right. I will get money to help my country."
Paul rose and took up his hat and cane9. He was so disgusted with the way in which she spoke that he wished to leave her as speedily as possible. "I bid you good-day, mademoiselle," he said, marching towards the door. "And allow me to tell you that I consider you a wicked woman."
"Ah," Catinka shrugged her shoulders--"now you know all, you call me bad names. You are ungrateful--you. But what care I?--not that!" and she snapped her fingers.
"You are shameless."
"Bah! bah! bah! Go away, you pig of an Englishman!" and Paul felt that there was nothing for him but to accept this advice. Without further words he walked out of the room, pursued by the scornful laughter of Catinka. Whatever love he might have felt for her beauty was killed by her confession and cruel mirth. When Mexton left Bloomsbury Square he was quite cured of his passion.
On his way back to Marborough Paul had a carriage all to himself, and he had both time and solitude10 to consider what use he should make of Catinka's statement. It would seem from what she had told him that Herne was implicated12 in the murder--perhaps had committed the deed himself. Paul was well aware of Herne's temperament13; it was that of a fanatic14 who regarded bodies less than souls; who would slay15 the one to save the other, He was of the same nature as Torquemada of Spain. If Herne fancied that Milly was likely to go astray with the too fascinating Lovel, the journalist was quite sure that he would have had no hesitation16 in killing17 the girl and would glorify18 himself for the deed. Catinka had said that the anonymous19 letters had made Herne jealous; but with this view Paul did not agree. If Herne had shot Milly Lester he had done the deed with the pitiless zeal20 of a fanatic.
"I only wonder that he did not proclaim his doings to all Barnstead," mused21 Paul. "If he fancied in his fanaticism22 that he was justified23 in killing the girl he would certainly not hesitate to acknowledge his guilt24; he would not let an innocent man suffer for his crime--though, to be sure, if he killed Milly, he did not regard the deed as a crime. His silence is the sole argument in favour of his innocence25."
And, indeed, if Herne were not guilty how could he explain his stealthy visit to Barnstead, his going thither26 in disguise, and his silence regarding his presence in the village on the night of the murder? No doubt he had come by stealth, lest Milly, hearing that he was back, should have refused to meet Lovel, and so have hidden her flirtation28 from the eyes of her future husband. There was no doubt, again, that Herne had been in the village on the night of the murder, since after receipt of the anonymous letters, he would hardly have remained ignorant at Marborough; but, on the other hand, there was no proof that he had been in the Winding29 Lane. Brent had seen Miss Clyde, but not Herne. Iris30, on going to the spot after the crime, had beheld31 Lovel, but not Herne; and in no way had the fact of Herne's presence at Barnstead come out in the evidence collected by Drek. But for the evidence of Catinka--which seemed genuine enough--it would be impossible in any way to implicate11 Darcy Herne in the crime.
After considerable thought Paul determined32 to seek out and question Lovel. That young man, on the evidence of Miss Clyde and Brent, had been with Milly almost at the hour of the murder. This was the more probable as, terrified lest he should be accused, Lovel had induced Gran Jimboy to tell a lie on his behalf. Mexton considered himself
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