The Last Tenant by B. L. Farjeon read by Various Part 2/2 | Full Audio Book

CHAPTER XXVIII THE LAST TENANT Rivers went forward to meet her, and taking her hand led her to where we were standing. Dark as it was, I saw that she was greatly agitated, and the increase of our party did not lessen her agitation. You perceive, Rivers commenced, that it is as I said, there are four of us, and we are determined to know the truth about your master and what is going on in that gloomy house, which, as I just remarked to my friends, resembles a prison. I will tell you everything," said Madame Bernstein, her voice shaking with fear. Why should I not, when you have promised to reward me? I have done nothing wrong. Do not speak so sharply to her," said Ronald to Rivers. You frighten her. Then he turned to the old woman and spoke to her in French, and his manner was so kind and his voice so gentle that she soon forgot her fears. You shall be well rewarded, he said to her, I promise you, on the honor of a gentleman. We have left a little money with your brother and his pretty little girl, and tomorrow we will send a doctor to see him. If it were day instead of night, you would know that I am blind, and you would trust me. I trust you now, sir," said Madame Bernstein. But this gentleman," she indicated to Rivers, speaks to me as if I had committed a crime. I will answer you anything. It is because I am poor that I have served M. Nesbitt, and if I have taken a little bit of food for my dying brother and the child, I hope you will protect me from the anger of Mr. Nesbitt. He is a hard man. He would have no mercy. We will protect and befriend you," said Ronald. Have no fear. My friends here do not understand French very well, so we will converse now in English. Express yourself as well as you can. We all wish to hear what you have to say, and we all are kindly disposed towards you. Mr. Rivers, you are so much more experienced than ourselves that the command must be left in your hands, but I beg you to moderate your tone when you address Madame." With all the pleasure in life," said Rivers cheerfully. Bless your heart, Madame. You need not be frightened of me. If I speak sharp, it's only a way I've got. Don't you take any notice of it, but begin at the beginning and go straight on. How long have you been in service here?" Ever since M. Nesbitt. First came," replied Madame Bernstein. It is years ago. I don't know how many. And he bought the house and wanted a woman to look after it. When he goes away to England or France, I attend to everything. She stopped here as if at a loss how to proceed. We shall get to the bottom of things all the quicker," said Rivers, if I ask you questions. Has there been any other person beside yourself in Mr. Nesbitt's service?" No one else. It is I alone who have served him. Does he live here alone? Oh, no. When he first came, he brought a lady with him. And she is still in the house? Oh, yes. She's still in the house. Poor lady. Instinctively, we all turned our eyes to the window which Rivers had declared to be the window of the room occupied by a lady. Even Ronald's sightless eyes were turned in that direction. That is her bedroom?" Rivers asked. Yes, it is there she sleeps. Hold hard a bit," he cried. She is awake? The occupant of the room had moved the light, and we saw her shadow on the blind. We looked up in silence, expecting that something strange would occur. I cannot explain the cause of this impression. But in subsequent conversation with my companions, they confessed that they had experienced the same feeling of expectation as myself. What did occur was this. The blind was pulled up, and the window opened. And by the window stood a female figure in a white nightdress, stretching out her arms toward us. It was not possible that she could see us. But her imploring attitude seemed like an appeal to us to save her. From some terrible danger. And it powerfully affected me. I put my finger to my lips to warn Bob and Rivers against uttering any exclamation of surprise, and I placed myself in such a position that Madame Bernstein could not see what we saw. Presently the female's arms dropped to her side, and she sank upon a chair by the window, and sat there while Rivers continued his examination. "'Why do you say, poor lady?' asked Rivers. "'Is she suffering in any way?' "'She is much to be pitied,' replied Madame Bernstein. "'So young and beautiful as she is.' "'But explain, Madame. You speak in enigmas. Does your master oppress her? Is he cruel to her?' "'I do not know.' "'She does not complain.' "'But I would not trust him with a child of mine.' "'Is she his child, then?' "'Oh, no. But he has authority over her. He has never struck her. He has never spoken a harsh word to her. Still, I would not trust him.' "'We shall get at it presently, I suppose,' said Rivers impatiently. "'What is the lady's name?' "'Mademoiselle Mursac.' "'Her Christian name?' "'I have not heard it all the years that I have been in the house. There is no reason why I should hear it. Mademoiselle Mursac. Is that not a sufficient name?' "'It must content us for the present. If she is not his daughter, she is doubtless some relation.' "'It cannot be. He has himself declared that she is not. I ventured one day—it is now a long time ago—to ask him. And he answered me angrily, and bade me attend to my duties, and nothing more. He repented a little while afterward, and came to me and inquired why I had put the question to him. "'It was a thought, sir,' I said. "'Can you see any likeness between us?' he asked. "'I answered no, and there is no likeness. She is fair. He is dark. There is not the least resemblance between them. May we say that she is afflicted?' "'Sorely afflicted. She has no memory. She seems to have no mind. From one day to another she cannot recollect. Each day is new to her. She has no memory. Even her own name is strange to her. When my master is here, I see her only in his presence, and am not allowed to speak to her. When he is absent, I see more of her. It is necessary. She has no one else to attend to her, but even then she utters but a very few words. Once only did we have a conversation while the master was away. It was against his commands, but I could not help it. He gives his orders what I shall do during his absence, and I am to do those things and nothing more. To give her her meals, to give her her medicine, not to allow her to pass the gates. For years she has not been outside those walls.' "'You are wandering, madam. Once you had a conversation with her, inform us what was said.' I pitied her, and asked her whether she had no friends she wished to see. "'Friends,' she said, and looked at me wonderingly. "'The world is dead. I could have shed tears. There was such misery in her voice. I addressed her by name. "'Mursack,' she exclaimed. "'Who is Mademoiselle Mursack?' "'But Mademoiselle,' I said, "'it is you.' "'Are you sure of that?' she asked. "'Why, yes,' I answered. "'It is certain.' She shuddered and said, "'I had dreams, I think, when I was a child. But I am an old woman now.' "'Mademoiselle,' I cried, "'you are young. You are beautiful.' "'It is you who are dreaming,' she said. "'I am an old woman. The world is dead. This house is my tomb.' That is all that passed. She would not speak another word. If I had dared, if I had not been poor, and had known what to do, and how it was to be done, I would have tried to find her friends. For what hope of recovery is there for her in such a place as this? For me, who have not long to live, I am seventy-five, it does not matter. I have lived here all my life, and I shall die here. But there is no other place for me to die in. And I am content that it should be so. But even I had my bright years when I was a young woman. I had a lover, I had a husband, I had children. They are all dead now. And but for my dying brother and his little girl, I am alone. I was not so beautiful as Mademoiselle. I was not a lady as she is. That is plainly to be seen. At her time of life, she should be bright and happy. She should have a lover. She should have friends, companions. They might wake her up. For though she is not dead, she might as well be. The old woman spoke very feelingly, and I patted her on the shoulder. Thank you, she said, as though I had bestowed a gift upon her. She is a French lady? Questioned Rivers. Oh no, she is English. English, but her name is French. It may not be hers. She is perhaps sent here to be forgotten. It is sad, very sad. Apart from this loss of memory, from this forgetfulness of herself, is she in health? She is strong. She is well otherwise. It is only her mind that is gone. She gripped my hand once. It was the grip of a strong young girl. She is life. She is well formed. If I had been like her when I was her age, I should have been proud. I brought some flowers to the house one day. Who are these for? My master asked. I thought mademoiselle would like them, I answered. He frowned, and taking them in his hands, crushed them and threw them to the ground. That is not part of your duties, he said. I brought no more flowers. There are some strange things. Some things I cannot understand. Do you come to help the poor lady? Are you related to her? We are not related to her, but we will help her if it's in our power. Heaven will reward you for it. What do you mean by saying there are strange things, things you cannot understand? For one, why does the master say she will not live when, but for her loss of memory, she is strong and well? Oh, he says that, does he? Yes, and he has brought a friend with him now, a celebrated doctor, because, as I heard him say, she is sinking. What does that mean? Ah, said Rivers, in a significant tone, which we understood. What does that mean indeed? It means mischief, Madame Bernstein. It is what I think. Now I have opened my heart. I do not care what happens to me. This celebrated doctor has been brought from England with him, is no better than my master is. They are a pair. But what can she do against them alone? She is no longer alone, Madame, said Ronald, with a strange earnestness in his voice. The lady is beautiful, you say. Very fair? As fair as a lily, sir. Can you tell me the color of her eyes? They are blue as a summer sky, and there is sometimes a light as sweet in them. What would be her age, in your opinion, Madame? Not more than 24, though she suffers so. She sometimes looks like a maid of 18. When your master is absent, he leaves medicine for her to take? He places this medicine in your charge? Is it a liquid? It is a liquid. And its color, Madame? White. It is clear? Has it a sediment? It is perfectly clear, like water. How often does she take it? Once every day in the evening. Does she take it willingly? Quite willingly. There was a brief silence here, and I observed Ronald pass his hand across his eyes. It was he who asked these questions, and rivers did not interpose. Madame Bernstein, did you ever taste this medicine? Ah, sir, you make me remember what I had forgotten. I am old, forgive me. It was this, also, that was in my mind when I said there were strange things I could not understand. It happened two years ago. Mademoiselle had left nearly half the dose in the glass and had gone to bed. I took it up and tasted it. It was as water in my mouth, and I do not know why. I drank what remained. It is not likely to harm me, I thought, for it does not harm Mademoiselle. I went to bed and slept soundly. In the morning when I awoke, it was with a strange feeling. I had some things to do. I could not remember what they were. I dressed myself and sat in my chair as helpless as a babe. The clock struck more than once, and still I sat there, trying to think what it was I had to do. At last the clock struck twelve, and I started to my feet as though I had just woke out of a waking sleep, and went about my work as usual. Ronald did not continue his questions. His attention seemed to be drawn to another matter. His head was bent forward in the attitude of listening. I do not recollect what it was that Rivers said at this point, but he had spoken a few words when Ronald cried, Be silent! His voice was agitated, and the same feeling of expectation stole upon me as I had experienced before the female in her white nightdress opened her bedroom window and stretched out her arms toward us. Madam Bernstein, said Ronald then, the young lady we have been speaking of is a musician? Yes, sir. She plays in the night sometimes. I have heard her, sir, on two or three occasions. The instrument she plays on is the zither. Yes, sir. She is playing at the present moment. If you say so, sir. My hearing is not so good as yours. It is Beatrice who is playing, said Ronald, and his tone now was very quiet. I knew she was not dead, and that we should meet again. End of chapter 28 Chapter 29 of The Last Tenant This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by Cindy Morton The Last Tenant By B. L. Fargeon Dr. Cooper is impressed. These startling words caused us to throw aside the restraint we had placed upon our movements. We darted forward to the gate, from which spot we could just catch the faint sounds of music. The truth burst upon me like a flash of light. The mystery of Beatrice's supposed death was made clear to me, and the unspeakable villainy of which Mr. Nesbitt was guilty was revealed. But alas for poor Barbara, who was eagerly waiting to embrace her sister Molly. Madam Bernstein joined us at the gate, and cautioned us to be careful not to speak aloud. We were moved to a safe distance, and were about to discuss our plans and decide upon our course of action, when Ronald settled the matter for us. Madam Bernstein, he said, addressing her, the lady is a dear friend of mine. She was to have been my wife. A foul wrong has been done to her, and Providence has directed our steps here to save her. We must enter that ill-fated house tonight. Tonight? she exclaimed. Now, this moment, said Ronald with decision. But the danger! We are four men to two, said Ronald. If I place my hands on one of the monsters, I will account for him, blind as I am. We are armed, and no danger threatens us. An innocent lady's life is in peril. She lies at the mercy of wretches who have no heart or conscience, and a moment's delay may be fatal. You shall be well paid for the service, madam. It is not that I shall be well paid, she interrupted. I have a heart. I have a conscience. It is because the master is a dangerous man. But you shall have your way. The just God will help you. Tread softly. Make no noise. Mr. Elsdale is right, whispered Rivers. To me, as we followed Madam Bernstein, strike the iron while it's hot. There's a surprise in store for two scoundrels tonight. We succeeded in making our entrance without awakening the enemy. What now shall be done? asked Madam Bernstein. Ronald answered her. Mademoiselle Mursac, it is not her name, but that matters little. Has no aversion to you, madam? None, none, she replied eagerly. You will go to her room and remain with her till you hear from us. If she is awake, encourage her to sleep. She must know nothing till daylight. Should it be needed, call to us for assistance. Yes, yes. You will show us the rooms in which your master and his friend from London sleep, and then you will leave us. Ronald turned to us. I and my uncle will keep watch outside Mr. Nesbitt's door. If he comes out to us, I shall know how to deal with him. You, Mr. Rivers and Mr. Emery will introduce yourselves to Dr. Cooper and endeavor to force a confession from him. If he will not speak, well, you are a match for him. Bind him, so that he shall be unable to move. Then join us, and we will make Mr. Nesbitt secure. He must administer no more stupefying drugs to his stepdaughter. His power over her is at an end. Have you any objection to my plan, Mr. Rivers? None. It is the best that can be adopted. Let's set about it. With noiseless footsteps, we ascended the stairs to the sleeping apartments. Madam Bernstein leading the way. She pointed out the rooms to us. That is the master's. That is his friend's. Then she left us and went to Beatrice's room. Bob and Ronald took their station outside Mr. Nesbitt's door, and I observed that Bob held his revolver in his hand. No indication reached us that we had disturbed the inmates. It is our turn now, Rivers whispered to me. I think I know how to manage our customer. He tried the door, and finding it locked, smiled as he said, Locks himself in. Doesn't trust his host. A good sign. He did not knock, but kept fumbling at the handle in order to attract Dr. Cooper's attention. Presently succeeding, we heard the doctor get out of bed. Who is there? He asked softly, his ear at the door. Let me in. Rivers replied in a whisper. I have something to say to you. Why do you lock your door? Had Rivers spoken above a whisper, Dr. Cooper would have detected him. But whispers are very much alike, and it is not easy to distinguish a man's voice by them. Wait a moment, said Dr. Cooper from within. I will strike a light. This accomplished, he opened the door, which, as we glided in, Rivers quickly closed and locked. Dr. Cooper had retreated from the door and stood holding the candle above his head. With an exclamation of alarm, he let the candle slip from his hand, and we were in darkness. What a clumsy fellow you are, exclaimed Rivers in a jocose tone. Light it again, Mr. Emery. I have got Dr. Cooper quite safe. And I saw, when I had picked up the candle and lighted it, Dr. Cooper standing quite still with his arms pinned to his side from behind by Rivers. I placed the candle out of the doctor's reach, and Rivers released him. Dr. Cooper was in his nightshirt and presented anything but a pleasant picture. Rivers, on the contrary, had an eerie lightness about him, which was new to me. His eyes shone, and he rubbed his hands together as if he were taking part in a peculiarly agreeable function. On a table by the bedside were a glass and a bottle of whiskey, half empty. Rivers put the bottle to his nose. Scotch, he said. I always drink scotch myself. Who are you? Dr. Cooper managed to say. What do you want? All in good time, doctor, replied Rivers. It's no good commencing in the middle of the game. You haven't the pleasure of my acquaintance yet. But you know this, gentlemen. I have seen him once before, said Dr. Cooper with a troubled glance at me, and I am positive you must have enjoyed his society. He proves that he enjoyed yours by his anxiety to renew the intimacy. He is a private gentleman, and I am a private detective, and we have come a long way to see you. But you will catch cold standing there with only your shirt on. Will you get into your clothes or into bed before we have our chat? You would like to dress? You shall. Softly, softly, I will hand you your clothes, taking the precaution to empty your pockets first. By what right? Steady does it, doctor. If you talk of rights, we shall talk of wrongs. That's a sensible man. On go the trousers. On goes the waistcoat. On goes the coat, and we're ready for business. Now, how shall it be? Friends or foes? You don't answer? Very good. We'll give you time. Take a chair and make yourself comfortable. No, doctor, no, don't take your whiskey neat. As an experienced topper myself, I insist upon putting a little water into it, and we'll pour half the spirit back into the bottle. Moderation and economy, that is the order of the day. You can't make up your mind to speak? Very well. We'll see if we can loosen your tongue. I intend to make a clean breast of it, and you may feel disposed presently to follow a good example. Give me your best attention. I am going to open the case, and if I make mistakes, I'm open to correction. Some few years ago, there lived in the north of London a gentleman. We'll be polite, if nothing else. A gentleman and his stepdaughter. Name of the gentleman, Nesbitt. Name of the stepdaughter, Beatrice. The house they inhabited was in Lamb's Terrace, and a gentleman of means could not have selected a more desolate locality to reside in. Miss Beatrice's mother was dead, and in her will she appointed her second husband, she couldn't very well appoint her first, doctor, guardian to her child, with a handsome provision for the maintenance and education of the young lady. The bulk of her fortune she left to her daughter, who was to come into possession of it when she was of age. It was a large fortune, some fifty or sixty thousand pounds, I believe, and I wish such a bit of luck had fallen to my share. But we can't all be born with silver spoons in our mouths, can we, doctor? That this fortune should have been left to the lady instead of the gentleman annoyed and angered him, and he determined to have the fingering of it. Now how could that be managed? There was only one way, according to his thinking, and that was to get rid of the lady, because it was set down in the will that, in the event of the young lady's death before she came of age, the money should revert to him. He laid his plans artfully, but there was a flaw in them. As you will presently confess, I don't pretend to understand how it was that he set about encompassing his desire in the crooked way he did. Perhaps he found the young lady hard to manage, because he had some sort of sneaking feeling for her. Perhaps he thought it would not be half so bad if he got rid of someone else in her place, and so contrived that it should be believed that his own stepdaughter, who was dead, instead of the poor, friendless young girl of her own age and build. Dr. Cooper shifted uneasily in his chair, and an expression of amazement stole into his face. I see that I am interesting you. This poor, friendless girl was in his service in Lamb's Terrace at the time, her name Molly. So what did this Nesbitt do but send his stepdaughter from the house and take a ticket for her to some part of the continent, precise place unknown, but doubtless where she was pretty well out of the world? He was to follow her, and they were to live in foreign parts. Meanwhile, the poor girl Molly was left in the London house, and on the morning of his intended departure, was found dead, not in her own bed, but in the young lady's, with the young lady's clothes on and about her. The cause of death was said to be asphyxiation by escape of gas in the young lady's bedroom. The Nesbitts kept no society in London and had no friends or acquaintances, so there was no one to dispute his statement that it was his stepdaughter who was dead. Now, he knew that an inquest would have to be held and that a certificate of the cause of death would have to be produced. So what does he do but go to a miserable wretch of a doctor or apothecary living or starving, the latter I suspect, in the neighborhood of Lamb's Terrace and by plausible words and bribe induce him to give this necessary death certificate. Name of doctor, Cooper. Fire away, doctor, if you have anything to say. It has been done again and again, said Dr. Cooper, sucking his parched lips, but I can't speak till I've had a drink. Here it is, said Rivers, mixing a glass, sparing with the whiskey and liberal with the water, and handing it to the wretched man. Don't swallow it all at once. Moisten your lips with it now and then. It has been done again and again, repeated Dr. Cooper. A doctor is called in who has not attended the patient. He sees that the cause of death is unmistakable and he gives the certificate. It is not a crime. I am not so sure of that, said Rivers in a dry tone. Anyway, it is too late now to prove the true cause of poor Molly's death, for the body has been cremated. It was not a case of illness, continued Dr. Cooper. No doctor had been in the house to see the girl before that morning, and I only did what any doctor would have done. You did, corrected Rivers, what no respectable doctor would dream of doing. I was in debt, pursued Dr. Cooper. I was in trouble on all sides. I had a large family to support and no food to give them. He came to me and I was glad to earn a pound or two. I had never seen him before that morning. I had never even heard of him. What is this story you're telling me of another girl being put into his daughter's bed? It is false. I do not believe it. It is true, I said, and it can be proved, for the young lady lives. May I drop dead off this chair if I knew it, cried Dr. Cooper with trembling, outstretched hands. How was I to know it when I had never seen the lady, when I had never seen the girl, when I'd never seen him before that morning? Notwithstanding the feeling of loathing with which he inspired me, I had no doubt that he was speaking the truth and that he was not implicated in the conspiracy. He presented a pitiable and degrading spectacle as he sat trembling and writhing on his chair. I will go on to the end, said Rivers, and you will find that you have something else to explain. The inquest was held and you gave false evidence at it. You can't prove that it was false, said Dr. Cooper. There is no body to exhume and there is no one to give evidence against me. You may be right in the other parts of the story, but you will never be able to prove yourself right in this. I know sufficient of the lot and know that no crime can be brought home to me for which I can be made to suffer. Perhaps you do know the law, said Rivers dryly, and I fancy that he felt himself at a disadvantage here. And perhaps you don't. One thing is certain, you may escape, but there is no possibility of escape for the infernal scoundrel you have served and who has brought you over from London to assist him in some other diabolical scheme. Stop a minute, exclaimed Dr. Cooper, bending forward and fixing his bloodshot eyes on Rivers' face. Didn't I see you on the boat? It is more than probable, answered Rivers with a sly chuckle, for I was there. You followed us? Every step of the way. If you had looked for me, you would have seen me on the train. What do you say now? Are we friends or foes? Friends, cried Dr. Cooper eagerly. Friends, I'm on your side. I will conceal nothing. Was it my fancy that there was a movement in the wall between the room we were in and that occupied by Mr. Nesbitt? It must have been, I thought, for upon looking more closely, I saw nothing to confirm the fancy and I ascribed it to the fever and excitement of the scene of which I was a witness. You are wise, said Rivers. Though I take it upon myself to declare that, with or without your assistance, we can bring his guilt home to him. There are others in the house, as well as ourselves. Two of our friends are at this moment stationed outside Mr. Nesbitt's door. He is doomed, if ever a man was. If he knows a prayer, it is time for him to say it. End of chapter 29 Chapter 30 Of The Last Tenant This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Read by Cindy Morton The Last Tenant by B. L. Varshian Mr. Nesbitt takes a decided step. The evidence, then, you gave at the inquest, continued Rivers, whether false or true, you see, I am not disposed to be hard on you, was conclusive, and doubtless you were well paid for it. In the eyes of the law, Mr. Nesbitt's stepdaughter was dead, and he came into her fortune. The simplicity of the whole thing would be amusing if it were not tragic. But his task was not yet finished. He had committed an error of judgment in killing the wrong woman, the lady whom he had robbed of her fortune still lived, and it was imperative that he should get rid of her. He must have been in fear of detection, or he would have adopted some violent and summary measures to compass his objects. Being fearful of consequences, he determined to kill her slowly, and it was also necessary that he should destroy her memory, that he should make her mind a blank, for if by any chance the news of the tragedy which had taken place in Lamb's Terrace reached her knowledge, the game would be lost. According to the way I reason it out, he hoped that the drugs he administered to her would cause her to die a presumably natural death, but the lady was obstinate and refused to die as he wished. At length, weary of waiting, he calls you in to assist him. You are on the wrong track, said Dr. Cooper. I have never seen the lady. You are in your right senses, I presume, said Rivers. The lady happens to be in this house. In this house? Do you wish us to believe you have not seen her? On my honor, I have not seen her. At this reference to his honor, a queer smile crossed Rivers' lips. There is a female here, as I was given to understand by Mr. Nesbitt, one of his domestics, who was indisposed. But I have seen no one except Mr. Nesbitt and an old woman who cooks for him, and with whom I have not exchanged a single word. Mr. Nesbitt informed me that he wanted my assistance in certain chemical experiments he intended to make in Switzerland, and I consented to accompany him. It was a sudden proposition, and I had to make up my mind on the spur of the moment. When I first made his acquaintance, he promised to assist me and set me up in a good way of business. But after the inquest, I lost sight of him, and his promises were not fulfilled. Coming upon me suddenly a week ago in London, he said if I would assist him that he would fulfill his old promises. I would have come with him without this assurance. I was doing no business in London, and was in debt. I have always been in debt everywhere. I am the most unfortunate wretch in existence. Now you have the truth of it. What were you and Mr. Nesbitt doing tonight before you went to bed? What do you mean? It is a plain question. You and he were together in this room. You poured some drops from a vial into a glass. Mr. Nesbitt took the glass from you, dipped his finger into it, and tasted the stuff. Then he threw the contents of the glass out of the window. You know everything, guessed Dr. Cooper, falling back in his chair in consternation. You are not far out. What were you doing? What was in the vial? A deadly poison. The drops I poured into the glass would put an end to a man's life in a few seconds, and it would be next to impossible to discover the cause of death. An interesting experiment. If it would put an end to a man's life, it would put an end to a woman's. Are you a double-dyed knave or an egregious fool? Do you not see the crime your accomplice was mediating? I am not his accomplice, cried Dr. Cooper in a violent tone. He told me he wanted to try it upon some animals. A likely story. This deadly poison was to be administered to his stepdaughter. He paved the way by informing the old woman in this house that the young lady is sinking fast. He is caught in his own trap. Where is the vial? Mr. Nesbitt has it. At this moment, I saw confirmed the fancy I had entertained of a movement in the wall between the bedrooms. A panel was softly and noiselessly pushed, and Mr. Nesbitt's face appeared. It was of an ashen whiteness. He must have overheard every word of the conversation. As his eyes met mine, he swiftly retreated. The panel closed, and then came the sound of a snap of a lock. What was that? cried Rivers, starting up. I told him hurriedly what I had seen, and he went to the wall and examined it. It is a cunning contrivance, he said, and is hidden somewhere in these wide headings. He pushed against the wall without effect. You too, he added grimly to Dr. Cooper, might never have left the house alive. Let us finish the night's work. You will come out with us, leave the door open, and set that chair against it, in case he slips in here and tries to make his escape. We will take the law into our own hands. I never travel without the Darby's. He took a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and put them back with a satisfied smile. We joined Ronald and Bob in the passage and questioned them. Mr. Nesbitt had made no attempt to open his door, but Bob had peeped through the keyhole a few minutes after he'd taken up his station, being attracted by the glimmer of a light in the room, which he accepted as proof that Mr. Nesbitt was awake. By means of this light, he had obtained a partial view of the room, but before he could catch sight of Mr. Nesbitt, the keyhole was masked from within, and he could see nothing more. Mr. Nesbitt! Rivers called out as he rapped smartly at the door. We listened for an answer, but received none, and Rivers repeated his summons several times in vain. No movement within the room reached our ears. We did not make more noise than was absolutely necessary, but it brought Madam Bernstein out, to whom Ronald explained what we were doing, and hoped we were not alarming Beatrice. Oh no, said Madam Bernstein, she is sleeping like an angel. Did she know her lover was near, I thought, and that she was saved from the dread peril with which she had been threatened? The mysterious adventure which had led up to the present strange scene in a foreign land warranted such a thought. Little, indeed, do we know of the unseen world by which we are surrounded. Little do we understand of the occult influences which direct the most pregnant actions of our lives. Often during the past twenty-four hours had I looked toward the ground in the anticipation of seeing the spectral figure which had prompted every step I had taken in this mystery, but I had seen nothing of it, and I was tempted to believe, its mission being accomplished, that it had left me forever, though a more fitting place might have been found to mention it. I may state here that my impression was correct. From that day to this, when in my London home I am engaged in writing the particulars of the mysterious crime which through the agency of the supernatural visitation I was the means of bringing to light, I have never set eyes on the supernatural apparition. I return now to my companions who, in the silence of Mr. Nesbitt, were debating what it was best to do. If we burst open the door of his bedroom we should awake Beatrice, and the shock might produce serious consequences. He may have escaped by the window, suggested Bob. Rivers shook his head. He could not do so without breaking his limbs. This floor is some distance from the ground, and a dead straight wall stretches down the back of the house. There may be other panels in the walls of this room, opening in other directions. That is more likely. It is stupid to wait here and do nothing. I have picked a lock before tonight. Here goes. Down he plumped on his knees, and set to work with his own knife and ours which we handed him. One or another of us held a candle to the keyhole while he worked. It was a long job, and a tough job, and he was at it for thirty or forty minutes, but he managed it at last. Be prepared for a rush, he said, in a tone of warning, as he slowly pushed the door open. No such experience waited us. The door was wide open and we stood together on the threshold. He has left the candle alight at all events, said Rivers. Follow me and look out. We entered the room close upon each other's heels. Leaning back in an armchair by the table was Mr. Nesbitt. His eyes were closed and we were face to face with the murderer. His features were perfectly calm and composed. How can he sleep so peacefully at such a moment as this? Whispered Bob. Yes, said Rivers, stepping forward. He sleeps peacefully. Dr. Cooper also stepped forward and put an ear to Mr. Nesbitt's mouth and his hand to his heart. Dead? asked Rivers. Dead, replied Dr. Cooper. Rivers lifted from the carpet an empty vial, which had fallen from the dead man's hand, and held it up to the doctor with a questioning look. Dr. Cooper nodded. But little more remains to be told. Beatrice was taken back to England and, under medical care, recovered her memory, but she recollects very little of the years she passed in peril of her life. The chief part of her fortune was saved and she and Ronald are married. Barbara is in their service. The poor child suffered much when the truth was revealed to her, but time healed her sorrow and she has a happy home. Dr. Cooper disappeared from London and none of us knew, or cared to know, what became of him. Ronald provided for Madam Bernstein. My good wife and I live in our old home. We never intend to move. Nothing in the world could tempt Maria to enter an empty house. Between ourselves and Mr. and Mrs. Elsdale exists a firm friendship, and we, seldom without Bob, are frequently together, but we never refer to the strange incidents which have ended so happily. The End End of Chapter 30 End of The Last Tenant By B. L. Fargeon