CHAPTER XXX

WHO FELL INTO THE TRAP?

However closely one may study the fair sex, there is no understanding

them in the least. No one can say how a woman will act in a given

situation; for feminine actions are based less on logical foundations

than on the emotion of the moment.

Diana had never liked Lydia; when the American girl became her

stepmother she hated her, and not only said as much but showed in her

every action that she believed what she said. She declared that she

would be glad to see Lydia deprived of her money and put into jail! The

punishment would be no more than she deserved.

Yet when these things came to pass; when, by the discovery that Vrain

yet lived, Lydia lost her liberty; and when, as connected with the

conspiracy, she was arrested on a criminal warrant and put into prison,

Diana was the only friend she had. Miss Vrain declared that her

stepmother was innocent, visited her in prison, and engaged a lawyer to

defend her. Lucian could not forbear pointing out the discrepancy

between Diana's past sentiments and her present actions; but Miss Vrain

was quite ready with an excuse.

"I am only doing my duty," she said. "In herself I like Lydia as little

as ever I did, but I think we have suspected her wrongly in being

connected with this conspiracy, so I wish to help her if possible. And

after all," added Diana, "she is my father's wife," as if that fact

extenuated all.

"He has reason to know it," replied Lucian bitterly. "If it had not been

for Lydia, your father would not have left his home for a lunatic

asylum, nor would Clear have been murdered."

"I quite agree with you, Lucian; but some good has come out of this

evil, for if things had not been as they are, you and I would never have

met."

"Egad! that is true!" said Lucian, kissing her. "It's an ill wind that

blows nobody any good."

So Diana played the part of a Good Samaritan towards her stepmother, and

helped her to bear the evil of being thrust into prison. Lydia wrote to

her father in Paris, but received no reply, and therefore was without a

friend in the world save Diana. Later on she was admitted to bail, and

Diana took her to the hotel in Kensington, there to wait for the arrival

of Mr. Clyne. His absence and silence were both unaccountable.

"I hope nothing is wrong with poppa," wept Lydia. "As a rule, he is

always smart in replying, and if he has seen about Ercole's death and my

imprisonment in the papers, I'm sure he will be over soon."

While she was thus waiting for her father, and Link in every way was

seeking evidence against her, Mrs. Clear received an answer to her

message. In the same column of the _Daily Telegraph_, and in the same

cypher, there appeared a message from Wrent that he would meet Mrs.

Clear at No. 13 Geneva Square.

Link was delighted when Mrs. Clear showed him this, and rubbed his hands

with much pleasure. Affairs were about to be brought to a crisis, and as

Link was the moving spirit in the matter, his vanity was sufficiently

gratified as to make him quite amiable.

"We've got him this time, Mr. Denzil," he said, with enthusiasm. "You

and I and a couple of policemen will go down to that house in Geneva

Square--by the front, sir, by the front."

"Mrs. Clear, also?" questioned Lucian, wishing to be enlightened on all

points.

"No. She'll come in by the back, down the cellarway, as Wrent expects

her to come. Then he'll follow in the same path and walk right into the

trap."

"But won't the two be seen climbing over that fence in the daytime?"

asked the barrister doubtfully.

"Who said anything about the daytime, Mr. Denzil? I did not, and Wrent

knows too much to risk himself at a time that he can be seen from the

windows of the adjacent houses. No! no! The meeting with Mrs. Clear is

to take place in the front room at ten o'clock, when it will be quite

dark. You, I, and the policemen will hide in what was the bedroom, and

listen to what Wrent has to say to Mrs. Clear. We'll give him rope

enough to hang himself, sir, and then pounce out and nab him."

"Well, he won't show much fight if he is Mr. Vrain."

"I don't believe he is Mr. Vrain," retorted the detective bluntly.

"I am doubtful of that, also," admitted Lucian, "but you know Vrain is

now out of the asylum, and, for the time being, has been left to his own

devices. The reply to the cypher did not appear until he was in that

position. Supposing, after all, this mysterious Wrent proves to be this

unhappy man?"

"In that case, he'll have to pay for his whistle, sir."

"You mean in connection with the conspiracy?"

"Yes, and perhaps with the murder of Clear; but we don't know if the

so-called Wrent committed the crime. For such reason, Mr. Denzil, I wish

to overhear what he says to Mrs. Clear. It is as well to give him enough

rope to hang himself with."

"Can you trust Mrs. Clear?"

"Absolutely. She knows on which side her bread is buttered. Her only

chance of getting free from her share of the matter is to turn Queen's

evidence, and she intends to do so."

"What did she say about Vrain being Wrent?"

"Well, sir," said Link, putting his head on one side, and looking at

Lucian with an odd expression, "you had better wait till the man's

caught before I answer that question. Then, maybe, you won't require an

answer."

"It is very probable I won't," replied Lucian drily. "What time am I to

see you to-night?"

"I'll call for you at nine o'clock sharp, and we'll go across to the

house at once. I have the key in my pocket now. Peacock gave it to me

this morning. The scene will be quite dramatic."

"I hope it won't prove to be Vrain," said Lucian restlessly, for he

thought how grieved Diana would be.

"I hope not," answered Link curtly, "but there's no knowing. However, if

the old man does get into trouble he can plead insanity. His having been

in the asylum of Jorce is a strong card for him to play. Good-day, Mr.

Denzil. I'll see you to-night at nine o'clock sharp."

"Good-day," replied Lucian, and the pair parted for the time being.

Lucian did not go near Diana that day. In the first place, he did not

wish to see Lydia, for whom he had no great love; and in the second, he

was afraid to speak to Diana as to the possibility of her father being

Wrent.

Diana, as a good daughter should, held firmly to the idea that her

father could not behave in such a way; and as a sensible woman, she did

not think that a man with so few of his senses about him could have

acted the dual part with which he was credited without, in some measure,

betraying himself.

Lucian was somewhat of this opinion himself, yet he had an uneasy

feeling that Vrain might prove to be the culprit. The fact of Vrain's

being often away from Mrs. Clear's house in Bayswater, and Wrent absent

in the same way from Mrs. Bensusan's house in Jersey Street, appeared

strange, and argued a connection between the two. Again, the resemblance

between them was most extraordinary and unaccountable.

On the whole, Lucian was not satisfied in his mind as to what would be

the end of the matter, and had he known Mrs. Clear's address he would

have gone to question her about it. But only Link knew where the woman

was to be found, and kept that information to himself--especially from

Denzil. Now that he had the reins once more in his hands, he did not

intend that the barrister should take them again.

Punctual to the minute, Link, in a state of subdued excitement, came to

Lucian's rooms. Already he had sent his two policemen over to the house,

into which he had instructed them to enter in the quietest and most

unostentatious manner, and now came to escort the barrister across.

Lucian put on his hat at once, and the two walked out into the dark

night, for dark it was, with no moon, few stars, and a great many

clouds. A most satisfactory night for their purpose.

"All the better," said Link, casting a look round the deserted square;

"all the better for our little game. I wish to secure this fellow as

quietly as possible. Here's the door open--in with you, Mr. Denzil!"

According to instructions, a policeman had waited behind the closed

door, and at the one sharp knock of his superior opened it at once so

that the two slipped in as speedily as possible. Link had a

dark-lantern, which he used carefully, so that no light could be seen

from the window looking on to the square; and with his three companions

he went into the back room which had formerly been used by Clear as a

sleeping apartment. Here the two policemen stationed themselves in one

corner; and Link, with Lucian, waited near the door leading into the

sitting-room, so as to be ready for Mrs. Clear.

All was so dark and lonely and silent that Lucian's nerves became

over-strained, and it was as much as he could do to prevent himself from

trembling violently. In a whisper he conversed with Link.

"Have you heard anything of that girl Rhoda?" he asked.

"We have traced her to Berkshire," whispered Link. "She went back to her

gypsy kinsfolk, you know. I dare say we'll manage to lay hands on her

sooner or later."

"She is an accomplice of Wrent's, I believe."

"So do I, and I hope to make him confess as much to-night. Hush!"

Suddenly Link had laid his clasp on Lucian's wrist to command silence,

and the next moment they heard the swish-swish of a woman's dress

coming along the passage. She entered the sitting-room cautiously,

moving slowly in the darkness, and stole up to the door behind which

Lucian and the detective were hiding. The position of this she knew

well, because it was opposite the window.

"Are you there?" whispered Mrs. Clear nervously.

"Yes," replied Link in the same tone. "Myself, Mr. Denzil, and two

policemen. Keep the man in talk, and find out, if possible, if he

committed the murder."

"I hope he won't kill me," muttered Mrs. Clear. "He will, if he knows

I've betrayed him."

"That will be all right," said Link in a low, impatient voice. "We will

rush out should he prove dangerous. Get over by the window, so that we

can see a little of you and Wrent when you talk."

"No! no! Don't leave the door open! He'll see you!"

"He won't, Mrs. Clear. We'll keep back in the darkness. If he shows a

light, we'll rush him before he can use a weapon or clear out. Get back

to the window!"

"I hope I'll get through with this all right," said Mrs. Clear

nervously. "It's an awful situation," and she moved stealthily across

the floor to the window.

There was a faint gaslight outside, and the watchers could see her

figure and profile black against the slight illumination. All was still

and silent as the grave when they began their dreary watch.

The minutes passed slowly in the darkness, and there was an unbroken

silence save for the breathing of the watchers and the restless

movements of Mrs. Clear near the window. They saw her pass and repass

the square of glass, when, unexpectedly, she paused, rigid and silent.

A stealthy step was ascending the distant stair, and pacing cat-like

along the passage.

Lucian felt a tremor pass through his body as the steps of the murderer

sounded nearer and clearer. They paused at the door, and then moved

towards the window where Mrs. Clear was standing.

"Is that you?" said a low voice, which came weirdly out of the darkness.

"Yes. I have been waiting for the last half hour, Mr. Wrent," replied

the woman in nervous tones. "I am glad you have come."

"I am glad, also," said the voice harshly, "as I wish to know why you

propose to betray me."

"Because you won't pay me the money," said Mrs. Clear boldly. "And if

you don't give it to me this very night I'll go straight and tell the

police all about my husband."

"I'll kill you first!" cried the man with a snarl, and made a dash at

the woman. With a cry for help she eluded him and sprang towards the

bedroom door for protection. The next moment the four watchers were in

the room wrestling with Wrent. When he felt the grip of their hands, and

knew that he was betrayed, he cried out savagely, and fought with the

strength of two men. However, he could do little against his four

adversaries, and, worn out with the struggle, collapsed suddenly on to

the dusty floor with a motion of despair.

"Lost! lost!" he muttered. "All lost!"

Breathing hard, Link slipped back the cover of the dark lantern and

turned the light on to the face of the prisoner. Out of the darkness

started a pale face with white hair and long white beard. Lucian uttered

a cry.

"Mr. Vrain!" he said, shrinking back, "Mr. Vrain!"

"Look again," said Link, passing his hand rapidly over the face and head

of the prostrate man. Denzil did look, and uttered a second cry more

startling than the first. Wig and beard and venerable looks were all

gone, and he recognised at once who Wrent was.

"Jabez Clyne!--Jabez Clyne!" he exclaimed in astonishment.

"Yes!" cried Link triumphantly, "Jabez Clyne, conspirator and assassin!"