King of the Castle

“I thought you’d like to hear the news, sir,” she said respectfully.

“Yes. What news?”

“I have just heard, sir, that Mrs Glyddyr is going over to Toxeter this morning to see Mr Glyddyr. Mr Trevithick has come to fetch her.”

A spasm ran through Chris, and he turned away his head.

“Yes,” he said; “suppose it is her duty.”

“And Doctor Asher is very bad indeed, sir, this morning, and two other doctors are there. He is worse than when I spoke to you last night.”

“Did you speak to me about him last night?”

“Why, surely, sir, you don’t forget? But I have heard this morning what is the matter.”

“Yes?” said Chris vacantly.

“It is very horrible, sir; but the new doctor told one of his patients that Doctor Asher’s knife slipped during the terrible examination of Mr Gartram the other day, and the cut has gone bad with some name he called it.”

“Blood poisoning!” exclaimed Chris, startled by the news; “how shocking.”

“Shocking indeed, sir. I didn’t think poor little Danmouth could have had such trouble as all this; but the Lord be thanked that the whole truth has come out at last, and you can hold up your head once more. Poor fellow!” she muttered softly, “he don’t seem to hear a word I said.”

But Chris had heard; and, as soon as he was alone, he slipped a small glass in his pocket, and tramped out to the back of the place, and up the highest piece of cliff, where he could lie upon his breast and watch the Fort.

He did not wait long, for the carriage soon drew up to the front entrance, and directly after Trevithick appeared, leading out Claude, in deep mourning and thickly veiled. Then Mary came out, to step into the carriage; and it was driven away, while Sarah Woodham, thin and sallow-looking, stood on the steps watching till it had disappeared, and at last Chris saw her as she turned, holding her hands to her temples, as if they throbbed.

“Will she come back to-night?” said Chris to himself. “I’ll wait and see.”

A couple of hours later, Trevithick led Claude slowly up towards the prison gates, for his companion had to cling to his arm for support, and he could feel the struggle that was going on as she strove to perform this duty to her husband.

They were within about fifty yards of the place, when Claude reeled and would have fallen but for the lawyer’s strong arm.

“Take my advice,” he whispered gently. “You can do no good, and you are not strong enough to go through such an interview as this.”

“I am better now,” she said feebly. “A little faint, that is all.”

“Put it off till another day.”

“No,” she said more faintly. “It is a duty to him. I will not believe that it can be true.”

Trevithick was silent.

“Let us go on now,” she said; and they had nearly reached the prison gates when there was a quick step, and a tall, fashionably-dressed woman stepped before them.

“Where are you going?” she said sharply in a strangely accented way.

“To see Mr Glyddyr, madam,” said Claude, meekly. “I am his wife.”

“You! Bah! You are nothing, girl,” cried the woman, her dark eyes blazing with vindictive spite. “He is mine. He married me five years ago from his yacht, in Marseilles. Yes, I, Denise Leschalles. Yes. And you, my faith, what could I not do to you?”

Claude uttered a faint cry and threw up her veil, to gaze wildly at the woman.

“My faith, you look. Yes, I am his wife, I tell you again. You are nothing.”

“Woman, is this true?” said Trevithick sternly.

“Bah! I say it not again. Go ask him, but he will only lie. Aha! and he could leave me to marry that! She is poor and weak. Take her away. I have the power to go and see my husband. This woman shall not pass.”

“Tell me where you are staying,” whispered Trevithick quickly. “Ah, I remember now. I saw you at Danmouth, at the hotel.”

The woman made no reply, but went on up to the gate, while Claude clung to the strong arm which supported her.

“Mr Trevithick, can this be true?” she whispered.

“Heaven only knows,” he said; “but you cannot go there now.”

Chris Lisle’s watch proved to be far shorter than he could have hoped, his patience being rewarded by the sight of the young mistress of the Fort as she was supported back into her home.

Volume Three – Chapter Twenty.

The Truth

The next day was a more eventful one still in the annals of Danmouth, and people stood in knots about the place discussing the new horror.

Doctor Asher was dying, and his colleague had sent for the nearest magistrate that morning, to take down the dying man’s deposition in the presence of witnesses, Trevithick being of those summoned to the bed.

The deposition was brief, but convincing, telling how the dying man had, when attending Gartram, found in his pocket-book sundry directions to his executors, explaining how his wealth was bestowed. The temptation had been too great for him, and after waiting long for an opportunity, he had taken advantage one evening of being at the house to add a certain drug to the chloral Gartram was in the habit of taking from time to time.

“As a dying man about to appear before my Maker,” he said, “I swear I had no intention of taking his life. I wished to make his sleep so sure that I could easily take what notes I wished, and this I did, to the amount of forty thousand pounds, but I did not calculate that the drug would be so strong, and I was horrified when I found that I could not bring him back from his deadly sleep.”

“What was the drug?” asked the magistrate, in the midst of a terrible silence.

“Better that it should not be known,” said the dying man feebly. “I have told the truth. The money is in the iron safe in my study. All but a few hundred pounds or so I sent abroad, and a note or two I passed beside. I gave Glyddyr that one by mistake, and – ”

The words that would have followed were never uttered, for insensibility supervened, and Doctor Asher never spoke again.

The law moves slowly, but it is pretty sure, and in due course the two men accused of complicity in Gartram’s death were discharged without a stain upon their character, so it was said, but Glyddyr was re-arrested upon another charge.

A guilty conscience had kept him silent about the accusation of murder, for he had added to the draught Gartram was in the habit of taking, but other hands had thrown this away. Still, he had always suffered mentally from the idea that he had murdered the man who had chosen him as a son.

Against the charge of bigamy he fought savagely, for there was the impending punishment to dread, and the loss of an almost princely fortune; but Denise made good her claim. The pleas of her being an alien fell to the ground, and the law cut asunder the tie that held Claude Gartram to one who passed for ever from her sight. Glyddyr’s term of imprisonment was but short, for his health had been so shattered that he was shortly after set at liberty, to die in Denise’s arms.

Of the rest of the actors who played their parts in this life drama, no more need be said than is contained in the French proverb: Cela va sans dire.

The End