The Last Stroke: A Detective Story, Lawrence L. Lynch [books for new readers .txt] 📗

who was in all things what she was not.

Ruth bent over her, a glass of water in her hand.

"Drink this, Mrs. Jamieson," she said simply.

A shudder like a death throe shook the recumbent form. She lifted herself by one elbow, and caught at the glass, drinking greedily. Then, still holding the glass, she said slowly:

"Then you know me?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"By your voice, a little, but mostly by what Mr. Ferrars said."

"Mr. Ferrars!" she gasped. "Do you mean him?"

"I mean the man you have called Grant. Did you never guess that he was a detective?"

"And he knew!" The woman arose to her full height and again, as on a night long since, and in another country, her arms were tossed above her head, as Ruth[Pg 314] nodded her answer, and for a moment her face was awful to look upon, so tortured, so despairing, so full of wrath and wretchedness and soul torture and heart agony, for women can love and suffer, though their souls be steeped in crime.

Ruth, who had taken the half emptied glass from her hand as she struggled to her feet, now put it down, and, startled by her look and manner, moved toward the door, but the woman, her face ghastly, cried "Stop!" with such agonised entreaty that the girl drew back.

"Don't!—I can't see him yet—Wait!—Let me——" She sank weakly back upon the couch, and Ruth noted, while turning away for a moment, how her hand toyed with her dainty watchguard, in seeming self forgetfulness, drawing forth the little watch, a moment later, and looking at it, as if the time was now of importance. Then she threw herself back against the cushions.

"My—vinaigrette—my bag!" she moaned between gasping breaths.

The little bag had been left in the outer office, where it had fallen from her lap, and Ruth opened the door of communication a little way and asked for it, saying, as Ferrars came toward her, "Not yet."

As Ruth turned back, she heard a sharp little click, like the quick shutting of a watch case, and when she[Pg 315] held out the vinaigrette, Mrs. Jamieson was swallowing the remainder of the water in the glass.

"Your salts, Mrs. Jamieson."

The woman looked up with a wild scared look in her eyes, and held out, for an instant, the little jewelled watch.

"For years," she said, in a slow, strange monotone, "I have faced and feared danger, and failure. For years I have been prepared! Because of my cowardice, and my conscience, I have always kept a way of escape." Her fingers fluttered aimlessly and the watch fell upon her lap. Her last words seemed to come through stiffening lips. Her face grew suddenly ghostly gray. Ruth sprang toward the door.

"Don't let him come yet." With these words the dying woman seemed to collapse, and sank limply back into the cushions; her head drooped, her chin dropped.

Ruth flung open the door with a cry of terror, and the four men—for the two lawyers had returned from their escort duty—gathered about the couch. They saw a shudder pass over the limp frame. The fingers fluttered again feebly, there was a spasmodic stiffening of the figure—and that was the end.

 

Four weeks later, a group of people were standing[Pg 316] upon the deck of a homeward bound steamer, about to set out upon her ocean voyage. They were five in number, and they were welcoming, each in turn, the man who had just joined them.

There had been a quiet wedding, a few days before, at a little English church, and Ruth Glidden had become Ruth Brierly as simply as if she were not an heiress, and her newly made husband not the owner of English lands, houses, stocks, and factories, that changed him into a millionaire.

"I could see no good reason for delay," Brierly was saying, as he grasped the hand of Ferrars, whose congratulations had been hearty and sincere. "Neither of us have need to consult aught save our own wishes; and besides our nearest friends are with us."

"Besides," interposed the smiling woman at his side, "we have been an encumbrance upon Mr. and Mrs. Myers for so long—and it was really the only conventional way to relieve them of so many charges. And then"—and here she lowered her tone, and glanced toward Hilda Grant, who, having already greeted Ferrars, was standing a little aloof—"we can now make a home for Hilda, and have a double claim on her."

"In all of which you have done well," smiled Ferrars. "My only regret is that I must bring into this parting moment an unpleasant element, but you may as well[Pg 317] hear it from me." He beckoned the others to approach; and, when they were close about him, said, speaking low and gravely: "'Quarrelsome Harry' has escaped the punishment of the law."

"Escaped!" It was Mr. Myers who repeated the word. "Do you mean——?"

"I mean that he is dead. He was shot while trying to escape. He had feigned illness so well that they were taking him to the hospital department. He tried a rush and a surprise, but it ended fatally for him. He was shot while resisting re-arrest."

"It is better so," said Mr. Myers. "They have been their own executioners. What could the law have added to their punishment?"

"Only the law's delays," said Ferrars, and then he turned to Hilda Grant.

"This is not a long good-bye," he said gently. "At least I hope not. I shall be back in 'the States' soon. And, may I not still find a cousin there? Or must I stand again outside the barrier alone?"

"You will always find an affectionate cousin," said Hilda, putting out her hand.

And now it was time to leave the ship. All around them was the hurry of delayed farewells, the bustle of late comers, the shifting of baggage, smiles, tears, last words.

[Pg 318]

Ferrars would remain for a time in London, but he knew, as he answered to the call "all ashore," that when he returned to the United States he would find in one of her fair western cities, a warm welcome and a lasting friendship.

The plot, by which the beautiful tigress-hearted woman whom they had known as Mrs. Jamieson had hoped to achieve riches, was cleverly planned. The real claimant had died in a remote place, and there were no near friends to look after her interests, or those of her young children. And then Harry Levey's sister, beautiful, and an adventuress, from choice, like her brother, had beguiled Gaston Latham, and had, by frequent changes of abode, by cunning, and by fraud, merged her own personality into that of the former wife. Then had come the baffling discovery of heirs in America, the plotting and scheming to remove them from their path—and the shameful end.

"Ferrars is a strange fellow," said Robert Brierly to his wife, one moonlight night, as they sat together, and somewhat aloof from the others on deck. "Do you know he was the sole attendant, except for her servants, at that woman's burial. He went in a carriage alone. Was it from sentiment, or sympathy, think you?"

It was the first time the dead woman had been spoken of, by either, since that trying day of her exposure and[Pg 319] death, and Ruth was silent a moment, before she answered; the awful scene coming vividly before her. Then she put her hand within her husband's arm, and said, slowly, softly:

"It was because he is a good man; because she was a woman without a friend, and because she loved him."

There was a long silence, and it was Ruth who next spoke.

"Have you ever thought, or hoped, that the friendship and trust that has grown out of Hilda's relation to Mr. Ferrars might, sometime, end in something more?"

"No, dear, and this is why: Yesterday, Ferrars said to me 'There is a friend over in Glenville whom I hope you will not forget. Let him be your guest. And, if the day should come when your sweet sister that was to be should enter society and be sought by others, give the doctor his chance. He has loved her from the first.'"

Ruth sighed.

"Hilda is too young to go through the world loveless and alone. Yes, and too sweet. And the doctor is a noble man. But all this we may safely leave to the future, and to their own hearts."

 

THE END.

[Pg 320]

The Gresham Press,
UNWIN BROTHERS,
WOKING AND LONDON.

[Pg 1]

Warwick House, Salisbury Square,
London, E.C. 

New and Recent

Copyright + Novels

AND OTHER POPULAR WORKS
PUBLISHED BY
WARD, LOCK & CO., LIMITED.

E. H. STRAIN.

A Man's Foes. A Tale of the Siege of Londonderry. New and cheap edition. With Three Full-page Illustrations by A. Forestier. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.

"Quite the best historical novel of the day."—The Sketch.

"A powerful and impressive historical novel.... A chronicle of intense and unflagging interest."—Daily Telegraph.

"'A Man's Foes' is the best historical novel that we have had since Mr. Conan Doyle published 'Micah Clarke.' ... An exceptionally fine romance."—Daily Chronicle.

FRANCIS HINDES GROOME.

Kriegspiel: The War Game. A Novel. By the author of "Two Suffolk Friends," "In Gypsy Tents," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.

"Seemingly at one bound Mr. Groome has taken rank among the most promising novelists of the day, so full is 'Kriegspiel' of interest, of stirring incident, and of vivid and varied sketches of men and manners from contemporary English life."—The Illustrated London News.

"As a gipsy novel, as a novel depicting gipsy life, 'Kriegspiel' is unrivalled."—The Athenæum.

SHAN F. BULLOCK.

By Thrasna River. The Story of a Townland. Given by one John Farmer, and Edited by his Friend, Shan F. Bullock. With Four Full-page illustrations by St. Clair Simmons. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, 6s.

"This is a charming book, and affords quite the best picture of Irish rural life that we have ever come across."—The Athenæum.

"It is an Irish 'Thrums,' in which the character is drawn as straight from life as in Mr. Barrie's delightful annals of Kirriemuir."—The Sketch.

[Pg 2]

PERCY ANDREAE.

The Vanished Emperor. By the author of "Stanhope of Chester." Crown 8vo, cloth. 6s.

"We can honestly say it is years since we read a story so original, so striking, or so absorbing."—Manchester Courier.

"A most thrilling detective story, to which additional piquancy is given by the fact that the chief personages concerned are the present German Emperor and his Court, introduced under the thinnest disguises."—Athenæum.

GEORGE MEREDITH.

The Tale of Chloe; The House on the Beach; and, The Case of General Ople and Lady Camper. By the author of "The Ordeal of Richard Feverel," etc., Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. Also a cheap edition, cloth, 3s. 6d.

"'The Tale of Chloe' is one of the gems of English fiction.... We question whether, even in Mr. Meredith's rich array of female characters, there is any more loveable than Chloe."—Daily Telegraph.

EDITH JOHNSTONE.

A Sunless Heart. Third edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. Also a cheap edition. Crown 8vo, cloth, 3s. 6d.

Mr. W. T. Stead, in his article on "Women Novelists," writes of "its intrinsic merit, its originality and its pathos, its distinctively woman's outlook on life, and the singular glow and genius of its author.... Lotus is a distinct creation—vivid, life-like, and original."—Review of Reviews.

MRS. LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON.

Lazy Tours. By the author of "Bedtime Stories," "Swallow Flights," etc. Large crown 8vo, 6s.

Mrs. Moulton is everywhere admitted as America's greatest woman poet, and more than one critic who has seen this volume is of the opinion that Mrs. Moulton has written nothing to equal it. "Lazy Tours" is one of the most delightful volumes of Travel Papers which has appeared.

LOUIS F. AUSTIN.

At Random. A Collection of Essays and Stories. With Photogravure Portrait and Special Title-page. Full crown 8vo, art canvas, 5s.

"At Random," when it sees light in the beautiful form in which it is presented, will assuredly be one of the most widely-discussed books of the season. Though Mr. Austin has an almost unique reputation as one of the most brilliant and able of literary writers, he has, strange to say, never yet published a volume, but now he has at last collected some of the best of his contributions to periodicals together.

[Pg 3]

GUY BOOTHBY.

Dr. Nikola. With about Forty Illustrations by Stanley L. Wood. Crown 8vo, cloth gilt, special design, 5s.

"Dr. Nikola" has enchanted hundreds of thousands of readers during its serial course in "The Windsor Magazine."

The Beautiful White Devil. By the Author of "Dr. Nikola," "A Bid for Fortune," etc. With Six Full-page Illustrations by