The White Room

"Yes," replied Fane, with a sullen glance at the man who rebuked him, "and all would have been well but for that interfering Greek. I went down to Westcliff-on-Sea, and stopped with my wife."

"With Miss Julia Mason?"

"With my wife," said Fane savagely; "I look upon her as my wife."

"Does she know you were married before?"

"No. She knows a lot and about the death of Flora. But she thinks-"

Arnold rose. The man sickened him. "Don't say anything more. I can understand what lies you told her. Come to the point. Why did you come up on that night to Ajax Villa?"

Fane gave Arnold a second ugly look. "I came, because on the morning of the twenty-fourth I received a letter from Flora saying she had found out my house and was going there on that night to see my wife. She insisted I should be there also so that she might learn the exact truth."

"As though a low-down cuss like you was capable of telling it," said Tracey, in disgust; "but how did the letter come to the seaside? Did Mrs. Brand know your address there?"

"No. The letter was addressed to Ajax Villa, and sent on. It had been written on the previous day, and had I received it earlier, I should have gone to Hampstead and seen Flora. As it was, I had no time, and could see her only at the villa."

"You had the whole day," said Arnold dryly, "seeing that you received her letter in the morning."

"Yes. But Mrs. Fane was in the room when I received it. She became angry, for she is a very jealous woman. I swore it was not from a woman. She would not believe me, and all that day kept a watch on me. I could not get away, yet I felt, to put things straight and to persuade Flora to hold her tongue, I must. I then pretended to be ill and went to bed. After five I slipped out and took the six train to town. I have reason to believe that my wife followed-"

"We'll come to that later," said Calvert quickly. "Did you go at once to the villa?"

"No. Flora said she would not be there till between eight and nine. I waited in town. Then I met a friend and he detained me till nearly nine. I got away at last, and went to the villa. It was in darkness. I could not find Flora in the garden where I expected she would be."

"You didn't know she had a key?"

"No. She said nothing about it in her letter. I wondered where she was, then concluded that as I was late she had gone away. I intended going to the Hampstead house, but thought I would go into my own for a time. I opened the door, and went upstairs. I entered the White Room, and there I found Flora, dead."

"Dead!" it was Arnold who spoke; "you swear she was dead?"

"Yes, I swear it," said Fane, striking his breast in a somewhat theatrical manner. "She was lying dead on the mat before the piano, and had apparently been struck from behind. I looked at my watch; – it was a quarter past nine. I was horrified and wondered how she had come by her end. I searched the house. There was no one about, and all the doors were barred. About half-past nine, while I was searching in the back, I heard a ring at the door. I was terrified, and thought if I were found in the house with the dead that I would be arrested."

"And it's a pity you were not," said Tracey.

"A ring at the door at half-past nine," said Arnold thoughtfully; "I expect that was Laura. She promised to meet me there then. But after a time, as no one came to the door, she went away."

Fane stared at Calvert. "What was Laura doing there?" he asked. "I knew you came, but Laura-"

"How did you know I came?" said Arnold sharply.

"I saw you."

"Where?"

"In the White Room when you looked at the body."

"Then you remained in the house?"

"I was afraid to go," said Fane, with a shudder; "I thought some one would see me coming out of the house, and that I would be arrested when the crime came to light. I had an idea of disposing of the body, but I could not. After the ring at the door I waited for a time. Then I stole back to the White Room, and took the dagger which was lying by the body."

"A stage dagger?"

"Yes. Though I didn't know it was so at the time. I went to the back and thrust it into the dustbin out of sight. I was afraid to take it away with me lest it should be found on me, for that with the dead body and my relations with the dead woman, would have been evidence enough to hang me. I hid the dagger in the bin. Then I was coming back to the room, when I heard footsteps."

"Whose footsteps?"

"I don't know. I was too afraid to venture out. I remained in the back part of the house almost mad with terror. Calvert," cried Fane, clasping his hands, "I assure you I thought my brain would give way. I fancied that the police were in the house and that the body had been discovered. I made up my mind to be arrested. Had I but had the nerve I would have gone back for the dagger and killed myself."

Tracey sneered. "People of your sort don't kill themselves. Well, how long did you hide?"

"I can't say. Till some time after ten. Then I heard the front door close and stole out. I went up to the White Room. The body was still undisturbed. I wondered how I could get away and down to Southend so as to establish an alibi. Then I waited and heard you come in. Yes, I heard the door open. I concealed myself behind the hangings of the room. I saw you enter. You started when you saw the dead and recognised the body, to my surprise. Arnold, how was it you never knew me as Flora's husband?"

"I saw very little of my cousin," said Arnold, "and she scarcely spoke of you."

"But the photographs?"

"I never saw any of you."

"Yet there were several. Afterwards, when all was quiet, and after the body was buried, I went to the Hampstead house and removed all papers and photographs so that my connection with Flora might not be known."

"You forgot a photograph that Derrick found, and one that I picked up," said Tracey; "then there was a diary."

"I never thought of the diary," said Fane, passing his hand across his face, "yet I should have. Flora told me she kept one, and I might have guessed she would set down everything. But I was in such terror at being discovered in the Hampstead house that I forgot."

"You were a coward right through," said Arnold coldly; "however, go on. What happened after you saw me?"

"I waited. You went down the stairs evidently in a great fright. As you recognised the body I knew you would not call in the police, as you apparently fancied you might be accused. When you left I went to the window to see you go out. I saw the officer passing, and then to make him think that people were in the house, and to drive you away, I set the phonograph going."

"I heard it-I was in the hall," said Arnold, "and I was afraid. I admit it, Fane, I was terribly afraid."

"I guessed you would be. You left the house. I saw the policeman lean over the gate to listen. I saw you join him. I saw you walk away. Then I thought I would escape. When you were gone with the officer, I stole out. I passed along a by-street. I saw a motor-"

"My car," said Tracey, "and you took it to Charing Cross."

"I did," nodded Fane, "then I left it there and caught the underground railway to Liverpool Street, where I took the express to Southend. The rest you know."

"Not who killed Mrs. Brand," said Arnold.

Fane considered. "I can't tell you who did," he said; "she was dead before I came, so those who came into the house after ten could not have killed her."

"Do you know who they were?"

"No! I heard footsteps."

"How do you know there were two?"

"I only think so. There might have been only one person. I can't say, I was not in a state to think. I hid, and then all happened as I say. I don't know who killed my wife. I got back to Southend and afterwards heard the body had been discovered. I came to town and bluffed out the whole matter with that fool of a Derrick. When I heard about the Hampstead house being found I went there before Derrick came, and removed everything, as I said."