Guilty Bonds

“To her, to Vera, and to yourself, I owe my present liberty,” I exclaimed deeply moved. “I am indeed grateful to you all for your efforts.”

“You have little to thank me for, dear,” said Vera tenderly. “Fate seemed against me in everything I did.”

“I understand how you must have suffered, dearest, and how circumstances precluded you from telling me the truth. You did your best, and in future I shall trust you implicitly,” I said, while her arm stole gently around my neck, and she looked lovingly into my eyes.

Wringing Boris’s hand heartily, I expressed my gratitude to him, adding, “There is one thing needful to completely solve the enigma – the name of the man who committed the crimes.”

“When I gave the police the information I promised I would not divulge until they made the arrest; otherwise I would tell you,” he replied, with a tantalising smile.

“Do tell us! We must know the whole truth now,” urged Vera earnestly.

“His name – but – hark! – what’s that?” he ejaculated, with bated breath.

We listened. It was the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor.

“I must see Mrs Burgoyne at once. Do you hear? Quick! Tell me; which is her room?” a voice shouted excitedly.

“It’s here! first on the left, sir,” was the reply.

A second later the door was flung open without warning.

Chapter Thirty Five

The Vantage-Ground of Truth

Demetrius burst abruptly into the room.

His wild appearance startled us. His face was pale and haggard; his eyes bloodshot, his collar torn, and his coat rent at the shoulder.

He stopped suddenly, stepping back a few paces when he saw Vera was not alone.

“Why, good Heavens! What’s the matter?” I exclaimed, in utter astonishment; for he and I had been the closest friends.

“Matter! Diable! You should know!” he cried, his foreign accent being more pronounced in his excitement.

“No. What is it?” asked Vera, who had risen and was standing close to him. “Are you mad?”

“Yes, imbecile – if you like,” he shouted hoarsely. Pointing to Boris, he added, his face distorted by a look of intense hatred, “That traitor is the cause! He has set the police upon me. They have followed me and are hunting me down. But they shall not arrest me —Sacré– at least not yet!”

“Come; enough of this!” commanded Boris, sternly, advancing and clutching him by the shoulder.

“Hands off, you devil!” he cried fiercely, shaking himself free. “Listen, first, to what I have to say!”

“Now, it’s useless to struggle,” Boris declared firmly. “I shall detain you here and send for the police.”

“No you won’t. Curse you! They are following me now. They saw me enter the hotel. Hark! they’re on the stairs. But I have something – something to say.”

There was a sly, crafty look in his distended eyes.

“Well; what is it?” I asked, at the same time glancing at Vera, and noting that her delicate face was firm-set and pale.

“You – you robbed me of her, and, by Heaven, some satisfaction is due to me. I demand it – do you understand?” he screamed with an imprecation, addressing me.

“It is I who protected my sister, and assisted her to evade the clutches of a heartless villain – the man who murdered my wife!” interposed Boris, infuriated, emphasising his words with a foreign oath.

“Is it this man?” I demanded, bewildered.

“Yes,” he answered, angrily. “This is the scoundrel who murdered two defenceless women.” Turning towards him, he added quickly, “Ah! Demetrius Orselska, the revenge I have so long sought is now near at hand.”

“It is – it is,” hissed the other. “But, ma foi! if you think I will be trapped, you are mistaken!” he laughed harshly. “No – you, Frank Burgoyne – you English cur! – you took Vera from me. Though she is your wife, you shall no longer enjoy her beauty. Dieu! you shan’t?”

I saw him plunge his hand nervously into his pocket, but had not the slightest idea of his intention.

As I turned to look at Vera she covered her blanched face with her hands, screaming, – “Look, Frank – he has a pistol!”

His movements were of lightning-like rapidity. Before I could wrest the weapon from his murderous grasp he had levelled it at her.

There was a flash – a loud report – and a puff of smoke curled between us.

For a second I feared to glance at her, but when I lifted my eyes, it was with joy I saw that the bullet had sped harmlessly past, shattering a great mirror at the opposite end of the room.

Shrieking wildly and hysterically, she staggered fainting to a chair, while Boris and I struggled with the murderer to obtain possession of the weapon.

“Stand back!” he shouted, his dark flashing eyes starting from their sockets, and his even row of white teeth prominently displayed. “Touch me, and I’ll blow your brains out! Sacré! I warn you!”

The mad excitement seemed to have filled him with fiendish strength, and by an agile movement he again freed himself.

With a muttered oath he advanced several steps towards the spot where Vera was sitting, now rendered utterly unconscious by the sudden shock.

I saw his intention. I detected the terrible expression of revenge that passed over his features; and sprang towards him.

Another second, and I should have been too late.

The muzzle of the revolver was again pointed at her; his finger was upon the trigger, nevertheless as he pulled it I knocked his arm upwards.

The weapon discharged, but the bullet imbedded itself in the ceiling.

I had saved Vera’s life!

At this moment there were loud shouts in the corridor, and a few seconds later a police inspector, accompanied by two detectives and several waiters, dashed into the room.

“Demetrius Orselska, we have a warrant for your arrest for murder!” announced the officer, sharply, and turning to his men, added, “arrest him?”

Like some hunted animal who is brought to bay, the scoundrel glanced quickly around for means of escape, but finding none, turned and faced them.

A moment’s reflection had decided him.

“You – you shall not take me,” he hissed. “I – I confess I am guilty of the crimes – but —Diable! I will take my own life, and – and you can take my body if it’s any use – you can can do what you like with that, you bloodhounds!”