The Bond of Black

“Simply because I had no desire to excite any suspicion in your mind, Clifton. That’s all.”

“Rubbish!” I ejaculated. “There’s some mystery behind all this. Why may I not know?”

The Vicar of St. Peter’s glanced inquiringly at Muriel, but finding no look of permission in her countenance, preserved a silence, which in a moment grew irksome.

Suddenly, however, Muriel, who stood near me, pale and excited, turned, and facing me, said —

“There appears to be a misunderstanding between you. It is quite true that I am acquainted with Mr Yelverton, and there is absolutely no necessity to deny the fact. We have known each other for a long time – ever since I was at Madame Gabrielle’s. He was curate at St. Michael’s, Rathbone Place, where I attended, and we were very good friends until – until – ” and she did not finish the sentence.

“Until what?”

“Well, until an event occurred which transformed our friendship.”

“What event?”

Again the pair exchanged glances. She was apparently trying to obtain permission from him to expose to me the whole truth. At that moment I felt assured that this woman I had so fondly loved was playing me false, and, after all, this popular preacher was her real lover. Certain circumstances appeared to point to it, for her confusion was apparent; she knew not what to admit, nor what to deny.

He shrugged his shoulders in dumb motion, as though he were careless, but this action apparently gave her confidence, and she turned to me again, saying —

“Any explanation you demand, Mr Yelverton will no doubt give to you.”

“No, no,” Jack cried, addressing her. “It’s quite impossible. You know full well that I’m utterly in ignorance of the truth, and that you alone can explain, if you will.”

She bit her lips, and endeavoured to recover her self-possession. Her illness had weakened her, and rendered her curiously nervous, so that the least emotion visibly affected her.

“Yes,” I added, “you are concealing a secret from me, Muriel, and I, who am to be your husband, demand to know what it is. Tell me!”

“If you had asked me this a few days ago,” she answered, after a pause, “I could only have given you a negative answer. But I have overheard Mr Yelverton’s confession to you, and now that I am strong again, I am determined that neither he nor you shall longer remain in doubt regarding the mystery surrounding Aline Cloud.”

“What is it?” I cried excitedly. “Tell us quickly.”

“No,” she answered, with a wave of the hand. “In this affair we must exercise patience, or those who are guilty will assuredly escape us. Besides, we have to ensure our own safety also.”

“Our own safety!” Jack echoed. “What do you mean?”

“Have I not narrowly escaped death?” she asked. “If we are not wary, another attempt, perhaps more successful, may be made.”

“You anticipate assassination because those who are guilty are aware that you are now in possession of their secret?” I cried. “Then let us act in union with care and discretion. What has caused you to preserve your silence until now?”

“Circumstances which rendered my secrecy imperative,” she answered. “Until now I only entertained suspicions; but these have been confirmed, therefore to me the truth is apparent. In order, however, for us to solve the mystery, it is necessary that you should both obey me implicitly, without asking any questions, for to some of your demands I should be compelled to give false answers. Trust in me, both of you, and I will reveal to you something stranger than you have ever dreamed.”

“We do trust you,” we both answered with one accord.

“I’m ready to act in any manner you direct,” I added.

“And you will not fear, even though a plot may be laid against your life?” she inquired with concern.

“I fear nothing while I have my revolver in my pocket,” I answered, as coolly as I could. “Both of us are ready and anxious to carry out any plan you may form.”

“But of what character is the plan?” asked the vicar, with natural caution.

“It’s Friday to-day,” she observed, disregarding his question. “Tell me when Aline will next visit you.”

“On Sunday. She has written to-day saying that she will attend the service on Sunday evening.”

“You will preach?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered evasively. “I may be away.”

“You mean that by that time you may have resigned and left the Church,” I said quickly. “No, Jack. Don’t think of such a thing. Muriel know? more than she has told us, and if she will assist us, I have no doubt that the mystery will be cleared up, and the guilty brought to punishment.”

“Do you wish me to preach on Sunday?” Yelverton asked of my beloved.

“Certainly,” was her response. “But, tell me – she never remains after the evening service, does she?”

“No, never,” he replied. “By the time I’m out of the vestry she has always departed. It seems as though her quick, impetuous nature will not allow her to await me.”

“Then preach on Sunday night, and leave the remainder to me,” she said.

“You appear to know all her movements,” Yelverton observed. “Where does she go usually after church?”

“Her destination is always the same – a secret one. But remain patient,” she added, a strange look in her dark eyes, as though she were intent upon a fierce and terrible revenge. “You are her lover, and have discovered, as others have done, that she is possessed of a spirit of evil that holds you appalled in wonder. Her actions are truly astounding, yet the truth, when revealed, will be more startling and more bewildering than any of the strange things which have already happened.”

“And you promise to explain everything?” I asked in breathless eagerness.

“No. I cannot promise that. I will furnish you with the necessary clue to the solution of the mystery, but even I myself know not all the facts.”

Both of us tried to obtain from her some further information regarding Aline, but without avail. She remained absolutely mute, likewise refusing to reveal the identity of her would-be assassin. That she had met him face to face upon the stairs she admitted, but in response to my inquiries declared that the time was not yet ripe for the denunciation, and urged us to remain in patience.

This we did until at last Sunday night came. At about half-past six I accompanied my beloved in a cab to a small and very dismal little street in the immediate vicinity of St. Peter’s, one of those mean, drab thoroughfares which abound in South London; and when at length the service concluded, we stood together in the gloom waiting for Aline’s striking figure to emerge among the congregation.

At last she came, dressed neatly in black, her fair hair well coiled beneath a neat black toque, and in her hand her tiny prayer-book, with the ivory cross upon the cover. She walked straight in our direction without, of course, dreaming of our presence, but outside the smoke-blackened railings of the churchyard she paused for a moment beneath the street-lamp to glance at the little jewelled watch pinned upon her breast. Her lover’s sermon had been a trifle longer than usual, therefore, on noting the time, she at once hurried away along the narrow little street towards the Walworth Road, in order, apparently, to keep some mysterious appointment.

“Come!” Muriel said. “Let us follow her!” And together we walked on, eagerly keeping her well in sight in the crowd of dispersing worshippers.

My heart beat wildly in those moments, for I knew we were upon the verge of some extraordinary discovery, the nature of which my beloved had predicted would be stranger than we had dreamed.

Chapter Twenty Three

In the Shadow

Ere we had gained the Walworth Road, Yelverton, so breathless in his haste that he could scarce gasp “Good night” to the small crowd who saluted him as he passed, overtook us.

“Where is she?” he inquired.

“There – in front of us, standing on the kerb,” I answered, halting in order to escape observation. “She’s evidently waiting for an omnibus.”

My surmise proved true, for a few moments later she entered one of those green omnibuses which ply to Camberwell Green, and the moment the conveyance moved off again Muriel, turning to me quickly, said —