Guilty Bonds

“This,” said my strange narrator, taking it in his trembling hand, “is my wife’s picture, and it will do very well for Jane’s. We saw little of her, as she moved about so much, sometimes in England and sometimes abroad.”

“Really this does not throw much light on the occurrence,” I remarked. “What connects me with all this?”

“The fact that you witnessed the murder at Bedford Place,” he replied. “You have seen the man who killed Mrs Inglewood, and he also, I am certain, murdered my wife! You may well stare; but consider well, as I have done, and you will come to the same conclusion. When Nell left me she said, ‘Good-bye Ned; I know it’s a dangerous errand I’m on, but don’t fret.’ It was dangerous – fatal. When I found she did not return I went out. It was dark, and a very few steps from my door I stumble on a drunken woman lying in a corner. When I looked closer my head reeled, and I nearly fainted – it was Nell! On her breast was the – the – ”

“The seal!” I exclaimed.

He did not answer. Gradually his voice had become fainter, till it was only by placing my ear almost to his mouth that I caught the feebly-uttered syllables.

Putting the candle to his face I saw that his eyes were fixed on vacancy, while huge drops of dank perspiration stood upon the tightly-drawn skin of the forehead.

Evidently my mysterious acquaintance was dying rapidly. What was to be done?

The fatal secret was yet locked in his bosom.

Maddened with a feverish anxiety I emptied the brandy remaining in the flask down his throat, afterwards wiping his pallid face with my handkerchief.

My efforts for a time seemed in vain, but by degrees the breathing became more perceptible. Presently he opened his eyes.

“Thanks, thanks,” he murmured, his hands clutching convulsively over mine with each respiration.

“Are you better now?” I asked.

He disregarded my question, and appeared to be endeavouring to recall his thoughts.

“Ah, yes, it was the seal that was on Nell, – yes, the seal, and I took it off. It’s in the box, along with the portrait.”

“And you wanted me – for what?” I said, inquiringly, for he seemed to be losing himself again.

“You? Who are you?”

The question fell with a terrible weight upon my ears – it was clear that the man’s senses had fled.

“Frank Burgoyne is my name,” was my reply. “You were going to tell me who it was your wife went to see, and why you wanted me.”

“Wanted you? Ah, yes! I’ve seen you before – in Drury Lane. Nell showed you to me, for you gave evidence at the inquest. Yes, I’ve seen you!”

In a moment the remembrance of that mysterious encounter in Drury Lane came vividly back to me.

Was this the suspicious character who had come up as if he meant to speak to me, and who afterwards vanished?

There was something very awful in the ravings of that man during the next quarter of a hour. At times he was apparently hiding like a beaten hound, cringing and whining, while from the mention of the Junior Garrick Club it struck me that he was, in imagination, pleading to be allowed to stay outside the club house.

“I will see him! I will wait, if I stay here till I die!” he yelled wildly, struggling to rise.

My endeavours to hold him down were at length successful, and, apparently exhausted, he lay back, groaning and muttering.

Slowly and wearily the time passed. When at last I looked at my watch its hands pointed to the hour of half-past four.

In a frenzy of excitement I listened breathlessly for every word, hoping to catch some clue to the problem. The sick man moaned and ground his teeth, ever and anon raising his voice, startling me with the suddenness of the outbursts. Lower and lower sank the candle in its socket, until I feared that unless the day soon dawned we should be in darkness.

A cold shiver ran through me.

Then strain was beginning to take effect; my limbs trembled with the tension to which my nerves subjected them.

Presently the day broke, and never was it more welcome.

The candle had just flickered and died out when the injured man spoke with startling distinctness.

“You shall be revenged, Nell, never fear! I’ll find him. He has seen him once – red-handed then. The blood was upon him – he shall be richly repaid!”

Was he talking of me? I had seen the murderer once, certainly.

“I tell you I will! My oath is sacred. Who will believe me, without him – without Burgoyne?” he continued in his delirium.

Hoping a sudden fright might bring him to consciousness, I laid my hand upon his arm sharply, and exclaimed, —

“What do you want me to do?”

Seemingly startled for a moment, he was silent. Then he asked, —

“What time is it?”

“Half-past six,” I answered.

“I’ve told you all. That cursed fall last night has done for me; or I would have gone with you – gone with you to – to – ”

Again he faltered. The fingers which I clasped seemed to stiffen around mine and grow cold.

He was dying!

“For Heaven’s sake bear up a few moments!” I implored. “There must be a doctor about now. See, it’s getting light!”