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How did your interview with the commissioner go on?" "We parted the worst of friends," said Jack, "and, Rennett, the next man who talks to me about Jean Briggerland's beautiful face is going to be killed dead through it, even though I have to take a leaf from her book and employ the grisly Jaggs to do it." That night the "grisly Jaggs" was later than usual.
A bent man who limped cautiously across the lawn and was making for the back of the house. Mr. Briggerland cocked his gun and took aim.... Both girls heard the shot, and Lydia, springing out of bed, ran on to the balcony. "It's all right, Mrs. Meredith," said Briggerland's voice. "It was a burglar, I think." "You haven't hurt him?" she cried, remembering old Jaggs's nocturnal habits.
He seemed absolutely crushed by the realisation of Jean Briggerland's deed, and he did not speak again for a long time. "I'm glad I know," he said at last. "Do you really think that all this time she has been trying to kill me?" He nodded. "She has used everybody, even me," he said bitterly. "I don't want you to think badly of me, Mrs. Meredith, but I'm going to tell you the truth.
It happens that I have met Briggerland and I've met his daughter too, and a more beautiful girl I don't think it has been my pleasure to meet." Jack groaned. "Aren't you feeling well?" asked the chief unpleasantly. "I'm all right, sir," said Jack, "only I'm so tired of hearing about Jean Briggerland's beauty. It doesn't seem a very good argument to oppose to the facts "
"The only thing that was established was that he had seen the body and he picked up the pistol which was lying near the dead man. The shot was fired as he opened the door of Mr. Briggerland's house. Then he saw the figure on the pavement and picked up the pistol. He was in that position when Miss Briggerland, who testified against him, came out of the house and saw him." The detective nodded.
"Half the difficulty is going to be to cover up your visit to the asylum, because this man is certain to mention your name, and it will not all be dismissed as the imagination of a madman. Now I think I will make my promised call upon Mrs. Meredith." There was one thing which rather puzzled and almost piqued Lydia Meredith, and that was the failure of Jean Briggerland's prophecy to materialise.
Marcus Stepney arrived punctually, and, to Mr. Briggerland's disgust, was dressed for dinner, a fact which necessitated the older man's hurried retreat and reappearance in conventional evening wear. Marcus Stepney's behaviour at dinner was faultless. He devoted himself in the main to Mrs.
"What do you mean?" she asked. "I mean," said Jack Glover soberly, "that it would not have been Bulford, but I, who would have been lured from his club by a telephone message, and told to wait outside the door in Berkeley Street. It would have been I, who would have been shot dead by Miss Briggerland's father from the drawing-room window." The girl looked at him in amazement.
I made love to her behind poor Jim's back, and she 'ticked me off, and that's why I'm so annoyed with her?" "You have a very good memory," said Lydia, with a scornful little smile. "My memory isn't as good as Miss Briggerland's power of invention," said Jack. "Doesn't it strike you, Mrs. Meredith, that if I had made love to that young lady, I should not be seen here to-day?"
"François," she repeated calmly. "It is right that you should know that François and I will be married next week." Mr. Briggerland's jaw dropped. "What?" he almost shrieked. She nodded. "We are going to be married next week," she said, "and the little scene you witnessed has nothing whatever to do with you." The effect of these words on Mordon was magical.
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