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Not only were they both the work of a most accomplished criminal, but he must have been possessed of an iron nerve and amazing strength. The dagger by which Hamilton Fynes was stabbed was driven through the middle of his heart. The cord with which Vanderpole was strangled must have been turned by a wrist of steel. No time for a word afterwards, mind, or before. It was a wonderful feat.
She had been instantly drawn to Gerard Fynes. He had the distance from her own life which provoked interest, and in that distance was the mother whom perhaps it was her duty to forget, yet for whom she had a longing which grew greater as the years went on.
"Ah? . . . Ah-well, surely that is so," answered Jean Jacques wistfully. "I had forgotten that. Perhaps you can tell me, you who know all. Have you any news about my Zoe for me? Do you know was she ever here? Madame Gerard Fynes would be her name. My name is Jean Jacques Barbille." "Madame Zoe was here, but she has gone," quietly answered the Young Doctor.
'I myself, says the traveller Fynes Morrison, in the end of Queen Elizabeth's reign, the scene being the Lowlands of Scotland, 'was at a knight's house, who had many servants to attend him, that brought in his meat with their heads covered with blue caps, the table being more than half furnished with great platters of porridge each having a little piece of sodden meat.
"Madam," he said, "one of these gentlemen is from Scotland Yard, and the others are reporters. They are all eager to know anything about Mr. Hamilton Fynes. I expect they will want to ask you some questions." The girl opened her lips and closed them again. "I regret to say that I have nothing whatever to tell them," she declared. "Will you kindly let them know that?" The clerk shook his head.
"You aren't thinking of doing anything in woollen machinery, are you?" Sir Edward smiled. "I think not, Mr. Coulson," he answered. "At any rate, my question had nothing to do with your other very interesting avocation. What I wanted to ask you was whether you could tell me anything about a compatriot of yours a Mr. Hamilton Fynes?" "Hamilton Fynes!" Mr. Coulson repeated thoughtfully.
Hamilton Fynes explained. "I could not very well expect them to get my trunk up from the hold. It will follow me to the hotel tomorrow." "You will find that the attendant has light refreshments on board, sir, if you should be wanting anything," the station-master announced. "We'll start you off now, then. Good-night, sir!" Mr. Fynes nodded genially. "Good-night, Station-master!" he said.
To the moods of her governess she did not attach so much importance. For the first time that morning the Fynes saw the front door of the awful house open and the objectionable young man issue forth, his rascality visible to their prejudiced eyes in his very bowler hat and in the smart cut of his short fawn overcoat.
He had been reluctant to make inquiries. It would have set all the village talking. The Fynes had expected her to reappear every moment, till the shades of the night and the silence of slumber had stolen gradually over the wide and peaceful rural landscape commanded by the cottage. After telling me that much Fyne sat helpless in unconclusive agony.
"It is scarcely credible, that in a climate like that of Ireland, and at a period so far advanced in civilisation as the end of Elizabeth's reign, the greater part of the natives should go naked. Yet this is rendered certain by the testimony of an eye-witness, Fynes Moryson.
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