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"And if Rhoda had not spoken, the mystery of Clear's death would never have been solved," said Diana, "although she only confessed at the eleventh hour, and when she was dying." "I think Link was pleased that the mystery was solved in so unexpected a way," said Lucian, laughing. "He never forgave my finding out so much without his aid.
So I took her out and we amused ourselves till supper time, when we returned home and fell in with this Hunchback who was brimful of drink and trolling out these rhymes: "Clear's the wine, the cup's fine; * Like to like they combine: It is wine and not cup! * 'Tis a cup and not wine!"
"He is not mad now, only weak in the head," replied Jorce professionally, "but he was certainly mad when he arrived. The man's brain is wrecked by morphia." "Not by drink?" "No; although it suited Mrs. Clear and Ferruci to say so. But Clear, as I may call him, was very violent, and quite justified Mrs. Clear's desire to sequester him. She told me that he often imagined himself to be other people.
"Ferruci wanted me to join him in the conspiracy so that I could watch Clear impersonating Vrain, while he himself kept his eye on the real Vrain, who was to be received into Mrs. Clear's house at Bayswater and passed off as her husband. All Mrs. Clear wanted was the money, as long since wearied of her drunken husband she did not care if he lived or died.
It was Rhoda who killed Michael Clear!" Of all the news concerning the truth of Clear's death, this was the last which Lucian expected to hear. He stood staring at the excited face of the detective in wide-eyed surprise, and for the moment could not find his voice. "It is true, I tell you!" cried Link, sitting down and smoothing out the paper which he carried.
The mystery of Clear's death had been solved; Lydia had been set free as innocent of crime; her father, found guilty of conspiracy to obtain the assurance money, had been condemned to a long term of imprisonment, and, what most concerned Lucian and Diana, Mark Vrain had really and truly gone the way of all flesh.
Clear's advertisement saying she would betray me if I did not pay the money. I consented to meet her in order to implore her silence, and so fell into the clutches of the law. "I may state that I did not kill Clear, as I never saw him after nine o'clock, and then he was alive. In spite of what the doctor said, I am still inclined to think he killed himself.
They proved to be hard up and mercenary, so Ferruci had no difficulty in gaining over both for his purpose. Ferruci, who was something of a chemist, created by means of some acid a scar on Clear's cheek like that on Vrain's, so that he resembled my son-in-law in every way save that he had lost one little finger.
Clear's cypher. Link listened to the tale attentively, and decided to adopt the idea. "It is a good one," he admitted generously, "and I'm not jealous enough to cut off my nose to spite my face. You have had the better of me all through this case, Mr. Denzil, and we have had words over it; but I'll show you that I can appreciate your cleverness by adopting your plan."
Dear me! hain't I lost my memory, sure enough, except about these ere old things? They seem's clear's daylight." "Sixty-five last July, mother," said Mercy. "Don't you know I gave you your new specs then?" "Oh, yes, child, yes. Well, I'm sixty-five, be I? Then Caley, Caley, he'd be, let me see you reckon it, Mercy. I wuz goin' on nineteen when Caley was born."
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