And as time wore on I waited in daily expectation of some sign from the woman I so dearly loved.

Guertin, who still remained in London, a.s.sured me that she was safe in hiding with her father, Phil Poland.

"And you will, of course, arrest him when you can discover him," I remarked, as I sat with the famous detective in his room at the Grand Hotel in Trafalgar Square.

"I do not wish to discover him, my dear Monsieur Biddulph," was his kind reply. "I happen to know that he has deeply repented of his wrongdoing, and even on his sudden reappearance at Stamford with the remaining portion of his once invulnerable gang, he urged them to turn aside from evil, and become honest citizens. He has, by his wrongful conviction of murder, expiated his crimes, and hence I feel that he may be allowed a certain leniency, providing he does not offend in future."

"But a warrant is out for him, of course?"

"Certainly. His arrest is demanded for breaking from prison. His escape is one of the most daring on record. He swam for five miles in the sea on a dark night, and met with most extraordinary adventures before a Dutch captain allowed him to work his pa.s.sage to Rotterdam."

"But he will not dare to put foot in London, I suppose. He would be liable to extradition to France."

"Who knows? He is one of the most fearless and ingenious men I have ever known. He can so alter his appearance as to deceive even me."

"But the metropolitan police, knowing that Sylvia--I mean Sonia--is his daughter, may be watching my house!" I exclaimed in alarm.

"That is more than likely," he admitted. "Hence, if you want to allow madame, your wife, an opportunity to approach you, you should go abroad somewhere--to some quiet place where you would not be suspected. Let me know where you go, and perhaps I can manage to convey to them the fact that you are waiting there."

The hotel at Gardone--that fine lake-side hotel where I had first seen Sonia--occurred to me. And I told him.

"Very well," he said cheerfully. "I shall return to Paris to-morrow, and if I can obtain any information from either of the prisoners, I will manage to let Poland know that his son-in-law awaits him."

Then I thanked the great detective, and, shaking hands warmly, we parted.

What Guertin had told me regarding the strange discovery of a man who closely resembled him outside Poland's house on the night of the latter's arrest held me much puzzled. Even he, the all-powerful chief of the _surete_, had failed to solve the enigma.

Next afternoon Shuttleworth called upon me in Wilton Street, and for a long time sat chatting.

At last he looked at me gravely, and said--

"I dare say you have been much puzzled, Mr. Biddulph, to know why I, a clergyman of the Church of England, have apparently been mixed up with persons of shady character. But now that four of them are under arrest, and a fifth, we hope, will shortly be apprehended, I will explain. As you perhaps know, Sonia was the daughter of the Honourable Philip Poland, who came to live at the Elms, which is close to the rectory at Middleton. We became great friends, until one evening he made a strange confession to me. He told me who he was--Louis Lessar, who had been the leader of a dangerous band of international thieves--and he asked my advice in my capacity of spiritual guide. He had repented, and had gone into retirement there, believing that his sins would not find him out. But they had done, and he knew he must shortly be arrested. Well, I advised him to act the man, and put aside the thoughts of suicide. What he had revealed to me had--I regret to confess it--aroused my hatred against the man who had betrayed him--a man named Du Cane. This man Du Cane I had only met once, at the Elms, and then I did not realize the amazing truth--that this was the selfsame man who had stolen from me, twenty years before, the woman I had so dearly loved. He had betrayed her, and left her to starve and die in a back street in Ma.r.s.eilles. I concealed my outburst of feeling, yet the very next evening Poland was arrested, and Sonia, ignorant of the truth, was, with a motive already explained by Monsieur Guertin, taken under the guardianship of this man whom I had such just cause to hate--the man who subsequently pa.s.sed as her father, Pennington. It was because of that I felt all along such a tender interest in the unhappy young lady, and I was so delighted to know when she had at last become your wife."

"You certainly concealed your feelings towards Pennington. I believed you to be his friend," I said.

"I was Sonia's friend--not his, for what poor Poland had told me revealed the truth that the fellow was an absolute scoundrel."

"And you, of course, know about the incident of a man closely resembling the French detective Guertin being found dead outside the door of the Elms?"

"Certainly," was his reply; "that is still a complete mystery which can only be solved by Poland himself. He must know, or else have a shrewd idea of what occurred."

As we chatted on for a long time, he told me frankly many things of which I had not the least suspicion, at the same time a.s.suring me of Sonia's deep devotion towards me, and of his confidence that she had left me because she believed being at her father's side would ensure my own safety.

And now that I knew so much of the truth I longed hourly to meet her, and to obtain from her--and perhaps from the lips of Philip Poland himself--the remaining links in that remarkable chain of facts.

CHAPTER THIRTY

CONCLUSION

About ten days afterwards I one morning received by post a brief note from Guertin, written from the Prefecture in Paris, urging me to go at once to the Victoria Hotel at Varenna, on the Lake of Como, where, if I waited in the name of Brown, my patience would be rewarded.

And there, sure enough, six days later, as I sat one evening in my private sitting-room, the door suddenly opened and my well-beloved, in a dark travelling gown, sprang forward and embraced me, sobbing for very joy.

Can I adequately describe the happiness of that reunion. Of what I uttered I have no recollection, for I held her closely in my arms as I kissed her hot tears away.

A man stood by--a tall, silent, gentlemanly man, whose hair was grey, and whose face as he advanced beneath the strong light showed traces of disguise.

"I am Philip Poland--Sonia's father," he exclaimed in a low voice.

Whereupon I took the hand of the escaped prisoner, and expressed the utmost satisfaction at that meeting, for he had risked his liberty to come there to me.

"Sonia has told me everything," he said; "and I can only regret that those blackguards have treated you and her as they have. But Guertin, who is a humane man, even though he be a detective, has tracked them down, and only yesterday I heard Du Cane--the man who made that false charge against myself, and stepped into my shoes; the man who intended that my poor girl should marry that young scoundrel Forbes--has been discovered in Breslau, and is being extradited to England."

"On the night of your arrest, Mr. Poland, a mystery occurred," I said presently, as we sat together exchanging many confidences, as I held my dear wife's soft little hand in mine.

"Yes," he replied. "It was only while I was out at Devil's Island that I learnt the truth. Du Cane, intending to get me out of the way, hit upon a very ingenious plan of sending a man made up as Guertin--whom I only knew by sight--to see me and suggest suicide rather than arrest.

This man--a person named Lefevre--came and made the suggestion. He did not know that Du Cane had written anonymously to the Prefecture, and never dreamed that Guertin himself would follow him so quickly. On leaving, he apparently hung about watching the result of his dastardly mission, when Harriman--or Bell as we knew him--walked up the drive, in order to call in secret upon me. He espied a man whom he recognized as Guertin peering in at the window, and, creeping up behind him, struck him down before he could utter a word. Afterwards he slipped away, believing that he had killed our arch-enemy, the chief of the _surete_. Presently, however, the body of the unfortunate Lefevre was found by Guertin himself, who had come to arrest me."

"And Harriman admitted this!" I exclaimed.

"Yes. He admitted it to me upon his death-bed. He died of fever a week before I made my dash for liberty. But," he added, "Sonia has told me of that dastardly attempt which those h.e.l.l-fiends Reckitt and Forbes made upon you in Porchester Terrace, and how they also tortured her.

But they were fortunately alarmed and fled precipitately, leaving Sonia unconscious."

"Yes," declared my sweet wife. "When I came to myself I recollected, in horror, what they had told me concerning the fate to which they had abandoned you in the adjoining room, and with a great effort managed to free myself and seek you. I cut the straps which bound you, and succeeded in killing the snake just in time to save you. Then I stole away and left, fearing that you might suspect me of having had some hand in the affair."

"And you saved my life, darling!" I exclaimed, kissing her fondly on the lips.

Then, turning to Poland, I said--

"The police are hunting for you everywhere. Cannot you get to some place where you are not liable to be taken back to France?"

"To-morrow, if I am fortunate," he said, with a faint smile, "I return to the modest little villa I have rented on the hill-side outside Athens. In Greece one is still immune from arrest for offences abroad."

"And I shall return to London with you, Owen. Father and I have travelled to Trieste, and thence here, in order that I should rejoin you, now that the danger is past."

"Ah! darling," I cried. "I never for one moment doubted you! Yet I admit that the circ.u.mstances once or twice looked very black and suspicious."

"Alas! I could not prevent it," she declared; "I left you and joined Dad at the Coliseum, because I went in fear of some further attempt being made upon us, and I felt you and I would be safe if I were with him. He had no idea when he met the others at Stamford that Forbes and Reckitt and Du Cane had effected that _coup_ with the Archd.u.c.h.ess's jewels."

"No. I had no idea of it," said Poland. "My meeting with them was one of farewell. I had already severed my connection with them three years ago, before my arrest."

And then, after some further explanations, I clasped my loved one in my arms and openly repeated my declaration of fervent love and fond affection.

Of the rest, what need be said?