CHAPTER LXIII. A FINAL VERDICT.

"Got a message from Mr. Charlton to follow him here," Prout gasped. "You don't mean to say that you've got her here, sir?"

"Indeed, he has, Mr. Prout," Leona said coolly. "Will you come in? We have been having a pleasant conversation with some pleasing confessions. Have you come for me?"

The woman was smiling now quite freely. All traces of passion and anxiety were gone. She knew the end had come, and she was prepared to accept it without complaint. Prout looked a little awkward as he bowed.

"I shall not slip through your fingers in the same way as before," said Leona. "I flatter myself I did you very neatly when you called upon me in Lytton Avenue. But all the same I am going to escape you."

"It's my duty, madame," Prout began, "to ask you to----"

"Accompany you. Presently, but not quite in the way you imagine. I have made my confession in a way that Mr. Lawrence thoroughly appreciates. It was I who murdered Leon Lalage, my husband, in this house; it was I who palmed those notes off on Dr. Bruce. No reason to tell you why now. And it was I in this very house who robbed my late mistress of her jewels and forged the letter from her husband that caused her to take poison. After that I have no more to say. Gentlemen, I am much obliged by your kind attention, and I say farewell to you, thus."

There was a warning shout from Lawrence, who dashed forward and grasped the speaker by the wrist. But she wrenched herself away from him, and placed the table between them. Prout was looking on in a confused kind of way.

"Close with her," yelled Lawrence, "she's got poison in her hand."

Leona Lalage laughed aloud. She threw back her head, and a few drops from the little bottle were tilted between her teeth. Almost instantly she grew livid.

"Swift and sure," she said, "it's prussic----"

She said no more. The ashy pallor of her skin grew whiter, there was a look of horror, swift as summer lightning, in her splendid eyes. Then she pitched forward, there was a thud and a cloud of dust, and she lay there rigid, motionless.

"Dead," whispered Prout, "dead instantly. It was prussic acid. The whole room reeks of it. Perhaps it was as well to finish it this way. There'll be an inquest now, and the whole business will come out."

They laid the body on a sofa, and the trio left the Corner House. They were very silent as they walked along.

"Some houses are accursed," Charlton said at length. "Mine has been the abode of mystery and crime for years. I shall never enter it again.

"And may this be the last of the evils connected with my house."

page314
"Swift and sure," she said,
"it's prusic----" --Page 314

"Must attend the inquest, sir," said the practical Prout. "Still, if that was my house, I'd pull it down if I couldn't sell it."

Gordon Bruce was returning from an important consultation when he first heard the news. It was the sensation of the hour. Public attention in the Corner House mystery had never relaxed; on the flight of Countess Lalage it had doubled. Where had she gone, and what was the true solution of the mystery were the only questions asked.

And here it was all out in the lurid light of day. Dramatic arrest of the Countess. The suicide and confession. It was flaring in the evening papers--the boys were yelling at the top of their voices in the street. The din of it filled Bruce's ears. "Confession of the crime." "The confession of the murder." "The mystery of the motor explained." "Dr. Bruce cleared of the cruel charge." It seemed strange to Gordon to hear his name yelled out like this in his own ears. He had a paper thrust into his hands.

He bought one eagerly enough, and stood spellbound on the pavement whilst he read. It was all here, even down to a signed copy of the confession. Lawrence had seen to that. Bruce turned into his club in a dazed kind of way. The smoking-room was full, he was the centre of a group, all of which seemed eager to shake hands. It was all so sudden that Bruce was not himself yet.

He got away at length to his own room. The servants greeted him with smiling faces, the housekeeper was in tears.

"Not that I ever believed it," she said, "Never from the first. And now you'll have the finest practice in London. I'd quite forgot, sir, to say that there is a young lady waiting for you."

There was no need for Lawrence to ask who was waiting for him. He closed the door behind him, and a second later Hetty was in his arms. Then there was a long, clinging caress, and their lips met in the sweetest of embraces. It was a long time before either of them spoke. Hetty's eyes were full of happy tears.

"I shall realise it presently," Bruce said at length. "My darling, I should never have had my good name cleared thus but for you. You are the bravest girl in the world. And all those dangers for me!"

"I was not afraid, dearest," Hetty said. "I thought of you. I knew it would come right. I felt from the first that the truth would come out. And now all those people have gone. Bruce, you will not be sorry for this after----"

The telephone jangled sharply. Bruce listened to the message with a smile.

"The Duchess wants me to see her boy at once," he said. "The Duchess, you know; the one who so annoyed you at Lady Longmere's party."

Hetty clapped her hands joyfully.

"That is a good omen," she said. "They will be all after you now, dear."

Her eyes sparkled, her cheeks glowed with happiness. Bruce looked at her with pride and love in his eyes.

"I dare say," he said. "And it has been a long, trying time. Hetty, we shall be able to get married as I planned. What do you say to July or----"

"You had better," Hetty said demurely--"you had better run away and see to your Duchess."

The End