B. L. Farjeon

“ And upon the shriek, there, near the water, laid the young girl, dead, with the bunch of white daisies in her belt, stained with blood. Then, everything disappeared, and, trembling and shaking to that degree that I felt as if I must fall to pieces, I looked up and round, and found myself in the private room of the Twisted Cow, with Devlin setting opposite me. "Dreaming agin, Lemon?" he says, with a grin. But I don't answer him; my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. That's all I know, Fanny. ”

“ My friend will wonder what is detaining me."
"But one word more, sir. Have you heard any news of Mary?"
"None. So far as I know, she is still missing. If we could find her we should, perhaps, learn the truth."
"Should you need me," said Carton, "you know my address. I gave you my card yesterday, but you may have mislaid it. Here is another. I live with my guardian. It is a good thing for me that I am not left alone. But, good God! what am I saying? I am alone--alone! My Lizzie, my poor Lizzie, is dead!" ”

“ There was I, setting like a stature in the position that Devlin placed me; and there was Lemon, leaning for'ard, with his hands clarsping the arms of his chair, and his eyes glaring like a ghost's; and there was Devlin, waving his brush and painting me, making all sorts of strange remarks, and singing all sorts of songs in all sorts of languages. He could do that, sir; I don't believe there's a language in the world that he can't speak, and I don't believe there's anything in the world, or out of it, for that matter, that he doesn't know. ”

“ I inquired. "Were you aware I was in this neighbourhood?"
"No," replied Carton, "I had not the slightest idea of it."
"He followed the newsboy," explained Mr. Dowsett, "of whom you bought a paper just now. These people, crying out the dreadful news, excercise a kind of fascination over my dear George. I give you my word, he seems to be in a waking dream as he follows in their footsteps."
"I am in no dream," said Carton. "I am on the alert, on the watch. I gaze at the face of every man and woman I pass for signs of guilt. Where is the murderer, the monster who took the life of my poor girl? ”

“ I have known the poor girl and her sister since their infancy."
"I did not dare to call upon Mr. Melladew," he said, and then he faltered again and paused.
"Are you acquainted with him?" I asked.
"No," he said, "but I hoped to be. If I went now and told him what I wish to impart to you, he might look upon me as responsible for what has occurred." He put his hand over his eyes, from which the tears were flowing.
"What is it you wish to impart to me?" I inquired, "and why should you suppose you would be held responsible for so horrible a crime?" ”

“ The next moment I stood face to face with the strange creature, concerning whom my curiosity was raised to the highest pitch. He was sitting in a chair upon my entrance, and he did not rise from it; therefore I looked down upon him and he looked up at me. As my eyes rested on his face, I saw in it the inspiration of the evil expression in the faces of Mr. Lemon's portrait, the stone monster, and the bird's beak, which had made so profound an impression upon me in the parlour on the ground-floor.
"You have been in the house some time," said Devlin. ”

“ Waking or sleeping, it is ever with him. Look out upon the darkness, and behold, rising from the shadows, the form of the innocent girl whose life you took. To the last moment of your life her spirit shall accompany you; till death claims you, you shall know no peace!"
Whatever of malignancy there was in Devlin's voice, the words he spoke conveyed the stern, eternal truth. ”

“ I hope up to this point I have made myself plain to you."
"You are the soul of lucidity," said Devlin, "but much remains yet to explain. For the sake of argument we have admitted an element of romance into this very prosaic matter; for it is really prosaic, almost commonplace. Life is largely made up of tragedies and mysteries, the majority of them petty and contemptible, a few only deserving to be called grand. As a matter of fact, my dear sir, existence, with all its worries, anxieties, hopes, and disappointments, is nothing better than a game of pins and needles. ”

“ I said. "You shall swear to me that you have had no hand in this most horrible and dastardly murder."
"More inconsistency, more lack of logical perception," he said, and the magnetism in his eyes compelled me to fix my gaze upon the cross on the table. "You ask me to swear, and you will be content with my oath. I render you my obligations for your faith in my veracity. How shall I swear? How shall I deliver myself of the sacred and holy pledge? There are so many forms, so many symbols, of pledging one's mortal heart and immortal soul. ”

“ I came home to enjoy the society of my two beautiful nieces, and I find what you know of. Well, one poor girl has gone, and cannot be recalled; but the other, Mary, so far as we know, is alive; and yet she, too, disappeared last night, and nothing has been heard of her. She must be found; if she is in danger she must be rescued; she must be restored to her parents' arms, and to mine. Something else. The murderer of my poor niece Lizzie must be discovered and brought to justice--must be, I say! There shall be no miscarriage here; the villain shall not escape. ”

“ The manner in which I became intimately associated with a fearful mystery with which not only all London but all England was ringing, and the strange, inexplicable Being whom the course of events brought to my knowledge, are so startling and wonderful, that I have grown to believe that by no effort of the imagination, however wild and bewildering the labyrinths into which it may lead a man, can the actual realism of our everyday life be outrivalled. ”

“ Beneath it should be words to the effect that it was the portrait of a man who knew, before its committal, that the murder of the poor girl Lizzie Melladew was planned, and who must, therefore, be implicated in it. The portrait would lead to your arrest, and then Mr. and Mrs. Lemon would come forward with certain facts. Mr. Devlin, I would make London too hot to hold you."
"An expressive phrase. Your plan is more than ordinarily clever; it is ingenious. And London," said Devlin thoughtfully, "is such a place to work in, such a place to live in, such a place to observe in! ”

“ Receive what I am about to say as the fixed resolve of a man who sees before him a stern duty and will not flinch from it. Having come into association with you, I am determined not to lose sight of you. I put aside any further consideration of a strange and inexplicable mystery in connection with yourself as being utterly and entirely beyond my power to understand."
"My dear sir," said Devlin, with a glance at his shabby clothes, "you flatter me." ”

“ I shall sleep here to-night, Fanny."
"And welcome, sir. We haven't a spare bedroom, but I can make you up a bed on the sofa in the parlour."
"I shall not need it. I am going to sleep in Devlin's room, on the floor."
She caught my arm with a cry of alarm. "Has he got hold of you, too, sir? The Lord save us! He's got the lot of us in his claws!"
"Don't be absurd," I said. "I know what I'm about, and Mr. Devlin will find me a match for him. No more questions; do as you are bid. If you have a mattress and some bedclothes to spare, bring them up at once." ”

“ He must have a reason, a vital reason, for effecting this disguise in himself. And I have let him slip through my fingers!"
"He has a vital reason for so disguising himself," said Devlin, "but it has no connection with the murder of Lizzie Melladew."
"Then what do you mean?" I cried, "by asking me whether I have not received a clue?"
"Was your attention attracted to no other of my customers than this man?"
"There was only one who was known to me--Mr. Kenneth Dowsett."
"Ah!" said Devlin. "Mr. Kenneth Dowsett." ”

“ What happened to one whose face we have never seen, whose hand we have never grasped, may happen to us who move in the same familiar grooves of humanity. Our hopes and fears, our joys and sorrows, our duties and temptations, are the same, because we are human; and it is this common tie of kinship that will cause the story of Devlin the Barber to be received with more than ordinary interest. Now, for the first time is revealed, in these pages, the strange manner in which the fearful mystery in which it was enshrouded was unravelled. ”

“ Now, Fanny, who is this Devlin?"
"You called him a man, sir," said Mrs. Lemon, striving unsuccessfully to keep her eyes from the portrait of her husband, from the evil-beaked bird, and from the image of the stone monster on the mantelshelf. ”

“ I can plainly distinguish the features of the two men upon whom we are gazing. One is young. Who is he?"
"His name," I replied, believing that entire frankness would be more likely to win Devlin to my side, "is George Carton."
"I recognise him; he was in your house yesterday morning. He seems distressed. There is a troubled look in his face."
"He was the murdered girl's lover."
"Ah! And the other, the elder man, casting anxious glances upon the younger--who may he be?"
"His name is Mr. Kenneth Dowsett. He is young Carton's guardian." ”

“ Portland.
"Such things have been. In these cases of mystery it is always an error to rush at a conclusion and to set to work upon it, to the exclusion of all others. It is as great an error to reject a theory because of its improbability. My dear sir, nothing is improbable in this city of ours; I am almost tempted to say that nothing is impossible. The columns of our newspapers teem with romance which once upon a time would have been regarded as fables." ”

“ So I spread out Lemon's clothes in regular order, not forgetting his clean Sunday shirt, and I put on my bonnet and cloak, and set down and waited all through that blessed night, looking at Lemon. I didn't hear a sound in the room up-stairs, so I supposed that Devlin was asleep, and I thought how dreadful it was to have a man like that in the house, a man as spoke of murder as though he enjoyed it. ”

“ Nowhere is that vanity and weakness more conspicuous than in Genesis, in the very first chapter, my dear sir, where man himself has had the audacity to write that 'God created man in His own image.' My dear Mrs. Lemon, you have excelled yourself this morning. This rasher is perfect, and your cooking of these eggs to the infinitesimal part of a second is a marvel of art."
Fanny did not open her lips to him, and the meal passed on in silence so far as she was concerned. I made a good breakfast, and Devlin expressed approval of my appetite. ”