Brandon Fleming

“ It is more than an extraordinary thing—it is a gigantic, a brain-splitting thing—if he has kept his windows closed, his house unpainted, and his garden crooked for twenty years. The house of a man is the reflection of his soul. It was the reflection of George Copplestone's soul yesterday. ”

“ I did not kill Christine Manderson—and that will not help me. The evidence is more than enough to satisfy any impartial, clear-thinking man or woman. It would satisfy me. That I know myself to be innocent will not assist me to establish my innocence. Thousands of things may happen in the meantime—but I must prepare to suffer the penalty for a crime that I did not commit. ”

“ I am George Copplestone Winslowe. Do you wonder that I hate him? I am the victim of his vices—the heir to his sins. He has left me the legacy of outraged nature. I am mad."
She recoiled from him, panting. He was beside himself. His face was distorted; madness glared in his eyes. Then, suddenly, the paroxysm left him. He turned to her weakly, with the appeal of his utter despair.
"Pity me," he said. "Oh, if you are capable of pitying anything in this dreadful world, [Pg 230] pity me! My awful inheritance is closing in on me. Every day one more grain of reason leaves me. ”

“ Tranter laughed.
"These decorations," said Monsieur Dupont, "are not only crooked—they are bad. Very bad."
He lowered his voice. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes.
"Don't you see," he whispered, "that decorations can be good or bad, just as men and [Pg 26] women can be good or bad? These decorations are bad. They are a mockery of all decorations—a travesty the most heartless of the motives for which good and pure people decorate. There is nothing honest or straightforward about them. They are a mean confusion of all the symbols of joy. ”

“ Whenever the warnings showed themselves I fled to the refuge of Miss Masters's house. She bought and kept there things on which, when the mania was at its height, it satisfied me to expend my lust. But those inanimate things, though sufficient for that purpose, had no power in themselves to produce an attack of the madness. The capability to do that was reserved to a woman's beauty—the effect of which, so far, I had had no opportunity to experience. That opportunity came to me for the first time at Nice—twenty years ago. I had never seen a really beautiful woman before I saw Colette d'Orsel. ”

“ For a moment he stood still, looking intently down the room.
[Pg 31] "Copplestone," Tranter whispered to his companion.
"Mon Dieu," muttered Monsieur Dupont.
It was the face of a fanatic—wonderful, fascinating, cruel—a fanatic who neither feared God nor regarded man—an infinite egotist. The fires of a great distorted soul smoldered in his eyes. The broad, lofty forehead proclaimed a mind that might have placed him among the rulers of men—but instead he was little above the level of a clown. The destinies of a nation might have rested in the hands that he turned only to selfish fantasy. ”

“ I knew I was born a madman for my father's sins. It crept on me gradually—one sign after another—one horrible secret impulse after another. The slow, sure growth of madness." He buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God! Oh, God!"
[Pg 231] In the silence that followed the figure on the chair straightened itself with a jerk, and gibbered at him, twitching spasmodically. The woman turned away, shaking.
"I live in hell," he moaned—"in all the torment of the uttermost hell. I fly from one thing to another for respite, for relief—but there is no relief. I can only make madness of them all. ”

“ Who, or what, smashed the body of that unfortunate woman to pulp in this garden to-night?"
Monsieur Dupont's gigantic form seemed to [Pg 69] acquire a new, strange dignity—a solemnity—as though he were in the presence, or speaking, of something before which humanity must bow its head.
"A Destroyer," he whispered. "A Destroyer who strikes with neither fear nor compunction—and passes on without pity or remorse. A Destroyer who is as old as the sins of men, and as young as the futures of their children."
"You always spoke in parables," the inspector exclaimed irritably. ”

“ But he loved Christine Manderson, and love was capable of holding the madness in check, because love, in its full strength, is the strongest of all human emotions. Love is stronger than madness, and ten times stronger than sanity. ”

“ While it might be an entirely respectable thing to kill a woman to preserve her beauty, it is an entirely monstrous thing to kill her to destroy it. That is the only reason why the collector of beetles and butterflies is not the most cold-blooded of murderers. That is the only——"
"What in the name of all that's unholy," gasped the inspector, "are you going to say next?"
Monsieur Dupont leant forward as the car stopped, and opened the door.
"Next," he replied gravely, "I am going to inform you that we have arrived at Paddington, and request you to get out." ”

“ The manager struck a match, and they looked down.
The danseuse shrieked, and fainted. Mrs. Astley-Rolfe sank on her knees, sobbing, and covered her face with her hands. The financier sickened, and turned away, trembling violently.
"God!" Tranter cried—"some one must have stamped on her!"
He bent down. "Thea...." he whispered.
Something like a sob shook him. But the others did not see.
"It must have been a wild beast," shuddered the clergyman.
"It is the work of a madman," said the manager hoarsely. "He has utterly destroyed her—as he threatened."
George Copplestone stood without a tremor. ”

“ I was in the garden when Christine Manderson was killed."
She started, staring at him.
"You were in the garden too?" she cried.
"I was," he affirmed. "And I know that Monsieur Layton did not kill her."
"He didn't!" she declared. "He couldn't kill anything. He spends his time giving life—not taking it."
"The police will be satisfied that he did, and they will have a strong case. Unless we can help him by discovering the truth in time, he will not be able to clear himself. Are you prepared to work for him?" ”

“ They looked up.
"My God!" the inspector exclaimed.
On the height above them, silhouetted against the pale sky of the summer night, they saw a figure—its arms uplifted in an attitude of majesty, of triumphant defiance. The white [Pg 289] light of the moon lit up a face terrible beyond words in its pride, its sin, and its utter madness.
"I am the Beauty-Killer! I killed Colette d'Orsel! I killed Margaret McCall. I killed Christine Manderson...."
Another figure scrambled up out of the darkness on to the height, and the silver head of Oscar Winslowe gleamed in the light. ”

“ To place a beautiful woman within reach, and watch for a betrayal? That was actually the object in my mind when I called on my friend Tranter, and requested him to open to me the doors of London society. Sooner or later, I should have found, or brought about, the situation I was looking for. It might have been years—doubtless it would have been years—if he had not, by the most remarkable chance, taken me direct to that house at Richmond. Then came the death of Christine Manderson. ”

“ I knew she intended to find me alone in the garden." He paused. "I had to let her."
"Human nature," said Monsieur Dupont consolingly, "is human nature."
Silence followed. Monsieur Dupont thoughtfully puffed at his cigar.
"A crooked house in a crooked garden," he said, at length, "is a combination from which all honest people should shrink. Those who frequent it must be, for the most part, crooked people. They were, for the most part, crooked people to-night."
"It was a crooked evening from beginning to end," Tranter said wearily. ”

“ I had almost committed the crime to be serious. It is a fault that is easy in your London."
"What do you want me to do for you?" Tranter asked.
"I want," said Monsieur Dupont, "to be taken with you, as your friend from Paris, to one or two society functions—where I may be likely to meet ... what I seek."
Tranter was somewhat taken aback.
"Unconsciously," he returned—"though of course, I will make it my business to fulfill your wishes—you have really asked me a difficult thing. No man goes less into society than I do. Most people have given up inviting me." ”

“ Tranter exclaimed.
"If that most unfortunate young man had not come here and made a fool of himself last night, the police might have searched forever without finding a clue. There is no clue here. And there was the rain. The very elements sweep up after the passing of the Destroyer."
"What on earth do you mean?" Tranter cried.
"Hush!" said Monsieur Dupont.
"I am obliged to you, gentlemen," said the inspector. "Your evidence will of course be required at the inquest, of which you will receive notice. I need not detain you any longer." ”

“ He recognized him, and a flash of sanity came back to him. Under that sudden mental stimulation he recovered his power of movement, and was able to confess at least a part of the truth. Tranter was taken off his guard, and I forced him to admit his madness. I compelled him to take Winslowe and myself to Miss Masters, and she, in her turn, brought us here."
"I imagined she would," Monsieur Dupont remarked.
Copplestone drew a deep breath, and laughed aloud.
"And I am like other men! I can live as other men live. I can do what other men do. ”

“ Many of the twisting paths had been shorn of their high maze-like walls of hedge, and the paths themselves were in varying stages of conversion or disappearance. Under rapid and ruthless hands straightness was already appearing out of the confusion. Monsieur Dupont looked positively frightened.
"Mon Dieu," he exclaimed aloud, "they are making it a human garden!"
The house itself presented a no less startling aspect. It was no longer gloomy, deserted, and silent. It was teeming with life. Every window was open, and from within came [Pg 253] sounds of rapacious cleaning. ”

“ The inspector's face darkened.
"Mr. Layton," he said, with unmistakable emphasis, "you had better not decline to answer any question. I must warn you that your position may become extremely serious."
"I am afraid," Layton remarked quietly, "that you have already made up your mind that I am guilty of the crime."
"That is as it may be," replied the inspector. "I am advising you for your own good. To refuse to answer questions is not the way to allay suspicion—but to increase it."
"I realize that," the young man said. "But I still refuse."
Inspector Fay leant back in his chair patiently. ”

“ Copplestone led the way across the lawns. In the daylight Monsieur Dupont eagerly followed the maze of winding paths and hedges that had imprisoned him so helplessly in the darkness. It was a veritable looking-glass garden. The end of every path mocked its beginning. To reach an object it was necessary to walk away from it. To arrive at the bank of the river, Copplestone conducted his followers in the opposite direction.
"This garden might have been designed for a crime," the inspector remarked, as they turned yet another corner. ”

“ I do not say—at present—that they have any connection with the crime. But they are there."
"I do not smile at such instincts," Tranter said. "I quite admit that there is a strange, uncanny atmosphere about the place. And if there are secrets in it, I am equally ready to admit that they are probably bad ones."
"They are bad ones," declared Monsieur Dupont. "They could not be anything but bad ones. ”

“ The callousness of the story was so revolting that even the inspector, seasoned as he was, allowed a muttered expression of disgust to escape him. But Monsieur Dupont remained as silent and still as the house itself.
"Ten years later," continued the voice, "I went to America. For five years I had been free from any return of the madness. You can imagine the longing to be like other men—to presume on the years of immunity. ”

“ Copplestone returned, in the same weary, monotonous voice. "Of what use is Justice? Can it call her back—or mend her broken body?"
"Unfortunately, it cannot," the inspector admitted. "But it is all humanity can do. Will you answer a few questions, as clearly and briefly as possible? The great thing in a case like this is to lose no time at the beginning."
Copplestone sat down, and passed an unsteady hand across his forehead. ”

“ Every hour seemed to bring some fresh proof of the madness that was in me—some proof that made resistance more and more futile and hopeless. A thousand times I have been tempted to kill myself—but always there was the dim, desperate hope that some miraculous twist of sanity might yet deliver me. I can't [Pg 236] convey to you a tenth—a hundredth—part of the agony of that struggle. There were times when I shrank into the farthest corner of my darkest cellar, and prayed, as only a madman could pray, to be spared from the unjust curse. ”

“ Monsieur Dupont bowed his gratitude. Tranter replaced the cards, and returned to his seat.
"Copplestone is a remarkable individual, who has learnt what a multitude of sins even a slight financial connection with the Theater will cover. He puts various sums of money into the front of the house to gain unquestioned admission to the back. He has an extraordinary taste for fantasy, and is always startling his friends with some new eccentricity. He is not generally considered to be a desirable acquaintance—and certainly no man in London has less regard for the conventions." ”

“ I knew all the warning signals—the creeping in of uncontrollable thoughts—the brain pictures—the quickening of mind and body—then the grip of the madness. All I could do at such times was to collect a number of things sufficiently beautiful to satisfy my lust, and lock myself in to an orgy of destruction. ”

“ What right have you to try to judge me?"
"Judge you?" she echoed. "Who could want to judge you? Why, you are the noblest man in all the world. No one could do more good than you do. Every man, woman, and child here worships you, and would die for you." ”