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  The Black Doctor

  Bishop's Crossing is a small village lying ten miles in asouth-westerly direction from Liverpool. Here in the early seventiesthere settled a doctor named Aloysius Lana. Nothing was known locallyeither of his antecedents or of the reasons which had prompted him tocome to this Lancashire hamlet. Two facts only were certain about him;the one that he had gained his medical qualification with somedistinction at Glasgow; the other that he came undoubtedly of atropical race, and was so dark that he might almost have had a strainof the Indian in his composition. His predominant features were,however, European, and he possessed a stately courtesy and carriagewhich suggested a Spanish extraction. A swarthy skin, raven-blackhair, and dark, sparkling eyes under a pair of heavily-tufted browsmade a strange contrast to the flaxen or chestnut rustics of England,and the newcomer was soon known as "The Black Doctor of Bishop'sCrossing." At first it was a term of ridicule and reproach; as theyears went on it became a title of honour which was familiar to thewhole countryside, and extended far beyond the narrow confines of thevillage.

  For the newcomer proved himself to be a capable surgeon and anaccomplished physician. The practice of that district had been in thehands of Edward Rowe, the son of Sir William Rowe, the Liverpoolconsultant, but he had not inherited the talents of his father, and Dr.Lana, with his advantages of presence and of manner, soon beat him outof the field. Dr. Lana's social success was as rapid as hisprofessional. A remarkable surgical cure in the case of the Hon. JamesLowry, the second son of Lord Belton, was the means of introducing himto county society, where he became a favourite through the charm of hisconversation and the elegance of his manners. An absence ofantecedents and of relatives is sometimes an aid rather than animpediment to social advancement, and the distinguished individualityof the handsome doctor was its own recommendation.

  His patients had one fault--and one fault only--to find with him. Heappeared to be a confirmed bachelor. This was the more remarkablesince the house which he occupied was a large one, and it was knownthat his success in practice had enabled him to save considerable sums.At first the local matchmakers were continually coupling his name withone or other of the eligible ladies, but as years passed and Dr. Lanaremained unmarried, it came to be generally understood that for somereason he must remain a bachelor. Some even went so far as to assertthat he was already married, and that it was in order to escape theconsequence of an early misalliance that he had buried himself atBishop's Crossing. And, then, just as the matchmakers had finally givenhim up in despair, his engagement was suddenly announced to MissFrances Morton, of Leigh Hall.

  Miss Morton was a young lady who was well known upon the country-side,her father, James Haldane Morton, having been the Squire of Bishop'sCrossing. Both her parents were, however, dead, and she lived with heronly brother, Arthur Morton, who had inherited the family estate. Inperson Miss Morton was tall and stately, and she was famous for herquick, impetuous nature and for her strength of character. She met Dr.Lana at a garden-party, and a friendship, which quickly ripened intolove, sprang up between them. Nothing could exceed their devotion toeach other. There was some discrepancy in age, he being thirty-seven,and she twenty-four; but, save in that one respect, there was nopossible objection to be found with the match. The engagement was inFebruary, and it was arranged that the marriage should take place inAugust.

  Upon the 3rd of June Dr. Lana received a letter from abroad. In a smallvillage the postmaster is also in a position to be the gossip-master,and Mr. Bankley, of Bishop's Crossing, had many of the secrets of hisneighbours in his possession. Of this particular letter he remarkedonly that it was in a curious envelope, that it was in a man'shandwriting, that the postscript was Buenos Ayres, and the stamp of theArgentine Republic. It was the first letter which he had ever knownDr. Lana to have from abroad and this was the reason why his attentionwas particularly called to it before he handed it to the local postman.It was delivered by the evening delivery of that date.

  Next morning--that is, upon the 4th of June--Dr. Lana called upon MissMorton, and a long interview followed, from which he was observed toreturn in a state of great agitation. Miss Morton remained in her roomall that day, and her maid found her several times in tears. In thecourse of a week it was an open secret to the whole village that theengagement was at an end, that Dr. Lana had behaved shamefully to theyoung lady, and that Arthur Morton, her brother, was talking ofhorse-whipping him. In what particular respect the doctor had behavedbadly was unknown--some surmised one thing and some another; but it wasobserved, and taken as the obvious sign of a guilty conscience, that hewould go for miles round rather than pass the windows of Leigh Hall,and that he gave up attending morning service upon Sundays where hemight have met the young lady. There was an advertisement also in theLancet as to the sale of a practice which mentioned no names, but whichwas thought by some to refer to Bishop's Crossing, and to mean that Dr.Lana was thinking of abandoning the scene of his success. Such was theposition of affairs when, upon the evening of Monday, June 21st, therecame a fresh development which changed what had been a mere villagescandal into a tragedy which arrested the attention of the wholenation. Some detail is necessary to cause the facts of that evening topresent their full significance.

  The sole occupants of the doctor's house were his housekeeper, anelderly and most respectable woman, named Martha Woods, and a youngservant--Mary Pilling. The coachman and the surgery-boy slept out. Itwas the custom of the doctor to sit at night in his study, which wasnext the surgery in the wing of the house which was farthest from theservants' quarters. This side of the house had a door of its own forthe convenience of patients, so that it was possible for the doctor toadmit and receive a visitor there without the knowledge of anyone. Asa matter of fact, when patients came late it was quite usual for him tolet them in and out by the surgery entrance, for the maid and thehousekeeper were in the habit of retiring early.

  On this particular night Martha Woods went into the doctor's study athalf-past nine, and found him writing at his desk. She bade him goodnight, sent the maid to bed, and then occupied herself until a quarterto eleven in household matters. It was striking eleven upon the hallclock when she went to her own room. She had been there about a quarterof an hour or twenty minutes when she heard a cry or call, whichappeared to come from within the house. She waited some time, but itwas not repeated. Much alarmed, for the sound was loud and urgent, sheput on a dressing-gown, and ran at the top of her speed to the doctor'sstudy.

  "Who's there?" cried a voice, as she tapped at the door.

  "I am here, sir--Mrs. Woods."

  "I beg that you will leave me in peace. Go back to your room thisinstant!" cried the voice, which was, to the best of her belief, thatof her master. The tone was so harsh and so unlike her master's usualmanner, that she was surprised and hurt.

  "I thought I heard you calling, sir," she explained, but no answer wasgiven to her. Mrs. Woods looked at the clock as she returned to herroom, and it was then half-past eleven.

  At some period between eleven and twelve (she could not be positive asto the exact hour) a patient called upon the doctor and was unable toget any reply from him. This late visitor was Mrs. Madding, the wifeof the village grocer, who was dangerously ill of typhoid fever. Dr.Lana had asked her to look in the last thing and let him know how herhusband was progressing. She observed that the light was burning inthe study, but having knocked several times at the surgery door withoutresponse, she concluded that the doctor had been called out, and soreturned home.

  There is a short, winding drive with a lamp at the end of it leadingdown from the house to the road. As Mrs. Madding emerged from the gatea man was coming along the footpath. Thinking that it might be Dr.Lana returning from some professional visit, she waited for him, andwas surprised to see that it was Mr. Arthur Morton, the young squire.In the light of the lamp she observed that his manner was excited, andthat he carried in his hand a heavy hunting-crop. He was turning in atthe gate when s
he addressed him.

  "The doctor is not in, sir," said she.

  "How do you know that?" he asked harshly.

  "I have been to the surgery door, sir."

  "I see a light," said the young squire, looking up the drive. "That isin his study, is it not?"

  "Yes, sir; but I am sure that he is out."

  "Well, he must come in again," said young Morton, and passed throughthe gate while Mrs. Madding went upon her homeward way.

  At three o'clock that morning her husband suffered a sharp relapse, andshe was so alarmed by his symptoms that she determined to call thedoctor without delay. As she passed through the gate she was surprisedto see someone lurking among the laurel bushes. It was certainly a man,and to the best of her belief Mr. Arthur Morton. Preoccupied with herown troubles, she gave no particular attention to the incident, buthurried on upon her errand.

  When she reached the house she perceived to her surprise that the lightwas still burning in the study. She therefore tapped at the surgerydoor. There was no answer. She repeated the knocking several timeswithout effect. It appeared to her to be unlikely that the doctorwould either go to bed or go out leaving so brilliant a light behindhim, and it struck Mrs. Madding that it was possible that he might havedropped asleep in his chair. She tapped at the study window,therefore, but without result. Then, finding that there was an openingbetween the curtain and the woodwork, she looked through.

  The small room was brilliantly lighted from a large lamp on the centraltable, which was littered with the doctor's books and instruments. Noone was visible, nor did she see anything unusual, except that in thefarther shadow thrown by the table a dingy white glove was lying uponthe carpet. And then suddenly, as her eyes became more accustomed tothe light, a boot emerged from the other end of the shadow, and sherealized, with a thrill of horror, that what she had taken to be aglove was the hand of a man, who was prostrate upon the floor.Understanding that something terrible had occurred, she rang at thefront door, roused Mrs. Woods, the housekeeper, and the two women madetheir way into the study, having first dispatched the maidservant tothe police-station.

  At the side of the table, away from the window, Dr. Lana was discoveredstretched upon his back and quite dead. It was evident that he hadbeen subjected to violence, for one of his eyes was blackened and therewere marks of bruises about his face and neck. A slight thickening andswelling of his features appeared to suggest that the cause of hisdeath had been strangulation. He was dressed in his usual professionalclothes, but wore cloth slippers, the soles of which were perfectlyclean. The carpet was marked all over, especially on the side of thedoor, with traces of dirty boots, which were presumably left by themurderer. It was evident that someone had entered by the surgery door,had killed the doctor, and had then made his escape unseen. That theassailant was a man was certain, from the size of the footprints andfrom the nature of the injuries. But beyond that point the policefound it very difficult to go.

  There were no signs of robbery, and the doctor's gold watch was safe inhis pocket. He kept a heavy cash-box in the room, and this wasdiscovered to be locked but empty. Mrs. Woods had an impression that alarge sum was usually kept there, but the doctor had paid a heavy cornbill in cash only that very day, and it was conjectured that it was tothis and not to a robber that the emptiness of the box was due. Onething in the room was missing--but that one thing was suggestive. Theportrait of Miss Morton, which had always stood upon the side-table,had been taken from its frame, and carried off. Mrs. Woods hadobserved it there when she waited upon her employer that evening, andnow it was gone. On the other hand, there was picked up from the floora green eye-patch, which the housekeeper could not remember to haveseen before. Such a patch might, however, be in the possession of adoctor, and there was nothing to indicate that it was in any wayconnected with the crime.

  Suspicion could only turn in one direction, and Arthur Morton, theyoung squire, was immediately arrested. The evidence against him wascircumstantial, but damning. He was devoted to his sister, and it wasshown that since the rupture between her and Dr. Lana he had been heardagain and again to express himself in the most vindictive terms towardsher former lover. He had, as stated, been seen somewhere about eleveno'clock entering the doctor's drive with a hunting-crop in his hand.He had then, according to the theory of the police, broken in upon thedoctor, whose exclamation of fear or of anger had been loud enough toattract the attention of Mrs. Woods. When Mrs. Woods descended, Dr.Lana had made up his mind to talk it over with his visitor, and had,therefore, sent his housekeeper back to her room. This conversationhad lasted a long time, had become more and more fiery, and had endedby a personal struggle, in which the doctor lost his life. The fact,revealed by a post-mortem, that his heart was much diseased--an ailmentquite unsuspected during his life--would make it possible that deathmight in his case ensue from injuries which would not be fatal to ahealthy man. Arthur Morton had then removed his sister's photograph,and had made his way homeward, stepping aside into the laurel bushes toavoid Mrs. Madding at the gate. This was the theory of theprosecution, and the case which they presented was a formidable one.

  On the other hand, there were some strong points for the defence.Morton was high-spirited and impetuous, like his sister, but he wasrespected and liked by everyone, and his frank and honest nature seemedto be incapable of such a crime. His own explanation was that he wasanxious to have a conversation with Dr. Lana about some urgent familymatters (from first to last he refused even to mention the name of hissister). He did not attempt to deny that this conversation wouldprobably have been of an unpleasant nature. He had heard from apatient that the doctor was out, and he therefore waited until aboutthree in the morning for his return, but as he had seen nothing of himup to that hour, he had given it up and had returned home. As to hisdeath, he knew no more about it than the constable who arrested him.He had formerly been an intimate friend of the deceased man; butcircumstances, which he would prefer not to mention, had brought abouta change in his sentiments.

  There were several facts which supported his innocence. It was certainthat Dr. Lana was alive and in his study at half-past eleven o'clock.Mrs. Woods was prepared to swear that it was at that hour that she hadheard his voice. The friends of the prisoner contended that it wasprobable that at that time Dr. Lana was not alone. The sound which hadoriginally attracted the attention of the housekeeper, and her master'sunusual impatience that she should leave him in peace, seemed to pointto that. If this were so then it appeared to be probable that he hadmet his end between the moment when the housekeeper heard his voice andthe time when Mrs. Madding made her first call and found it impossibleto attract his attention. But if this were the time of his death, thenit was certain that Mr. Arthur Morton could not be guilty, as it wasAFTER this that she had met the young squire at the gate.

  If this hypothesis were correct, and someone was with Dr. Lana beforeMrs. Madding met Mr. Arthur Morton, then who was this someone, and whatmotives had he for wishing evil to the doctor? It was universallyadmitted that if the friends of the accused could throw light uponthis, they would have gone a long way towards establishing hisinnocence. But in the meanwhile it was open to the public to say--asthey did say--that there was no proof that anyone had been there at allexcept the young squire; while, on the other hand, there was ampleproof that his motives in going were of a sinister kind. When Mrs.Madding called, the doctor might have retired to his room, or he might,as she thought at the time, have gone out and returned afterwards tofind Mr. Arthur Morton waiting for him. Some of the supporters of theaccused laid stress upon the fact that the photograph of his sisterFrances, which had been removed from the doctor's room, had not beenfound in her brother's possession. This argument, however, did notcount for much, as he had ample time before his arrest to burn it or todestroy it. As to the only positive evidence in the case--the muddyfootmarks upon the floor--they were so blurred by the softness of thecarpet that it was impossible to make any trustworthy dedu
ction fromthem. The most that could be said was that their appearance was notinconsistent with the theory that they were made by the accused, and itwas further shown that his boots were very muddy upon that night.There had been a heavy shower in the afternoon, and all boots wereprobably in the same condition.

  Such is a bald statement of the singular and romantic series of eventswhich centred public attention upon this Lancashire tragedy. Theunknown origin of the doctor, his curious and distinguishedpersonality, the position of the man who was accused of the murder, andthe love affair which had preceded the crimes all combined to make theaffair one of those dramas which absorb the whole interest of a nation.Throughout the three kingdoms men discussed the case of the BlackDoctor of Bishop's Crossing, and many were the theories put forward toexplain the facts; but it may safely be said that among them all therewas not one which prepared the minds of the public for theextraordinary sequel, which caused so much excitement upon the firstday of the trial, and came to a climax upon the second. The long filesof the Lancaster Weekly with their report of the case lie before me asI write, but I must content myself with a synopsis of the case up tothe point when, upon the evening of the first day, the evidence of MissFrances Morton threw a singular light upon the case.

  Mr. Porlock Carr, the counsel for the prosecution, had marshalled hisfacts with his usual skill, and as the day wore on, it became more andmore evident how difficult was the task which Mr. Humphrey, who hadbeen retained for the defence, had before him. Several witnesses wereput up to swear to the intemperate expressions which the young squirehad been heard to utter about the doctor, and the fiery manner in whichhe resented the alleged ill-treatment of his sister. Mrs. Maddingrepeated her evidence as to the visit which had been paid late at nightby the prisoner to the deceased, and it was shown by another witnessthat the prisoner was aware that the doctor was in the habit of sittingup alone in this isolated wing of the house, and that he had chosenthis very late hour to call because he knew that his victim would thenbe at his mercy. A servant at the squire's house was compelled toadmit that he had heard his master return about three that morning,which corroborated Mrs. Madding's statement that she had seen him amongthe laurel bushes near the gate upon the occasion of her second visit.The muddy boots and an alleged similarity in the footprints were dulydwelt upon, and it was felt when the case for the prosecution had beenpresented that, however circumstantial it might be, it was none theless so complete and so convincing, that the fate of the prisoner wassealed, unless something quite unexpected should be disclosed by thedefence. It was three o'clock when the prosecution closed. Athalf-past four, when the court rose, a new and unlooked-for developmenthad occurred. I extract the incident, or part of it, from the journalwhich I have already mentioned, omitting the preliminary observationsof the counsel.

  Considerable sensation was caused in the crowded court when the firstwitness called for the defence proved to be Miss Frances Morton, thesister of the prisoner. Our readers will remember that the young ladyhad been engaged to Dr. Lana, and that it was his anger over the suddentermination of this engagement which was thought to have driven herbrother to the perpetration of this crime. Miss Morton had not,however, been directly implicated in the case in any way, either at theinquest or at the police-court proceedings, and her appearance as theleading witness for the defence came as a surprise upon the public.

  Miss Frances Morton, who was a tall and handsome brunette, gave herevidence in a low but clear voice, though it was evident throughoutthat she was suffering from extreme emotion. She alluded to herengagement to the doctor, touched briefly upon its termination, whichwas due, she said, to personal matters connected with his family, andsurprised the court by asserting that she had always considered herbrother's resentment to be unreasonable and intemperate. In answer toa direct question from her counsel, she replied that she did not feelthat she had any grievance whatever against Dr. Lana, and that in heropinion he had acted in a perfectly honourable manner. Her brother, onan insufficient knowledge of the facts, had taken another view, and shewas compelled to acknowledge that, in spite of her entreaties, he haduttered threats of personal violence against the doctor, and had, uponthe evening of the tragedy, announced his intention of "having it outwith him." She had done her best to bring him to a more reasonableframe of mind, but he was very headstrong where his emotions orprejudices were concerned.

  Up to this point the young lady's evidence had appeared to make againstthe prisoner rather than in his favour. The questions of her counsel,however, soon put a very different light upon the matter, and disclosedan unexpected line of defence.

  Mr. Humphrey: Do you believe your brother to be guilty of this crime?

  The Judge: I cannot permit that question, Mr. Humphrey. We are hereto decide upon questions of fact--not of belief.

  Mr. Humphrey: Do you know that your brother is not guilty of the deathof Doctor Lana?

  Miss Morton: Yes.

  Mr. Humphrey: How do you know it?

  Miss Morton: Because Dr. Lana is not dead.

  There followed a prolonged sensation in court, which interrupted theexamination of the witness.

  Mr. Humphrey: And how do you know, Miss Morton, that Dr. Lana is notdead?

  Miss Morton: Because I have received a letter from him since the dateof his supposed death.

  Mr. Humphrey: Have you this letter?

  Miss Morton: Yes, but I should prefer not to show it.

  Mr. Humphrey: Have you the envelope?

  Miss Morton: Yes, it is here.

  Mr. Humphrey: What is the post-mark?

  Miss Morton: Liverpool.

  Mr. Humphrey: And the date?

  Miss Morton: June the 22nd.

  Mr. Humphrey: That being the day after his alleged death. Are youprepared to swear to this handwriting, Miss Morton?

  Miss Morton: Certainly.

  Mr. Humphrey: I am prepared to call six other witnesses, my lord, totestify that this letter is in the writing of Doctor Lana.

  The Judge: Then you must call them tomorrow.

  Mr. Porlock Carr (counsel for the prosecution): In the meantime, mylord, we claim possession of this document, so that we may obtainexpert evidence as to how far it is an imitation of the handwriting ofthe gentleman whom we still confidently assert to be deceased. I neednot point out that the theory so unexpectedly sprung upon us may proveto be a very obvious device adopted by the friends of the prisoner inorder to divert this inquiry. I would draw attention to the fact thatthe young lady must, according to her own account, have possessed thisletter during the proceedings at the inquest and at the police-court.She desires us to believe that she permitted these to proceed, althoughshe held in her pocket evidence which would at any moment have broughtthem to an end.

  Mr. Humphrey. Can you explain this, Miss Morton?

  Miss Morton: Dr. Lana desired his secret to be preserved.

  Mr. Porlock Carr: Then why have you made this public?

  Miss Morton: To save my brother.

  A murmur of sympathy broke out in court, which was instantly suppressedby the Judge.

  The Judge: Admitting this line of defence, it lies with you, Mr.Humphrey, to throw a light upon who this man is whose body has beenrecognized by so many friends and patients of Dr. Lana as being that ofthe doctor himself.

  A Juryman: Has anyone up to now expressed any doubt about the matter?

  Mr. Porlock Carr: Not to my knowledge.

  Mr. Humphrey: We hope to make the matter clear.

  The Judge: Then the court adjourns until tomorrow.

  This new development of the case excited the utmost interest among thegeneral public. Press comment was prevented by the fact that the trialwas still undecided, but the question was everywhere argued as to howfar there could be truth in Miss Morton's declaration, and how far itmight be a daring ruse for the purpose of saving her brother. Theobvious dilemma in which the missing doctor stood was that if by anyextraordinary chance he was not dead,
then he must be held responsiblefor the death of this unknown man, who resembled him so exactly, andwho was found in his study. This letter which Miss Morton refused toproduce was possibly a confession of guilt, and she might find herselfin the terrible position of only being able to save her brother fromthe gallows by the sacrifice of her former lover. The court nextmorning was crammed to overflowing, and a murmur of excitement passedover it when Mr. Humphrey was observed to enter in a state of emotion,which even his trained nerves could not conceal, and to confer with theopposing counsel. A few hurried words--words which left a look ofamazement upon Mr. Porlock Carr's face--passed between them, and thenthe counsel for the defence, addressing the Judge, announced that, withthe consent of the prosecution, the young lady who had given evidenceupon the sitting before would not be recalled.

  The Judge: But you appear, Mr. Humphrey, to have left matters in a veryunsatisfactory state.

  Mr. Humphrey: Perhaps, my lord, my next witness may help to clear themup.

  The Judge: Then call your next witness.

  Mr. Humphrey: I call Dr. Aloysius Lana.

  The learned counsel has made many telling remarks in his day, but hehas certainly never produced such a sensation with so short a sentence.The court was simply stunned with amazement as the very man whose fatehad been the subject of so much contention appeared bodily before themin the witness-box. Those among the spectators who had known him atBishop's Crossing saw him now, gaunt and thin, with deep lines of careupon his face. But in spite of his melancholy bearing and despondentexpression, there were few who could say that they had ever seen a manof more distinguished presence. Bowing to the judge, he asked if hemight be allowed to make a statement, and having been duly informedthat whatever he said might be used against him, he bowed once more,and proceeded:

  "My wish," said he, "is to hold nothing back, but to tell with perfectfrankness all that occurred upon the night of the 21st of June. Had Iknown that the innocent had suffered, and that so much trouble had beenbrought upon those whom I love best in the world, I should have comeforward long ago; but there were reasons which prevented these thingsfrom coming to my ears. It was my desire that an unhappy man shouldvanish from the world which had known him, but I had not foreseen thatothers would be affected by my actions. Let me to the best of myability repair the evil which I have done.

  "To anyone who is acquainted with the history of the Argentine Republicthe name of Lana is well known. My father, who came of the best bloodof old Spain, filled all the highest offices of the State, and wouldhave been President but for his death in the riots of San Juan. Abrilliant career might have been open to my twin brother Ernest andmyself had it not been for financial losses which made it necessarythat we should earn our own living. I apologize, sir, if these detailsappear to be irrelevant, but they are a necessary introduction to thatwhich is to follow.

  "I had, as I have said, a twin brother named Ernest, whose resemblanceto me was so great that even when we were together people could see nodifference between us. Down to the smallest detail we were exactly thesame. As we grew older this likeness became less marked because ourexpression was not the same, but with our features in repose the pointsof difference were very slight.

  "It does not become me to say too much of one who is dead, the more soas he is my only brother, but I leave his character to those who knewhim best. I will only say--for I HAVE to say it--that in my earlymanhood I conceived a horror of him, and that I had good reason for theaversion which filled me. My own reputation suffered from his actions,for our close resemblance caused me to be credited with many of them.Eventually, in a peculiarly disgraceful business, he contrived to throwthe whole odium upon me in such a way that I was forced to leave theArgentine for ever, and to seek a career in Europe. The freedom fromhis hated presence more than compensated me for the loss of my nativeland. I had enough money to defray my medical studies at Glasgow, andI finally settled in practice at Bishop's Crossing, in the firmconviction that in that remote Lancashire hamlet I should never hear ofhim again.

  "For years my hopes were fulfilled, and then at last he discovered me.Some Liverpool man who visited Buenos Ayres put him upon my track. Hehad lost all his money, and he thought that he would come over andshare mine. Knowing my horror of him, he rightly thought that I wouldbe willing to buy him off. I received a letter from him saying that hewas coming. It was at a crisis in my own affairs, and his arrivalmight conceivably bring trouble, and even disgrace, upon some whom Iwas especially bound to shield from anything of the kind. I took stepsto insure that any evil which might come should fall on me only, andthat"--here he turned and looked at the prisoner--"was the cause ofconduct upon my part which has been too harshly judged. My only motivewas to screen those who were dear to me from any possible connectionwith scandal or disgrace. That scandal and disgrace would come with mybrother was only to say that what had been would be again.

  "My brother arrived himself one night not very long after my receipt ofthe letter. I was sitting in my study after the servants had gone tobed, when I heard a footstep upon the gravel outside, and an instantlater I saw his face looking in at me through the window. He was aclean-shaven man like myself, and the resemblance between us was stillso great that, for an instant, I thought it was my own reflection inthe glass. He had a dark patch over his eye, but our features wereabsolutely the same. Then he smiled in a sardonic way which had been atrick of his from his boyhood, and I knew that he was the same brotherwho had driven me from my native land, and brought disgrace upon whathad been an honourable name. I went to the door and I admitted him.That would be about ten o'clock that night.

  "When he came into the glare of the lamp, I saw at once that he hadfallen upon very evil days. He had walked from Liverpool, and he wastired and ill. I was quite shocked by the expression upon his face.My medical knowledge told me that there was some serious internalmalady. He had been drinking also, and his face was bruised as theresult of a scuffle which he had had with some sailors. It was tocover his injured eye that he wore this patch, which he removed when heentered the room. He was himself dressed in a pea-jacket and flannelshirt, and his feet were bursting through his boots. But his povertyhad only made him more savagely vindictive towards me. His hatred roseto the height of a mania. I had been rolling in money in England,according to his account, while he had been starving in South America.I cannot describe to you the threats which he uttered or the insultswhich he poured upon me. My impression is, that hardships anddebauchery had unhinged his reason. He paced about the room like awild beast, demanding drink, demanding money, and all in the foulestlanguage. I am a hot-tempered man, but I thank God that I am able tosay that I remained master of myself, and that I never raised a handagainst him. My coolness only irritated him the more. He raved, hecursed, he shook his fists in my face, and then suddenly a horriblespasm passed over his features, he clapped his hand to his side, andwith a loud cry he fell in a heap at my feet. I raised him up andstretched him upon the sofa, but no answer came to my exclamations, andthe hand which I held in mine was cold and clammy. His diseased hearthad broken down. His own violence had killed him.

  "For a long time I sat as if I were in some dreadful dream, staring atthe body of my brother. I was aroused by the knocking of Mrs. Woods,who had been disturbed by that dying cry. I sent her away to bed.Shortly afterwards a patient tapped at the surgery door, but as I tookno notice, he or she went off again. Slowly and gradually as I satthere a plan was forming itself in my head in the curious automatic wayin which plans do form. When I rose from my chair my future movementswere finally decided upon without my having been conscious of anyprocess of thought. It was an instinct which irresistibly inclined metowards one course.

  "Ever since that change in my affairs to which I have alluded, Bishop'sCrossing had become hateful to me. My plans of life had been ruined,and I had met with hasty judgments and unkind treatment where I hadexpected sympathy. It is true that any danger of scandal from mybrothe
r had passed away with his life; but still, I was sore about thepast, and felt that things could never be as they had been. It may bethat I was unduly sensitive, and that I had not made sufficientallowance for others, but my feelings were as I describe. Any chanceof getting away from Bishop's Crossing and of everyone in it would bemost welcome to me. And here was such a chance as I could never havedared to hope for, a chance which would enable me to make a clean breakwith the past.

  "There was this dead man lying upon the sofa, so like me that save forsome little thickness and coarseness of the features there was nodifference at all. No one had seen him come and no one would miss him.We were both clean-shaven, and his hair was about the same length as myown. If I changed clothes with him, then Dr. Aloysius Lana would befound lying dead in his study, and there would be an end of anunfortunate fellow, and of a blighted career. There was plenty of readymoney in the room, and this I could carry away with me to help me tostart once more in some other land. In my brother's clothes I couldwalk by night unobserved as far as Liverpool, and in that great seaportI would soon find some means of leaving the country. After my losthopes, the humblest existence where I was unknown was far preferable,in my estimation, to a practice, however successful, in Bishop'sCrossing, where at any moment I might come face to face with those whomI should wish, if it were possible, to forget. I determined to effectthe change.

  "And I did so. I will not go into particulars, for the recollection isas painful as the experience; but in an hour my brother lay, dresseddown to the smallest detail in my clothes, while I slunk out by thesurgery door, and taking the back path which led across some fields, Istarted off to make the best of my way to Liverpool, where I arrivedthe same night. My bag of money and a certain portrait were all Icarried out of the house, and I left behind me in my hurry the shadewhich my brother had been wearing over his eye. Everything else of hisI took with me.

  "I give you my word, sir, that never for one instant did the idea occurto me that people might think that I had been murdered, nor did Iimagine that anyone might be caused serious danger through thisstratagem by which I endeavoured to gain a fresh start in the world.On the contrary, it was the thought of relieving others from the burdenof my presence which was always uppermost in my mind. A sailing vesselwas leaving Liverpool that very day for Corunna, and in this I took mypassage, thinking that the voyage would give me time to recover mybalance, and to consider the future. But before I left my resolutionsoftened. I bethought me that there was one person in the world towhom I would not cause an hour of sadness. She would mourn me in herheart, however harsh and unsympathetic her relatives might be. Sheunderstood and appreciated the motives upon which I had acted, and ifthe rest of her family condemned me, she, at least, would not forget.And so I sent her a note under the seal of secrecy to save her from abaseless grief. If under the pressure of events she broke that seal,she has my entire sympathy and forgiveness.

  "It was only last night that I returned to England, and during all thistime I have heard nothing of the sensation which my supposed death hadcaused, nor of the accusation that Mr. Arthur Morton had been concernedin it. It was in a late evening paper that I read an account of theproceedings of yesterday, and I have come this morning as fast as anexpress train could bring me to testify to the truth."

  Such was the remarkable statement of Dr. Aloysius Lana which broughtthe trial to a sudden termination. A subsequent investigationcorroborated it to the extent of finding out the vessel in which hisbrother Ernest Lana had come over from South America. The ship'sdoctor was able to testify that he had complained of a weak heartduring the voyage, and that his symptoms were consistent with such adeath as was described.

  As to Dr. Aloysius Lana, he returned to the village from which he hadmade so dramatic a disappearance, and a complete reconciliation waseffected between him and the young squire, the latter havingacknowledged that he had entirely misunderstood the other's motives inwithdrawing from his engagement. That another reconciliation followedmay be judged from a notice extracted from a prominent column in theMorning Post:

  "A marriage was solemnized upon September 19th, by the Rev. StephenJohnson, at the parish church of Bishop's Crossing, between AloysiusXavier Lana, son of Don Alfredo Lana, formerly Foreign Minister of theArgentine Republic, and Frances Morton, only daughter of the late JamesMorton, J.P., of Leigh Hall, Bishop's Crossing, Lancashire."