He has got himself into a serious scrape.'
I should have made a bad detective policeman. When I hear anything that interests or excites me, my face has got a habit of owning it. Butler had merely to look at me, and to see that he might pass over certain explanations which he had been prepared to offer.
'Mrs Parley told me, sir, that you had permitted her husband to speak to you. May I take it for granted that you have heard of the governess? Parley met the woman in the street. He was struck by her personal appearance; he got into conversation with her; he took her into a restaurant, and gave her a dinner; he heard her interesting story; he fell in love with her, like an infernal old fool -- oh, I beg your pardon!'
'Quite needless to apologise, Mr Butler. When he permitted the woman to be governess to his children, he behaved like a scoundrel, as well as a fool. Go on. You have discovered, of course, what object she has in establishing herself in Parley's house?'
'I will ask leave to tell you first, sir, how I made the discovery.'
'Why?'
'Because you won't believe who the woman really is, unless I convince you beforehand that I have committed no mistake.'
'Is she a person of celebrity?'
'She is known wherever there is a newspaper published.'
'And conceals herself, of course,' I said, 'under an assumed name?'
'And what is more, sir, she would never have been found out -- but for the wife's jealousy. Everybody but that old woman was wheedled into liking Miss Beaumont. Mrs Parley believed the charming governess to be an imposter, and, being determined to expose her, applied to me for advice. The one morsel of evidence that induced me to look into the matter, came from the servant girl. Miss Beaumont's bedroom was at the back of the house. One night the servant heard her softly open her window, and saw her empty her wash-hand basin into the garden. The customary means of emptying her basin, were, of course, ready and waiting in her room. Have you ever dropped into an actor's dressing-room, sir, when he has done his work on the stage?'
'Sometimes.'
'Have you accidentally looked at the basin when he washes his face before he goes home?'
'Not that I remember.'
'In such cases, sir, the actor often leaves, what you may call, a tinge of his complexion in the water; and the colour might strike an observant person. If I had not begun life on the stage, it would never have occurred to me that Miss Beaumont's reason for privately emptying her basin might be connected with a false complexion -- occasionally removed, you know, at night, and put on again the next morning. A mere guess, you will say, and more likely to be wrong than right. I don't dispute it; I only say that my guess encouraged me to make one or two inquiries. It's needless to trouble you, sir, by speaking of the difficulties that I found in my way. Let me only say that I contrived to get the better of them. Last night, after old Parley was safe in bed, his wife and his servant and I invaded the sanctuary of Miss Beaumont's room. We were not at all afraid of waking the lady, having taken the precaution (at supper time) of giving her -- let us say, the blessing of a good night's rest. She had seemingly been a little irritable and restless before she went to sleep. At any rate, her wig was thrown on the floor. We passed by that, and went to the bed. She lay on her back; her mouth was open, and her arms were flung out on either side of her. Her own pretty fair hair was not very long; and her false colour (she was disguised, sir, as a dark lady in public) was left that night on her face and neck and hands. So far, we had only discovered that she was, what Mrs Parley believed her to be -- an imposter, unknown. It was left for me to find out who the woman really was. The fastening of her night-dress round the throat had given way. Her bosom was exposed. Upon my soul I was terrified when the truth burst on me! There it was, sir, and no mistake -- there, on the right side, under the right breast --'
I started out of my chair. On my writing-table lay a handbill, which I had read and re-read till I knew it by heart. It had been distributed by the London authorities throughout the United&nbp;Kingdom; and it contained the description of a woman suspected of a terrible crime, who had baffled the pursuit of the police. I looked at the handbill; I looked at the man who was speaking to me.
'Good God!' I cried, 'did you see the scar?'
'I saw it, Mr Sheriff, as plainly as I see you.'
'And the false eye-tooth on the left side of her mouth?'
'Yes, sir -- with the gold fastening to speak for it.'
Years have passed since the conversation took place which I have just related. But some persons must remember a famous criminal trail in London -- and would recognise, if I felt myself at liberty to mention it, the name of the most atrocious murderess of modern times.
VI The warrant was issued for the woman's arrest. Competent witnesses identified her, and the preliminaries of the law took their course.
To me, the serious part of the discovery was the part which cast suspicion on the unfortunate Benjamin Parley.