though she suffered, no appearances of suffering were
seen on her serene face. She never had believed
in human nature, and now the girl whom she had rescued
from comparative poverty and placed in opulence had
wanted to kill her. M. Vandeloup, whom she admired
and trusted, what black infamy he was guilty of—he
had sworn most solemnly he never harmed Kitty, and
yet he was the man who had ruined her. Madame
Midas felt that the worst had come—Vandeloup
false, Kitty a murderess, her husband vanished, and
Selina dead. All the world was falling into ruins
around her, and she remained alone amid the ruins
with her enormous fortune, like a golden statue in
a deserted temple. With clasped hands, aching
heart, but impassive face, she sat waiting for the
end.
The jury returned in about half an hour, and there
was a dead silence as the foreman stood up to deliver
the verdict.
The jury found as follows:—
That the deceased, Selina Jane Sprotts, died on the
21st day of November, from the effects of poison,
namely, conia, feloniously administered by one Katherine
Marchurst, and the jury, on their oaths, say that
the said Katherine Marchurst feloniously, wilfully,
and maliciously did murder the said deceased.
That evening Kitty was arrested and lodged in the
Melbourne Gaol, to await her trial on a charge of
wilful murder.
KISMET
Of two evils it is always best to choose the least,
and as M. Vandeloup had to choose between the loss
of his popularity or his liberty, he chose to lose
the former instead of the latter. After all,
as he argued to himself, Australia at large is a small
portion of the world, and in America no one would
know anything about his little escapade in connection
with Kitty. He knew that he was in Gollipeck’s
power, and that unless he acceded to that gentleman’s
demand as to giving evidence he would be denounced
to the authorities as an escaped convict from New
Caledonia, and would be sent back there. Of course,
his evidence could not but prove detrimental to himself,
seeing how badly he had behaved to Kitty, but still
as going through the ordeal meant liberty, he did so,
and the result was as he had foreseen. Men, as
a rule, are not very squeamish, and view each other’s
failings, especially towards women, with a lenient
eye, but Vandeloup had gone too far, and the Bachelors’
Club unanimously characterised his conduct as ’damned
shady’, so a letter was sent requesting M. Vandeloup
to take his name off the books of the club. He
immediately resigned, and wrote a polite letter to
the secretary, which brought uneasy blushes to the
cheek of that gentleman by its stinging remarks about
his and his fellow clubmen’s morality.
He showed it to several of the members, but as they
all had their little redeeming vices, they determined
to take no notice, and so M. Vandeloup was left alone.
Another thing which happened was that he was socially
