I determined to go
and bully the impudent hag into a confession; but of course
Wilderspin was the last man I should choose to accompany me on such
a mission. Your relative, Cyril Aylwin, was, as I believed, on the
Continent, expecting Wilderspin to join him there, or I might have
taken him with me.
I have always had great influence over Wilderspin, and I easily
persuaded him to remain in the studio while I went myself to the
woman's address, which he gave me. I knew that if the model were
really dead she would have to be buried by the parish at a pauper
funeral, that is to say, lowered into a deep pit with other paupers.
It was painful to me to think of this, and I determined to get her
buried myself. So I took a hansom and drove to the squalid court in
the neighbourhood of Holborn, where the woman lived.
On reaching the house, I found the door open. Wilderspin had
described to me the room occupied by Mrs. Gudgeon, so I went at once
upstairs. I found the model upon a mattress, her features horribly
contorted, lying in the same clothes apparently in which she had
fallen when seized.
Pages:
744
745
746
747
748
749
750
751
752
753
754
755
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768