CHAPTER XXXVII
Beckoning to Hankey, the detective, to follow him, Gilbert went from thehospital tent into the open air to consider quietly what he should do.He was not sorry to get out of the atmosphere of the tent, which reekedwith iodoform; where also the sight of so many poor stricken andagonized wretches harrowed his feelings.
Just outside the tent, he encountered the doctor who had conducted himto the bedside of Cooper Silwood, _alias_ James Russell.
"Did you find him quite sensible, as I said?" asked the doctor.
"Extraordinarily so," replied Gilbert, "His mind is perfectly clear,even his voice shows no weakness. One would scarcely think he is dying."
"And yet nothing can save him. For two or three hours longer he willremain in much the same condition; thereafter a state of collapse mustsupervene, which will end in death--during that period he will becomeunconscious, and remain so to the last."
"Of course, you must know," said Gilbert; "but from the strong, firmvoice he speaks in, one would imagine he is not in this desperate case."
"It is so, however. The principal mischief is internal, and does notadmit of cure."
Then the doctor hurried into the tent. What he had said had given freshpoint to those words of Silwood's--"You can do nothing against a deadman. Personal vengeance upon me is impossible." The hand of Heaven,Gilbert reflected, already lay heavy on the man.
Then he debated the offer made by Silwood. From the first he hadinclined to accept it. What he had witnessed of the calamity hadsoftened his heart; and to find Silwood cared for his wife and child inthe way he evidently did, was a discovery of a side, entirelyunsuspected, of this man's nature, which somehow appealed to Gilbert.These were sentimental influences, but became powerful reasons whenadded to the practical argument, the immediate recovery of the stolenmoney. Gilbert did not altogether believe that the money, or a largepart of it, at any rate, could not be recovered without Silwood's help,but it might be a long and tedious business, involving, likely enough,considerable litigation, expense, and delay. Then there was the secretof Morris Thornton's death to be cleared up--a thing which Silwood alonecould do.
Gilbert quickly made up his mind that the best policy was to acceptSilwood's offer. Rapidly outlining the main facts to Hankey, wholistened with an ever-increasing wonder, Gilbert desired him toaccompany him into the tent to act as witness to the statement ofSilwood.
"Well?" asked Silwood, as Gilbert bent over him.
"I agree. You will hold nothing back?"
"I am glad, for the sake of my wife and our child," said Silwood. "No,nothing shall be held back. But who is this man?" he asked, his eyesglancing at Hankey.
"I asked him to come as a witness."
"Very well; he'll be a witness to what you promise for my wife andchild, as well as of what I tell you. So be it. What do you promise forthem?"
"What do you wish me to promise exactly?"
"That you pay her three pounds a week for life, and that, should she diebefore the child, you will continue the payment to him for his life."
"Yes, I promise that, contingent----"
"Certainly, you mean contingent on your receiving the money? That isunderstood. Now, ask one of the doctors to come here?"
One of the doctors was called up.
"Doctor," said Silwood, "will you go and ask my wife, Mrs. JamesRussell, who is lying in the tent somewhere, to give you the key she hason the ribbon round her neck? Say that I sent you; give her my love, andtell her I am comfortable."
There were tears in Silwood's eyes as he spoke the last words. Seeingthem, Gilbert marvelled at the strange intricacies of the human soul,but held his peace.
"Your wife sends her love to you," said the doctor, on his return, "andbids you not fret about her. Here is the key."
"Thank you, doctor. Give the key to this gentleman here," and Silwoodwith his eyes indicated that it should be given to Gilbert. This done,the doctor retired.
"That key," Silwood resumed, "is the key of a compartment in theMinnesota Safety Deposit Vaults, in which you will find not only all themoney, in the form of bank-notes, bonds payable to bearer, and othereasily negotiable securities, that I owe to the firm of Eversleigh,Silwood and Eversleigh, but a good deal more than I owe."
"Where are these Safety Deposit Vaults?" asked Gilbert.
"In St. Paul," whispered Hankey, bending towards him.
"Yes, in St. Paul," said Silwood, who had overheard.
"And all the money is there in bonds and so forth?" asked Gilbert.
"That and more, for I have made money. Always, always, all my life, haveI longed to possess a great store of money; it was my passion--money,money, always money; always more money," said Silwood, with a passinggleam in his eyes; then a deep sigh escaped him. "You will find there isfar more than enough to recoup the firm."
Gilbert listened in amazement, revolving what manner of man this was tohave acted as he had done through all these silent years.
"And more than enough to pay that annuity to my wife and child," Silwoodwent on. "Now promise me once more that you will pay them what I haveasked, and then I will tell you the whole story. Do you promise?"
"Yes, I promise," said Gilbert.
"Then my mind is at rest, so far as they are concerned. And all iswell," said Silwood, as if he had never done anything wrong in his life.Then he began--
"I do not know quite when the idea came to me of making myself master ofthe clients' money, but, as I told you, I ever burned to be rich. Yourfather was so easy-going and unsuspecting, and he trusted me so fully,that when the idea came it found quick lodgment in my thoughts. But whathelped more than anything else, was that I was already leading a doublelife. I had married beneath me, as people would say; but the onlymoments of happiness I have had in my life connect themselves with mywife and child. It matters not how I met and came to marry her. No oneof our class dreamed I was other than Cooper Silwood, solicitor, ofLincoln's Inn. But I was also James Russell at Stepney. I experienced nodifficulty in being both; I had my disguise, and having also the keys ofthe two iron gates opening into Chancery Lane, at the top of StoneBuildings, I was able to let myself out or in at pleasure. To lead thisdouble life was easy, I say; I even liked it. When the thought came tome of enriching myself at the expense of the clients, it occurred to meto make use of James Russell to assist Cooper Silwood. Do youunderstand?"
"Yes. You purposed to transfer the securities to yourself as JamesRussell? In fact, that is what you did do, at any rate in part."
"Yes; Cooper Silwood sold to James Russell," assented Silwood. "The planworked well--worked well for years. Gradually I got possession ofeverything--save what was impossible for me to touch. And all that moneyand property I had converted into first-class bonds and shares payableto bearer, with one exception, a very important exception, when theletter came from Morris Thornton, telling us he was returning toEngland, and would make a formal examination of the securities we heldof his. I was not prepared for it; my hand was forced. I had not meantto disappear until I had completed a certain negotiation--the exceptionto which I have just referred. It was more than possible, I thought,that Thornton would come before that negotiation was complete, in whichcase I might be in great danger. The more I thought about it, thegreater the danger seemed. It was this that drove me to tell your fatherof the position to which I, as Cooper Silwood, had brought the firm. Ofcourse, I said nothing to him about James Russell."
"I don't quite follow you," said Gilbert. "Why did you tell my father atall?"
"Because I wished him, being so friendly with Thornton, to hold Morrisoff until that negotiation was complete. Do you not understand? SupposeThornton had come before my plans were ripe and asked for thatexamination, I believed your father would have been able to have stoodhim off for some time--long enough for me to get that matter settled tomy liking. Now, do you see?"
"Yes," said Gilbert, dryly, any pity he had felt for Silwooddisappearing as he listened to this heartless statement. "What was
thisimportant negotiation of which you speak?"
"I had sold some acres of land to a contractor, who had paid a heavyprice for them," said Silwood, now speaking with the indifference of aman who is telling a story that has no longer any interest for him; "butI had to be content with getting half the price in cash and half in theform of a bill. The total amount was thirty thousand pounds, the billwas for fifteen thousand, and when we heard from Thornton it still hadsome time to run. I did not discount the bill, but put it in a chamberin that large japanned box you may remember seeing in my room."
"The secret chamber!" exclaimed Gilbert.
"You know of it?"
"Did you not go one night to New Square not long ago, and open it?"
"Yes; you know that! I went to get the bill--it was due next day."
"I see. Well, you left the secret chamber open, and that showed us youwere not dead, and put us on your track."
Silwood's eyes flickered.
"The spring would not work," he said. "It had baffled me very nearlyonce or twice before, but that time it baffled me altogether. So! so! Iunderstand now why you came to St. Paul--it was the secret chamber whichgave me away, which has brought me here."
"Yes; I went to Italy," said Gilbert, "and Ucelli confessed theconspiracy you and he had entered into. He it was who told me that youand James Russell were one. James Russell was tracked to Liverpool, thento New York, and then to St. Paul."
"What a pity I did not leave that bill alone!" said Silwood, quitecalmly. "But I could not think of leaving fifteen thousand pounds behindme. That," he added, "you will find with the rest."
"Did you cash the bill?"
"Certainly, as James Russell, to whom it was payable."
"How in the world," interjected Gilbert, "shall we be able to put allthese matters right?"
"There will be plenty of money," said Silwood, "for everybody. But letme get on with my story while I am able. I told you I put the bill forthe fifteen thousand into the secret chamber. Of course I hoped Thorntonwould not come before it matured, or, if he did, that your father wouldfind means to delay the investigation of his account. But your father onthis point was firm; he said he would not deceive Thornton, though Ipressed him more than once. When I saw I could not move him, I preparedto act alone. I gave out I was about to take a holiday--it was a holidayfrom which I had no intention to return--at least, not as CooperSilwood. I meant to leave on a Saturday evening--I actually went on theSaturday morning ... and it was because of Thornton."
"Of Morris Thornton?"
"It was past midnight," said Silwood, "and I was getting ready to go toStepney, when I heard steps coming up the stairs towards my rooms inStone Buildings; the steps stopped at my door; some one knocked. I hadno wish to open the door, for I was in my disguise, so I paid noattention to the sound.
"'Whoever you are,' said a voice, 'I warn you to open the door, or Ishall tell the porter to call the police. I saw you from Chancery Lane.Come, open at once!'
"I glanced at my window, the one looking into Chancery Lane. By somefrightful carelessness I had neglected to pull down the blind, and thusit was possible enough for the man to have seen me. But what did hewant, I wondered?
"'Open at once!' said the voice again; 'or it will be the worse foryou.'
"I was in a fix, but my best course seemed to be to let the man in; so Iasked him to wait a moment, saying I was only half dressed. I hastilydonned my wig, tore off my false moustache, and put on my ordinary coatand waistcoat. Then I opened the door.
"'What is the matter?' I asked.
"The man walked right into the room without speaking, and looked allround it, as if he was searching for some one. Then I saw who it was. Itwas Morris Thornton!
"'What is the matter?' he repeated after me. 'That is what I ask you totell me, Cooper Silwood.... I arrived in London yesterday, and was takenill. Feeling better this evening, I came out to get some fresh air, andstrolled down this way. I remembered where your rooms were, and glancingup at the lighted window saw a figure passing and repassing. I wascertain it was not you. This was a bald man with a moustache.... Iwatched him for some minutes. Then I went down to the lodge and was letin, as I said I wished to see you on urgent business. Now here I am, andhere you are! Did you know about this man being here--the man I saw? Hegave me quite a start.'
"I did not speak immediately, being somewhat flurried by the suddenappearance of Thornton. He now came quite close to me, and peered intomy face. I saw he looked ill and greatly changed, and his hands wereshaking. He went on peering into my face, so that I wondered why.
"'What are you doing with that paint on your cheeks?' he asked.
"I had forgotten the stain on my face--the stain that was part of mydisguise. This question disconcerted me.
"'Was it you, Cooper Silwood, that I saw? It was! It was! What does thismean?' he demanded, visibly agitated. 'You are not the kind of man whogoes to a masked ball. One would think you were practising, rehearsingsome part ... a disguise ... seeing how it would do ... but why,Silwood, why? One would think there was something wrong--that you wereabout to abscond.'
"All this he said in jerky sentences, while his cheeks turned a horriblebluish purple. I recalled he had written to us that he was sufferingfrom heart-disease, and I was alarmed for him.
"'Calm yourself, Morris,' I said to him, soothingly, but with theopposite effect.
"'Explain, explain!' he cried, in tones of great excitement, his bodytrembling the while.
"My wits by this time had come back to me, and I assured him I hadpromised a young friend to go to a masked ball to take care of him--thatwas all; and that I could not but feel sorry he had caught me in themanner he had. In fact, I tried to laugh the matter off; but I failed todisarm his suspicions, which evidently had been keenly aroused. He satdown on a chair, breathing very heavily. I entreated him to return tohis hotel, but he declined.
"'Cooper Silwood,' he said, 'I do not believe you are telling me thetruth. I do not believe this invention of yours about the masked ball.Again I tell you, you are not that kind of man.'
"'You do not know what you are saying,' I protested, 'your illness----'
"'Enough, enough!' he cried, jumping up. Then he stood for a momentstruggling with himself as it were, clutched at his throat, staggered,and fell in a heap on the floor. I rushed forward to raise him, but hewas already dead. When I saw he was dead, I was distraught. First I puton my disguise once more, and went forth into the night, reeling like ablind man. But a few minutes' thought induced me to return. I resolvedto leave London by the earliest train, and did leave next morning."
Exhausted by this long effort, Silwood ceased speaking. Gilbert neverdoubted Silwood had spoken the truth. Besides, he had noticed how inseveral points his statements were confirmed by the evidence at theinquest on Morris Thornton. The explanation of the Mystery of Lincoln'sInn was, after all, curiously simple, once the facts were known in theirentirety.
"I believe I have told you all," said Silwood, as Gilbert stood silentlyby his bed. "Is there anything you wish to ask me? If there is, ask itnow, for I feel a dreadful weakness coming over me."
As the man spoke, a shiver shook him from head to foot.
"No. I think there is nothing else," said Gilbert, gently, his heartagain softened.
"You will not forget your promise about my wife and child?" Silwoodasked eagerly.
"I shall not."
"They need never know who Cooper Silwood was, need they?"
"Perhaps not," agreed Gilbert, but doubtingly.
"If you can, let them believe I am none other than the James Russellthey love, and who loves----"
But Silwood's voice failed him; his eyes overflowed.
"Let us go," said Gilbert to Hankey.
"What an extraordinary man!" exclaimed Hankey to Gilbert, when they werein the open air. "Wonderfully bright, too, but he chose to run crooked,not straight. Yet there was good in the man--I suppose there is in everyman."
"He was an evil, wicked ma
n," said Gilbert, speaking of Silwood as onealready dead, "but he was not all evil, all wicked."
CHAPTER XXXVIII
"What do you now intend to do?" asked the detective, after they hademerged from the hospital tent.
"Go back to St. Paul by the first train," Gilbert replied, "and see whatare the contents of that compartment in the Minnesota Safety DepositVaults. I don't doubt Silwood told the truth, but I wish to have hisstatement confirmed."
"Naturally," remarked Hankey. "And after that?"
"I think of asking you, if you can manage it, to come with me to St.Paul to-day. I should prefer to have you with me when I go to the SafetyDeposit Vaults, where you are probably well known----"
The detective nodded.
"----thereafter, I propose that you should return here, and awaitevents."
"Till Silwood is dead, I suppose you mean. And then?"
"Take care of Mrs. Russell and the child. If they wish to return toEngland, be kind enough to carry out their desire. You shall have enoughfunds from me for all purposes. If they elect to stay in this country, Iwant you to find them a home, and I will see that the income promised isremitted to you quarterly."
"Very good," said the detective. "My business in this matter is yourbusiness. I'll go and see if there's a train southwards soon."
But they had to wait some hours, and it was the morning of another daywhen they arrived in St. Paul.
Gilbert and the detective went to the Minnesota Safety Deposit Vaults,and on their representing they had received the key of the compartmentfrom James Russell, no objection was made to their entering the place,and withdrawing the papers from the receptacle in which they weredeposited. On inspection these papers were found to consist of Bank ofEngland notes, of various values from L100 to L1000, amounting in all toL40,000; of gold bonds of half a dozen different American railroads,each bond of the value of a thousand dollars, coming in the aggregate tonearly a quarter of a million sterling; of bonds of the United StatesGovernment for more than L200,000; and of miscellaneous securities, thegrand total being upwards of half a million sterling. One feature of allthese certificates, bonds, and shares, was they were all payable tobearer, just as Silwood had said, as also, of course, were the Bank ofEngland notes.
Half a million sterling!
Such was the vast sum Cooper Silwood had accumulated at the expense ofthe clients of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh.
Gilbert knew that the amount, roughly speaking, for which the firm wasresponsible was about L400,000. Here, then, was sufficient, and more, tosatisfy all claims in full, and leave a good deal over for Mrs. JamesRussell and her son. Gilbert resolved that after the obligations of thefirm were discharged, the balance should be placed in trust for her andthe boy.
Having come to this conclusion, Gilbert sent Hankey back to the scene ofthe catastrophe. Then he despatched a brief cable to his brother Ernest,saying, "Russell found. Property recovered. Returning." He was afraid toput more than these few words into the message, lest by some mischancethey should fall into the wrong hands.
Without delay, Gilbert left St. Paul for Chicago and New York, reachingthe latter city in about forty hours safely. The possession of theequivalent of half a million in a bag, which he never for a moment letout of his sight, made him extremely anxious and uneasy. During thejourney from St. Paul to New York he did not allow himself to sleep, butkept a determined eye on the bag. But no one suspected he was the bearerof such an amount of riches, and he passed comparatively unnoticed fromstart to finish.
On reaching New York, he at once went to the office of the line by whichhe had come from England, and was pleased to hear that there was a shipgoing out that very day at two o'clock in the afternoon, and that hecould sail on her if he wished. He replied that it would suit himadmirably. After paying for his passage, he produced the bag, andinquired if it could be placed in the ship's strong room, to whichassent was given. Gilbert now felt his mind was at rest.
Yet during the voyage he was visited now and again by misgivings, as hehad heard that even the strong rooms of Atlantic greyhounds have notalways been burglar-proof. Then the ship was struck by a tempest inmid-ocean, and Gilbert was afraid both he and the treasure might go tothe bottom. But at length the ship sailed into port, and there, at theside of the dock, was Ernest waiting for him.
After the two brothers had embraced, and Ernest, in reply to Gilbert'sinquiry, had told him their father was in much the same condition aswhen Gilbert had seen him last, he produced a cablegram, addressed toGilbert, which had been received at the office in Lincoln's Inn somefive days before.
"It is about Silwood, I think," said Gilbert.
The cablegram was from Hankey; it ran as follows--
"Russell dead. Wife desires return England. Writing."
"Silwood is dead," said Gilbert, briefly.
"Dead! I never thought to hear that!" exclaimed Ernest.
"I have much to tell you, Ernie; but wait until we are in the train.Besides, I must get a bag out of the ship's strong room. There may besome little delay over it; come with me."
Gilbert went back to the ship, whence, a short time afterwards, heissued, bearing the precious bag.
"Do you see this bag?" he said to his brother in a whisper. "It is worthhalf a million of money."
"Gilbert!"
"It is the truth; it contains Silwood's hoard."
In silence the brothers passed into the train for London. Once it waswell under way, Gilbert told Ernest all that had happened.
"Fancy Silwood being so attached to his wife and child!" cried Ernest."What a strange mixture he was! And now he is dead--really dead thistime! What a colossal failure he made of his life! And yet he could nothave carried out his schemes with the success he did achieve had he notbeen a man of remarkable ability."
"Yes; but he has made others suffer. Think of father!"
"Yes; and yourself, indirectly, and Kitty."
"Any news of her?" asked Gilbert, wistfully.
"No."
"Have you been again to York to see Bennet?"
"No; but Deakin, the local solicitor, has arranged for me to see him onTuesday next."
Then there fell a silence between the brothers. Ernest was thinking overwhat he had heard from Gilbert about Silwood and the recovery of themoney and the bonds; while Gilbert dwelt sadly on the image of Kitty,wondering how she was bearing up and passing the time while Bennet layin prison. Then his mind shifted to the consideration of what still laybefore Ernest and himself.
"There will be much to think of, much to do," he said to Ernest. "I meanwith respect to winding up the affairs of the firm."
"Is it necessary, do you think, to wind up its affairs?"
"We must do something. What I thought was, that a letter to the clientsshould be drawn up, stating that, as Silwood is dead and fatherincapacitated by ill-health, the firm must be wound up; but that you--ason of Francis Eversleigh, who had been for some time associated withhim in the business--proposed to begin a new business under the style ofEversleigh and Eversleigh, and would be glad to have the sameconfidence extended to you by the clients of the old firm as they hadshown to Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh. Something of thatkind--that's what I thought."
"Yes. There is one point," said Ernest, thoughtfully. "The propertiesSilwood sold, such as house property and land property; what is to bedone about them?"
"I don't think we need try to replace them. In all such cases, I wouldgo to the particular clients themselves, tell them the truth, and offerfull compensation. You must remember Silwood's hoard amounts to far morethan the firm owes, and you are perfectly entitled to make everynecessary use of it."
When the brothers arrived in London, their first care was to take thehalf-million bag to their bank, where they deposited the money and leftthe bonds in the care of the manager. Then they went to Lincoln's Inn,and proceeded to draft the letter Gilbert had suggested. The followingday these letters were despatched. One of them had a singular result; itwas that which
was addressed to Harry Bennet.
The brothers had discussed what was to be done in his case, and haddecided that, though Bennet had given a discharge to the firm, yet hemust be paid the value of the property, Beauclerk Mansions, whichSilwood had sold. So a special note had been placed at the foot of theletter sent him, apprizing him of their intention.
At the same time a letter was sent to Deakin, the York solicitor,informing him that as the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh wasbeing wound up, owing to the continued ill health of the sole remainingpartner, the firm could no longer act with him for Bennet, and further,that Mr. Gilbert Eversleigh had returned to them his brief in this case.
The first result of this was that Deakin came rushing up to London. Hehad seen Bennet, who, wild with rage and defeated spite, had ordered himto go and see what was the meaning of this change of front on the partof the Eversleighs.
"Mr. Bennet," said Deakin, "is the most reckless man I ever saw. Hebehaves like a lunatic, and says the most mad things. He tells me--ofcourse, I know it is absurd--that he can send Mr. Francis Eversleigh toprison for embezzlement, and he demands again that Mr. GilbertEversleigh appear for him at his trial."
It was Ernest Eversleigh to whom Deakin spoke. Ernest, acting on theadvice of Gilbert, told Deakin in confidence as much of the facts as wasnecessary, winding up by saying--
"My father, no doubt, might still be proceeded against, but he is out ofhis mind. Besides, I offer the fullest compensation. Taking these twothings together, is there need to say more?"
"I should say not," replied Deakin, without a moment's hesitation.
And back Deakin went to York, and acquainted Bennet with what he hadlearned. For a time Bennet refused to believe what Deakin had told himabout the recovery of the money from Silwood, but when at last he wasconvinced of it, he fell into a great surly silence, from which he couldnot be drawn. When Deakin spoke of obtaining the services of an eminentcounsel for his defence, Bennet made no reply. Instead of giving way toanger, as he usually did when he heard anything that displeased him, hesat gloomy and sullen. After trying for ten minutes to get a word outof him, and failing, Deakin left the prison.
Next morning he received a hurried summons to the Governor of thePrison's room, and there he heard that Bennet, in spite of the fact thathe was constantly watched night and day, had somehow managed to open avein in his arm and had bled to death in the night.
"The warder, who was guarding him at the time," said the Governor, "sawhim lying on his bed fast asleep, as he supposed; when it was daylightblood was noticed on the floor, and then it was found that Bennet wasdead."
"But how did he get an instrument with which to open a vein in his arm?"asked Deakin, aghast.
"The surgeon says," answered the Governor, "that the vein was bittenopen. The act was done with great determination. You saw him yesterday,I believe; was there anything in what you told him to account for thedeed?"
"I brought him news that greatly disappointed him, but nothing toaccount for this. Poor devil!"
But Deakin did not know all.
When Bennet's death became public, there were many who said he hadcheated the gallows, and few mourned for the lost life and the careergone fatally wrong.
Even Kitty Thornton, in her kind heart, could not sincerely say she wassorry he was dead. Indeed, in the years that came after, she neverthought of Harry Bennet without growing quiet and pensive far beyond herwont, as she reflected how, in one way and another, she had been savedfrom him.
* * * * *
Gilbert Eversleigh and Kitty Thornton did not come together at onceagain--the shadow of Bennet lay between them, but in the course of timethey did, as was inevitable.
"When thou doest well unto thyself," said the satirist, "all men willspeak well of thee."
And Gilbert Eversleigh, the rising barrister, backed by the beauty andwealth of his wife, is spoken well of by all the world.
The other side of life's double shield is to be seen at Ivydene, wherethere may be beheld, nursed and tended by a wife's unchanging love, anda daughter's unalterable affection, a white-haired, bent figure, fromwhose loose lips there comes the question, over and over again, "Whato'clock is it? What o'clock is it?"
THE END
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