Dead Men's Money

  CHAPTER XXX

  THE CARSTAIRS MOTTO

  Mr. Lindsey reflected a moment after getting that precise answer, and heglanced at me as if trying to recollect something.

  "That would be the very morning after the affair of the yacht?" heasked of me.

  But before I could speak, Mr. Paley took the words out of my mouth.

  "Quite right." he said quietly. "I knew nothing of it at the time, ofcourse, but I have read a good deal in the newspapers since. It was themorning after Sir Gilbert left Berwick in his yacht."

  "Did he mention anything about the yacht to you?" inquired Mr. Lindsey.

  "Not a word! I took it that he had come in to see me in the ordinaryway," replied the stockbroker. "He wasn't here ten minutes. I had no ideawhatever that anything had happened."

  "Before we go any further," said Mr. Lindsey, "may I ask you to tell uswhat he came for? You know that Mr. Portlethorpe is his solicitor?--I amasking the question on his behalf as well as my own."

  "I don't know why I shouldn't tell you," answered Mr. Paley. "He came onperfectly legitimate business. It was to call for some scrip which Iheld--scrip of his own, of course."

  "Which he took away with him?" suggested Mr. Lindsey.

  "Naturally!" replied the stockbroker. "That was what he came for."

  "Did he give you any hint as to where he was going?" asked Mr.Lindsey. "Did he, for instance, happen to mention that he was leavinghome for a time?"

  "Not at all," answered Mr. Paley. "He spoke of nothing but the businessthat had brought him. As I said just now, he wasn't here ten minutes."

  It was evident to me that Mr. Lindsey was still more taken aback. What wehad learned during the last half-hour seemed to surprise him. And Mr.Portlethorpe, who was sharp enough of observation, saw this, and madehaste to step into the arena.

  "Mr. Lindsey," he said, "has been much upset by the apparentlyextraordinary circumstances of Sir Gilbert Carstairs' disappearance--andso, I may say, has Sir Gilbert's sister, Mrs. Ralston. I have pointed outthat Sir Gilbert himself may have--probably has--a quite properexplanation of his movements. Wait a minute, Lindsey!" he went on, as Mr.Lindsey showed signs of restiveness. "It's my turn, I think." He lookedat Mr. Paley again. "Your transactions with Sir Gilbert have been quitein order, all through, I suppose--and quite ordinary?"

  "Quite in order, and quite ordinary," answered the stockbroker readily."He was sent to me by the manager of the Scottish-American Bank, whoknows that I do a considerable business in first-class Americansecurities and investments. Sir Gilbert told me that he was disposing ofa great deal of his property in England and wished to re-invest theproceeds in American stock. He gave me to understand that he wished tospend most of his time over there in future, as neither he nor his wifecared about Hathercleugh, though they meant to keep it up as the familyestate and headquarters. He placed considerable sums of money in my handsfrom time to time, and I invested them in accordance with hisinstructions, handing him the securities as each transaction wasconcluded. And--that's really all I know."

  Mr. Lindsey got in his word before Mr. Portlethorpe could speak again.

  "There are just two questions I should like to ask--to which nobody cantake exception, I think," he said. "One is--I gather that you've investedall the money which Sir Gilbert placed in your hands?"

  "Yes--about all," replied Mr. Paley. "I have a balance--a small balance."

  "And the other is this," continued Mr. Lindsey: "I suppose all theseAmerican securities which he now has are of such a nature that they couldbe turned into cash at any time, on any market?"

  "That is so--certainly," assented Mr. Paley. "Yes, certainly so."

  "Then that's enough for me!" exclaimed Mr. Lindsey, rising and beckoningme to follow. "Much obliged to you, sir."

  Without further ceremony he stumped out into the street, with me at hisheels, to be followed a few minutes later by Mr. Portlethorpe. Andthereupon began a warm altercation between them which continued until allthree of us were stowed away in a quiet corner of the smoking-room in thehotel at which it had been arranged Mr. Gavin Smeaton was to seek us onhis arrival--and there it was renewed with equal vigour; at least, withequal vigour on Mr. Lindsey's part. As for me, I sat before the twodisputants, my hands in my pockets, listening, as if I were judge andjury all in one, to what each had to urge.

  They were, of course, at absolutely opposite poles of thought. One manwas approaching the matter from one standpoint; the other from onediametrically opposed to it. Mr. Portlethorpe was all for minimizingthings, Mr. Lindsey all for taking the maximum attitude. Mr. Portlethorpesaid that even if we had not come to Edinburgh on a fool's errand--whichappeared to be his secret and private notion--we had at any rate got theinformation which Mr. Lindsey wanted, and had far better go home now andattend to our proper business, which, he added, was not to pry and peepinto other folks' affairs. He was convinced that Sir Gilbert Carstairswas Sir Gilbert Carstairs, and that Mrs. Ralston's and Mr. Lindsey'ssuspicions were all wrong. He failed to see any connection between SirGilbert and the Berwick mysteries and murders; it was ridiculous tosuppose it. As for the yacht incident, he admitted it looked at leaststrange; but, he added, with a half-apologetic glance at me, he wouldlike to hear Sir Gilbert's version of that affair before he himself madeup his mind about it.

  "If we can lay hands on him, you'll be hearing his version from thedock!" retorted Mr. Lindsey. "Your natural love of letting things gosmoothly, Portlethorpe, is leading you into strange courses! Manalive!--take a look at the whole thing from a dispassionate attitude!Since the fellow got hold of the Hathercleugh property, he's soldeverything, practically, but Hathercleugh itself; he's lost no time inconverting the proceeds--a couple of hundred thousand pounds!--intoforeign securities, which, says yon man Paley, are convertible into cashat any moment in any market! Something occurs--we don't know what,yet--to make him insecure in his position; without doubt, it's mixedup with Phillips and Gilverthwaite, and no doubt, afterwards, withCrone. This lad here accidentally knows something which might befatal--Carstairs tries, having, as I believe, murdered Crone, to drownMoneylaws! And what then? It's every evident that, after leavingMoneylaws, he ran his yacht in somewhere on the Scottish coast, andturned her adrift; or, which is more likely, fell in with thatfisher-fellow Robertson at Largo, and bribed him to tell a cock-and-bulltale about the whole thing--made his way to Edinburgh next morning, andpossessed himself of the rest of his securities, after which, he clearsout, to be joined somewhere by his wife, who, if what Hollins told uslast night is true--and it no doubt is,--carried certain valuables offwith her! What does it look like but that he's an impostor, who's justmade all he can out of the property while he'd the chance, and is nowaway to enjoy his ill-gotten gains? That's what I'm saying,Portlethorpe--and I insist on my common-sense view of it!"

  "And I say it's just as common-sense to insist, as I do, that it's allcapable of proper and reasonable explanation!" retorted Mr. Portlethorpe."You're a good hand at drawing deductions, Lindsey, but you're bad inyour premises! You start off by asking me to take something for granted,and I'm not fond of mental gymnastics. If you'd be strictly logical--"

  They went on arguing like that, one against the other, for a good hour,and it seemed to me that the talk they were having would have gone on forever, indefinitely, if, on the stroke of noon, Mr. Gavin Smeaton had notwalked in on us. At sight of him they stopped, and presently they weredeep in the matter of the similarity of the handwritings, Mr. Lindseyhaving brought the letter and the will with him. Deep, at any rate, Mr.Lindsey and Mr. Portlethorpe were; as for Mr. Gavin Smeaton, he appearedto be utterly amazed at the suggestion which Mr. Lindsey threw out tohim--that the father of whom he knew so little was, in reality, MichaelCarstairs.

  "Do you know what it is you're suggesting, Lindsey?" demanded Mr.Portlethorpe, suddenly. "You've got the idea into your head now that thisyoung man's father, whom he's always heard of as one Martin Smeaton, wasin strict truth the late Michael Carstairs, elder son of th
e late SirAlexander--in fact, being the wilful and headstrong man that you are,you're already positive of it?"

  "I am so!" declared Mr. Lindsey. "That's a fact, Portlethorpe."

  "Then what follows?" asked Mr. Portlethorpe. "If Mr. Smeaton there is thetrue and lawful son of the late Michael Carstairs, his name is notSmeaton at all, but Carstairs, and he's the true holder of the baronetcy,and, as his grandfather died intestate, the legal owner of the property!D'you follow that?"

  "I should be a fool if I didn't!" retorted Mr. Lindsey. "I've beenthinking of it for thirty-six hours."

  "Well--it'll have to be proved," muttered Mr. Portlethorpe. He had beenstaring hard at Mr. Gavin Smeaton ever since he came in, and suddenly helet out a frank exclamation. "There's no denying you've a strongCarstairs look on you!" said he. "Bless and save me!--this is thestrangest affair!"

  Smeaton put his hand into his pocket, and drew out a little package whichhe began to unwrap.

  "I wonder if this has anything to do with it," he said. "I remembered,thinking things over last night, that I had something which, so theWatsons used to tell me, was round my neck when I first came to them.It's a bit of gold ornament, with a motto on it. I've had it carefullylocked away for many a long year!"

  He took out of his package a heart-shaped pendant, with a much-worn goldchain attached to it, and turned it over to show an engraved inscriptionon the reverse side.

  "There's the motto," he said. "You see--_Who Will, Shall_. Whose is it?"

  "God bless us!" exclaimed Mr. Portlethorpe. "The Carstairs motto!Aye!--their motto for many a hundred years! Lindsey, this is anextraordinary thing!--I'm inclined to think you may have some right inyour notions. We must--"

  But before Mr. Portlethorpe could say what they must do, there was adiversion in our proceedings which took all interest in them clean awayfrom me, and made me forget whatever mystery there was about Carstairs,Smeaton, or anybody else. A page lad came along with a telegram in hishand asking was there any gentleman there of the name of Moneylaws? Itook the envelope from him in a whirl of wonder, and tore it open,feeling an unaccountable sense of coming trouble. And in another minutethe room was spinning round me; but the wording of the telegram wasclear enough:

  "Come home first train Maisie Dunlop been unaccountably missing sincelast evening and no trace of her. Murray."

  I flung the bit of paper on the table before the other three, and,feeling like my head was on fire, was out of the room and the hotel, andin the street and racing into the station, before one of them could finda word to put on his tongue.