The Wrong Letter
In the stillness of the night the sound of a car was heard. Sinclair
went to the door and waited.
Out of the blackness the car emerged, and came to rest at the door.
From the inside issued Sanders. His face was set and grim. Without a
word he walked into the house, and into the dining-room. Allery was
sitting where he had sat immovable all the evening. Sanders took off
his great coat, and took out his revolver and tossed it on the table.
“Let me have a drink,” he said. “I’m done up.”
“Tell us all about it,” said Sinclair, pouring out a drink and handing
it to him.
“Where’s Mabel?” said Sanders to Allery.
“She went to lie down, but said she wanted to be called directly there
was any news. I sent for her when I heard the car.”
Mabel came in looking woefully drawn and pale. She was in _négligé_
costume.
“Well?” she said in a dull voice.
“It’s all over. I chased the car, but we had no chance of catching it.
By a sheer fluke at the little village of Paxton, we saw men standing
about which seemed strange at this hour, and happened to ask whether
anything had happened. It appeared that a car had smashed up at the
bend. A bad smash.”
“And Mr. Collins?” said the girl.
“I should have thought your first thought would have been for your
brother,” said Sanders.
“Let’s have the news,” said Allery, crossly.
“I am thankful to say that Watson is safe and hardly injured at all. I
saw him, and he is coming on as soon as he has made his statement to
the Police. Your Inspector came along, and he is bringing Watson
back.”
“And the other,” said Allery, almost in a whisper.
“Dead!” said Sanders solemnly.
The silence was broken by a woman’s sobs. Mabel had thrown herself
down on the sofa, and was weeping bitterly. Sanders was going to her,
but Allery motioned him back. “Let her alone,” he said. “She has had
an awful time of it.”
“You will be better in bed,” he said gently to her. “Let me fetch your
old nurse.”
The faithful old servant had been hovering about all the evening. She
came in and put her arm about the weeping girl, and led her from the
room.
“Here he is,” said Allery, jumping to his feet, as the sound of a car
was heard. Watson and the Inspector came in, the former looking very
white and shaken.
“A bad smash, sir,” said the Inspector to Sinclair, “they must have
been going at a cracking pace. I have a full statement from
witnesses.”
“Thank you, Miles,” said Sinclair, handing him a drink. “I will send
for you to-morrow, and there will be a report to draw up. The matter
is more serious than you know. At present a discreet silence is best,
you understand.”
“Very good, sir,” said the other, almost giving a wink, and withdrew.
There was an awkward silence in the room.
“Whatever is the meaning of the whole business,” said Watson. “I am
all in the dark.”
“Did Collins tell you nothing on the way?” said Sinclair.
“No, he came and said that it was absolutely necessary for us to get
to London at once. He said the honour of my father’s name was
involved, and that the matter must be kept secret, especially from the
police. He hinted that there was some secret connected with my
father’s past life. He was so insistent that I went blindly with him.”
“You have had a lucky escape,” said Sinclair. “Collins, in my view,
was the murderer of your father.”
“What!” said Watson, starting forward in his seat.
“The others here are sceptical, they cannot believe it. It all hangs
on a document which your father said he had hidden. He wrote and told
me.” He took the letter from his pocket, and handed it to Watson, who
read it with a puzzled air.
“But I don’t understand. He says he hid it where he once put his will
in my presence.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why did Collins want to go to London?”
“To get it, I suppose,” said Sinclair.
“But it’s not there at all; it’s here,” said Watson.
In breathless silence he rose and walked to the fireplace. Reaching
up, he turned the portrait of Sir James from the wall. Behind was the
oak panelling. Sliding a panel back he put his hand and drew out some
papers, and brought them to the light.
One was a dusty envelope, tied and sealed. The other was new.
Picking up the first, Watson said with some emotion:
“When we had our last interview in this room, before I went to South
America, my father told me he had made a will cutting me completely
out, and had left this with Mr. Allery. Isn’t that so?”
“That is quite correct,” said Allery. “I tried to persuade him not to
do so, in spite of the opinion I then had of you, but he would not
make any change.”
“Well, he told me here, he had made another dated after that. He said,
‘I am going to hide it here. No one knows of the existence of this
place, and I am placing you on your honour. If you come back having
redeemed your character, and with a clear conscience, I will bring out
this will, if I am alive. If I am dead you can produce it, if you
think you have made good.’ He was a strange man and had curious ideas,
but he was absolutely just.”
“That accounts for the Will he made some little time ago, bringing you
back,” said Allery. “I see it all now.”
“But the other document?” said Sinclair impatiently. “Of course we
supposed it was in the London house. I thought he would have it with
him, and so did Collins, evidently.”
Watson picked up the envelope, and broke the seal.
Within was a roll of paper, which he unfolded, and laid on the table.
The feeling in the room was intense.
The light shone full on the writing, and the men leant forward to scan
the words. It seemed almost as though the dead man was with them
speaking from the tomb his awful accusation.
Watson read in a firm voice.
“To my son.”
“My dearest boy,
“If you ever read this I will have passed for ever from your sight.
I have longed for you for years, and have bitterly repented the
hasty action which drove you from my side, though at the time I
thought I was acting for your ultimate good. I pray to God that you
may be still alive, and may return to take your place here.
“I can write no more as to this as the time is short. A great menace
hangs over me, and I feel that my life may be taken at any time. I
will be brief.
“In my capacity of Home Secretary it was necessary for me to be
acquainted with the most dreadful secrets of crime, and criminals.
“Among the most baffling problems of modern times has been the
personality of a master criminal, a blackmailer, forger and rogue,
whose diabolical cunning had eluded the police completely. Even his
name and residence were entirely unknown, though he had gone under
several aliases for blackmailing purposes. He seemed to know every
shady secret in Society.”
“Webb or Atkins,” said Sinclair excitedly. “The man we have been
trying to find for years.”
“Go on,” said Allery.
“Some few days ago I received a letter from Sylvester Collins, the
Investigator, who was actually trying to find this criminal. Several
of the highest in the land had been asking me to locate this man, as
their lives were being made a misery by him. Collins promised to
send a report on the matter. When I opened the letter he sent me,
the whole world seemed to go round, and for minutes I could not
collect my thoughts. Instead of the letter I had expected, there was
a typewritten document to the Duke of ——— demanding instant payment
of a very large sum, and in the case of refusal a threat that
incriminating documents of the worst character would be sent to the
Duchess.
“It was on perfectly plain paper, with no address, but giving
careful instructions as to how the money was to be paid in Paris.
“Even then I did not grasp the full meaning of what I read. The note
had come by hand, straight from Collins but within a few moments I
received a letter by hand from the Duke, containing the note I was
expecting from Collins, which, he said, had evidently been sent to
him in error. There could be only one explanation, however
improbable it appeared. The two letters had come from the same
person.
“I went at once to the Duke, and in strict confidence told him of
what had happened. He told me the whole dreadful story.
“This man Webb—Julian Webb—had been draining him like a cask.
“Of course, I could have called in the police, but such terrible
issues were at stake, and the scandal would have been so profound,
that I chose the other course.
“I knew the risk and counted the cost. I sent for Collins, and faced
him with the letter, and the situation. He tried to bluff, and of
course denied the whole thing. I told him quite plainly that if I
put the matter into the hands of the police, as it was my duty to
do, it would mean disgrace and a long term of penal servitude for
him; but that I was willing to save a scandal, to let him leave the
country after he had handed over the incriminating documents. I
informed him that when he had gone I should place the whole thing in
the hands of Scotland Yard. He asked me for a week to consider the
matter, and make his arrangements.
“He is coming to see me to-morrow in Town, and has agreed to bring
the documents with him.
“I feel that, to such a man, the disgrace and flight will not
appeal, and my life is now in grave danger. I have promised, perhaps
somewhat rashly, not to reveal anything till I have seen him, so I
can take no steps, but I am writing this and hiding it where you
only will know, and if you come back, you will know what has
happened to your father.
“If all is well, I shall myself destroy this when this danger is
past.
“I can write no more. If you should ever read this you will know how
to act.
“Good-bye my boy, and think kindly of your father, who treated you
harshly, but has always loved you.
“Look after Mabel. If I am dead it is my wish that she marry Eric,
who is a good boy. I have been very selfish in this matter.
JAMES WATSON.”
Well, here it was at last.
Every one of the listeners remained lost in his own thoughts.
Ronald buried his face in his hands.
Allery broke the silence. Leaning across to Sinclair, he took his
hand, and said, “I apologise. You were right and we were wrong, but
who would have suspected it?”
“Please don’t apologise, Mr. Allery,” said Sinclair. “It was a
terrible shock to me, and as I told you, it was only last evening that
I could make up my mind.
“I think everything is clear now. Collins had no intention of going
abroad. He got round Sir James to give him that week to mature his
plans for as cunning and clever a murder as was ever planned.
“The visit in the afternoon, with all its precautions, was absolutely
necessary, so that he could drug him, though how he managed to get him
to take a whiskey and soda I cannot think. Probably he promised to
agree with everything, otherwise Sir James would have immediately sent
to Scotland Yard. Sir James’ promise then held good, and Collins would
say he would bring all the necessary documents. After he had gone,
some misgiving must have come to Sir James. Perhaps he was feeling
drowsy, and suspicion of evil was growing in his mind.
“Anyway he wrote that letter, which did not break his promise, as you
see.”
“There is a possibility, which is like the man’s daring,” said Allery.
“Collins may have gambled on Sir James taking a whiskey after he had
gone. There are tasteless sleeping drugs which could have been put in
the glass. You remember the room was in partial darkness.”
“I will go and break it to Mabel. She must know the truth. It is
better that I should tell her,” and he glanced at Sanders.
Without another word he went out.
“What are you going to do about the whole thing?” said Ronald, turning
to Sinclair.
“I shall have to lay the matter before Boyce, and of course Jackson
must be exonerated, but I hope that nothing will be done. It would
rake up the whole scandal which Sir James gave his life to hide, and
the man is beyond the reach of the Law. I see no point in a
sensational disclosure.”
“I am glad,” said Watson. “I would rather have it so.”
Mabel came into the room with Allery. She held her head proudly, and
was dry-eyed, though very white. She walked straight to Sanders.
“Eric,” she said. “I have had a terrible lesson, and I do not suppose
I shall ever forget it. I have misjudged you, and you were right in
your opinion. If you wish our engagement to be announced, I am
willing. And please forgive me for my temporary madness. I give you my
word it was nothing more. I can never forgive myself.”
Allery exchanged glances with the others, who quietly rose, and
slipped from the room.
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
This transcription follows the text of the edition published by
Grosset & Dunlap in August, 1926 (by arrangement with E. P. Dutton &
Company). However, the following alterations have been made to correct
what are believed to be unambiguous errors in the text:
* Five misplaced quotation marks have been restored.
* The name “Simmonds” has been corrected to “Simmons” (Chapter I).
* The word “alseep” has been corrected to “asleep” (Chapter XVI).