'It means, as a matter of course; that goes without saying. Whatever
you care to tell me about your son will be mentioned to no one. Pray
proceed, without further circumlocution, for my time is valuable.'
'My son was always a little wild and impatient of control. Although
everything he could wish was at his disposal here at home, he chose to
visit America, where he fell into bad company. I assure you there is
no real harm in the boy, but he became implicated with others, and has
suffered severely for his recklessness. For five years he has been an
inmate of a prison in the West. He was known and convicted under the
name of Wyoming Ed.'
'What was his crime?'
'His alleged crime was the stopping, and robbing, of a railway train.'
'For how long was he sentenced?'
'He was sentenced for life.'
'What do you wish me to do?'
'Every appeal has been made to the governor of the State in an
endeavour to obtain a pardon. These appeals have failed. I am informed
that if money enough is expended it may be possible to arrange my
son's escape.'
'In other words, you wish me to bribe the officials of the jail?'
'I assure you the lad is innocent.'
For the first time a quiver of human emotion came into the old man's
voice.
'Then, if you can prove that, why not apply for a new trial?'
'Unfortunately, the circumstances of the case, of his arrest on the
train itself, the number of witnesses against him, give me no hope
that a new trial would end in a different verdict, even if a new trial
could be obtained, which I am informed is not possible. Every legal
means tending to his liberation has already been tried.'
'I see. And now you are determined to adopt illegal means? I refuse to
have anything to do with the malpractice you propose. You objected to
a phrase in French, Mr. Sanderson, perhaps one in Latin will please you
better. It is "_Veritas praevalebit_," which means, "Truth will
prevail." I shall set your mind entirely at rest regarding your son.
Your son at this moment occupies a humble, if honourable, position in
the great house from which you came, and he hopes in time worthily to
fill his father's shoes, as you have filled the shoes of your father.
You are not a rich man, but a servant. Your son never was in America,
and never will go there. It is your master's son, the heir to great
English estates, who became the Wyoming Ed of the Western prison. Even
from what you say, I do not in the least doubt he was justly
convicted, and you may go back to your master and tell him so. You
came here to conceal the shameful secret of a wealthy and noble house;
you may return knowing that secret has been revealed, and that the
circumstances in which you so solemnly bound me to secrecy never
existed. Sir, that is the penalty of lying.'
The old man's contempt for me had been something to be felt, so
palpable was it. The armour of icy reserve had been so complete that
actually I had expected to see him rise with undiminished hauteur, and
leave the room, disdaining further parley with one who had insulted
him. Doubtless that is the way in which his master would have acted,
but even in the underling I was unprepared for the instantaneous
crumbling of this monument of pomp and pride. A few moments after I
began to speak in terms as severe as his own, his trembling hands
grasped the arms of the chair in which he sat, and his ever-widening
eyes, which came to regard me with something like superstitious dread
as I went on, showed me I had launched my random arrow straight at the
bull's-eye of fact. His face grew mottled and green rather than pale.
When at last I accused him of lying, he arose slowly, shaking like a
man with a palsy, but, unable to support himself erect, sank
helplessly back into his chair again. His head fell forward to the
table before him, and he sobbed aloud.
'God help me!' he cried, 'it is not my own secret I am trying to
guard.'
I sprang to the door, and turned the key in the lock so that by no
chance might we be interrupted; then, going to the sideboard, I poured
him out a liqueur glass full of the finest Cognac ever imported from
south of the Loire, and tapping him on the shoulder, said brusquely:--
'Here, drink this. The case is no worse than it was half an hour ago.
I shall not betray the secret.'
He tossed off the brandy, and with some effort regained his
self-control.
'I have done my errand badly,' he wailed. 'I don't know what I have
said that has led you to so accurate a statement of the real
situation, but I have been a blundering fool. God forgive me, when so
much depended on my making no mistake.'
'Don't let that trouble you,' I replied; 'nothing you said gave me the
slightest clue.'
'You called me a liar,' he continued, 'and that is a hard word from
one man to another, but I would not lie for myself, and when I do it
for one I revere and respect, my only regret is that I have done it
without avail.'
'My dear sir,' I assured him, 'the fault is not with yourself at all.
You were simply attempting the impossible. Stripped and bare, your
proposal amounts to this. I am to betake myself to the United States,
and there commit a crime, or a series of crimes, in bribing sworn
officials to turn traitor to their duty and permit a convict to
escape.'
'You put it very harshly, sir. You must admit that, especially in new
countries, there is lawlessness within the law as well as outside of
it. The real criminals in the robbery of the railway train escaped; my
young master, poor fellow, was caught. His father, one of the proudest
men in England, has grown prematurely old under the burden of this
terrible dishonour. He is broken-hearted, and a dying man, yet he
presents an impassive front to the world, with all the ancient courage
of his race. My young master is an only son, and failing his
appearance, should his father die, title and estate will pass to
strangers. Our helplessness in this situation adds to its horror. We
dare not make any public move. My old master is one with such
influence among the governing class of this country, of which he has
long been a member, that the average Englishman, if his name were
mentioned, would think his power limitless. Yet that power he dare not
exert to save his own son from a felon's life and death. However much
he or another may suffer, publicity must be avoided, and this is a
secret which cannot safely be shared with more than those who know it
now.'
'How many know it?'
'In this country, three persons. In an American prison, one.'
'Have you kept up communication with the young man?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Direct?'
'No; through a third person. My young master has implored his father
not to write to him direct.'
'This go-between, as we may call him, is the third person in the
secret? Who is he?'
'That I dare not tell you!'
'Mr. Sanderson, it would be much better for your master and his son
that you should be more open with me. These half-confidences are
misleading. Has the son made any suggestion regarding his release?'
'Oh yes, but not the suggestion I have put before you. His latest
letter was to the effect that within six months or so there is to be
an election for governor. He proposes that a large sum of money shall
be used to influence this election so that a man pledged to pardon him
may sit in the governor's chair.'
'I see. And this sum of money is to be paid to the third person you
referred to?'
'Yes.'
'May I take it that this third person is the one to whom various sums
have been paid during the last five years in order to bribe the
governor to pardon the young man?'
Sanderson hesitated a moment before answering; in fact, he appeared so
torn between inclination and duty; anxious to give me whatever
information I deemed necessary, yet hemmed in by the instructions
with which his master had limited him, that at last I waved my hand
and said:--
'You need not reply, Mr. Sanderson. That third party is the crux of the
situation. I strongly suspect him of blackmail. If you would but name
him, and allow me to lure him to these rooms, I possess a little
private prison of my own into which I could thrust him, and I venture
to say that before he had passed a week in darkness, on bread and
water, we should have the truth about this business.'
Look you now the illogical nature of an Englishman! Poor old
Sanderson, who had come to me with a proposal to break the law of
America, seemed horror-stricken when I airily suggested the immuring
of a man in a dungeon here in England. He gazed at me in amazement,
then cast his eyes furtively about him, as if afraid a trap door would
drop beneath him, and land him in my private _oubliette_.
'Do not be alarmed, Mr. Sanderson, you are perfectly safe. You are
beginning at the wrong end of this business, and it seems to me five
years of contributions to this third party without any result might
have opened the eyes of even the most influential nobleman in England,
not to mention those of his faithful servant.'
'Indeed, sir,' said Sanderson, 'I must confess to you that I have long
had a suspicion of this third person, but my master has clung to him
as his only hope, and if this third person were interfered with, I may
tell you that he has deposited in London at some place unknown to us,
a full history of the case, and if it should happen that he disappears
for more than a week at a time, this record will be brought to light.'
'My dear Mr. Sanderson, that device is as old as Noah and his ark. I
should chance that. Let me lay this fellow by the heels, and I will
guarantee that no publicity follows.'
Sanderson sadly shook his head.
'Everything might happen as you say, sir, but all that would put us no
further forward. The only point is the liberation of my young master.
It is possible that the person unmentioned, whom we may call Number
Three, has been cheating us throughout, but that is a matter of no
consequence.'
'Pardon me, but I think it is. Suppose your young master here, and at
liberty. This Number Three would continue to maintain the power over
him which he seems to have held over his father for the last five
years.'
'I think we can prevent that, sir, if my plan is carried out.'
'The scheme for bribing the American officials is yours, then?'
'Yes, sir, and I may say I am taking a great deal upon myself in
coming to you. I am, in fact, disobeying the implied commands of my
master, but I have seen him pay money, and very large sums of money,
to this Number Three for the last five years and nothing has come of
it. My master is an unsuspicious man, who has seen little of the real
world, and thinks everyone as honest as himself.'
'Well, that may be, Mr. Sanderson, but permit me to suggest that the
one who proposes a scheme of bribery, and, to put it mildly, an
evasion of the law, shows some knowledge of the lower levels of this
world, and is not quite in a position to plume himself on his own
honesty.'
'I am coming to that, Mr. Valmont. My master knows nothing whatever of
my plan. He has given me the huge sum of money demanded by Number
Three, and he supposes that amount has been already paid over. As a
matter of fact, it has not been paid over, and will not be until my
suggestion has been carried out, and failed. In fact, I am about to
use this money, all of it if necessary, if you will undertake the
commission. I have paid Number Three his usual monthly allowance, and
will continue to do so. I have told him my master has his proposal
under consideration; that there are still six months to come and go
upon, and that my master is not one who decides in a hurry.'
'Number Three says there is an election in six months for governor.
What is the name of the state?'
Sanderson informed me. I walked to my book-case, and took down a
current American Year Book, consulted it, and returned to the table.
'There is no election in that State, Mr. Sanderson, for eighteen
months. Number Three is simply a blackmailer, as I have suspected.'
'Quite so, sir,' replied Sanderson, taking a newspaper from his
pocket. 'I read in this paper an account of a man immured in a Spanish
dungeon. His friends arranged it with the officials in this way: The
prisoner was certified to have died, and his body was turned over to
his relatives. Now, if that could be done in America, it would serve
two purposes. It would be the easiest way to get my young master out
of the jail. It would remain a matter of record that he had died,
therefore there could be no search for him, as would be the case if he
simply escaped. If you were so good as to undertake this task you
might perhaps see my young master in his cell, and ask him to write to
this Number Three with whom he is in constant communication, telling
him he was very ill. Then you could arrange with the prison doctor
that this person was informed of my young master's death.'
'Very well, we can try that, but a blackmailer is not so easily thrown
off the scent. Once he has tasted blood he is a human man-eating
tiger. But still, there is always my private dungeon in the
background, and if your plan for silencing him fails, I guarantee that
my more drastic and equally illegal method will be a success.'
* * * * *
It will be seen that my scruples concerning the acceptance of this
commission, and my first dislike for the old man had both faded away
during the conversation which I have set down in the preceding
chapter. I saw him under the stress of deep emotion, and latterly
began to realise the tremendous chances he was taking in contravening
the will of his imperious master. If the large sum of money was long
withheld from the blackmailer, Douglas Sanderson ran the risk of
Number Three opening up communication direct with his master.
Investigation would show that the old servant had come perilously near
laying himself open to a charge of breach of trust, and even of
defalcation with regard to the money, and all this danger he was
heroically incurring for the unselfish purpose of serving the
interests of his employer. During our long interview old Sanderson
gradually became a hero in my eyes, and entirely in opposition to the
resolution I had made at the beginning, I accepted his commission at
the end of it.
Nevertheless, my American experiences are those of which I am least
proud, and all I care to say upon the subject is that my expedition
proved completely successful. The late convict was my companion on the
_Arontic_, the first steamship sailing for England after we reached
New York from the west. Of course I knew that two or three years
roughing it in mining camps and on ranches, followed by five years in
prison, must have produced a radical effect not only on the character,
but also in the personal appearance of a man who had undergone these
privations. Nevertheless, making due allowance for all this, I could
not but fear that the ancient English family, of which this young man
was the hope and pride, would be exceedingly disappointed with him. In
spite of the change which grooming and the wearing of a civilised
costume made, Wyoming Ed still looked much more the criminal than the
gentleman. I considered myself in honour bound not to make any
inquiries of the young man regarding his parentage. Of course, if I
had wished to possess myself of the secret, I had but to touch a
button under the table when Sanderson left my rooms in the Imperial
Flats, which would have caused him to be shadowed and run to earth. I
may also add that the ex-prisoner volunteered no particulars about
himself or his family. Only once on board ship did he attempt to
obtain some information from me as we walked up and down the deck
together.
'You are acting for someone else, I suppose?' he said.
'Yes.'
'For someone in England?'
'Yes.'
'He put up the money, did he?'
'Yes.'
There was a pause, during which we took two or three turns in silence.
'Of course, there's no secret about it,' he said at last. 'I expected
help from the other side, but Colonel Jim has been so mighty long
about it, I was afraid he'd forgotten me.'
'Who is Colonel Jim?'
'Colonel Jim Baxter. Wasn't it him gave you the money?'
'I never heard of the man before.'
'Then who put up the coin?'
'Douglas Sanderson,' I replied, looking at him sidewise as I mentioned
the name. It had apparently no effect upon him. He wrinkled his brow
for a moment, then said:--
'Well, if you never heard of Baxter, I never heard of Sanderson.'
This led me to suspect that Douglas Sanderson did not give me his own
name, and doubtless the address with which he had furnished me was
merely temporary. I did not cable to him from America regarding the
success of the expedition, because I could not be certain it was a
success until I was safely on English ground, and not even then, to
tell the truth. Anyhow, I wished to leave no trail behind me, but the
moment the _Arontic_ reached Liverpool, I telegraphed Sanderson to
meet us that evening at my flat.
He was waiting for me when Wyoming Ed and I entered together. The old
man was quite evidently in a state of nervous tension. He had been
walking up and down the room with hands clenched behind his back, and
now stood at the end farthest from the door as he heard us approach,
with his hands still clasped behind his back, and an expression of
deep anxiety upon his rugged face. All the electric lamps were turned
on, and the room was bright as day.
'Have you not brought him with you?' he cried.
'Brought him with me?' I echoed. 'Here is Wyoming Ed!'
The old man glared at him for a moment or two stupefied, then
moaned:--
'Oh, my God, my God, that is not the man!'