When Mr. Screw called at Claudius's hotel the next day, the Doctor had
gone out. Mr. Screw said he would wait, and sat down with a book to pass
the time, for he was fond of reading in his leisure moments, few as they
were. Claudius had left the house early in the morning, and had gone to
find the spot where his uncle had been buried--no easy matter, in the
vast cemetery where the dead men lie in hundreds of thousands, in
stately avenues and imposing squares, in houses grand and humble, high
and low, but all closed and silent with the grandeur of a great waiting.
Claudius was not sentimental in this pilgrimage; it was with him a
matter of course, a duty which he performed naturally for the
satisfaction of his conscience. He could not have told any other reason,
though, if he had been called upon to analyse the feeling which impels
most men to do the same thing, under the same circumstances, he would
have replied that a scientific explanation of the fact could only be
found in the ancient practices of "ancestor worship," of which some
trace remains unto this day. But he would have added that it was a
proper mark of reverence and respect for the dead, and that man
naturally inclines to fulfil such obligations, unless deterred by
indolence or the fear of ridicule. At any rate, he went alone; and it
was late in the afternoon before he came back.
When at last he returned, he was not surprised to find Mr. Screw
awaiting him. He had not found that gentleman on his first visit to Pine
Street; and it seemed very natural that his uncle's executor should call
upon him. He was cordial and courteous to his visitor, who took the
Doctor's measure, and looked into his honest eyes, and realised that
this claimant to Lindstrand's money was undoubtedly a very fine fellow
indeed. Mr. Screw felt that it would be hard to tell such a man to his
face that he was not altogether satisfied of his identity. But then, as
the lawyer reflected, swindlers are generally fine fellows; indeed,
their imposing appearance is often their whole capital and
stock-in-trade. Mr. Screw had a profound knowledge of mankind, and he
immediately determined upon his course of action, which should be
cautious, but at the same time honest and straightforward. After a
preliminary exchange of civilities, he opened fire.
"I have come on very delicate business, Dr. Claudius," said he; and he
hooked one leg behind the other as he sat and ran his hands through his
hair. Claudius settled himself in his chair and waited, not having any
idea what the business might be.
"You will readily understand," continued Mr. Screw, "that in my position
I feel obliged to take every conceivable precaution in administering the
estate of the late Mr. Lindstrand. You will, therefore, not be offended
at what I am going to say. My personality has nothing to do with it, nor
can any personal impression you produce upon me, no matter how
favourable, be considered in the light of evidence. I have never seen
you before, and I am bound to say that the little I know of you,
although perfectly satisfactory as far as it goes, is not sufficient to
prove in a court that you are really the person indicated in Mr.
Lindstrand's will." Here Mr. Screw paused to see how Claudius would take
the hint that more evidence was required.
But Claudius, the embodiment of calm strength, intellectual and
physical, was not to be moved by such trifles. He showed not the
slightest emotion, nor did he betray any especial interest in what the
lawyer was saying. His attitude was that of attention to a matter which
it was his duty to understand and to elucidate. But that was all. He
wished Mr. Screw would talk a little faster, and say what he required
and go; but he was too courteous to hurry him.
"My dear sir," he answered, "I fully understand your position, and any
apology from you would be out of place. Pray proceed."
"I have nothing more to say," said Mr. Screw, astonished at so much
indifference where a great fortune was concerned. "I like to be brief in
such matters. I have nothing more to say, sir, excepting that I would be
greatly obliged if you would put into my hands such documents as you may
think proper for the full establishing of your rights."
"Very well," said Claudius. "If you will tell me what evidence you
require I will procure it immediately." With that he rose, and lighted
a cigarette.
"A properly-attested certificate of your birth would be all-sufficient,"
said Mr. Screw, who began to feel relieved by the conduct of the Doctor.
The latter, however, suddenly stood still with the match in his fingers,
and looked at the lawyer with a curious scrutiny.
"I would prefer," he said, "to give some other evidence of my identity
than that, if it is the same to you."
"If you prefer it, of course," said the lawyer coldly. His suspicions
were immediately roused, for he had named the simplest description of
document he could think of, and it seemed odd that the Doctor should be
so evidently disinclined to produce it.
"I suppose," said the Doctor, "that the formal attestation of my
identity by the authorities of the University of Heidelberg would be
sufficient?"
"Yes, I should think so," said Screw cautiously. "But will it not take
some time to procure that?"
"Well? If it does, what then?"
"Only that--you will understand that until this matter is settled I
should not feel justified in authorising you to draw upon the estate."
Claudius's sense of logic was offended.
"My dear sir," he replied, "have I drawn upon the estate for a single
dollar yet?"
"No, sir, I am bound to say you have not, although you might have
considered it natural to do so, and we should have put no obstacle--"
Mr. Screw stopped short. He had betrayed himself, and felt extremely
embarrassed. But he said enough to give Claudius an idea of the
situation. Something had occurred, some one had spoken, to cast a doubt
on his identity; and Mr. Screw was the chosen emissary of that "some
one."
"Then, Mr. Screw," said the Doctor in measured tones, "I would admonish
you to be more careful how you insinuate that I might do anything of the
kind. You have inconvenienced me quite enough already. You had better
not inconvenience me any more. I consider your conduct a piece of
unparalleled clumsiness, and your language little short of impertinent.
What you have said now you should have said in the letter which
announced my uncle's death. Or you should have instructed Mr. Barker,
who was abroad at the time and found me in Heidelberg, to make the
necessary investigations. The evidence shall be forthcoming in proper
season, and until then I do not desire the advantage of your company."
Mr. Screw was so much astonished with this mode of address from a man
whom he had foolishly imagined to be good-natured that he stood a moment
by the table hesitating what he should say. Claudius took up a book and
began to read.
"Well," said he, perceiving that Mr. Screw was still in the room, "why
don't you go?"
"Really, Dr. Claudius, I am not accustomed--" he began.
"Go," said Claudius, interrupting him; "it is not of the smallest
interest to me to know what you are accustomed to. There is the door."
"Sir--"
"Do you prefer the window?" asked the Doctor, rising in great wrath and
striding towards the unhappy lawyer. Mr. Screw instantly made up his
mind that the door was preferable, and disappeared. When he was gone
Claudius sat down again. He was very angry; but, in his own view, his
anger was just. It was very clear to him, from the words Mr. Screw had
inadvertently let fall, that some one had, for reasons unknown,
undertaken to cause him a great deal of unpleasantness. What he had said
to Screw was not to be denied. If there was any question as to his
identity, full proof should have been required from the first. But his
autograph letter from Heidelberg, attested by a notary, had been
accepted as sufficient; and "Screw and Scratch" had answered the
letter, and Claudius had received their answer in Baden. It had never
entered his head that anything more would be required. So long as Screw
had confined himself to stating his position, merely asking for further
evidence, the Doctor had nothing to say. But at the suggestion that
Claudius might want to draw money from the estate before his claims were
fully established, he lost his temper. It was an imputation on his
honour; and, however slight it might seem to Mr. Screw, Claudius was not
the man to bear it.
Ten minutes later Mr. Barker walked in unannounced. It was natural
enough that he should call, but Claudius did not want him. The Doctor
had not had time to think over the situation, but he had, a vague
impression that Barker had something to do with this sudden cloud of
annoyance that had risen to darken his path. Barker, on his side, was
prepared for storms, but he intended to play the part of confidential
friend and consoler. Claudius, however, wanted neither friends nor
consolation, and he was in the worst of tempers. Nevertheless, he rose
and offered his guest a chair, and asked him how he did. Barker took the
chair and said he was fairly well, on the way to recovery from the
voyage.
"What have you been doing all day, Claudius?" he asked.
"I have been to a place called Greenwood, to see where they had buried
my uncle," answered Claudius, and relapsed into silence.
"No wonder you look so gloomy. Whatever induced you to do such a thing?"
"I was not induced," said Claudius. "He was my last relation in the
world, and I did the only thing I could to honour his memory, which was
to go and see his grave."
"Yes, very proper, I am sure," replied Barker. "If my relations would
begin and die, right away, I would trot around and see their graves fast
enough!"
Claudius was silent.
"What on earth is the matter with you, Claudius? Have you got a
headache, or are you going to be married?"
Claudius roused himself, and offered Barker a cigar.
"There is nothing the matter," he said; "I suppose my excursion has made
me a little gloomy; but I shall soon get over that. There are matches on
the mantelpiece."
"Thanks. Why did you not come down town to-day? Oh! of course you were
away. It was very good fun. We had a regular bear garden."
"It looked like something of that sort yesterday when I was there."
"Yesterday? Oh! you had never been there before. Yes, it is always like
that. I say, come and take a drive in the park before dinner."
"No, thanks. I am very sorry, but I have an appointment in a few
minutes. I would like to go very much; you are very kind."
"Business?" asked the inquisitive Mr. Barker.
"Well--yes, if you like, business."
"Oh!" said Barker. "By the by, have you seen any of your lawyer people
to-day?" Barker had expected that Claudius would confide to him the
trouble Screw was raising. But as Claudius did not begin, Barker asked
the question.
"Yes," answered the Doctor, "Screw has been here. In fact he is just
gone."
"Anything wrong?" inquired the tormentor.
"No, nothing wrong that I know of," said Claudius. Then he suddenly
turned sharply on Barker, and looked straight at him. "Did you expect to
hear that there was anything wrong?" he asked quickly. Claudius had a
very unpleasant way of turning upon his antagonist just a minute before
the enemy was ready for him. Barker had found this out before, and,
being now directly interrogated, he winced perceptibly.
"Oh dear, no," he hastened to say. "But lawyers are great bores
sometimes, especially where wills are concerned. And I thought perhaps
Screw might be wearying you with his formalities."
"No," said Claudius indifferently, "nothing to--" he was interrupted by
a knock at the door. It was the Duke's servant, a quiet man in gray
clothes and gray whiskers. He had a bald head and bright eyes.
"His Grace's compliments, sir, and can you see him now, sir?"
"Yes, I will come in a moment," said Claudius.
"I think, sir," said the man, "that his Grace is coming to your rooms."
"Very good. My compliments, and I shall be glad to see him." The gray
servant vanished.
Barker rose to go; but Claudius was begging him not to hurry, when there
was another knock, and the Duke entered. He shook hands with Claudius,
and spoke rather coldly to Barker. The latter was uneasy, and felt that
he was in the way. He was. Barker had fallen into a singular error of
judgment in regard to the relations existing between the Duke and
Claudius. He had imagined it in his power to influence the Duke's
opinion, whereas in trying to effect that object he had roused the
Englishman's animosity. Besides, Mr. Barker was to the Duke a caprice.
He found the quick-thinking man of business amusing and even useful, but
for steady companionship he did not want him. A passage across the
Atlantic was more than enough to satisfy his desire for Mr. Barker's
society, even if Barker had not managed to excite his indignation. But
Claudius was different. The honest nobleman could not tell why it was,
but it was true, nevertheless. He looked upon the Doctor more as an
equal than Barker. The Duke was a very great man in his own country, and
it was singular indeed that he should find a man to his liking, a man
who seemed of his own caste and calibre, in the simple _privat-docent_
of a German university. Perhaps Barker felt it too. At all events, when
the Duke sat himself down in Claudius's room, after begging permission
to ring for lights, and made himself most evidently at home, Mr. Barker
felt that he was in the way; and so, promising to call on Claudius again
in the morning, he departed. Claudius stood by the mantelpiece while the
servant lit the gas.
"I am very glad to see you," he said, when the man had gone.
"I am glad of that, for I want your society. The Countess Margaret has a
headache, and Lady Victoria has gone to dine in her rooms, and to spend
the evening with her."
"I am very sorry to hear that the Countess is not well," said Claudius,
"but I am very glad of anything that brings you here to-night. I am in
trouble--that is, I have been very much annoyed."
"Ah, very sorry," said the Duke.
"It so happens that you are the only person in America, as far as I
know, who can help me."
"I?" The Duke opened his eyes wide. Then he reflected that it might be
something concerning the Countess, and waited.
"You are a gentleman," said Claudius reflectively, and hardly addressing
his visitor as he said it.
"Quite so," said the Duke. "It's a very fine word that."
"And a man of honour," continued Claudius in a meditative tone.
"The deuce and all, it's the same thing," said the Duke, rather puzzled.
"Yes; in some countries it is. Now, what I want to ask you is this.
Could you, as a gentleman and a man of honour, swear in a court of law
that you know me, and that I am the person I represent myself to be?
That is the question."
The Duke was too much surprised to answer directly. He made a great fuss
over his cigar, and got up and shut the window. Then he sat down in
another chair.
"I don't know what you mean," he said at last, to gain time.
"I mean what I say," said Claudius. "Could you swear, before the Supreme
Court of the United States, for instance, that I am Claudius, sometime
student, now Doctor of Philosophy of the University of Heidelberg in
Germany? Could you swear that?"
"My dear boy," said the other, "what in the world are you driving at?"
The Duke realised that he could not conscientiously swear to any such
statement as that proposed by Claudius; and, liking him as he did, he
was much distressed at being put into such a corner.
"I will tell you afterwards what it is about, Duke," said Claudius. "I
am serious, and I would like you to answer the question, though I
foresee that you will say you could not swear to anything of the kind."
"Honestly, Claudius, though there is not the slightest doubt in my mind
that you are what you appear to be, I could not conscientiously swear it
in evidence. I do not know anything about you. But Barker could."
"No, he could not. He knows no more about me than you do, saving that he
met me two or three days sooner. He met me in Heidelberg, it is true,
but he made no inquiries whatever concerning me. It never entered his
head that I could be anything but what I professed to be."
"I should think not, indeed," said the Duke warmly.
"But now that I am here in the flesh, these lawyers are making trouble.
One of them was here a little while since, and he wanted documentary
evidence of my identity."
"Who was the lawyer?"
"A Mr. Screw, one of the executors of the will."
"Who is the other executor?" asked the Duke quickly.
"Barker's father."
The Englishman's face darkened, and he puffed savagely at his cigar. He
had been angry with Barker the day before. Now he began to suspect him
of making trouble.
"What sort of evidence did the man want?" he asked at length.
"Any sort of documentary evidence would do. He asked me for my
certificate of birth, and I told him he could not have it. And then he
went so far as to remark in a very disagreeable way that he could not
authorise me to draw upon the estate until I produced evidence."
"Well, that is natural enough."
"It would have been so at first. But they had accepted the mere
signature to my letter from Heidelberg as proof of my existence, and I
got word in Baden in July that I might draw as much as I pleased. And
now they turn upon me and say I am not myself. Something has happened.
Fortunately I have not touched the money, in spite of their kind
permission."
"There is something very odd about this, Claudius. Have you got such a
thing as a birth certificate to show?"
"Yes," answered Claudius, after a pause. "I have everything in perfect
order, my mother's marriage and all."
"Then why, in Heaven's name, can you not show it, and put all these
rascally lawyers to flight?"
"Because--" Claudius began, but he hesitated and stopped. "It is a
curious story," he said, "and it is precisely what I want to talk to you
about."
"Is it very long?" asked the Duke; "I have not dined yet."
"No, it will not take long, and if you have nothing better to do we will
dine together afterwards. But first there are two things I want to say.
If I prove to you that I am the son of my uncle's sister, will you tell
Mr. Screw that you know it for a fact, that is, that if it had to be
sworn to, you would be willing to swear to it?"
"If you prove it to me so that I am legally sure of it, of course I
will."
"The other thing I will ask you is, not to divulge what I shall tell
you, or show you. You may imagine from my being unwilling to show these
papers, even to a lawyer, when my own fortune is concerned, that I
attach some importance to secrecy."
"You may trust me," said the Duke; "you have my word," he added, as if
reluctantly. People whose word is to be trusted are generally slow to
give it. Claudius bowed his head courteously, in acknowledgment of the
plighted promise. Then he opened a trunk that stood in a corner of the
room, and took from it the iron box in which he had deposited the
lawyer's letter on that evening three months before, when his destiny
had roused itself from its thirty years' slumber. He set the box on the
table, and having locked the door of the room sat down opposite his
guest. He took a key from his pocket.
"You will think it strange," he said with a smile, "that I should have
taken the liberty of confiding to you my secret. But when you have seen
what is there, you will perceive that you are the most fitting confidant
in this country--for general reasons, of course; for I need not say
there is nothing in those papers which concerns you personally."
Claudius unlocked the box and took out a few letters that were lying on
the top, then he pushed the casket across the table to the Duke.
"Will you please examine the contents for yourself?" he said. "There are
only three or four papers to read--the rest are letters from my father
to my mother--you may look at them if you like; they are very old."
All this time the Duke looked very grave. He was not accustomed to have
his word of honour asked for small matters, and if this were some
trivial question of an assumed name, or the like, he was prepared to be
angry with Claudius. So he silently took the little strong box, and
examined the contents. There were two packages of papers, two or three
morocco cases that might contain jewels, and there was a string of
pearls lying loose in the bottom of the casket. The Duke took the pearls
curiously in his hand and held them to the light. He had seen enough of
such things to know something of their value, and he knew this string
might be worth anywhere from eight to ten thousand pounds. He looked
graver than ever.
"Those are beautiful pearls, Dr. Claudius," he said; "too beautiful for
a Heidelberg student to have lying about among his traps." He turned
them over and added, "The Duchess has nothing like them."
"They belonged to my mother," said Claudius simply. "I know nothing of
their value."
The Duke took the papers and untied the smaller package, which appeared
to contain legal documents, while the larger seemed to be a series of
letters filed in their envelopes, as they had been received.
"My mother's name was Maria Lindstrand," said Claudius. He leaned back,
smoking the eternal cigarette, and watched the Duke's face.
Before the Englishman had proceeded far he looked up at Claudius,
uttering an exclamation of blank amazement. Claudius merely bent his
head as if to indorse the contents of the paper, and was silent. The
Duke read the papers carefully through, and examined one of them very
minutely by the light. Then he laid them down with a certain reverence,
as things he respected.
"My dear Claudius--" he rose and extended his hand to the young man with
a gesture that had in it much of dignity and something of pride. "My
dear Claudius, I shall all my life remember that you honoured me with
your confidence. I accepted it as a token of friendship, but I am now
able to look upon it as a very great distinction."
"And I, Duke, shall never forget that you believed in me on my own
merits, before you were really able to swear that I was myself."
Claudius had also risen, and their hands remained clasped a moment. Then
Claudius applied himself to rearranging the contents of his box; and the
Duke walked up and down the room, glancing from time to time at the
Doctor. He stopped suddenly in his walk.
"But--goodness gracious! why have you kept this a secret?" he asked, as
if suddenly recollecting himself.
"My mother," said Claudius, "was too proud to come forward and claim
what my father, but for his untimely death, would have given her in a
few months. As for me, I have been contented in my life, and would have
been unwilling to cause pain to any one by claiming my rights. My mother
died when I was a mere child, and left these papers sealed, directing me
not to open them until I should be twenty-one years old. And so when I
opened them, I made up my mind to do nothing about it."
"It is not easy to understand you, Claudius; but I will swear to
anything you like."
"Thank you; I am very grateful."
"Do not speak of that. I am proud to be of service. By the by, the
present--the present incumbent is childless, I believe. He must be your
father's brother?"
"Yes," said Claudius. "Should he die, I would not hesitate any longer."
"No indeed, I hope not. It is a shame as it is."
"By the by," said Claudius, who had put away his box; "why did you not
go to Newport to-day? I meant to go on to-morrow and meet you there.
This business had put it out of my head."
"Lady Victoria and the Countess both wanted to stay another day."
"Is the Countess ill?" asked Claudius. "Or do you think she would see me
this evening?"
"I do not think there is anything especial the matter. She will very
likely see you after dinner. As for me, I am hungry; I have walked all
over New York this afternoon."
"Very well, let us dine. You know New York, and must select the place."
Arm-in-arm they went away together, and the Duke introduced Claudius to
the glories of Delmonico's.