“If it is as I suspect, I will not marry him. You must use your
utmost endeavours to find out the real state of the case, for it
would drive me mad to discover that after all my care, I had become
the dupe of a mercenary hypocrite.”
Such was the concluding portion of a communication made to me by
Miss Iris Rankin, only child and sole heiress of the late John
Graham Rankin, shipowner and millionaire.
The visit she paid me had its origin in a conversation which had
taken place in her own drawing-room on the previous afternoon. A
friend had paid her a call, and had regaled her with some gossip
which had upset her considerably. This friend, Miss Cloudy, to wit,
related how she, in the capacity of district visitor in connection
with a very fashionable church, had met with a surprising experience.
“I was never so astonished in my life,” said Miss Cloudy, “as when
I saw Mr Harold Gilbertson pass the open door of the room in which
I was sitting talking to old Mrs Tweedy, one of the vicar’s
parishioners. The old lady saw how surprised I was, and asked who
had passed the door. In order that no mistake might be made I merely
remarked that a young gentleman had gone upstairs, and that I
thought it was somebody I knew.
“‘That is likely enough,’ said the old lady. ‘For though the Hansons
are poor now, they haven’t always lived in a neighbourhood like
this, and some of their old friends come to see them yet.’
“‘Who are the Hansons?’ I asked. ‘Do you know anything about them?’
“‘Nothing,’ I was told ‘except that they became poor when their
father died. They are two very pretty young ladies, and I don’t mix
much with the people hereabouts, though they have always a pleasant
word for me. I’m not surprised that Mr Gilbertson is smitten, and
that he comes to see them nearly every evening. I rather fancy that
he is engaged to Miss Beatrice.’
“You see, Iris, it seems rather a cruel thing to tell you. But I
know how you dread fortune-hunters, and I know also that you would
be miserable with a man whose heart was given to another. It is much
better to stop the mischief before it has become irrevocable.”
Miss Rankin fully endorsed the opinion thus expressed, although it
was a bitter experience for her to be told that the man to whom she
had in all confidence given her heart was merely courting her
fortune, while his love was bestowed elsewhere.
Still, she never doubted the honesty of purpose of her friend, but
was wise enough to subject her to a series of searching questions
ere she was fully convinced that there was apparently a mistake.
Even then she determined to have additional testimony before she
decided upon condemning and humiliating the man to whom she was to
have been married in one short month.
He was very handsome and very clever. But his income had hitherto
not kept pace with his apparent popularity as a journalist, and his
profession afforded him an easy excuse for spending his evenings
away from his fiancée.
“I imagined him always to be hard at work every evening,” she said
sadly, when consulting me. “But if my friend has really made no
mistake, Mr Gilbertson has been spending his evenings in more
congenial fashion than in working at his profession, or in visiting
me. I cannot condescend to pursue further investigations myself. But
it will not be a very difficult matter for you. You will lose no
time over the business?”
“None whatever,” was my prompt assurance. And I kept my word, for
that very afternoon saw me, very soberly attired and wearing my most
philanthropic expression, wending my way towards the very quiet
bye-street in which Mrs Tweedy lived. I was armed with all sorts of
particulars, and was made aware of Mrs Tweedy’s particular foible.
She only needed to scent a possible donation to become the most
servile and plausible of individuals. She had always been poor, but
not of the poorest, for she contrived to divert a great many gifts
from indiscriminate philanthropists to herself that ought really to
have been bestowed elsewhere. As I carried a neat parcel of
groceries by way of make-weight to the bundle of tracts I was
supposed to be distributing, I felt pretty sure of my position, and
was soon chatting quite affably with the cunning old lady.
I was diplomatic enough to pave the way for the tract I had to offer
by the gift of a quarter of tea and a tin of salmon, after which I
might have learnt all there was to tell of the whole neighbourhood
if I had wanted. We were soon chatting quite sociably together, and
it was of course quite natural that, next to herself, the old lady
should find her neighbours her readiest medium of gossip. As the
sisters Hanson were the most interesting of these neighbours, it was
equally natural that the conversation should be easily brought round
to them.
I had carefully studied a photograph of Mr Gilbertson with which I
had been supplied by Miss Rankin, and I purposely say opposite the
open door as I chatted, in order that I might have a fair look at
the Mr Gilbertson who visited the sisters every evening.
My visit was well timed, and I had not long to wait. The Misses
Hansons’ Mr Gilbertson passed before my view, and I had not the
slightest hesitation in judging him to be also Miss Rankin’s Mr
Gilbertson. I was sorry for this, for he looked so frank and honest
that anybody might have trusted him; and it is sad to have one’s
ideals shattered, even if one be a detective, and, as such, already
somewhat inured to the depressing influence of treacherous natures.
But my task was by no means finished. I had only seen and heard
enough to corroborate the truth of Miss Cloudy’s statements, and
there was too much at stake to permit any chance of blundering to
survive. So when Mr Gilbertson went upstairs, I terminated my visit
to the old lady, and stationed myself where he could not emerge from
the house without being seen by me.
I had to wait above an hour, but it was not at all cold, and I was
rewarded by seeing the gentleman come forth with one of the sisters,
who certainly looked quite worthy of a man’s love. The couple walked
slowly towards Hammersmith-road, followed unobtrusively by myself,
who, in the gathering dusk, noticed that they appeared to be waiting
for some one, as they sauntered backwards and forwards for awhile in
the vicinity of St. Mary Abbott’s-terrace. Presently they were
joined by another girl, who came out of a neighbouring house,
carrying a music roll in her hand, and who was sufficiently like Mr
Gilbertson’s companion to make me conclude that she was her sister.
Then the three retraced their step homeward, and I had no difficulty
in deciding that the music teacher was the sister to whom Mr
Gilbertson was supposed to be engaged. I was surprised at the
openness with which he carried on his clandestine connection, for he
seemed not to care who noticed him, and it was certainly running an
apparent risk to show himself out of doors with Miss Rankin’s rival.
I will own to being very tired before I got to bed that night. But I
was thoroughly satisfied, for I had traversed a great deal of ground,
and learnt a great many important particulars of the case I was
investigating. Next morning at eleven o’clock I called to see Miss
Rankin at her sumptuous flat in Albert-gate Mansions, and induced
her to write the following note to her fiancée: -
“I cannot see you before half-past eight this evening. But as it is
absolutely necessary that I should see you then, I must ask you to
put your work on one side for once, and be here at the time indicated
without fail. “Iris.”
At eight-thirty that evening, having donned orthodox evening wear,
I was sitting with Miss Rankin, waiting for the development of my
little plot. The poor girl looked very pale, and I could see that
the great anxiety was almost killing her. But I knew that it could
not last much longer, and a little thrill of excitement ran through
me when Miss Hanson and Mr Gilbertson were announced.
As they entered the room both looking somewhat mystified, the
heiress sprang to her feet, and an angry flush suffused her face as
she murmured: “This is too much!”
But in a moment she recovered her presence of mind, and haughtily
addressed Mr Gilbertson: “I see you have brought your intended with
you. But don’t you think you might have been off with the old love
before you were on with the new?”
I am not sure who was the more astonished at this outburst, Miss
Rankin herself, or the man whom she addressed. He, too, looked
angry, and, bowing with studied politeness, replied, “There seems to
be some mistake here. We have evidently come to the wrong house, and
will wish you good evening.”
“Mr Gilbertson!” announced the butler, and, lo! the mystery was
explained. There were two Romeos in the field, and Miss Rankin saw
at a glance how the mistake had arisen.
The two men were actually twin brothers, and had been estranged for
some time through an unjust will which had left the presumably
younger son penniless, while the other had a large income. Wounded
to the quick, Harold declined his brother’s friendly offers, and
sought to make a name for himself in the world of letters.
I had discovered, on following the music-teacher’s admirer to his
residence, that his Christian name was Gilbert, not Harold, and had
arrived at a correct conclusion as to their relationship. My next
proceeding was to plan a meeting of all the parties, feeling sure
that it could have none but good results, and I requested the
attendance of Mr Gilbert Gilbertson and Miss Hanson at Albert-gate
Mansions, “to meet Mr Harold Gilbertson and his fiancée.”
As I expected, they did not fail to put in a punctual appearance,
with the result that there was happiness and reconciliation all
round.
Both weddings came off some time ago, and I hear that Miss Evelyn
Hanson has become engaged to a very nice American, who is a
millionaire – in dollars.