THE DEAD MAN'S LETTER
The final understanding had been that those who were to go to the
bank, in order that arrangements might be made which would give them
immediate access to the funds of the late Graham Patterson, were to
meet at the office in St. Paul's Churchyard. On the way to the City
Rodney paid two or three calls. When he entered the office the outer
rooms were empty; there was a notice on the outer door to the effect
that business was suspended on account of Mr. Patterson's funeral. Mr.
Andrews came out of what had been the late proprietor's own sanctum to
greet him.
"Mr. Wilkes is here, Mr. Elmore, and particularly wishes to see you."
Rodney said nothing, but his look suggested that he resented something
which he noticed in the other's manner, as well as the fact that he
had come out of that particular room. Passing on in silence to the
private office, he found Mr. Wilkes seated, not in his uncle's own
chair, as he had been on Monday, but in one close to it. He did not
rise as the young man entered, but contented himself with nodding
slightly. Rodney, scenting something antagonistic in the other's
presence there as well as in his attitude, did not even nod. He
marched straight to the chair behind the writing-table, which he chose
now to regard as his own, and which was within a yard of that on which
the other was seated, and, remaining standing himself, looked down on
the lawyer.
"To what am I indebted, Mr. Wilkes, for your presence to-day? Did you
not notice the intimation on the door, informing all and sundry that
these offices are closed? If it is a business matter on which you have
called, I must ask you to postpone it, at any rate until to-morrow."
Instead of showing any disposition to take himself off, as the other
so plainly suggested, the dark-visaged lawyer, leaning back in his
chair, looked up at the young man with something in his glance which
was not exactly complimentary.
"I have come, Mr. Elmore, a good deal against my own wish, in
consequence of a communication which I have received from Mr.
Patterson."
"From--what do you mean, from Mr. Patterson?"
"A letter came to my office yesterday evening, after I had left, which
was placed in my hands this morning. Before proceeding to take other
steps, I thought it might perhaps save unpleasantness, and be fairer
to you, if, in the first instance, I acquainted you with its
substance."
"From whom is the letter?"
"From your late uncle, Graham Patterson."
"You say it reached you last night? I don't understand."
"Nor I, as yet, quite; I can only form a hypothesis. It seems that the
letter was written at Brighton some time on Sunday. Clearly, from the
postmark, it was posted at Brighton on Sunday. It ought to have
reached me, of course, on Monday, but the presumption is that, owing
to some vagary of the Post Office, it went astray, so that it has been
more than two days on the road, instead of only a few hours. Under the
circumstances that seems rather a curious accident. Here is the
letter. I warn you that you will not find it a pleasant one."
"Is it absolutely necessary, then, that I should know its contents? My
relations with Mr. Patterson were not of a kind to lead me to expect
any pleasantness from him, either on paper or off it."
"The position is this. It is my duty to place this letter
before--someone else, when very serious consequences may ensue; but,
by taking a certain course, you may relieve me of the duty."
"In that case, let me know what is in the letter."
"I had better read it to you, so that you may understand that the
language is the writer's, not mine."
Mr. Wilkes withdrew a letter from an envelope which he took from his
pocket; the envelope he held out to Rodney.
"You see? The address is in your uncle's hand; it was post-marked at
Brighton on Sunday evening, so there can be no doubt about the date on
which it was dispatched."
The lawyer proceeded to read the letter out loud, with a dryness which
seemed to give it peculiar point.
"'DEAR STEPHEN' [my Christian name, I may remind you, is Stephen],--'I
want you to draw up a codicil to my will, and to have it ready for my
signature to-morrow--Monday afternoon.
"'It is to be to the effect that if my daughter marries my nephew,
Rodney Elmore, then all that portion of my will which refers to her is
to be null and void--she is not to have a penny. All that would have
been hers is to be divided equally among the following charities.'
[Then follows a list of them; there are eight. Then the letter goes
on]: 'I hope that's clear enough. Between ourselves, Master Elmore is
an all-round scoundrel; I swear to you that I'm convinced that no
rascality would be too steep for him. He is a liar of the very first
water, a thief, and a forger; so much I can prove. I would sooner have
my girl dead than his wife; the damned young blackguard is after her
for all he knows. But I am going to clear him out in charge of a
constable when I get back to the office; I doubt if he has got tight
enough hold of my girl to induce her to marry a convict--it will be a
clear case of penal servitude for him.
"'I know you will think I am writing strongly, but that is because I
feel strongly. When I tell you the whole story you will admit that I
am justified.
"'Mind you have that codicil ready, on the lines I have given; I will
call in on my way back from the office and sign. I know you do not
touch criminal business as a rule, but you will have to make an
exception in my case. I want you to instruct counsel in the matter of
Master Elmore, for reasons which I will make clear to you when we
meet. Sincerely yours,
"'GRAHAM PATTERSON.'"
When the lawyer had done reading he lowered the letter and glanced up
at the young man, who still stood towering above him. If he expected
to find on his face any signs of confusion, still less of guilt or
shame, his expectation was not realised. There was a look rather on
Rodney's countenance of scorn, of confidence in himself, of contempt
for whoever might speak ill of him, which became him very well. His
remarks, when they came, possibly scarcely breathed the spirit the
solicitor had looked for.
"Have you read that letter to Mr. Andrews?"
"I have not."
"Have you made him acquainted with its contents?"
"I have dropped no hint to him of its existence."
"I have no pretensions to knowledge of the law of libel, but it is
pretty clear that no action can be brought against the man who wrote
that letter. With you the case is different. It was written, I
presume, in confidence to you. If you bring it to the notice of
anybody else you make yourself responsible for the statements it
contains--you publish them. If you call my honour in question by
publishing such a farrago of lies about me I will first of all thrash
you, as they have it, to within an inch of your life, and then, if
needs be, I will spend my last penny in calling you to account in a
court of law. You shall not shelter yourself behind a dead man."
"You use strong language, Mr. Elmore."
"Could I use stronger language than that letter?"
"I understand that you deny the statements it contains?"
"Do I understand that you associate yourself with your correspondent
so far as to require a denial?"
"You misapprehend the situation; whether wilfully or not I don't know.
I have no personal concern in this matter at all; eliminate that idea
from your mind. Graham Patterson was my client living; in a sense he
is still my client dead. I have no option but to continue to do my
duty to him without fear or favour."
"I presume in return for a certain fee, Mr. Wilkes?"
"You forget yourself, sir."
"In this room, Mr. Wilkes, eliminate from your mind all legal
fictions. Don't, for your own sake, drive the fact that you are acting
as my uncle's bravo too far home. In the face of that letter I begin
to understand why he committed suicide. He was either drunk or mad
when he wrote it. When sobriety or sanity returned, realising the
situation in which he had placed himself, rather than face the
consequences of what he had done, he took his own life. Don't you show
yourself to be in possession of the dastard's courage which he
lacked."
"You take up an extraordinary position, Mr. Elmore."
"What is the position you take up?"
"Here is a letter from a man to his lawyer, in which he gives him
instructions to make certain alterations in his will, stating reasons
why he wishes those alterations to be made. It is signed, dated; its
authenticity can be readily established. I am not sure that it has not
a certain testamentary value."
"Are you suggesting that that letter in any way affects my uncle's
will?"
"I am not prepared to give a definite opinion; but this I will say,
that if its existence were to come to the knowledge of the societies
herein mentioned, they would be justified in taking counsel's opinion,
and quite possibly he would advise their taking further action."
"You are, of course, at liberty to take any steps with regard to that
tissue of libels you please, especially as I have made it, I think,
perfectly clear to you that you will do so at your own proper peril."
"Evidently your uncle was averse to your marrying his daughter. Am I
to take it that you admit so much?"
"Oh, I admit so much; he always was averse to that."
"Then, in that case, you will at once resolve the difficulty by
withdrawing all pretensions to Miss Patterson's hand."
"Damn your impudence, sir."
"Is that your answer?"
"It is; with this addition--that I hope, and intend, to marry Miss
Patterson at the earliest possible moment."
"Then, in that case, you leave me no option but to place this letter
before Miss Patterson."
"Is that meant for a threat?"
Andrews appeared in the doorway to announce that Mr. Parmiter was in
the outer office.
"Show Mr. Parmiter in at once for a few minutes, Andrews, if you
please."
As the young solicitor came in Rodney advanced to greet him.
"Hallo, Parmiter! you come in the very nick of time--you see Mr.
Wilkes has favoured me with his company again. Mr. Wilkes, read to Mr.
Parmiter the letter you just now read to me."
"I shall certainly do nothing of the kind. With all possible respect
to Mr. Parmiter, this is a matter in which he has no _locus standi_,
and in which I cannot recognise him at all."
"Why not? He is my solicitor; he advises me. When you have made known
to him the contents of that letter, don't you think it possible that
he may give me the advice which, apparently, you would like him to
give?"
While he was still speaking the door opened to admit Miss Patterson.
He moved to her with both hands held out.
"Now, here is someone whom, I presume, you will recognise--the very
person. Gladys, here is Mr. Wilkes. He has something which he very
much wishes to say to you."
Returning the letter to its envelope, Mr. Wilkes rose from his chair.
"My hands are not going to be forced by you, Mr. Elmore, don't you
suppose it. In making any communication to Miss Patterson which I may
have to make, I shall prefer to choose my own time and place."
"That's it, is it? I quite appreciate the reasons which actuate you,
Mr. Wilkes, in wishing to make what you call your communication to
Miss Patterson behind my back; and I think that Miss Patterson will
appreciate them equally well. Mr. Wilkes has in his hand what he
claims to be a letter from your father. If you take my advice you will
insist on his showing it to you at once."
Miss Patterson was quick to act on the hint which her lover gave her.
She moved close up to the lawyer.
"Mr. Wilkes, be so good as to let me see the letter to which my cousin
refers."
"With pleasure, Miss Patterson, at--if you will allow me to say
so--some more convenient season; the sooner the better. For instance,
may I have a few minutes' private conversation with you this
afternoon? The matter on which I wish to speak to you is for your ear
only."
"You have spoken of it to my cousin?"
"Oh, yes; he has spoken of it to me."
"Then, why can you not speak of it to me in his presence?"
"I will write to you on the subject, Miss Patterson, and will
endeavour to make my reasons clear."
He made as if to move towards the door. She placed herself in front of
him.
"One moment, Mr. Wilkes. Any letter from you will be handed to Mr.
Elmore, unopened. I will have no private communication with you, nor,
if I can help it, will I have any communication with you of any sort
or kind."
"I regret to hear you say so, Miss Patterson, and can only deplore the
attitude of mind which prompts you to arrive at what I cannot but feel
is a most unfortunate decision."
"You are impertinent, Mr. Wilkes."
The lawyer, with his dark eyes fixed on the lady's face, raised the
hand in which was the envelope which contained the letter with the
intention of slipping it into an inner pocket of his coat. Her quick
glance recognised the handwriting of the address.
"It's from dad!" she cried. "It's a letter from dad!"
She had snatched the letter from between the lawyer's fingers before
he had the faintest inkling of what she was about to do.
"Miss Patterson," he exclaimed, "give me back that letter."
She retreated, as he showed a disposition to advance. Mr. Elmore
interposed himself between the lawyer and the lady.
"Steady, Mr. Wilkes, steady. You told me that it would be your duty to
place that letter in Miss Patterson's hands. It is in her hands. What
objection have you to offer?"
Whatever protest the lawyer might have been inclined to make he
apparently came to the conclusion that, at the moment, it would be
futile to make any. He withdrew himself from Elmore's immediate
neighbourhood, and observed the lady, as she read the letter. She read
it without comment to the end. Then she asked:
"When did you get this letter?"
"It reached my office last night, and me this morning; but, as you
see, it was written on Sunday, and would appear to have been delayed
in the post."
She turned to Rodney.
"Have you read this letter?"
"It has been read aloud to me, which comes to the same thing."
"You know--what he says at the end?"
"I do; Mr. Wilkes took special care of that."
"Is it true?"
"It is absolutely false. There is not one word of truth in it. It
comes to me as a complete surprise. Never by so much as a word did
your father lead me to suppose that he had such thoughts of me. I
cannot conceive what can have been the condition of his mind when he
wrote in such a strain. But that letter enables me to begin to
understand that something must have happened to him mentally, and that
when he committed suicide he actually was insane."
Miss Patterson tore the letter in half from top to bottom. The lawyer
broke into exclamation.
"Miss Patterson! What are you doing? You must not do that! Not only is
it not your letter, but it is a document of the gravest legal
importance."
Paying him no heed whatever, the girl continued in silence the
destruction of the letter, going about the business in the most
thorough-going manner, reducing it to the tiniest atoms. When she had
finished with the letter itself, she proceeded to dispose of the
envelope, Mr. Wilkes expostulating hotly all the time, but kept from
active interference by the insistent fashion with which Mr. Elmore
prevented him from getting near the lady. Compelled at last to own
that it was useless to attempt to stay her, he called upon his
colleague to take notice of the outrage to which the letter was
subjected, to say nothing of himself.
"Mr. Parmiter, you are witness of what is being done. This young lady,
with the connivance and, indeed, assistance of this young man, is
destroying a document of the first importance, which is not only in no
sense her own property, but which was obtained from me by what is
tantamount to an act of robbery, accompanied, in a legal sense, by
violence. Of these facts you will be called upon, in due course, to
give evidence."
Mr. Parmiter was still, but the lady spoke.
"Are you not forgetting that Mr. Parmiter is my solicitor, and that a
solicitor cannot give evidence against his own client? I am sorry to
have to seem to teach you law, Mr. Wilkes. Rodney, have you a match?
If so, will you please burn these?"
She held out the fragments of the letter. Mr. Wilkes made a final
attempt at salvage.
"Miss Patterson, I implore you to give me those scraps of paper. It
may still not be too late to piece them together, and so save you from
consequences of whose gravity you have no notion."
Once more the young gentleman interposed.
"Steady, Mr. Wilkes, steady!"
"Remove your hand from my shoulder, sir! You are only making your
position every moment more and more serious!"
Again the lady spoke.
"To use a phrase of which you seem to be rather fond, Mr. Wilkes, in a
legal sense, I believe this is my room. I must ask you to leave it at
once."
"Not before you have given me those scraps of paper, Miss Patterson!"
"If you won't go, I shall reluctantly have to ask Mr. Elmore to put
you out, and, in doing so, to use no more violence than is necessary."
"I entreat you, Miss Patterson, to accept sound advice, and to do
something which may permit of my repairing the mischief you have
caused. Give me those scraps of paper."
"Rodney, will you please put Mr. Wilkes out? But please don't hurt
him!"
The young man put the lawyer out, doing him no actual bodily hurt. He
conducted him through the outer office to the landing, then addressed
the astonished Andrews.
"Andrews, this is Mr. Stephen Wilkes; I believe you know him. Give
instructions that, under no pretext, is he to be admitted to these
offices again. I shall look to you to see that those instructions are
carried out. Good-day, sir."
Shutting the door in the lawyer's face, he audibly turned the key on
the inner side.
"Now, Andrews, would you mind coming into the other room?"
Miss Patterson greeted her cousin with the request she had already
made. She still had the fragments of the letter between her fingers.
"How about that match, Rodney? Please burn these."
He made a little bonfire of them on the hearth, while she went on:
"I don't suppose you will be very eager now to attend my father's
funeral in the capacity of mourner."
"I am not. I would much rather not go at all, if you will pardon the
abstention."
"I would much rather you did not go either--so, Andrews, that is
settled. Also, be so good as to understand that I should prefer that
the funeral should not start from Russell Square."
Mr. Patterson's body had been removed from the station to the
undertaker's, where it at present reposed in a handsome example of the
undertaker's art. The idea had been to bring it in a hearse to Russell
Square, whence the funeral cortege was to start. It was this
arrangement which Miss Patterson wished to have altered. The managing
man silently acquiesced; there was still time to give instructions
that all that was left of his late employer was to be taken straight
from the undertaker's to the cemetery.