MRS. GASTON LATHAM.
Solicitor Wendell Haynes sat at his desk, at half past two, seemingly
busy, while across the room, at a smaller desk, sat a second person,
with his shoulder toward the outer door, and a screen partially
concealing him. From the inner room came the low hum of voices. At the
side of the room where the clerk's desk stood, and the tall bookcase
towered before the concealed door, the curtains were lowered; but there
was a strong light upon the solicitor's corner, and upon the chair,
placed near his desk, manifestly, for a visitor.
When Ferrars appeared without the disguise he was expected to wear, the
solicitor wondered. But the detective explained in a few words. He had
made certain discoveries which would enable him to end a very unpleasant
piece of business at once, he hoped. And his disguise would only hamper
him.
"I must ask you, however, to add something to your _role_," he said
finally, and at once made plain what more would be required of the
solicitor.
As for Ruth Glidden, she had waited in dignified silence, and much to
the wonder of the politely reserved solicitor, until Ferrars appeared,
and then she went straight to his side.
"Mr. Ferrars," she said, so low that the others caught only the soft
murmur, "It came to me, almost at the last moment, that a woman might
not be amiss here now if she comes alone. You can trust me, surely?"
Ferrars gave her a sudden look of gratitude. "Thank you for showing me
my own brutality," he replied. "I can trust you, and I do thank you;
there could have been no one else." And Ruth went back to the inner room
smiling a little, as she met her lover's eye.
To guard against all emergencies, the detective had left with the
inspector a card telling him, and his men, where a telegram would reach
him at different hours of the day, and at a quarter past two a message
arrived, bearing the signature of the Swiss.
"Q. H. and a lady on the way to meet you now."
So it ran, and having read it, Ferrars asked:
"Is your boy safe, Mr. Haynes? and trusty?"
"Quite. I find him really valuable."
"Then please instruct him to go and bring a brace of policemen, as soon
as he has shown the next arrivals in." And he held out the telegram by
way of explanation, adding, as the solicitor read and returned it, "The
man is coming, too. I can't just see why. But we will soon know. By the
way, that door on the north side, in the inner room; where does it lead
one?"
"Into a side hall, connecting with the other."
"I thought so. Then, as soon as they are in, I will just slip out,
myself, and see my man, who won't be far from your door, you may be
sure, once his quarry is inside. He will be needed, perhaps, to serve
the warrant, which he carries, ready for an emergency. Hist!"
There was the sound of an opening door, and, as Ferrars seated himself,
the office boy entered and announced the two visitors.
The lady, who entered and bowed in stately fashion to the solicitor, was
all in gray, except where, here and there, a bit of violet protruded.
The hair, which was white, rather than gray, was worn low about the
ears, and rolled back from the centre of the forehead, giving an effect
of length to the face. The eyes looked dark, behind their gold rimmed
glasses, and seemed set far back, in dark hollows. The mouth was
slightly sunken, but the cheeks and chin, though pale, were sound and
smooth, and the brow showed a scarcely perceptible wrinkle, beneath a
veil of gray gauze spotted with black. She had a plump figure, its
fulness accentuated by her rustling gray silk gown, with its spreading
mantle glittering with steel beads, and finished with a thick,
outstanding ruche at the neck. Atop of the high coifed white hair, sat a
dainty Parisian bonnet, all gray beads and violets, and the small hands
were daintily gloved, in pearl gray.
"I have taken the liberty of bringing my husband's brother, Mr. Haynes,"
she said, as she advanced into the room, "Mr. Harry Latham."
The tall, dark fellow behind her advanced, and proffered a hand with an
air of easy geniality.
"Mrs. Latham," he explained, "fancied I might be of some use by way of
identification. I hope my presence is not _de trop_; if so----"
"You are very welcome, sir. Sit down, pray, and we will begin our little
inquiry. You have brought the papers, Mrs. Latham?"
Mrs. Latham, who had been looking with something like disapproval upon
her aristocratic face, toward the partly visible person behind the
screen, turned toward the speaker, and, as she advanced to lay a packet
of papers, produced from a little bag, upon the desk, the solicitor
called out, as if by her suggestion, "Richards, I shall not need you
for an hour or more." And before the lady could turn toward him again,
the man at the desk had vanished through the door just at his back.
Glancing toward this closed door, the lady seated herself, and drew the
packet toward her. "I suppose we may begin with these?" she said,
untying the packet with deft fingers, and laying the papers one by one
upon the desk before the solicitor, as she talked. "I think all the
needed proofs are here; my marriage certificate, and that of my mother
as well; other family papers that may, or may not, be of use--letters
relating to family matters and to the Paisleys of an earlier day--a copy
of the will of Hugo Paisley the first, letters announcing the deaths of
various members of the family; also a copy of my grandfather's will. I
think you will find them quite correct, and conclusive." She stopped,
and looked at him inquiringly. "You will need to examine them, of
course, if only for form's sake?" she asked, somewhat crisply.
"Possibly, yes. All in good time, madam." The solicitor took up one of
the papers, and glanced at the first words.
"I would like to ask," now spoke Harry Latham, "how soon--supposing of
course all things are correct, and Mrs. Latham's claim proved--how soon
can she take personal and complete possession of the property? I am a
busy man, myself, and my time----"
"I fancy you will not be needed after to-day," broke in Mr. Haynes,
somewhat abruptly. "As to the property, once the claim is proven there
need not be a day's delay. The late incumbent was a very far-seeing
person." He turned abruptly to Mrs. Latham. "Madam, may I ask why you
were not more prompt in putting forward your claim to so fine an
estate?"
She turned toward him with a slow smile.
"That is a most natural question. I did not at first imagine myself a
claimant; a certain Hugo Paisley, the younger, or his heirs, was before
me in the line of succession, and I have waited to see if they would not
be heard from. I had no wish to claim that which might not have been
mine."
"And you are satisfied now that no such heirs exist? Of course this must
be proven."
"Of course, I have been at some pains, and to much expense, to learn if
there were such heirs. With the help of friends we made inquiry in the
United States, where Hugo went years ago. He was never heard of again."
"And was your search rewarded by definite news?"
"By an accident we learned of a member of the family, and through him
traced all the remaining ones. They were three, a mother, the great
granddaughter of Hugo Paisley, and two sons. The mother has been dead
some years. They were not a rugged family."
"Consumption," came from the dark man at her elbow.
"Yes, consumption. The two sons died within a few months of each other."
"I see. And of course you have the proofs of death?"
"They can readily be proved at need," the lady coldly answered.
"Then there remains but one more question, where you are concerned.
Supposing your claim to be disputed, could you prove beyond a doubt that
you are the Bessie Cramer, who was the last descendant in this country
of the Paisleys, your mother having been a Paisley?"
"Of course!"
"And you are then able to furnish proof that there was no other Mrs.
Gaston Latham? That Gaston Latham married only one wife?"
A loud laugh broke upon this speech, and the man arose.
"Would the word of Gaston's only brother be of any worth as a witness to
the marriage, the only marriage of his only brother? Fortunately I knew
Miss Bessie Cramer as a slim young girl. I was a boy in roundabouts
then."
Solicitor Haynes arose, and looked gravely down upon his client,
ignoring the man's words, and even his presence.
"I must tell you, Mrs. Latham, that there has been a claim set up by the
American heirs."
"There are no heirs!" warmly.
"Only yesterday I had a visit from an American gentleman, a Mr. Myers,
attorney-at-law. Do you know of him?"
"I know no Americans, and very little of the country."
"Then you have never crossed the ocean?"
"No, indeed! It's quite enough for me to cross the channel."
"Mr. Myers has presented a claim." The solicitor's eyes were narrowing.
"For whom?"
"For--a--I think the name is Brierly; as I was about to say, having made
an appointment with you, I thought it best that you should meet him." He
touched the bell at his side, as he spoke the last word.
"But," interposed the man, "this is some old claim, or else a fraud! The
Brierlys are dead!" The last words harshly guttural.
The office boy had entered now, and Mr. Haynes quietly gave his order.
"See if Mr. Myers is in number seventeen, William."
"Mr. Haynes," said Mrs. Latham, with a touch of haughtiness, "Why
should I need to see this man? These deaths can be proved."
The solicitor bowed formally. "So much the worse for Mr. Myers and his
claim," he said. "Of course you must meet him; there's no other
alternative. He is a gentleman, and he certainly believes in his claim."
"He's not up to date, then," interposed the brother-in-law, somewhat
coarsely, and even as he spoke the door opened, and Mr. Myers, having
taken his way around by the side hall, entered, hat in hand.