By Grant Allen.
"Is Lady Georgina at home?"
The discreet man-servant in sober black clothes eyed me suspiciously.
"No, miss," he answered. "That is to say--no, ma'am. Her ladyship is
still at Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's--the late Mr. Marmaduke Ashurst's, I
mean--in Park Lane North. You know the number, ma'am?"
"Yes, I know it," I replied, with a gasp; for this was indeed a triumph.
My one fear had been lest Lord Southminster should already have taken
possession--why, you will see hereafter; and it relieved me to learn
that Lady Georgina was still at hand to guard my husband's interests.
She had been living at the house, practically, since her brother's
death. I drove round with all speed, and flung myself into my dear old
lady's arms.
[Illustration: "I'VE HELD THE FORT BY MAIN FORCE."]
"Kiss me," I cried, flushed. "I am your niece!" But she knew it already,
for our movements had been fully reported by this time (with picturesque
additions) in the morning papers. Imagination, ill-developed in the
English race, seems to concentrate itself in the lower order of
journalists.
She kissed me on both cheeks with unwonted tenderness. "Lois," she
cried, with tears in her eyes, "you're a brick!" It was not exactly
poetical at such a moment, but from her it meant more than much gushing
phraseology.
"And you're here in possession!" I murmured.
The Cantankerous Old Lady nodded. She was in her element, I must admit.
She dearly loved a row--above all, a family row; but to be in the thick
of a family row, and to feel herself in the right, with the law against
her--that was joy such as Lady Georgina had seldom before experienced.
"Yes, dear," she burst out volubly, "I'm in possession, thank Heaven.
And what's more, they won't oust me without a legal process. I've been
here, off and on, you know, ever since poor dear Marmy died, looking
after things for Harold; and I shall look after them still, till Bertie
Southminster succeeds in ejecting me, which won't be easy. Oh, I've held
the fort by main force, I can tell you; held it like a Trojan. Bertie's
in a precious great hurry to move in, I can see; but I won't allow him.
He's been down here this morning, fatuously blustering, and trying to
carry the post by storm, with a couple of policemen."
"Policemen!" I cried. "To turn you out?"
"Yes, my dear, policemen: but (the Lord be praised) I was too much for
him. There are legal formalities to fulfil yet; and I won't budge an
inch, Lois, not one inch, my dear, till he's fulfilled every one of
them. Mark my words, child, that boy's up to some devilry."
"He is," I answered.
"Yes, he wouldn't be in such a rampaging hurry to get in--being as lazy
as he's empty-headed--takes after Gwendoline in that--if he hadn't some
excellent reason for wishing to take possession: and depend upon it, the
reason is that he wants to get hold of something or other that's
Harold's. But he sha'n't if I can help it; and thank my stars, I'm a
dour woman to reckon with. If he comes, he comes over my old bones,
child. I've been overhauling everything of Marmy's, I can tell you, to
checkmate the boy if I can; but I've found nothing yet, and till I've
satisfied myself on that point, I'll hold the fort still, if I have to
barricade that pasty-faced scoundrel of a nephew of mine out by piling
the furniture against the front door--I will as sure as my name's
Georgina Fawley!"
"I know you will, dear," I assented, kissing her, "and so I shall
venture to leave you, while I go out to institute another little
inquiry."
"What inquiry?"
I shook my head. "It's only a surmise," I said, hesitating, "I'll tell
you about it later. I've had time to think while I've been coming back
in the train, and I've thought of many things. Mount guard till I
return, and mind you don't let Lord Southminster have access to
anything."
"I'll shoot him first, dear." And I believe she meant it.
I drove on in the same cab to Harold's solicitor. There I laid my fresh
doubts at once before him. He rubbed his bony hands. "You've hit it!" he
cried, charmed. "My dear madam, you've hit it! I never did like that
will. I never did like the signatures, the witnesses, the look of it.
But what could I do? Mr. Tillington propounded it. Of course it wasn't
my business to go dead against my own client."
"Then you doubted Harold's honour, Mr. Hayes?" I cried, flushing.
[Illustration: "'NEVER!' HE ANSWERED. 'NEVER!'"]
"Never!" he answered. "Never! I felt sure there must be some mistake
somewhere, but not any trickery on--your husband's part. Now, _you_
supply the right clue. We must look into this, immediately."
He hurried round with me at once in the same cab to the court. The
incriminated will had been "impounded," as they call it; but, under
certain restrictions, and subject to the closest surveillance, I was
allowed to examine it with my husband's solicitor, before the eyes of
the authorities. I looked at it long with the naked eye and also with a
small pocket lens. The paper, as I had noted before, was the same kind
of foolscap as that which I had been in the habit of using at my office
in Florence; and the typewriting--was it mine? The longer I looked at
it, the more I doubted it.
After a careful examination I turned round to our solicitor. "Mr.
Hayes," I said, firmly, having arrived at my conclusion, "this is _not_
the document I type-wrote at Florence."
"How do you know?" he asked. "A different machine? Some small
peculiarity in the shape of the letters?"
"No, the rogue who typed this will was too cunning for that. He didn't
allow himself to be foiled by such a scholar's mate. It is written with
a Spread Eagle, the same sort of machine precisely as my own. I know the
type perfectly. But----" I hesitated.
"But what?"
"Well, it is difficult to explain. There is character in typewriting,
just as there is in handwriting, only, of course, not quite so much of
it. Every operator is liable to his own peculiar tricks and blunders. If
I had some of my own typewritten manuscript here to show you, I could
soon make that evident."
"I can easily believe it. Individuality runs through all we do, however
seemingly mechanical. But are the points of a sort that you could make
clear in court to the satisfaction of a jury?"
"I think so. Look here, for example. Certain letters get habitually
mixed up in typewriting; _c_ and _v_ stand next one another on the
keyboard of the machine, and the person who typed this draft sometimes
strikes a _c_ instead of a _v_, or _vice versâ_. I never do that. The
letters I tend to confuse are _s_ and _w_, or else _e_ and _r_, which
also come very near one another in the arbitrary arrangement. Besides,
when I type-wrote the original of this will, I made no errors at all; I
took such very great pains about it."
"And this person did make errors?"
"Yes; struck the wrong letter first, and then corrected it often by
striking another rather hard on top of it. See, this was a _v_ to begin
with, and he turned it into a _c_. Besides, the hand that wrote this
will is heavier than mine: it comes down _thump, thump, thump_, while
mine glides lightly. And the hyphens are used with a space between them,
and the character of the punctuation is not exactly as I make it."
"Still," Mr. Hayes objected, "we have nothing but your word. I'm afraid,
in such a case, we could never induce a jury to accept your unsupported
evidence."
"I don't want them to accept it," I answered. "I am looking this up for
my own satisfaction. I want to know, first, who wrote this will. And of
one thing I am quite clear: it is _not_ the document I drew up for Mr.
Ashurst. Just look at that _x_. The _x_ alone is conclusive. My
typewriter had the upper right-hand stroke of the small _x_ badly
formed, or broken, while this one is perfect. I remember it well,
because I used always to improve all my lower-case _x_'s with a pen when
I re-read and corrected. I see their dodge clearly now. It is a most
diabolical conspiracy. Instead of forging a will in Lord Southminster's
favour, they have substituted a forgery for the real will, and then
managed to make my poor Harold prove it."
"In that case, no doubt, they have destroyed the real one, the
original," Mr. Hayes put in.
"I don't think so," I answered, after a moment's deliberation. "From
what I know of Mr. Ashurst, I don't believe it is likely he would have
left his will about carelessly anywhere. He was a secretive man, fond of
mysteries and mystifications. He would be sure to conceal it. Besides,
Lady Georgina and Harold have been taking care of everything in the
house ever since he died."
"But," Mr. Hayes objected, "the forger of this document, supposing it to
be forged, must have had access to the original, since you say the terms
of the two are identical; only the signatures are forgeries. And if he
saw and copied it, why might he not also have destroyed it?"
A light flashed across me all at once. "The forger _did_ see the
original," I cried, "but not the fair copy. I have it all now! I detect
their trick! It comes back to me vividly! When I had finished typing the
copy at Florence from my first rough draft, which I had taken down on
the machine before Mr. Ashurst's eyes, I remember now that I threw the
original into the waste-paper basket. It must have been there that
evening when Higginson called and asked for the will to take it back to
Mr. Ashurst. He called for it, no doubt, hoping to open the packet
before he delivered it and make a copy of the document for this very
purpose. But I refused to let him have it. Before he saw me, however, he
had been left by himself for ten minutes in the office; for I remember
coming out to him and finding him there alone: and during that ten
minutes, being what he is, you may be sure he fished out the rough draft
and appropriated it!"
"That is more than likely," my solicitor nodded. "You are tracking him
to his lair. We shall have him in our power."
[Illustration: "WE SHALL HAVE HIM IN OUR POWER."]
I grew more and more excited as the whole cunning plot unravelled itself
mentally step by step before me. "He must then have gone to Lord
Southminster," I went on, "and told him of the legacy he expected from
Mr. Ashurst. It was five hundred pounds--a mere trifle to Higginson, who
plays for thousands. So he must have offered to arrange matters for Lord
Southminster if Southminster would consent to make good that sum and a
great deal more to him. That odious little cad told me himself on the
_Jumna_ they were engaged in pulling off 'a big _coup_' between them. He
thought then I would marry him, and that he would so secure my
connivance in his plans; but who would marry such a piece of moist clay?
Besides, I could never have taken anyone but Harold." Then another clue
came home to me. "Mr. Hayes," I cried, jumping at it, "Higginson, who
forged this will, never saw the real document itself at all; he saw only
the draft: for Mr. Ashurst altered one word _viva voce_ in the original
at the last moment, and I made a pencil note of it on my cuff at the
time: and see, it isn't here, though I inserted it in the final clean
copy of the will--the word 'especially.' It grows upon me more and more
each minute that the real instrument is hidden somewhere in Mr.
Ashurst's house--Harold's house--our house; and that _because_ it is
there, Lord Southminster is so indecently anxious to oust his aunt and
take instant possession."
"In that case," Mr. Hayes remarked, "we had better go back to Lady
Georgina without one minute's delay, and, while she still holds the
house, institute a thorough search for it."
No sooner said than done. We jumped again into our cab and started. As
we drove back, Mr. Hayes asked me where I thought we were most likely to
find it.
"In a secret drawer in Mr. Ashurst's desk," I answered, by a flash of
instinct, without a second's hesitation.
"How do you know there's a secret drawer?"
"I don't know it. I infer it from my general knowledge of Mr. Ashurst's
character. He loved secret drawers, ciphers, cryptograms,
mystery-mongering."
"But it was in that desk that your husband found the forged document,"
the lawyer objected.
Once more I had a flash of inspiration or intuition. "Because White, Mr.
Ashurst's valet, had it in readiness in his possession," I answered,
"and hid it there, in the most obvious and unconcealed place he could
find, as soon as the breath was out of his master's body. I remember now
Lord Southminster gave himself away to some extent in that matter. The
hateful little creature isn't really clever enough, for all his
cunning--and with Higginson to back him--to mix himself up in such
tricks as forgery. He told me at Aden he had had a telegram from
'Marmy's valet,' to report progress; and he received another, the night
Mr. Ashurst died, at Moozuffernuggar. Depend upon it, White was more or
less in this plot; Higginson left him the forged will when they started
for India; and as soon as Mr. Ashurst died White hid it where Harold was
bound to find it."
"If so," Mr. Hayes answered, "that's well; we have something to go upon.
The more of them, the better. There is safety in numbers--for the honest
folk. I never knew three rogues hold long together, especially when
threatened with a criminal prosecution. Their confederacy breaks down
before the chance of punishment. Each tries to screen himself by
betraying the others."
"Higginson was the soul of this plot," I went on. "Of that you may be
sure. He's a wily old fox, but we'll run him to earth yet. The more I
think of it, the more I feel sure, from what I know of Mr. Ashurst's
character, he would never have put that will in so exposed a place as
the one where Harold says he found it."
We drew up at the door of the disputed house just in time for the siege.
Mr. Hayes and I walked in. We found Lady Georgina face to face with Lord
Southminster. The opposing forces were still at the stage of
preliminaries of warfare.
"Look heah," the pea-green young man was observing, in his drawling
voice, as we entered; "it's no use your talking, deah Georgey. This
house is mine, and I won't have you meddling with it."
"This house is not yours, you odious little scamp," his aunt retorted,
raising her shrill voice some notes higher than usual; "and while I can
hold a stick you shall not come inside it."
"Very well, then; you drive me to hostilities, don't yah know. I'm sorry
to show disrespect to your grey hairs--if any--but I shall be obliged to
call in the police to eject yah."
"Call them in if you like," I answered, interposing between them. "Go
out and get them! Mr. Hayes, while he's gone, send for a carpenter to
break open the back of Mr. Ashurst's escritoire."
"A carpentah?" he cried, turning several degrees whiter than his pasty
wont. "What for? A carpentah?"
I spoke distinctly. "Because we have reason to believe Mr. Ashurst's
real will is concealed in this house in a secret drawer, and because the
keys were in the possession of White, whom we believe to be your
accomplice in this shallow conspiracy."
He gasped and looked alarmed. "No, you don't," he cried, stepping
briskly forward. "You don't, I tell yah! Break open Marmy's desk! Why,
hang it all, it's my property."
"We shall see about that after we've broken it open," I answered,
grimly. "Here, this screw-driver will do. The back's not strong. Now,
your help, Mr. Hayes--one, two, three; we can prise it apart between
us."
Lord Southminster rushed up and tried to prevent us. But Lady Georgina,
seizing both wrists, held him tight as in a vice with her dear skinny
old hands. He writhed and struggled, all in vain: he could not escape
her. "I've often spanked you, Bertie," she cried, "and if you attempt to
interfere, I'll spank you again; that's the long and the short of it!"
He broke from her and rushed out, to call the police, I believe, and
prevent our desecration of poor Marmy's property.
Inside the first shell were several locked drawers, and two or three
open ones, out of one of which Harold had fished the false will.
Instinct taught me somehow that the central drawer on the left-hand side
was the compartment behind which lay the secret receptacle. I prised it
apart and peered about inside it. Presently, I saw a slip-panel, which I
touched with one finger. The pigeon-hole flew open and disclosed a
narrow slit. I clutched at something--the will! Ho, victory! the will! I
raised it aloft with a wild shout. Not a doubt of it! The real, the
genuine document!
We turned it over and read it. It was my own fair copy, written at
Florence, and bearing all the small marks of authenticity about it which
I had pointed out to Mr. Hayes as wanting to the forged and impounded
document. Fortunately, Lady Georgina and four of the servants had stood
by throughout this scene, and had watched our demeanour, as well as Lord
Southminster's.
We turned next to the signatures. The principal one was clearly Mr.
Ashurst's--I knew it at once--his legible fat hand, "Marmaduke Courtney
Ashurst." And then the witnesses? They fairly took our breath away.
"Why, Higginson's sister isn't one of them at all," Mr. Hayes cried,
astonished.
A flush of remorse came over me. I saw it all now. I had misjudged that
poor woman! She had the misfortune to be a rogue's sister, but, as
Harold had said, was herself a most respectable and blameless person.
Higginson must have forged her name to the document; that was all; and
she had naturally sworn that she never signed it. He knew her honesty.
It was a master-stroke of rascality.
[Illustration: "VICTORY."]
"The other one isn't here, either," I exclaimed, growing more puzzled.
"The waiter at the hotel! Why, that's another forgery! Higginson must
have waited till the man was safely dead, and then used him similarly.
It was all very clever. Now, who are these people who really witnessed
it?"
"The first one," Mr. Hayes said, examining the handwriting, "is Sir
Roger Bland, the Dorsetshire baronet: he's dead, poor fellow; but he was
at Florence at the time, and I can answer for his signature. He was a
client of mine, and died at Mentone. The second is Captain Richards, of
the Mounted Police: he's living still, but he's away in South Africa."
"Then they risked his turning up?"
"If they knew who the real witnesses were at all--which is doubtful. You
see, as you say, they may have seen the rough draft only."
"Higginson would know," I answered. "He was with Mr. Ashurst at Florence
at the time, and he would take good care to keep a watch upon his
movements. In my belief, it was he who suggested this whole plot to Lord
Southminster."
"Of course it was," Lady Georgina put in. "That's absolutely certain.
Bertie's a rogue as well as a fool: but he's too great a fool to invent
a clever roguery, and too great a knave not to join in it foolishly when
anybody else takes the pains to invent it."
"And it _was_ a clever roguery," Mr. Hayes interposed. "An ordinary
rascal would have forged a later will in Lord Southminster's favour, and
run the risk of detection: Higginson had the acuteness to forge a will
exactly like the real one, and to let your husband bear the burden of
the forgery. It was as sagacious as it was ruthless."
"The next point," I said, "will be for us to prove it."
At that moment the bell rang, and one of the house-servants--all puzzled
by this conflict of interests--came in with a telegram, which he handed
me on a salver. I broke it open, without glancing at the envelope. Its
contents baffled me: "My address is Hotel Bristol, Paris; name as usual.
Send me a thousand pounds on account at once. I can't afford to wait. No
shillyshallying."
The message was unsigned. For a moment, I couldn't imagine who sent it,
or what it was driving at.
Then I took up the envelope. "Viscount Southminster, 24, Park Lane
North, London."
My heart gave a jump. I saw in a second that chance or Providence had
delivered the conspirators into my hands that day. The telegram was from
Higginson! I had opened it by accident.
It was obvious what had happened. Lord Southminster must have written to
him on the result of the trial, and told him he meant to take possession
of his uncle's house immediately. Higginson had acted on that hint, and
addressed his telegram where he thought it likely Lord Southminster
would receive it earliest. I had opened it in error, and that, too, was
fortunate, for even in dealing with such a pack of scoundrels, it would
never have occurred to me to violate somebody else's correspondence had
I not thought it was addressed to me. But having arrived at the truth
thus unintentionally, I had, of course, no scruples about making full
use of my information.
I showed the despatch at once to Lady Georgina and Mr. Hayes. They
recognised its importance. "What next?" I inquired. "Time presses. At
half-past three Harold comes up for examination at Bow Street."
Mr. Hayes was ready with an apt expedient. "Ring the bell for Mr.
Ashurst's valet," he said, quietly. "The moment has now arrived when we
can begin to set these conspirators by the ears. As soon as they learn
that we know all, they will be eager to inform upon one another."