A STARTLING WILL.
Mr. Pettigrew at once took the management of affairs at the house in
Hyde Park Gardens into his hands, as one of the trustees, as joint
guardian of the heir, and as family solicitor. Hilda was completely
prostrated by the two blows that had so suddenly fallen, and was glad
indeed that all necessity for attending to business was taken off her
hands.
"We need not talk about the future at present," Mr. Pettigrew said to
her; "that is a matter that can be considered afterwards. You are most
fortunate in having the lady with whom you so long lived here with you,
and I trust that some permanent arrangement may be made. In any case you
could not, of course, well remain here alone."
"I have not thought anything about it yet," she said wearily. "Oh, I
wish I were a man, Mr. Pettigrew; then I could do something myself
towards searching for Walter, instead of being obliged to sit here
uselessly."
"If you were a man, Miss Covington, you could do nothing more at present
than is being done. The police are keeping up a most vigilant search. I
have offered a reward of five hundred pounds for any news that may lead
to the child's discovery, and notices have even been sent to the
constabularies of all the home counties, requesting them to make
inquiries if any tramp or tramps, accompanied by a child of about the
age of our young ward, have been seen passing along the roads. But, as I
told you when you called upon me, I have little doubt but that it is a
case of blackmail, and that it will not be long before we hear of him.
It is probable that the General's death has somewhat disconcerted them,
and it is likely that they may wait to see how matters go and who is the
person with whom they had best open negotiations. I have no doubt that
they are in some way or other keeping themselves well informed of what
is taking place here."
* * * * *
The funeral was over, the General being followed to the grave by a
number of his military friends and comrades, and the blinds at the house
in Hyde Park Gardens were drawn up again. On the following morning Mr.
Pettigrew came to the house early. He was a man who was methodical in
all his doings, and very rarely ruffled. As soon as he entered, however,
Hilda saw that something unusual had happened.
"Have you heard of Walter?" she exclaimed.
"No, my dear, but I have some strange and unpleasant news to give you.
Yesterday afternoon I received an intimation from Messrs. Halstead &
James, saying that they had in their possession the will of the late
General Mathieson bearing date the 16th of May of the present year. I
need not say that I was almost stupefied at the news. The firm is one of
high standing, and it is impossible to suppose that any mistake has
arisen; at the same time it seemed incredible that the General should
thus have gone behind our backs, especially as it was only three months
before that we had at his request drawn out a fresh will for him. Still,
I am bound to say that such cases are by no means rare. A man wants to
make a fresh disposition of his property, in a direction of which he
feels that his own solicitors, especially when they are old family
solicitors, will not approve, and, therefore, he gets it done by some
other firm, with the result that, at his death, it comes like a
bombshell to all concerned. I can hardly doubt that it is so in this
case, although what dispositions the General may have made of his
property, other than those contained in the last will we drew up, I am
unable to say. At any rate one of the firm will come round to our office
at twelve o'clock with this precious document, and I think that it is
right that you should be present when it is opened. You will be
punctual, will you not?"
"You can rely upon my being there a few minutes before twelve, Mr.
Pettigrew. It all seems very strange. I knew what was the general
purport of my uncle's last will, for he spoke of it to me. It was, he
said, the same as the one before it, with the exception that he had left
a handsome legacy to the man who had saved his life from a tiger. I was
not surprised at this at all. He had taken a very great fancy to this
Mr. Simcoe, who was constantly here, and it seemed to me only natural
that he should leave some of his money to a man who had done him so
great a service, and who, as he told me, had nearly lost his own life in
doing it."
"Quite so," the lawyer agreed; "it seemed natural to us all. His
property was large enough to permit of his doing so without making any
material difference to his grandchild, who will come into a fine estate
with large accumulations during his long minority. Now I must be off."
There was a little council held after the lawyer had left.
"They say troubles never comes singly," Hilda remarked, "and certainly
the adage is verified in my case."
"But we must hope that this will not be so, my dear," Miss Purcell said.
"It cannot be any personal trouble, aunt," for Hilda had fallen back
into her old habit of so addressing her, "because uncle told me that, as
I was so well off, he had only put me down for a small sum in his will,
just to show that he had not forgotten me. I feel sure that he will have
made no change in that respect, and that whatever alteration he may have
made cannot affect me in the least; except, of course, he may have come
to the conclusion that it would be better to appoint two men as
guardians to Walter, but I hardly think that he would have done that.
However, there must be something strange about it, or he would not have
gone to another firm of solicitors. No, I feel convinced that there is
some fresh trouble at hand."
The carriage drew up at the office in Lincoln's Inn at five minutes to
twelve. Mr. Pettigrew had not included Miss Purcell and Netta in the
invitation, but Hilda insisted upon their coming with her. They were
shown at once into his private room, where some extra chairs had been
placed. Colonel Bulstrode was already there, and Mr. Farmer joined his
partner as soon as they were seated.
"This is a most singular affair, Miss Covington," he said, "and I need
hardly say that it is a matter of great annoyance as well as surprise to
Pettigrew and myself. Of course General Mathieson was perfectly free to
go to any other firm of solicitors, but as we have made the wills for
his family and yours for the last hundred years, as well as conducted
all their legal business, it is an unpleasant shock to find that he has
gone elsewhere, and I must say that I am awaiting the reading of this
will with great curiosity, as its contents will doubtless furnish us
with the reason why he had it thus prepared."
Just at the stroke of twelve Mr. Halstead and Mr. James were announced.
"We thought it as well," the former said, "for us both to come, Mr.
Farmer, for we can understand your surprise at finding that a later will
than that which is doubtless in your possession is in existence, and we
are ready to explain the whole circumstances under which it was drawn
out by us. General Mathieson came one day to our office. He brought with
him the card of Colonel Bulstrode; but this was unnecessary, for some
months ago the General was at our office with the Colonel. He was only
there for the purpose of fixing his name as a witness to the colonel's
signature, as our client, like many others, preferred having a personal
friend to witness his signature instead of this being done by one of our
clerks."
"That was so," the Colonel interjected.
"General Mathieson," Mr. Halstead went on, "was only in our office a
minute or two on that occasion, but of course that was sufficient for us
to recognize him when he called again. He told us that he desired us to
draw out a will, and that as he had determined to appoint Mr. Pettigrew
one of his trustees and guardian to his heir, he thought it as well to
employ another firm to draw up the will.
"We pointed out that such a precaution was altogether needless when
dealing with a firm like yours, and he then said, 'I have another
reason. I am making a change in one of the provisions of the will, and I
fancy that Farmer & Pettigrew might raise an argument upon it. Here are
the instructions,' I said, 'You will permit me to read them through,
General, before giving you a decided answer.' Had the will contained any
provision that we considered unjust we should have declined to have had
anything to do with the matter; but as it in no way diverted the
property from the natural heir, and was, as far as we could see, a just
and reasonable one, we saw no cause for refusing to carry out his
instructions; for we have known, as doubtless you have known, many
similar instances, in which men, for some reason or other, have chosen
to go outside their family solicitors in matters which they desired
should remain entirely a secret until after their death. Had General
Mathieson come to us as an altogether unknown person we should have
point-blank refused to have had anything to do with the business; but as
an intimate friend of our client Colonel Bulstrode, and as being known
to us to some extent personally, we decided to follow the instructions
given us in writing. I will now, with your permission, read the will."
"First let me introduce Miss Covington to you," Mr. Farmer said. "She is
the General's nearest relative, with the exception of his grandson.
These ladies are here with her as her friends."
Mr. Halstead bowed, then broke the seals on a large envelope, drew out a
parchment, and proceeded to read it. Messrs. Farmer & Pettigrew listened
with increasing surprise as he went on. The legacies were absolutely
identical with those in the will that they had last prepared. The same
trustees and guardians for the child were appointed, and they were
unable to understand what had induced General Mathieson to have what
was almost a duplicate of his previous will prepared so secretly. The
last paragraph, however, enlightened them. Instead of Hilda Covington,
John Simcoe was named as heir to the bulk of the property in the event
of the decease of Walter Rivington, his grandson, before coming of age.
Hilda gave an involuntary start as the change was announced, and the two
lawyers looked at each other in dismay. Mr. Halstead, to whom the
General had explained his reasons for gratitude to John Simcoe, saw
nothing unusual in the provision, which indeed was heralded with the
words, "as my only near relative, Hilda Covington, is well endowed, I
hereby appoint my dear friend, John Simcoe, my sole heir in the event of
the decease of my grandson, Walter Rivington, before coming of age, in
token of my appreciation of his heroic rescue of myself from the jaws of
a tiger, in the course of which rescue he was most seriously wounded."
When he had finished he laid down the will and looked round.
"I hope," he said, "that this will be satisfactory to all parties."
"By gad, sir," Colonel Bulstrode said hotly, "I should call this last
part as unsatisfactory as possible."
"The will is identical," Mr. Farmer said, without heeding the Colonel's
interjection, "with the one that General Mathieson last executed. The
persons benefited and the amounts left to them are in every case the
same, but you will understand the dismay with which we have heard the
concluding paragraph when I tell you that General Mathieson's heir,
Walter Rivington, now a child of six or seven years old, disappeared--I
think I may say was kidnaped--on the day preceding General Mathieson's
death, and that all efforts to discover his whereabouts have so far been
unsuccessful."
Mr. Halstead and his partner looked at each other with dismay, even
greater than that exhibited by the other lawyers.
"God bless me!" Mr. Halstead exclaimed. "This is a bad business
indeed--and a very strange one. Do you think that this Mr. Simcoe can
have been aware of this provision in his favor?"
"It is likely enough that he was aware of it," Mr. Pettigrew said; "he
was constantly in the company of General Mathieson, and the latter, who
was one of the frankest of men, may very well have informed him; but
whether he actually did do so or not of course I cannot say. Would you
have any objection to my looking at the written instructions?"
"Certainly not. I brought them with me in order that they may be
referred to as to any question that might arise."
"It is certainly in the General's own handwriting," Mr. Pettigrew said,
after looking at the paper. "But, indeed, the identity of the legacies
given to some twenty or thirty persons, and of all the other provisions
of the will, including the appointment of trustees and guardians, with
those of the will in our possession, would seem in itself to set the
matter at rest. Were you present yourself when the General signed it?"
"Certainly. Both Mr. James and myself were present. I can now only
express my deep regret that we acceded to the General's request to draw
up the will."
"It is unfortunate, certainly," Mr. Farmer said. "I do not see that
under the circumstances of his introduction by an old client, and the
fact that you had seen him before, anyone could blame you for
undertaking the matter. Such cases are, as you said, by no means
unusual, and I am quite sure that you would not have undertaken it, had
you considered for a moment that any injustice was being done by its
provisions."
"May I ask to whom the property was to go to by the first will?"
"It was to go to Miss Covington. I am sure that I can say, in her name,
that under other circumstances she would not feel in any way aggrieved
at the loss of a property she can well dispense with, especially as the
chances of that provision coming into effect were but small, as the
child was a healthy little fellow, and in all respects likely to live to
come of age."
"I do not care in the least for myself," Hilda said impetuously. "On the
contrary, I would much rather that it had gone to someone else. I should
not have at all liked the thought that I might benefit by Walter's
death, but I would rather that it had been left to anyone but this man,
whom I have always disliked, and whom Walter also disliked. I cannot
give any reason why. I suppose it was an instinct, and now the instinct
is justified, for I feel sure that he is at the bottom of Walter's
disappearance."
"Hush! hush! my dear young lady," Mr. Farmer said, holding up his hand
in dismay, "you must not say such things; they are libelous in the
extreme. Whatever suspicions you may have--and I own that at present
things look awkward--you must not mention those suspicions until you
obtain some evidence in their support. The disappearance of the child at
this moment may be a mere coincidence--a singular one, if you like--and
we shall, of course, examine the matter to the utmost and sift it to the
bottom, but nothing must be said until we have something to go on."
Hilda sat silent, with her lips pressed tightly together and an
expression of determination upon her face. The other solicitors speedily
left, after more expressions of regret.
"What are we going to do next, Mr. Pettigrew?" Hilda asked abruptly, as
the door closed behind them.
"That is too difficult a matter to decide off-hand, but after going into
the whole matter with my co-trustee, Colonel Bulstrode, with the
assistance of my partner, we shall come to some agreement as to the best
course to take. Of course we could oppose the probate of this new will,
but it does not seem to me that we have a leg to stand upon in that
respect. I have no doubt that Halstead & James will retire altogether
from the matter, and refuse to act further. In that case it will be my
duty, of course, to acquaint Simcoe with the provisions of the will,
and to inform him that we, as trustees, shall not proceed to take any
further steps in the matter until the fate of Walter Rivington is
ascertained, but shall until then administer the estate in his behalf.
It will then be for him to take the next step, and he certainly will not
move for some months. After a time he will, of course, apply to the
court to have it declared that Walter Rivington, having disappeared for
a long time, there is reasonable presumption of his death. I shall then,
in your name and mine, as the child's guardians, be heard in opposition,
and I feel sure that the court will refuse to grant the petition,
especially under the serious and most suspicious circumstances of the
case. In time Simcoe will repeat the application, and we shall of course
oppose it. In fact, I think it likely that it will be a good many years
before the court will take the step asked, and all that time we shall be
quietly making inquiries about this man and his antecedents, and we
shall, of course, keep up a search for the child. It may be that his
disappearance is only a coincidence, and that he has, as we at first
supposed, been stolen for the purpose of making a heavy claim for his
return."
"You may be sure that I shall not rest until I find him, Mr. Pettigrew,"
Hilda said. "I shall devote my life to it. I love the child dearly; but
even were he a perfect stranger to me I would do everything in my power,
if only to prevent this man from obtaining the proceeds of his
villainy."
Mr. Farmer again interposed.
"My dear Miss Covington," he said, "you really must not speak like this.
Of course, with us it is perfectly safe. I admit that you have good
reason for your indignation, but you must really moderate your
expressions, which might cause infinite mischief were you to use them
before other people. In the eye of the law a man is innocent until he is
proved guilty, and we have not a shadow of proof that this man has
anything to do with the child's abduction. Moreover, it might do harm in
other ways. To begin with, it might render the discovery of the child
more difficult; for if his abductors were aware or even suspected that
you were searching in all directions for him, they would take all the
greater pains to conceal his hiding-place."
"I will be careful, Mr. Farmer, but I shall proceed to have a search
made at every workhouse and night refuge and place of that sort in
London, and within twenty miles round, and issue more placards of your
offer of a reward of five hundred pounds for information. There is no
harm in that."
"Certainly not. Those are the measures that one would naturally take in
any case. Indeed, I should already have pushed my inquiries in that
direction, but I have hitherto felt sure that had he been merely taken
for his clothes, the police would have traced him before now; but as
they have not been able to do so, that it was a case of blackmail, and
that we should hear very shortly from the people that had stolen him. I
sincerely trust that this may the case, and that it will turn out that
this man Simcoe has nothing whatever to do with it. I will come down and
let you know what steps we are taking from time to time, and learn the
directions in which you are pushing your inquiries."
Neither Miss Purcell nor Netta had spoken from the time they had entered
the room, but as soon as they took their places in the carriage waiting
for them, they burst out.
"What an extraordinary thing, Hilda! And yet," Miss Purcell added, "the
search for Walter may do good in one way; it will prevent you from
turning your thoughts constantly to the past and to the loss that you
have suffered."
"If it had not been for Walter being missing, aunt, I should have
thought nothing of uncle's appointing Mr. Simcoe as heir to his property
if anything should happen to him. This man had obtained an extraordinary
influence over him, and there can be no doubt from uncle's statement to
me that he owed his life solely to him, and that Simcoe indeed was
seriously injured in saving him. He knew that I had no occasion for the
money, and have already more than is good for a girl to have at her
absolute disposal; therefore I am in no way surprised that he should
have left him his estate in the event of Walter's death. All that is
quite right, and I have nothing to say against it, except that I have
always disliked the man. It is only the extraordinary disappearance of
Walter, just at this moment, that seems to me to render it certain that
Simcoe is at the bottom of it. No one else could have had any motive for
stealing Walter, more than any other rich man's child. His interest in
his disappearance is immense. I have no doubt uncle had told him what he
had done, and the man must have seen that his chance of getting the
estate was very small unless the child could be put out of the way."
"You don't think," Netta began, "that any harm can have happened to
him?"
"No, I don't think that. Whether this man would have shrunk from it if
there were no other way, I need not ask myself; but there could have
been no occasion for it. Walter is so young that he will very soon
forget the past; he might be handed over to a gypsy and grow up a little
vagrant, and as there is no mark on him by which he might be identified,
he would be lost to us forever. You see the man can afford to wait. He
has doubtless means of his own--how large I do not know, but I have
heard my uncle say that he had handsome chambers, and certainly he lived
in good style. Now he will have this legacy of ten thousand pounds, and
if the court keeps him waiting ten or fifteen years before pronouncing
Walter dead, he can afford to wait. Anyhow, I shall have plenty of time
in which to act, and it will require a lot of thinking over before I
decide what I had best do."
She lost no time, however, in beginning to work. Posters offering the
reward of five hundred pounds for information of the missing boy were at
once issued, and stuck up not only in London, but in every town and
village within thirty miles. Then she obtained from Mr. Pettigrew the
name of a firm of trustworthy private detectives and set them to make
inquiries, in the first place at all the institutions where a lost child
would be likely to be taken if found, or where it might have been left
by a tramp. Two days after the reading of the will she received the
following letter from John Simcoe:
"DEAR MISS COVINGTON: I have learned from Messrs. Farmer &
Pettigrew the liberal and I may say extraordinary generosity shown
towards myself by the late General Mathieson, whose loss I most
deeply deplore. My feelings of gratitude are at the present moment
overwhelmed by the very painful position in which I find myself. I
had, of course, heard, upon calling at your door to make inquiries,
that little Walter was missing, and was deeply grieved at the news,
though not at the time dreaming that it could affect me personally.
Now, however, the circumstances of the case are completely changed,
for, by the provisions of the will, I should benefit pecuniarily by
the poor child's death. I will not for a moment permit myself to
believe that he is not alive and well, and do not doubt that you
will speedily recover him; but, until this occurs, I feel that some
sort of suspicion must attach to me, who am the only person having
an interest in his disappearance. The thought that this may be so
is distressing to me in the extreme. Since I heard of his
disappearance I have spent the greater part of my time in
traversing the slums of London in hopes of lighting upon him. I
shall now undertake wider researches, and shall to-day insert
advertisements in all the daily papers, offering one thousand
pounds for his recovery. I feel sure that you at least will not for
a moment entertain unjust suspicions concerning me, but those who
do not know me well may do so, and although at present none of the
facts have been made public, I feel as if I were already under a
cloud, and that men in the club look askance at me, and unless the
child is found my position will speedily become intolerable. My
only support in this trial is my consciousness of innocence. You
will excuse me for intruding upon your sorrow at the present
moment, but I felt compelled to write as I have done, and to assure
you that I will use every effort in my power to discover the child,
not only for his own sake and yours, but because I feel that until
he is discovered I must continue to rest under the terrible, if
unspoken, suspicion of being concerned in his disappearance.
"Believe me, yours very truly,
"JOHN SIMCOE."