A CRUSHING EXPOSURE.
The case of the application by John Simcoe for an order for the trustees
of the will of the late General Mathieson to carry its provisions into
effect was on the list of cases for the day. Tom Roberts was walking up
and down in Westminster Hall, waiting for it to come on, when he saw a
face he knew.
"Hullo, Sergeant Nichol, what brings you here?"
"Just curiosity, Roberts. I happened to see in the list of cases one of
Simcoe against the trustees of General Mathieson. 'What,' I said to
himself, 'Simcoe? That is the name of the chap who saved General
Mathieson's life.' I remember their being both brought into cantonment,
as well as if it were yesterday. I was with Paymaster-Sergeant
Sanderson, the fellow who bolted a short time afterwards with three
hundred pounds from the pay-chest and never was heard of afterwards. We
heard that Simcoe was drowned at sea; and sorry we all were, for a
braver fellow never stepped in shoe leather, and there was not a man
there who did not feel that he owed him a debt of gratitude for saving
the brigadier's life. So when I saw the paper I said to myself, 'Either
the man was not drowned at all, or he must be some relation of his. I
will go into court and have a look at him.'"
"It is the same man, but I am sorry to say that, though he may be as
brave as a lion, he is a rogue. But you can see him without going into
court. That is him, talking with the man in a wig and gown and that
little man in black, who is, I suppose, his lawyer. He knows me, so I
won't go near him; but you can walk as close as you like to him, and
take a good look at him."
Not content with looking once, Sergeant Nichol passed him backwards and
forwards three times. When he rejoined Roberts the latter saw that he
looked flushed and excited.
"What is it, sergeant?"
"I don't believe it is Simcoe at all," the sergeant said. "It is that
man Sanderson I was speaking about just now. Several of us noticed how
like he was to Simcoe, but the expression of their faces was different.
Simcoe was five or six years younger, and had a pleasant expression;
Sanderson had a hard face. None of us liked him, he was a man one could
never get friendly with; you might be in the same mess for years and not
know more about him at the end than you did at the beginning. Of course,
they would both be changed a good deal by this time, but I don't believe
that Simcoe would have grown so as to be like this man; and I am sure
that Sanderson would. He had a mark on him that I should know him by.
One day when he was a recruit his musket went off, and the ball went
through his left forearm. It was only a flesh wound, but it left a
blackened scar, and I will bet all that I am worth that if you turned up
that fellow's sleeve you would find it there."
"That is very important, sergeant. I will go and tell my young lady; she
is talking with her lawyers and Colonel Bulstrode at the other end of
the hall."
Hilda clapped her hands.
"What do you say now, Mr. Pettigrew? I was right, after all. Bring your
friend up, Roberts, and let us hear his story ourselves."
Sergeant Nichol was fetched, and repeated the story that he had told to
Roberts.
"Thank you very much, sergeant," the barrister said. "Please remain here
while we talk it over. What do you think of this, Mr. Pettigrew?"
"It would seem to explain the whole matter that has puzzled us so. I did
not tell you, because it was not in my opinion at all necessary to the
case, that Miss Covington has always maintained that the man was not
Simcoe, and so positive was she that her friend, Miss Purcell, went down
to Stowmarket to make inquiries. It was certainly believed by his
friends there that he was Simcoe, and this to my mind was quite
conclusive. But I am bound to say that it did not satisfy Miss
Covington."
"May I ask, Miss Covington, why you took up that opinion in the first
place?"
"Because I was convinced that he was not the sort of man who would have
risked his life for another. After Miss Purcell came back from
Stowmarket we found out that just before he called on my uncle he
advertised for relatives of the late John Simcoe, and that the
advertisement appeared not in the Suffolk papers only, but in the London
and provincial papers all over the country; and it was evident, if this
man was John Simcoe, he would not advertise all over England, instead of
going down to Stowmarket, where his family lived, and where he himself
had lived for years. He received a reply from an old lady, an aunt of
John Simcoe's, living there, went down and saluted her as his aunt, at
once offered to settle a pension of fifty pounds a year on her, and
after remaining for three days in her house, no doubt listening to her
gossip about all John Simcoe's friends, went and introduced himself to
them. There was probably some resemblance in height and figure, and an
absence of twenty years would have effected a change in his face, so
that, when it was found that his aunt unhesitatingly accepted him, the
people there had no doubt whatever that it was their old acquaintance.
Therefore, this in no way shook my belief that he was not the man.
"It turns out now, you see, that there was another man at Benares at the
time who was remarkably like him, and that this man was a scoundrel and
a thief. When he deserted no doubt he would take another name, and
having doubtless heard that John Simcoe was dead, and remembering the
remarks made as to his likeness to him, he was as likely to take that
name as any other, though probably not with any idea of making any
special use of it. When in England he may have heard General
Mathieson's name mentioned, and remembering that Simcoe had saved the
life of the General, may have thought that the name and the likeness
might enable him to personate the man. He first set about establishing
his identity by going down to Stowmarket, and after that it was easy. I
have thought it all over so many times that although it never struck me
that there might have been at Benares some man bearing a striking
resemblance to John Simcoe, all the rest is exactly as I had figured it
out to my mind. Now I will leave you, gentlemen, to decide what use you
will make of the discovery, while I go and tell my friends of it."
The seats allotted to the general public were empty, as a case of this
sort offered but slight attraction even to the loungers in the hall, but
a large number of barristers were present. It had been whispered about
that there were likely to be some unexpected developments in the case.
The counsel engaged on both sides were the leaders of the profession,
who could hardly have been expected to be retained in a mere case of a
formal application for an order for trustees to act upon a will.
"The facts of the case, my lord," the counsel who led for John Simcoe
commenced, "are simple, and we are at a loss to understand how the
trustees of the late General Mathieson can offer any opposition to our
obtaining the order asked for. Nothing can be more straightforward than
the facts. The late General Mathieson, early in March, 1852, made a
will, which was duly signed and witnessed, bequeathing, among other
legacies, the amount of ten thousand pounds to Mr. John Simcoe, as a
mark of his gratitude for his having saved him from a tiger some twenty
years before in India. The act was one of heroic bravery, and Mr. Simcoe
nearly lost his own life in saving that of the General."
He then related with dramatic power the incidents of the struggle.
"There is, then, no matter of surprise that this large legacy should
have been left to Mr. Simcoe by the General, who was a man of
considerable wealth. The bulk of the property was left to his grandson,
and in the event of his dying before coming of age it was to go to a
niece, a Miss Covington, to whom only a small legacy was left; she being
herself mistress of an estate and well provided for. Two months
afterwards the General, upon reflection, decided to enlarge his gift to
Mr. Simcoe, and he, therefore, in another will named him, in place of
Miss Covington, who was amply provided for, his heir in the event of his
grandson's death. I may say that the second will was not drawn up by the
solicitors who had framed the first will. Probably, as often happens,
the General preferred that the change he had effected should not be
known until after his death, even to his family solicitors. He,
therefore, went to a firm of equal respectability and standing, Messrs.
Halstead & James, who have made an affidavit that he interviewed them
personally on the matter, and gave them written instructions for drawing
up his will, and signed it in their presence.
"I may say that in all other respects, including the legacy of ten
thousand pounds, the wills were absolutely identical. The trustees,
after waiting until the last day permitted by law, have, to our client's
surprise, proved the first of these two wills, ignoring the second; on
what ground I am at a loss to understand. As my client is entitled to
ten thousand pounds under either will it might be thought that the
change would make little difference to him; but unhappily the
circumstances have entirely changed by the fact that the General's
grandson was lost or stolen on the day before his death, and in spite of
the most active efforts of the police, and the offer of large
rewards--my client, who was deeply affected by the loss of the child,
himself offering a thousand pounds for news of his whereabouts--nothing
was heard of him until two months after his disappearance, when his body
was found in the canal at Paddington, and after hearing evidence of
identification, and examining the clothes, which all parties agreed to
be those of the missing child, the jury returned a verdict that the body
was that of Walter Rivington, and that there was no proof of how he came
by his end.
"As the residence of General Mathieson was in Hyde Park Gardens, no
doubt the poor child strolled away from the care of a careless nurse,
came to the canal, and, walking near the bank, fell in and was drowned.
No one could have been more grieved than my client at this, and although
it practically put him into possession of a large property, he would, I
am sure, gladly forfeit a large portion of it rather than come into
possession of it in so melancholy a manner. I have not heard of the
slightest reason why the last will of General Mathieson should be put
aside. I believe that no question could arise as to his state of mind at
the time that it was made. It may be that a plea of undue influence may
be raised, but this, to those who knew the General, would appear absurd.
He was a man of active habits, and vigorous both in mind and body. Here
was no case of a man living in the house and influencing an old
gentleman approaching his dotage. They met only at clubs and at dinners;
and although the General was rightly and naturally attached to Simcoe,
he was certainly not a man to be influenced against his will. I beg,
therefore, to ask, my lord, that you will pronounce in favor of this
second will, and issue an order to the trustees to carry out its
provisions forthwith."
"But upon the face of your appeal to the court, Sir Henry, there is no
question as to the validity of the will you propound set up by the
trustees?"
"None, my lord. In fact, at the time the case was put down we were
ignorant that there would be any attempt on the part of the trustees to
dispute the second will, and that they should do so came upon us as a
surprise. However, at a consultation between my learned friend and
myself just before we came into court, it was agreed that, if your
lordship would permit it, we would take the two matters at once. One of
the trustees is a member of the firm who are and have been the family
lawyers of General Mathieson, and of his father before him, for a long
period of years. They are gentlemen of well-known honor, who are, I am
sure, as anxious as we are to obtain from your lordship a judicial
decision on which they can act."
"It is irregular," the judge said, "but as both parties seemed agreed
upon it, it will doubtless save much expense to the estate if the whole
matter can be settled at once. I will permit the whole matter to be
taken. Now, brother Herbert, we will hear you on the other side."
"I am sorry to say, my lord, that it will be impossible for me to
imitate my learned brother in the brevity with which he opened the case.
So far from the facts being extremely simple, they are, I may say, of a
very complicated nature. We own that we have no explanation to offer
with regard to the second will. It was strange, very strange, that
General Mathieson, a man of methodical habits, having just drawn up his
will, should go to another firm of solicitors and draw up a fresh one,
but the fact that the whole of the minor bequests are the same in the
two wills is certainly a very strong proof, as also is the fact that the
instructions for drafting the will were written by the General himself,
or, at any rate, by someone intimately acquainted with the contents of
that will, which we admit was difficult to believe could be the case, as
the will, from the time it was signed by the General, has not been out
of Messrs. Farmer & Pettigrew's hands until it was taken for probate the
other day.
"Now, my lord, I trust that you will allow me a certain amount of
license while I go into this somewhat singular story. Twenty-three years
ago, General Mathieson's life was saved in India by Mr. John Simcoe. Mr.
Simcoe himself was seriously wounded, and when he recovered somewhat he
was recommended by the surgeon who attended him to go down to Calcutta
at once and take a sea voyage. He did so, and embarked upon the ship
_Nepaul_, which was lost in a terrible gale in the Bay of Bengal a few
days later, with, as was supposed, all hands. Twenty years passed, and
then to the surprise, and I may say to the delight of the General, who
had much grieved over the loss of his preserver, Mr. Simcoe presented
himself. For a moment the General did not recognize him; but it was not
long before he became convinced of his identity, for he knew the
officers who had been at the station at the time, and was well up in the
gossip of the place, and the General at once hailed him as the man who
had saved his life, introduced him to many friends, got him put up at a
good club, and became, I may say, very fond of him. Mr. Simcoe brought
up a friend or two who had known him at Stowmarket, where he had an aunt
still living, and the result of all this was that the General requested
Messrs. Farmer & Pettigrew to draw up a new will bequeathing to John
Simcoe the sum of ten thousand pounds.
"Then came the singular episode of the second will. A fortnight later,
when at dinner at his club, the General was smitten with a strange kind
of fit, from which he recovered, but only lived for a few months, a
half-paralyzed invalid. He was attended during that time by Dr. Leeds--a
gentleman with a very high reputation, and now practicing in Harley
Street as a consulting physician. The General was brought up to town,
but broke down during the journey and died two days later.
"Now we come to the second strange fact in this strange case. A day
before his death his grandson, Walter Rivington, was missing. The
efforts of the police, aided by a number of private detectives, failed
to obtain any clew to the child until a body was found in the canal at
Paddington. That the body was dressed in some of the clothes worn by the
child when carried off was unquestionable; but the three persons who
knew Walter Rivington best, namely, Miss Covington, a friend of hers
named Miss Purcell, who had been all the summer assisting her to nurse
General Mathieson, and the child's own nurse, all declared that the body
was not that of the General's grandson. They were unable to adduce
anything in support of this belief beyond the fact that the hair of the
child found was short and to some extent bristly, whereas that of Walter
Rivington was long and silky. The jury, however, adopted the view of the
coroner that hair, however soft, when cut close to the skull will appear
more or less bristly, and gave a verdict to the effect that the body was
that of Walter Rivington. Miss Covington and her friends refused to
accept the verdict, and continued their search for the child.
"Without occupying your attention by going into details, my lord, I may
briefly say that a close watch was set on Mr. Simcoe, and it was found
that he was exceedingly intimate with a man of whom no one seemed to
know anything; and before I go further I will ask, my lord, that you
will give orders that Mr. Simcoe shall not leave the court until I have
finished."
"You are not asking without strong reason, I trust, brother Herbert?"
"Certainly not, my lord."
The order was, therefore, given. Simcoe grew very white in the face, but
otherwise maintained an air of stolid indifference.
"I will now go back for a moment, my lord. General Mathieson was
attended by three of the leading physicians in London at the time of his
seizure. The symptoms were so peculiar that in all their experience they
had not met a similar case. Dr. Leeds, however, differed from them, but
being their junior could not press his opinion; but he told them that
his opinion was that the fit was due to the administration of some drug
unknown to the British Pharmacopoeia, as the effects were precisely
similar to those in cases that he had read of in Africa and among other
savage people, where a poison of this kind was used by the native fetich
men or wizards. That opinion was confirmed rather than diminished by the
subsequent progress of the malady and the final death of his patient.
The one man who could benefit by the General's death was sitting next to
him at dinner at the time of his seizure, and that man, according to
his own statement, had been for many years knocking about among the
savages of the South Sea Islands and the islands of the Malay
Archipelago.
"I do not accuse John Simcoe of this crime, but I need hardly say that
the mere possibility of such a thing heightened the strong feeling
entertained by Miss Covington that Simcoe was the author of the
abduction of Walter Rivington. She and her devoted friend, Miss Purcell,
pursued their investigations with unflagging energy. They suspected that
the man who was very intimate with Simcoe had acted as his agent in the
matter, and a casual remark which was overheard in a singular manner,
which will be explained when the case goes into another court, that this
man was going to Tilbury, gave them a clew. Then, in a manner which many
persons might find it very hard to believe, Miss Covington learned from
a conversation between the two men, when together in a box at Her
Majesty's Theater, that the lad was in charge of a bargeman living near
the little village of Pitsea, in Essex. From that place, my lord, he was
brought last week, and Miss Covington will produce him in court, if your
lordship wishes to see him. Thus, then, it is immaterial to us whether
your lordship pronounces for the first or second will.
"But, my lord, I have not finished my story. Under neither of the wills
does that man take a farthing. The money was left to John Simcoe; and
John Simcoe was drowned over twenty years ago. The man standing over
there is one William Sanderson, a sergeant on the paymaster's staff at
Benares when the real John Simcoe was there. There happened to be a
resemblance between this man and him, so strong that it was generally
remarked upon by his comrades. This man Sanderson deserted soon after
Simcoe was drowned, taking with him three hundred pounds of the
paymaster's money. There was a sharp hue and cry after him, but he
managed to make his escape. All this is a certainty, but we may assume
without much difficulty that the man changed his name as soon as he got
to Calcutta, and nothing was more likely than that he should take the
name of John Simcoe, whom he had been told that he so strongly
resembled.
"For twenty years we hear nothing further of William Sanderson, nor do
we hear when he returned to London. Probably he, in some way or other,
came across the name of General Mathieson, and remembering what John
Simcoe had done for the General, he, on the strength of his personal
likeness, and the fact that he had, for twenty years, gone by that name,
determined to introduce himself to him, with the result you know. He was
clever enough to know that he must answer questions as to his history
before he left England, and it was desirable to obtain witnesses who
would, if necessary, certify to him. But he knew nothing of Simcoe's
birthplace or history; so he inserted advertisements in a great number
of London and provincial newspapers, saying that the relations of the
John Simcoe who was supposed to have been drowned in the Bay of Bengal
in the year 1832 would hear of something to their advantage at the
address given. A maiden aunt, living at Stowmarket, did reply. He went
down there at once, rushed into her arms and called her aunt, and told
her that it was his intention to make her comfortable for life by
allowing her fifty pounds per annum. He stayed with her for three days,
and during that time obtained from her gossip full details of his
boyhood and youth, his friends and their occupation, and he then went
out and called upon John Simcoe's old companions, all of whom took him
on his own word and his knowledge of the past and his recognition by his
aunt.
"So things might have remained. This man, after undergoing what
punishment might be awarded to him for his abduction of Walter
Rivington, could have claimed the ten thousand pounds left him by
General Mathieson, had it not been that, by what I cannot but consider a
dispensation of Providence, an old comrade of his, Staff-Sergeant
Nichol, was attracted to the hall this morning by seeing the name of
Simcoe and that of General Mathieson coupled in the cause list. This
man was in the hall talking to his professional advisers, and Nichol,
walking close to him, to see if he could recognize the man whom he had
last seen carried wounded into Benares, at once recognized in the
supposed John Simcoe the deserter and thief, Sergeant Sanderson. He
passed him two or three times, to assure himself that he was not
mistaken. Happily the deserter had a mark that was ineffaceable; he had,
as a recruit, let off his rifle, and the ball had passed through the
fleshy part of the forearm, leaving there, as Sergeant Nichol has
informed me, an ineffaceable scar, blackened by powder. If this man is
not Sergeant Sanderson, and is the long-lost John Simcoe, he has but to
pull up the sleeve of his left arm and show that it is without scar."
The man did not move; he was half stunned by the sudden and terrible
exposure of the whole of his plans. As he did not rise the counsel said:
"My lord, I must ask that you give an order for the arrest of this man,
William Sanderson, as a deserter and a thief; also upon the charge of
conspiring, with others, the abduction of Walter Rivington."
"Certainly, brother Herbert," the judge said, as he saw that the accused
made no motion to answer the challenge of the counsel. "Tipstaff, take
that man into custody on the charge of aiding in the abduction of Walter
Rivington. As to the other charge, I shall communicate with the
authorities of the India Office, and leave it to them to prosecute if
they choose to do so. After this lapse of years they may not think it
worth while to do so, especially as the man is in custody on a still
graver charge."
The tipstaff moved toward the man, who roused himself with a great
effort, snatched a small glass ball from a pocket inside his waistcoat,
thrust it between his teeth, and bit it into fragments, and, as the
officer laid his hand upon him, fell down in a fit. Dr. Leeds, who had
come in just as the trial began, rose to his feet.
"I am a doctor, my lord. My name is Leeds, and the opinion I held of
the cause of General Mathieson's death is now proved to be correct. The
symptoms of this fit are precisely similar to those of General
Mathieson's seizure, and this man has taken some of the very poison with
which he murdered the General."
For a minute Sanderson struggled in violent convulsions, then, as Dr.
Leeds bent over him, his head fell back suddenly. Dr. Leeds felt his
pulse and then rose to his feet.
"My lord," he said, "the case is finally closed. He has gone to a higher
judgment seat."