WHICH TELLS OF THE CONTENTS OF THE NOTE BOOK
Louisa sat beside the fire and read. The notes were written in Sir
Thomas's clear caligraphy, in short, jerky sentences, just as the sick
man had spoken them, usually in reply to questions put to him.
As Louisa read on, she could almost hear Lord Radclyffe's whispered
words, whilst she herself sang Tosti's melancholy song: "Good-bye!"
"I was not altogether ignorant of my brother Arthur's marriage over in
Martinique, but he had always given me to understand that the marriage
was not a strictly legal one, and that his son Philip had no right
whatever to claim any possible succession to our family title and
estates. Even on his deathbed Arthur assured me of this, and said to
me most emphatically 'Luke is your heir! My son Philip has no legal
claim!'
"I never made the slightest effort to communicate with Arthur's widow
or with his child, for Arthur had assured me that they were well
provided for and quite happy amongst their own kindred. After the
catastrophe of St. Pierre I completely lost sight of them.
"Then came a letter addressed to me from St. Vincent, the first
inkling which I had that not only did Arthur's son know of his
father's position in life, but that he had full and justifiable
reasons for believing that he himself was heir presumptive to the
family title and estates which would have been his father's, had the
latter outlived the present holder.
"This letter was followed by several others about which neither Luke
nor Mr. Warren knew anything, for I told them nothing. At last there
came one from Brussels. By this time I had searched carefully through
some letters which my brother Arthur had desired that I should destroy
after his death, but which I had always kept by me, meaning one day to
comply with his wish.
"I had more than a suspicion then that my brother's marriage was a
perfectly legal one, and that his son was the only true
heir-presumptive to the title and estates which I had always fondly
thought could only devolve upon Luke. I went over to Brussels
determined to see this Philip before he set foot in England. The
thought that he would supersede Luke was more than I could bear.
"I arrived in Brussels early one morning, having crossed over in the
night. At once I drove to the mean hotel where he was lodging. He was
sharing a room with a man with whom he had picked up a casual
acquaintanceship on the sea voyage between the West Indies and
Antwerp. The two men had come over together in the Belgian boat. They
looked a pair of young blackguards, but it did not take me very long
to be convinced that for some reason best known to himself my brother
Arthur had deceived me and that his son Philip was indeed the
legitimate and rightful heir to the title which I hold. The papers
were authentic and undisputable. This much I knew and that Luke, whom
I loved best in all the world, more than any father has ever loved
his son, would never be Earl of Radclyffe so long as Philip de
Mountford lived.
"Men will say that I am an abandoned criminal, and, indeed, it may be
so. May God forgive me hereafter, for I killed my brother's son. I
pretended to rejoice at his homecoming, and in half an hour had gained
his confidence. In the afternoon we went out together and after a
short walk we picked up a taxicab. Philip gave the driver the address
of a restaurant at which I had asked him to dine with me. I kept
carefully in the shadow, so that the man shouldn't see me. Then on the
way in the cab, I killed him. When his head was turned away from me, I
plunged an old Italian stiletto which I had carried about with me,
ever since I had had letters from Philip, straight into his neck.
"He died instantly without a groan, and I was sick to death, but I
managed to sit quietly beside him until the cab pulled up: then I
jumped out and told the chauffeur to drive my friend on to some remote
place on the boulevards.
"I watched the cab until it was out of sight, then I hailed another,
and drove straight to the Gard du Nord, and crossed back to England
that night. I threw the stiletto overboard into the sea. I had spent
twelve hours in Brussels, and I had killed Philip de Mountford, and
made sure that Luke would be Earl of Radclyffe after me.
"It was not likely that in their search for the missing criminal who
had stabbed an unknown stranger in a cab, the Belgian police would
suspect an English peer. The mystery of that crime has remained
impenetrable, because nothing was ever known of the stranger who was
murdered. At the mean hotel where he lodged no one knew anything
about him. Only one person knew and he was silent for purposes of his
own.
"Before the police searched the unknown stranger's room, the room
which he shared with the chance friend whom he had picked up on the
Belgian boat, the latter already had found and concealed the papers
which would have revealed the identity of the murdered man, if not
that of his murderer.
"I, at home in England, wondered how it was that the Belgian police
had never discovered that the murdered man was named Philip de
Mountford and that he claimed to be the heir to the earldom of
Radclyffe. I expected paragraphs in the paper, some unpleasantness
even, but none came.
"I could not understand it, for I had forgotten the existence of the
chance friend.
"And then one day last April I understood. Once more I had letters
from abroad, from a man who claimed to be my brother's son. At first I
thought the whole thing a silly imposture, until the day when a man
confronted me in my own house, armed with every proof that I had
killed Philip de Mountford in Brussels. He had the latter's passports,
his birth and marriage certificates, his letters of identification,
all, all the papers that he had filched from among the dead man's
things, and which he now flaunted before me, daring me to prove him an
impostor. 'If I am not Philip de Mountford,' he said to me, 'then
where is Philip de Mountford?' And from that hour, I was as wax in his
hands. He held me and he knew it. I might have proved him an impostor,
and he could prove me a murderer.
"Heaven alone knows how I did not lose my reason then. I floundered in
a sea of wild conjectures, wild projects, wild hopes of escape. But
my tyrant held me, and I dared not rebel.
"And once more I was obsessed with the awful certitude that Luke would
never be Earl of Radclyffe after me, while this man lived.
"He had so taken upon himself the personality of Philip, the evidences
which went to prove his identity with the late Arthur de Mountford's
son were so strangely circumstantial, that, short of my proclaiming
loudly that I had killed my brother's son with my own hand, nothing
could prevent the impostor from succeeding in filching Luke's
inheritance.
"And even if I had confessed then, it seemed to me that this man would
still succeed in proving that I had murdered an unknown stranger--a
chance friend, who was an English bricklayer's son--and that he and he
only was Philip de Mountford, the late Arthur's son.
"When did I first dream of killing him, as I killed the other? I could
not tell you that. But it was some time ago, and I watched my
opportunity with patience and perseverance. Then at last the
opportunity came, following on terrible provocation. That dark, foggy
November night that you all remember so well! I was to meet my tyrant
at the Veterans' Club at nine o'clock. I drove up there and as I
stepped out of the cab I came face to face with Luke. Something in the
boy's manner told me what had happened. He didn't tell me, but I
guessed. The two men had quarrelled and Luke had had to endure the
other's arrogance.
"The news upset me. I felt faint and choked with the fog. Luke didn't
like to leave me, and seeing how I tottered he gave me his stick to
lean upon. We walked together for a little while up and down, and I
felt stronger and better. I begged Luke to leave me. Presently, as the
impostor came out at the club door, Luke obeyed at last, and said
'good night' to me.
"Paul Baker--I knew that that was his name--wanted me to drive
straight back to Grosvenor Square, but asked me to drop him first near
the railings of Green Park. He often walked about there in the
evenings. It was a curious fad which he had. We called a cab, and he
told the driver where to pull up. When I was sitting next to him, I
realized that I had a stick in my hand. I really had forgotten that it
was Luke's. Whilst I toyed with it, I noticed that the top came out,
and that a sharp dagger was concealed inside the body of the stick.
"Paul Baker was looking out of the window at the fog, and inside the
cab it was very dark, so he did not know what I was doing. I killed
him, just as I had killed Arthur's son, with a dagger thrust through
the neck. This time I did not feel sick, because I hated this man so.
When the driver pulled up near Green Park I jumped out quite coolly
and told the man to take my friend to some distant address in
Kensington.
"I threw the stick away behind the railings in the park. I had
forgotten that the stick was Luke's: I knew that it was not mine, and
that therefore they could not trace it to me.
"I did not imagine for a moment that Luke could be accused of a crime
which he had not committed. I did not think that justice could be so
blind.
"All I wanted was to be rid of my tyrant, and that Luke's inheritance
should not be filched from him."