ENTER MR. BROOKES.
When Lord Spunyarn and Lucius entered Mrs. Haggard's room they found her
stretched upon a sofa, and to the inexperienced eye she presented very
much her ordinary appearance; but as the young fellow, who had been
nursed and tended by the invalid when he was a helpless friendless
child, gazed upon the woman who had been a mother to him, he saw that
one corner of the mouth was slightly drawn. The old lord was seated by
her side; her left hand was clasped in his; the marks of recent tears
were on the face of the old nobleman, and he roused himself with an
effort to welcome his heir.
"Mother," said the young fellow, as he took her other hand, "poor
mother!" And even the long-headed youth felt a pang, as he gazed upon
the wreck before him.
An answering smile illumined the suffering face as she heard the
greeting.
Then there was a pause of some length; and then the old man made his
moan, for the selfishness of age is as natural as the selfishness of
childhood. This is what the possessor of countless wealth, and of all
the heart could desire to obtain, said in his cracked querulous old
voice:
"All gone from me, wife and son, and nephews, all taken; and now she is
stricken down, the joy of my dotage, the comfort of my old age. It's
very hard to bear," groaned the old man, and the hollow old eyes became
moist again. But there was an answering pressure from the slender hand
which he held between his wrinkled fingers, and the old man's face was
lighted up once more by a happy smile. "You won't leave me, Georgie," he
continued, "for I can't spare you, my dear, I can't spare you." Again
there came the same answering pressure. But she spoke no word; heaven
had set the seal of silence on her lips; they moved, those pale lips,
but no sound came from them; and then the sufferer made an impatient
gesture. As she did so young George Haggard entered the room; his eyes
were red with weeping and he trod daintily upon the carpet, as a man
would do who feared to disturb a sleeping child. The sick woman smiled
as he came to his brother's side and affectionately placed his hand upon
Lucius Haggard's shoulder; her eyes sought those of Lord Spunyarn, dwelt
upon his an instant, and then the lids closed upon the yet lovely orbs,
and still smiling, like a tired child, Mrs. Haggard sank into a peaceful
sleep.
No word was spoken by those around the couch; they sat silent, fearing
to disturb her slumber. As Lucius Haggard gazed upon the sweet sleeping
face, he was racked by torturing doubt. How would it all end? Would she
recover her bodily health again? The mind was evidently still uninjured.
_Would she ever speak again?_ That was the important question to Lucius
Haggard. The papers gone and the mouth of this one witness closed, he
felt himself comparatively safe; still in the eyes of the law and of the
world his father's lawful heir. But should she speak again, she might
communicate the secret of his shame. Without her evidence all that Lord
Spunyarn might say could but be mere surmise, a simple _ex parte_
statement.
One by one they left her sleeping, the old earl leaning heavily on the
arm of Haggard's eldest son. And then they separated; the old lord to
his slumbers and his dreams and the society of the faithful Wolff, the
two young fellows to the park, to wander up and down the great avenue
side by side, and talk with bated breath over their fresh misfortune,
the affliction that had befallen their mother; while Lord Spunyarn
returned to the examination of the mass of papers lying on the dead
Reginald Haggard's table, and to wait with impatience the arrival of the
family solicitor.
"If there is a thing in this world that I hate," said old Mr. Brookes to
his partner, as he sat in his cosy private room in Lincoln's Inn Fields
that morning, "it's this modern system of telegrams; they're almost as
bad as a doctor's night-bell. You have to go, whether you like it or
not. Here's probably some simple matter of common law. Why on earth
can't he write? Not a bit of it, he simply wires me, and I have to go,"
and he handed a telegram across the table:
"Walls End Castle.
"Please come down at once. Your presence urgently needed.
"SPUNYARN."
"Why can't they write?"
That afternoon saw old Mr. Brookes at the Castle. He dined _tête-à-tête_
with Lord Spunyarn, and did full justice to the cook's efforts. Lawyers
are always epicures, and Mr. Brookes condescended to praise the _suprême
de volaille_ of the Walls End _chef_. After dinner they drew their
chairs to the fire, and then Lord Spunyarn opened his business.
"I'm glad you have come, Brookes; I'm very glad you've come."
"Something very serious, I suppose; something so urgent, Lord Spunyarn,
that you couldn't have written me a letter and got my advice by the next
post," and Mr. Brookes chuckled.
"Yes, Mr. Brookes, it was something so serious that I had to see you in
person. I fear there is a screw loose in the succession."
"Gad, sir, you don't mean that Hetton _was_ married after all?"
"No, it's not that. Since my poor friend Haggard's death, Mr. Brookes,
I have been placed in a very difficult position. On his death-bed
Haggard desired me to place a box containing letters and certain
reminiscences of a bygone intrigue in his wife's hands. There is nothing
very extraordinary in that you will say; the man was sorry for his
youthful error, and sought forgiveness. Quite so, but that was not the
end of the matter." Spunyarn described to the old lawyer the contents of
the box, the miniature, the mask, the earrings, and the packet of
letters. "Mr. Brookes," he continued, "as my friend's executor it was
perhaps my duty to have gone through those letters, but they were the
love-letters of a dead woman to my own dead friend, and I myself had at
one time, long long ago, been seriously attached to the lady. I hadn't
the heart to go through those letters. I see now, that I neglected or
avoided what was a very painful duty. I as my friend's executor should
have cared for those letters, verified them, and put them in a place of
safety. My only excuse is that my dying friend's words to me were, 'Hand
the red morocco box in my safe to my wife, the contents are important;
remember my affair at Rome and you will understand them; Georgie must do
as she pleases in the matter.' And then he died. I take it, Mr. Brookes,
that it was my duty to carry out my dying friend's injunctions. I did
carry out those injunctions to the letter, and then I became aware of an
astounding thing. Young Lucius Haggard is not the heir to the Pit Town
title, for he is illegitimate; nay, more than that, he is not Mrs.
Haggard's son at all."
The lawyer sprang from his chair. "Do you mean to assert, Lord Spunyarn,
that he was substituted by the supposed parents? On the face of it, Lord
Spunyarn, it's an improbable story, almost an impossible story."
"Let me explain, Mr. Brookes. Lucius Haggard is really the son of Mrs.
Haggard's dearest friend. When, in a moment of desperate fear and
agitation, in her love for her friend she consented to cover that
friend's terrible position--she was an inexperienced girl, Mr.
Brookes--by personating the child's mother, she had not the slightest
idea of the terrible complications that would ensue, and that the
child's father was her own husband; that latter fact she never knew
until my poor friend, suddenly stricken down, with his dying breath
hinted at the terrible secret, and asked for her forgiveness."
The lawyer moved uneasily in his chair, but did not attempt to interrupt
Lord Spunyarn's explanation.
"I acknowledge to you, Mr. Brookes," he continued, "that I committed an
error; I should have done at once what I am doing now, and taken you
into our confidence. But the good name of a woman was at stake, the
proofs were in our possession, there was no doubt as to the
illegitimacy of Lucius Haggard, and I trusted in his honour and to the
affection he bore to the woman who had been a mother to him, to enable
us to tide over the matter without disclosing it to a living soul, at
least during Lord Pit Town's lifetime."
"And you were disappointed, Lord Spunyarn; you forgot the magnitude of
the stake, when you deliberately placed the honour of a noble family,
the succession to a title and immense estates, in the hands of an
interloper."
"No, Mr. Brookes. At first Lucius Haggard refused to believe for an
instant what would naturally seem a most improbable story. A terrible
scene of violence ensued, but let me do young Lucius justice: he
speedily came to his senses; his conduct, Mr. Brookes, was all that one
could expect from a man of the very highest honour. He placed himself
unreservedly in my hands."
"Thank God for that," said the lawyer, as he wiped, his forehead with
his big silk handkerchief, "thank God for that, for it simplifies
matters very considerably. And now I suppose you want me to break the
matter to the old lord. We've had a very narrow escape, Lord Spunyarn."
"I fear we're not out of the wood yet," said Spunyarn meditatively.
"What! further complications?"
"Unfortunately, yes. Mrs. Haggard is suffering from a stroke of
paralysis and is speechless."
"Well, there is still your evidence and the contents of the box;
besides, you say that Lucius Haggard will not fail you."
"Mr. Brookes, the worst yet remains to tell; _the contents of the box
have disappeared_."
Again the lawyer rose to his feet deeply agitated. "Lord Spunyarn," said
he solemnly, "you have much to answer for. No doubt Lucius Haggard has
possessed himself of the evidence the box contained and has destroyed
it. Just think for an instant of the immense temptation to him to do so.
There may be, there will be, a gigantic law-suit that may never end,
while the whole of the vast property may be frittered away, for in a
matter such as this, remember, all costs come out of the estate. Lord
Spunyarn, what you tell me is not a misfortune, it is an appalling
calamity, and Lucius Haggard alone has the key of the situation. It's
not a time for half measures, Lord Spunyarn; we must attempt to obtain
from him the contents of the box, even if we have to employ violence."
"Calm yourself, Mr. Brookes," said Lord Spunyarn, "Lucius Haggard at
least is wholly guiltless in the matter. He was unaware even of the
existence of the box and its contents until he saw it in Mrs. Haggard's
presence. We revealed to him the story, and when we opened the box, that
he might see the proofs as he surely had a right to do, it was empty."
The lawyer stared at Lord Spunyarn. "And what is your lordship's
opinion," he said, "in the matter? Let me understand you exactly, Lord
Spunyarn. You handed the box and its contents to Mrs. Haggard. She can
testify to that?"
"Mr. Brookes, she is speechless."
"If we had only got the letters you speak of, with affidavits in proper
form from yourself and the wife of the deceased man, and, _Lucius
Haggard being a consenting party_, by the expenditure of a good deal of
money, we might perhaps tide the matter over; as it is, Lord Spunyarn,
there is no evidence, absolutely no evidence. All you have to tell, is
mere hearsay and conjecture; and it would doubtless be successfully set
up that, accepting your version of the communication made to you by
Reginald Haggard on his death-bed, unsupported as it is by a tittle of
evidence, it was but the incoherent raving of a dying man. A Committee
of Privilege of the House of Lords would not accept mere _ex parte_
statements in so serious a matter; there would have to be absolute
proof, legal proof, mind you, proof that would satisfy the law officers
of the Crown. Young Lucius Haggard, even if he were so Quixotic as to
wish to do so, could not sign away an earldom by a mere stroke of the
pen, neither could he strip himself of the entailed estates. The
extraordinary events, that you say took place many years ago, would have
to be proved; and who is to prove them? As to the parties themselves,
two of them are dead, while the third unfortunately is unable to give
evidence one way or the other. If I communicate this dreadful thing to
my aged client, it may actually kill him. What is your own opinion, Lord
Spunyarn? Do you suppose that in a temporary aberration of mind, to take
a most favourable view of it, Mrs. Haggard, with a woman's natural fear
of exposure, destroyed or secreted the contents of the box? Reginald
Haggard we know devised all his property to his son George, which was
the least he could do after stripping him of everything he had the right
to inherit (I am taking your strange story for gospel for a moment). Can
we think that Mrs. Haggard (still supposing the story to be true) felt
herself bound to be her husband's accomplice in robbing her own son of
his just rights, and so become the principal actor in an abominable
conspiracy? You have pieced the thing together in your own mind, and the
whole story fits charmingly, but it doesn't admit of proof in any way;
it's little better than an improbable and romantic tale as it stands
now, without a shadow of documentary or oral evidence to give it even
the semblance of truth."
Lord Spunyarn interrupted the lawyer impatiently.
"You don't mean to say that you doubt the various details that I have
given you, Mr. Brookes?"
"I doubt nothing, Lord Spunyarn," replied the lawyer, "I am merely
giving you the legal view. It will be my duty, I fear there is no escape
from it, to communicate the whole matter to Lord Pit Town, and to take
his instructions; of course by those instructions I shall be guided. He
may direct me to attempt to collect evidence in the matter, for I don't
suppose that he would wish an illegitimate child of his heir to inherit
his title and estates. There is another view, Lord Spunyarn, a view that
would commend itself to the minds of some men: 'Let sleeping dogs lie'
is a good proverb. If Lucius Haggard is, as you assert, base-born, then
it is for George Haggard to prove his title; and the real struggle
between the two young men need only commence when my old friend is laid
in his grave. Of one thing I am quite certain, Lord Spunyarn; public
scandal and litigation, must, if possible, be avoided, and I am sure
that my client will be at one with me in this."
Spunyarn nodded.
"It is, of course, possible," continued the lawyer, "that some third
person may have possessed himself of the contents of the box from
mercenary motives."
"And what is your own impression, Mr. Brookes?"
"Speaking to you, Lord Spunyarn, as Reginald Haggard's executor and the
guardian of his infant sons, one of whom is undoubtedly the heir to the
Pit Town title, speaking as a man unversed in the ways of women, and
supposing that Lucius Haggard was unaware of the alleged contents of the
box, I am inclined to suspect that Mrs. Haggard holds the key to the
mystery."
"You mean that she has secreted or destroyed what the box contained?"
The lawyer nodded.
"Mr. Brookes, my poor friend's wife would never commit a dishonourable
act."
"A woman's ideas of honour, Lord Spunyarn, are peculiar. With them, as
a rule, particularly with the best of them, sentiment often takes the
place of what men call honour. You yourself have told me that this
unhappy lady considered herself bound by an oath to Lucius's mother,
accepting for the moment the theory that she herself is not his mother.
If she would keep the secret for twenty years, Lord Spunyarn, if there
was a secret, she may carry it with her to her grave, repenting the
sudden confidence that you state she made to you. Even supposing that
the power of speech should return to her, she may decline to confirm
upon oath the statement made to you. The very fact of her suffering from
paralysis may be used by Lucius Haggard and his advisers to set up a
theory that she is of unsound mind; and a very natural theory, too, I
take it," said the lawyer with a sigh. "Lucius Haggard," he continued,
"a minor, under the influence which you and Mrs. Haggard would
naturally exert upon him, may be a very different person to deal with
from Lucius Haggard acting under professional advice, and only biassed
by his own interests. I fear, should the matter ever come before the
public, that very strong reflections indeed will be made upon you and
Mrs. Haggard. _Beati possidentes._ Supposing that Lord Pit Town should
elect to either ignore the matter altogether, or simply instruct me to
seek for further evidence; in a very short time indeed, for his lordship
is a very old man, Lucius Haggard will come into the title and estates
as a matter of course; it will then be for George to attempt to prove
his right. We must be careful, Lord Spunyarn, in attempting to set
ourselves up as an amateur court of law, that we do not ruin the
fortunes of a great house by leaving it absolutely without an heir; for
suppose young George Haggard to die, and supposing for an instant that
the story you have told me could ever be proved, that is what would
happen. Why, the very title would cease to exist, and the estates would
possibly revert to the Crown. Are you and I, Lord Spunyarn, justified in
setting the match to a train which might extinguish an ancient peerage?
If I speak to you as a man of the world, and give you my honest opinion,
I do not hesitate to say that the best thing that can happen is, that
these papers, whatever they contain, may never come to light."
"You would not go as far as to suggest, Mr. Brookes, that should we
discover the papers we are to destroy them?"
"No, Lord Spunyarn. God forbid! I don't go as far as that. You, as your
friend's executor, through a strange carelessness, for I can call it no
less, have let the contents of the box out of your possession; of course
it is for you to do your utmost to regain them. If you ever succeed in
doing so, it seems to me that young George Haggard will be called upon
to elect his own course. I don't think there is any use in prolonging
this interview," he continued; "I must see his lordship, of course, in
the morning; and should he consent, and I trust to his strong common
sense that he will do so, we shall be able to advise with you in the
matter. He may, however, object to that, in which case you will of
course obtain professional assistance and take your own course."
Spunyarn felt that the man who addressed him had ceased to be Mr.
Brookes, the old friend of the family, and that he had relapsed into his
real position of Lord Pit Town's legal adviser.
The two men shook hands; and it is not to be wondered at if neither
slept very well that night, both having abundant food for reflection.