ONE PART OF THE TRUTH
It was indeed Maud Ellis who entered on the arm of Mr. Hale. She was
carefully dressed and, as usual, had made the best of her looks, such
as they were. But she appeared to be anxious--to be strung up to
fighting-pitch--after the manner of a woman who anticipated that she
was not going to get her own way without a battle. On her entrance,
she measured the lean lawyer with the eye of an antagonist, and then
sat down in the chair which he politely pushed forward. As to Walter
Hale, he looked much the same as he always did, cool, polished, and
composed. Of course, he was perfectly arrayed in Bond Street taste,
and his manners were as irreproachable as was his costume. If Miss
Ellis was nervous, Hale assuredly was not. To Jabez, he suggested a
bowie-knife--an odd comparison, but one which came unexpectedly into
the lawyer's unimaginative brain.
"You know, of course, Mr. Jabez," said Hale when seated, "what I have
come to see you about."
The solicitor, who had taken his usual chair before the table, nodded
and pointed to Hale's letter which lay on the blotting-paper before
him. "To produce the amethyst cross," said he gravely.
"And something more important than the cross. Allow me," Hale stood up
to give his words due effect, "to present to you, Miss Katherine
Morse----"
"Oh," interrupted Jabez drily, "I understood from you that she died in
your Wimbledon house years ago."
"You are thinking of my mother," put in Maud boldly. "She, indeed, is
dead; but I am her child and am called after her."
"Even to the name of Morse?"
"Later," said Hale, with dignity, "I can give you the married name of
this young lady's mother. Meanwhile, the cross is----"
"Is here," said Maud, and opening a little bag which was swinging on
her wrist, she extracted therefrom a red morocco case and handed it to
Jabez.
He opened it gravely and beheld the long-lost ornament. "It was my
dear mother's," added Miss Ellis with feigned pathos, as though the
sight was too much for her tender heart. "My grandfather gave it to
her, and----"
"And your mother gave it to you," ended Jabez, seeing with his usual
keen gaze that her eyes were dry behind the handkerchief she was
holding to them.
"No," she replied, unexpectedly and sadly. "I never set eyes upon it
until Mr. Hale saw me a few days ago."
"Permit me to explain," said Hale, as watchful as a cat. "As I told
you, Miss Morse----"
"Still no married name," muttered the solicitor ironically.
"That will be told later," remarked Hale, provokingly self-possessed.
"I have first to tell my story."
"Go on," Jabez stretched his legs and put his hands in his pockets,
"it is sure to be interesting."
"I hope so," rejoined Hale, making a sign to Maud that she should not
talk, "and already you know much of it."
"Let me see. Yes, I remember. You told me at Rose Cottage, in the
presence of Mrs. Walker, that Miss Morse died at your Wimbledon house
in the arms of your wife. She gave the cross to your wife, who
afterwards gave it to the nurse, Bridget Burke. She in her turn gave
it to your daughter Lesbia, who presented it to young Walker from whom
it was stolen. Am I right?"
"Perfectly," said Hale gravely. "So you can see how Miss Morse here,
never set eyes on it until I brought it to her."
"And how did you become possessed of it?"
"I shall explain that, when you have heard Miss Morse's story."
Maud put up her veil and wiped her lips. "I am only too anxious to
tell it," she declared eagerly, "and----"
Jabez cut her short. "I am sure you are, but before hearing it I
should like to remind Mr. Hale that he declared in my presence and in
the presence of Mrs. Walker that there was no child."
"Quite so," said Hale promptly. "I am not bound to tell you anything I
desire to keep silent."
"I think you will have to do so, if you wish this young lady to get
fifty thousand pounds," said Jabez coolly.
"Of course: that is why I am here. But I refer to the interview at my
Marlow cottage. Then, I was not bound to speak. I speak now. There was
not any child with Miss Morse when she died at my Wimbledon house. But
with her last breath she told me where she had left the child--in a
poor neighbourhood and with a poor woman."
"Who was very good to me," said Maud, with tenderness very well acted.
"Dear Mrs. Tait, shall I ever forget her kindness?"
"Tait. Humph. So that's the name, is it?"
"The name of my foster-mother who brought me up. For years I have been
called Maud Ellis, but only when Mr. Hale came to see me bringing the
cross did I learn my true name and parentage."
"Why did your foster-mother call you Ellis?" asked Jabez.
"She passed me off to the world as her sister's child," said Maud
glibly.
"Why? I cannot see the need."
"Nor I," said Miss Ellis, with a swift glance at Hale. "But who knows
the human heart, Mr. Jabez?"
"No one so far as I know. But you were saying----"
"If you will permit me to tell my story I can make everything clear."
"I am quite certain that you can," said the lawyer, politely ironical.
"Go on."
"Mrs. Tait kept a lodging-house in Bloomsbury. My mother lived there
after leaving her husband--my father, who treated her very badly. I am
right," she added turning to Hale, "in saying this?"
"He behaved like a brute," said Hale emphatically, "but then he always
was a brute I am sorry to say."
"Dear me," murmured Jabez, "proceed, please."
"My mother left me with Mrs. Tait, as she had very little money and
went to seek out my father at Wimbledon one bitterly cold, snowy day.
He turned her from his door, and she nearly perished in the snow.
Fortunately this good man," Maud glanced pathetically at Hale, who
tried not to look too conscious, "took in the starving and chilled
woman. My mother died, and I was left to Mrs. Tait's kind care."
"What about the cross?" asked Jabez abruptly, stifling a yawn.
"I can explain that," interposed Hale quickly, "indeed I have already
done so. It was given to my wife and----"
"Of course: of course, I remember now. Well," Jabez turned to Maud,
"so you remained with Mrs. Tait."
"Until she died. Then her husband adopted me as his niece and with him
I lived, retaining my name of Maud Ellis."
"There was a husband then?"
"Yes," said Hale anxiously, "you may know of him, Mr. Michael Tait, the
stockbroking philanthropist."
"Oh," drawled the solicitor quietly, "the same man who lost his jewels
the other day."
"Yes," admitted Hale, quite ignorant of how much Jabez knew, "the
same. He was poor when Miss Morse--or Miss Ellis if you like--came to
his wife, and Mrs. Tait kept a boarding-house to help him. Then Tait
made a lucky speculation--he was a clerk in the City--and began to
grow rich. But before he could make a fortune Mrs. Tait died, and thus
never benefited."
"No, poor dear, and she was so very kind," said Maud sweetly,
"however, when my uncle grew rich----"
"Your uncle?" queried Jabez.
Maud coloured to the roots of her sandy hair. "I have fallen into the
habit of calling my friend Mr. Tait my uncle. And, indeed, until the
other day I almost thought that he was my uncle until I knew the
truth. But as I was saying, Mr. Jabez, my uncle--for I still call Mr.
Tait so--placed a magnificent tombstone over her remains when he grew
rich. That is my story."
"A very interesting one," said Jabez politely. "Then I take it that
you are the young lady entitled to fifty thousand pounds."
"I am. I understood that when I came and presented that cross," Maud
pointed to the ornament on the table, "that the money would be given
to me."
"You certainly said as much to me, Jabez," chimed in Hale anxiously.
"Quite right. The cross," Jabez waved his hand, "was only a little
attempt of mine to introduce romance into the dry details of the law.
Of course it is a means of identification, but it will be necessary
for Miss Ellis to produce her certificate of birth, her baptismal
certificate and----"
Hale bit his finger with vexation. "I anticipated that objection," he
interrupted in hard tones, "and I knew you would make it."
"In the interest of Mrs. Walker I must make it."
"Yes! yes. But the fact is, that only Mrs. Tait, besides the mother,
knew where the certificate of birth and that of baptism were to be
found. They are both dead, as you have heard, so----"
"So," ended Jabez rising to stand before the fireplace, "so there will
be no chance of this young lady getting the money."
"Don't you believe my story?" demanded Maud angrily.
"Oh yes. One has only to look into your face, my dear madam, to
be certain that you speak as you believe. But the law is not so
tender-hearted as I am. The law requires proofs."
"The amethyst cross----"
"Is one proof, but others are required. Then, you see, the cross was
stolen and has not been in your possession all these years. It is not
a very strong proof of your identity."
"I can make an affidavit," said Hale sharply, "swearing that the
mother me told where the child was to be found."
"Quite so, and doubtless Mr. Tait--then in the Bloomsbury
lodging-house kept by his wife--can make another affidavit showing how
the mother left the child in his wife's charge."
"Of course," assented Hale readily. "Tait will do anything I ask him."
"And my uncle," said Maud, "for I must call him uncle, will only be
too glad to see me come into my kingdom."
"Oh, I am certain of that," said Jabez, trimming his nails rapidly
with a little knife, "and to show your gratitude, you will doubtless
divide the money with him."
"Oh no. My uncle is too rich to need help," said Maud virtuously.
Jabez shut the knife and restored it to his pocket. "So he made enough
by the double deal of the jewels and the insurance fraud to tide over
the financial crisis which threatened him," he said deliberately.
Maud turned pale and uttered an exclamation. "I don't understand."
"Do you, Mr. Hale?" asked Jabez.
"No," said the man coldly, "I know nothing of Tait's business."
"Rubbish! rubbish! See here, Hale, and you, young woman, before you
came here to try your games on me, you should have made certain that I
knew nothing of your doings. As it is, from Mrs. Walker, from her son,
and from various other people, I know all that has taken place in
connection with that cross from the time Miss Lesbia Hale gave it to
her lover, and----"
"You insult Miss Morse," interrupted Hale furiously.
"Miss Maud Ellis you mean," sneered the lawyer, "and--no you don't,"
he stretched out his long arm, and snatched the cross away, before
Hale could lay a finger on it. "That belongs to Mrs. Walker's niece."
"I am Mrs. Walker's niece," panted Maud, standing up with a red and
furious face. Since Jabez appeared to know so much, she saw very well
that the plotting of herself and Hale had come to an untimely end.
Nevertheless, like a woman, she persisted in fighting, even when the
game had been irretrievably lost. "She will acknowledge me."
The lawyer slipped the case containing the cross into the pocket of
his coat and faced round. "If Mrs. Walker will acknowledge you as her
niece," he declared, "I will give you the money."
"What's the use of talking in this way?" cried Hale angrily. "You know
well enough that Mrs. Walker wants the money for herself. She will
certainly not help this poor girl to gain her rights."
"Girl," echoed Jabez cruelly, and with his eyes on Maud's plain face,
which showed elderly lines. "I am no judge of a lady's age, but----"
"Brute! brute," cried Miss Ellis, making for the door. "Hale, come
away, I am not going to stand here and be insulted."
"I am coming," said Hale sullenly: then turning to the lawyer: "as to
these veiled accusations you bring against me----"
"Oh, you want me to speak clearer. Very well, then. You, Mr. Hale, and
you, Miss Maud Ellis, belong to a gang of clever thieves. The police
have been trying to break up the gang for years: but hitherto have not
succeeded. Now they will lay hands on one and all."
"Oh!" gasped Maud, trembling. "What nonsense you talk."
"The police do not think so. You and Hale had better make yourselves
scarce, for one of your gang has given the rest away."
"Canning, blast him!" shouted Hale fiercely.
"Ah!" Jabez turned on him, "you admit then that I speak the truth."
"I admit nothing," muttered Hale, wiping his face.
"As you please," Jabez moved towards the door leading into the inner
room where Lord Charvington and George were concealed, "but Canning is
now in communication with the police. I learned yesterday that he knew
all. I got his address from young Walker, and have seen him. To save
his own skin he will turn king's evidence and you and Miss Ellis
there, and her dear uncle and Sargent, and a few others, including
Mrs. Petty, will be----"
"Damn you," cried Hale, while Maud stood trembling at the outer door,
which she had not strength enough to open, "I'll kill you."
With outstretched hand he lunged forward to grip the lawyer. Jabez on
the watch dexterously slipped aside and flung open the door. Hale
unable to restrain his impetus plunged right through the entrance into
the strong arms of George Walker. That young gentleman picked him up
like a feather and carrying him into the outer room, flung him into
Jabez's chair. Maud uttered a cry of alarm. She did not know Lord
Charvington: but she knew George, and guessed that he had overheard
the whole wicked plot. Overcome with shame she tore blindly at the
door, opened it hurriedly and fled away, pulling down her veil to hide
her shameful face. She could not meet the eye of the man, whom she had
wronged so deeply, because she loved him too well.
None of the three men followed her, as their attention was taken up
with Hale. Over him stood George, righteously indignant. "You
confounded blackguard," cried George between his teeth, "if you were
not Lesbia's father I would murder you."
"Set your mind at rest on that point, George," said Lord Charvington,
who was strangely white, "I am Lesbia's father."
"You!" George recoiled, dazed and startled. "Katherine Morse was my
first wife and I am Lesbia's father."
"Now," said George to Hale, "I can choke the wicked life out of you."
But Charvington stopped him. "Leave him to God."