“Well, then, I only wished to say to you that you have yourself to
blame. Did I not do all I could for you? From the beginning I tried to
drive you from the house. By every means, short of betraying my husband,
I tried to save you from him. I knew that he had a reason for bringing
you here. I knew that he would never let you get away again. No one knew
him as I knew him, who had suffered from him so often. I did not dare to
tell you all this. He would have killed me. But I did my best for you.
As things have turned out, you have been the best friend that I have
ever had. You have set me free, and I fancied that nothing but death
would do that. I am sorry if you are hurt, but I cannot reproach myself.
I told you that you were a fool—and a fool you have been.” She crept out
of the room, the bitter, singular woman, and I was never destined to see
her again. With what remained from her husband’s property she went back
to her native land, and I have heard that she afterwards took the veil
at Pernambuco.
It was not until I had been back in London for some time that the
doctors pronounced me to be well enough to do business. It was not a
very welcome permission to me, for I feared that it would be the signal
for an inrush of creditors; but it was Summers, my lawyer, who first
took advantage of it.
“I am very glad to see that your lordship is so much better,” said he.
“I have been waiting a long time to offer my congratulations.”
“What do you mean, Summers? This is no time for joking.”
“I mean what I say,” he answered. “You have been Lord Southerton for the
last six weeks, but we feared that it would retard your recovery if you
were to learn it.”
Lord Southerton! One of the richest peers in England! I could not
believe my ears. And then suddenly I thought of the time which had
elapsed, and how it coincided with my injuries.
“Then Lord Southerton must have died about the same time that I was
hurt?”
“His death occurred upon that very day.” Summers looked hard at me as I
spoke, and I am convinced—for he was a very shrewd fellow—that he had
guessed the true state of the case. He paused for a moment as if
awaiting a confidence from me, but I could not see what was to be gained
by exposing such a family scandal.
“Yes, a very curious coincidence,” he continued, with the same knowing
look. “Of course, you are aware that your cousin Everard King was the
next heir to the estates. Now, if it had been you instead of him who had
been torn to pieces by this tiger, or whatever it was, then of course he
would have been Lord Southerton at the present moment.”
“No doubt,” said I.
“And he took such an interest in it,” said Summers. “I happen to know
that the late Lord Southerton’s valet was in his pay, and that he used
to have telegrams from him every few hours to tell him how he was
getting on. That would be about the time when you were down there. Was
it not strange that he should wish to be so well informed, since he knew
that he was not the direct heir?”
“Very strange,” said I. “And now, Summers, if you will bring me my bills
and a new cheque-book, we will begin to get things into order.”