Upon the Eversleighs the verdict at the inquest had various effects.
Mrs. Eversleigh had been completely upset by the discovery of the body
of Morris Thornton in the private rooms of Silwood, her husband's
partner, but she recovered quickly after the verdict, which dispelled a
great multitude of nameless fears that had sprung up within her mind.
The presence of Kitty at the inquest had been entirely her own idea, and
it had required courage of an almost desperate sort to carry it out. Her
lover, seeing the strain the girl was putting on herself, tried to
dissuade her from going, but she bravely persisted. When the verdict was
given, and she witnessed the relief it afforded her friends, she felt
far more than repaid. At the same time, the tragedy which closed her
father's life lay heavy upon her. What helped her most to bear it was
Gilbert's love and unfailing sympathy. And on the girl herself all these
strange and painful events resulted in materially deepening and
strengthening her character. Hitherto anything of the kind had been far
removed from her.
With regard to Gilbert Eversleigh, he knew not what to conclude, as all
attempts on his part to reason out the mystery of Stone Buildings
invariably ended in confusion. He told himself that the secret of the
affair was never likely to be revealed, and was not sure if he were glad
or sorry this should be the case. Yet at times he had an uneasy feeling
that perhaps, after all, there was more to come.
On the benumbed mind, on the half-paralyzed faculties, of Francis
Eversleigh the verdict for a while acted like a charm; for a short time
its effect on him was little short of magical.
He had believed that Cooper Silwood had murdered Morris Thornton; what
he alone knew made the deed only too probable. To find, then, that there
had been no murder was a relief to him beyond all words to describe. For
a few days it nearly made a man of him. He saw that much was dark
regarding the death of his old friend and client, and he was absolutely
certain that in some way or other Silwood was mixed up in it; but to
know that his partner had not actually been guilty of the blackest crime
in the calendar had a beneficial influence on him.
The sanguine side of his nature, long overshadowed, now began to assert
itself; he even whispered to himself that it was possible his ruin might
be averted after all.
At first he feared that the standing of the firm might be so gravely
compromised by the events which had taken place that its position would
be rendered hopeless by the withdrawal of their business by its clients;
but, when then they took no steps in this direction, the elasticity of
his mind asserted itself more and more. As a matter of fact, a great
deal of sympathy was expressed for him; several of his clients, indeed,
went out of their way to assure him of their undiminished confidence
and regard. No one for an instant suspected there was anything wrong
with the firm. The death of Thornton was looked upon as an inexplicable
fatality, that of Silwood as another.
In these reassuring circumstances he took heart of grace, plucked up
courage, and said to himself that he must make a decided change in his
own habits and methods, and must no longer be easy-going, careless, and
unsystematic, but must work doubly hard, and do whatever lay in his
power to save the situation. But a man's character is not changed in a
day, and Francis Eversleigh, despite his brave resolutions, was, at
bottom, the same Francis Eversleigh. And with all the heart in the world
to retrieve lost ground, it was hardly possible for him to do it, even
if his affairs had been in a different position.
His most pressing duty, he knew, was to make that examination into the
business of his firm which he had purposed making earlier. One morning
towards the end of the week in which the verdict was given, he came to
his office determined to commence a thorough overhauling of his
accounts, but his innate weakness prevented him from persevering. And,
in addition to the slackness habitual to him, there was another reason
that kept him back. And this reason was Williamson.
Had Eversleigh been a strong man, he would have made the death of his
partner an excuse for this examination--so natural an excuse, in truth,
that Williamson would have thought nothing of it. But he had not got
very far in examining the books when he became aware that the head-clerk
was following all he did with suspicious interest. The mere fact that
Eversleigh was manifesting unusual activity was enough to excite
surprise in Williamson. The first shock which the returning complacency
of the solicitor received came from the thought that perhaps Williamson
had a glimmering of the truth.
Then Eversleigh could not do much in the way of investigation without
referring to Williamson for information. In any case, Eversleigh saw
with fatal distinctness, that if this process were continued, the result
could be no other than to put Williamson in possession of the whole
circumstances of the firm. Conscious of this, his good resolves suffered
eclipse, and he once more fell back on the desperate policy of letting
things drift whither they would. But, for a week or two, matters at 176,
New Square, Lincoln's Inn, went on as if nothing out of the common had
happened, or was likely to happen. Francis Eversleigh, his son Ernest,
the head-clerk Williamson, and the other clerks, occupied their
accustomed seats in their accustomed rooms. People came and went as
usual; deeds were prepared, documents drawn up, and all the machinery of
the office seemed to be in excellent running order. No shadow of
approaching doom darkened the firm's doors.
Still, Eversleigh knew that he could not continue his policy of drifting
beyond a certain point. It was part of his unescapable misfortune that
the severest pressure on him came in one way or another from members of
his own unsuspecting family.
In the first place, it was necessary to get another partner in place of
Silwood. This, on various pretexts, which gave him delay, he put off. He
knew that Ernest must expect to be taken into partnership at this
juncture when a suitable opportunity presented itself. But to make
Ernest a partner meant involving the young man in the ruin of the
firm--if ruin came, and Eversleigh in his heart now believed that it was
inevitable--and he was minded not to do this if it could be helped. But
it was difficult for him to resist the pressure brought to bear upon
him. His wife spoke to him of Ernest, but he managed to quiet her with
the promise that before long the matter would be satisfactorily
arranged. And this was the easier, inasmuch as the poor lady, who had
seen the improvement in her husband's state of health after the verdict,
believed Ernest had only to wait a few weeks and all would be well.
But the improvement in Francis Eversleigh's bodily and mental health was
only, could be only temporary. Already drifting like a rudderless ship,
he might any moment founder on the rocks. Deeply involved in a course of
equivocation and deceit, to which there could be but one end, unless
some miracle occurred, the necessity of continuing in it, added to the
other circumstances of his situation, soon changed the transient
brightness of his spirits into the gloom of that settled and terrible
melancholy which had descended upon him before. In vain he strove to
fight against it, to overcome it; his efforts were utterly useless.
The most serious things he had to consider were the Thornton Estate and
the Silwood Estate.
With regard to the latter, he well knew there was no such thing as a
Silwood Estate at all, but he deemed it essential for the sake of
keeping up appearances to make a pretence that there was such an
estate--at least, until it became evident there was none. Here the
"law's delays," of which he took full advantage, assisted him; but then
there was Williamson endlessly curious and prying. Some of the
questions he put to his principal were hard to answer, and drove
Eversleigh to the verge of madness.
Silwood's room in the office, the japanned box--always excepting the
secret cavity of which no one knew--the whole office, and finally
Silwood's chambers in Stone Buildings, now free from the embargo of the
law, had been carefully searched for the will of the dead solicitor; but
no will had been found. Williamson openly said that the absence of a
will in the case of a man who must have been rich, and who was a lawyer
to boot, was a most singular thing. Undoubtedly it was this that
suggested to the head-clerk something of the actual fact, namely, that
there was a screw loose with respect to the financial position of the
firm. But, as before, he had nothing definite to go on, and he never
dreamed that the affairs of the house were in the desperate condition
they really were.
But it was the Thornton Estate which troubled Eversleigh most of all.
Gilbert, as the affianced husband of Kitty, spoke to his father soon
after the inquest about Morris Thornton's property, and asked him if
Thornton's will was deposited in the office, or if the agents in Canada
had it.
Francis knew there was a will in the office, and was tolerably sure no
other was in existence, but Gilbert's query gave him a chance of
standing him off on the whole subject for a considerable time. He
snatched at it eagerly.
"We have a will of his," he said to his son, "but it was executed a good
many years ago. I am, in the circumstances in which you stand towards
Kitty, betraying no confidence when I tell you that by that will he
left everything of which he was possessed to her. But it is quite
possible there may be a later will. That is a matter for inquiry. It
will certainly be necessary for us to wait till we hear from the agents
in British Columbia. They have been apprized by cable and by letter of
Mr. Thornton's death, and they must have seen something of it in the
papers--the noise of it has gone round the world. But we must not move
until we have heard from them. In the event of its being reasonably sure
that there is no other will, we will, of course, submit the one we have
to probate as soon as may be. I don't think we can do more at present."
"I understand," said Gilbert; "you will just observe the usual routine.
I suppose it will be some weeks, perhaps a month or two, before anything
further can be done. Still, I imagine you can get all the affairs of his
that are in your hands into the best order."
"Oh," said Eversleigh, with an attempt at lightness, "that is all right.
Mr. Silwood had charge of them, and now I have."
"I have no doubt, sir, they are all right," said Gilbert,
unsuspiciously.
"Yes, yes. I should say in a month or six weeks we can go to probate,
but it will depend, of course, upon what we hear from Vancouver. You may
be sure there will be no unnecessary delay."
"I am certain of that," assented Gilbert, readily, unvisited by the
slightest inkling of his father's state of mind.
Similar pretexts were used by Eversleigh in dealing with Ernest and
Williamson. And so a little time was gained, but it was to very small
purpose. Once more the strain on him was fast becoming past endurance.
A fortnight, three weeks, went by, and Eversleigh had relapsed
altogether into his former condition of deepest dejection, to the alarm
of his wife and relatives, who wondered what in the world could account
for it. But though he had gained respites in the matters that disquieted
him most seriously, he knew that at most and best they were but
respites, and likely to be short ones. He saw the day of reckoning
drawing nearer and nearer; that it should come in all probability
through his son Gilbert and Kitty, whom he loved as his own child, was
an aggravation of his sufferings.
It had been the custom of the Eversleighs to betake themselves to the
seaside during the month of August, but this year, because of all that
had happened, it had not been observed. Francis Eversleigh was entreated
by his family to take a brief holiday, but he declined on the plea there
was too much work at the office. He, on the other hand, besought his
wife to go away for a change, but she would not, with the result that
the Eversleighs and Kitty stayed on at Surbiton.
It was now that Kitty, more than all the rest, showed her affection for
him by devoting herself assiduously to his comfort in the most marked
manner. The girl was fond of him for his own sake, and was he not
Gilbert's father? In many little ways she tried to cheer him, and to
drive away the dark shadow that enveloped him. And all these loving
attentions were so many fresh stabs to the miserable man.
As the days ran on, Eversleigh was a prey to constant apprehensions; he
was haunted by the dread, from moment to moment, of something happening
which would lead to exposure.
And come it did, but from an unexpected quarter.
It came in the form of a demand for a large sum of money, and it came
from Harry Bennet, a man whom Eversleigh had almost forgotten,
particularly as Harry had for some time been a stranger at Ivydene.
This demand meant ruin.