"What do you now intend to do?" asked the detective, after they had
emerged from the hospital tent.
"Go back to St. Paul by the first train," Gilbert replied, "and see what
are the contents of that compartment in the Minnesota Safety Deposit
Vaults. I don't doubt Silwood told the truth, but I wish to have his
statement confirmed."
"Naturally," remarked Hankey. "And after that?"
"I think of asking you, if you can manage it, to come with me to St.
Paul to-day. I should prefer to have you with me when I go to the Safety
Deposit Vaults, where you are probably well known----"
The detective nodded.
"----thereafter, I propose that you should return here, and await
events."
"Till Silwood is dead, I suppose you mean. And then?"
"Take care of Mrs. Russell and the child. If they wish to return to
England, be kind enough to carry out their desire. You shall have enough
funds from me for all purposes. If they elect to stay in this country, I
want you to find them a home, and I will see that the income promised is
remitted to you quarterly."
"Very good," said the detective. "My business in this matter is your
business. I'll go and see if there's a train southwards soon."
But they had to wait some hours, and it was the morning of another day
when they arrived in St. Paul.
Gilbert and the detective went to the Minnesota Safety Deposit Vaults,
and on their representing they had received the key of the compartment
from James Russell, no objection was made to their entering the place,
and withdrawing the papers from the receptacle in which they were
deposited. On inspection these papers were found to consist of Bank of
England notes, of various values from £100 to £1000, amounting in all to
£40,000; of gold bonds of half a dozen different American railroads,
each bond of the value of a thousand dollars, coming in the aggregate to
nearly a quarter of a million sterling; of bonds of the United States
Government for more than £200,000; and of miscellaneous securities, the
grand total being upwards of half a million sterling. One feature of all
these certificates, bonds, and shares, was they were all payable to
bearer, just as Silwood had said, as also, of course, were the Bank of
England notes.
Half a million sterling!
Such was the vast sum Cooper Silwood had accumulated at the expense of
the clients of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh.
Gilbert knew that the amount, roughly speaking, for which the firm was
responsible was about £400,000. Here, then, was sufficient, and more, to
satisfy all claims in full, and leave a good deal over for Mrs. James
Russell and her son. Gilbert resolved that after the obligations of the
firm were discharged, the balance should be placed in trust for her and
the boy.
Having come to this conclusion, Gilbert sent Hankey back to the scene of
the catastrophe. Then he despatched a brief cable to his brother Ernest,
saying, "Russell found. Property recovered. Returning." He was afraid to
put more than these few words into the message, lest by some mischance
they should fall into the wrong hands.
Without delay, Gilbert left St. Paul for Chicago and New York, reaching
the latter city in about forty hours safely. The possession of the
equivalent of half a million in a bag, which he never for a moment let
out of his sight, made him extremely anxious and uneasy. During the
journey from St. Paul to New York he did not allow himself to sleep, but
kept a determined eye on the bag. But no one suspected he was the bearer
of such an amount of riches, and he passed comparatively unnoticed from
start to finish.
On reaching New York, he at once went to the office of the line by which
he had come from England, and was pleased to hear that there was a ship
going out that very day at two o'clock in the afternoon, and that he
could sail on her if he wished. He replied that it would suit him
admirably. After paying for his passage, he produced the bag, and
inquired if it could be placed in the ship's strong room, to which
assent was given. Gilbert now felt his mind was at rest.
Yet during the voyage he was visited now and again by misgivings, as he
had heard that even the strong rooms of Atlantic greyhounds have not
always been burglar-proof. Then the ship was struck by a tempest in
mid-ocean, and Gilbert was afraid both he and the treasure might go to
the bottom. But at length the ship sailed into port, and there, at the
side of the dock, was Ernest waiting for him.
After the two brothers had embraced, and Ernest, in reply to Gilbert's
inquiry, had told him their father was in much the same condition as
when Gilbert had seen him last, he produced a cablegram, addressed to
Gilbert, which had been received at the office in Lincoln's Inn some
five days before.
"It is about Silwood, I think," said Gilbert.
The cablegram was from Hankey; it ran as follows--
"Russell dead. Wife desires return England. Writing."
"Silwood is dead," said Gilbert, briefly.
"Dead! I never thought to hear that!" exclaimed Ernest.
"I have much to tell you, Ernie; but wait until we are in the train.
Besides, I must get a bag out of the ship's strong room. There may be
some little delay over it; come with me."
Gilbert went back to the ship, whence, a short time afterwards, he
issued, bearing the precious bag.
"Do you see this bag?" he said to his brother in a whisper. "It is worth
half a million of money."
"Gilbert!"
"It is the truth; it contains Silwood's hoard."
In silence the brothers passed into the train for London. Once it was
well under way, Gilbert told Ernest all that had happened.
"Fancy Silwood being so attached to his wife and child!" cried Ernest.
"What a strange mixture he was! And now he is dead--really dead this
time! What a colossal failure he made of his life! And yet he could not
have carried out his schemes with the success he did achieve had he not
been a man of remarkable ability."
"Yes; but he has made others suffer. Think of father!"
"Yes; and yourself, indirectly, and Kitty."
"Any news of her?" asked Gilbert, wistfully.
"No."
"Have you been again to York to see Bennet?"
"No; but Deakin, the local solicitor, has arranged for me to see him on
Tuesday next."
Then there fell a silence between the brothers. Ernest was thinking over
what he had heard from Gilbert about Silwood and the recovery of the
money and the bonds; while Gilbert dwelt sadly on the image of Kitty,
wondering how she was bearing up and passing the time while Bennet lay
in prison. Then his mind shifted to the consideration of what still lay
before Ernest and himself.
"There will be much to think of, much to do," he said to Ernest. "I mean
with respect to winding up the affairs of the firm."
"Is it necessary, do you think, to wind up its affairs?"
"We must do something. What I thought was, that a letter to the clients
should be drawn up, stating that, as Silwood is dead and father
incapacitated by ill-health, the firm must be wound up; but that you--a
son of Francis Eversleigh, who had been for some time associated with
him in the business--proposed to begin a new business under the style of
Eversleigh and Eversleigh, and would be glad to have the same
confidence extended to you by the clients of the old firm as they had
shown to Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh. Something of that
kind--that's what I thought."
"Yes. There is one point," said Ernest, thoughtfully. "The properties
Silwood sold, such as house property and land property; what is to be
done about them?"
"I don't think we need try to replace them. In all such cases, I would
go to the particular clients themselves, tell them the truth, and offer
full compensation. You must remember Silwood's hoard amounts to far more
than the firm owes, and you are perfectly entitled to make every
necessary use of it."
When the brothers arrived in London, their first care was to take the
half-million bag to their bank, where they deposited the money and left
the bonds in the care of the manager. Then they went to Lincoln's Inn,
and proceeded to draft the letter Gilbert had suggested. The following
day these letters were despatched. One of them had a singular result; it
was that which was addressed to Harry Bennet.
The brothers had discussed what was to be done in his case, and had
decided that, though Bennet had given a discharge to the firm, yet he
must be paid the value of the property, Beauclerk Mansions, which
Silwood had sold. So a special note had been placed at the foot of the
letter sent him, apprizing him of their intention.
At the same time a letter was sent to Deakin, the York solicitor,
informing him that as the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh was
being wound up, owing to the continued ill health of the sole remaining
partner, the firm could no longer act with him for Bennet, and further,
that Mr. Gilbert Eversleigh had returned to them his brief in this case.
The first result of this was that Deakin came rushing up to London. He
had seen Bennet, who, wild with rage and defeated spite, had ordered him
to go and see what was the meaning of this change of front on the part
of the Eversleighs.
"Mr. Bennet," said Deakin, "is the most reckless man I ever saw. He
behaves like a lunatic, and says the most mad things. He tells me--of
course, I know it is absurd--that he can send Mr. Francis Eversleigh to
prison for embezzlement, and he demands again that Mr. Gilbert
Eversleigh appear for him at his trial."
It was Ernest Eversleigh to whom Deakin spoke. Ernest, acting on the
advice of Gilbert, told Deakin in confidence as much of the facts as was
necessary, winding up by saying--
"My father, no doubt, might still be proceeded against, but he is out of
his mind. Besides, I offer the fullest compensation. Taking these two
things together, is there need to say more?"
"I should say not," replied Deakin, without a moment's hesitation.
And back Deakin went to York, and acquainted Bennet with what he had
learned. For a time Bennet refused to believe what Deakin had told him
about the recovery of the money from Silwood, but when at last he was
convinced of it, he fell into a great surly silence, from which he could
not be drawn. When Deakin spoke of obtaining the services of an eminent
counsel for his defence, Bennet made no reply. Instead of giving way to
anger, as he usually did when he heard anything that displeased him, he
sat gloomy and sullen. After trying for ten minutes to get a word out
of him, and failing, Deakin left the prison.
Next morning he received a hurried summons to the Governor of the
Prison's room, and there he heard that Bennet, in spite of the fact that
he was constantly watched night and day, had somehow managed to open a
vein in his arm and had bled to death in the night.
"The warder, who was guarding him at the time," said the Governor, "saw
him lying on his bed fast asleep, as he supposed; when it was daylight
blood was noticed on the floor, and then it was found that Bennet was
dead."
"But how did he get an instrument with which to open a vein in his arm?"
asked Deakin, aghast.
"The surgeon says," answered the Governor, "that the vein was bitten
open. The act was done with great determination. You saw him yesterday,
I believe; was there anything in what you told him to account for the
deed?"
"I brought him news that greatly disappointed him, but nothing to
account for this. Poor devil!"
But Deakin did not know all.
When Bennet's death became public, there were many who said he had
cheated the gallows, and few mourned for the lost life and the career
gone fatally wrong.
Even Kitty Thornton, in her kind heart, could not sincerely say she was
sorry he was dead. Indeed, in the years that came after, she never
thought of Harry Bennet without growing quiet and pensive far beyond her
wont, as she reflected how, in one way and another, she had been saved
from him.
* * * * *
Gilbert Eversleigh and Kitty Thornton did not come together at once
again--the shadow of Bennet lay between them, but in the course of time
they did, as was inevitable.
"When thou doest well unto thyself," said the satirist, "all men will
speak well of thee."
And Gilbert Eversleigh, the rising barrister, backed by the beauty and
wealth of his wife, is spoken well of by all the world.
The other side of life's double shield is to be seen at Ivydene, where
there may be beheld, nursed and tended by a wife's unchanging love, and
a daughter's unalterable affection, a white-haired, bent figure, from
whose loose lips there comes the question, over and over again, "What
o'clock is it? What o'clock is it?"
THE END
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, LONDON AND BECCLES.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn, by Robert Machray