AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY.
It was five days later.
The funeral was over. Everything had been done decently and in order,
and in the great drawing-room at Stanbrook, the shutters of which of
late years had been rarely opened, a small company were assembled, by
invitation of Mr. Piljoy, to hear the reading of the dead man's will.
Miss Baynard and Mrs. Budd sat together on one of the couches; a
little way removed, in stately isolation, sat Mrs. Bullivant; while
Mrs. Dace, the housekeeper, remained modestly in the background, with
Andry Luce and two or three other old servants to keep her company.
The gentlemen comprised Mr. Herries, the vicar; Mr. Delafosse, Sir
James Dalrymple, of Langrig, and Squire Staniforth, of Claypool; the
two latter of whom, at Mr. Cortelyon's request, had agreed to act as
trustees under his will. They were clear-headed, thoroughly practical
men, with plenty of leisure on their hands, and, as such, had
recommended themselves to the late Squire, who was their senior by
more than a score years, and had known their fathers before them.
Mr. Piljoy sat by himself at the big oval table in the centre of the
room. The will, as yet unopened, lay there in front of him.
When everybody had settled into their places and the door was finally
shut, Mr. Piljoy cleared his voice, and, leaning forward a little with
his clasped hands resting on the table, said, addressing the company
at large: "Before breaking the seal of the document which I am here
for the purpose of reading to you, I may just remark for the
information of everybody, and in order to satisfy any curiosity which
might otherwise be felt on the point, that this is not the first
testament drawn up by me for the late Mr. Cortelyon. There was a much
earlier will, the provisions of which, I need scarcely tell you, were
of a widely different nature from those of the present one; but that
will was destroyed at the time of the unhappy quarrel between father
and son, of which, I daresay, most of those here have some cognizance.
For the next few years no will of any kind was in existence, nor could
Mr. Cortelyon be persuaded into making another till he found himself
overtaken by illness of a very serious kind. I will now, with your
permission, proceed to open and read the will."
Sir James tapped his snuff-box, opened it, offered it to his
co-trustee, and then indulged himself with a large pinch. The servants
in the background laid their heads together and whispered among
themselves. Mrs. Bullivant tried to look as if the reading was a
matter which in no way concerned her, and almost succeeded. Miss
Baynard and Andry Luce alone knew what was coming. To the former the
whole proceeding was fraught with heartfelt torture, from which she
would fain have escaped had there been any way open for her to do so.
The will itself was enclosed in a sheet of parchment secured with two
large black seals. These latter Mr. Piljoy did not break, but cut
round them with his penknife and got at the contents that way. Pushing
the envelope aside, he proceeded to unfold and straighten out the
will; then, having settled his spectacles more firmly astride his
nose, he gave a preliminary cough and turned over the first page.
Apparently, however, he had forgotten to how many pages the document
extended, and in order to satisfy himself on the point, before
beginning to read he turned the leaves over one by one--there were
only five or six in all--till he came to the last one, on reaching
which his eye instinctively travelled to the foot of it.
Next instant he gave a start and sprang to his feet, his eyes still
glued to the bottom of the will. He looked dazed--thunderstruck--and
well he might.
"What is the meaning of this?" he cried. "What devilry has been at
work? The will is unsigned!"
And so, indeed, it proved to be. There was the space for the three
signatures, those of the testator and the two witnesses, but the
signatures themselves were wanting.
Over the scene that ensued we need not linger. The servants were told
that they were no longer wanted, and went back to their duties
terribly crestfallen. The legacies on which they had so surely counted
seemed to have dissolved on a sudden into thin air.
For the first few minutes after the fatal announcement Mrs. Bullivant
sat like an image of stony despair. So stunned was she that, for the
time being, she seemed deprived of the power of coherent thought. She
was roused, in part at least, by some words addressed by Sir James
Dalrymple to Mr. Piljoy.
"Of course the will as it stands is wholly inoperative, still, Mr.
Staniforth and I are a little curious with regard to its contents, so
perhaps you won't mind devoting a minute or two to our enlightenment.
There is no need for you to read out the different clauses; all we
want is to be made acquainted with the main features of the document."
"Five minutes will suffice for that purpose," replied the lawyer. "To
begin with, there are some half-dozen bequests, varying in amount, to
as many old servants and dependents, with the details of which I need
not trouble you. To the testator's old friend, Mr. Delafosse"--bowing
to that gentleman--"are bequeathed sundry coins, medals, and other
curios, a list of which will be found among the private papers of the
deceased. Then I must not omit to mention that to each of you
gentlemen, for your trouble in acting as trustees, is left the sum of
one hundred and fifty guineas; and to Mr. Herries a similar sum for
distribution among the deserving poor of the parish. With regard to
his niece, Miss Baynard"--here he favored Nell with a bow--"the
testator's instructions are that a sum of money be invested in her
name in the public funds sufficient to bring her in an annual income
of three hundred pounds, the which she shall enjoy for life, the
principal at her demise to be divided among certain specified
charitable institutions. To the Hon. Mrs. Bullivant"--a bow for that
lady--"is left the sum of three thousand pounds in hard cash. Every
thing else of which the testator may die possessed--including the
Stanbrook and Barrowmead properties, another large estate on the
borders of Yorkshire, and certain other smaller estates--is willed in
trust to Gavin Bullivant, the son of the Hon. Mrs. Bullivant, on
condition that on coming of age he adds to his present cognomen that
of 'Cortelyon.' Finally, I may mention that as regards the Stanbrook
property Mrs. Bullivant is bequeathed a life-interest in the same."
He ceased, and Sir James and his friend stared at each other in sheer
amazement, but in Mrs. Bullivant's presence they could not well give
expression to what they thought. Mr. Staniforth was the first to break
the silence.
"Both Sir James and I were under the impression that the late Mr.
Cortelyon had a grandson. His only son died some few years ago, did he
not, leaving behind him a widow and one child?"
"He did."
"And yet in your summary of the contents of the will you made no
mention of either of their names."
"The widow died some time ago. There was no mention of the boy's name
on my part for the very good reason that it is not included in the
will. Mr. Cortelyon never forgave his son's marriage, and refused in
any way to acknowledge his grandchild."
Again the two men looked at each other, and again they refrained from
giving expression to the thoughts at work within them.
Then said Sir James: "An unsigned will is so much waste paper. In case
no other will, duly executed, should turn up, what will happen?"
"Only one thing can happen. The case will resolve itself into one of
intestacy, and everything--lock, stock, and barrel--will go to the
heir-at-law, that is to say, to the grandson of whom mention has just
been made."
The two gentlemen nodded. That was their own view exactly.
Miss Baynard had sat all this time without speaking or stirring. When
Mr. Piljoy made the startling announcement that the will was without
signature, she flashed a look at Andry Luce which seemed to ask in
bewilderment, "What is the meaning of this?" But Andry, nursing his
chin in the palm of one hand, was apparently staring straight before
him, and did not, or would not, meet her eyes. When, however, Mrs.
Dace and the others proceeded to leave the room, Andry, who was about
to follow them, glanced at Nell, and, in obedience to a signal from
her, resumed his seat.
Nell as was dumfounded as Mrs. Bullivant by the turn events had taken.
She had not clearly comprehended what the result would be of the will
being unsigned till she heard Mr. Piljoy's declaration that, in the
event of no other will being found, everything would go to Evan as his
grandfather's heir-at-law. Then a great gladness took possession of
her, and her heart swelled with thankfulness.
But of a sudden, a shiver of apprehension ran through her. Mr.
Staniforth was speaking:
"Have you any reason whatever, Mr. Piljoy, for supposing that any
other will than this unsigned one is in existence?"
Not Miss Baynard only, but Mrs. Bullivant as well, awaited the
lawyer's answer with strained breathlessness.
Mr. Piljoy shrugged his shoulders. "That, sir, is a question which
just now I am hardly prepared to answer, and for this reason, that no
one can be more mystified and puzzled by the turn affairs have taken
this afternoon than I am. One supposition, and one only, suggests
itself to me as tending in the slightest degree to elucidate the
mystery. What that supposition is I will, with your permission, now
proceed to explain."
He lay back in the big library chair, cleared his voice, and toyed
with his spectacles for a few seconds before proceeding.
"In accordance with Mr. Cortelyon's instructions, his will was drawn
up by me in duplicate. This was done as a provision of safety; in the
event of any hitch or blunder occurring in the signing or witnessing
of one document, the other would be available. Gout having laid me by
the heels, I gave the duplicate wills into the charge of Mr. Tew, my
managing clerk, who was just as competent to see to the signing and
witnessing as I was. Here before me is the will which he next day
brought back and handed to me for safe custody in the belief that it
had been duly signed and witnessed; and here is the envelope that held
it, sealed in two places with Mr. Cortelyon's own seal, and with the
words, 'Ambrose Cortelyon--His Will' written across the face of it
with his own pen. Now, on consideration, it seems to me just possible
that, through some mischance, the unsigned will got substituted for
the signed one in the envelope. If my supposition has any basis of
fact, the question that naturally follows is, What became of the
duplicate will? Is there any one present, who is in a position to
throw any light on the point involved?"
Whether consciously or unconsciously, as he asked the question his
eyes fixed themselves on Miss Baynard. The eyes of every one there
followed those of Mr. Piljoy.
Nell stood up, her cheeks warmed with the fine glow of color. "My
uncle's secretary, Andry Luce, who is now present, was, I believe, in
the room when the will was signed."
"Then he will doubtless be willing to answer to the best of his
ability any questions we may think well to put to him?"
Turning to Andry, Nell said, "You are quite willing to answer any
questions Mr. Piljoy or these other gentlemen may ask you, are you
not?"
The reply was two vigorous nods in the affirmative.
Turning to Sir James and his friend, Nell said, "Unfortunately, Andry
is dumb, and has been so from his youth, so that I shall have to
translate his answers for you."
"Come a bit more to the front, Andry, there's a good fellow," said Mr.
Piljoy, who knew him of old. Then he seemed to consider for a few
seconds while Andry changed his seat.
"You were in the room when the will was signed?" was the lawyer's
first question.
With a look at Nell, his quick-moving fingers spelled out the answer,
"I was," which was repeated aloud by her; and the same process had to
be gone through in the case of all his answers.
"What persons were in the room at the time besides yourself and the
testator?"
"Mr. Tew, and the two witnesses--Peter Grice, the groom, and Mike
Denny, the under-gardener."
"Were you aware that Mr. Tew had brought two wills with him?"
"I was, I saw both of them."
"On entering the room what did he do with them?"
"He gave them both to the Squire."
"And what happened next?"
"The Squire thrust one of them under his pillow, and gave the other
back to Mr. Tew for him to read it aloud."
"And what happened when the reading had come to an end?"
"The bell rang for me--I had been ordered out of the room while the
reading took place--and, on entering, Mr. Tew told me that the Squire
was ready for the witnesses, whom I had been careful to have close at
hand, so that there should be no delay."
"Proceed."
"The witnesses were brought into the room and placed where they could
see all that went forward. Pen and ink were in readiness. I raised the
Squire in bed--he was too weak to sit up without help--and supported
him with an arm round his waist. Mr. Tew placed the will in front of
him, gave him the pen, pointed out the place for him, and with that
Mr. Cortelyon slowly and carefully signed his name. Then Mr. Tew took
the will to the table and caused Grice and Denny to sign it one after
the other. When that was done the two men were dismissed."
"Yes, and after that?"
"Following the men into the corridor, by the Squire's orders I made
each of them a present of a crown piece. That done, I at once went
back to the room. Mr. Tew was standing by the table with the folded
will in his hand. 'Seal it up,' said my master to me. Mr. Tew having
handed to it to me, I at once proceeded to enclose it in the sheet of
parchment, out of which it was taken by Mr. Piljoy a little while
since, sealing the packet in two places with my master's own seal.
Then I held him up again, and with a trembling hand he wrote on the
envelope, 'Ambrose Cortelyon--His Will.' That done, the packet was
given into the custody of Mr. Tew, and the business was at an end."
"Not quite, Andry, not quite--at least as far as we are concerned. You
are forgetting the duplicate will. What became of that?"
"Mr. Tew had not been five minutes gone before my master drew the
other will from under his pillow, and, giving it to me, said, 'Burn it
now--at once.' There was a fire in the room, and, taking the will, I
thrust it between the bars. Mr. Cortelyon never took his eyes off the
grate till it was burnt to ashes."
"You have no reason whatever for supposing that the unsigned will was
substituted for the signed one during the time you were out of the
room?"
"No, sir--how should I? Mr. Tew never left the room, and when I went
back it was from his hands I received the will in order to seal it
up."
Apparently Mr. Piljoy had no more questions to put. After a
glance round at the perplexed faces of his audience, he said:
"Notwithstanding the very clear and straightforward statement with
which Andry Luce has just favored us, the mystery of the unsigned will
remains exactly where it was before. We seem no nearer a solution of
it than we were at first, and I confess myself wholly at a loss to
advise as to what step, if any, it behoves us to take next. Never in
the whole of my experience have I been confronted with a state of
affairs so puzzling and inexplicable."
"Never heard tell of owt like it, dang me if I have!" exclaimed Sir
James, who had a habit of lapsing into the vernacular now and again.
"Licks cock-fighting all to bits, that it does," muttered Mr.
Staniforth.
The Vicar and Mr. Delafosse spoke together in low tones.
So far Mrs. Bullivant had maintained an unbroken silence. Though more
than once greatly tempted to do so, she had put a strong restraint
upon herself, and had sat there with compressed lips listening to all
that was said, passing through the whole gamut of feeling from hope to
despair, and finally struck to the earth, almost, as it seemed, beyond
recovery, by Mr. Piljoy's last words. There had been revealed to her a
golden vision far exceeding her utmost dreams, but between her and it
some malignant fiend had dug a shadowy gulf which he defied her to
overpass. She had been vouchsafed a glimpse of Paradise, only to have
the gates of pearl slammed in her face. It was maddening. Her very
soul was aflame with impotent rage. She was tortured almost beyond
endurance by the knowledge of all she had lost; of all that had
slipped through her fingers, as at the bidding of a necromancer,
before she had a chance of grasping it; of all that ought to have been
hers, but was not!
She could no longer keep silent. "It is very evident to me," she
began, addressing herself directly to the lawyer, "that my helpless
boy and I have been made the victims of a vile conspiracy. Whether
you, sir, are in the secret of it or no I cannot say, but I give you
warning that I shall lose no time in placing the affair in the hands
of my solicitors, and that even if it cost me every shilling I have in
the world, this foul attempt to defraud me and mine shall be unmasked,
and the concocters of it brought to the bar of justice."
She spoke with studied quietude and without any trace of passion, but
her hearers felt that in those smooth accents there was a hidden venom
far more dangerous than any mere outburst of feminine anger would have
been.
"A vile conspiracy!" burst forth the irate lawyer. "I would have you
know, madame, that----"
She stopped him with an imperious gesture. "I have said all I wish to
say, and no empty protestations on your part will avail anything.
Roguery has been at work and must be unmasked. It is enough that you
know my intentions."
She had risen while speaking, and now, after the slightest possible
bow to Sir James and the others, she moved with her proudest and most
dignified air towards the door, which Andry hastened to open for her,
and so went her way, to the great relief of everybody there.
"Well, that caps everything!" ejaculated Mr. Staniforth. "A sweet
temper to live with, eh, Jimmy?"
"Ay, but think of all the woman has lost, and by a turn of fortune's
wheel the like of which I never heard tell of. No wonder she's put
about; in her place who wouldn't be? Not but what, mind you, I
consider the will a most unjust one, and I can't say I'm anything but
glad that things have turned out as they have."
Mr. Delafosse had sat through the proceedings as mum as a mouse. He
had all a collector's selfishness, and although he told himself how
glad he was that, despite his late friend's unjust will, the rightful
heir would succeed to the property, he could not help being very
sorrowful on his own account. Under the changed circumstances of the
case not a coin, not a medal, not a curio of any kind would come to
him; and there were so many things in his friend's collection which
his soul coveted! It was very, very sad, but there was no help for it.
When the others were gone Mr. Piljoy and Nell had a little
confidential talk together.
"Never in the whole of my professional experience have I been so
perplexed and mystified as by the events of this afternoon," said the
lawyer. "I can't make head or tail of 'em, and that's a fact. Of
course, when I get back I shall question Tew very closely about all
that took place at the signing of the will, but I must say that I have
very little hope of his being able to throw any fresh light on the
affair. It's just as if we had all been made the victims of a
conjurer's trick. Not but what, Miss Nell, I'm more than pleased at
the way things have turned out, and I don't mind confessing to you
that I was strongly opposed to the will as it stands, and went as far
as I dared in the endeavor to persuade your uncle not to disinherit
his grandson _in toto_. But you know the kind of man he was, how
obstinate, and how utterly opposed to any suggestions from others
which ran counter to his own views; indeed, he would hardly listen to
me, and ended by telling me with an oath to mind my own business. On
one point only do I feel sorry. If no other will turns up, of which I
fail to see any likelihood, you, my dear Miss Nell, will be left out
in the cold, for in that case, as I have remarked already, the son of
Richard Cortelyon becomes the sole heir and legatee."
"And do you think for one moment, Mr. Piljoy, that I am anything but
rejoiced that such should be the case?" demanded Nell, with sparkling
eyes. "If you do, you misjudge me strangely. Oh! it was a most unjust
and unnatural will, and my uncle himself acknowledged it to be so,
but not till too late. With his last breath he implored me to send for
the will and destroy it. His last conscious words were, 'To my
grandson--all; to that woman'--meaning Mrs. Bullivant, who was there
by the bedside--'nothing.' Had he but lived a few hours longer, the
will would have been destroyed in accordance with his wishes."
"I am very glad you have told me this, Miss Nell, very glad indeed. If
one were superstitiously inclined, one would not find it hard to
believe that it was the Squire's own hand which, by some means unknown
to us, erased his signature from a document the existence of which, in
the clear light which sometimes comes to people at the point of death,
he saw reason to regret."
"Should I live to be a hundred, I shall look back to this day as one
of the red-letter days of my existence," said Nell with fervor. "No
words could express to you how glad I am. But tell me, Mr. Piljoy,
what is the next thing to be done?"
"My advice is that just at present we do nothing. Should it really
prove to be Mrs. Bullivant's intention to contest the heir's
claim--for one never can foretell what a desperate woman may or may
not choose to do--I shall doubtless hear from her solicitors before
long. Meanwhile, our best plan will be to rest quietly on our oars."