The letter Alexander Lauderdale Junior had written to Ralston will have
given some idea of what he was willing to sacrifice for the sake of
having the will annulled. A moral degeneration had begun in him, which
might go far in the end. The passion he had so long tried to conceal,
with considerable success, and which had fed for many years on a small
object, was stirred up and set at large by the enormous wealth now at
stake. The man’s pride shrank away before it, and even his rigid
principles wavered. He began to make those compromises with his
conscience which circumstances suggested, and he forced his religious
habits to help in doing the dirty work of his greed. In a lower walk of
life, perhaps, such a man, in such a situation, would have committed
crimes to obtain the money. Alexander Junior robbed his own soul, and
murdered his own conscience. We shall know some day what difference
there is between that and murder in the first degree.
It was not an affair of a few days. Such a character could not change
easily nor quickly, either for better or for worse. For years the
thought of his uncle’s money had been constantly present with him, and
for many years he had dreamt the miser’s dream of endless gold. There
was nothing new in it, nor, of itself, had it ever disturbed the
equanimity of his well-practised righteousness. It had never even
occurred to him that in not spending his hoarded income he was wronging
any one. He had regarded his wife’s painting and selling her miniatures
as a wholesome occupation, and as what certain persons call a moral
discipline. The principles of economy which he forced his household to
practise were agreeable to the ascetic disposition which in a greater or
less degree showed itself in the Scotch blood of the Lauderdales.
Economy was a means of feeling that he was better than other people,
and, axiomatically, it cost nothing, and helped to satisfy his main
passion. Only his sense of social importance, which was strong and
hereditary, had hindered him from actually reducing his establishment to
a condition of positive penury. But that would have been impossible,
because it would have been impossible to conceal it. He preserved the
limits so carefully that, while every one said that the Lauderdales
lived very quietly, no one ever thought of saying that they lived
poorly. Then, too, Mrs. Lauderdale was herself an excellent manager, and
had long been deceived by her husband’s assurance that he was poor and
wholly dependent upon the salary he received from the Trust Company, in
which he held no interest, as he could always easily prove. As a matter
of fact, though he practically directed the affairs of the Company
himself, he considered United States’ bonds as a safer investment. He
did not consider that he was deceiving his wife, either. In his own
opinion he was poor. What was a million? There were some who had nearly
two hundred millions. Scores, perhaps hundreds, in the country had more
than fifty millions. What was a million? Was not a man poor who had but
one dollar when his neighbour had two hundred? It was no business of his
wife’s, nor of any one else, if he had something put away. It had always
been possible, within the limits of the law, that his uncle might leave
him nothing. So he had practised economy, and grown rich secretly.
But all his hardly hoarded savings were but as a drop to the sea of gold
which surged upon the horizon of his hopes when he thought of Robert
Lauderdale’s death, and which rushed forward all at once to his very
feet, as soon as the old man was really dead. It washed away his
elaborately drawn pattern of morality, as the tide obliterates the
figures a child has scrawled upon the sand; it rose by quick degrees,
and flowed higher than the rigid landmarks which he had driven like
stakes into the flat expanses of his soul; it boiled up and sucked back
the earth from beneath the very foundations of the chapel of ease he
had built for his conscience, over his own little spring of wealth, when
all the shore had been dry and arid, and the golden ocean very far off.
The long cherished hope had prepared the circumstances for the reality.
He meant now to have at least half the fortune, or perish in the attempt
to get it. That is, he was ready to spend even what he had saved, in
order to get possession of the greater sum. And he was far more ready to
spend other things, such as his pride and his manliness. He was ready
and willing to lay the shears to his garment of righteousness, and to
clip and cut it to the very limits of moral decency, leaving but enough
to cover the nakedness of his miserly soul.
Therefore he had written that letter to John Ralston, and one something
like it to John’s mother, believing it probable that she had been told
by her son of much that had taken place. His lawyer had told him that if
the will were probated, and if it became necessary to attack it on other
grounds, it would be of the highest importance that the next of kin
should act in concert against the distant relations who had been so
highly favoured. It became his business, therefore, to make sure of
having the Ralstons on his side.
He distrusted them, after what had happened. He knew that they cared
little for money, and much for a certain kind of sentiment which was
quite foreign to him, and he believed them capable of opposing him,
merely in order that the dead man’s wishes might be carried out. The
situation in which he found himself was an unexpected one, too. He had
been taken by surprise and obliged to act at short notice, and he was no
diplomatist. He merely took the first means which offered for carrying
out his lawyer’s idea. The will itself was of an unusual character. He
had expected that his uncle would either divide the fortune between the
next of kin, in trusts for their children, with a legacy to the Brights,
or that he would make something like an equal distribution amongst all
the living members of the family. He had long cherished, however, the
secret hope that as his own branch of the family was the most numerous,
and as he himself had such an unassailable character for uprightness and
economy, the largest share might be placed in his hands for
administration, if not actually as his own property. He had been
disappointed, and he considered the will a piece of flagrant injustice.
Many outsiders shared his opinion, and asked one another why the Brights
should have so much, and Alexander Junior had the satisfaction of
feeling that his action would be approved by a large number of
hard-headed business men amongst his acquaintances. His lawyer, too, was
encouraged by this fact; and looked forward confidently to pocketing an
enormous fee. He was a man as hard headed, as upright, and as spotless
in reputation as his client, and the high morality of their united
forces was imposing.
If Alexander had conceived it possible that Mrs. Ralston and her son
could agree to have no opinion in the matter, but to abide by their
lawyer’s judgment, and let him act as he thought best, he might have
spared himself the trouble and humiliation of writing the letter to
John. He would have known that Mr. Henry Brett was not the man to advise
his clients against taking their rights without any regard to sentiment,
and Alexander’s joy was great when he found that Brett was with him--a
much younger man than his own lawyer, but keen, business-like, and of
excellent standing. Brett had married the widow of the notorious forger
and defaulter, John Darche, and had diminished neither his popularity
nor his credit by so doing.
Alexander reproached himself in a way that would have surprised his
former virtue, for having so bitterly opposed Katharine’s marriage with
John Ralston. He really could not conceive how he could ever have
attached so much importance to the young fellow’s youthful follies. It
was the most natural thing in the world as it seemed to him now, that
with the prospect of boundless wealth the boy should have idled away his
time and amused himself as other boys did. His mind was full of excuses
for Ralston. What he could not pardon, he allowed to be swamped by the
gold-flood as soon as it presented itself. That one unpardonable thing
was the blow he had received. When he could not help thinking of it, and
when it stung his manliness--for he was a brave man--he took pains to
recollect that he had at once got John by the throat, and would probably
have broken some of his bones for him, if Katharine’s hurt had not
interrupted the struggle. It was not as though he had received a blow
tamely, without retaliation. His blood had been up, and Ralston must
have got the worst of it if circumstances had not obliged him to pause
in his vengeance. Nothing can equal the unconscious sophistry of a man
whose main passion requires that he shall not feel that he has been
insulted.
And so matters proceeded. The Brights’ lawyer did his best to force the
will to probate. The Lauderdales’ and Ralstons’ legal advisers created
delays, and as they were in possession of the will, they were able to
prolong the situation, and prepare for action. Old Robert Lauderdale’s
lawyer, Mr. Allen, was moreover their ally. He did not believe that the
will was good, and resented the way in which his deceased client had
surreptitiously employed a young fellow like Russell, before mentioned,
to draw it up, after he, Allen, had drawn up one which had been
irreproachable. The first point that arose was in connection with one
of the witnesses, who was unluckily not forthcoming. The signature was
that of one ‘John Simons.’ In the list of servants who were to receive
annuities appeared the name of one ‘J. Simmons,’ a groom, who, strange
to say, was not to be found either. The Lauderdale lawyers maintained
that the witness and the servant were the same person, and that there
had been a mistake in spelling the name in the list; a fact which would
have debarred the will from probate, as no legatee can be a witness.
This forced the Bright lawyers to ask time in order to find either the
witness or the groom, or both, and meanwhile the other side looked into
the will itself in search of irregularities connected with the
suspension of the power of alienation, and the like. Mr. George W.
Russell, who had drawn up the will, looked on with his hands in his
pockets, and was ‘interested in the show’ from a purely artistic point
of view.
The parties began to rage furiously together. Alexander Junior did not
hesitate to say that he remembered the groom Simmons, and that his name
was John. He assuredly believed that he did remember the fact, or he
would not have said so. But Hamilton Bright remembered, with equal
certainty, that the man had more than once gone with him when he had
been consulted, as an authority, about the buying of horses for old
Robert, and that his name was James. He had called him James, and the
man had answered to his name. That was proof positive. The servants of
the accused did not know anything about it. The man had always been
called Persimmons, because he lisped a little. He had been badly kicked
by a horse during Mr. Lauderdale’s last days, and had been sent to St.
Luke’s Hospital. At the hospital it was ascertained that he had been
discharged in a few days. He had not come back to Mr. Lauderdale’s. He
probably had some good reason for not coming back. It had been one of
his duties to buy certain things for the stables. Possibly he had been
dishonest and feared discovery. Mr. Russell, privately questioned, said
that the man who had signed the will as a witness might have been a
servant, and added, a few seconds later, that as he had not been present
when the will was signed, he did not know. He was young enough to laugh
to himself at his own pretended hesitation. He had drawn up the will.
When or where it had been signed and witnessed was beyond his knowledge.
The other witnesses said that from his appearance the man might have
been a respectable servant. He was clean shaven, and might have been a
groom. They had not heard him speak, so that they did not know whether
he lisped or not. They had never seen him before, and he had been in the
room when they had been called in. They had seen him write his name,
and were prepared to swear to it. They should also recognize him if they
saw him. Mr. Russell, privately questioned, said that he had copied the
name ‘J. Simmons’ with a list of names given him by Mr. Lauderdale for
the purpose. It had not struck him that it was informal to insert only
the initial, since there was no other Simmons, a servant, in the house
at the time. He was told severely, by the Brights’ lawyer, that it was.
He said he regretted the fact, and put his hands into his pockets and
looked on again.
Crowdie, who never swore, anathematized Alexander Junior in the dialect
of the Paris studios, a language which Alexander could not have
understood. Bright, who had driven cattle in the Nacimiento Valley,
spoke differently. Aunt Maggie’s charity suddenly ceased to be
universal, and excluded both Lauderdales and Ralstons from its benefits.
From Washington, Charlotte Slayback wrote an unusually affectionate
letter to her sister Katharine, in which she playfully compared the
fair-haired aunt Maggie and Hamilton Bright to a lioness and her whelp,
and all the tribe of Lauderdales to poor little innocent lambs with blue
ribbons round their necks. Benjamin Slayback of Nevada, Member of
Congress, said nothing. He was a singular man, having mines of silver of
his own, and his solitary pleasure was in giving his wife much money,
because she had none of her own. He reflected that if she were suddenly
made rich in her own right, his pleasure would be greatly diminished.
But on the whole, he believed in respecting dead men’s wishes, in spite
of legal formalities. He had known wills made by word of mouth by men
who had bullets in them before witnesses who had put the bullets there,
but who were scrupulous in carrying out the instructions of the
departed. He was a lawyer himself, however, and took an interest in the
case. He talked of running up to New York, from Friday to Monday, to
have a look at things, and a guess at which way the cat would jump.
Then Leek, the butler, who was anxious about his annuity, found
Persimmons, the groom, in a down-town stable, and showed him how
important it was for them both that he should at once go and swear that
he was not the John Simons who had signed the will, which he immediately
did. But on being confronted with the other witnesses, they said that
the signer had been clean shaven, and about of the same height; that the
room had been dimly lighted, and that they were not prepared to swear
that Persimmons was not the signer. Then Persimmons, being indignant,
and having had two goes of whiskey with Leek, lifted up his voice, and
swore to his own identity, and gave an account of himself, and declared
that his name was not and never had been John Simons, nor J. Simmons,
nor Persimmons, because he was not a Simmons at all, but one James
Thwaite, and had changed his name when he left England, because he had
been unjustly disqualified as a jockey, for roping Mr. Cranstoun’s mare
in the Thousand Guineas. All of which further complicated matters, while
the other witnesses grew more and more conscientiously sure that he was
the man who had signed with them, and wished to see him in a brown
jacket. Persimmons owned that he possessed such a garment, but refused
to put it on to play Punch and Judy for a couple of noodles, which
almost produced a free fight in Mr. Brett’s private office, and did not
improve things at all, for the two witnesses promptly swore that this
was the same Persimmons who had signed with them, and they should have
liked to know whether a disqualified jockey were a proper person to sign
with respectable persons like themselves--they should like to know that,
once for all. And they departed, much ruffled. Privately questioned, Mr.
Russell said that he had given Mr. Lauderdale no advice as to the
selection of his witnesses. He supposed that Mr. Lauderdale, who had
made at least two other wills in the course of his life, might have been
expected to understand what was required of witnesses. The Brights’
legal adviser told him that it was the duty of a lawyer to tell his
client how to make the signatures on a will legal. Mr. Russell thrust
his hands into his pockets and looked on. But the Brights’ lawyer began
to think that things looked queer, and that he might not get the will
through probate after all. He had not expected such a check at the
outset. He had anticipated a fight over much more complicated questions.
The Brights tried to ascertain whether the court would admit the will to
probate on the testimony of the two reliable witnesses. It seemed pretty
clear that the court would not hear of it. There had been a recent case,
argued the Brights, in which the testimony of one witness had been held
to be sufficient to establish the signatures of the others, though at
least one of the others was living at the time in a remote part of the
world. They were told that this was all very well, but that in the case
quoted there had been no question of any one of the witnesses being a
legatee, still less of that one having given an assumed name and not
being an American citizen, and that furthermore, in that case, there had
been no prospect of any litigation arising between the heirs, because
there had been only one heir, and excepting two small legacies, he would
have got the fortune just as surely if the deceased had died intestate;
and finally, that the Brights had better not come into court with any
such trumped-up case, which was unkind to the Brights, because the will
was in their favour, and they were not trumping up a case, but defending
one.
Then Persimmons, finding that eighty millions of money depended upon his
having signed or not signed the will, and that no one had, as yet,
offered him so much as a drink, save Leek, the butler, went privately to
Alexander Lauderdale Junior, and made certain propositions which
immediately resulted in his being kicked into the middle of Broad Street
by an unfeeling person in brass buttons, who answered to the name of
Donald McCracken, having red hair, large bones, and a Scotch
accent--very terrible.
On the advice of friends, Persimmons attempted to recover damages for
indignities and bruises received on the premises of the Trust Company,
and the popular feeling in the stables was with him. But he got nothing
but the promise of more kicks, payable at sight, by Donald McCracken,
and the hexecrations of Mister Leek who perceived that ‘is hannuity was
vanishing before ‘is very heyes.
And now no lawyer would make bold to say in his heart whether Persimmons
had signed or had not signed, and the war raged furiously, and the
Lauderdales, being in possession of the will, swore that they would
bring it to probate without delay, and that the Brights ought to be very
much pleased at this, as they had been so anxious to get the will
probated without delay. But the Brights were less anxious to do so than
they had been a few days earlier, and looked about them for means of
strengthening testimony. Also, the whole story was well ventilated in
the newspapers.
Then came a man privately to Hamilton Bright and said that he was John
Simons, who spelled his name in the right way, and had been the witness
of the will. He was in difficulties, and was obliged to hide from his
creditors; but if a small sum of money were forthcoming--and so forth.
Bright looked at him, and he was clean-shaven, and of average height,
and wore a brown jacket. Bright hesitated, and then called the other
witnesses, who unhesitatingly swore that the man who had signed was
Persimmons and not this Simons. And nothing more was heard of the man in
the brown jacket to this day. But another clean-shaven man of average
height with another sort of brown jacket appeared the next morning, and
many more after him, very much alike. But the departure of them from the
office was much more precipitate than that of the first. And this also
was in the morning and evening papers, and still the will was
unprobated, and lay in Mr. Allen’s safe. After that the lawyers on each
side began to accuse one another of causing delay, and while they were
quarrelling about it the delay continued, and the public jeered, and the
actors at Harrigan and Hart’s introduced jokes about the Lauderdale will
which brought the house down, until Teddy Van De Water, chancing to be
in the audience, took friendly action, and requested that the name
should not be introduced in future. At this the public of the theatre
took offence, and called all the Lauderdales gilt-edged galoots, and by
other similar epithets commonly applied to the Four Hundred by a godless
population which has not the fear of millions before its eyes, but
rather a desire for the same.
About this time the quality of the cigars smoked by Alexander Lauderdale
Senior suddenly improved at a wonderful and miraculous rate, so that in
a few days he was brought by successive stages of delight from the ‘Old
Virginia Cheroot,’ at ten cents for a package of five, to the refinement
of Havanas, at thirty cents apiece, after which of his own accord he
returned to what are known as Eden Bouquets from Park and Tilford’s. He
smoked in silent surprise, not unmixed with an old man’s cunning
curiosity, and not without much internal amusement. Reporters also came
often to see him, ostensibly to make enquiries about the vast charities
in which he was chiefly interested; but in reality they came cynically
to have a look at him, and to tell the public what probabilities of life
remained to him in which to enjoy his half of the Lauderdale fortune.
Most of them came to the conclusion that he might live many years
longer.
In the Lauderdale household there was peace during these days.
Katharine had returned, and had been received by her father with
reticent affection, and nothing more had been said about her offering an
apology for her hasty speeches. From time to time the Ralstons were
spoken of in connection with the family affairs, and then Alexander
suggested to his wife that they might be asked to dinner. It would, in
his favourite phrase, tend to cement the union between the two branches
of the family which stood together in the great contention, pitted
against the Brights and the Crowdies.
They came, and their coming was an event. Even the servants took an
interest in it. Ralston and Lauderdale shook hands rather spasmodically,
and each looked at Katharine’s arm a moment later, recalling the words
they had exchanged when they had last met, and the blow and the struggle
after it, and many other things of a similar nature. The Ralstons were
very quiet, but behaved naturally and made conversation, avoiding the
subject of the will as much as possible. After dinner John and Katharine
sat in a corner for nearly half an hour, as they used to do long ago in
the early days of their love-making, and Alexander Junior seemed well
satisfied, and resolutely turned his back on them and talked with Mrs.
Ralston.
John remembered having told his mother, when Katharine was still at the
Brights’, that the next time Katharine entered her father’s house she
should go as his wife; but fate had managed matters otherwise. Until the
question of the fortune was settled, it would be as well to keep the
marriage a secret. It could only be a question of days now. That was
clear enough from Alexander’s face, which expressed his certainty of
triumph as clearly as his cold features could express anything. His
electric smile flashed more frequently than it had done for many years,
and his steely eyes glittered in the light. But he had grown thin of
late, for it was hard to wait so long before realizing the miser’s
dream.
In the night, when he lay awake, he had a wild idea which haunted him in
the dark hours, though it never crossed his brain during the daylight.
He thought of realizing a whole million in gold coin, and of revelling
in the delight of pouring it from one hand to another. He had a million
of his own, in a very realizable shape, but somehow he would not have
risked that, so long as he had not a second. Some one might rob him--one
could never tell. He should like to be alone with the gold in his own
room for one hour, and then know that it was safe. He considered whether
the gas-light in his dressing-room were strong enough to make the metal
glitter. Electric light would be better.
It was a childish thought, and in the daytime he paid no attention to
it, but at night it came upon him like hunger or thirst, drying his
lips and driving away sleep. Then, in order to quiet his brain, he had
to promise himself that he would really do the thing he longed to do as
soon as it lay in his power. But in the morning, when he stood before
his shaving-glass, and looked into his own hard eyes, he laughed
scornfully.
So things went on for a few days more. Then Alexander arose and said
that there should be no more delay, but that the will should be brought
to probate at the next session of the court, which does not sit every
day. And then the excitement grew more intense, and the Brights and the
Lauderdales avoided one another in the street. Ralston still went
regularly to the bank and saw Hamilton Bright every day. But though they
were friends still, and there had been no unfriendly word spoken between
them, they met as little as possible and merely nodded quickly when a
meeting was unavoidable. But Ralston was displeased by the notice he
attracted whenever he got up from his seat or sat down again.
Occasionally an acquaintance of one of the numerous young gentlemen in
the bank came in, and it was rarely that, after exchanging a few words
with his friend, the stranger did not turn and glance at John, where he
sat. Ralston did not like it, but he could do nothing against it.
Then came the day of judgment. Without warning the Brights produced a
man whom they believed to be the real John Simons, and who swore that he
had signed the will in the presence of the testators and in the presence
of the other witnesses.
This was a terrible blow to the Lauderdale side. But the other witnesses
had previously sworn to and signed a statement, extracted from them by
the Lauderdales, to the effect that Persimmons was the man who had
signed with them; and whether the John Simons now present, who was a
genuine John Simons of some kind, were the right one or not, they had no
intention of laying themselves open to a possible action for perjury,
and stuck to their original testimony, regardless of the fact that the
witness now confronted with them, being also clean shaven, of average
height, and possibly the possessor of a brown jacket, was a perfectly
respectable citizen of New York. At this the legal advisers of the
Brights were thunderstruck, and the court was surprised. But with the
fear of prosecution by the Lauderdales before their eyes, the other two
would not budge, though the real John Simons, whether he had signed or
not, immediately threatened to prosecute them for perjury on his own
account. But he did not look imposing enough, and they preferred that
risk to the other.
In the face of such conflicting evidence the court ruled that, the
witnesses not agreeing, the will could not be admitted to probate, and
there was clearly nothing to be done but to give judgment that the
deceased had died intestate, and that administrators must dispose of the
property between the next of kin, Alexander Lauderdale Senior, and
Katharine Lauderdale, widow of the late Admiral Ralston of the United
States Navy.
When Alexander Junior heard the judgment he laughed hysterically, and
showed his brilliant teeth. Hamilton Bright said nothing, but he, who
generally reddened under emotion, turned white to his neck and under his
ears.
“That’s all very well,” said Mr. Allen to Mr. Henry Brett, as they
walked away together. “But if he didn’t happen to destroy the will I
made for him, there may be trouble yet. I wonder where it is!”
But nobody seemed to know.