The conversation between the three was, necessarily, of so lengthy a
nature, that Lord Penlyn desired them to partake of some luncheon,
which invitation they accepted. While it was proceeding, they
continued to discuss fully all the extraordinary circumstances of
which they had any knowledge in connection with the murder of Walter
Cundall, and also of the position in which Penlyn now found himself.
"Of course, it is no use trying to disguise the fact, my lord," the
lawyer said, "that this strange will in your favour will be the
subject of much discussion. The only thing we have to do now is
to think how much need be made public. Your inheritance of his
money--even to a nobleman in your position--is a matter of importance,
and will cause a great deal of remark."
"Of course, I understand that," Penlyn answered. "But you say we have
to think of 'how much' need be made public. What part of this unhappy
story is there that you imagine need not be known?"
Mr. Fordyce thought a moment, with his bushy eyebrows deeply knitted,
then he said:
"I do not see why any one need be told of the relationship existing
between you. It is no one's business after all; and it was evidently
his wish that, for your sake, it should never be known."
"Naturally," Penlyn replied, "I do not want my affairs told to every
one, and made a subject of universal gossip; but then, what reason is
to be given for his having left me all his money?"
"It might be hinted that you were connections, though distant ones,"
Mr. Fordyce said.
"Would it not appear strange that, in such circumstances, we knew so
little of one another?"
"Yes," the lawyer said, "unless it were said that you were only
recently acquainted with the fact."
"But the will is dated three years ago!" Stuart remarked. "Then I
scarcely know what to suggest," Mr. Fordyce said.
They talked it over and over again, but they could arrive at no
determination; and at last it was resolved that the best thing would
be to let matters take their course. No announcement would be publicly
made, and though, of course, it would, eventually leak out that Lord
Penlyn was Walter Cundall's heir, the world would have to put its own
construction upon the fact. Or again, other men had before now made
eccentric wills, taking sudden fancies to people who were strangers to
them and leaving them all their money. It would be best that Walter
Cundall's will should also come to be regarded in that category.
"After all," Stuart said, "you were acquaintances, and mixed in the
same circle. Even the fact that you both loved the same woman goes for
something, and that must be sufficient for those who take any interest
in the matter."
He had come into the house with innumerable suspicions against Lord
Penlyn, suspicions aroused by his being the inheritor of Cundall's
property, and also by the fact that he and the dead man had both loved
the same woman, and with a strange feeling in his heart that, when he
stood before him, he would stand before a murderer. He had also
remembered that conversation in the club about the peculiarity of the
dagger, or knife, with which Cundall must have been slain, and his
recollection of the hesitating way in which Penlyn had answered, had
added to his suspicions. But, when he had seen the genuine tears of
sorrow that had been shed over the will, those suspicions vanished,
and he told himself that it was not in this man that the murderer
would be found. And, if this new-formed idea had required any
strengthening, it would have received it when those importunate and
threatening letters had been read from the unknown person signing
himself, _Corot_. There was the man, who, if in England, must be found
at all costs. But how to find him was the question.
"There is one to whom I must, at least, disclose my relationship with
Walter," Penlyn said, and they both noticed that, for the first time,
he spoke of his brother by his Christian name. "I must tell Miss
Raughton the position we stood in to one another."
Stuart, with feelings of a very different nature now in his heart from
those with which he had first regarded him, asked him if he thought it
was wise to do so? Would she not think that, standing in the position
of his affianced wife and having also been beloved by his brother, she
should have been the first to be told of the bond between them?
"It may not be wise," Penlyn said sadly, and with a weary look upon
his face, "and it may be that she will think I have deceived her--as,
unhappily, I have done by my silence--but still I must tell her. With
her, at least, there must be nothing more suppressed."
Then he told them of the strange dream that she had had (even
mentioning that she had said she could recognise the form, if not the
face, of the man who sprang upon him), and of the vow she had made him
take to endeavour to discover the murderer.
"If dreams were of the slightest importance, which they are not," Mr.
Fordyce said, "this one would go to prove that _Corot_ is not the
murderer, since it is hardly likely that she has ever known him.
Still, it is a strange coincidence that she should have dreamt of his
death on the very night that it took place."
"The idea of knowing the form, or figure, of the man is nothing,"
Stuart said. "If there was any likelihood of there being anything in
that, it would also be the case that we should have to look upon Lady
Chesterton's conservatory as the spot where it happened, as it was
there she dreamt she saw him. But we know that he was killed in St.
James' Park."
"If the detectives can only discover this man _Corot_," Penlyn said,
"we might find out what he was doing on that night."
"If they cannot find him," Stuart said, "it shall not be for the want
of being paid to look for him."
"I would give every farthing of the fortune my brother has left me to
discover him, or to find the real assassin!" Penlyn said.
They discussed, after this, the way in which the information that had
come into their possession, from the three letters written in Spanish,
should be conveyed to the detectives, and Stuart arranged to take the
matter into his hands.
"Leave it to me," he said, "I happen to know two or three of them; in
fact, I have already communicated with Dobson, who understands a great
deal about foreigners. He has done all the big extradition cases for a
long while, and knows the exact spots in which men of different
nationalities are to be found. If _Corot_ is in London, Dobson, or one
of his men, will be sure to discover him."
"And you think I had better not appear in the matter at all?" Penlyn
asked, appealing to both of them.
"Not at present, certainly," Mr. Fordyce said; "as Mr. Stuart is at
present acting in it, it had better be left to him. Mr. Cundall's
agents in the City have placed everything in his hands, and I suppose
you, as his heir, will have no objection to do so also."
"I shall be extremely grateful to Mr. Stuart if he will hold the same
position towards me that he filled with my brother," Penlyn said; "and
if he wants any assistance, my friend and secretary, Mr. Smerdon, will
be happy to render it him."
"I will do all I can," Stuart said quietly, "to assist you, both in
regard to his affairs and to finding the guilty man if possible."
Then Lord Penlyn made a suggestion that his own lawyer, Mr. Bell,
should also be brought into communication with Mr. Fordyce and Stuart,
and the former said that he would call upon him the next day.
"There will then be five of us interested in finding the assassin,"
Penlyn said, "for I am quite sure that both Mr. Bell and Philip
Smerdon will go hand in hand with us in this search. Surely amongst
us, and with the aid of the detectives, who ought to work well for the
reward I will pay them, we shall succeed in tracking him."
"I hope to God we shall!" Stuart said, and Penlyn solemnly exclaimed,
"Amen!"
They were about to separate now, after an interview that had lasted
for some hours, when Penlyn said:
"To-morrow is the day of his funeral. If it were possible--if you
think that I could do so, I should wish to be present at it."
The others thought a moment, Stuart looking at Mr. Fordyce as though
waiting for him to answer this suggestion, but, instead of doing so,
he only said: "What do you think, Mr. Stuart?"
Stuart still hesitated, and seemed to be pondering deeply, and then he
said:
"I think, if it will not be too great a denial to you, if you will not
feel that you are failing in the last duty you can pay him, you should
remain away. You could only go as chief mourner if you go at all, and
that will render you too conspicuous, and would set every tongue in
London wagging. Can you resign yourself to staying away?"
"I must resign myself, I suppose," the other answered. "Perhaps, too,
it is better I should do so; for, when I should see his coffin being
lowered into its grave, the memory of his nobility and unselfishness,
and his cruel end, would come back to me with such force that I fear I
should no longer be master of myself."
So Lord Penlyn did not see the last of his brother's remains; and Mr.
Stuart, Mr. Fordyce, and two of his agents made up the list of his
mourners. But behind the carriage that conveyed them, came countless
other carriages belonging to men and women who had known and liked the
dead man, and in some cases their owners were in them; amongst others
Sir Paul Raughton being in his. The wreaths of flowers that were piled
above his coffin also came from scores of friends, and afforded great
interest to the enormous mob that followed the victim's funeral, and
made a decorous holiday of the occasion. It is not often that a
millionaire is stabbed to death in London by an unknown hand; and many
of those, who had read with intense excitement of the murder,
determined to see the last obsequies of the victim. Amongst those
wreaths were two formed of splendid white roses, one of which bore the
words worked into it, "We shall meet again" and the initial letter
"I," and another the words, "I remember" followed by the letter "G."
And late that night, as the time was, fast approaching for the
cemetery to be closed, Lord Penlyn walked swiftly up the path leading
to the new-made grave, and, seeing that there was no one near, knelt
down and prayed silently by it. Then he whispered, "I will never rest
until you are avenged. If you can hear my vow in heaven, hear me now
swear this." And, taking a handful of the mould from the grave, he
wrapped it in his handkerchief, and passed out again into the world.