THE EXIT OF SCOTT, THE SECRETARY
One of the first duties which the secretary was called upon to
perform, during his brief stay at Fair Oaks, was to make a copy of
the lost will. He still retained in his possession the stenographic
notes of the original document as it had been dictated by Hugh
Mainwaring on that last morning of his life, and it was but the
work of an hour or two to again transcribe them in his clear
chirography.
Engaged in this work, he was seated at the large desk in the
tower-room, which had that morning been opened for use for the first
time since the death of its owner. He wrote rapidly, and the
document was nearly completed when Mr. Whitney and Ralph Mainwaring
together entered the adjoining room.
"Egad!" he heard the latter exclaim, angrily, "if that blasted
scoundrel thinks he has any hold on me, or that he can keep me on
the rack as he did Hugh, he'll find he has made the biggest mistake
of his life. It is nothing but a blackmailing scheme, and I've more
than half a mind to sift the whole matter to the bottom and land
that beggarly impostor where he belongs."
"I hardly know just what to advise under the circumstances," Mr.
Whitney answered, quietly, "for I, naturally, have some personal
feeling in this matter, and I am forced to believe, Mr. Mainwaring,
that there is something back of all this which neither you nor I
would care to have given publicity. But, laying aside that
consideration, I am of the opinion that it might not be to your
interest to push this matter too closely."
"On what grounds, sir, do you base your opinion?" Mr. Mainwaring
demanded.
The attorney's reply, however, was lost upon Scott, whose attention
had been suddenly arrested by the imprint of a peculiar signature
across one corner of the blotter upon which he was drying his work,
now completed. Instantly, oblivious to everything else, he
carefully examined the blotter. It was a large one, fastened to
the top of the desk, and had been in use but a comparatively short
time. It bore traces both of Hugh Mainwaring's writing and of
his own, but this name, standing out boldly on one corner, was
utterly unlike either. Nor did it resemble any of the signatures
attached to the will on that memorable day when the desk with its
paraphernalia had been last used.
Considerably perplexed, Scott suddenly recalled a small pocket
mirror which he had seen in the desk. This he speedily found, and,
having placed it at the right angle, leaned over to get a view of
the name as it had been originally written. As he did so, he
caught sight of some faint lines above the signature which he had
not observed, but which were plainly visible in the mirror. It was
well for the secretary that he was alone, for, as he read the
signature with the words outlined above, he was spellbound. For a
moment he seemed almost paralyzed, unable to move. His brain
whirled, and, when he at last sank back in his chair, his face was
blanched and he felt giddy and faint from the discovery which he
had made. Gradually he became conscious of his surroundings. Again
he heard, as in a dream, the conversation in the adjoining room.
The attorney was speaking.
"I do not at present feel at liberty to give the source of my
information, but I can assure you it is perfectly reliable, and my
informant would never have made such an assertion unless he had ample
authority to back it up."
"I don't care a rap for your information or its source," the other
interrupted, impatiently. "The whole thing is simply preposterous.
The estate descended regularly to Hugh Mainwaring, and from him to
our own family as next of kin. You can see for yourself that to
talk of any other claimants having prior rights is an utter
absurdity."
"Had not Hugh Mainwaring an elder brother?"
"He had; but you must be aware that he died a great many years ago."
"But had that elder brother no issue?"
"None living," Mr. Mainwaring replied, coldly. Then added, in the
same tone, "Even had there been, that fact would have no bearing on
this case, Mr. Whitney. The entire estate was transferred to Hugh
Mainwaring by legal process before the death of his brother, he and
his heirs having been forever disinherited, so that it is the same
as though he had never existed."
While he was speaking, the secretary entered the library, his pallor
and unusual expression attracting Mr. Whitney's attention. In
response to a glance of inquiry from the latter, however, he merely
said,--
"The copy is completed. You will find it on the desk," and passed
from the library into the hall.
Still wondering at his appearance, Mr. Whitney proceeded to the
tower-room, and a moment later both gentlemen were absorbed in the
perusal of the duplicate of the lost will; but afterwards the
attorney recalled that, on taking the document from the desk, he
had noticed that the large blotter covering the top had been removed
and replaced by a new one.
There was no perceptible change in Scott's appearance during the
remainder of the day, except that he seemed more than usually
thoughtful, sometimes to the verge of abstraction, but, in reality,
his mind was so preoccupied with endless doubts and surmises
regarding his recent discovery that he found it exceedingly difficult
to concentrate his attention upon the work required of him. That
afternoon, however, while engaged in looking through some important
documents belonging to Hugh Mainwaring, kept at the city offices,
a cablegram was handed him, addressed to himself personally, from
Barton & Barton, a well-known legal firm in London. The despatch
itself caused him little surprise, as he had been in correspondence
with this firm for more than a year; but the contents of the message
were altogether unexpected, and left him in a state of bewilderment.
It read,--
"Have you met J. Henry Carruthers, of London, supposed to have
sailed ten days since, or can you give us his whereabouts?"
Fortunately, Scott was alone, Ralph Mainwaring and the attorney
being in the private offices, and he had plenty of opportunity to
recover from his surprise. For half an hour he revolved the
matter in his thoughts, wondering whether this had any bearing
upon the question which for the last few hours he had been trying
to solve. A little later he sent the following reply:
"Person mentioned seen on 7th instant. No trace since. You have
my letter of 8th instant. Cable instructions."
As the Mainwaring carriage appeared at the offices at four o'clock,
to convey the gentlemen to Fair Oaks, Mr. Whitney was surprised to
find the secretary still engaged at his desk.
"If you will excuse me," the latter said, pleasantly, "I will not
go out to Fair Oaks this evening. I have some unfinished work here,
and I will remain in the city to-night."
Upon entering the offices the next day, however, the attorney found
the following note addressed to himself:
"Mr. WHITNEY.
"DEAR SIR,--I regret to be compelled to inform you that you will
have to look for another assistant, as important business calls
me away for an indefinite period. Do not give yourself any
trouble concerning the salary which you kindly offered me. I am
not in need of it, and have only been too glad to render you the
little assistance within my power, knowing, as I do, that you have
no easy case on your hands.
"Trusting we shall meet in the future, I am, with great esteem,
"Very truly yours,
"H. SCOTT.
As Mr. Whitney read and reread this note, the words of the detective
regarding the private secretary were recalled to his mind, and he
muttered,--
"Yes, Merrick was right. It is very evident the young man is not
'looking for a job;' but I'll be blessed if I know what to think
of him!"
Upon Mr. Whitney's return to Fair Oaks, he found the guests assembled
on the veranda, overlooking the river, Mr. Merrick, who had just
returned from a few days' absence, being also included in the company.
There were many exclamations of surprise and considerable comment
when Mr. Whitney told of the sudden disappearance of the secretary.
"Now, that is too bad!" cried Edith Thornton. "He was so
interesting, and we were all beginning to like him so much."
"I don't know that any of us were so charmed with him as one might
be led to suppose from your remark, Edith," said Isabel Mainwaring,
with a disdainful glance towards the attorney, who had seated
himself beside Miss Carleton; "but here, almost any one will answer
for a diversion, and he was really quite entertaining."
"It is not to be expected that you would see or appreciate his good
points," said her brother, with half a sneer; "but Scott is a fine
fellow and a gentleman, and I shall miss him awfully."
Miss Carleton remained silent; but for some reason, unexplainable
to herself, she was conscious of a vague sense of disappointment and
injury. She would not admit to herself that she was troubled because
Scott had gone, it was the manner of his departure. Surely, after
the friendship and confidence she had shown him, he might at least
have sent some word of farewell, instead of leaving as he had,
apparently without a thought of her. However, she chatted graciously
with Mr. Whitney, though, all the while, a proud, dark face with
strangely beautiful eyes persistently forced itself before her mental
vision, nearly obliterating the smiling face of the attorney.
Meanwhile, Ralph Mainwaring was giving the detective his views on
the subject.
"I, for one, am not sorry that he has followed the example of the
coachman and taken himself off. It is my opinion," he continued,
in impressive tones, "that we will yet find he had reasons for
leaving in this manner."
"Undoubtedly!" Merrick replied, with equal emphasis.
"Now, that's just where you're wrong, governor," said young
Mainwaring. "Scott is as good as gold. There is no sneak about
him, either; and if he had reasons for leaving as he has, they were
nothing to his discredit; you can stake your last shilling on that!"
"Oh, I know he has pulled the wool over your eyes," said his father;
"but he has never tried his smooth games on me; he knows I can see
through him. I detest him. One of your typical American swells!
Just what one would expect to find in a country where a common clerk
is allowed to associate with gentlemen!"
"But, begging your pardon, Mr. Mainwaring," the detective interposed,
quietly, "Mr. Scott is not an American. He has lived less than two
years in this country."
A chorus of exclamations followed this statement.
"Not an American! Then he must be an Englishman," cried Miss
Carleton, her sparkling eyes unconsciously betraying her pleasure at
the discovery.
"Merrick, are you sure of that?" inquired Mr. Whitney, in
astonishment.
"Certainly, or I would never have made the assertion I did."
Ralph Mainwaring suddenly turned the conversation. "How about that
will business, Mr. Whitney? When will that come off?"
"The petition was filed this afternoon, and will be granted a
hearing some time next week; I have not yet learned the day."
"And then will you gentlemen be ready to start for home?" Mrs.
Mainwaring inquired, a touch of impatience in her voice.
"Well, by my soul! I should say not," laughed Mr. Thornton, before
her husband could reply. "It will probably take a number of months,
my dear madam, to settle up this estate, even if there should be no
contest; and if the case is contested, it may drag on for years, eh,
Mr. Whitney?"
"That will depend upon circumstances. A contest would, of course,
delay the case, perhaps for several months; but I am not aware of
any contestants with sufficient means for continuing it the length
of time you mention."
"Mercy me!" exclaimed Mrs. Mainwaring, addressing her husband; "do
you and Hugh intend to remain here all that time?"
"Our stay will probably be somewhat indefinite," he replied,
evasively; "but that is no reason why you and the young ladies need
remain against your will."
"Indeed! Why could you not have said as much before? Neither
Isabel nor I care to remain here a day longer than is necessary;
we have simply been awaiting your pleasure. Wilson, bring me the
morning papers; I want to see what boats are expected. We will
take the first steamer home. Mr. Thornton, will you and the young
ladies accompany us, or do you prefer to remain in exile a while
longer?"
"Well," replied that gentleman, smiling genially, "speaking for
myself, I would more than half like to stay and see this thing
through; but the ladies are in the majority, and I will abide by
their decision. How is it, Edith? I suppose, as the novelists
say, you will be 'torn by conflicting emotions.'"
"You horrid old papa! Of course, if auntie is going back, I shall
go with her. What do you say, Winifred?"
"I have very little choice, one way or the other," Miss Carleton
replied, more quietly than was usual for her; "whatever you and
Uncle William decide, will suit me."
"Ab, here are the papers!" said Mrs. Mainwaring, adjusting her
eye-glasses. "These dreadful American dailies!" she exclaimed, as
she scanned the pages; "one never knows where to find anything. Ah,
here it is, and just what we want! The 'Campania' sails Thursday,
at three o'clock. That will suit us exactly."
"To-morrow! so soon!" exclaimed two or three voices.
"Certainly," she replied, rising. "I shall have the maids begin
packing at once; and, Mr. Thornton, I shall instruct Wilson to
attend directly to your luggage, for you would never think of it
until within an hour of sailing."
Her departure seemed the signal for the breaking up of the little
company. Mr. Whitney lingered a few moments at Miss Carleton's
side, with a few murmured words of regret that she was to leave so
soon, to which she listened courteously, though making little
response. After he had gone she remained standing where he had
left her, gazing dreamily out on the river and the distant bluffs.
Merrick, slowly sauntering up and down the veranda, had observed
the whole scene, and now watched the fair young face with a
suggestion of a smile in his kindly eyes.
"H'm!" he soliloquized; "Whitney is a bigger fool than I've given
him credit for if he thinks he stands any show in that direction.
If I'm not mistaken, I know which way the wind blows, and it's
dollars to doughnuts she'll lose that far-away expression of hers
before she's been aboard the 'Campania' many hours. I'd like to be
aboard myself and watch the transformation scene."
The attorney's voice here broke in upon his cogitations.
"I say, Merrick, that was a regular bomb you threw at Mainwaring
with regard to young Scott! How did you discover he was an
Englishman?"
"I very easily ascertained that he was not an American; that he was
of English descent followed as a matter of course. I am not sure
whether he is of English birth."
"You seem to be keeping an eye on him."
"It is my business just now to be posted regarding every one
associated with this place. I've been keeping an eye on you for
the last thirty minutes."
The attorney colored, and hastily reverted to the original topic of
conversation. "Have you seen anything of him since he left us?"
"Since his resignation of the salary as well as the position of
private 'secretary?" queried the detective, half to himself, with
a tone of amusement, which Mr. Whitney failed to comprehend. "Yes;
I met him to-day at the Murray Hill."
"At the Murray Hill! Is he stopping there?"
"He evidently was this morning. So was I. Possibly we were both
'stopping' on the same business; I cannot say."
The detective's face was a study, as was also the attorney's.
"I supposed," said the latter, after a short pause, "from the tenor
of his note, that he intended to leave the city at once."
"Possibly he does," replied the other, enigmatically, and, having
consulted his watch, turned abruptly in another direction.
"Say, what will you do about him? Shall you watch him?" Mr.
Whitney called after the vanishing figure.
Merrick looked back over his shoulder with a peculiar smile. "I
shall not lose track of him," he said, slowly; "he is too
interesting."