In spite of the very good case which Priscilla had made out for herself
to Jack’s mother, without deviating from strict accuracy more widely
than could easily be pardoned by even the severest moralist, and in
spite also of the still better case which was made out for her by some
of the contributors to that holiday page of the newspapers, she felt
that she had considerable cause for uneasiness as the weeks went by and
Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb, having returned from Scotland or Homburg,
were busying themselves about the nullity suit. Incidentally, they were
concerned in two very dainty divorce suits and three libel actions which
they hoped to get on the list before Christmas. They let Jack know that
a defence had been entered to the nullity suit by Mr. Marcus Blaydon, so
that the petitioner should not have a walk-over, whatever might happen;
and they urged on Mr. Wingfield the necessity for finding out whether
all that Captain Lyman knew would be in favour of Priscilla or of Marcus
Blaydon.
It was apparent that what Captain Lyman knew would be an important
factor in the case; but what he did know he had no chance of revealing,
for it seemed as if Captain Lyman was lost. His name was in the registry
of certificated mariners, but it was there as the master of the
barque _Kingsdale_, and the owners of that ill-fated craft, on being
communicated with by Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb, stated that he was
no longer in their service, nor did they know whose employment he had
entered after the loss of his vessel. During the whole of the month of
August the solicitors had, through their agents, been endeavouring to
trace Lyman, but they had met with no success. The barque _Kingsdale_
had been owned in Quebec, and he had been seen in that city in the month
of June, but since then his whereabouts had been vague; and the clerk
who was ready to rush off at a moment’s notice in search of him, and to
fathom the mystery of what he knew, began to feel that he stood a very
good chance of being deprived of his excursion.
Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb were beginning to write rather grave
letters, They reminded Jack that they had absolutely no evidence to show
that Blaydon had gone away from the English gaol to meet another woman
than his wife; and as this was an important fact to establish both in
the nullity suit and the possible divorce suit, and as, apparently,
no one but Captain Lyman could give evidence on this point--a question
which had not yet been answered--they thought no stone should be left
unturned in order to find him and learn from his own lips what it was
that he knew, and how much of it he did actually know, and whether
his knowledge should take the form of an affidavit, or be carefully
suppressed.
As a matter of fact Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb gave Mr. Wingfield to
understand that the success of their case would be seriously jeopardized
unless they could place some evidence before the judge bearing upon the
object of that trip made by Marcus Blaydon across the Atlantic.
Jack did not question the accuracy of their opinion in this matter; but
what was he to do to provide them with the evidence they required? It
was all very well for them to write about the necessity for leaving no
stone unturned in order to find the extent of Captain Lyman’s knowledge;
but how could he, Jack Wingfield, travel through the world during the
next couple of months, turning over stones to see if Captain Lyman was
concealed beneath one of them?
He felt greatly disappointed, but he took good care that Priscilla
remained in ignorance of the purport of Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb’s
letters, and every day made it harder for him to keep her in this
condition.
One afternoon he drove with her into Framsby, and their carriage stopped
at a shop almost exactly opposite to the Corn Exchange, just when
the frequenters of that institution were standing in groups along the
pavement on the one day of the week when the Exchange was open. Business
had been exceptionally good that day, and most of the farmers and
millers were in a good humour. As soon as the rumour went round that the
handsome lady in the carriage was the daughter of Farmer Wadhurst who
was “standing up for her rights”--that was the _precis_ that reached
them of the “curious case” of the newspaper page--they took off their
hats and gave her a hearty cheer.
This was not the first time that Priscilla had been so greeted in
Framsby; but such proofs of the position she occupied in the hearts of
the people, though gratifying, when considered from one standpoint,
did not throw the light that was needed upon the question of what stone
would, when turned, reveal the form of Captain Lyman ready to make an
affidavit that should have weight with a judge. So while Priscilla drove
home gratified by the kindly spirit shown by her sympathisers, Jack
could not help feeling that he would gladly have exchanged it all for
a single statement, made in the presence of a commissioner for taking
oaths, bearing out the admission of Marcus Blaydon in regard to that
woman on the other side of the Atlantic.
Of course Priscilla quickly perceived that he was becoming uneasy, and
equally as a matter of course she found out the cause of the uneasiness.
He told her something of what Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb had
communicated to him, though he did not go so far as to let her know that
they considered the absent evidence to be vital to the success of the
petition.
She took his explanation without saying more than a word or two.
“If Captain Lyman is not to be found we cannot have his evidence,
whether for us or against us,” she said. “And that being so, we shall
have to do our best without it. I have great faith in Sir Edward’s power
of cross-examining. If he puts that man in the witness-box he should be
able to get him to confess as much as he did to you.”
Jack did not tell her that Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb had explained to
him that perhaps Marcus Blaydon might be prevented from going into the
box by his own advisers, who might think it advisable to let the judge
say whether or not she had succeeded in establishing her petition when
she had been examined before him. It was well known that a very strong
case indeed required to be made out in favour of pronouncing a marriage
null and void before a judge would make such a pronouncement. So Messrs.
Liscomb and Liscomb had told him; but he kept this information to
himself.
It was with that phrase about leaving no stone unturned ringing in his
mind, as if it were Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb’s telephone bell, that
he sent off to the governor of the prison where Marcus Blaydon had been
incarcerated the postcard which contained upon its gummy surface the
imprint of the finger-tips of the man who had visited the Manor claiming
Priscilla as his wife. In spite of the absolute certainty of Priscilla
that he was Marcus Blaydon, Jack thought that there was just a chance
that he was an impostor. Even within his experience there had been
cases of men impersonating others with a view to blackmail or to an
inheritance. There was just a chance that this man was not the real
Marcus Blaydon, but a scoundrel of a slightly different pattern.
He sent the card in a small box, enclosing with it a letter asking the
governor to be good enough to let him know if the finger-prints that
it bore were those of Marcus Blaydon, who had been incarcerated in the
prison for over a year.
With the lapse of only a few posts he received a communication from the
acting-governor of the prison stating that he had sent on the card to
the Criminal Investigation Department, and that the reply had been that
the prints were those of Marcus Blaydon.
He told Priscilla what he had done, and what was the result, and she
shook her head and smiled.
“It was very clever of you to get the finger-prints as you did,” she
said. “But I knew that I could not be mistaken in the man.”
“There was only the ghost of a chance that the man was an impostor,”
said Jack; “but I felt bound to leave no stone--oh, there’s that phrase
buzzing about me again!”
“You were quite right, dear Jack,” she said. “No stone should be left
unturned in digging the foundation for our case.”
Nothing further passed between them on this point; but two days later
Jack received a private letter from the governor of the prison, stating
that he had just resumed his duty after taking his annual leave, and
that he had seen the letter which his deputy had answered.
“I can easily understand that you should be interested in an enquiry
of the nature of that suggested by your communication,” he added; “and
though the reply which was sent to you may not have been just the one
for which you hoped, yet I think it possible that it may be in my power
to give you some assistance in any investigation you or your lawyers may
be making in regard to Marcus Blaydon. It would not be regular to do so
by letter, but if you could make it convenient to pay me a visit I might
be able to place you in possession of one or two interesting--perhaps
they may even turn out to be important--facts which came to my knowledge
respecting the man when he was in my charge.
“When I read in the English newspapers, which I received in Switzerland,
the particulars of the case in which Marcus Blaydon played so sinister a
part, I made up my mind to place myself in communication with you; and
I would have done so even if your letters had not been put into my hands
on my return.”
“It may mean a great deal or it may mean nothing,” remarked Jack,
passing this communication on to Priscilla.
Of course, Priscilla felt inclined, on a first reading of the note,
to attribute a great deal of importance to it. “Why should the prison
official take the trouble to write asking you to meet him if he was not
sure that what he had to say was vital?” she asked Jack. But a second
reading caused her to be less sanguine.
“It is just as you say it is: the man is guarded in his words; they may
mean a great deal or they may mean very little,” she said. “But he is
in an official position, and no doubt he has had experience of curious
cases and of everything that has a bearing upon them; and I can’t think
that he would have taken the trouble to write to you or to ask you to
visit him unless he had something important to tell you.”
“He says it may turn out to be important,” said Jack; “but just now he
thinks that it is only interesting. I am inclined to believe that it
will never get beyond that qualification. You see, if he himself had
thought that what he knew was vital to our interests he would have
telegraphed to us the moment the first newspapers came into his hands.”
“Yes, that is so, I can see plainly; but anyhow, you’ll go, will you
not?” said Priscilla. She could see plainly that J ack was a little
annoyed because nothing had come of his cleverly-contrived trap in
obtaining the man’s finger-prints. He was not disposed to have any
extravagant hopes of important information coming from a quarter that
had failed him before. She knew that he was unreasonable; but she also
knew that it was quite natural for him to be affected as he was by the
failure of the authorities to say that the finger-prints were those of
some man other than Marcus Blaydon.
“Great Gloriana! Of course I shall go to see him, and you will come with
me,” cried Jack. “No matter what he has to say to us, I feel that no
stone----”
Priscilla clapt her hands upon her ears and rushed out of the room.
The county gaol to which Marcus Blaydon had been committed was a long
way from Framsby. To reach it necessitated a journey to London, and
thence into the heart of the Midlands. Passing through London they
called upon Messrs. Liscomb and Liscomb to tell them of their mission,
and the junior partner, who was acquainted with Major Crosbie, the
governor of the prison, became greatly interested in the letter which
he had written to Jack--so interested, indeed, that if the duty had
not been laid upon him of receiving professional visits from two most
promising prospective co-respondents and three defendants of newspaper
libel actions, to say nothing of sundry uncompromising plaintiffs, he
would, he declared, accompany his clients into the very presence of
Major Crosbie.
“Whatever he may have to communicate, you may be sure that it will have
a bearing upon the case,” he said. “He will put you on the track of
evidence--real evidence--not merely what somebody said that somebody
told somebody else. You know where we are deficient in this particular.”
“Yes,” said Jack quickly, being afraid that he might go on to express
himself strongly in Priscilla’s presence regarding the need for evidence
on the object of Blaydon’s trip across the Atlantic. “Yes, we know
pretty well how we stand. Any proof that Blaydon was a blackguard will
be received with gratitude.”
“That’s it,” said Mr. Liscomb.
“I thought Sir Edward’s cross-examination might be expected to do great
things for us in this way,” said Priscilla.
“It may do something, but not a great deal,” said Liscomb. “Judges are
fond of facts; they don’t care much about cross-examinations, however
brilliant the newspapers may call them. You can easily see how the
fellow, now that he has been put on his guard by your hint that you mean
to try to connect his voyage with a woman, will be careful to have a
story ready to account for all his movements, and he has only to stick
to it to pull through, however Sir Edward may browbeat him. If you can
bring the woman into court we shall have him in the cart.”
That was all that Mr. Liscomb had to say to them, and they began to
feel that they might as well have gone on direct to the gaol instead of
calling upon him. And that was exactly what Mr. Liscomb himself thought.
The honour and glory of being associated with the “curious case”
were not inordinately estimated by him; the firm had been so closely
connected with such a number of other curious cases ever since he had
become a partner.
They found Major Crosbie waiting for them in a private room at the
governor’s house. As he was somewhat irregular in offering them
the information of which he was possessed, he was too strict a
disciplinarian to receive them in an official apartment. Within the
precincts of his private residence he felt himself at liberty to talk as
he pleased. A conscience capable of such reasonable differentiation is
most valuable in an official.
He waved aside in a graceful way Mr. Wingfield’s expression of gratitude
for the invitation to this interview.
“There is no need to say a word on this point, Mr. Wingfield,” he said.
“Your case is a most curious one.”
Jack confessed that he had heard it so described.
“A very curious one. It had been for nearly a week in the papers before
I had a chance of hearing anything about it; but when I heard the name
Marcus Blaydon I at once recollected some particulars which had come
under my notice officially in connection with that man Blaydon. You are
aware that it is part of my duty to read not only those letters which
the prisoners in my charge write to persons outside, but also those
which are received for themselves. Now, Blaydon received while in
this prison four letters, all of which had been addressed to him at
Prangborough, where, as you doubtless know, he lived.”
Priscilla assented. Prangborough was the town in which her Aunt Emily
lived.
“They had been addressed to him at Prangborough, and from there were
forwarded to the prison. I find by reference to my official diary that
three of them came from apparently the same correspondent and were
posted at the same place--London in Canada; they were signed
‘Lucy.’ The fourth was from a man, evidently a captain in the merchant
service, named Horace Lyman. It had been posted at Sunderland, and was
received by me a short time before the expiration of the man’s term of
imprisonment.”
“That is the letter which would be of importance to us if it told us
what is the present address of Captain Lyman,” said Jack.
Major Crosbie shook his head.
“You cannot expect a letter written nearly seven months ago to state
positively what is the writer’s address to-day,” said he with a laugh.
“But the contents of that letter made it clear that the writer and his
correspondent were not on the best terms; and that the reason of this
was the ill-treatment by Blaydon of the writer’s sister, whose name was
Lucy.”
“And the woman’s letters--did they make anything clear?”
“The woman’s three letters made a good deal clear. The one of the
earliest date suggested very clearly that she was the man’s wife.”
“What, Blaydon’s wife!” cried Jack. “That would be the best possible
news for us.”
“So it occurred to me,” said Major Crosbie. “If the man had been
married--as the letters suggested he was--some years before he came
under my notice--under our notice, I should say--and if his wife was
alive, as she must have been when those letters of hers were written,
the curious case becomes a very simple case indeed.”
“And the letters suggested marriage?” said Priscilla, interrogatively.
“They undoubtedly suggested marriage--at least, they would have done
so to someone with a smaller experience than I have had of such
correspondence. But from what I know I should say that to assume that
because a woman addresses a man as ‘My own husband,’ she is that man’s
lawful wife, would be a very unwise thing to do. Such a form of address,
I have learnt by experience, comes quite naturally to the woman who
is not married to the man but who should be on the grounds of the most
elementary morality. It is the form used by the woman who has been
deserted by the man, but who hopes to get back to her former place in
his affection. She seems to think, poor thing, that if she assumes the
title of wife whenever she has the chance, she will in time come to
feel that she is his wife. I am not sure if you recognize the--the--what
shall I call it?--the naturalness of all this.”
He glanced first at Jack and then at Priscilla, and paused as if for
their acquiescence in his suggestion.
They acquiesced. Jack nodded and muttered “Quite so.” Priscilla said:
“I am sure it is natural--it is quite plausible. But it might be
possible, might it not? to gather from the rest of the letters whether
the woman was trying to bring back a husband or a lover.”
“It is sometimes a good deal more difficult to do so than you could
imagine,” replied the Governor. “I used to think that I could
determine this point by the character of the letters; the most
earnest letters--those that were the most loving--the most full of
endearment--were written by the woman to her lover; the tamest--the most
formal, with a touch of nasty upbraiding, came from the legal wife to
her legal husband. That was the general principle on which I drew my
conclusions; but I soon found out how easy it was to make a mistake by
building on such foundations only. You see, women differ so amazingly
in temper and in temperament, leaving education and ‘the complete
letter-writer’ out of the question altogether, that a wife who is not
quite a wife may be carried away by her feelings of the moment, and say
something so bitter that you could only believe it to come from a true
wife, and the true wife may be really in love with her husband, and
ready to condone his lapses without a word of reproach. That is how it
is quite easy for one to make a mistake in trying to differentiate on
the basis of correspondence only.”
“Quite so,” muttered Jack.
“I can quite believe that,” said Priscilla. “But about these particular
letters?”
She thought it quite as well to bring back Major Crosbie from his
consideration of the abstract to that of the concrete. She could see
that Jack was becoming slightly impatient at the somewhat cynical
expression of the Governor’s experiences.
“I was just returning to the letters written to Marcus Blaydon,” said
he. “It was necessary for me to state to you the difficulty which I find
in the way of coming to any legitimate conclusion on the point which
concerns you most, in order to prevent you from falling into the mistake
of believing that you are quite safe, when investigation may prove that
you have assumed too much.”
“Of course--quite right,” said Jack. “But you believe that the woman was
his wife?”
The Governor caressed his chin with a neat forefinger.
“I think, after going very carefully once more over the copy of the
letters, that there would be sufficient in any one of them to allow a
Grand Jury to bring in a true bill,” he replied.
Jack saw that the man described very neatly what was in his mind.
But Priscilla had never served on a Grand Jury. She required further
explanation.
“What I mean to say,” resumed Major Crosbie, “is that the letters
suggest a relationship which may prove on investigation to be a legal
union contracted three years ago in Canada. You observe how cautious I
am?”
“I do indeed,” replied Priscilla, and she did not acquiesce merely out
of politeness.
“I should be reluctant to say one word that might lead you to expect too
much,” said he. “My experience leads me to look for the worst and not
the best in men; but I should be reluctant to say that the letters
signed ‘Lucy’ did not come from a woman who was the legal wife of Marcus
Blaydon.”
“That is so much, at any rate,” said Jack; “and now if you can give
us any clue as to how it would be possible to be brought in touch with
Horace Lyman, we will be evermore indebted to you.”
“The woman is his sister--so much I gathered,” said the Governor. “And I
learned that he was waiting for Blaydon at the prison gate when Blaydon
was released. That is all I know. But the sister’s address is, as I
mentioned just now, London, in Canada--at least, that was her address
when she was in communication with Blaydon. Her letters were not
illiterate, though of course they were not carefully written. They
showed what critics would possibly call an ill-balanced mind--extremes
of blandishments on one page, and threats of the wildest nature on the
next. I can give you copies if you would care to see them.”
Priscilla shook her head. She could not see herself sitting down to read
the confidential letters of the poor woman.
“I am quite willing to accept your judgment on them, Major Crosbie,” she
said.
“I think that you are right to do so,” said he. “If you were to, read
them they would certainly convey more to you, who have fortunately had
no experience of this form of correspondence, than would be good for
your future peace of mind. You would say at once when you saw the
address ‘My dearest husband,’ and the reiteration of the same word,
‘husband’ with various vehement adjectives--you would undoubtedly
feel confident that the pair were married, but you must think of that
possibility with great suspicion.”
“You have suggested it, at any rate, and for that you have our heartiest
thanks,” said Jack. “Why, only to be able to put that name ‘Lucy Lyman’
on Sir Edward’s brief means an enormous gain to us.”
“But you will, of course, send someone out to Canada to make the thing
sure,” said Crosbie. “You may be able to find the woman herself, and to
bring her to England to confront the man. Whether she’s his wife or not,
that will be a help to your case.”
“I should rather think that it will be a help,” cried Jack. “If it can
be shown that the man went straight from this place to the side of that
woman in Canada, I don’t see how any judge could refuse us a verdict. I
shall start for Canada to-morrow.”
“For Heaven’s sake consult with your solicitors first,” said Crosbie.
“They may think that one of their own agents is the best person to
pursue the necessary enquiry in Canada. And now that we have gone as far
as we are likely to go into this matter, even though we should confer
together for a week, we shall have lunch. My wife and daughter are
unfortunately still in Paris--I left them starting on a round of
shops--but you will make allowances for a household run for the present
_en garçon_.” The lunch was, however, so excellent as to leave no need
for any allowance to be made by either of the visitors; and when it was
over their host offered, as they expected he would, to show them over
the prison. Jack knew that governors of prisons, as well as commanders
of cruisers and vergers of cathedrals and superintendents of lunatic
asylums, take it for granted that every visitor is burning to be “shown
over the place”; and he felt too deeply indebted to Major Crosbie not to
afford him an opportunity of exhibiting his hobby at this time. So for
the next hour and a half he and Priscilla gave themselves up to this
form of entertainment. The Governor spared them none of the interesting
horrors of the “system.” They were shown the handsome young bank clerk
who, on a salary of one hundred and twenty pounds a year, had managed to
keep a motor and to go to a music hall every night of his life for
three years without once arousing the suspicion of the directorate;
the ex-Lord Mayor (not of London) who had made a fortune by insuring
people’s lives (in an American office) and then encouraging them to
drink themselves to death; the soldier who, after winning the Victoria
Cross twice over, and saving two batteries of field artillery, had taken
to beating women in Bermondsey, and had one day gone a little too far in
this way; the great financier who had done his best to save the life of
the King by standing by in his 300-ton yacht when his Majesty was in
no danger, and had a little later been sentenced at the Old Bailey for
another audacious fraud; the young man of “superior education” who
had done several very neat forgeries, and was now making pants in the
tailor’s shop; the ex-officer of Engineers who had lived in a mansion
on the Cromwell Road for several years on the profits of writing begging
letters, and was now, by the irony of Fate, engaged in sewing canvas,
mail-bags in which probably, when he came to be relieved of
this obligation, his own compositions would be conveyed to their
destination--all of these interesting persons the visitors saw, with
many others of equal distinction. And they went away fully satisfied,
and with a consciousness of having cancelled a good portion of whatever
debt they owed to the Governor.
“Funny!” said Priscilla suddenly, when they were sitting opposite to
each other in the dining-car a few hours later. “Funny, isn’t it, that
that man with the reddish hair who was working out his sentence for
forgery should be the Reverend Sylvanus Purview, who read the marriage
service between Marcus Blaydon and myself!”
“Great Gloriana! Are you positive?” cried Jack.
“As positive as I was about the other,” said Priscilla. “And what’s
stranger still, he recognized me the moment we entered the tailor’s
shop. I saw as much by his face, though I had not recognized him in his
prison clothes. He was a temporary hand taken on by Mr. Possnett to do
his duty when he was absent on his holiday. He lodged in Mrs. Bowman’s
cottage, and went away without paying her. It created rather a scandal
in our respectable neighbourhood.”
“The rascal! I suppose he’ll lose his frock, now,” said Jack.
“Mr. Possnett wrote to the Bishop about him; but he had left the
diocese, and no one knew what had become of him,” said Priscilla.
“Well, we know now. I wonder what it was he forged. He was clearly a bad
egg from the first. How did you feel when you recognized him?”
“Delighted,” cried Priscilla. “I felt as if I were paying him back in
full the grudge that I owed him.” Jack laughed.