life can be taken is fascinating often to fatality. Themajority of cases of suicide by pistol or by poison would not haveoccurred if the weapon or potion had been absent. Their very presencekeeps the temptation to use them before the would-be suicide with moreor less power.
In this case it was the same as many others. Hugh Trethowen's lucidityof mind, granting that there was mental aberration, could not have beenfully absent. The fascination of rest, of a possible life beyond, ofdramatic sensationalism--all combined--may have been the chiefmotive-power.
Nevertheless, he stood looking at it calmly. He was bent upon hispurpose.
Lifting the glass of brandy and soda, he poured the contents of thephial into it, afterwards tossing the bottle into the grate. His handtrembled a little, but by setting his feet firmly he overcame thissudden nervousness, and looked around him for the last time calmly andseriously.
"Well, here's health to my creditors, and long life to the men who,posing as my friends, have ruined me!" he said bitterly, with a harshlaugh.
Heaving one long sigh, he raised the glass to his lips. He waspreparing to drink it at one gulp.
At that moment there came Jacob's well-known tap at the door, and heentered, bearing a letter upon a salver.
Trethowen started, and quickly replaced the glass upon the table. Hewas confused, and felt ashamed of being caught in the act ofself-destruction, although the old man could not have been aware of whatthe glass contained.
Without a word he took the letter, and Jacob retired.
Tearing it open impatiently, he eagerly read its contents. It was apurely formal communication from Messrs. Graham and Ratcliff, aneminently respectable legal firm, who, some years before, had transactedhis late father's business, and who now expressed a desire that heshould call at their offices in Devereux Court, Temple, at noon on thefollowing day, as they wished to have an interview with him on a mostimportant and pressing matter.
He re-read the letter several times; then, without a word escaping hislips, flung the contents of the glass upon the fire.
The letter puzzled him sorely. He resolved to call at the address givenand ascertain the nature of the mysterious business.
It had saved him.
CHAPTER FIVE.
UNDER ST. CLEMENT DANES.
The office was small, dingy, and undusted, with a threadbare carpet thathad once been green, long rows of pigeon-holes filled with faded legalpapers, and windows so dirt-begrimed that they only admitted a yellowlight, which added to the characteristic gloom.
Before a large writing-table sat Mr. Bernard Graham, solicitor andcommissioner for oaths, interestedly reading some documents which hadapparently been taken from a black tin box that was standing open nearhim. He was a clean-shaven, wizened man of sixty, with scanty whitehair, a forehead denoting considerable self-esteem, a pair of small,cold grey eyes, and an aquiline nose, surmounted by pince-nez withtortoiseshell frames. Attired in broadcloth of an antiquated cut, helooked exactly what his clients believed him to be--a respectable familysolicitor, the surviving partner of the once popular firm of Graham andRatcliff.
"Hum! the dates correspond," he was murmuring aloud, as he jotted downsome memoranda, after glancing through an affidavit yellow with age."There can be no doubt that my surmise is correct; yet the whole affairis the most extraordinary within my experience. I wonder whether thereare any minor points that will require clearing up?"
Selecting another document, somewhat larger than the former, he openedit, and readjusting his glasses, read it through slowly and carefully,breaking off several times to make notes of dates and names therein setforth.
"No," he exclaimed at last, as he laid the paper aside; "we must firstestablish the identity, then everything will be straightforward. It allseems remarkably dear."
Leaning back in his writing chair, his features relaxed into aself-satisfied smile.
"Some one must benefit," he observed aloud, his face again assuming athoughtful look. "There is such a thing as murder through revenge.Now, I wonder how I should fare if--"
The door suddenly opened, and a clerk appeared bearing a card.
"Show him in," commanded the solicitor, after glancing at it.
A moment later Hugh Trethowen entered.
Dressed fashionably, with a flower in his coat, he looked spruce andgay. The settled look of despair had given place to a pleasant smile,and as he advanced with elastic tread and greeted the old gentleman inhis usual easy, familiar manner, it would have been hard to believe thattwelve hours ago he had been on the point of taking his life.
"Well, Graham," he began, as he put down his hat, and took the chairopposite the solicitor; "now, what is it you want with me? I've beenbreathing an atmosphere of debts and duns lately, so, if any of mycreditors have been so misguided as to put their claim into your hands,I may as well give you the tip at once that I'm not worth sixpence."
"Creditors are out of the question, Mr. Hugh," the old solicitorreplied, smiling, and leaning back in his chair.
"I wish they were," said Hugh fervently. "Give me a recipe to get ridof them, and I'll try the experiment at all hazards."
"You have no need, my dear sir,--no need whatever."
"No need!" repeated the younger man in astonishment, for the wordsseemed like an insinuation that he knew the secret means by which heintended to evade his difficulties. "Why, what do you mean?" he askedseriously. "I tell you, it is pay or smash with me."
"I regret to hear that, but you will adopt the former course," Grahamreplied mysteriously.
Hugh laughed sarcastically.
"That's very likely, when I have no money. But, look here, what do youwant with me?"
"To impart some news."
"News!" exclaimed Trethowen, suddenly interested. "Good or bad?"
"Both."
"What is it? Tell me quickly," he demanded, with an impatient gesture.
"Simply this. I wish to congratulate you upon your inheritance."
"What inheritance?"
"Well, the information it is my pleasure to communicate will undoubtedlycause you mingled pain and satisfaction. Briefly, your brother, DouglasTrethowen, is dead, and--"
"What!" cried Hugh, starting to his feet in amazement. "You'rehumbugging me!"
"I repeat, your brother is dead," resumed the old solicitor calmly,looking intently into the face of the man before him. "In consequenceof that event you inherit the whole of the estate."
"Good heavens, is this true, Graham?" he asked breathlessly.
"It is. Therefore I don't think you need trouble yourself overcreditors any longer. You can now pay, and wipe them out."
The old man laughed at the effect his words had produced, for HughTrethowen was standing in mute astonishment.
"But how do you know Douglas is dead?" he asked.
"There is little doubt of it," answered Mr. Graham coolly. "Read this,"and he handed him a newspaper cutting.
Hugh scanned it eagerly, with an expression of abject amazement. Thestatement was to the effect that it had just transpired that the manfound murdered in an omnibus at Charing Cross had been identified as Mr.Douglas Trethowen, of Coombe Hall, Cornwall. Upon the body some cardsand letters had been found, which, for some unaccountable reason, had atfirst been kept secret by the police.
"I can scarcely believe it," Hugh ejaculated at length. "Besides, afterall, it is not absolutely certain that it is he."
"Not at all," admitted Graham, with a puzzled look. "Of course, you, ashis brother, must identify him."
"Yes," said the other, very thoughtfully; for it had suddenly occurredto him that he had not recognised the features when he saw the bodytaken from the omnibus.
"No time must be lost," observed the solicitor. "The identity must beestablished at once. The inquest will, I believe, be held to-morrow."
Hugh hesitated, and for some moments remained silent.
"You see, I've not met my brother for six years, therefore I might beunable to recognise him.
He has been abroad during the greater part ofthat period, and his appearance may have altered considerably."
"Nonsense, my dear sir,--nonsense. You would surely know your ownbrother, even if a dozen years had elapsed," he answered decisively.
"And suppose he really is Douglas?"
"The will is explicit enough," the elder man said, pointing to an opendocument before him. "This is a copy of it, and no codicil has beenadded. In the same manner as your late respected father, Mr. Douglasleft the whole of his affairs in my hands. Fortunately for you, henever married, and the property is yours."
He felt bewildered. Such agreeable news was sufficient to animate withimmoderate joy a ruined man who, a few hours previously,
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