by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER XXXI
VALEDICTORY
Much as Bruce would have wished to inter his dead friend's secret withhis mortal remains in the tomb, it was impossible.
Sir Charles Dyke's sacrifice must not be made in vain, and the strangechain of events encircled other actors in the drama too strongly toenable the barrister to adopt the course which would otherwise havecommended itself to him. An early visit to Scotland Yard, where, incompany with Mr. White, he interviewed the Deputy Commissioner, and aconference with the district coroner settled two important questions.The police were satisfied as to the cause of Lady Dyke's death, and thecoroner agreed to keep the evidence as to the baronet's sudden collapsestrictly within the limits of the medical evidence.
A wholly unnecessary public scandal was thus avoided.
With Lady Dyke's relatives his task required considerable tact. Withouttaking them fully into his confidence, he explained that Sir Charles hadall along known the exact facts bearing upon her death and burial-place,but for family reasons he thought it best not to disclose his knowledge.
Bruce needed their co-operation in getting the home office to give therequisite permission for Lady Dyke's reburial. The circumstance that thedeceased baronet had left his estates to his wife's nephew, joined tothe important position Bruce occupied as one of the trustees and jointguardian, with the boy's mother, of the young heir, smoothed over manydifficulties.
After a harassing and anxious week Bruce had the melancholy satisfactionof seeing the remains of the unfortunate couple laid to rest in thestately gloom of the family vault.
The newspapers, of course, scented a mystery in the proceedings, butdefinite inquiry was barred in every direction. Even the exhumationorder gave no clue to the reasons of the authorities for granting it,and in less than the proverbial nine days the incident was forgotten.
Sir Charles had made it a condition precedent to the succession that hisheir should bear his name, and should live with his widowed mother onthe Yorkshire estate, or in the town house, for a certain number ofmonths in each year, until the boy was old enough to go to school.
The stipulation was intended to have the effect of more rapidly buryinghis own memory in oblivion. Bruce, too, was given a sum of L5,000, "tobe expended in bequests as he thought fit."
Claude understood his motive thoroughly. Jane Harding had been loyal toher master in her way, so he arranged that she should receive an annualincome sufficient to secure her from want. Thompson, too, was providedfor when the time came that he was too feeble for further employment atPortman Square, and Mr. White received a handsome _douceur_ for hisservices.
Mrs. Hillmer did not even know of Sir Charles Dyke's death until weekshad passed. Acting on Bruce's advice her brother simply told her thateverything had been settled, and that the authorities concurred with thebarrister in the opinion that Lady Dyke was accidently killed.
When she had completely recovered from the shock of the belief that herloyal friend had murdered his wife, Mensmore one day told her the wholesad story. But he would allow no more weeping.
"It is time," he said, "that the misery of this episode should cease.When the chief actor in the tragedy gave his life to end the suffering,we would but ill meet his wishes by allowing it to occupy our thoughtsunduly in the future."
Mensmore's marriage with Phyllis Browne was now definitely fixed for thefollowing autumn, so he carried his sister off with him on a hasty tripto Wyoming in company with Corbett--a journey required for theprotection and development of their joint interests in that State.
Not only did their property turn out to be of great and lasting value,but during their absence the Springbok Mine began to boom. Even thecautious barrister one day found himself hesitating whether or not tosell at half over par, so excellent were the reports and so extensivethe dividends from that auriferous locality.
The two young people were married, a scion of the house had become alusty two-year-old, Mr. White had become Chief Inspector, and Miss Mariele Marchant had, by strenuous effort, risen to the dignity of doublecrown posters as a "dashing comedienne"--when Bruce's memories of hislost friends were suddenly revived in an unexpected manner.
Mr. Sydney H. Corbett came to him with measured questionings andbrooding thought stamped on his brows.
"It's like this," he said, when they were settled down to details, "Iwant to get married."
"To whom?" inquired Claude, wondering at the savage tone in which theannouncement was made.
"To Mrs. Hillmer."
"Oh!"
"That's what everybody yells the moment I mention it. She screams 'Oh!'and runs off with tears in her eyes. Her brother says 'Oh!' and looksuncomfortable, but refuses to discuss the proposition. Now you say 'Oh!'and gaze at me like an owl at the bare statement. What the dickens doesit all mean, I want to know? I'm not worrying about what happened yearsago. Mrs. Hillmer is just the sort of woman I require as a wife, andI'll marry her yet if the whole British nation says 'Oh!' loud enough tobe heard and answered by the U-nited States."
"That's the proper sort of spirit in which to set about the business."
"Yes, sir; but I can't get any forrarder. There's a kind of rock belowwater which holds me up every time I shoot the rapids. She likes me wellenough, I know. She calls me 'Syd' as slick as butter, and I call her'Gwen'; but there you are--if I want to go ahead a bit she pulls up andweeps. Now, why the--"
"Steady, Mr. Corbett. Women weep for many reasons. Do you know herhistory?"
"No, and I don't want to."
"But perhaps that is exactly what she does want. Remember that she hasbeen married before, with somewhat bitter experience. She probablybelieves that a husband and wife should have no secrets from each other.Above all else, there should be no cloud between them as to bygoneevents. Mrs. Hillmer is highly sensitive. If she imagined you were underany misapprehension as to the circumstances under which Sir Charles andLady Dyke met their deaths--do not forget that you were personallymixed up in the affair--she would neither entertain your proposal norexplain her motives. She would just do as you say--run away and cry."
"Well, now, that beats everything," said Corbett admiringly. "That neverstruck me before."
"It is the probable explanation of her attitude, nevertheless."
"Then what am I to do?"
"Write to her. Ask her permission to learn the facts from me. Tell heryou believe you understand the reasons for her reticence, and that youronly excuse for the request is that you want to go to her on an equalplane of absolute confidence. It seems to me--"
"That I'd better get quick and do it," shouted Corbett, vanishing withthe utmost celerity.
Bruce still occupied his old chambers in Victoria Street. He did notexpect to see Corbett again for a couple of days. To the barrister'sutter amazement he returned within ten minutes.
"Fire away!" he cried excitedly. "You struck it first time. I just rangher up--"
"Rang her up?"
"Yes; she's staying at the Savoy for a few days, so I telephoned fromthe Windsor. I could never fix up a letter in your words, you know. Butswitch me on the end of a wire and I know where I am."
"What on earth did you say?"
"As soon as I got her in the box at the other end, I said, 'Is that you,Gwen?' 'Yes,' said she. 'Well,' said I, 'I guess you know who'stalking?' 'Quite well,' said she. 'Then,' said I, 'I've just beentelling Mr. Bruce I wanted to marry you, and that you wouldn't evendiscuss the proposition. He said you probably wished me to know thewhole story of Sir Charles Dyke, but felt kinder shy of telling meyourself. He will get it off his chest if you give him permission, andthen I can come along in a hansom and fix things. What do you say?'There was no answer, so I shouted, 'Are you there?' and she said, 'Yes,'faint-like. 'Don't let me hurry you,' said I, 'but if you agreestraight-away I can catch Bruce at home, for I've just left him.' Withthat she said, 'Very well. You can see Mr. Bruce.' And here I am."
"Having accomplished the whole thing satisfactorily."
"As h
ow?"
"Don't you see you have proposed to the lady and practically beenaccepted?"
"Jehosh! It does look something like it. Say, I'm off! This story ofyours will keep until to-morrow."
He would have gone, but Bruce jumped after him.
"Not so fast, Mr. Corbett. You must not sail into the Savoy flying afalse flag. Kindly oblige me with your attention for the nexthalf-hour."
With that, he unlocked a safe and took from its recesses Sir CharlesDyke's "confession." He read the whole of its opening passages,explaining the relations between Mrs. Hillmer and her unfortunate butabiding friend.
The straightforward, honest sentences sounded strangely familiar at thisdistance of time. Bruce was glad of the opportunity of reading themaloud. It seemed a fitting thing that this testimony should come, as itwere, from the tomb.
Corbett listened intently to the recital and to the barrister's summaryof the events that followed.
"Poor chap!" he said, when the sad tale had ended. "I hope you shookhands with him as he asked you to do?"
"I did. Would that my grasp had the power to reassure him of myheartfelt sympathy."
For a little while they were silent.
"So," said Corbett at last, "Gwen thought I would make the same mistakeas the poor lady, and suspect her wrongfully."
"No, not that. But naturally she wished the man whom she could trust asa husband to be wholly cognizant of events in which already he hadparticipated slightly."
"She was right. I like her all the better for it. But, tell me, is thereany necessity for that wonderful document to be preserved?"
"Not the slightest. It has served its last use."
"Then put it in the fire."
Bruce did not hesitate a moment to comply with the wish. The flamesdevoured the record with avidity, and the two men watched the manuscriptcrumbling into nothingness. Then Corbett said:
"I must be off to the Savoy."
"Good-bye, old chap," said Bruce. "And good luck to you, too. Icongratulate both Mrs. Hillmer and yourself."