"I would hardly use the word 'suspect,' " replied Miller. "But some of us—including myself—have entertained the idea. And not, mind you, without any show of reason. There was a certain occasion on which we really thought we had got our hands on him; but we hadn't. If he was guilty—I don't say that he was, mind you—but if he was, he slipped out of the net uncommonly neatly. It was a case of forgery; at least we thought it was. But, if it was, it was so good that the experts wouldn't swear to it, and the case wasn't clear enough to take into Court. "
Mr. Brodribb pricked up his ears. "Forgery, you say; and a good forgery at that? You don't remember the particulars, I suppose? Because the question has a rather special interest for me."
"I only remember that it was a will case. The signature of the testator and the two witnesses were disputed, but, as all three were dead, the question had to be decided on the opinions of experts; and none of the experts were certain enough to swear that the signatures might not be genuine. So the will had to be accepted as a genuine document. I suppose I mustn't ask how the question interests you?"
"Well," said Brodribb, "we are speaking in confidence, and I don't know that the matter is one of any great secrecy. It concerns this peerage claim that I was speaking about. I have had a copy of the pleadings, and I see that the claimant relies on certain documents to prove the identity of a very doubtful person. If you would care to hear an outline of the case, I don't think there would be any harm in my giving you a few of the particulars. I really came here to talk the case over with Thorndyke."
"If the pleadings were drawn up by Mr. Gimbler," said Miller, "I should like very much to hear an outline of the case. And you can take it that I shall not breathe a word to any living soul."
"The pleadings," said Brodribb, "were drawn up by counsel, but, of course, on Gimbler's instructions. The facts, or alleged facts, must have been supplied by him. However, before I come to his part in the business, there are certain other matters to consider; so it will be better if I take the case as a whole and in the natural order of events.
"Let me begin by explaining that I am the Earl of Winsborough's man of business. My father and grandfather both acted in the same capacity for former holders of the title, so, naturally, all the relevant documents on the one side are in my keeping. I am also the executor of the present Earl's will, though there is not much in that, as practically everything is left to the heir."
"You speak of the present Earl," said Thorndyke. "But, if there is a present Earl, how comes it that a claim is being made to the earldom? Is an attempt being made to oust the present holder of the title?"
"I spoke of the present Earl," replied Brodribb, "because that is the legal position, and I, as his agent, am bound to accept it. But, as a matter of fact, I do not believe that there is a present Earl of Winsborough. I have no doubt that the Earl is dead. He went away on an exploring and big game hunting expedition to South America nearly five years ago, and has not been heard of for over four years. But, of course, in a legal sense, he is still alive and will remain alive until he is either proved or presumed to be dead. Hence these present proceedings; which began with a proposal on the part of the heir presumptive to apply to the Court for permission to presume death. The heir presumptive is a young man, a son of the Earl's first cousin, who has only recently come of age. As I had no doubt that he was the real heir presumptive—there being, in fact, no other possible claimant known to me—and very little doubt that the Earl was dead, I did not propose to contest the application; but, as the Earl's agent, I could not very well act for the applicant. Accordingly, I turned the business over to my friend, Marchmont, and intended only to watch the case in the interests of the estate. Then, suddenly, this new claimant appeared out of the blue; and his appearance has complicated the affair most infernally.
"You see the dilemma. Both claimants wish to apply for permission to presume death. But neither of them is the admitted heir presumptive, and consequently neither of them has the necessary locus standi to make the application."
"Couldn't they make a joint application?" Miller asked, "and fight out the claim afterwards?"
"I doubt whether that could be done," replied Brodribb, "or whether they would be prepared to act in concert. Each would probably be afraid of seeming to concede the claim to the other. The alternative plan would be for them to settle the question of heirship before applying for leave to presume death. But there is the difficulty that, until death is presumed, the present Earl is alive in a legal sense, and, that being so, the Court might reasonably hold that the question of heirship does not arise. And, as the Earl is a bachelor and there are no near relatives, there is no one else to make the application."
"In any event," said I, "the new claimant's case would have to be dealt with by a Committee of Privileges of the House of Lords. Isn't that so?"
"I don't think it is," replied Brodribb. "This is not a case of reviving a dormant peerage. If the American's case, as stated in the pleadings, is sound, he is unquestionably the heir presumptive."
"What does his case amount to?" Thorndyke asked.
"Put in a nutshell," replied Brodribb, "it amounts to this: The American gentleman, whose name is Christopher Pippet, is the grandson of a certain Josiah Pippet who was the keeper of a tavern somewhere in London. But there is a persistent tradition in the family that the said Josiah was living a double life under an assumed name, and that he was really the Earl of Winsborough. It is stated that he was in the habit of going away from his home and his usual places of resort and leaving no address. It is further stated that during these periodical absences—which often lasted for a month or two—he was actually in residence at Winsborough Castle; that, when Josiah was absent from home, the Earl was in residence at the Castle, and when Josiah was at the tavern, the Earl was absent from the Castle. "
"And did Josiah and the Earl die simultaneously and in the same place?" I inquired.
"No,” said Brodribb. "The double life was brought to an end by Josiah, who is said, after the death of his wife and the marriage of his sons and daughter, to have grown weary of it. He wound up the affair by a simulated death, a mock funeral and the burial of a dummy coffin weighted with lumps of lead, after which he went to the Castle and took up his residence there for good. That is the substance of the story."
The Superintendent snorted contemptuously. "And you tell us, sir," said he, "that this man, Gimbler, is actually going to spin that yarn in a court of law. Why, the thing's grotesque—childish. He'd be howled out of Court. "
"I agree," said Brodribb, "that it sounds wild enough. But it is not impossible. Few things are. It is just a question of what they can prove. According to the pleadings, there are certain passages in a diary of the late Josiah which prove incontestably that he and the Earl were one and the same person."
"That diary," said Miller, "will be worth a pretty careful examination, having regard to the circumstances that I mentioned."
"Undoubtedly," Brodribb agreed; "though it seems to me that it would be extremely difficult to interpolate passages in a diary. There is usually no space in which to put them."
"Does the claimant propose to produce the dummy coffin with the lumps of lead in it?" I asked.
"Nothing has been said on that subject up to the present," Brodribb answered. "It would certainly be highly relevant; but, of course, they couldn't produce it without an exhumation order."
"I think you can take it," said Miller, "that they will leave that coffin severely alone—if you let them."
"Probably you are right," said Brodribb. "But the difficulty that confronts us at present is that it may be impossible to proceed with the case. When it comes on for hearing, the Court may refuse to consider the application until one of the applicants has established his locus standi as a person competent to make it; and it may refuse to hear evidence as to the claim of either party to be the heir on the grounds that, inasmuch as the Earl has been neither proved nor presumed to be dead, he must be presumed to be aliv
e, and that, therefore, in accordance with the legal maxim, Nemo est heres viventis, neither of the applicants can be the heir. "
"That," said Thorndyke, "is undoubtedly a possible contingency. But judges are eminently reasonable men and it is not the modern practice to favour legal hairsplittings. We may assume that the Court will not raise any difficulties that are not unavoidable; and this is a case which calls for some elasticity of procedure. For the difficulty which exists today might conceivably still exist fifty years hence; and, meanwhile, the title and the estates would be left derelict. What are the proceedings that are actually in contemplation, and who is making the first move?"
"The American claimant, Pippet, is making the first move. Gimbler has briefed Rufus McGonnell, K.C. as his leader with Montague Klein as junior. He is proposing to apply for permission to presume the death of the Earl. I am contesting his application and challenging his claim to be the heir presumptive. That, he thinks, will enable him to produce his evidence and argue his claim as an issue preliminary to and forming part of the main issue. But I doubt very much whether the Court will consent to hear any evidence or any arguments that are not directly relevant to the question of the probability of the Earl's death. It is a very awkward situation. Pippet's claim looks like a rather grotesque affair; and if he is depending on the entries in a diary, I shouldn't think he has the ghost of a chance. Still, it ought to be settled one way or the other for the sake of young Giles Engleheart, the real heir presumptive, as I assume."
"Why shouldn't Engleheart proceed with his application?" said I.
"Because," replied Brodribb, "the same difficulty would arise. The other claimant would challenge his competency to make the application. It is a ridiculous dilemma. There are two issues, and each of them requires the other to be settled before it can be decided. It is very difficult to know what to do."
"The only thing that you can do," said Thorndyke, "is what you seem to be doing; let things take their own course and wait upon events. Pippet is making the first move. Well, let him make it; and, if the Court won't hear him, it will be time for you to consider what you will do next. Meanwhile, it would be wise for you to assume that the Court will allow him to produce evidence of his competency to make the application. It is quite possible; and if you are supporting Mr. Engleheart's claim, you ought to be ready to contest the other claim."
"Yes," said Brodribb, "that is really what I came to talk to you about; and the first question is, do you know anything about these two counsel, McGonnell and Klein? I don't seem to remember either of them."
"You wouldn't," 'replied Thorndyke. "They are both almost exclusively criminal practitioners. But, in their own line, they are men of first class capabilities. You can take it that they will give you a run for your money if they get the chance, in spite of their being rather off their usual beat. Have you decided on your own counsel?"
"I have decided to secure your services, in any event. Would you be prepared to take the brief?"
“I will take it if you wish me to," replied Thorndyke, "but I think you would be better advised to employ Anstey. For this reason. If the case comes into court, it is possible that certain questions may arise on which you might wish me to give expert evidence. I think you would do well to let me keep an eye on the technical aspects of the case and let Anstey do the actual court work."
Brodribb looked sharply at Thorndyke but made no immediate reply; and, in the ensuing silence, a low chuckle was heard to proceed from the Superintendent.
"I like the delicate way the Doctor puts it," said he, by way of explaining the chuckle. "The technical aspects of this case will call for a good deal of watching; and I need not tell you, Mr. Brodribb, that, if the Doctor's eye is on them, there won't be much that will pass unobserved. In fact, I shouldn't be surprised to learn that the Doctor has got one or two of them in his eye already."
"Neither should I," said Brodribb. "Nothing surprises me where Thorndyke is concerned. At any rate I shall act on your advice, Thorndyke. One couldn't ask for a better counsel that Anstey; and it is not necessary for me to stipulate that you go over the pleadings with him and put him up to any possible dodges on the part of our friend Mr. Gimbler. Remember that I am retaining you, and that you do as you please about pleading in court."
"I understand," said Thorndyke. "You will keep Anstey and me fully instructed, and I shall give the case the most careful consideration in regard to any contingencies that may arise. As Miller has hinted, there are a good many possibilities, especially if Mr. Gimbler should think it necessary to throw a little extra weight into the balance of probabilities."
"Very well," said Brodribb, "then we will leave it at that. If you have the case in hand, I shall feel that I can go ahead in confidence; and I only hope that McGonnell will be able to persuade the Court to hear the evidence on his client's claim. It would be a blessed thing if we could get that question settled so that we could go straight ahead with the other question—the presumption of death. I am getting a little worried by the more or less derelict condition of the Winsborough estates and it would be a relief to see a young man fairly settled in possession."
"You are rather taking it for granted that the American's claim will fall through," I remarked.
"So I am," he admitted. "But you must allow that it does sound like a cock and bull story, and none too straightforward at that. However, we shall see. If I get nothing more out of it, I have had an extremely pleasant evening and a devilish good bottle of wine, and now it's about time that I took myself off and let you get to bed."
With this he rose and shook hands; and the Superintendent, taking the rather broad hint conveyed in the concluding sentence, rose too, and the pair took their departure together.
VII. THE FINAL PREPARATIONS
Most of us have wit enough to be wise after the event, and a few of us have enough to be wise before. Thorndyke was one of these few, and I, alas! was not. I am speaking in generalities, but I am thinking of a particular case—the Winsborough Peerage Claim. That case I could not bring myself to take seriously. The story appeared to me, as it had appeared to Miller, merely grotesque. Its improbabilities were so outrageous that I could not entertain it as a problem for serious consideration. And then, such as it was, it was a purely legal case, completely outside our ordinary line of practice. At least, that is how it appeared to me.
Now, Thorndyke made no such mistake. Naturally, he could not foresee developments in detail. But subsequent events showed that he had foreseen, and very carefully considered, all the possible contingencies, so that when they arose they found him prepared. And he also saw clearly that the case might turn out to be very much in our line.
As I was unaware of his views—Thorndyke being the most uncommunicative man whom I have ever known—I looked with some surprise on the obvious interest that he took in the case. So great was that interest that he actually adopted the extraordinary habit of spending week-ends at Winsborough Castle. What he did there I was unable to make out. I heard rumours of his having gone over the butler's accounts and some of the old household books and papers with Brodribb, which seemed a not unreasonable proceeding, though more in Brodribb's line than ours. But most of his time he apparently spent rambling about the country with a note book, a small camera and a set of six inch ordnance maps. And he evidently covered a surprising amount of ground, as I could see by the numbers of photographs that he brought home, and which he either developed himself or handed to our invaluable laboratory assistant, Polton, for development. Over those photographs, when they were printed, I pored with a feeling of stupefaction. They included churches, both inside and out, windmills, inns, churchyards, and quaint village streets; all very interesting and many of them charming. But what had they to do with the peerage case? I was completely mystified.
On one occasion I accompanied him, and a very pleasant jaunt it was. The Castle was rather a delusion, though there were some mediaeval ruins of a castellated building; but the mansion was a pleasant, homely bri
ck house of the late seventeenth century in the style of Wren's country houses. But our ramblings about the house and the adjoining gardens and park yielded no information—excepting as to the mental condition of a former proprietor, as suggested by the costly and idiotic additions that he had made to the mansion.
These were, I must admit, perfectly astounding. On a low hill in the park near to the house was a stupendous brick tower—a regular Tower of Babel—from the summit of which we could look across the sea to the white cliffs of the coast of France. It stood quite alone and appeared to have no purpose beyond the view from the top, but the cost of its construction must have been enormous. But "George's Folly," to give the tower its appropriate local name, was not the most astonishing of these works. When we came down from the roof, Thorndyke produced a bunch of large keys, which he had borrowed from the butler, and with one of them opened a door in the basement. Then he switched on a portable electric lamp, by the light of which I perceived a flight of stone steps apparently descending into the bowels of the earth. Picking our way down these, we reached an archway opening into a roomy brick-walled passage, and making our way along this for fully a hundred yards, at length reached another door which, being unlocked, gave entrance to a large room, lighted by a brick shaft that opened on the surface. A moth-eaten carpet still covered the floor and the mouldering furniture remained as it had been left, presumably, by the eccentric builder.
It was a strange and desolate-looking apartment, and the final touch of desolation was given by a multitude of bats which hung, head downwards, from the ceiling ornaments or fluttered silently in circles in the dark corners or in the dim light under the opening of the shaft.
"This is a weird place, Thorndyke," I exclaimed. "What do you think could have been the object of building it?"
"So far as I know," he replied, "there was no particular object. It was the noble lord's hobby to build towers and underground apartments. This is not the only one. The door at the other end of the room opens into another passage which leads to several other large rooms. We may as well inspect them."
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