In Friendship's Guise

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In Friendship's Guise Page 31

by William Murray Graydon


  CHAPTER XXXI.

  NOAH HAWKER'S DISCLOSURE.

  True to his word, Mr. Tenby set the machinery of the law in motion asspeedily as possible. About the time when Sir Lucius entered the drearyprison that lies Islington way, Gilbert Morris was brought to the courtin Great Marlborough street. Jack was present--a warder had driven himfrom Holloway--and he promptly identified the prisoner as the man he hadseen coming out of the Beak street house on the night of the murder.Other evidence was given by the police, and by Doctor Bent, theproprietor of the Surrey madhouse, and the lunatic was remanded for aweek; he boasted of his crime while in the dock. Then a brief formalityensued. Mr. Tenby applied for the discharge of his client, and themagistrate granted it without delay.

  A free man again! The words seemed to ring in Jack's ears as he left thecourt, but they meant little to him, so broken was he in spirit, soashamed of his unmerited disgrace. Jimmie was waiting for him, andcongratulated him fervently. The two shook hands with the solicitor, andthanked him for what he had done, and they went quickly off in a cab.

  They drove to the Albany, and Jimmie ordered a lunch to be sent in froma Piccadilly restaurant. Jack ate listlessly, but a bottle of primeclaret made him slightly more cheerful and brought some color to hisbleached features. He listened to all that Jimmie had to tell him--satwith stern eyes and compressed lips while the black tale of VictorNevill's treachery was recounted. He could not doubt when he had readthe murdered woman's statement; it breathed truth in every word. Hecrushed the letter in his hand, as though he wished it had been thethroat of his enemy.

  "Nevill, of all men!" he said, hoarsely. "A creeping serpent, masked asa friend, who struck in the dark! And he was Diane's seducer! The nighthe stole her from me we were drinking together in a _brasserie_ in theLatin Quarter! And, as if that was not deep enough injury, he broughther to England, years afterwards, to ruin my new-found happiness. Therewas never such perfidy! I was not even aware that he knew Madge, muchless that he loved her. But she surely won't marry him now."

  "No fear!" replied Jimmie. "His retribution has come. I hope you willpay him with interest, old chap."

  "I should like to confront him," Jack answered, "but it is wisernot to; my passion would get the better of me. No, his punishment issufficient--you have avenged me, Jimmie. Think of what it means! Publicexposure, perhaps, exile from England, and the loss of his uncle'sfortune. He will suffer more keenly than any low-born criminal who goesto the gallows. I will leave him to his conscience and his God."

  "You are too merciful--too kind-hearted," said Jimmie. "But it isuseless to argue with you. Come, we'll talk of something more cheerfuland forget the past. What are you going to do with yourself? Go backto the art?"

  "I have no plans," Jack replied, bitterly, "except that I shall get awayfrom London as speedily as possible. I can't live down my disgrace here.I shall probably return to India. I have lost faith in human nature,Jimmie, and learned the mockery of friendship--no, by heavens, Ishouldn't say that! I have found out what true friendship is. I cannever forget what you did for me--how you worked to prove my innocence!"

  "It was a pleasure, old fellow. I would have done a hundred times asmuch. But don't talk blooming nonsense about leaving London. Many aninnocent man falls under suspicion--there is not a shadow of disgraceattached to it. Stay here and work! Go back to your studio! And marrythe woman you love. Why shouldn't you, now that you are free in everysense? I'll bet anything you like that she cares for you as much asever--"

  "Stop; don't speak of _her_!" cried Jack. "I can't bear it!--the memoryof Madge brings torments! It is too late, too late! She can never bemine!"

  "That's where you're wrong, old chap," said Jimmie. "I know how you feelabout it, but do listen to reason--"

  He broke off at the sound of a couple of sharp raps, and jumping uphe opened the door. Into the room strode Sir Lucius Chesney, with abewildered, agitated look on his face that had been there when he droveaway from Pentonville Prison an hour before, after a lengthy and moststartling interview with Major Wyatt and Noah Hawker.

  "I hope you will excuse my abrupt intrusion," he said quickly. "I wentto Tenby's office, and he told me where you had gone. I have somethingvery important to say--I will come to it presently. Mr. Vernon, Icongratulate you! No one can rejoice more sincerely than myself thatthis black cloud has passed away from your life. You have paid dearlyfor your youthful folly--your boyish infatuation with a French dancer."

  "You are very kind, sir," said Jack, as he accepted the proffered hand."I hear that I owe very much to you."

  "Thank God that I have found you--that I am not left desolate in my oldage!" exclaimed Sir Lucius, to the wonder of his companions. "Preparefor a great surprise! Your name is not Vernon, but Clare?"

  "John Clare is my real name, sir."

  "And your father was Ralph Vernon Clare?"

  "Yes!"

  "I knew as much--it was needless to ask," replied Sir Lucius, intremulous tones; something glistened in his eye. He rested an arm onJack's shoulder and looked into his face. "My dear boy, your mother wasmy youngest sister," he added. "And you are my nephew!"

  A rush of color dyed Jack's cheeks, and he stared in amazement; he couldnot grasp the meaning of what he had just heard.

  "You my uncle, Sir Lucius?" he asked, hoarsely.

  "Yes, your uncle!"

  "By Jove, another mystery!" gasped Jimmie. "It knocks me breathless! Idon't know what to make of it--it beats the novels that wind up with thediscovery of the lost heir. At all events, Jack, you seem to be in luck.I'm awfully glad!"

  "I--I'm afraid I don't quite understand," said Jack. "I never suspectedanything of the sort, though I remember that my mother rarely spoke ofher early life."

  "That was her secret," replied Sir Lucius, "and she intended that itshould be revealed to you after her death. Read these; they will tellyou all!"

  Sir Lucius produced three papers from his pocket. Jack took them, andhe uttered an exclamation of astonishment as he saw that one was acertificate of his mother's marriage, and another one of his own birth.The third paper was a letter of a dozen closely written sheets, in thedead hand that was so familiar to him. As he read on, his face showedvarious emotions.

  "My poor mother, how she suffered!" he said when he had finished theletter. "It is a strange story, Sir Lucius. So my mother was yoursister, and Victor Nevill was the son of another sister, which makes himmy cousin. My mother knew all these things, and yet she never told me!"

  "She had the family pride," Sir Lucius answered, with a sigh. "As forVictor Nevill, I regret that the blood of the Chesneys runs in hisveins. But he is no longer any kin of mine--I disown him and cast himout. The letter does not speak so harshly of me as I deserve. Yourmother, Mary, was my youngest and favorite sister--I loved her the morebecause my wife had died childless soon after my marriage. I got aclever young artist, Ralph Clare, down to Priory Court to paint Mary'sportrait, little foreseeing what would happen. She fell in love withhim, and fled to become his wife. It was a blow to my family pride, andmy anger was stronger than my grief. I vowed that I would never forgiveher, and when she wrote to me--once a short time after her flight, andagain ten years later--I returned her letters unopened. Her elder sisterwas as obdurate as myself, and refused to have anything to do with her.After the death of Elizabeth--that was Victor Nevill's mother--I beganto feel that I had been too harsh with Mary. My remorse grew, giving meno rest, until recently I determined to find her. But I might neverhave succeeded had not mere chance helped me. I was struck by yourresemblance to Mary when I first met you in Lamb and Drummond's shop--"

  He paused for a moment, struggling with emotion.

  "My boy, believe that I am truly repentant," he added. "I have no kithor kin left but you--you alone can fill the empty void in my heart. Youmust reign some day at Priory Court. Will you forgive me, as your motherdid at the last?"

  For an instant Jack hesitated. He remembered the sad story he hadjust read--the story of his father's illness an
d death, his mother'ssubsequent privations, and the grief caused by her brother's cruelconduct, which continued to cloud her life after a distant relativebequeathed to her a comfortable legacy. Then he recalled the last wordsof the letter, and his face softened.

  "I forgive you freely, Sir Lucius," he said. "My mother wished me tobear you no malice, and I cannot disregard that."

  "God bless you, my boy," replied Sir Lucius. "You have made me veryhappy."

  "Come, cheer up!" put in Jimmie. "This is an occasion for rejoicing. Ihave a bottle of champagne, and we'll drink it to the health of the newheir."

  The wine was produced and opened, and Jack responded to the toast.

  "There is one thing that puzzles me, Sir Lucius," he said. "How didthese papers come into your hands? They could not have been among mymother's effects."

  "Are you aware," replied Sir Lucius, "that on the night after yourmother's death her house in Bayswater was broken into by a burglar?"

  "Yes; I remember that."

  "Well, the burglar carried off, among other things that were of littlevalue, this packet of papers. He concealed them at his lodgings inKentish Town, and he chose a curious and ingenious hiding-place--arecess behind a loose brick in the wall of the house, just below hiswindow. Shortly afterward the rascal--his name was Noah Hawker--wascaught at another crime, and sent to penal servitude for a term ofyears. On his release last spring, on ticket-of-leave, he went abroad,and when he returned to England several weeks ago he resurrected thepapers from their place of security, studied them, and saw anopportunity for gain. He knew that they concerned three persons--you,Victor Nevill and myself--and he was cunning enough to start withVictor. He hunted him up and offered to sell the papers for a thousandpounds. My nephew agreed to buy them, intending to destroy them and thusretain his position as my sole heir--"

  "Then Nevill knew who I was?" exclaimed Jack.

  "Yes, he knew recently," Sir Lucius replied. "I must break off to tellyou that while I was abroad this summer, Victor promised, at my request,to try to trace your mother; but I am thoroughly convinced now that hemade no effort whatever, and that he lied to me basely, with the hope ofmaking me believe that the task was impossible. To proceed, the manHawker was traced by the police, and arrested while awaiting the arrivalof my nephew to complete the sale of the papers. He believed that Victorhad betrayed him, and he determined to be revenged. So he confided inthe Governor of Pentonville Prison, who went to the house in KentishTown and found the papers. Then, at the prisoner's earnest request, hesent for me this morning. I went to Pentonville and Hawker told me thewhole story and gave me the papers. By the way, he knows you, my boy,and declares that you did him a kindness not long ago. It was at anight-club, I think, and you bandaged a wound on his head."

  "I remember!" exclaimed Jack. "By Jove, was that the man?"

  "The fellow _must_ have been intent on revenge," said Jimmie, "toincriminate himself so deeply."

  "That can't make much difference to Hawker, and he knows it," Sir Luciusreplied. "It seems that he was really wanted for something more seriousthan failing to report himself to the police. In fact, as you will besurprised to learn, he is said to be mixed up in the robbery of theRembrandt from Lamb and Drummond. His pal was arrested in Belgium, andhas confessed. Hawker is aware that there is a clear case against him,and I understand that he has made some sensational disclosures. I heardthis from the Governor of Pentonville, who happens to be an old friend ofmine. He hinted that the matter was likely to be made public in a day ortwo."

  "Meaning the theft of the real Rembrandt," said Jack. "I don't supposeit will throw any light on the mystery of the duplicate one."

  "It may," replied Sir Lucius; and he spoke more truly than he thought.Major Wyatt had been too discreet to tell all that he knew.

 

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