The Moon Rock

by Arthur J. Rees

  CHAPTER XX

  When the interview with Austin Turold did take place, Mr. Brimsdown learntwith a feeling which was little less than astonishment that Robert Turoldhad died without confiding to his brother the proofs, on which so muchdepended, of the statement he had made on the day of his death.

  "I cannot understand it," he murmured, putting down his tea-cup as hespoke.

  Austin had received him in the blue sitting-room, hung with the specimensof Mr. Brierly's ineffectual art, and had given him tea, as he had givenBarrant tea some days before. But there was a subtle difference in themanner of Mr. Brimsdown's reception; the tone was pitched higher, withfine shades and inflections attuned for a more gentlemanly ear.

  "It disposes of the suicide theory finally and utterly," added the lawyerthoughtfully.

  "The suicide theory disappeared with Robert's daughter," said Austin,glancing at his son, who had taken no part in the conversation.

  "You think her disappearance suggests guilt?" asked Mr. Brimsdown.

  "It hardly suggests innocence, does it?"

  "I would not like to hazard an opinion," responded Mr. Brimsdown, with athoughtful shake of the head. "My experience of women is that they arecapable of the strangest acts without weighing the consequences."

  "That was before the war, when women were delightfully irrationalcreatures, but now they're no longer so. They've become practical andcoarse, like men. They smoke, drink, and tell improper stories with demureexpression and heads a little on one side like overwise sparrows."

  "Was Robert Turold's daughter a girl of this sort?" asked the lawyer insurprise.

  "She was not."

  It was Charles Turold who made answer, with an angry glance at his father.Austin, looking at him, gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.Slight as the warning was, it was intercepted by Mr. Brimsdown's watchfuleye, and he wondered what it meant.

  "I do not think any useful purpose can be gained by discussing mybrother's death," Austin interposed, turning to him. "It is a very painfulsubject, and does no good. The police are endeavouring to unravel themystery--let us leave it to them."

  "I was merely going to say that your brother would have given you theproofs of this statement about his marriage if he had meditatedself-destruction," Mr. Brimsdown observed. "The proofs must be inexistence, of course, but I do not think that they are at Flint House. Didyour brother confide the information to you beforehand--before his publicannouncement, I mean?"

  "Shortly before his death he hinted to me of some very importantdisclosure which he intended to make at the proper time--some familymatter--but he did not say what it was, nor did I ask him."

  His son looked at him quickly, and the lawyer doubtfully, as he made thisstatement, but his own glance sustained both looks serenely and equably.

  "My brother did inform me, a week ago, that I would succeed to hisfortune," he added.

  "That proves that your brother was aware of the illegality of his marriageat that time," said Mr. Brimsdown, with an air of conviction.

  "Why so?"

  "Because you could not succeed to the Turrald title if your brother'sdaughter was legitimate."

  "That would not prevent my brother disposing of his property as he thoughtfit," remarked Austin coldly.

  "I am aware of that," replied Mr. Brimsdown guardedly. He refrained fromstating what was obvious to him, that Robert Turold had intended hisfortune for the upkeep of the title when gained, and for no other purpose."After all, it does not matter very much how long your brother was awareof the fact. The great point is--where are the proofs? I cannot understandwhy your brother did not send them on to me. I intend to make another andlonger search among his papers at Flint House. They must be found. TheHouse of Lords will require the most convincing proof on this head beforeterminating the abeyance in your favour."

  "If I proceed with the claim, you mean," said Austin.

  The lawyer turned on him a startled glance which had something ofconsternation in it. His own interest in the title, was, by force of longassociation with Robert Turold, so deep and intimate that it had neveroccurred to him to suppose that the younger brother might not share in theobsession of the elder.

  "Titles are at a discount nowadays--like virtuous women," proceededAustin. "The most extraordinary people have them. Are you aware that therewere nearly four thousand names in the last Royal bestowal of Orders ofthe British Empire? There's kingly munificence for you! It's the same withthe Masonic order. The gentleman you address as 'Right Worshipful Sir'overnight delivers poultry and rabbits at your back door next morning.Democracy has come into its own, Brimsdown. Sooner or later we shall havea king wearing a cloth cap."

  "Your remarks do not apply to the old nobility," returned Mr. Brimsdownausterely. "They will never become common. It would be a pity not toprosecute your brother's claim to the Turrald title. He gave thirty yearsof his life to establishing the line of descent."

  "My brother had the temperament of a visionary," replied Austin. "I ammore practical. But I shall respect his wishes, if possible, though fromwhat you say it would seem to be quite useless to go on with the claim ifthe missing proofs about his wife's previous marriage are not recovered."

  "That is quite true," Mr. Brimsdown admitted. "But I feel sure that theyare in existence, somewhere. Your brother Robert was not the man to make astatement of that kind without the proofs. He knew the value ofdocumentary evidence too well for that."

  "But so far the proof of his daughter's illegitimacy rests on hisunsupported statement, which would be quite valueless in a court of law?"

  "That is so."

  "If these proofs are found, do you think that my chance of regaining thetitle is as good as Robert's?" Austin asked. "Are the circumstances of hisdeath likely to tell against my succeeding? I ask you because I knownothing about peerage law."

  "The House of Lords has inherent rights of its own in regard to thegranting of any claim," replied the lawyer carefully, "rights as theguardian of its own privileges. I do not think, however, that your claimwould be rejected. The line of descent is clear, if the proofs of yourbrother's statement are found. The Turrald barony is a parliamentarypeerage which descends to a sole daughter. You can only succeed yourbrother in the line of descent if she is illegitimate."

  "In any case the present claim could not be gone on with, could it?"

  "No. That must be withdrawn. I will write to the Home Secretaryacquainting him with your brother's death. Later on, if we find theproofs, another claim can be prepared on your behalf."

  "If I decide to go on with it."

  "I trust that you will," said the lawyer. "It was your brother's dream torestore the title with a male line of descent."

  "His dream will be fruitless so far as I am concerned," said CharlesTurold, who had been listening intently to this conversation. "I shallhave nothing to do with this title." He got up, and strode abruptly fromthe room without another word.

  Mr. Brimsdown was a little surprised at the lack of manners evinced bythis precipitate departure, but arose without speaking to take his ownleave. Austin did not offer to escort him downstairs. He rang the bell,which was answered by the gaunt maid who had been engaged to sit asBritannia or the Madonna, and to her he consigned his departing visitorafter a soft pressure of his white hand.

  The maid preceded the lawyer down the staircase with a martial step whichoutstripped his, and waited at the foot for him to complete the descent.As Mr. Brimsdown reached the last stair, a door immediately oppositeopened, and a lady came out. Mr. Brimsdown glanced at her casually inpassing, and encountered her glance in return. In that brief look heobserved the dawn of swift surprise in her eyes. Her careworn faceflushed, and she made an eager step forward, as though about to speak.Somewhat surprised at this action on her part, Mr. Brimsdown hesitated,then, reflecting that he had probably misinterpreted a chance movement onthe part of a perfect stranger, went towards the door, which the maid washolding open for him. As he passed through he glanced back, and to his
astonishment saw the woman in the passage still standing in the same spot,staring fixedly after him, apparently in a state of consternation oramazement, he could not say which.

  He went out of the door with a vision of her questioning gaze followinghim as far as she could see him. He did not think any more of it justthen. A lowering sky suggested rain, and he set off at a round pace forthe inn where he had left the vehicle which had brought him to thechurchtown.

  But quickly as he walked, a footstep behind him was quicker still, and heturned involuntarily to see who was following. Another surprise was instore for him. The tall figure hurrying after him, with the evidentintention of overtaking him, was Charles Turold. The lawyer stood stilland waited for him.

  "I have come after you to tell you something," Charles said abruptly,"something that you ought to know. You were questioning my father aboutthe facts of this case--about my uncle's death. You did not learn anythingfrom him, but I can tell you my cousin Sisily is innocent."

  He brought out these words with a breathlessness which may have been theresult of his haste. The calmness of the lawyer's reply was in markedcontrast.

  "Is this merely an assertion, Mr. Turold?"

  "It is more than an assertion. I can prove it to you."

  Mr. Brimsdown was startled. "What do you mean by that?" he asked.

  "If you will come to Flint House I will show you."

  Mr. Brimsdown stroked the cautious chin of an old man plunged into asituation which he could not fathom. "Would it not be better to consultthe police first?" he temporized.

  "The police are now searching the country for Sisily, and there is no timeto be lost."

  There was something so profoundly unhappy in his appearance that pitystirred in the lawyer's heart. "Very well," he said, with another look atthe lowering sky, "let us go."

  That afternoon remained with the lawyer as another unforgettable memory.It was all of a piece, sombre, yet of a sharp-edged vividness: thedesolation of the moors, the sting of the rain, the clamour of the sea,the seabirds soaring slowly with harsh cries. Then they stood, the pair ofthem, in Robert Turold's bedroom, looking down on the dead man, swathed inhis graveclothes, with a wreath of flowers from Mrs. Pendleton on hisbreast. Removing this symbol of human pretense against the reality ofthings, Charles Turold bared the arm of the corpse, and pointing to itexclaimed--

  "Could those marks have been made by Sisily?"

  In his examination of the marks thus revealed to him, Mr. Brimsdown hadthe strange feeling that their existence was, in some way, thejustification of the dead man's summons to him.

  "Do you know how these marks were made?" he said, turning to Charles.

  "I do not. But I do know that they prove that Sisily is innocent."

  Charles Turold spoke defiantly, but there was a slight note ofinterrogation in his voice which the lawyer chose to ignore.

  "They were made by a man's hand," the young man persisted, lookingearnestly at him.

  "Do the police know of them?"

  "That I cannot tell you."

  Another question was in Mr. Brimsdown's mind, but the young man's haggardface, the mingled misery and expectation of his glance, checked theutterance of it. He had the idea that Charles's manner suggested somethingmore--some revelation yet to come. But the young man did not speak.

  "Is this all you wanted to show me?" Mr. Brimsdown hinted.

  "Is it not enough?"

  "I do not see that it throws any light on Miss Turold's disappearance. Canyou explain that?"

  "How can I explain what I do not know?" Charles was silent for a moment,then added bitterly. "It may be because of her father's inhuman conduct."

  "Robert Turold is dead--do not use that tone in speaking of him," thelawyer counselled.

  Charles turned on him a peculiar look. "Do you think the world is theloser by his death?" he said.

  Mr. Brimsdown was moved out of himself to declare that the death of RobertTurold was a distinct loss to the world. "He was a wonderful man--anotable personality," he said emphatically.

  Charles gave him a moody glance, and there fell upon them a silence socomplete that the dead man in the bed seemed to share in it. The lawyerhad an acute perception of the fact that he had handled the situationbadly. He intuitively realized that he had put himself into the oppositecamp to Charles's sympathies by the uncompromising partisanship of hislast remarks. He was convinced that until that moment, Charles had beenmeditating the question of some further disclosure. Mr. Brimsdownregretted afterwards that he made no effort to gain his confidence. Hefelt that if he had done so events might have taken a different course.But it is difficult to bring youth and age together. Youth sometimesyields to impulse, but not age. The lurking devil of self-consciousnesswhispers caution as the safer quality. Mr. Brimsdown hearkened to thewhisper, and stood there in silence, while the minutes slipped by whichmight have bridged the gap.

  There was a quick step in the passage outside, and the door opened toadmit Detective Barrant. He looked inquiringly from one to the other, andaddressed himself to the lawyer.

  "Are you Mr. Brimsdown?" he asked.

  "That is my name," the lawyer replied.

  "I am Detective Barrant of Scotland Yard. I wish to speak to youprivately."

  His emphasis on the last word was not lost on Charles Turold. With aslight indifferent nod to Mr. Brimsdown he went out of the room, closingthe door quietly behind him.

  "I have come to see you about this letter which you left with InspectorDawfield." Barrant produced the letter and took the single sheet from thegrey envelope.

  "That is the reason of my presence in Cornwall," said Mr. Brimsdown.

  "So I imagined. What can you tell me about it?"

  "Very little, except that I received it by the last post at my chambers inLincoln's Inn Fields the night after Robert Turold's death."

  "But why did he send for you?"

  "That I cannot even guess."

  "You surely must have some idea."

  "If I had I should be only too happy to assist the course of justice byimparting it to you."

  There was a dryness in the tone of this reply which warned Barrant that hehad made a blunder in allowing his irritation to get the better of him.But his private opinion was that the letter was the outcome of some secretof the dead man's which he had imparted to his lawyer. He changed his moodwith supple swiftness, in order to extract the information.

  "This letter suggests certain things," he said, "some secret, perhaps, inRobert Turold's life, of which you may have some inkling. If you will giveme some hint as to what it was, it might be very helpful."

  "Unfortunately, I am as much in the dark as yourself," returned Mr.Brimsdown, rubbing his brow thoughtfully. "I cannot make the faintest guessat the reason which called forth this letter. I know next to nothing of mylate client's private life. He was a man of the utmost reticence inpersonal matters. My relations with him were not of that nature."

  This reply was delivered with a sincerity which it was impossible todoubt. In palpable disappointment Barrant turned to a renewed scrutiny ofthe letter, which he held open in his hand.

  "It is very strange," he muttered.

  "Not the least strange part of it is that I cannot ascertain who postedit," said Mr. Brimsdown, glancing earnestly at the letter. "I askedThalassa, but he says he knows nothing about it."

  "Thalassa is probably lying to you as he has lied to me. One lie more orless would not weigh on his conscience."

  "Why should he tell a lie over such a small thing as the posting of aletter?"

  Barrant did not reply. He was apparently absorbed in examining thepostmarks on the envelope. "Indistinguishable, of course," he muttered,returning the letter to the envelope. "Had Robert Turold any enemies?" heasked.

  "I never heard him speak of any."

  "How did he come by his money?" asked Barrant, struck by a sudden thought."His sister tells me that he made his money abroad."

  "That I cannot tell you."

  "
But you invested his fortune for him, did you not?"

  "I did," the lawyer agreed.

  "In what circumstances?"

  "It is rather a strange story," replied Mr. Brimsdown slowly.

  "I should like to hear it then. It may throw some light on this letter."

  "Let us go into the other room."

  Mr. Brimsdown made this suggestion with a quick glance at his departedclient on the bed, as though he feared some sardonic reproof from thosegrey immobile lips.