Читать книгу The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn - Machray Robert - Страница 7

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On the Monday morning Francis Eversleigh did not appear at breakfast.

Mrs. Eversleigh told Ernest that his father was asleep after having passed a wakeful night, and she was sure he would not feel equal to going to the office. When Ernest inquired, as was natural, if she intended sending for a doctor, she replied that a suggestion she had made in the night to that effect had been peremptorily negatived by her husband, who maintained that he was suffering from a slight attack for which it was absurd to call in a physician.

"I am very anxious, however, about him," she said. She paused and looked meditatively at her son. "Do you know, Ernest," she continued, "if your father has on hand some exceptionally difficult business just now, or if there is some client who is giving him cause for unusual anxiety?" She was thinking of Bennet.

"I am quite certain there is absolutely nothing of such gravity as to make him ill," replied Ernest, with conviction. "Why, work goes on at the office from day to day and from month to month with the ease and regularity of machinery. But why do you ask this, mother?"

"Because it has occurred to me that there is something on your father's mind, and it is that which is making him ill."

"Indeed! Oh, I think you must be mistaken, mother."

"I hope so," she rejoined, but not in a really hopeful tone. "One of the things which perplex me is that he seems to take very little pleasure in the engagement of Kitty and Gilbert—that is strange, is it not? Then again, you would suppose he would be looking forward with interest to seeing his old friend Morris Thornton once more, yet, when I referred to it, he spoke in such a queer way. I can't understand him at all."

As Ernest was about to speak Miss Kitty Thornton entered the room, and conversation passed to other topics. And as for Kitty herself, her brilliant beauty appeared to have been enhanced by the happy event of her engagement, for never had she looked so lovely as she did that morning, and there was on her face a light of happiness which was good to see.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Ernest asked Kitty. "Can I carry a message, for instance," he went on, with a grin, rising to leave the room, "to a certain barrister in the Temple?"

But Miss Kitty merely smiled and shook her pretty head.

"I won't have her teased," said Mrs. Eversleigh; but the offender had already vanished.

When Silwood reached his room in New Square he found not only Williamson waiting as usual, but also Ernest Eversleigh.

"I am sorry to have to tell you," said Ernest, "that my father is indisposed. He will not be here to-day."

"Mr. Eversleigh ill!" exclaimed Silwood, and stopped; inwardly he termed Eversleigh a poor weak fool without a particle of grit. Aloud he said, clicking out the words stiffly, "I am very sorry to hear it. What is the trouble?"

"I don't think it is anything serious; he'll be all right by to-morrow."

"He did not send me any message?"

"He was asleep when I left the house. Mother told me he had been awake most of the night, but had dozed off towards morning."

"I see. There was something I expected to hear from him, but it's possible you can tell me. It's just this. We received a letter on Saturday from Mr. Morris Thornton, in which he informed us that he was leaving Canada for England. Well, though he spoke of being here very soon, he did not give us any exact date. Of course, it is no great matter, but it seems just a little curious."

"It must have been an oversight," said Williamson.

"Perhaps so," assented Silwood.

"I am not certain of that," remarked Ernest.

"You have heard something?" queried Silwood.

"Miss Thornton has heard from her father——"

"I had an idea she might have definite word as to the date of her father's arrival," interposed Silwood. "Not, as I told you before, that it matters; it is only that one likes to satisfy one's curiosity sometimes."

Thus carefully did Silwood minimize the interest he took in the date of Thornton's arrival in London. Certainly, Ernest Eversleigh had no suspicion of the vital importance the subject possessed, and Silwood's manner was so natural that even Williamson was put off the scent.

"Miss Thornton," said Ernest, "had a letter also on Saturday; but her father did not specify the date of his coming to her either, the reason being, he told her, that he wishes to give her a pleasant surprise by dropping in on her when she isn't expecting him. Still, he said enough to make her expect him some day next week."

"Some day next week!" repeated Silwood, with an indrawing of the breath. Then he continued in an ordinary tone, "He wishes to give her a surprise; that seems to me rather odd."

"It is," agreed Ernest; and then he smiled.

"There is something more," suggested Silwood, seeing the smile.

"I was thinking," rejoined Ernest, laughing a little, "that the surprise will not be all on one side. Miss Kitty has prepared a surprise for him too."

"Indeed!"

"Yes. Kitty and Gilbert are engaged to be married."

"Oh! Since when?"

"Saturday night. I wonder what Mr. Thornton will say about it!"

"I wonder!" echoed Silwood; but this subject did not concern him greatly, and he turned to his letters.

Ernest took the hint, and left Silwood with Williamson. After a short talk about current business, Silwood sent away the head-clerk, having given him instructions to attend to any urgent matter in Francis Eversleigh's department which required immediate attention.

"So Morris Thornton comes next week," he said to himself when alone—"next week—next week. The time is short—very short—and there is much to do."

Silwood, to all appearance, went on with his work as usual, but in reality he was thinking out the situation. What, he asked, did Francis Eversleigh mean by absenting himself from the office—the plea of illness was transparently absurd; and did he intend to go on absenting himself? That could not be allowed, thought Silwood; it would never do. And Thornton was to be in London next week! Silwood, therefore, resolved to go to Surbiton that afternoon to see Eversleigh.

His resolve did not need any strengthening, but something occurred which would have supplied it had it been required.

This was the receipt of a telegram from Harry Bennet, telling the firm that he had passed a demand draft on it for two thousand pounds.

Silwood, having explained to Ernest that he particularly wished to see his father, not only to see how he was, but also to consult him with respect to Bennet's affairs, accompanied the young man to Ivydene.

Silwood had not seen Francis Eversleigh since he had made his confession to him on the Saturday forenoon, and even his phlegm was disturbed by the change worked in twenty-four hours on Francis, who looked broken and seriously ill. The meeting was an intensely painful one to Eversleigh; indeed, he thought at first of declining to see Silwood, but changed his mind.

Silwood saw Eversleigh in the latter's bedroom.

"Francis," said he, in a stiff, formal tone, "I am very sorry to see you like this. You take things too much to heart. It's a bad blow, I know—a terrible blow. I can't tell you how bitterly I regret what I've done—how I repent of it."

Eversleigh looked at him strangely. Ever since Silwood had confessed his guilt there had been moments when Eversleigh felt he could murder Silwood. And now that Silwood was before him, he fiercely asked himself why he should not kill like a rat this man whom he had trusted so implicitly, and who had betrayed that trust so shamefully. Did the man not deserve death? Was anything too bad for him? And these questions were in his eyes as they fixed themselves on Silwood.

"I don't suppose you came here," he said, in a strained voice that had a curious hissing sound about it, "to tell me this."

"To tell you this, Frank," observed Silwood, meeting fully the other's gaze, "and other things too."

"What other things?" he asked hoarsely, glancing away from Silwood. Already his impulse of murder was passing away from his wavering mind; he was telling himself that if he killed Silwood the lot of his wife and family would only be the more desperate.

Silwood all the while was regarding him intently. He was trying to read Eversleigh's mind, and he came to the conclusion that Eversleigh was capable of committing suicide or some other rash act.

"Before speaking of these, Frank," replied Silwood, "let me beg of you not to fret too much. What is the use of dwelling on what is past and cannot now be mended?"

"How can I help it?"

"You must try. For one thing, you must come to the office. It is surely better to attend to your work at the office——"

"To attend to my work!" broke in Eversleigh. "How can I, when all my thoughts are centred on one thing—the ruin that is coming upon me and those innocent ones who must suffer? To attend to my work is impossible!"

"Surely not."

"You know—no one better—that for years I have never attended to my work properly. Do not think that I consider myself free from blame. I ought never to have allowed you to get control of the whole finances of the firm. It was my duty to have made inquiry, and to have seen that everything belonging to our clients was in perfect order. I have been criminally neglectful—I see that very clearly;" and as he spoke his own condemnation there was a sob in his throat.

"Yes; but how does all this prevent you from coming to the office? Is it not just the other way? And for a short time there is no reason to be afraid. What we have to dread most is the coming of Morris Thornton, and that, I hear, will not be till some time next week. That gives us a little breathing-space."

"Till some time next week!" said Eversleigh. "That's not much of a respite."

"Still, it's something. But there is another thing I have to tell you."

"What's that?" dully asked Eversleigh, telling himself that at any rate he knew the worst.

"We got a telegram from Bennet saying he was drawing on us for two thousand pounds."

"Well, can't we pay it?"

"Certainly; but it is inconvenient. The withdrawal of this sum from our bank account seriously reduces our balance."

"What is our balance?"

"About six thousand. With care, and if it were not for the coming of Thornton, we might be able to carry on for a long time."

"I have been thinking over our affairs," said Eversleigh, "since you spoke to me yesterday, and it seems to me we ought to call in a first-class accountant to make a thorough investigation."

"And what would be the inevitable result?" asked Silwood, drily.

"We should know—I should know—how we stand."

"But I know quite well."

"I suppose so. What is the amount of your—of our, I suppose I must say—defalcations?"

"About four hundred thousand. That would be a nice thing for an accountant to discover, to certify to! No, Francis, it is absurd to call in an accountant. It would not be long before he found out we were insolvent, and—defaulters. What service would that be to you or to the firm? None whatever."

"No, perhaps it would not do," acquiesced Eversleigh, weakly. "You said four hundred thousand. How could you have been such a fool as to lose so much money? Four hundred thousand!"

"I was a fool, Frank. But it's easy enough for a wise man to lose more than that on the Stock Exchange."

"Well," sighed Eversleigh, hopelessly, "I don't know what's to be done."

"Why, nothing at present. And perhaps, Francis, your personal position is not so bad. Ernest told me of the engagement of Miss Thornton to Gilbert. That, surely, is an excellent thing for you. When her father finds out the state of affairs he will be silent. He will certainly not care to prosecute the father of his daughter's accepted husband, will he?"

"He will insist on the engagement being broken off."

"Perhaps, but perhaps not. Leaving that aside, have you thought of the scheme I mentioned——?"

"Yes, yes; I have considered it," replied Eversleigh; then he looked at Silwood wonderingly, and said, "You take our position—my position—very coolly, Cooper. One would think you had no real conception of what you have done."

"Well," rejoined Silwood, hardily, "you see, it is all new to you, Francis, but it is no novelty to me. I have been familiar with our position for a long time—for years. But this is quite beside the point. Let us come to business. Do you intend to adopt my scheme?"

"I do not," said Eversleigh, firmly. "It is preposterous."

"If you will be advised by me——"

"Not in this," Eversleigh cried excitedly, "not in this. Would to God I had never been born!" he exclaimed. And he begged Silwood to leave him, promising to be at the office, however, next day.

As Silwood travelled back to town there was a singular and enigmatic expression on his face; he was thinking that Eversleigh's consent to what he had proposed was not essential, and, this being so, that he would act alone.