"Clarence, old man, it's very good of you to come right away like this. I hope it's not seriously inconvenienced you."
"Not a bit. Between ourselves, I was sitting in the office twiddling my thumbs and wondering what I should do now I'd finished reading the paper."
"I'll give you something to do. Sit down. You've heard what's happened to my uncle?"
"I remember your telling me you were with an uncle, but I don't know how many uncles you have nor to which of them you're referring."
"I have, or, rather, had, only one uncle, and last night he committed suicide in the Brighton train."
"Great Scott! Whatever for?"
"That's it. I'll tell you in as few words as possible what the position is. He's left a daughter, an only child, who is now an orphan, to whom I'm engaged to be married. To her he was not--well, all that a father might have been; he drank, and he womanised."
"Did he? Nice man!"
"That's precisely what he was not--a nice man. She knew very little about his private affairs, though quite as much as she wanted. He may have killed himself because he was financially wrong, though, personally, I doubt it, or for any one of a score of reasons. You'll guess the state of mind she's in."
"Naturally; in a case like that it's those who are left who suffer most."
"Of course. She's anxious, before all else, to know where she stands--that is, to know the worst. His affairs were in the hands of a solicitor named Wilkes."
"I know him--Stephen Wilkes; he's an able man."
"Maybe. But she doesn't want him for her solicitor all the same for that, for reasons on which, later, I may enlarge. She's asked me if I knew anyone who would act for her. I suggested you."
"Thank you, Rodney. You always were a fellow who'd do a chap a good turn if you would."
"Nonsense! Do you think that I don't know you--even in the old schooldays? You're as clever a man as you'd be likely to meet in a long day's journey, and as dependable. You mayn't have the largest practice in London to-day, but you will have. What's more, I'd trust you with my bottom dollar, which is more than you can say of the general run of solicitors nowadays. I told her so."
"I'll try my best to prove worthy of your commendation."
"I've no fear of that, not the least. You may consider Miss Patterson your client, and me; and we may both of us turn out to be quite good clients before we've done. I've asked you to come here in order to give you your first instructions."
"I'm all ears."
"Mr. Wilkes is in possession of my uncle's will; he himself says so.
Miss Patterson wanted him to hand it over to me to pass on to her, but he declined. Can't you persuade him, acting on Miss Patterson's behalf, to produce the will at the earliest possible moment--say this afternoon at four, in her house in Russell Square--and make known its contents then and there? She'll not sleep till she knows the worst."
"I can try what my persuasive powers will do. Presumably he knows its contents?"
"Presumably, since it is even probable that he drew it up."
"By it he may be appointed to some office of trust."
"Exactly. That's one of the things she wants to know; because, if he is, she'll leave no stone unturned to get him out of it. His relations with her father were such that she'll not be induced to have relations of any kind with him."
"I see; that's how it is. Persons may be interested whose presence he may think desirable at the reading and who are not accessible at such short notice."
"There's nothing in that, Clarence. Candidly, some woman may be interested; it's only surmise on my part, but it's possible, and her presence would neither be essential nor advisable. There's the feeling that whatever her father may have done, Wilkes will not be considering her interests only--that's why she wants you. Get him to attend this afternoon in Russell Square with the will; that'll prove to her that I knew what I was about in suggesting you."
"I'll do my utmost, but you clearly understand that I can't force the man. There's an etiquette in such matters; he'll be perfectly in order if he stands on it."
"Do your best, Clarence--that's all I ask, and, if possible, let me know how it's going to be inside an hour. I want to keep Miss Patterson posted in what is taking place. If you only knew what a state of mind she's in!"
When Mr. Parmiter had gone, Rodney, having given instructions that, if it could be avoided, he was not to be disturbed, subjected the contents of the drawers in his uncle's writing-table to a thorough examination. He came across some interesting items. There was a small leather-bound memorandum-book, which was locked. He opened it with a key which was on his uncle's private bunch. In a flap attached to the cover were some cheques which had been duly presented and paid and some other papers. A glance at the contents of the book showed that they principally related to him, after a fashion which occasioned him surprise, blended with amusement. He had no idea that in his uncle the detective instinct had been so strongly developed. He tore the cheques and other papers into tiny bits, made a bonfire of them on an iron shovel, and ground the ashes into powder. The book itself he slipped into his jacket pocket. In one of the drawers was a canvas bag, containing quite a number of gold coins, while in a letter-case were several bank-notes. He put the bag into another of his pockets, just as it was, and transferred the notes to a letter-case of his own. He chanced just then to be hard pressed for ready cash, as, indeed, was his every-day condition. Should certain eventualities arise, the possession of that money might, prove to be of the very first importance. In still another drawer he found an envelope which was endorsed, in his uncle's handwriting, "Draft of my Will." He studied the sheet of ruled foolscap which he took out of it with every appearance of absorbed interest. It was not a very lengthy document.
When he had read it he laid it on the table, drew a long breath, and smiled.
"That's all right! It mayn't be all that Gladys would have liked it to be, but it might have been so much worse; it will serve. A good deal may depend on the exact wording; but, anyhow, between us we ought to be able to shape a will like that so that it shall mean, in the not very far-off future, that I shall be a millionaire--unless I'm a greater fool than I suppose. I'd like to wager a trifle that in me there's the stuff that goes to the making of a modern millionaire, and if the will as it stands is on those lines, it ought to give me at least an outside chance of proving it. Here's to you, Uncle P., and, if people can see from the other side, how happy the knowledge that your daughter and your business are in such capable hands should make you."
A lad came in with an envelope.
"A messenger boy has just brought this, sir."
The note within ran:
"DEAR RODNEY,--I have carried out your first instructions to the letter, so I have begun well. Mr. Wilkes will be in Russell Square this afternoon at four with the will. Unless I hear from you to the contrary, I shall be there at half-past three--to be introduced to Miss Patterson, to receive any further instructions, and to be at hand in case I am wanted generally. You might let me have a message by bearer.--Yours sincerely,
"CLARENCE PARMITER."
CHAPTER XIV
BUSINESS FIRST, PLEASURE AFTERWARDS
That afternoon there were five persons in the drawing-room of the house in Russell Square. Miss Patterson, who was already attired in garments of orthodox hue, in which Rodney felt that she did not look her best. It is your fair, slender women who appear to advantage in black--she was too big and dark. There was Rodney, who was also in mourning, which did become him; but, then, anything became him. He was one of your tall, graceful, well-set-up, debonair, handsome young fellows whom any tailor might find it worth his while to dress at reduced prices for the sake of the advertisement. The other three men also were in black: Mr. Wilkes's dark blue cheeks almost matching his attire; Mr. Parmiter's light hair and pale face standing out in marked relief; Mr. Andrews's general air of colourlessness causing his sombre attire to make him seem older than it need have done. The proceedings were short--unexpectedly short--and to the point. Mr. Wilkes had met Miss Patterson before, and while her almost sullen manner suggested no fondness for him, his brusqueness hinted at no particular attachment for her. The keen-eyed Rodney, observing their demeanour, told himself that the lawyer had been too much the father's friend to care overmuch for the child, which was, perhaps, as well, since it might make things easier.
The inquest was already over. Mr. Wilkes had been present, and had taken with him a physician whom he was aware that Graham Patterson had consulted. He testified that Mr. Patterson was suffering from a malady which would certainly have grown more painful as time went on, and was probably incurable. This statement, since it supplied the motive, caused the inquiry to assume briefer limits than it might have done; the obvious inference was that the knowledge of his parlous state had prompted Graham Patterson to take his fate into his own hands. Nothing could have been clearer to such men of the world as the coroner and his jury. All else that was said and done was mere formality. The doctor who had conducted the autopsy, Mr. Andrews, a police officer connected with the railway company, the guard of the train--all these gave formal evidence. The latter said that he had seen the deceased man come running down the platform at Brighton station just as the train was about to start; that he had noticed him getting into a carriage; that he recognised him when, at East Croydon, his attention had been called to him by the ticket collector, who, going to collect his ticket, found him sitting up in the corner of the carriage, dead.
In view of the physician's evidence, the whole affair was so transparently simple that no one thought of asking if anyone was in the compartment when he entered it at Brighton station. One of the jury did inquire if the train stopped between Brighton and East Croydon. When he was informed that it did not, it was generally felt that there was nothing more to be said. The hackneyed verdict was recorded as a matter of course--suicide while temporarily insane.
The whole affair struck Rodney, when he learnt all the particulars from Andrews, as distinctly droll. He realised that he owed Mr. Wilkes a debt of gratitude of which that gentleman had no notion. The physician had been an unknown quantity; Rodney, who, through devious channels, had heard of a good many things, had never heard of him. Had not the lawyer brought him on to the scene the situation might easily have become very much more difficult--for him. He would not be so hard on Stephen Wilkes as he had meant to be, but in his treatment of him would recognise that, as Parmiter had put it, he was an able man.
The will was the usual wordy, legal document. Stripped of its verbiage it was plain enough. It began with the legacies. A sufficient sum was to be set apart to buy an annuity of one hundred pounds a year for Agnes Sybil Armstrong, of an address at Hove. She was also to have five hundred pounds in cash and the furniture of the house in which she was residing.
Gladys, who had been warned by Rodney that she might expect something of the kind, pursed her lips together and looked at her cousin.
Sitting with expectant eyes fixed on her, he had been waiting for her look, and greeted it with a reassuring smile.
Various legacies were left to servants in Russell Square, to clerks in St. Paul's Churchyard, and to certain trade charities. Five thousand pounds was left to Stephen Wilkes, in recognition of a life-long friendship and of valued services--the lawyer's voice was a trifle hesitant as he read this clause. One thousand pounds in cash and a tenth share in the business were left to Robert Fraser Andrews; and, since the testator's only child was a daughter, he directed that the said Andrews should be appointed manager of his business, under the conditions which followed.
The whole residue of his estate, real and personal, he left to his daughter, Gladys, unreservedly. At this point the cousins again exchanged glances. Andrews was to manage the business for five years; at the end of that period, or in the event of his death, Gladys might appoint his successor, or dispose of the business, whichever she chose. No radical change in the conduct of the business was to be made without consulting her, and she was to have the right of veto. She was to have access to the accounts at all times, with right of comment.
The testator went on to say that Stephen Wilkes had acted as his legal adviser for many years, and to express a strong wish that he would continue in that capacity for his daughter. He hoped that she would consult him freely, both in the conduct of the business and in her affairs generally, and act on his advice. He appointed Robert Fraser Andrews and Stephen Wilkes his executors.
So soon as he had finished the reading of the will Mr. Wilkes observed: