Chapter XXVI.Two Men Strike a BargainWalter Brooklyn dined alone in his rooms. As a rule, a single Club waiter would have been deputed to attend upon him; but this evening he noticed that no less than four found an excuse for coming to help. Each course was brought to table by a different hand; for the whole Club staff were curious to get a good look at the member who had been miraculously delivered from jail and the gallows. That very afternoon, when they had discussed the case, they had all been taking his guilt for granted, picturing him in his lonely cell devouring the skilly of adversity; and now here he was back again amongst them, eating an excellent dinner as if nothing out of the way had occurred. If Carter Woodman had been there to express his continued confidence that Walter Brooklyn was guilty, he would, despite the release, not have lacked supporters among the Club servants; for Walter Brooklyn was not an easy man to like, especially for his social inferiors. But this evening those who were most convinced of his guilt were also anxious to take part in waiting upon him. There is a thrill to be got by close personal contact with a real murderer.Downstairs, Walter Brooklyn had no doubt, the dining-room and the smoking-rooms, as well as the servants’ quarters, were busy with the news of his release. Among the Club members, as among the servants, there would be differences of opinion; and he felt he could name certain members who would be vigorously affirming their belief that the police made a mistake, not when they arrested him, but when they let him go. The spiteful old johnnies, he said to himself, would gladly see him hanged. Their disappointment added to the pleasure of being a free man. And this was really a first-rate dinner. The Byron had its faults; but they did know how to cook.Indeed, the more Walter thought about the new situation, the better he was pleased. His two inconvenient nephews were safely out of the way; and he had an excellent chance of becoming an exceedingly rich man. He smiled to himself as he counted his chickens. True, there were immediate troubles to be faced. He must have money now. But he was sure Woodman couldn’t be fool enough to refuse the terms he was in a position to offer. Supposing even that he did refuse, there was still the way of going direct to old Vernon.By the way, how was old Vernon? That dinner had been so good that the idea of telephoning to Liskeard House to inquire had gone clean out of his head. He would do it now. It would be the very devil if the old chap were to go and alter his will. The chances were he wasn’t well enough to do it. He would ring up at once and inquire after him. It would be only decent. After all, the man was his brother.Winter’s voice over the telephone informed him that Sir Vernon had taken an alarming turn for the worse. His condition was said to be critical, but not hopeless. The doctor was with him now. Sir Vernon had been unconscious for some time. Winter promised to ring up and give the doctor’s further report later in the evening.Walter Brooklyn was duly sympathetic; and there was in him indeed some real feeling for his brother. But the thought uppermost in his mind was that, if old Vernon would only be obliging enough to die, it would be from his brother’s point of view a very happy release. If only the will had not been altered already without his knowing about it. A horrible thought: not likely, perhaps, but disquieting all the same. How badly he wanted to see Carter Woodman in order to make sure. Poor old Vernon would never live to alter his will now. Everything depended on the terms of the will now in force. It was probably all right; but he would give something to know for certain. And, if Sir Vernon would only die now and get it over, there would be no need to bribe Woodman for an advance. The money would be his then. Should he wait and risk it? No; old men often took so unconscionably long a-dying. If things came right, he would never miss what he would have to give Woodman for the sake of immediate security. The telephone rang. It was Winter. The doctor had just left. Sir Vernon’s condition was very critical, but the doctor said it was still not hopeless. He might rally and get well. But any shock would certainly be fatal. The doctor was coming again later. Should he ’phone up again? Brooklyn asked him to do so, and rang off. Yes, he must certainly see Woodman, unless old Vernon was obliging enough to die in the night.Turning these things over in his mind, Walter Brooklyn sat, until a pleasant drowsiness came over him. He woke with a start. It was after eleven. Was not that a knock at the door? “Come in,” he said.When he saw who his visitor was, he greeted him warmly. “This is quite unexpected,” he said, “but I am very glad you have come. Have a whisky.” Carter Woodman nodded. “I found I could get here after all this evening,” he said. Then he mixed himself a good stiff whisky, silently refilled Brooklyn’s glass for him, and sank into a chair.“What was it you wanted to see me about?” he asked. “Money, as usual, I suppose.”Brooklyn nodded. “A man must live, you know,” he said.“Your idea of living has always been one that runs away with the money, my dear chap,” said Woodman, with a laugh.“Never mind that. I want some now.”“But you know that Sir Vernon, through Prinsep, gave me positive instructions that I should only give you money on one condition.”“Isn’t the position a bit different now, Woodman? I mean since what happened last week.”Woodman paused a moment. “There is a difference,” he said, “but clearly I cannot advance you money without authority from Sir Vernon, and he is far too ill to be troubled about such things at present.”“I don’t want you to trouble him. But I should have thought that, in the new circumstances, you would make no difficulty about advancing me a loan. I want £10,000 to clear off debts, and a few thousands to get along with for the present.”“My dear fellow, do you think I carry ten thousand pounds loose in my pocket?”“I think you could get me an advance of more than that amount if you chose.”“But Sir Vernon may alter his will.”These words of Woodman’s brought great comfort to Walter Brooklyn’s heart. They proved at least that, as the will stood, he would come in for a considerable sum on his brother’s death. He was emboldened to make a definite proposal.“Look here, Woodman, you know what is in the will. I want you to advance me twenty thousand pounds at once on the strength of my expectations under it. There’s no risk, practically; what there is, I’m prepared to pay for. If you let me have twenty thousand now, you shall have thirty thousand when Sir Vernon dies.”“Good heavens, do you think I’m rolling in money? If I had twenty thousand to spare I couldn’t risk it on a pure gamble like that. The odds are that Sir Vernon will alter his will, or you may die before he does. Where should I be then?”“I should imagine in that case you would get a big slice of the money yourself.”“But, really, that’s no reason why I should give it to you. What you propose is absurd.”“You know very well, Woodman, that it is not absurd. But, if you don’t like my proposal, make one of your own. What I want is twenty thousand pounds and a regular income assured until old Vernon dies.”“My word, you don’t want much,” was Woodman’s comment; but his brain was working actively. He was, in fact, in quite as dire straits for money as Walter Brooklyn himself. Lately, his position was worse; for heavy stock exchange speculation had brought him to the point of certain bankruptcy unless he could raise a considerable sum at once. His mind went to work on a definite scheme, which indeed he had conceived before ever he came to visit Walter Brooklyn. While he perfected his plan, he continued to protest the impossibility of doing what Walter suggested. Before making his proposal he wanted to be sure how far the man to whom he was speaking knew what Sir Vernon Brooklyn’s will contained. Twenty thousand pounds, he suggested, was a big sum to ask for on the strength of expectations under the will. He saw at once that this line of argument made Walter Brooklyn anxious, and before long he had convinced himself that Sir Vernon’s brother had no certain knowledge of the provisions of the will. Then he was ready to spring his audacious proposal.“Look here, Brooklyn, I’ve been thinking it over, and we may be able to manage something. I’ll try to get you that twenty thousand pounds on condition that you make over to me one-half of your expectation under the will.”“You’re asking me to buy a pig in a poke,” was Walter Brooklyn’s answer. “You know the details of the will, and I’m willing to tell you that I don’t. I can’t accept your terms; but I’m willing to pay you forty thousand pounds when I get the money if you let me have twenty down. Isn’t that a fair proportion?”“Considering the risk, certainly not. But I’m willing to make an alternative suggestion. Under the will, Joan and Mrs. George Brooklyn are both amply provided for. The inheritance of the rest of Sir Vernon’s money probably lies between you and me, whether the will is altered or not. I suggest that we make an agreement to go equal shares in whatever is left to either of us. I add one condition, that you should draw up a new will, making me the heir to your estate.”“You stand to get the lot that way, whatever happens. I can see that it is very nice indeed from your point of view. And what, may I ask, do you offer me in exchange?”“Twenty thousand pounds down, which I can borrow on the strength of our joint expectations, and I’m willing to add two thousand a year until Sir Vernon dies. And in addition, I offer you the security that, even if Sir Vernon cuts you out of his will, you will still get your share of the money.”“But, if Sir Vernon dies now—he’s pretty bad, they tell me—the effect of it will be that I shall be making you a pretty handsome present.”“And I shall be presenting you with twenty thousand pounds in hard cash.”They wrangled for some time longer; but Walter Brooklyn, in ignorance of the precise terms of the will, was at a serious disadvantage. Finally, he agreed to Carter Woodman’s terms; and Woodman at once sat down and drafted out a written agreement putting their compact into definite terms. He also drew up, in a few lines, a will constituting himself Walter Brooklyn’s heir.“Now, we must get these documents signed and witnessed,” he said.“There will be some one about downstairs,” said Brooklyn heavily. He had an uneasy feeling that he was being badly swindled; but twenty thousand pounds down was the main thing. Besides, he might find ways, though Woodman was a cute lawyer, of repudiating the bargain later, if it proved to his interest to do so.There were two documents to be witnessed—the will and the agreement. The I.O.U., which was Woodman’s further security for the £20,000, would not, of course, be signed until the money was actually paid over. The two men went downstairs, found the night-porter and a waiter who had not yet gone to bed, and completed the two documents in their presence. Then, taking the will and his copy of the agreement, Woodman bade Walter Brooklyn good-night, receiving a not very cordial response. His first business on the morrow would be to use the two documents and the joint expectation of the two men under Sir Vernon’s will, as a means of raising at once, not merely the £20,000 for Walter Brooklyn, but the much larger sum of which he himself stood immediately in need. He thought he knew a man who would let him have the money. If he failed, bankruptcy was inevitable. Woodman congratulated himself on a good night’s work. Already his chestnuts were half out of the fire.Walter Brooklyn, when Woodman had gone, sat down again in his chair with a heavy sigh. He was very conscious that he had been swindled. Carter Woodman knew the terms of Sir Vernon’s will, and he did not; and it was certain that, with this knowledge to help him, Woodman had struck a hard bargain. Moreover, he not only knew the will: he was in a very strong position, as Sir Vernon’s legal adviser, to prevent the making of a new one which would be disadvantageous to him. Woodman was almost safe to score, whatever might happen. But there was solid comfort in the thought that, under the compact they had just made, it was to Woodman’s interest that Walter should get the largest possible slice of Sir Vernon’s money. Whatever came to Walter was to become Woodman’s in time. Woodman, therefore, would be bound to do his best to serve Walter’s interests. Yes, there were compensations in being swindled on such terms. Walter stood a good chance of wealth for as long as he lived; and what did it matter to him who might get the money after his death?“After me, the deluge,” said Walter Brooklyn to himself, summing up the evening’s transaction.
Walter Brooklyn dined alone in his rooms. As a rule, a single Club waiter would have been deputed to attend upon him; but this evening he noticed that no less than four found an excuse for coming to help. Each course was brought to table by a different hand; for the whole Club staff were curious to get a good look at the member who had been miraculously delivered from jail and the gallows. That very afternoon, when they had discussed the case, they had all been taking his guilt for granted, picturing him in his lonely cell devouring the skilly of adversity; and now here he was back again amongst them, eating an excellent dinner as if nothing out of the way had occurred. If Carter Woodman had been there to express his continued confidence that Walter Brooklyn was guilty, he would, despite the release, not have lacked supporters among the Club servants; for Walter Brooklyn was not an easy man to like, especially for his social inferiors. But this evening those who were most convinced of his guilt were also anxious to take part in waiting upon him. There is a thrill to be got by close personal contact with a real murderer.
Downstairs, Walter Brooklyn had no doubt, the dining-room and the smoking-rooms, as well as the servants’ quarters, were busy with the news of his release. Among the Club members, as among the servants, there would be differences of opinion; and he felt he could name certain members who would be vigorously affirming their belief that the police made a mistake, not when they arrested him, but when they let him go. The spiteful old johnnies, he said to himself, would gladly see him hanged. Their disappointment added to the pleasure of being a free man. And this was really a first-rate dinner. The Byron had its faults; but they did know how to cook.
Indeed, the more Walter thought about the new situation, the better he was pleased. His two inconvenient nephews were safely out of the way; and he had an excellent chance of becoming an exceedingly rich man. He smiled to himself as he counted his chickens. True, there were immediate troubles to be faced. He must have money now. But he was sure Woodman couldn’t be fool enough to refuse the terms he was in a position to offer. Supposing even that he did refuse, there was still the way of going direct to old Vernon.
By the way, how was old Vernon? That dinner had been so good that the idea of telephoning to Liskeard House to inquire had gone clean out of his head. He would do it now. It would be the very devil if the old chap were to go and alter his will. The chances were he wasn’t well enough to do it. He would ring up at once and inquire after him. It would be only decent. After all, the man was his brother.
Winter’s voice over the telephone informed him that Sir Vernon had taken an alarming turn for the worse. His condition was said to be critical, but not hopeless. The doctor was with him now. Sir Vernon had been unconscious for some time. Winter promised to ring up and give the doctor’s further report later in the evening.
Walter Brooklyn was duly sympathetic; and there was in him indeed some real feeling for his brother. But the thought uppermost in his mind was that, if old Vernon would only be obliging enough to die, it would be from his brother’s point of view a very happy release. If only the will had not been altered already without his knowing about it. A horrible thought: not likely, perhaps, but disquieting all the same. How badly he wanted to see Carter Woodman in order to make sure. Poor old Vernon would never live to alter his will now. Everything depended on the terms of the will now in force. It was probably all right; but he would give something to know for certain. And, if Sir Vernon would only die now and get it over, there would be no need to bribe Woodman for an advance. The money would be his then. Should he wait and risk it? No; old men often took so unconscionably long a-dying. If things came right, he would never miss what he would have to give Woodman for the sake of immediate security. The telephone rang. It was Winter. The doctor had just left. Sir Vernon’s condition was very critical, but the doctor said it was still not hopeless. He might rally and get well. But any shock would certainly be fatal. The doctor was coming again later. Should he ’phone up again? Brooklyn asked him to do so, and rang off. Yes, he must certainly see Woodman, unless old Vernon was obliging enough to die in the night.
Turning these things over in his mind, Walter Brooklyn sat, until a pleasant drowsiness came over him. He woke with a start. It was after eleven. Was not that a knock at the door? “Come in,” he said.
When he saw who his visitor was, he greeted him warmly. “This is quite unexpected,” he said, “but I am very glad you have come. Have a whisky.” Carter Woodman nodded. “I found I could get here after all this evening,” he said. Then he mixed himself a good stiff whisky, silently refilled Brooklyn’s glass for him, and sank into a chair.
“What was it you wanted to see me about?” he asked. “Money, as usual, I suppose.”
Brooklyn nodded. “A man must live, you know,” he said.
“Your idea of living has always been one that runs away with the money, my dear chap,” said Woodman, with a laugh.
“Never mind that. I want some now.”
“But you know that Sir Vernon, through Prinsep, gave me positive instructions that I should only give you money on one condition.”
“Isn’t the position a bit different now, Woodman? I mean since what happened last week.”
Woodman paused a moment. “There is a difference,” he said, “but clearly I cannot advance you money without authority from Sir Vernon, and he is far too ill to be troubled about such things at present.”
“I don’t want you to trouble him. But I should have thought that, in the new circumstances, you would make no difficulty about advancing me a loan. I want £10,000 to clear off debts, and a few thousands to get along with for the present.”
“My dear fellow, do you think I carry ten thousand pounds loose in my pocket?”
“I think you could get me an advance of more than that amount if you chose.”
“But Sir Vernon may alter his will.”
These words of Woodman’s brought great comfort to Walter Brooklyn’s heart. They proved at least that, as the will stood, he would come in for a considerable sum on his brother’s death. He was emboldened to make a definite proposal.
“Look here, Woodman, you know what is in the will. I want you to advance me twenty thousand pounds at once on the strength of my expectations under it. There’s no risk, practically; what there is, I’m prepared to pay for. If you let me have twenty thousand now, you shall have thirty thousand when Sir Vernon dies.”
“Good heavens, do you think I’m rolling in money? If I had twenty thousand to spare I couldn’t risk it on a pure gamble like that. The odds are that Sir Vernon will alter his will, or you may die before he does. Where should I be then?”
“I should imagine in that case you would get a big slice of the money yourself.”
“But, really, that’s no reason why I should give it to you. What you propose is absurd.”
“You know very well, Woodman, that it is not absurd. But, if you don’t like my proposal, make one of your own. What I want is twenty thousand pounds and a regular income assured until old Vernon dies.”
“My word, you don’t want much,” was Woodman’s comment; but his brain was working actively. He was, in fact, in quite as dire straits for money as Walter Brooklyn himself. Lately, his position was worse; for heavy stock exchange speculation had brought him to the point of certain bankruptcy unless he could raise a considerable sum at once. His mind went to work on a definite scheme, which indeed he had conceived before ever he came to visit Walter Brooklyn. While he perfected his plan, he continued to protest the impossibility of doing what Walter suggested. Before making his proposal he wanted to be sure how far the man to whom he was speaking knew what Sir Vernon Brooklyn’s will contained. Twenty thousand pounds, he suggested, was a big sum to ask for on the strength of expectations under the will. He saw at once that this line of argument made Walter Brooklyn anxious, and before long he had convinced himself that Sir Vernon’s brother had no certain knowledge of the provisions of the will. Then he was ready to spring his audacious proposal.
“Look here, Brooklyn, I’ve been thinking it over, and we may be able to manage something. I’ll try to get you that twenty thousand pounds on condition that you make over to me one-half of your expectation under the will.”
“You’re asking me to buy a pig in a poke,” was Walter Brooklyn’s answer. “You know the details of the will, and I’m willing to tell you that I don’t. I can’t accept your terms; but I’m willing to pay you forty thousand pounds when I get the money if you let me have twenty down. Isn’t that a fair proportion?”
“Considering the risk, certainly not. But I’m willing to make an alternative suggestion. Under the will, Joan and Mrs. George Brooklyn are both amply provided for. The inheritance of the rest of Sir Vernon’s money probably lies between you and me, whether the will is altered or not. I suggest that we make an agreement to go equal shares in whatever is left to either of us. I add one condition, that you should draw up a new will, making me the heir to your estate.”
“You stand to get the lot that way, whatever happens. I can see that it is very nice indeed from your point of view. And what, may I ask, do you offer me in exchange?”
“Twenty thousand pounds down, which I can borrow on the strength of our joint expectations, and I’m willing to add two thousand a year until Sir Vernon dies. And in addition, I offer you the security that, even if Sir Vernon cuts you out of his will, you will still get your share of the money.”
“But, if Sir Vernon dies now—he’s pretty bad, they tell me—the effect of it will be that I shall be making you a pretty handsome present.”
“And I shall be presenting you with twenty thousand pounds in hard cash.”
They wrangled for some time longer; but Walter Brooklyn, in ignorance of the precise terms of the will, was at a serious disadvantage. Finally, he agreed to Carter Woodman’s terms; and Woodman at once sat down and drafted out a written agreement putting their compact into definite terms. He also drew up, in a few lines, a will constituting himself Walter Brooklyn’s heir.
“Now, we must get these documents signed and witnessed,” he said.
“There will be some one about downstairs,” said Brooklyn heavily. He had an uneasy feeling that he was being badly swindled; but twenty thousand pounds down was the main thing. Besides, he might find ways, though Woodman was a cute lawyer, of repudiating the bargain later, if it proved to his interest to do so.
There were two documents to be witnessed—the will and the agreement. The I.O.U., which was Woodman’s further security for the £20,000, would not, of course, be signed until the money was actually paid over. The two men went downstairs, found the night-porter and a waiter who had not yet gone to bed, and completed the two documents in their presence. Then, taking the will and his copy of the agreement, Woodman bade Walter Brooklyn good-night, receiving a not very cordial response. His first business on the morrow would be to use the two documents and the joint expectation of the two men under Sir Vernon’s will, as a means of raising at once, not merely the £20,000 for Walter Brooklyn, but the much larger sum of which he himself stood immediately in need. He thought he knew a man who would let him have the money. If he failed, bankruptcy was inevitable. Woodman congratulated himself on a good night’s work. Already his chestnuts were half out of the fire.
Walter Brooklyn, when Woodman had gone, sat down again in his chair with a heavy sigh. He was very conscious that he had been swindled. Carter Woodman knew the terms of Sir Vernon’s will, and he did not; and it was certain that, with this knowledge to help him, Woodman had struck a hard bargain. Moreover, he not only knew the will: he was in a very strong position, as Sir Vernon’s legal adviser, to prevent the making of a new one which would be disadvantageous to him. Woodman was almost safe to score, whatever might happen. But there was solid comfort in the thought that, under the compact they had just made, it was to Woodman’s interest that Walter should get the largest possible slice of Sir Vernon’s money. Whatever came to Walter was to become Woodman’s in time. Woodman, therefore, would be bound to do his best to serve Walter’s interests. Yes, there were compensations in being swindled on such terms. Walter stood a good chance of wealth for as long as he lived; and what did it matter to him who might get the money after his death?
“After me, the deluge,” said Walter Brooklyn to himself, summing up the evening’s transaction.