While Ucelli, Syndic of Camajore, was congratulating himself he had played his part so well that he had as little to fear from Gilbert Eversleigh as from the detective Brydges, or the journalist Westgate, who had come to make inquiries respecting the death of Cooper Silwood, Gilbert, on the other hand, was congratulating himself that, owing to the final turn of their conversation, his going on to Rome seemed to the Syndic the right and proper thing to be done.
If Ucelli had suspected Gilbert had a twofold object in view, he would have taken all the means in his power to prevent him from attaining it; but he thought Gilbert had dropped any idea he might have entertained of opening Silwood's grave, and now had no other end than to obtain the necessary authorization by which Silwood's effects would be handed to him. The Syndic's mind, therefore, was at ease.
On his way to the Italian capital, Gilbert considered the situation. He did not doubt that the law with regard to the removal of a cholera-infected body was what Ucelli stated, and he foresaw it might be difficult, perhaps impossible, for him to accomplish his purpose. He hoped, however, that he might put such stress on his belief that in Silwood's grave was no body at all, as would lead the British Ambassador to make strong representations that in this case there could be no danger in opening the grave.
On his arrival in Rome, Gilbert called at the Embassy immediately, only to be told that Lord Prestonkirk, the Ambassador, was not in the city, but was staying at a house he had in the mountains many miles away. Thither, accordingly, Gilbert went, the journey involving the loss of a day, at which he fretted not a little.
The kindness of his reception by Lord Prestonkirk speedily caused him to forget his vexation.
Lord Prestonkirk was one of the ablest and most experienced diplomatists in the English service. He had spent a great many years at the Foreign Office in London, becoming eventually the Permanent Under-Secretary, a position he had occupied with great distinction until the Prime Minister, who was also Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, had offered him the Embassy at Rome.
Gilbert presented his letter of introduction from Sir John Manners, the Ambassador's successor as Permanent Under-Secretary, to Lord Prestonkirk, who at once said he would be very glad to do anything in his power to assist him.
"I have come to your Excellency," said Gilbert, after thanking the Ambassador for his courteous reception, "to consult you confidentially on a very serious matter. I must unfold to you a strange story, and ask for your assistance, or, at least, advice. It is connected with the death of Mr. Silwood, my father's partner."
"I remember hearing of Mr. Silwood's death," said Lord Prestonkirk, "in the north of Italy some weeks ago. Cholera, was it not?"
"So it was said," replied Gilbert. "My father received the intelligence in a letter from the Syndic of Camajore, the place of Mr. Silwood's death; a certificate of the death accompanied the letter. Here they are," Gilbert continued, taking them from his pocket, and placing them before the Ambassador. "Please read them."
"The certificate is in the usual form," said Lord Prestonkirk, "and the Syndic's letter shows that everything was done for the unfortunate man that could be done. That is satisfactory."
"I have just come from Camajore," remarked Gilbert, "where I saw the Syndic. You will notice that in his letter he speaks of Mr. Silwood having left certain effects; they will be handed over to me on my obtaining the proper authority."
"And you wish my help in the matter?"
"Yes, your Excellency; but this is only the beginning. I told you I had a strange story to unfold," said Gilbert. "To put the matter as briefly as possible, I—or rather, I should say, my father and I—have reason to believe that the certificate of Mr. Silwood's death is a false certificate, that the letter of the Syndic is nothing but a clever piece of fiction, and that Silwood is alive."
"What!" exclaimed the Ambassador. "Are you quite serious in making these statements?"
He looked at Gilbert incredulously.
"I certainly should not make them," answered Gilbert, gravely, "unless there was good ground for them. And as I do not believe that Silwood is dead, it follows that I do not believe his body lies buried at Camajore. It is regarding this that I beseech your Excellency's assistance."
The Ambassador was silent, but his face wore a perplexed expression.
"What you have said suggests, Mr. Eversleigh," remarked Lord Prestonkirk, after a lengthy pause, "something criminal, that is, if you are right in your belief. I am afraid that I am not the proper person exactly to come to. But tell me succinctly what you thought you would ask me to do in the case."
"I wished you to help me with the Italian Government by getting, or by putting me in the way of getting, authority to have the alleged grave of Silwood opened up."
"I see. But supposing I did try to do this for you, it must be obvious to you that I should have to bring forward some very convincing argument. Graves are not opened except for special reasons."
"I know," responded Gilbert. "I was prepared for what you urge, and I must tell you all. But in doing so, I am placing the honour of my father in your hands."
The Ambassador bowed.
"Mr. Eversleigh," he said, somewhat stiffly, "you must please yourself as to what you tell me."
"I beg your Excellency's pardon," cried Gilbert; "but it is not too much to say that it is a matter of life and death to my father and myself. Pardon me, I beg of you."
"Well, I'm ready to listen," said Lord Prestonkirk, more graciously. "Indeed, I am a good deal interested. You have said enough to show me that there is some strange story, as you stated, and if I can be of any service to you, you may count upon me."
Then Gilbert told him all.
The Ambassador listened with great attention, asking a question now and again as Gilbert proceeded with his tale. When it was finished, Lord Prestonkirk remarked that he had never heard a stranger story.
"You believe," he asked, "that the testimony of the secret chamber is absolutely convincing of Silwood's being alive?"
"Yes."
"Was there no one else who could have opened it?"
"No one but the maker, and he is out of the question. Who, beside Silwood, would have any object in opening it?"
"The conclusion is just," acknowledged the Ambassador; "and I believe, with you and your father, that the man is alive; everything undoubtedly points that way. But as I hinted, I think, to you already, it is really a case for the police."
"Later it will in all probability be," said Gilbert; speaking with great earnestness. "But at present my strong desire and hope is that I may be able to trace Silwood, lay hands on him, and get from him, in some way or other, an explanation of certain transactions which he negotiated in the course of his defalcations. If I were to have him arrested when found, it would most likely be impossible to get him to say anything."
"I understand," said the Ambassador, but he looked at Gilbert dubiously.
"I believe he had a confederate," Gilbert went on, as he saw Lord Prestonkirk did not altogether follow him. "Let me explain a little more fully. The accountant who went over his books and papers found that large transactions had taken place between Silwood and a certain James Russell. Inquiries were made about this Russell, and it turned out he was quite a poor man, or, at all events, a man living in a very poor way in Stepney—not in the least the sort of man to engage in large financial operations. I fancy he was a man of straw over whom, perhaps, Silwood may have had some hold, and that Silwood made use of him when a man of straw was needed. We found that this man had recently left Stepney, and I have employed a private detective to hunt him down."
"What did you say his name was?"
"James Russell."
"Ah!" exclaimed Lord Prestonkirk.
"Is it possible your Excellency knows anything of him?"
"Perhaps. Do you happen to know what he was like in appearance?"
"We could get no accurate description of the man. His neighbours said he was seldom at home; they thought he was a workman."
"Well, it may only be a case of coincidence," said the Ambassador; "but the man's connection with Silwood suggests it may be something more than a coincidence. It happened one day last month, August, that there was a person giving the name of James Russell, and described as a workman, a British subject, stabbed in the streets of Genoa. He was wounded in the side, but not severely. Though he refused to prosecute the person who knifed him, and the thing was hushed up, the affair was reported to me, as it might have led to trouble. There was no prosecution, however, and I took very little interest in it, but the man's name comes back to me."
"It is more than a trifle curious," said Gilbert, musingly, "and I shall not forget what you have told me."
This he said aloud, but inwardly he was asking himself if it might not be that, after all, Silwood had communicated to James Russell the method of opening the secret chamber. If that were the case, then the proof on which they built the idea of Silwood's being alive was not so convincing as they had thought. He kept this, however, to himself.
"I should say it was the same man," remarked the Ambassador. "As I tell you, I attached no importance to the matter at the time, since it led to no trouble. Now, it seems very odd that this workman, James Russell, did not try to get compensation for his injury—that looks strange in an ordinary workman. Then there is the fact that Silwood was in the same neighbourhood."
Lord Prestonkirk gazed at Gilbert.
"Your story grows upon me, Mr. Eversleigh," continued the Ambassador. "I am immensely interested, and I'll see what I can do. But once more I must tell you that it is a case for the police."
"I admit that it would be so under ordinary circumstances. But, your Excellency, I must think of my father. I must try to save him. I do not see how I am to do it, I confess; but while there is the slightest chance of getting fuller information than we now possess of what Silwood did, I cannot abandon all hope. You see my position?"
"And sympathize with it; but still—still, it is all very irregular."
"But you will help me?"
"There will be difficulties. You see, I cannot tell the Italian authorities what you have told me. I cannot use the same arguments with them that you have used with me. Still, I am going to try what I can do. There is a detective in all of us, and you have excited the detective in me, and if I can get that grave opened for you, it shall be opened."
Gilbert thanked the Ambassador warmly.
"I shall be in Rome the day after to-morrow," said Lord Prestonkirk, as he shook hands with Gilbert. "Come and see me in the afternoon."
Gilbert returned to Rome, well content with his success so far. He felt that Lord Prestonkirk was genuinely interested, and therefore would do all he possibly could to help him. But, at the same time, what he had heard concerning James Russell filled his mind with disquiet and uncertainty.
The presence of James Russell in Northern Italy at or about the date of Silwood's reported death was in itself startling. True, there were many James Russells in the world, and this particular James Russell who had been wounded in the streets of Genoa, might not be the James Russell whom he regarded as Silwood's confederate or accomplice; but Gilbert had little or no doubt that he was the man he wanted so much to find.
And if this were the case, what then? What was this man doing in Northern Italy, a few miles from Camajore? The answer evidently was that he had been in touch with Silwood.
Again Gilbert was forced to ask himself, Might not Silwood, after all, be dead and buried at Camajore, as the Syndic had said? If that were so, then Silwood must have communicated a knowledge of the secret chamber to Russell before his death, and the secret chamber must have been opened by Russell. On a review of all the circumstances, Gilbert was compelled to acknowledge that this might be the explanation. If it were, it was obvious that he must try harder than ever to lay James Russell by the heels. But he was still determined to have the grave opened. For if Silwood's body were in it, then there was no more to be said on that head, and Cooper Silwood would disappear finally from the story, leaving the mystery of Lincoln's Inn for ever unsolved.
Gilbert wrote to his father, Francis Eversleigh, an account of what he had done and of what he had heard with regard to James Russell. He also communicated with the private detective he was employing to track Russell down.
At the time fixed, Gilbert went to see the Ambassador, but it was only to meet with disappointment.
"I must ask you," said Lord Prestonkirk, "to exercise a little patience, as it may be a day or two before the matter can be settled one way or the other. I saw the Minister for Foreign Affairs, and told him what you wished. Of course I did not tell him what you told me, but I said I believed there were good reasons for my supporting your application for having the grave opened. I dare say he thinks that it has something to do with politics. Be that as it may, we are on excellent terms, and he promised to see about it, but said it was outside his department, and he must speak to the Minister of Justice, as such affairs were under his control."
"I am greatly obliged to you," said Gilbert, earnestly. "Can you give me any idea when you will hear from the Minister again?"
"Very soon, I think. I urged that the matter was most important, and said that I should deem it a personal favour if there was as little delay as possible."
"You are most kind," said Gilbert, "and I don't know how I am to thank you sufficiently."
"Pray do not try, Mr. Eversleigh. You see," continued the Ambassador with a smile, "you have aroused my curiosity, and I must say I am quite keen to know the truth. Come again to-morrow, and perhaps I may have something definite to tell you."
Gilbert called at the Embassy the following day, scarcely expecting to hear the "something definite" of which Lord Prestonkirk had spoken, but to his joy he did.
"I have to tell you," said the Ambassador, cordially, "of a most unexpected piece of good fortune."
"You have succeeded!" cried Gilbert, excitedly.
"Yes; but let me tell you how it came about. It appears that Ucelli, the Syndic of Camajore, has been for a long time in the black books of his superior, the Minister of Justice. This is the piece of good fortune so far as you are concerned. As soon as he heard that Ucelli was suspected of having issued a false death certificate, he instantly said that such a charge must be immediately investigated. So far as I can make out, the Minister was delighted with the opportunity of making things particularly unpleasant for Ucelli, on whom he has had an eye for months. I imagine he is anxious to find a sufficient reason for removing him from his position. You will get the benefit of the Minister's being in this frame of mind. It is a lucky thing for you, and I hope it is a good omen of your success."
"Thank you again and again," said Gilbert. "I am infinitely indebted to your Excellency. What can I do to show how thankful I am?"
"There is one way," replied the Ambassador, kindly. "I wish you to keep me informed of what takes place—I want to know the sequel to this strange story into which you have brought me."
"Oh, I shall be very glad to let you know what happens; I should have done that in any case. Now, your Excellency, what is the next move?"
"The Minister of Justice is determined that the matter shall be probed to the bottom," rejoined Lord Prestonkirk. "He is therefore sending to Camajore no less a person than his Deputy-Minister. I was rather surprised to hear it, for the Deputy-Minister is quite a great man, but it indicates the importance the Minister attaches to the investigation, and you may be sure it will be thorough."
"I am very glad to hear it," said Gilbert, but he had hardly uttered these words when a sort of dread came over him that Silwood's body might be found in the grave. He steadily refused, however, to let his mind dwell on this idea.
"All that remains for me to do now, Mr. Eversleigh," said the Ambassador, "is to give you a line to the Minister of Justice by way of introduction; you had better go and call on him at once."
"Yes, I will do so."
Lord Prestonkirk wrote a short note, and handing it to Gilbert, wished him good-bye and good luck.
"Don't forget to let me know—eh—the sequel," smiled the Ambassador, as he shook hands with Gilbert.
Arrived, within a few minutes of his leaving the Embassy, at the Ministry of Justice, Gilbert was almost immediately ushered into the presence of Signor Fava, the Minister. Finding that Gilbert did not know Italian, Signor Fava conversed with him in English.
"You believe Ucelli to be in a plot," said the Minister, after some discussion, "to screen this Mr. Silwood? Yes; but there is one question I must ask: Why has he tried to screen Mr. Silwood? What was, or is, the consideration?"
"I do not know what was, or is, the connection between the two," replied Gilbert.
"Ucelli must have been offered some strong inducement."
"That is probable, most probable."
"It must be inquired into, it must!"
The Minister touched an electric bell, and his Secretary entered the room.
"Please request Signor Vinci to come to me," the Minister said in Italian to his subordinate, who forthwith withdrew.
"Signor Vinci," the Minister explained to Gilbert, "is my Deputy. I merely desire to introduce you to him. I have already asked him to arrange with you when to go to Camajore. When do you intend to go?"
"I should like to go at once—that is, if it is convenient to Signor Vinci."
"How would to-morrow do?"
"Capitally."
A tall, swarthy man, with a determined-looking face, now came in.
"Mr. Eversleigh," said the Minister, "this is the Deputy-Minister, Signor Vinci. He has already received his instructions, and if you can go to-morrow, so can he. And you will find that he can speak English as well as or better than I."
"Oh no, Excellency," protested the Deputy. "But I am certainly quite ready to go with Mr. Eversleigh to-morrow, if that suits him."
And so it was arranged.
Before setting out next morning, Gilbert received a telegram from his brother Ernest, which made him very sad. It ran—
"Father seriously ill, but immediate danger not apprehended. He is unable to attend office. I opened your last letter to him, but am completely fogged as to its meaning."
"My father seriously ill," thought Gilbert. "How he has suffered! If the worst happens, it will have been Silwood who has killed him! And the office! How long can it go on in my father's absence without something being discovered and a catastrophe precipitated? What a terrible situation! What am I to do?" he asked himself, greatly agitated. But a little reflection convinced him that it was his duty to proceed to Camajore. Still, his brother's message chilled and depressed his spirits.
It was towards the middle of the afternoon when Gilbert and Signor Vinci walked up the single street of Camajore to the residence of Ucelli.
The Syndic saw the Deputy-Minister with surprise, but was far from guessing the real cause of his appearance.
"It is about the effects of that poor Signor Silwood you have come," he said to Signor Vinci in Italian, "along with Signor Eversleigh, is it not?"
"The effects," said Vinci, diplomatically; "yes. Let me see them."
The Syndic produced the money and the various articles which had belonged to Silwood.
"I will give you a receipt for them," said the Deputy, "and take them with me to Rome. They will eventually be given to the person or persons who can show the best claim to them."
"That is quite correct," agreed the Syndic, obsequiously. "Will your Excellency take them now?"
"Yes."
The Deputy-Minister, the look of determination on his face which it habitually wore suddenly becoming sharply accentuated, snapped out the "Yes" so harshly that Ucelli could not help noticing it; there was that in it which made him quake. He glanced at the Deputy to see if he could interpret the swift change in his manner.
"Mr. Eversleigh," said Vinci, crisply, "has proffered a request to the Minister of Justice, and his Excellency will comply with it. This request was that the grave of Mr. Silwood should be opened, and the body removed to England. It is permitted."
"But, Excellency," urged the Syndic, "pray consider the circumstances. Mr. Silwood died of cholera."
"I am aware of it," said the Deputy. "Of course, every precaution science can suggest must be taken. But the command of the Minister admits of no discussion. The grave must be opened, and that to-day; now, or at any rate as soon as possible."
"But, Excellency!" began Ucelli, "I——"
"Say no more! The matter is settled, and I am here to see the grave is opened and the body given over to Mr. Eversleigh."
"A thousand pardons, but, Excellency, I shall be able to get no one to dig. Everybody knows Mr. Silwood died of cholera; and who amongst the villagers will have the courage to face the pestilence?"
"But with proper precautions?"
"Alas! our simple people do not understand precautions; they do understand what death from cholera means by the way of infection."
"I must say I do not comprehend the objection, if the necessary precautions are taken. No, signor, let us to work at once. I will go with you and procure disinfectants, and, thereafter, the grave-diggers, while Mr. Eversleigh rests here. Come!"
The Syndic scanned the Deputy's face, but it was uncompromisingly resolute.
"There is no need for your Excellency to put yourself to the trouble of going with me—I can easily see to all that is required," suggested Ucelli.
"I prefer to go with you," replied the Deputy, with unmistakable decision. Then he added, "My authority may be of some use to you, signor, with the grave-diggers."
And the voice of the Deputy was exceedingly grim, while Ucelli turned a sickly white and found nothing more to say.
"Come!" said the Deputy-Minister peremptorily to Ucelli. "Meanwhile, Mr. Eversleigh, do you remain here till we return. I do not think you will have to wait very long."
"Very well, signor," Gilbert replied, though he would have preferred accompanying the two Italians.
"Come!" cried the Deputy once more to Ucelli.
But the Syndic had now found his tongue. He begged the Deputy to give him a few moments' private conversation in the next room.
"You can say what you have to say here, surely. If you speak in our own language, Mr. Eversleigh will not understand you, so you will be quite safe."
Ucelli urged that Mr. Eversleigh was evidently a highly intelligent man, and must have picked up some knowledge of Italian. Therefore, with all respect to the Deputy-Minister, he ventured to think it possible Mr. Eversleigh might understand. And again he requested a private interview, which finally was granted to him.
The Deputy and the Syndic retired to an adjoining room, and left Gilbert alone with his thoughts.
His thoughts were a strange jumble. In the fore-ground of them were Silwood, James Russell, the Syndic, and the Deputy-Minister, but behind them were his father, Kitty, and Harry Bennet. As he sat there, they all presently seemed to mingle, to become obscure, as in some feverish dream, and then to stand out sharp and clear again.
Perhaps half an hour had passed when there rang through the house the report of a revolver, immediately followed by the sounds of a struggle and the cries and shouts of those engaged in it.
Gilbert sprang to his feet at once, and ran into the next room, from which the noise had come.
There, on the floor, were Ucelli, and above him the Deputy-Minister holding him by the throat. A little distance away lay a revolver; there was the smell of burnt powder in the air, while the furniture of the apartment was in disorder.
"Get something," panted the Deputy, "with which we can bind and secure him, Mr. Eversleigh. Take that table-cover and tear it up—that will do."
Gilbert, who had of course easily grasped the situation, did as he was bid, and in two or three minutes the Syndic was bound hand and foot.
"You are not hurt?" Gilbert inquired of the Deputy. "I heard the sound of a shot."
"No; though it was not Ucelli's fault. He deliberately tried to kill me, but I was too quick for him," said the Deputy, still gasping. "I will tell you all when I have recovered a little."
And breathing heavily, he seated himself on a chair. Gilbert glanced at Ucelli—the man's face was the colour of paper.
"First of all," said Signor Vinci, after an interval, "he tried to bribe me, and failing in that, sought to kill me, though what he hoped to gain by killing me I cannot understand."
"It was the act of a madman."
"You would say he was driven to it by despair? That, perhaps, is the explanation; or it may be he expected to make good his escape. But you see what all this means? It means you are correct in what you have stated about Silwood. Ucelli has not made a confession—that is, a direct confession—but his conduct can bear no other interpretation."
"Yes," assented Gilbert.
"Our next step must be to get the grave opened, and then the case will be complete. But first I will give Ucelli the opportunity of making a full confession."
The conversation between the Deputy-Minister and Gilbert had, up to this point, been in English. Turning to the Syndic, Signor Vinci asked him in his own language if he wished to make a statement.
"What is the use?" asked Ucelli. "I have done for myself—the game is up!"
"That being so, why not make a clean breast of everything?"
"What good would that do me? You will, besides, lay a charge against me of trying to murder you, and I shall be condemned to a life-sentence."
The Deputy thought for a few seconds.
"You are determined to say nothing?" he asked Ucelli.
"I will confess all—but only if you will promise me one thing on your honour," said Ucelli, who had been thinking too.
"I cannot make terms with you."
"In this instance you can."
"To what do you refer?"
"If you will waive the charge against me of trying to kill you, I will disclose everything. After all, I did not kill you; and if you will withhold the charge of attempt to murder, I will open my lips."
"You ask a great deal!" cried Vinci, but he did not refuse the man. As rapidly as he could, he told Gilbert of Ucelli's proposal, and said he was disposed to accept it.
"You may be surprised," he said to Gilbert, who was indeed astonished. "But I will tell you the reason. It is for your sake. If Ucelli makes a full confession, you will learn all you desire to know. Naturally, I have a desire that Ucelli should be punished for his attempt on my life, but I am willing to forego it. By so doing, and in this way obtaining the confession, I acknowledge and repay the obligation you have placed the Ministry of Justice under, for you have put into our hands the means of convicting Ucelli. I am sure this is what the Minister, His Excellency Signor Fava, would have me do."
"It is noble of you," said Gilbert, warmly, "to give up wreaking vengeance on your own account."
The Italian bowed and smiled pleasantly. He now addressed the Syndic, who had been watching the faces of the two others as they conversed, trying to gather from their expression what they were saying.
"I agree to your proposal," he said to Ucelli. "I will make no personal charge against you. You, on your part, will tell us all—absolutely all without equivocation."
"Yes, Excellency, absolutely all," replied the Syndic, a little colour of hope coming into his pallid cheeks. "With your permission, I will speak in French, which Mr. Eversleigh understands, as does your Excellency, I doubt not."
"Let it be so," assented the Deputy. "Speak on!"
"I must go back some years, four or five," said Ucelli; "it was then that Silwood first came to Camajore. He made a stay of several weeks, in the course of which he became intimate with me; he often spent the evenings here, playing chess, a game of which I am fond. His holiday at an end, he went back to England. I did not see him again till last July. I wondered at his coming when cholera was everywhere, but he had an object in view—a scheme, which compelled him to run the risk."
Here the Syndic paused, as if to collect his thoughts.
"You saw him again?" prompted the Deputy.
"Alas, yes! He came to me and tempted me, and I succumbed. For a sum of money I agreed to assist him in his scheme. I knew I was doing a criminal act, but the bribe he offered me quieted all my scruples," Ucelli resumed. "I am a poor man, and I fell!"
"How much did he offer you?" demanded Vinci.
"It was fifty thousand liras," replied Ucelli. "Imagine, Excellency, the temptation to a poor man like myself!"
"Fifty thousand liras!" exclaimed the Deputy. "It is a large sum of money."
"Fifty thousand liras," thought Gilbert; "how much is that in English money?" A mental calculation showed him that it was nearly two thousand pounds. Where, he wondered, had Silwood got such a sum? But Ucelli was speaking.
"Yes, he offered me fifty thousand liras," repeated the Syndic, "and I swallowed the bait—like a fool. But I did not consent all at once. I knew the proceeding he proposed was dangerous in the extreme; but he allayed my fears by declaring it was impossible that it should ever be found out."
The Syndic stopped, overcome with self-pity.
"Well," cried Vinci; "what next?"
"His proposal was that I should have him in my house here, and soon after he was to pretend to be ill of cholera. After a short interval it was to be given out that he had died, while I was to have an imaginary body buried. There were so many deaths here at the time, and consequently so much confusion, that there was no difficulty in carrying out his plan."
"So you were right," said the Deputy to Gilbert.
"I issued a false certificate, and at Silwood's dictation penned the letter sent to Mr. Eversleigh's father," went on the Syndic, now bent on leaving nothing untold. "And it was he who arranged I should have in my possession the letters, money, clothes, and other articles which belonged to him."
"To give colour to the fiction of Silwood's death?" asked the Deputy.
"Precisely. I thought we had foreseen everything, and that discovery was impossible. Alas! but we are blind fools! I hoped, when inquiries came, I should be able to satisfy them easily. The two men who came to make inquiries before Mr. Eversleigh, I had no difficulty with."
It was Gilbert's turn to be amazed.
"What?" he cried. "Two men before me! What do you mean?"
"Ah, you did not know of them?" said the Syndic. "One was a detective of the English police, the other was a journalist, but they went empty away."
"Do you know their names?"
"Am I likely to forget anything or anybody connected with this affair?" asked Ucelli. "No; the name of the detective was Brydges, of Scotland Yard; that of the other was Westgate, a man on the staff of a London journal, theMorning Call."
The names conveyed no meaning to Gilbert, but he was filled with wonder. Thinking it over later, he saw it must have been suspected by others that Silwood was not dead, and he guessed these inquiries had been made in connection with the finding of Thornton's body in Silwood's rooms in Lincoln's Inn. The knowledge that the detective and the journalist had been at Camajore, however, gave him a bad turn; he was afraid to think what might have happened to his father if either of them had stumbled on the truth.
"I know neither of them," said Gilbert to the Syndic.
"They got nothing from me," resumed Ucelli. "I felicitated myself on getting rid of them without trouble. And then you came, Mr. Eversleigh, and I imagined you were as satisfied as they had been. I was a blind fool, a blind fool!"
"You see I was sure Silwood was not dead," remarked Gilbert.
"Do you know where he is?" eagerly inquired the Syndic.
"No, I don't; I hoped you would know."
The Syndic shook his head.
Signor Vinci darted an angry look at him.
"I don't know," persisted Ucelli, seeing the look.
"What occurred after the so-called death of Silwood?" asked the Deputy. "How did he get out of the country? It's plain he did not go as Silwood. If he had plenty of money, as I suppose his giving you fifty thousand liras shows, he would be able to procure disguises, have his own carriage, and journey as he liked."
"Mr. Silwood," replied Ucelli, "is undoubtedly a very rich man, as you suggest. He had an abundance of money."
Gilbert startled the other two men by suddenly rising from his chair with a vehement ejaculation.
"Silwood a rich man?" he cried.
"Beyond question, a very rich man."
Here was a new idea to Gilbert—new with a vengeance! Silwood rich!
Then what about Silwood's alleged losses on the Stock Exchange? he asked himself. Were they fictitious too? Or—what?
"Silwood is rich," continued the Syndic, "but it took very little money to get him out of the country, as it happened. His scheme had taken account of that, and he brought with him a disguise—a disguise as complete as any I ever saw; no one could have recognized him in it. By taking off his wig, putting on a moustache, staining his face and hands, and touching up his cheeks with some paint, he became another man altogether. Then he had clothes with him—such clothes, he told me, as any British workman might wear—and these he wore. The disguise was perfect, and must have been carefully studied. In the night I guided him out of Camajore, and set him on the way to Lucca, which he reached; thence he went on to Genoa, where he took ship for England. But he was delayed at Genoa—there was an accident; how it came about is not known, but he was stabbed in the street."
"Stabbed in the street!" exclaimed Gilbert, on whom the full light was now breaking.
"Yes; he telegraphed for me to go to him, and I went. He said that to prosecute the man who had stabbed him would be fatal, and I arranged there should be no prosecution. Besides, his wound was not serious; he had merely to lie quiet for some days."
"Under what name did Silwood go when he was thus disguised?" asked Gilbert, though he knew what the reply would be.
"James Russell," said the Syndic.
"James Russell! I thought so," said Gilbert, tingling with excitement.
"Is this of importance to you?" the Deputy asked Gilbert.
"Of the utmost importance."
The Deputy smiled, and showed he was well pleased; but he asked no more questions, save one only.
"Is there anything else about which you wish to interrogate Ucelli?" he inquired.
"Yes. I should like to know if he is aware where Silwood,aliasRussell, went to in England?"
"London," said the Syndic; "but he intended going to America eventually."
"That is all, I think, at present," said Gilbert to Signor Vinci.
"Should some other point occur to you later," suggested the Deputy, "you will have an opportunity of putting it to him in Rome, whither we must proceed with all speed."
"I had thought of setting out for London at once," said Gilbert. "The information I have obtained should be acted on without delay. Besides, my father is very ill."
"If you could spare one day! You are a witness to the confession of Ucelli, and I desire you to make a deposition with respect to it before the Minister of Justice himself."
"I certainly owe you as much as that," acquiesced Gilbert.
Thereafter, the Deputy, leaving the bound man in Gilbert's charge, went out of the Syndic's house, to return in a short time with a couple of civil officers, who took Ucelli to prison. The Deputy now informed Gilbert that he had given orders to open up the reputed grave of Silwood, and late that evening they heard a coffin had been taken up and found to be filled with stones.
Next day the Deputy and Gilbert were in Rome, recounting to the Minister of Justice what had taken place. A deposition was drawn up and signed by Gilbert; at the same time, he acknowledged very heartily his great obligations to the Minister and the Deputy.
"Not at all," said the Minister; "you have really conferred a great favour on us. But there is one thing I should like to ask you, if it is not indiscreet."
"And that is, signor?"
"We know why Ucelli entered into this conspiracy with Silwood; it was because of the fifty thousand liras Silwood gave him. But we do not know what induced or compelled Silwood to act as he did. I can see, of course, that in all probability he is a great criminal. For that matter, the conspiracy itself was a crime of the gravest character. If I could arrest this Silwood, he would receive a heavy sentence, you may be sure."
While his superior was speaking, the Deputy had a little smile on his grim face. He had wished to ask Gilbert the question now put to him by the Minister, but, feeling tolerably certain of the truth, had refrained. Still, he listened eagerly to Gilbert's reply.
"Silwood is an absconder and a forger," said Gilbert. "To conceal his crimes, to cover up his tracks, he planned and carried out, with Ucelli's help, this infamous plot. There, that is all."
"And more than enough!" exclaimed the Minister. "You will, as soon as you return to England, proceed to have this man hunted down?"
"It will be the one object of my life until it is accomplished," said Gilbert, emphatically.
On his way back to London, Gilbert pondered what he should next do, and reflected on the occurrences of the last two or three days. The whole scheme of Silwood was now tolerably plain. To begin with, it was evident Silwood had long been leading a double life. There were the wife and child and the house at Stepney on the one hand; and, on the other, the private chambers in Lincoln's Inn. In the latter he was Cooper Silwood, solicitor; in Stepney he was James Russell, workman. And now Gilbert recalled very vividly the story told by the waster, the poor human wreck who spoke like a gentleman, the story of the workman seen issuing in the dead of night from the iron gate of the Stone Buildings' end of Chancery Lane.
"Of course, it was Silwood," argued Gilbert; "it must have been he. The waster said the workman was flurried, went away hurriedly, but returned in half an hour. What does that mean, taken in connection with the fact that next morning Silwood left London? It must have been no light thing which madehimflurried. He intended going to Stepney, started, and then changed his mind. Not likehimeither, to change his mind in that way. Something must have happened."
Then the thought came leaping into his mind which explained everything.
"It must have been because Morris Thornton was lying dead in Silwood's room—that accounts for his agitation and indecision."
After that he asked himself the inevitable question—
"Had Silwood said or done anything to cause such a shock to Thornton as killed him? If so, what?"
But this was a question he could not answer now. The key to the mystery lay with Silwood, and it was possible, even probable, he had made good his escape to America, if it was to America he was gone. America was a wide word, Gilbert mused, but the arm of Justice was long. Yet the search all over America—was that not like looking for a needle in a haystack? And the time which would almost certainly be occupied in the quest—what might not happen in the interim?
With these questions, and such as these, Gilbert was distracted during his journey, and the news which met him on his arrival in London made his heart heavy as lead.
His brother Ernest was at the station when his train steamed in. Gilbert observed he looked pale and sad.
"How is father?" were Gilbert's first words.
"Oh, it is terrible!" exclaimed Ernest.
"Is he worse?"
"Yes, he is worse. He will never be himself again, I fear. He is out of his mind."
"Out of his mind!" cried Gilbert, but in his heart he was saying it was no wonder that his father had become insane, considering all he had borne during the past two months.
"Isn't it dreadful?"
"It may be only temporary," Gilbert suggested.
"The doctors who have seen him do not give us much hope."
"You have had specialists called in?"
"Certainly."
"What form does his trouble take?"
"He is not at all violent; indeed, he is gentleness itself. But his memory seems a blank, and he does not speak except to say one sentence, and it breaks one's heart to hear him say it."
"What does he say?"
"He asks, 'What o'clock is it?' but he does not know what he says. If you tell him the time, he does not comprehend you. That was how mother found his trouble out. One night he had a sort of fit in bed; when it passed he asked, 'What o'clock is it?' and mother told him. He asked again, 'What o'clock is it?' and mother again told him. But he immediately inquired once more, 'What o'clock is it?' and then she began to surmise something was very wrong with him."
"Poor mother!" exclaimed Gilbert. "How is she?"
"She is a brave woman, and is bearing up wonderfully. Well, she waited till morning, and then sent me for a doctor, who, after seeing father, said his brain was affected. I got the best specialists to see him, and they declared his mind had given way, so far as they could judge, from overstrain. It seems that the gentle kind of melancholy madness which afflicts him is incurable. Isn't it sad?"
"Very sad; but doctors are sometimes wrong, and we must hope for the best. Is he at Ivydene?"
"Yes; with a nurse. The doctors thought it was prudent to have a nurse, though, really, he does not require one. He is just like a child. I have not allowed news of his trouble to get about."
The brothers now got into a hansom, and drove to Gilbert's chambers in the Temple. Gilbert could see that Ernest had more to tell him, and half guessed what it was. In the circumstances, too, Gilbert thought Ernest must now be told the true position of the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh.
"When your letter to father came," continued Ernest, "he was already in the condition he now is, so I opened and read it. As I wired you, I was completely bewildered by what you wrote, but tried to puzzle out your meaning. Without the key, however, I could not succeed."
"I'll disclose everything to you, Ernie," said Gilbert.
"And, Gilbert, there is something more. The doctors said father's trouble came from his brain having been overstrained. I believe they are right, and I'll tell you why. I had to make out the position of our firm with respect to the securities of one of our clients, Mr. Archibald Johnstone, and, so far as I can see, we have not got these securities; at any rate, I cannot lay my hands on them anywhere in the office. I went to Archer Martin, the accountant, hoping he might throw some light on the subject; but he said I had better ask you, as you would know. Gilbert, Gilbert, I don't know what to think, but it looks to me as if there's something very serious in this business."
"Yes, Ernie, there is," said Gilbert; "it is as serious as it can be. It is so serious that I can almost feel glad father is not in his right mind."
"Gilbert!"
"It is true. Now let me tell you all I know. The main thing is that Cooper Silwood robbed the firm of a large sum of money. He absconded to Camajore, in Italy, where, in collusion with the Syndic of the place he gave out that he was dead."
Ernest stared at his brother wildly.
"What are you saying?" he cried. "Silwood robbed the firm! absconded to Italy! pretended he was dead!"
"Exactly. But I must begin at the beginning, and tell you the whole story in detail."
When he had heard it all, Ernest was thunderstruck.
"This Silwood must be a devil!" he cried.
"Ay, a devil in cleverness, in ingenuity, in resource, in cunning, and we have to encounter and defeat these qualities in him. He must be found."
"The police?"
"Can we afford to let them know our affairs?"
"No; I suppose not. Would you employ private detectives?"
"Yes; there are very excellent private detective agencies in America, such as Pinkerton's. As I have already told you, I have a man in England following up the trail of Silwood, whom he knows only as James Russell. He may have something to report."
There were several letters lying on Gilbert's table. Owing to the urgency of his talk with Ernest, he had not looked at them; he now did so, hoping that one of them was from the detective, and this hope proved well-founded.
The detective wrote that he had discovered in the list of steerage passengers, kept by one of the Liverpool shipping firms, an entry of "James Russell, wife, and child." From inquiries he had made, he had learned that the child was a cripple; this fact, together with the name, James Russell, and the numbers in the party, agreed with what he had been told of the Russells who had lived in No. 99, Douglas Street, Stepney, so that he had very little doubt that he was on the right trail. He went on to state that the Russells had sailed for New York and had arrived there, as he had ascertained from his correspondent in that city. On landing, Russell had declared he was an immigrant, and having been informed that by American law it was necessary to show he was possessed of a certain stipulated sum of money, had produced it, and was allowed to enter the country. Russell had also declared his intention to go West, mentioning St. Paul in the State of Minnesota as his probable destination. These facts, the detective added, were communicated to him by cable, and he asked for further instructions.
Gilbert handed the letter to Ernest, remarking here was some good news.
"Oh, if we can only catch Silwood soon!" cried Ernest, after perusing the letter.
"To catch Silwood! Yes, that is the business we must press to a conclusion; everything must give way to it!" said Gilbert, energetically. "I shall wire the detective to cable his American correspondent to continue his search."
Then Gilbert was silent for a while, meditating deeply.
"Bennet's trial," he said at length, "is fixed for the middle of November, is it not, Ernie?"
"Yes, November 15th, at York. North Eastern Circuit; Judge, Warrender," replied Ernest, quickly.
"That would give me six weeks," remarked Gilbert, thoughtfully.
"What! Do you intend going to the United States after Silwood? Six weeks is rather a short period."
"Of course it is, but it might be enough. I believe I ought to go, and I have a presentiment I shall succeed. St. Paul is a long way off, though."
Gilbert now consulted an atlas.
"I see," said he, "St. Paul is just about half-way across the American continent. Still, I should be able to reach it in ten days. Say twenty days for going and returning, that leaves twenty and odd days for hunting the man down. Yes, I'll go. Will you arrange about a steamer, while I run across to Surbiton to see father, mother, and Helen?"
"Yes. But are you not counting too much on Silwood's being at St. Paul? You don't really know he is there at all."
"I trust I'm not. My opinion is that Silwood was sure of the working of his scheme; so much so, he took no trouble to cover up his movements. When he said he was going to St. Paul, I imagine he stated the truth. Still, I may be wrong. But I shall soon know."
"You think he was so confident he had obliterated the past, so to speak, that he took no further precautions?"
"That's just my idea. Anyhow, I wish you would inquire about steamers, and secure a berth for me on the first one that goes out. Meanwhile I'll go over to Ivydene."
"All right," said Ernest, and went across to the office in Lincoln's Inn. There he rang up the shipping companies on the telephone, and finally arranged for a passage on theSt. Louis, which was leaving Southampton next morning.
He remembered it was theSt. Louisby which Morris Thornton had returned to England, and it struck him as of good augury that his brother should sail on it in pursuit of Silwood, who had so marred the fortunes of Thornton and them all.
The brothers met again late in the afternoon, and Ernest told Gilbert that he had taken a berth for him in this vessel, and, as it sailed on the morrow about noon, he must at once make preparations for leaving.
"I am very glad that I start so soon," remarked Gilbert. "I feel as if I must be moving and doing something towards getting on Silwood's track. When I saw poor father, I longed with all my soul to slay this man, this villain, who has wrought us such terrible wrong, such irremediable mischief. I know now how a murderer must feel—though to kill such a miscreant as Silwood would not be murder; it would be like killing some poisonous reptile."
"I understand your feelings," said Ernest; "but if you meet him you must not give way to your anger, just though it is. You must not forget that it is the money——"
"You may be sure I won't forget it," interrupted Gilbert. "But it made my blood fairly boil when I saw father, and heard his parrot-like cry of 'What o'clock is it?' He did not know me at all; he does not even know mother. It's frightfully sad for her, poor dear. And we owe this whole trouble to that devil, Silwood! It makes me savage to think of it!"
"Yes, it's hard to bear. Now, is there anything more I can do for you? Any matter to attend to?"
"You might see the detective, and tell him I have gone to New York, where I shall look up his correspondent."
"He had better cable across that you are going—that will prepare the way for you."
"Quite right," agreed Gilbert. "Are you coming to see me off to-morrow morning?"
"From Waterloo? Yes. Did you say anything to mother about going to America?"
"Yes, I told her of it. She was surprised; but I assured her I had no option, but hoped to bring back good news."
"Pray Heaven you may!"
"Has anything further been done in the case of Bennet?" asked Gilbert, after a minute's silence.
"I went to York, and, along with the local solicitor, had a conversation with Bennet, but to no purpose. I never saw such an impracticable man. He seemed all the time in a state of suppressed rage and fury; indeed, they hardly were suppressed. He is more like a caged tiger than a man."
"Does he know about father's condition?"
"No. I have kept it quiet, as I told you before. But I fear we cannot keep it hid very long; it is bound to get out."
"Are you to see Bennet again soon?"
"I must, and he is pretty sure to ask why father has not come instead of me. He asked me that last time, and he was very rude when I told him father was too ill to go to York. I'll have to tell him the truth sooner or later. What do you think?"
"I advise telling him the truth," said Gilbert. "Now, Ernie, there's one thing I wish to ask you, and then I will go on with my packing. I did not like to ask mother. Has she or Helen or any one heard how Miss Thornton is?"
"All that I can tell you," replied Ernest, "is, I was told she had been to see Bennet in prison. Neither mother nor Helen has heard from or of her, I feel quite sure."
Gilbert sighed heavily, but said nothing.
Next day he was on board theSt. Louis, and arrived, a week later, at New York. On the pier he was met by the detective's correspondent, a slim, sharp-faced man, called Matthews, who introduced himself.
"I have news for you, Mr. Eversleigh," said Matthews, after they had exchanged a few words.
"Good news, I hope?" asked Gilbert.
"I reckon it is pretty good," was the reply. "James Russell, the man you want, is living in St. Paul with his wife and child. His house is in a poor quarter of the city, and he don't seem well off. He goes about quite openly, too, as if he had nothing to fear—I mean he don't try and hide himself. I have an agent in St. Paul, and what I've told you is what he wired me; you can depend on it."
"This is indeed good news," said Gilbert, eagerly. "Now I must go on to St. Paul. How long will it take me to get there?"
"Two days, more or less. You travel to Chicago first, and then on to St. Paul. So you will go straight there? Have you any acquaintances or friends in St. Paul?"
"I know no one there."
"Would you like a letter to my agent? He's as bright as a new dollar, and as sharp as a needle."
"Much obliged to you; by all means give me a note to him. And now tell me about the trains, please; I am quite a stranger here."
"D'you wish to leave to-day?"
"I hate to think of losing a minute needlessly," said Gilbert, earnestly. "The matter is of the greatest importance."
"So I guessed," observed Matthews. "I'll do the best I can for you."
And he did. He made everything easy for Gilbert, so that the latter had no difficulty in reaching St. Paul well within two days after his arrival in New York.
As he had calculated, he was in St. Paul ten days after leaving London. Putting up at the Merchant's Hotel, he at once tried to get into communication with Hankey, Matthew's agent, on the telephone, but was disappointed. From a directory he ascertained where Hankey's office was, and learning from the hotel clerk that it was only a few blocks away, and not difficult to find, he set out for it. But he did not reach it without having to ask his way several times from people he met in the streets.
Stopping at the junction of two streets, and uncertain whether to go straight ahead or turn off, Gilbert consulted a policeman standing at the corner. As he spoke, the sound of his voice, or rather his accent, attracted the attention of a man who was passing by. Gilbert had his back to this pedestrian, so that he did not see him.
The pedestrian paused to make certain that he did recognize Gilbert's voice; besides, he recognized Gilbert's figure. Then he walked on slowly, and watched Gilbert's movements from a distance, taking care to keep himself unobserved.
The pedestrian was Cooper Silwood,aliasJames Russell, but it was in the latter character he now appeared.
"What is he doing here?" Silwood asked himself. "Is it a mere accident, or has he discovered something? I must follow him and see where he goes—that may afford an indication of his business here."
And as he shadowed Gilbert from a safe distance, and pondered the reason for his being in St. Paul, his keen intelligence told him more and more insistently that Gilbert's visit to St. Paul was concerned with him. Any doubt he had was dissipated when he saw Gilbert enter the building in which were situated the offices of Hankey's Private Detective Agency.
"How much does he know?" wondered Silwood. "How does he know it? What mistake have I made? what loophole left? I believed myself absolutely safe; but now.... Well, St. Paul is no place any longer for me. I must leave it at once, and go on to Winnipeg, and hide myself somewhere on the prairies of the North-West."
After a very short time, Gilbert reappeared and retraced his steps to the Merchant's Hotel, whither Silwood, still at a safe distance, followed him.
"This is where he is stopping," thought Silwood, as he observed Gilbert pass into the hotel.
Then Silwood walked rapidly away.
Gilbert had met with a second disappointment. On calling at Hankey's Agency, he had been told Hankey himself had that morning been summoned on urgent business to Minneapolis, and would not return till the evening, when he would make a point of coming round to the Merchant's. There was therefore nothing for it but to wait.
Late in the evening Hankey came.
"I am sorry I am so late, but I could not help it!" he exclaimed. "I have come straight to you from Minneapolis, without going to my office first, as I knew you must be anxious to see me. Sorry I could not come sooner, but it was an important case—defaulting bank president and cashier."
Gilbert nodded that he quite understood.
"About James Russell," continued Hankey. "I can put my hand on him at any time; he is kept under constant observation, though he has no idea of it. Yet it hardly seems necessary, for he walks about quite openly in the streets, sometimes alone, sometimes with his wife. They have a lame, crippled child, which they have taken out once or twice."
"Is James Russell anything like this?" asked Gilbert, handing Hankey a photograph of Silwood.
"About the same height, perhaps, but otherwise quite different."
"Yet it is the same man," said Gilbert.
"If so—and I don't doubt your word—what a splendid disguise he has assumed! Case of absconding?" asked Hankey. "Do you wish him arrested?"
"By-and-by; but first I must try to get him to disgorge. He has absconded with a large sum of money."
"Much?"
"Between three and four hundred thousand pounds."
"Nearly two million dollars!" exclaimed Hankey. "Mr. James Russell must be a pretty smart man. Two million! I confess to a certain admiration for a man who can rake in as big a pot as that. Well, I should say it would be very difficult to make a man of that calibre disgorge. How do you intend doing it?"
"I thought you might be able to suggest some plan."
"Well, I reckon that is possible. First thing is to get hold of Russell—and it'll have to be a tight hold, you bet."
"Of course. I admit I don't see what to do; but it seems to me I remember reading of a case the Pinkertons had, in which they had the criminal seized—it was also a case of embezzlement—and kept in a room till he disgorged. They did not put him into prison; they kept him a prisoner in a room in a house of their own."
"I guess something of the kind has happened," remarked Hankey; "but it sounds rather like a bit out of a dime novel. You suggest I should attempt the same game with James Russell, is that it?"
"It is just an idea; I don't say you should act upon it. Is there any plan in your mind?"
"Not at the moment. I'll sleep on it, and come round in the morning."
"Very well. But of course you understand I wish the business concluded as speedily as possible."
"Quite so. I'll be here early in the morning."
Gilbert could not get to sleep easily that night. He was possessed by a feeling of intense excitement; but at last he fell into a restless slumber. It seemed to him that he had just closed his eyes when he was awakened by a loud knocking at his door.
"What is it?" he cried.
"It's Hankey. I must see you at once. Most urgent!"
Gilbert sprang out of bed instantly, and admitted the detective.