Soon afterwards the party broke off, and Tempest heard no more of the matter until ten days later, when Baxter called to show him a copy of the birth-certificate of an unnamed female child, born in Dublin on the 18th of August, 1881, and registered as the daughter of John Rellingham, solicitor, and Sarah Jane, formerly Manuel. Tempest laughed as he read the certificate through. “Isn’t it funny,” he said, “that when wewere hunting high and low for the birth of that child, it never entered our heads to look for a daughter of Sir John? She’s registered in the right name, too.”
“I’ve seen Allingham. You were quite right in your guess. He thoroughly examined Sir John about a month before the date of the murder. It wasn’t heart disease. It was cancer of the throat. He told Sir John he could count on at least three months. He strongly advised an operation, and Sir John was very much inclined to agree; in fact it was almost arranged, but it would have been a very risky operation.”
“Then, that’s why he was making his arrangements? Didn’t he say anything to any of you three?”
“Not a word; but then he was always very reserved about himself.”
The barrister hummed a tune, and then, lighting a cigarette, fell to pacing hisroom, as he always did when working out his problems.
“Well, Baxter, Sir John provoked that interview, which we presume was about the secret trust, in order to make the different parts of the key to the cryptogram ready to work, in case he died before Evangeline came of age. Do you remember that letter you found copied in his private letter-book? That was an invitation to the interview. Now, knowing it was going to take place, knowing he had to provide for Evangeline’s future, he goes to see you the night before and asks you to marry the girl. Then he could have settled everything by leaving the money to you. That would have excited no comment, and probably he would have abandoned his secret trust, and no doubt he would have taken a different line at the interview. But you wouldn’t promise unconditionally to marry the girl?”
“He wanted me to marry her in a day or two’s time by special licence. I couldn’t do it. I’d never seen the girl.”
“And Sir John knew he couldn’t wait.”
“I almost wish I’d consented. I wonder if it would have altered matters?”
“That we shall never know.”
The solicitor was grave enough as he added, “Something else has happened.”
“What’s that?”
“What do you guess, Tempest?”
“How do I know, unless you’ve found the lady?”
Baxter pitched him a letter across the table. The barrister picked it up and read it.
“135Chancery Lane, W. C.“Dear Sirs,—We are instructed by our client, Lady Rellingham, relict of Sir John Rellingham, deceased, late the senior partner in your firm, to make formal claim to the £20,000 held in trust for her, under SirJohn’s will, by yourselves, his surviving partners and executors. The terms of the will are before us, and of course these do not specifically allude to Lady Rellingham by that or any other name or description; but we are enclosing a copy, and are prepared to produce, for your inspection, the original of a letter from the late Sir John Rellingham, in his own handwriting, which can leave no doubt of his intentions, and we have no doubt it will be in accord with those directions to yourself to which the will alludes. We should have ventured to express our surprise that the money should have remained in your hands so long, and that during that time no effort should have been made to fulfil the obligations of the trust, were it not that our client informs us that she has been abroad for many years past, that her marriage to Sir John has always been kept a profound secret, and that she was, until quite recently,unaware of Sir John’s death. We are prepared to produce, as and when required, proof of the marriage of Sir John to our client and of her identity. Our client has no desire to encourage any greater publicity than may be necessary in view of the terms of separation which had long existed between herself and her husband; in fact, she would prefer to maintain the silence which has hitherto been observed concerning the marriage. In this we trust you will feel disposed and able to act in unison and conformity with such expression of her wishes; and we should suppose, as he subsequently contracted a bigamous marriage, that for the sake of Sir John Rellingham’s reputation, you would yourselves prefer to do so. But, of course, the large sum at stake precludes any suggestion of less favourable terms being accepted merely to obtain an avoidance of publicity. If you require publicity, our client will notshrink from it.—We are, dear sirs, yours faithfully,Clutch&Holdem.“To Messrs. Rellingham, Baxter, Marston & Moorhouse.”
“135Chancery Lane, W. C.
“Dear Sirs,—We are instructed by our client, Lady Rellingham, relict of Sir John Rellingham, deceased, late the senior partner in your firm, to make formal claim to the £20,000 held in trust for her, under SirJohn’s will, by yourselves, his surviving partners and executors. The terms of the will are before us, and of course these do not specifically allude to Lady Rellingham by that or any other name or description; but we are enclosing a copy, and are prepared to produce, for your inspection, the original of a letter from the late Sir John Rellingham, in his own handwriting, which can leave no doubt of his intentions, and we have no doubt it will be in accord with those directions to yourself to which the will alludes. We should have ventured to express our surprise that the money should have remained in your hands so long, and that during that time no effort should have been made to fulfil the obligations of the trust, were it not that our client informs us that she has been abroad for many years past, that her marriage to Sir John has always been kept a profound secret, and that she was, until quite recently,unaware of Sir John’s death. We are prepared to produce, as and when required, proof of the marriage of Sir John to our client and of her identity. Our client has no desire to encourage any greater publicity than may be necessary in view of the terms of separation which had long existed between herself and her husband; in fact, she would prefer to maintain the silence which has hitherto been observed concerning the marriage. In this we trust you will feel disposed and able to act in unison and conformity with such expression of her wishes; and we should suppose, as he subsequently contracted a bigamous marriage, that for the sake of Sir John Rellingham’s reputation, you would yourselves prefer to do so. But, of course, the large sum at stake precludes any suggestion of less favourable terms being accepted merely to obtain an avoidance of publicity. If you require publicity, our client will notshrink from it.—We are, dear sirs, yours faithfully,Clutch&Holdem.
“To Messrs. Rellingham, Baxter, Marston & Moorhouse.”
The enclosure was as follows:—
“My Dear,—As a tangible evidence of my wish when you claim the money which I am leaving in trust for you to have, if you are so placed that you ever need it after I am gone, I write you this letter. You understand it, so will my partners when you produce it.—Yours most affectionately,John Rellingham.”
“My Dear,—As a tangible evidence of my wish when you claim the money which I am leaving in trust for you to have, if you are so placed that you ever need it after I am gone, I write you this letter. You understand it, so will my partners when you produce it.—Yours most affectionately,John Rellingham.”
“What do you think of it, Tempest?” asked the solicitor.
“It’s precisely what I’ve been expecting.”
“Expecting! Why should you expect it?”
“When I told the judge in open court(I shouldn’t have said it, of course, if I hadn’t known of the duplicate set of papers), but when I told him that the directions for the disposal of the trust were in a sealed packet, and that that packet had been destroyed, and that you three didn’t yourselves know what were the original intentions of Sir John in creating the trust, I felt pretty confident you would have a crop of bogus claims. This is the first. I was inviting them, and I knew it.”
“But this looks genuine. They have the fact of the marriage. That is not public property, but we know it is true.”
“Quite so, Baxter; but at least three other people, the witnesses and the parson, must also have known it originally. And goodness only knows who they have since told, and very likely there are several other people as well,—the relatives of Sir John’s wife.”
“But the letter fits so well.”
“Of course it does; but in view of what the public know, anybody could have concocted that letter. It could have been made to fit. You weren’t likely to have a letter fired at you that wouldn’t fit. Now, there are these points you must bear in mind: (1) The letter may be a forgery. (2) There may be no Lady Rellingham now in existence, and this may be a simple ramp on the part of Clutch & Holdem—you know the sort of reputation that firm has? (3) They may have a client who is claiming to be Lady Rellingham, but who is nothing of the kind. (4) But even if she is Lady Rellingham, and even if the letter is genuine, it doesn’t follow that it refers to the secret trust. Then added to all that, by a decree of the court, under the terms of the will, the money now belongs to you three in fee simple.”
“But we’ve reconstituted the trust.”
“Yes, but who knows except yourselves?That didn’t come out in court. All that came out was, that you three still held the money.”
“Is that a complete answer?”
“I’m not quite sure. I work on the common law side, and I don’t want to dogmatise on a chancery point; but it seems to me at any rate arguable that if the trust is a simple trust for her benefit, claimable by her on Sir John’s death, if she were then alive, then it had already vested in her before the Treasury took action against you, and consequently the trust created by the will was at an end, and the money would be her absolute property before the court decrees it to yourselves. If it were hers I should fancy the decree could hardly divest her of her absolute property. You’ll probably have to open that packet, if the thing is pressed, for it has the semblance of being a genuine claim and one that looksprima facieas if it might be substantiated.”
“Do you recommend us to pay or get out the papers?”
“I wouldn’t get ’em out yet. Sir John trusted you all so implicitly that I wouldn’t get them out until the very last resort. If this is a mere bluff, you may stop it by bluffing back. Go and see the letter, and if it’s in Sir John’s handwriting, then ask for proof of the marriage and proof of identity. When those are forthcoming, if they are, simply point-blank refuse to pay, and see what happens. Say that under the judgment of the court the trust is over and the money vested in yourselves. Here, I’ll draft you the reply.”
Seating himself at his writing-table Tempest wrote as follows:—
“Messrs.Clutch&Holdem.“Dear Sirs,—Without attempting to discuss the merits of the claim, if any, which your client may conceive herself topossess, we would refer you to the terms of the will of Sir John Rellingham, of which you appear to have ample knowledge. We would remind you that the Crown commenced legal proceedings against us, to compel a disclosure of the terms of the trust; that we resisted this; and that the court decreed that under the expressed terms of Sir John’s will the capital funds had vested in us as our absolute property.—Yours faithfully,Rellingham,Baxter,Marston&Moorhouse.”
“Messrs.Clutch&Holdem.
“Dear Sirs,—Without attempting to discuss the merits of the claim, if any, which your client may conceive herself topossess, we would refer you to the terms of the will of Sir John Rellingham, of which you appear to have ample knowledge. We would remind you that the Crown commenced legal proceedings against us, to compel a disclosure of the terms of the trust; that we resisted this; and that the court decreed that under the expressed terms of Sir John’s will the capital funds had vested in us as our absolute property.—Yours faithfully,Rellingham,Baxter,Marston&Moorhouse.”
The solicitor read the draft.
“I don’t like it, Tempest. All three of us are ready and anxious to pay over the money, if this be really Sir John’s intention.”
“Of course I know that; but the odds are so heavy that this is a bogus claim that you are bound to fight it.”
By return of post came the followingreply, which Baxter took round to his chambers for Tempest to see:—
“Dear Sirs,—We are surprised at the tone and contents of your letter. We had not overlooked the facts you allude to, but we are advised by counsel that the trust moneys had already become vested in our client before the Crown took action, and that therefore the decree is of no weight. We shall be glad if you will give the matter further consideration, as we do not wish to resort to litigation unnecessarily.—Yours faithfully,Clutch&Holdem.”
“Dear Sirs,—We are surprised at the tone and contents of your letter. We had not overlooked the facts you allude to, but we are advised by counsel that the trust moneys had already become vested in our client before the Crown took action, and that therefore the decree is of no weight. We shall be glad if you will give the matter further consideration, as we do not wish to resort to litigation unnecessarily.—Yours faithfully,Clutch&Holdem.”
“This seems to be getting interesting,” said Tempest as he read the letter.
“Now write to them, and ask them to produce, for your inspection, the original of the letter written by Sir John and the certificate of the marriage. You should also ask them how they propose to provethe identity of their client with the lady who married Sir John? Let me know what they say.”
The letter was duly written; and Tempest learned afterwards from Baxter that there could be no doubt whatever that the letter had been written by Sir John. “It’s on the firm’s paper. It’s all in his own handwriting. It couldn’t have been forged so perfectly. You see, it isn’t just the question of a signature.”
“Very well, then, I take it that Sir John wrote it. Did you ask to see the envelope.”
“Yes; and I was told it was given personally to Lady Rellingham by Sir John, and was never put into an envelope.”
“Oh, that’s important; as the admission, if it were true, would prove she had seen Sir John since or at the date of the making of the will. Anything else?”
“Yes, it was written in the new copying-ink. I told you about that once before, soit must have been written within a week or so before he died.”
“Had the letter been copied?”
“Yes, press-copied. That was evident.”
“Can you find the copy in Sir John’s private book?”
“No, I’ve looked carefully. It isn’t there.”
“Are there any pages torn out?”
“No, I’ve gone carefully through the pages. There are no numbers missing.”
“Then I’ll tell you where the press-copy is—it’s in the sealed packet. There were probably two copies taken. Baxter, that letter was never written to Lady Rellingham.”
“Why not?”
“It’s written in terms of genuine affection. If Sir John had been on such terms with his wife, he would not have been separated from her so completely that not one of you three had ever heard of her existence.Why, Sir John couldn’t have known she were still alive, or he wouldn’t have married a second time.”
“Then who was it written to?”
“Evangeline Stableford.”
“Then how did it come into Lady Rellingham’s hands?”
“Assuming there is a person posing as Lady Rellingham, you get a motive which may account for the fact that Evangeline was murdered. I’m not sure at present that it was the actual motive. There may, perhaps, have been another, but the letter was stolen at the time of her death. You know I’ve always said she was murdered by that woman who was staying in the hotel in the name of Mrs. Garnett. Mrs. Garnett is the woman who is now posing as Lady Rellingham. She is the woman who was in the court on those two occasions—the woman Yardley tracked to the Hotel Victoria, where she was stayingas Mrs. Seymour. Now, mark you! the letter is not used on Sir John’s death. It is not used until I have declared, in open court, that the directions for disposing of the trust have been destroyed. Clutch & Holdem have probably got as their client that woman Mrs. Garnett, but it doesn’t absolutely follow she is identical with Lady Rellingham. Still, I think she must be. You see, Evangeline was the legitimate daughter of Sir John. I’ve felt fairly certain all along that Mrs. Garnett was Evangeline’s mother.”
“Well, what had we better do? I’m here for professional advice, Tempest.”
“Oh! you must decline to pay. Say you will accept service of a writ, as you prefer to submit the matter to the arbitrament of the court. I’ll keep your name straight before the court. Nobody shall go away with the impression that you were declining to pay simply so that you could stick tothe money. You see, Baxter, they must produce their client in court. They can’t get out of doing it. The only documents they can cite are the will and this letter. As the two stand together they don’t prove their case. They must obviously explain the letter by the evidence of their client. You must have the papers in court, in case the jury seem inclined to believe the woman. We’ll open the packet there, if necessary. This letter from Sir John is obviously the eventuality he created and ample justification for your opening the packet; but, as I am pretty sure it has got into the wrong hands, we won’t meddle with the secret until it becomes unavoidable, and then we’ll cross-examine this Lady Rellingham.”
“Can we keep the papers secret until then? Surely Clutch & Holdem will get discovery?”
“How can they? They can’t get a generalfishing order. They can only get discovery of documents they can specify.”
“But they’ll require an affidavit of documents?”
“I suppose they will. Put into the affidavit the sealed packet you had, and say that it was destroyed. They know that much. They will never dream of there being a duplicate set of papers. Why, this action is only brought because they know the papers have been destroyed. Besides, the set which are now at the safe deposit place have never been reduced into custody yet. I tell you what. Don’t swear an affidavit of documents at all. Don’t wait till you are asked for one, but treat it as all in the day’s march; and, before they ask, send them an informal list of your documents. Send it with a kind of put-off letter, saying you don’t wish to inconvenience them, so send them at once a list of the documents, and say that a thorough search is beingmade amongst the office papers for additional papers, if any; and consequently, with their consent, you will postpone swearing a formal affidavit till the last moment. Then forget all about it. They’ll probably never tumble to what your game is. They’ve very likely got one or two documents themselves which they would rather keep up their sleeve at the moment, so, if you don’t worry them for their affidavit, very likely they won’t bother you. They think they know you have nothing of the least importance.”
In due course the case came on for hearing in one of the chancery courts. Barnett, K. C., and Mr. Hayford were for Lady Rellingham; Tempest was alone, as usual, for the surviving partners in the firm of Rellingham, Baxter, Marston & Moorhouse.
In an easy tone the well-known K. C. opened the case. He dwelt at some lengthon the strange circumstances of the death of Sir John Rellingham, described how he had been found murdered, and mentioned the newspaper agitation which had resulted first in the action taken by the Crown against the partners to compel disclosure of the terms of the trust, which action had resulted in the court decreeing the capital moneys to be the property of the surviving partners in their own right. “We now know,” said Mr. Barnett, “that in defiance of the injunction of the court, certainly an order obtainedex parte, but a valid injunction nevertheless, the partners and executors of Sir John took it upon themselves to destroy the sealed packet containing Sir John’s instructions as to the conduct and disposal of the trust.”
“How do you know that, Mr. Barnett?”
“My lord,” answered the K. C., “my learned friend who is against me in this case made a statement to that effect a fewweeks ago, when acting for one of the partners in a motion in one of the other courts concerning the distribution of the money. I presume he will not contradict his previous statement?”
“Oh, dear no!” said Tempest, without rising from his seat. “If my learned friend’s client hadn’t known the papers had been destroyed, she wouldn’t have dared to bring this action.”
“I can only say,” continued the K. C., “that this is a most improper observation to have made, and I am surprised at my learned friend allowing such a scandalous suggestion to have been put into his mouth.”
“Mr. Barnett,” said the judge with a smile, “we hear many scandalous suggestions of that kind in this court. I should have thought that, with your experience of them, you would hardly allowed your imperturbable equanimity to be ruffled bywhat Mr. Tempest said. He has still to prove it, you know.”
“Quite so, my lord;” and then the K. C. passed to another result of the newspaper agitation which had been “the cause of the arrest and trial of Mr. Baxter, one of the defendants in the present case, for the murder of his partner, the late Sir John Rellingham. I know your lordship will permit me to dissociate myself and my client from any possible accusation of repeating any such suggestion here. Rather, if I may, would I tender to Mr. Baxter congratulations on behalf of our mutual profession at the happy issue of those proceedings, and I would congratulate my learned friend as well, for he was closely concerned in that issue.”
“Mr. Barnett, aren’t you rather on the horns of a dilemma? If you congratulate Mr. Tempest too much, you’ll be making the very suggestion you repudiate.”
A smile went round the court, and, as the ushers called for “silence,” the learned counsel resumed his speech.
“The delay in bringing this action, my lord, or rather the delay in making the claim which has resulted in this action, was not due to the reason suggested in the innuendo of my learned friend, but simply to the fact that Lady Rellingham was absent from England, and was not aware of the death of Sir John. I cannot ignore the unhappy fact, my lord—it is bound to come out in these proceedings; but Sir John and Lady Rellingham separated within a few months of their marriage, and since that separation never again cohabited with each other, and I understand never again met each other. So complete was this separation, that it came as a great surprise to all of us, including those of us who had known the late Sir John Rellingham intimately, to be informed that he had everbeen married before his marriage to the late Lady Rellingham, whom we all knew. My client will go into the box, my lord, and will give the court the short history of her brief married life. I shall put in the certificate of the marriage. None of the witnesses are now alive. It was a marriage in a London city church; and the two witnesses, the verger and a cleaner, were then both old, and they and the clergyman who performed the ceremony are all dead. But I shall call before your lordship the mother of the plaintiff, who will identify her daughter. She was aware of her marriage; and there cannot therefore be any objection, successfully upheld, that my client, Lady Rellingham, is any other person than the lady who went through the ceremony of marriage with Sir John. The real difficulty I have to face, my lord, is that the terms of Sir John’s will are so strange. Not only does he create a secrettrust, but he attached to it this curious clause:
“‘And I further direct that if at any time this trust or the capital moneys of this trust shall be or shall become the subject matter of litigation through the interference or intervention of any party or parties other than my said partners, or the survivor or survivors of them, then and forthwith, and from the commencement of such litigation, the said trust shall cease and determine, and the capital sums of the said trust shall be distributed and applied in the form and manner next above provided.’”
“What was that form and manner, Mr. Barnett?”
“Your lordship has a copy of the will before you. The previous clause directs the distribution of the money amongst the partners for their own benefit in a certain eventually.”
“Oh, yes, I see.”
“Now, the surviving partners of the late Sir John profess ignorance of the original purposes of the trust. They assert that their instructions were sealed in a packet which was only to be opened in a certain eventuality; and they say, also, that those instructions directed them, in the event of litigation, to destroy the parcel unopened.
“The Crown commenced litigation. The parcel was destroyed. But the result of that litigation was that, under the clause in Sir John’s will, which I have just read to your lordship, the court decrees the trust funds to have vested in the three surviving partners in their own right. But if the trustees and executors are really in the entire ignorance they suggest, we are not. Not only was Lady Rellingham aware of the purposes of the trust, but what we believe are the actual terms of the instructions concerning it were within her knowledge. Amongst certain papers of SirJohn’s, which were in her possession, is a paper containing these words:—
“‘Upon trust, to be settled tightly for her exclusive use and benefit, without power of alienation or anticipation in the names of suitable trustees, the new trust deed to be executed immediately after my death, and to contain a clause cancelling the trust created by my will.’
“That paper was given to Lady Rellingham at the same time as the letter which I shall presently read to your lordship and which she was to show to the trustees and executors. Now, my lord, if, as I submit, we have a right to assume those were either the actual words or an epitome of the instructions Sir John left to his executors, then I submit to your lordship that it was their duty to at once transfer this money, and themselves create this trust in favour of Lady Rellingham. I submit it had vestedin her as the beneficiary, and, as a new trust, was not subject to the clause by which litigation transferred it to the surviving partners. Alternatively, my lord, I shall submit, that if the old trust still existed, and the money therefore under the terms of the will was still subject to the forfeiture clause, and was accordingly forfeited, then the trustees were guilty of negligence in not having constituted the new trust, and through their negligence Lady Rellingham has found the provision made for her forfeited through causes over which she had no control, and for which negligence she is entitled to damages. Her statement of claim, my lord, as you will see, alleges the further negligence that the forfeiture was consequent upon the refusal of the partners to disclose the terms of the trust, and that they were not justified in that refusal, but, on the other hand, deliberately provokedthe litigation which resulted in the forfeiture. Before calling my client, my lord, I propose to proceed chronologically by first proving the marriage.”
Formal proof of the marriage and the certificate was given, and then Mr. Barnett called “Esther Manuel.”
An old woman, dressed plainly but inexpensively, came forward, and was sworn. She gave her name and her residence in Nassau Street, Dublin, and said that she was the widow of Pedro Manuel.
“Who was Pedro Manuel?”
“He was a hairdresser.”
“Where did he carry on business?”
“In Dublin.”
“When did he die?”
“Eight years after my marriage, in 1865.”
“How many children had you?”
“Two daughters.”
“When were they born?”
“Sarah Jane was born in 1858 and Dorothy in 1860.”
“What has became of Dorothy?”
“She died about twenty years ago. I don’t know the exact date.”
“Where did she die?”
“In London.”
“Now, your elder daughter. Do you see her in court?”
“Yes—that lady;” and the old woman pointed to the plaintiff, who was seated at the solicitor’s table.
“Will you raise your veil, please, Lady Rellingham?” said the judge. “Now,” he added, turning to the witness, “is that your daughter Sarah Jane?”
“Yes. I’m positive. I should know her anywhere.”
As Lady Rellingham raised her veil for a moment, Tempest saw her face and started in amazement. An older woman certainly, but nevertheless the likeness toEvangeline Stableford was startling in the extreme. There could be no doubt of the relationship of those two.
Tempest rose to cross-examine. “When did your daughters leave home?”
“Oh, many a year ago! I couldn’t tell you the date.”
“How old were they?”
“I think Sarah Jane was seventeen or eighteen, and Dorothy was two years younger.”
“Why did they leave home? Was there any quarrel?”
“Oh, no, sir. They left home to go into service. I found it very hard to support them, and they had good situations offered to them.”
“What were the situations?”
“They went to some dressmaker’s shop here in London. I forget the name.”
“When was the next time you saw them?”
“I never saw Dorothy again. She died.”
“Did they write to you?”
“Sometimes; but not often. I’m not much of a scholar myself, and I couldn’t write back, so I suppose they got tired of writing.”
“When did you next see your daughter Sarah Jane?”
The witness hesitated, but the question was pressed, and finally came the answer, “Yesterday.”
“Then, from the day they left home until yesterday, an interval of between twenty and thirty years, you have never set eyes on your daughter?”
“No, sir.”
“And yet you are positive she is your daughter?”
“Quite sure, sir.”
“Did you know of her marriage?”
“Yes.”
“When did you hear of it?”
“I can’t say exactly. She wrote and told me she had married a rich man, and since then she’s always allowed me ten shillings a week, and with the little bit of money I had that made me very comfortable.”
“Did you know whom she married?”
“No. I didn’t know the name.”
“How did you address your letters to her when you wrote?”
“I used to write them to Miss Manuel. She told me to.”
“What address did you send them to?”
“I always sent them to her at an address she gave me.” The old lady mentioned the address, but it told Tempest nothing. He guessed it to be an accommodation address—a surmise which subsequently proved correct.
“How did you get to know of your daughter Dorothy’s death?”
“Sarah Jane—her ladyship—wrote and told me.”
“Did she tell you where she died?”
“I don’t remember, sir. I don’t think so.”
“Did she tell you what was the cause of her death?”
“No, sir. I wrote and asked her to send me word about it, but I didn’t hear again after that from Sarah Jane for a long time, and then she wrote and said she’d been living in France.”
“Did you ever write and ask your daughter Sarah Jane who it was she had married?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Did she tell you?”
“No. She said she had to keep her marriage quite secret, and it was safest to say nothing.”
“Did either of your daughters tell you when they left their situation?”
“No, sir.”
“Then, for all you knew to the contrary, Sarah Jane might still have been there all these years?”
“Well, sir, she said she had married a rich man, so naturally I didn’t suppose she would have to go on working for her living.”
“Did she ever send you word whether she had a child?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know now whether or not she has ever had one?”
“No, sir.”
Lady Rellingham was the next witness called, and, in answer to her counsel, said she left home about the year 1875. It might be 1876; she could not be certain. She had left home with her sister, and they both obtained situations in the same milliner’s shop. There she had met Mr. John Rellingham, as he then was, and she hadmarried him after a very short engagement. Their marriage had been kept secret by her wish at first. She did not wish to give up her employment. They never had a joint home. She and her sister shared rooms, and she used to go away with her husband for week ends.
“Then I think you separated from your husband. Can you tell the court the reason?”
“We couldn’t get on. We were always quarrelling, and we both felt it was hopeless to pretend to keep up the farce of appearing fond of each other. So we just agreed to part. That was easy. Because no one knew of our marriage except my sister.”
“Did Sir John make any provision for you?”
“He allowed me an income for a few years, and then it ceased.”
“Did you ever see Sir John again?”
“Not until shortly before his death, when he gave me the letter and paper I produce.”
“Do you identify this letter (and it was handed to the witness) as in the handwriting of Sir John?”
“Yes, it is in his writing.”
“You are perfectly familiar with his writing? Now, this other paper—is that in his handwriting?”
“No. He had it ready written out, and he gave it me with the letter.”
“Why were they given to you?”
“So that I could claim the money which he told me he was putting into trust for me under his will.”
“What was the reason for making it a secret trust and not leaving it to you by name?”
“Sir John still wished our marriage kept secret. You see, he had been married again himself.”
“Do you swear on your oath that Sir John intended that trust for your benefit?”
“He told me so. He told me I should only have to show that letter to his partners, that they would understand it; and he gave me the paper, and told me that those were the instructions he had left for his partners.”
“I really don’t know how much of this is evidence,” interrupted the judge.
Tempest rose. “I make no objection to it, my lord. I am not here to assist my clients to retain money which should rightly go elsewhere; and under the curious, I might say the utterly weird, circumstances of this present case, I think it very desirable we should have all possible information we can get.”
“If you raise no objection, Mr. Tempest, I am very much inclined to agree with you;” and the examination was continued.
“When did you hear of Sir John’s death?”
“Only a few weeks ago. I have been travelling in Egypt.”
“And that is the reason, I understand, why you have only recently instructed your solicitors to claim the money?”
“That is so;” and the examination then closed, and Tempest began to cross-examine.
“For how long, Lady Rellingham, have you used that title?”
“Only since I commenced this claim.”
“That, I take it, is since the death of Sir John, and since he has been unable to raise objection to your doing so. Is not that the case?”
“Yes.”
“What name were you known by previously?”
“My maiden name was Sarah Jane Manuel.”
“What name were you known by previously, Lady Rellingham, if you please?”
“I decline to answer.”
“Will you answer my question, please?”
“I decline to.”
“Was it the name of another man?”
“Yes.”
“Was that why Sir John Rellingham ceased to pay your allowance?”
“I don’t know.”
The question was pressed.
“I don’t think it was.”
“What was the reason?”
“My husband thought I was dead.”
Tempest’s face plainly showed his surprise.
“How did you know he thought you were dead?”
“He heard of the death of my sister, and must have thought it was my death, for he wrote to my sister to condole with her, and offering to pay the expenses of the funeral.It suited me to let him think so, so I answered it in my sister’s name, and I never undeceived him.”
“If he thought you were dead, then why did he wish to provide for you by making this trust?”
“He found out his mistake.”
“How?”
“We met, and he recognised me.”
“When did you meet?”
“It was just before his death, when he gave me that letter and the paper.”
“How was it you came to meet?”
“He wrote that he had some business he wanted to discuss with me.”
“But he thought you were dead?”
“Yes; but he thought my sister—his sister-in-law—was alive.”
Tempest hunted through his papers, and then, turning to the witness, asked, “Was this the letter?” and Tempest read out:
“‘Sir John Rellingham has received andcarefully considered the letter. In the exercise of his discretion, he must decline the request. He cannot but think the interview was essential.’”
“It was something like that.”
“Was that the letter, please? Yes or no?”
“I believe it was.”
“Did the interview take place after you received that letter?”
“Yes.”
“Then we can date it. That letter was written within a week of Sir John’s death.”
“Do you propose to prove that, Mr. Tempest?” asked the judge.
“Certainly, my lord—now that it has become material.—Now, do I understand that, until that interview took place, Sir John Rellingham had no idea that you, his wife, were still alive?”
“That is so.”
“Lady Rellingham, Sir John died in theweek preceding Easter in 1902. If he were not aware you were alive until the interview took place in 1902, how do you account for the fact that his will was made in 1900—the trust drawn up in 1900—a trust which you say was for your benefit, whereas he did not know in 1900, when he drew his will, that you were alive?”
There was no answer, and, time after time, the question was repeated. Lady Rellingham got whiter and whiter, till her face was a pale ashy grey; but she made not even a suggestion in reply. At last came her whispered reply, “I cannot say.”
“Mr. Tempest, of course it’s quite possible—mind, I do not say it is so—but it is possible that the trust may have been created for the benefit of someone else, and Sir John may have changed his mind, when he became aware that his wife was still alive.”
Tempest listened in growing irritation as the judge helped the witness out of the pitfall he had dug so carefully for her, and curtly answered:
“That is a point I shall have to discuss at some length a little later;” and then, turning to the witness, he asked: “Did Sir John write this letter and this paper in your presence?”
“Yes, and handed them to me.”
“Where did this interview take place?”
“At his office.”
“How is it, then, that neither of Sir John’s partners nor any of the clerks in the office are aware of such an interview having taken place?”
“It was after office hours, and all the clerks had gone.”
“Who admitted you?”
“Sir John himself. He had made the appointment, and expected us.”
“Did Sir John leave you in his roomand go into any other room whilst you were there?”
“No.”
“Then, Lady Rellingham, how do you account for this letter having been press-copied?”
“I really cannot tell. Perhaps he did it in his own room, and I never noticed him copying it. I don’t know how letters are copied.”
“But I do know, Lady Rellingham. It needs a press to press-copy a letter, and the press is in the clerks’ office.”
“Perhaps we were in the clerks’ office?”
“Will you describe the room, Lady Rellingham?”
“It was a room on the first floor, not looking into the square, and it had a large table and some chairs.”
“Then, Lady Rellingham, if I can prove the clerks’ offices are all on the ground floor, and that none of them havechairs or tables, but all have desks and stools, you must be mistaken?”
“Are you going to prove that, Mr. Tempest?”
“Oh certainly, my lord; if you wish it. Now, Lady Rellingham, a moment ago you said Sir John admitted you. Your exact words were, ‘He had made the appointment and expected us.’ Who was the other person?”
“That was a mistake. I went alone.”
“Did you expect to meet anyone else there?”
“No.”
“Did anyone else go there?”
“No.”
“Was no one else present at the interview between yourself and Sir John?”
“No one at all.”
“What time was it when the interview took place?”
“About a quarter to seven.”
“And none of the clerks were present?”
“No.”
“Now, Lady Rellingham, if I can prove, as I am going to do presently—now just listen, please—if I can prove that that letter was written less than a week before Sir John died, and that during that week there was only one evening on which all of the clerks had gone before seven o’clock, and that on that evening Sir John sent the last one away at half-past six, that must have been the evening the interview took place?”
“Yes, I suppose so.”
“And if that evening was the evening Sir John was murdered, you must have been the last person who saw Sir John alive? Now, Lady Rellingham, I will ask you again, was no one else present at the interview between Sir John and yourself?”
“There was someone else.”
“I thought so. Who was that other person?”
“I decline to say.”
“But don’t you see, Lady Rellingham, that if that other person can corroborate what you say, you have won your case. If, as you admit, there was another person, and you don’t call that person as a witness, the natural presumption is that you are afraid to do so because that person would tell a different story. Now, who was that other person?”
“The other person is dead.”
“Well, we’ll leave that point for the present. Have you any children, Lady Rellingham?”
“No.”
Tempest handed the witness a birth-certificate. “Isn’t that the certificate of the birth of a daughter of Sir John and yourself?”
“Yes.”
“Then, why did you say you had no children?”
“You asked me if I have any children. That child was adopted by somebody very soon after it was born. I didn’t want anyone to know I had had a child.”
“Who adopted it?”
“I don’t know. I told the monthly nurse to make arrangements, and it was adopted on condition that I was not to know where it went, and I was never to claim it.”
“Was your husband with you when the child was born?”
“No.”
“Did he know you had had a child?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know what became of it?”
“I think he found out afterwards.”
“Did he tell you what name it was known by, or what had become of it when you had this interview with him?”
“Yes.”
“What was the name?”
“I decline to say.”
“I insist on your answering;” and as the witness remained silent, the judge intervened. “You know, Lady Rellingham, I can commit you to prison if you do not answer; and if you do not tell the truth, you will be guilty of perjury.”
“Lady Rellingham, I put it to you that your daughter went by the name of Evangeline Stableford. Is not that a fact?” And reluctantly came the admission that it was.
“Now, then, I put it to you that the other person who was present was Evangeline Stableford. Isn’t that so?”
And that was admitted.
“Now, didn’t Sir John tell you he was suffering from cancer of the throat, and was going to be operated on?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t he remind you that Evangeline had not yet come of age?”
“Yes.”
“Didn’t he say he hoped Lady Stableford would provide for her adopted daughter, Evangeline, in her will?”
“Yes.”
“But there was always the chance that Lady Stableford might change her mind, and that Evangeline had no legal claim on her?”
“He might have done.”
“Didn’t he?”
“Yes, I think he did.”
“Now, you say he thought you were Evangeline’s aunt and not her mother?”
“Yes.”
“Then, was it that he wished to leave Evangeline in your charge in case he died under the operation, and before Evangeline came of age, that he had sent for you?”
“I suppose so.”
“And your story is that when he saw you he recognised you as his wife?”
“Yes; that is what happened.”
“And that, whatever may have been his previous intentions, he thereupon changed his mind and wrote the letter, so that you should benefit by the trust.”
“Yes. I promised him to leave the money to Evangeline at my death, that is, if Lady Stableford did not provide for her.”
“Lady Rellingham, isn’t the real fact that Sir John had known you were alive for some five or six years—before he ever made the will which you say was to benefit you?”
“He may, perhaps, have done. He may have seen me, and recognised me, without my knowledge.”
“Lady Rellingham,” said Tempest in his quiet voice as he leaned forward, “isn’tit the fact that Sir John had found out you were alive and living under another man’s name, and he sent for you and sent for Evangeline, and he told you, in her presence, that he knew and had known, but that he was going to respect your secret, if it could be protected, so long as you lived; and that if he died before Evangeline came of age, and that if then Lady Stableford had not provided for her, Evangeline was to be able to claim the money he put in trust; but that, as that would probably result in your secret being disclosed, he gave you the opportunity of providing for Evangeline during your lifetime, so that your secret need not be revealed whilst you were alive? Isn’t that the real fact?”
“No, it is not.”
“Isn’t it the fact that that letter was written for Evangeline and given to her in your presence?”
“No, certainly not.”
“Lady Rellingham, I know your secret. Isn’t what I put to you the fact?”
“Certainly not.”
“Did Evangeline know?”
“No. I stopped him telling her. She only knew I was her mother.”
“I’ve tried to keep your secret. I’m afraid it will have to come out now;” and then, turning to Baxter, he said, “Let me have that parcel,” and a sealed packet was handed to him.
“Lady Rellingham,” said Tempest, “did Sir John tell you that the instructions to his partners as to the execution of the trust were in a sealed packet, and that they would not be aware of the contents until the time came for them to act?”
“He did.”
“You were aware that that parcel was destroyed unopened?”
“I saw it in the papers that you said so in court.”
“Did Sir John tell you he had created a duplicate, in case that parcel was destroyed?”
“No, he did not.”
“It’s news to you, then, that there was such a duplicate?”
“Quite news. I don’t believe it.”
“You won’t believe me, then, if I tell you this is the duplicate?”
“No, I shall not. You’re only trying to frighten me.”
“Are you willing to let this case depend upon the result of opening this duplicate?”
“Certainly not. How do I know it’s genuine?”
“I shall require you to prove that, Mr. Tempest,” said the judge.
“As your lordship pleases,” replied the barrister.
“My lord,” said Mr. Barnett, “I shall strongly object to the production of thatdocument. It is not mentioned in their affidavit of documents.”
“I haven’t the remotest idea what is in the parcel,” said Tempest. “I imagine the documents it contains will be in the handwriting of Sir John, and will practically prove themselves. But I can assure my learned friend that I was only intending to use the contents in cross-examination. He seems much more afraid of them than I am.”
As Tempest took a pen-knife from his pocket and cut the sealed string, there was a dramatic pause, and the court hushed into breathless silence. One could hear the wax breaking as the string was cut; and Lady Rellingham, gripping the rail of the witness-box, gasped towards her solicitor, “I withdraw! I withdraw!”
“Then, my lord, I ask you to order the arrest of the witness.”
“On what ground, Mr. Tempest?”
“Perjury, my lord, at least.”
“But you haven’t proved that her evidence is incorrect?”
“I take it, my lord, that her withdrawal is tantamount to such an admission.”
Mr. Clutch hurriedly passed to the witness-box and urged his client not to withdraw.
Tempest’s voice was clear above the racket and bustle in the court. “I object to anyone tampering with the witness.”