The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn Part 41

He at once took the necessary steps by instructing the local solicitor, Deakin, to have Gilbert Eversleigh retained for his defence. He gave a certain plausibility to this, when discussing it with the lawyer, by representing that Gilbert was well known to him, being the son of the head of the London firm of solicitors who transacted his legal business, as well as that of his father before him. When Deakin, in reply, suggested it might be better, in view of the seriousness of the charge, to employ a more eminent barrister, Bennet peremptorily declined to do so, saying his mind was made up.

Deakin, therefore, put himself in communication with Gilbert, and he naturally did so in this particular case through Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh, though they were not his own London agents.

When Francis Eversleigh received his letter, he instantly perceived the malice and hatred that inspired Bennet's proposal; it was a fresh and bitter blow to himself, but he understood its ingenuity of cruelty was specially aimed at his son. As for himself, he was helpless; all he could do was to send for Gilbert, and lay the letter before him.

Gilbert at first was dumbfounded. He could hardly believe that Bennet at such a time could make such a proposition seriously; but he, too, soon perceived what lay behind it.

"It is infamous!" he cried; "or the man must be out of his head. To select me of all people!"

Then he looked at his father, whose weakness and loss of power were more and more evident every day.

"What am I to do?" he asked. "How can I defend this man?"

"He holds me in the hollow of his hand," observed Francis Eversleigh, with a pathetic shake in his voice.

"I know, I know," said Gilbert. "And I suppose I must appear for him.

But the thing is an outrage----"

Gilbert was interrupted by a loud knocking at the door of his father's room--it was no ordinary knocking, but a knocking that spoke of some strong emotion on the part of the person who knocked.

Gilbert strode to the door and opened it. The clerk who had replaced Williamson was standing there, and on his face was a terrified expression.

"I must speak to Mr. Eversleigh immediately," he said hurriedly.

"What is it, Mr. Whittaker?" asked Eversleigh, with a quick agitation.

"I should like, begging Mr. Gilbert's pardon, to see you in private, sir," returned Whittaker, confusedly. "Please come into Mr. Silwood's room; there is no need for Mr. Gilbert to go from here. It is something I must show you personally in Mr. Silwood's room."

"But of what nature is it?"

"That I can scarcely tell, but you may be able to do so."

Francis Eversleigh said no more, but went with Whittaker into Silwood's room. In a few moments he came back alone, looking so shattered that as soon as his son saw him he rushed forward to a.s.sist him. When Gilbert offered him his arm, he took it at once, and Gilbert could feel how his father shook and trembled.

"What has happened?" he asked, after helping his father into a chair.

"Yes, in a minute," stammered the other; "I am horribly upset, and I can stand so little now! In a minute I'll tell you all."

He lay back in his chair with his eyes closed--the mere wreck of the handsome man he once had been.

"A very strange thing has taken place, Gilbert," he said after a while--"a very strange thing indeed!"

Eversleigh stopped, and Gilbert patiently waited till his father spoke again, his heart full of compa.s.sion and sorrow. For the moment, he forgot Bennet, and could think of nothing save the pitiable state of his father.

At length Francis Eversleigh recovered himself sufficiently to stand up.

"Come with me," he said to Gilbert, "to Mr. Silwood's room--that will be the simplest way of making you acquainted with what has happened."

And Gilbert, with mingled feelings of curiosity and alarm, followed his father to the next floor. Halfway down the stairs, Eversleigh halted.

"Whittaker thinks it's a burglary," he whispered mysteriously in Gilbert's ear.

"A burglary! In the office!" said Gilbert, incredulously in a low voice.

"Wait," cautioned Eversleigh. "Wait until you see."

And now they were in Silwood's room, which was still known as Silwood's, though it knew Silwood no more. It was changed, however, but little since he had sat in it and worked his wicked will.

"Close the door, Gilbert," said Eversleigh.

The son obeyed, and then glanced about him. He could see no sign of disturbance, nothing that indicated specially the burglary of which his father had given a suggestion on the stairs. There were in the room, as of yore, the same table, chair, book-cases, deed-boxes; all were arranged in the way that was familiar enough to him. The large j.a.panned box stood by itself in the usual corner. There appeared to be absolutely no hint of anything out of the ordinary. This rapid scrutiny over, Gilbert looked at his father inquiringly.

"You don't notice anything particularly?" asked Eversleigh.

"No; that is, at a superficial glance."

"I wish you to examine the bottom of that box," said Eversleigh, pointing to the large j.a.panned box in the corner. "You and Mr. Archer Martin have recently had constant access to it for the purpose of going over Mr. Silwood's books and papers; you therefore know it well. Now you will see something I am sure you know nothing of. I did not know of it myself--not until Whittaker showed me it."

While Eversleigh was speaking, his son was looking at the foot of the box, from which he saw there protruded a narrow strip of metal.

"What do you make of _that_?" asked the father, huskily.

"I should say it was a sort of secret chamber--you can't exactly call it a drawer," Gilbert replied, after a study of the box. "I knew nothing of it; you are right there. How has it been discovered? What was found in it?" he inquired eagerly, while other questions came thronging into his mind. "When was this discovery made?" he went on.

"It was made this morning," replied Eversleigh. "Whittaker tells me he had occasion to come into the room a few minutes ago to get a paper which he thought he'd find here. He could not lay his hand on it quickly, and had to hunt for it. Quite by accident, as he was searching, he happened to observe a strip of metal at the foot of the box sticking out. Naturally, he went and examined the box, and then saw the secret chamber, which he declares was empty, and I don't doubt it. Now he is positive that when he saw the box yesterday this secret chamber was closed."

"Positive! In what way?"

"It seems that he and one of the other clerks required to move the box yesterday. And he maintains that one or other of them, or both, must have seen the secret chamber if it had been open then. He concludes, of course, that it has been opened since he saw it last. His theory is that it was opened last night by a burglar. I don't know whether he really believes that; it appears preposterous and beyond possibility that any ordinary burglar would be acquainted with this secret chamber."

Gilbert nodded his agreement. He had listened carefully to his father, but at the same time had been trying to understand how the mechanism was worked by which the chamber was opened and closed. It baffled him, however, and he desisted from the attempt.

"What do you make of it?" asked the father.

"Do you believe Whittaker right in thinking the chamber was opened last night?" inquired Gilbert.

"I do."

"But that he was wrong in putting it down to a burglar?"

"Yes. Do burglars break into lawyer's rooms? I don't mean to say that such a thing is impossible, for valuable doc.u.ments have been stolen--you can imagine that."

"Of course. But if the secret chamber was not opened by a burglar, then by whom was it opened?"

"That is the question," said Eversleigh, gazing earnestly at his son.

"Whoever opened the secret chamber knew of its existence," Gilbert went on, thinking the matter out aloud.

"Undoubtedly. He knew of its existence, and he also had the means of opening it."