The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn Part 56

"Yes; but he has made others suffer. Think of father!"

"Yes; and yourself, indirectly, and Kitty."

"Any news of her?" asked Gilbert, wistfully.

"No."

"Have you been again to York to see Bennet?"

"No; but Deakin, the local solicitor, has arranged for me to see him on Tuesday next."

Then there fell a silence between the brothers. Ernest was thinking over what he had heard from Gilbert about Silwood and the recovery of the money and the bonds; while Gilbert dwelt sadly on the image of Kitty, wondering how she was bearing up and pa.s.sing the time while Bennet lay in prison. Then his mind shifted to the consideration of what still lay before Ernest and himself.

"There will be much to think of, much to do," he said to Ernest. "I mean with respect to winding up the affairs of the firm."

"Is it necessary, do you think, to wind up its affairs?"

"We must do something. What I thought was, that a letter to the clients should be drawn up, stating that, as Silwood is dead and father incapacitated by ill-health, the firm must be wound up; but that you--a son of Francis Eversleigh, who had been for some time a.s.sociated with him in the business--proposed to begin a new business under the style of Eversleigh and Eversleigh, and would be glad to have the same confidence extended to you by the clients of the old firm as they had shown to Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh. Something of that kind--that's what I thought."

"Yes. There is one point," said Ernest, thoughtfully. "The properties Silwood sold, such as house property and land property; what is to be done about them?"

"I don't think we need try to replace them. In all such cases, I would go to the particular clients themselves, tell them the truth, and offer full compensation. You must remember Silwood's h.o.a.rd amounts to far more than the firm owes, and you are perfectly ent.i.tled to make every necessary use of it."

When the brothers arrived in London, their first care was to take the half-million bag to their bank, where they deposited the money and left the bonds in the care of the manager. Then they went to Lincoln's Inn, and proceeded to draft the letter Gilbert had suggested. The following day these letters were despatched. One of them had a singular result; it was that which was addressed to Harry Bennet.

The brothers had discussed what was to be done in his case, and had decided that, though Bennet had given a discharge to the firm, yet he must be paid the value of the property, Beauclerk Mansions, which Silwood had sold. So a special note had been placed at the foot of the letter sent him, apprizing him of their intention.

At the same time a letter was sent to Deakin, the York solicitor, informing him that as the firm of Eversleigh, Silwood and Eversleigh was being wound up, owing to the continued ill health of the sole remaining partner, the firm could no longer act with him for Bennet, and further, that Mr. Gilbert Eversleigh had returned to them his brief in this case.

The first result of this was that Deakin came rushing up to London. He had seen Bennet, who, wild with rage and defeated spite, had ordered him to go and see what was the meaning of this change of front on the part of the Eversleighs.

"Mr. Bennet," said Deakin, "is the most reckless man I ever saw. He behaves like a lunatic, and says the most mad things. He tells me--of course, I know it is absurd--that he can send Mr. Francis Eversleigh to prison for embezzlement, and he demands again that Mr. Gilbert Eversleigh appear for him at his trial."

It was Ernest Eversleigh to whom Deakin spoke. Ernest, acting on the advice of Gilbert, told Deakin in confidence as much of the facts as was necessary, winding up by saying--

"My father, no doubt, might still be proceeded against, but he is out of his mind. Besides, I offer the fullest compensation. Taking these two things together, is there need to say more?"

"I should say not," replied Deakin, without a moment's hesitation.

And back Deakin went to York, and acquainted Bennet with what he had learned. For a time Bennet refused to believe what Deakin had told him about the recovery of the money from Silwood, but when at last he was convinced of it, he fell into a great surly silence, from which he could not be drawn. When Deakin spoke of obtaining the services of an eminent counsel for his defence, Bennet made no reply. Instead of giving way to anger, as he usually did when he heard anything that displeased him, he sat gloomy and sullen. After trying for ten minutes to get a word out of him, and failing, Deakin left the prison.

Next morning he received a hurried summons to the Governor of the Prison's room, and there he heard that Bennet, in spite of the fact that he was constantly watched night and day, had somehow managed to open a vein in his arm and had bled to death in the night.

"The warder, who was guarding him at the time," said the Governor, "saw him lying on his bed fast asleep, as he supposed; when it was daylight blood was noticed on the floor, and then it was found that Bennet was dead."

"But how did he get an instrument with which to open a vein in his arm?"

asked Deakin, aghast.

"The surgeon says," answered the Governor, "that the vein was bitten open. The act was done with great determination. You saw him yesterday, I believe; was there anything in what you told him to account for the deed?"

"I brought him news that greatly disappointed him, but nothing to account for this. Poor devil!"

But Deakin did not know all.

When Bennet's death became public, there were many who said he had cheated the gallows, and few mourned for the lost life and the career gone fatally wrong.

Even Kitty Thornton, in her kind heart, could not sincerely say she was sorry he was dead. Indeed, in the years that came after, she never thought of Harry Bennet without growing quiet and pensive far beyond her wont, as she reflected how, in one way and another, she had been saved from him.

Gilbert Eversleigh and Kitty Thornton did not come together at once again--the shadow of Bennet lay between them, but in the course of time they did, as was inevitable.

"When thou doest well unto thyself," said the satirist, "all men will speak well of thee."

And Gilbert Eversleigh, the rising barrister, backed by the beauty and wealth of his wife, is spoken well of by all the world.

The other side of life's double shield is to be seen at Ivydene, where there may be beheld, nursed and tended by a wife's unchanging love, and a daughter's unalterable affection, a white-haired, bent figure, from whose loose lips there comes the question, over and over again, "What o'clock is it? What o'clock is it?"

THE END