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THERE'S THE LADY TOO!
There was nothing very remarkable about Colonel Wilmot Edge. He was a slightly built, trim man, but his trimness was not distinctively military. He might have been anything, save that just now the tan on his face witnessed to an out-of-door life. His manner was cold, his method of speech leisurely and methodical. At first sight Harry saw nothing in him to modify the belief in which he had grown up--that the Edges were an unattractive race, unable to appreciate Tristrams, much less worthy to mate with them. He gave the Colonel a chair rather grudgingly, and turned to old Mr Neeld for an explanation of the visit.
Neeld had fussed himself into a seat already, and had drawn some sheets of paper covered with type-writing from his pocket. He spread them out, smoothed them down, cleared his throat, and answered Harry's look by a glance at Edge. Mr Neeld was in a fidget, a fidget of importance and expectancy.
"You will know," said Edge gravely, "that no ordinary matter has led me to call on you, Mr Tristram. However little we may be responsible for the past, we have to recognize it. I should not, under ordinary circ.u.mstances, have sought your acquaintance. You must consider this interview purely as one of a business kind. I have just returned to England. For two months I have been out of the way of receiving letters or newspapers. I went to the Imperium Club to-night--I arrived only this morning--and dined in Neeld's company. As it chanced, we spoke of you, and I learnt what has happened since I left England. I have lost no time in calling on you."
Neeld was listening and fidgeting with his sheets of paper. The Colonel's preamble excited little interest in Harry. The reaction of his struggle was on him; he was courteously but not keenly attentive.
"It is not agreeable to me to speak of my brother to you, Mr Tristram.
Doubtless we should differ if we discussed his character and conduct. It is not necessary."
"Is Sir Randolph Edge concerned in what you have to say to me?" asked Harry.
"Yes, I am sorry to say he is. Another person is concerned also."
"One moment. You are, of course, aware that I no longer represent my family? Legally I'm not even a member of it. It is possible that you ought to address yourself to Lady Tristram--my cousin--or to her lawyers."
"I have to speak to you. Is the name of the Comtesse d'Albreville known to you, Mr Tristram?"
"Yes, I've heard my mother speak of meeting her in Paris."
"That would be when Lady Tristram was residing with my brother?"
"My mother was never in Paris after that, I believe. It would be at that time, Colonel Edge."
"You are aware that later--after he parted from Lady Tristram--my brother went to Russia, where he had business interests?"
"I have very good reason to know that." Harry smiled at Mr Neeld, who had apparently got all he could out of his papers, and was sitting quiet and upright in an eager attention.
"What I am about to say is known, I believe, to myself alone--and to Neeld here, to whom I told it to-night. While my brother was in Russia, he was joined by the Comtesse. She paid him a visit--secretly, I need hardly add. She pa.s.sed under the name of Madame Valfier, and she resided in the house adjoining Randolph's. Lady Tristram was not, of course, aware of the relations between her and my brother. I will come now to the time of my brother's death. When he fell ill, he had just completed the sale of one of his Russian properties. Lady Tristram did not, I dare say, speak of the Comtesse's character to you?"
"I never remember hearing my mother speak of anybody's character," said Harry with a smile.
"She was a brilliant woman--she died, by the way, two or three years ago--but extravagant and fond of money. She prevailed on my brother to promise her the price of this property as a gift. The sum was considerable--about seven thousand pounds."
Harry nodded. Here seemed to be some possible light on the reasons for the interview.
"This money was to be paid--in gold--on a certain day. I speak now from information imparted to me subsequently by the Comtesse herself. It was given under a promise of secrecy which I have kept hitherto, but now find myself compelled in honesty to break."
"There can be no question of what is your duty, Edge," Mr Neeld put in.
"I think none. My brother during his illness discussed the matter with the Comtesse. The money was payable in Petersburg. He could not hope to be well enough to go there. At her suggestion he signed a paper authorizing payment to be made to her or to an agent appointed by her.
The money being destined for her ultimately, this naturally seemed the best arrangement. She could go and receive the money, or send for it--as a fact she went in person when the time came--and all would be settled."
"Quite so. And the transaction would not appear on the face of Sir Randolph's accounts or bank-book," Harry suggested.
"It's possible that weight was given to that consideration too, but it is not very material. The Comtesse, then, was in possession of this authority. My brother's illness took a turn for the worse. To be brief, he died before the day came on which the money was to be paid."
"And she presented the authority all the same?" asked Harry. "And got the money, did she?"
"That is precisely the course she adopted," a.s.sented Colonel Edge.
Harry took a walk up and down the room and returned to the hearthrug.
"I'm very sensible of your kindness in coming here to-day," he said, "and your conduct is that of a man of honor. But at this point I'll stop you, please. I'm aware that _prima facie_ the law would p.r.o.nounce me to be Sir Randolph's son. That has always been disclaimed on our side and could easily be disproved on yours. I have nothing to do with Sir Randolph Edge or his property."
The Colonel listened unmoved.
"In any case you would have nothing to do with my brother's property,"
he remarked. "He left a will by which I was const.i.tuted sole legatee."
"Then if she robbed anybody she robbed you?"
"Certainly; and three years later she came and told me so."
"Then how in the world does it concern me?" cried Harry impatiently.
"You put your finger on the spot, Mr Tristram, but you took it off again. You said she presented the authority all the same."
"Yes. The authority would be revoked by his death. At least I suppose there's no question of that? Did she get at them before they heard of the death?"
"This money was payable on the 22nd June--the 10th as it's reckoned in Russia--but we needn't trouble about that. As you and Neeld are both aware, on the 18th my brother fell into a collapse which was mistaken for death."
"Yes, the 18th," murmured Neeld, referring to the paper before him, and reading Josiah Cholderton's account of what Madame de Kries had told him at Heidelberg.
"From that attack he rallied temporarily, but not until his death had been reported."
"I am not the man to forget that circ.u.mstance," said Harry.
"The report of his death was, of course, contradicted immediately. The doctor attending him saw to that."
"Naturally; and I suppose the Comtesse would see to it too."
"And the only importance that the occurrence of the 18th has for us at present is that, according to the Comtesse's story, it suggested to the doctor the course which she, on his prompting as she declared and certainly with his connivance, afterward adopted. My brother, having rallied from his first collapse, kept up the fight a little while longer. It was, however, plain to the doctor that he could live but a very short time. The Comtesse knew this. My brother was not in a condition to transact business and was incapable of securing to her any benefit by testamentary disposition even if he had wished to do so. Her only chance was the money for the property. This she saw her way to securing with the doctor's help, even although my brother should die before it fell due and the authority she held should thereby lose its legal validity."
"You mean that they determined to carry out a fraud if necessary?"
"Precisely. I must remind you that my brother knew nothing of this. He was altogether past understanding anything about it. I may be very brief now, but I am still anxious that you should fully understand. All that I'm saying to you is beyond question and can be proved at any time by taking evidence on the spot; it is easily available."
Harry had sat down by now and was listening intently.
"On the morning of the 22nd," Edge pursued in his level methodical way, "the Comtesse went to the station escorted by Dr Migratz; that was his name--rather that is his name; he is still alive. On the way they met the British Vice-Consul, and in reply to inquiries from him said that my brother had had another attack but had rallied again. Dr Migratz expressed the opinion that he would live another two days, while Madame Valfier (the Vice-Consul knew her by that name) was sanguine enough to talk of the possibility of a recovery. She impressed him very much by her courage and hopefulness; she was, I may remark, a handsome and attractive woman. Leaving the Vice-Consul, they reached the station and there parted. Migratz returned immediately to my brother's house and remained there, the case being declared to be so critical as to require unremitting attention. Madame Valfier--the Comtesse--took the train to Petersburg, reached it that evening, presented the authority early next morning, and was back about midnight--that being the 23rd. The next day my brother's death was announced, certified by Migratz, and duly registered as the law of the place required." He drew a paper from his pocket. "This is a copy of the entry, showing death on the 24th."
"That doc.u.ment is very familiar to me, Colonel Edge. It gives both styles, doesn't it?"
"Yes, both styles, but--Well, you see for yourself. My story is done.
With Migratz's connivance--a woman who acted as nurse was squared too, and her evidence is available--the actual date of death was concealed, and the Comtesse d'Albreville had time to present her authority and receive the money. After paying her accomplices their price, she left Russia with the bulk of it immediately."