The Town Traveller Part 32

"I suppose I shall ask for Mr. Clover?"

"They wouldn't know who you meant. That isn't his real name."

A cry escaped her; she turned pale.

"Not his real name? I thought it--I was afraid of that! Who am I, then?

What--what have I a right to call myself?"

With a glance at the door of the sitting-room, nervousness bringing the sweat to his forehead, Gammon told what he knew, all except the burning of the will, and the fact of Greenacre's mission to Ireland. The listener was at first sight utterly bewildered, looked incredulous, and only when certain details had been repeated and emphasized began to grasp the reality of what she heard.

"Oh!" she exclaimed at length in profound agitation, "that explains so many things! I never thought of this, but I've often wondered. I understand now."

She paused, struggling to control herself. Then, not without dignity, in the tone and with the face that are natural at such moments only to a woman here and there; the n.o.bler of her s.e.x, she added:

"I can't go to the hospital. Someone else must tell me about him. I can't go."

"I shall have time to call on my way," said Gammon, "and I could send you a wire."

"Will you? I can't go."

She sobbed, but quietly, hiding her face in her hands. Gammon, more distressed by her emotion than he had ever felt at the sight of a woman weeping, did his clumsy best to solace her. He would call at the hospital straight away and telegraph the news as soon as possible. And anything else he could learn about Lord Polperro should be made known to her without delay. He wrote on a piece of paper the address in Sloane Street, and that of the house in Stanhope Gardens. On the point of departure something occurred to him that it was wise to say.

"I shouldn't do anything just yet." He looked at her impressively. "In your position I should just wait a little. I'm sure it would be better, and I may be able to give you a reason before long."

She nodded.

"I shall do nothing--nothing."

"That's best, I a.s.sure you. You're not angry with me? You'll shake hands?"

She gave him her hand; withdrew it quickly; turned to hide her face again. And Gammon hastened Citywards.

A telegram came from him in little more than an hour. It reported that the patient was still unconscious and dangerously ill.

When, later in the afternoon, Gammon went to the hospital to make another inquiry he learnt that Lord Polperro was dead.

Turning away, debating whether to send the widow a. telegram or to break the news by word of mouth, he saw a cab drive up, out of which jumped Mr. Greenacre. Their eyes met, but they exchanged no sign of recognition. Scarcely, however, had Gammon walked a dozen yards when a quick step sounded behind him, and he was addressed in tones of the most conciliatory politeness.

"Gammon, may I beg one word? I owe you an apology. My behaviour last night was quite unjustifiable. I can only explain it by the fact that I had undergone a severe trial to the nerves. I was not myself. May I hope, my dear Gammon, to be forgiven? I apologize most humbly--believe me."

"Oh, that's all right," replied the other with a grin; "I hope I didn't hurt you?"

"My dear fellow, it would have served me right. But no--just a few trifling bruises. By the by, our friend has departed."

"Dead--yes!"

"Do you know, Gammon, I think we ought to have a quiet talk. You and I have common interests in this matter. There will be an inquest, you know, and the fact is I think"--he spoke very confidentially--"it might be as well for us both if we came to some sort of mutual understanding.

As things have turned out we are victims of circ.u.mstances. Might I suggest with all deference that we should dine together very quietly? I know a very suitable place. It's early for dinner, but, to tell the truth, I have had no particular appet.i.te, to-day; in fact, have hardly touched food."

Gammon accepted this invitation and decided to send a telegram to the china shop.

Their conference--tentative on both sides for the first half hour--led eventually to a frank disclosure of all that was in their minds with regard to Lord Polperro. Each possessed of knowledge that made him formidable to the other, should their att.i.tude be one of mutual hostility, they agreed, in Greenacre's phrase, to "pool" all information and then see how they stood. Herein Gammon had the advantage; he learnt much more than it was in his power to communicate, for, whilst Greenacre had been playing a deliberate game, the man of commerce had become possessed of secrets only by chance, which his friend naturally could not believe.

Greenacre had been to Ireland on the track of a woman whom Lord Polperro had lost sight of for some five-and-twenty years; he had obtained satisfactory evidence that this woman was dead--a matter of some moment, seeing that, if still alive, she would have been his lords.h.i.+p's wife. The date of her death was seven years and a few months ago.

"By jorrocks!" cried the listener at this point, greatly disturbed.

"Then Mrs. Clover--as we call her--wasn't really his wife at all?"

"I regret to say that she was not," replied Greenacre with proper solemnity. "I grieve to tell you that our deceased friend committed bigamy. Our deceased friend was a most peculiar man; I can't say that I approve of his life, viewed as a whole."

Then came Gammon's disclosure about the burning of the will and about Lord Polperro's intention to see his solicitor.

Greenacre smiled grimly.

"If I may make a personal remark, Gammon," he said in measured tones, "I will confess that I should never have allowed the destruction of that doc.u.ment. You, my friend, if I am not mistaken, had a still greater interest in preventing it. That will provided very handsomely for Mrs. Clover, for Miss Clover, and--I may say liberally--for a young lady named Miss Sparkes."

He smiled more grimly than ever.

Gammon drew in his breath and refrained from speech.

"Of course, I understand his motives," pursued Greenacre. "They were prudent, no doubt, and well meaning. He did not foresee that there would be no opportunity for that interview with his solicitor."

"Look here, Greenacre, I Want to know how you found out first of all that he'd married twice."

"Very simply; I took it for granted that he had. I am a student, as you know, of genealogy, also of human nature in general. In my first interview with Lord Polperro I let fall a word or two which obviously alarmed him. That was quite enough. In his singular state of mind he jumped to the conclusion that--as they say on the stage--I knew everything; and, of course, I very soon did; as much, that is to say, as he himself knew. He married at two-and-twenty a young girl whom he met in Ireland; married her in his right name--Trefoyle (not Clover)--and they travelled together for a year or two. Then somehow they parted, and never saw or heard of each other again. No, there was no child. I had little difficulty in persuading his lords.h.i.+p to let me investigate this matter for him; I did it with complete success. The girl belonged to a peasant family, I may tell you; she led, on the whole, a decidedly adventurous life, and died suddenly on a s.h.i.+p in which she was returning to the old country from America. I gather that she never knew her husband's aristocratic connexion. Of course, I was discretion itself whilst making these inquiries, and I feel pretty sure that no claim will ever be made from that quarter--the peasant family--on our friend's estate."

"Why, then," exclaimed Gammon, "what is to prevent Mrs. Clover from coming forward? She knows nothing; she needn't ever hear a word."

"Gammon, you surprise me. Clearly you haven't the legal mind. How could you reconcile yourself to stand by whilst the law of your country was so grossly defeated?"

"Humbug! Don't use such long words, old chap. But perhaps Polperro's family knew of the marriage?"

"They did not, I can a.s.sure you. Our friend was the kind of man who doesn't like the cla.s.s in which he was born; he preferred a humbler station. He was never on very good terms with his relatives."

"Well, then," Gammon persisted, "who is to let them know that Mrs.

Clover wasn't the real wife? Hanged if I see why she shouldn't come forward!"

"My friend," replied Greenacre, smiling gently, "it will be my privilege to make known all the facts of this case to the Honourable Miss Trefoyle, his lords.h.i.+p's sister and nearest surviving relative."

"What?"

"I regard it as a simple duty. I cannot even argue the subject, Gammon; if _you_ have no conscience, _I_ have."

Gammon sat pondering until light began to break upon him. The other, meanwhile, watched his countenance.

"I see," he said at length bluntly. "You think it'll do you more good to take that side. I see."

"Gammon, my leanings are aristocratic. They always were. It puts me at a disadvantage sometimes in our democratic society. But I disregard that. You may call it prejudice. I, for my part, prefer to call it principle. I take my stand always on the side of birth and position.