The Mystery of Lincoln's Inn Part 48

"How much did he offer you?" demanded Vinci.

"It was fifty thousand liras," replied Ucelli. "Imagine, Excellency, the temptation to a poor man like myself!"

"Fifty thousand liras!" exclaimed the Deputy. "It is a large sum of money."

"Fifty thousand liras," thought Gilbert; "how much is that in English money?" A mental calculation showed him that it was nearly two thousand pounds. Where, he wondered, had Silwood got such a sum? But Ucelli was speaking.

"Yes, he offered me fifty thousand liras," repeated the Syndic, "and I swallowed the bait--like a fool. But I did not consent all at once. I knew the proceeding he proposed was dangerous in the extreme; but he allayed my fears by declaring it was impossible that it should ever be found out."

The Syndic stopped, overcome with self-pity.

"Well," cried Vinci; "what next?"

"His proposal was that I should have him in my house here, and soon after he was to pretend to be ill of cholera. After a short interval it was to be given out that he had died, while I was to have an imaginary body buried. There were so many deaths here at the time, and consequently so much confusion, that there was no difficulty in carrying out his plan."

"So you were right," said the Deputy to Gilbert.

"I issued a false certificate, and at Silwood's dictation penned the letter sent to Mr. Eversleigh's father," went on the Syndic, now bent on leaving nothing untold. "And it was he who arranged I should have in my possession the letters, money, clothes, and other articles which belonged to him."

"To give colour to the fiction of Silwood's death?" asked the Deputy.

"Precisely. I thought we had foreseen everything, and that discovery was impossible. Alas! but we are blind fools! I hoped, when inquiries came, I should be able to satisfy them easily. The two men who came to make inquiries before Mr. Eversleigh, I had no difficulty with."

It was Gilbert's turn to be amazed.

"What?" he cried. "Two men before me! What do you mean?"

"Ah, you did not know of them?" said the Syndic. "One was a detective of the English police, the other was a journalist, but they went empty away."

"Do you know their names?"

"Am I likely to forget anything or anybody connected with this affair?"

asked Ucelli. "No; the name of the detective was Brydges, of Scotland Yard; that of the other was Westgate, a man on the staff of a London journal, the _Morning Call_."

The names conveyed no meaning to Gilbert, but he was filled with wonder.

Thinking it over later, he saw it must have been suspected by others that Silwood was not dead, and he guessed these inquiries had been made in connection with the finding of Thornton's body in Silwood's rooms in Lincoln's Inn. The knowledge that the detective and the journalist had been at Camajore, however, gave him a bad turn; he was afraid to think what might have happened to his father if either of them had stumbled on the truth.

"I know neither of them," said Gilbert to the Syndic.

"They got nothing from me," resumed Ucelli. "I felicitated myself on getting rid of them without trouble. And then you came, Mr. Eversleigh, and I imagined you were as satisfied as they had been. I was a blind fool, a blind fool!"

"You see I was sure Silwood was not dead," remarked Gilbert.

"Do you know where he is?" eagerly inquired the Syndic.

"No, I don't; I hoped you would know."

The Syndic shook his head.

Signor Vinci darted an angry look at him.

"I don't know," persisted Ucelli, seeing the look.

"What occurred after the so-called death of Silwood?" asked the Deputy.

"How did he get out of the country? It's plain he did not go as Silwood.

If he had plenty of money, as I suppose his giving you fifty thousand liras shows, he would be able to procure disguises, have his own carriage, and journey as he liked."

"Mr. Silwood," replied Ucelli, "is undoubtedly a very rich man, as you suggest. He had an abundance of money."

Gilbert startled the other two men by suddenly rising from his chair with a vehement e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n.

"Silwood a rich man?" he cried.

"Beyond question, a very rich man."

Here was a new idea to Gilbert--new with a vengeance! Silwood rich!

Then what about Silwood's alleged losses on the Stock Exchange? he asked himself. Were they fict.i.tious too? Or--what?

"Silwood is rich," continued the Syndic, "but it took very little money to get him out of the country, as it happened. His scheme had taken account of that, and he brought with him a disguise--a disguise as complete as any I ever saw; no one could have recognized him in it. By taking off his wig, putting on a moustache, staining his face and hands, and touching up his cheeks with some paint, he became another man altogether. Then he had clothes with him--such clothes, he told me, as any British workman might wear--and these he wore. The disguise was perfect, and must have been carefully studied. In the night I guided him out of Camajore, and set him on the way to Lucca, which he reached; thence he went on to Genoa, where he took s.h.i.+p for England. But he was delayed at Genoa--there was an accident; how it came about is not known, but he was stabbed in the street."

"Stabbed in the street!" exclaimed Gilbert, on whom the full light was now breaking.

"Yes; he telegraphed for me to go to him, and I went. He said that to prosecute the man who had stabbed him would be fatal, and I arranged there should be no prosecution. Besides, his wound was not serious; he had merely to lie quiet for some days."

"Under what name did Silwood go when he was thus disguised?" asked Gilbert, though he knew what the reply would be.

"James Russell," said the Syndic.

CHAPTER x.x.xIV

"James Russell! I thought so," said Gilbert, tingling with excitement.

"Is this of importance to you?" the Deputy asked Gilbert.

"Of the utmost importance."

The Deputy smiled, and showed he was well pleased; but he asked no more questions, save one only.

"Is there anything else about which you wish to interrogate Ucelli?" he inquired.

"Yes. I should like to know if he is aware where Silwood, _alias_ Russell, went to in England?"

"London," said the Syndic; "but he intended going to America eventually."