CHAPTER XLII
THE THIRD AND THE FOURTH CONFEDERATE
The voice of the third confederate followed. It was a voice from thetomb. Sir Harry Malyns, the poor old butterfly who had lived for nighupon eighty years in the world of fashion; who had spent hispatrimony, and had, in the end, been reduced to the miserable work ofa decoy, as you have heard, was at last summoned to render an accountof his life. What an account to render! So many thousand nights at thegaming-table; so many thousand at suppers and after; so manydebauches; so many days of idle talk; the whole of his long lifedevoted to the pursuit of pleasure, as the people of fashion callpleasure. However, the old man was at last seized with a mortalillness; at the approach of death some of the scales fell from hiseyes; his former ideas of honour came back to him. He repented of hisdegradation as the secret servant of Lord Fylingdale; he repented ofhis share in the deception which led to the promise, if not theperformance, of marriage between his patron and Miss Molly.
And he dictated to some one, who attended him in his last moments, abrief note which was accepted in the spirit of forgiveness, which hedesired.
The communication was addressed to Captain Crowle. "The followingwords," it was written, "were in substance dictated by the late SirHarry Malyns in his last illness, namely, the day before he becameunconscious, in which condition he lingered for forty-eight hours,when he breathed his last."
There was neither signature, nor was the place of the deceasedgentleman's last illness indicated. The following were the wordsdictated:
"I, Sir Harry Malyns, baronet, being now, I believe, at the point ofdeath, am greatly troubled in my conscience over the part I played inthe deception of Captain Crowle, of King's Lynn; his ward, Miss Molly;and the people of the place, as to the character and principles of theEarl of Fylingdale. I very soon discovered his design in going to thetown, and his hopes of securing the fortune of the lady called theheiress of Lynn. My own part, to deceive his friends in the wayindicated, I performed with zeal, being but the creature and servantof his lordship, with no hope of help from any other quarter, should Ilose his patronage. It was a most dishonourable part to play, unworthyof my name and of my family. I desire to convey to the young lady myhumble request for her forgiveness, and my hope that a way may befound for her out of the toils spread for her by myself and others,his creatures and servants.
"There is, I learn, a denial on the lady's part as to her marriage atall. Of this I know nothing. But I am assured in my own mind that ifthis denial involves any act of treachery, perfidy, fraud, orconspiracy on the part of his lordship, on that account alone, andwithout considering the many virtues, the candour, truth, andinnocence of the lady, I should accept her denial. But in thiscrowning act of treachery, I rejoice that I have had neither part norlot."
There was no signature, but there seemed no reason to entertain adoubt as to the genuine character of the communication. The old man onhis deathbed returned to a late recognition of the laws of honour anda late repentance.
"He was a poor creature," said the vicar. "He was entirely made up ofstays and wig and powder. He ought to have been taken about thecountry in order to show the world the true meaning of a fribble and abeau. It is, however, something to his credit that in the end heremembered the old tradition, and saw himself as he was. Pray Heaventhat his repentance was thorough!"
"Let us at least forgive him," said Molly. "He seemed a harmless oldgentleman. One would never have thought him capable of acting sodishonourable a part. But he repented. We must forgive him."
"Meantime, we are no nearer the mysterious woman who personated you,Molly; nor do we understand why she did it; nor do we understand howit was done."
A week later came another letter. This time it was from the Rev.Benjamin Purdon, A.M. It was a truly impudent letter, worthy of theman and his character.
"TO CAPTAIN CROWLE.
"SIR,--I have hesitated for some time whether to address you on the subject of your ward's pretended marriage with my late patron, Lord Fylingdale. I say pretended because I am in a position to expose the whole deception. I can place you in possession of the whole of the facts. They are simple; they cannot be denied or disproved. Your ward was not in the church at all; she was not married; her place was taken by a woman who personated her, appearing in your ward's dress, namely, a pink silk cloak, the hood thrown over her head. I, who performed the ceremony, was deceived. That is to say, I was told the name of the bride and there was nothing to awaken any suspicions. At this point, and as a proof that part of this story is true, I would ask your ward to write her name in full, and I would then ask you to compare that writing with the signature in the registers."
"Are we stupid?" cried the vicar. "Have we been struck with judicialstupidity? Let us instantly, without any delay, proceed to this test.Molly, my dear, get paper, pen and ink.... So--now sit at the table.Write your name as you usually write it when you sign a letter."
"But I never write any letters," said Molly.
"She writes the names on the pots of pickles and the preserved fruit,"said the captain. "Come, Molly, you can sign your name."
The girl blushed and seized the pen. It was not with the pen of aready writer that she wrote, in a clumsy hand--a hand unaccustomed tosuch writing--her name "Molly Miller."
"Is this your best writing, Molly?"
"Indeed, sir, I am ashamed that it is no better. At school I learnedbetter, but I have so little occasion to write."
"So long as it is the signature you would use in the church, it willserve," said the vicar. "Come, let us to St. Nicholas at once, andsend for the clerk. We will examine these registers, and we will readthe rest of the letter afterwards."
The chest was unlocked; the registers were taken out; the books wereopened at the right page. The vicar laid Molly's writing beside thatof the register.
"You see," said the vicar, "the very signature proclaims the cheat. Wehave been, of a verity, seized with judicial blindness for our sins."
The differences were not such as could be explained away, for thesignature in the book was round and full and flowing--a bold signaturefor a woman--every letter well formed and of equal size, and in astraight line; the work of one who wrote many letters, and pridedherself, apparently, on the clearness and beauty of her hand. Molly's,on the other hand, showed letters awkwardly formed, not in line, ofunequal height, and the evident work of one unaccustomed to writing.
"What doubt have we now?" asked the vicar. "My friends, I seedaylight. But let us return to complete my reverend brother's letter."
The letter thus continued:
"You have now, I take it, satisfied yourself that your ward could not possibly have penned that signature. You have no doubt, if you had any before, that your ward's denial was the truth.
"At the same time you do not appear to have considered the matter worth fighting. It was not, for assuredly a court of justice, even with the handwriting as evidence, would have decided against you. So far, you were well advised.
"You, therefore, withdrew opposition, and suffered the husband to take over, what he claimed, control of the estate.
"From what I am informed, he is pursuing a course of mad riot, in which he alone sits cold and composed, as is his wont, for the contemplation of wickedness in action is more to his taste than becoming an actor himself; he is also playing and losing heavily. Therefore, I have every reason to believe that he will before long get through the estate of his so-called wife. I hope he will, because he will then have nothing left at all, and the last state of that man will be as miserable as he deserves."
"This man, too, has his revenge in sight," said the vicar.
"I come now to the main point. I do not suppose that more than the third, or so, of your ward's fortune has yet been wasted. I will enable you to save the rest.
"For a certain consideration, I need not write down its nature, my noble patron pr
omised to pay me L12,000 on his marriage with this heiress. It is a large sum of money, but the service I rendered was worth more."
"It was his own confederacy, I suppose."
"For the honour of the British aristocracy I regret to inform you that Lord Fylingdale repudiates the contract. He says that I may take any steps I please, but he refuses to pay. That the consideration--but I need not go on; in a word, he will give me nothing.
"Under these circumstances I will expose the whole affair, and put an end, at least, to his further depredations. If, therefore, you take over this obligation upon yourself I am prepared to draw up an account of the whole business; the personation of your ward, the reasons and the manner of it, and an explanation of the very remarkable coincidence--so remarkable as to seem impossible--of the substitution of one woman for another at a moment's notice. I further promise that this information will at once turn the tables; that you can refuse to let his lordship interfere further with your ward's estate; and that you can take steps to declare the so-called marriage null and void. Nothing shall be left for explanation; all shall be quite simple and straightforward; and I can put evidence in your hands which you little suspect.
"Further, I promise and engage to ask for nothing until I have proved all that has to be proved and have established the fact that your ward was not married by me.
"You can send me twenty-five guineas in advance. It can go to London to the coach office of the 'Swan with Four Necks,' where I will call for it.
"I am, naturally, after so great a disappointment, much in want of money, therefore I shall be obliged if you will make the advance fifty instead of twenty-five guineas.
"(Signed) BENJAMIN PURDON,
"Clerk in Holy Orders."
We looked at each other in silence.
"To procure thy freedom, Molly," said the vicar, taking her hand,"there is nothing which we would not do--that honest men dare to do.But let us not be drawn away from our duty. We will have no part norlot nor any traffic with rogues. This man is an arch rogue. Thisletter is the letter of a villain, who is, one would say--the Lordforgive me for saying so of a fellow sinner!--beyond the power ofrepentance and beyond the hope of forgiveness. Patience, Molly, Ithink that we shall soon be rewarded--even with the loss of all thyworldly goods."
CHAPTER XLIII
THE FIFTH AND LAST CONFEDERATE
And then came the final revelation--the confession of the fifth andlast confederate--which cleared up the whole mystery and explainedthat which, with one consent, we had all declared to be whollyunintelligible.
The counsel learned in the law gave his written opinion that,considering that the marriage ceremony was fixed for 6 A.M.,the bridegroom had no knowledge of the bride's intention not topresent herself; that he left his lodgings a few minutes before six;that a few minutes after six, one Pentecrosse, well known to the lady,witnessed the marriage ceremony and believed the bride to be the ladyin question, dressed as she was accustomed to dress, although he didnot see her face; that the parish clerk also recognised the lady; thatthe clergyman was ready to swear that the bride was the lady; and thatthe register showed her signature. There could be no change whateverof success in disputing or denying the marriage.
The vicar, perceiving the weight of evidence, and adding to it theapparent impossibility of procuring at a moment's notice thepersonation of the bride, reluctantly advised submission, while beingfirmly persuaded that Molly and her mother had spoken the truth, andthat there was devilry somewhere.
We submitted, with what results you have seen.
It is, I believe, a rule that some playwriters, where they have a plotwith a mystery or a secret in it, to keep the audience in ignorance,and so to heighten their interest, until the revelation in the lastact clears up the mystery and relieves the spectators of theirsuspense. Others, again, allow the audience to understand at theoutset that their heroine or hero is the victim of villainy, but donot explain the full nature of that villainy until the end, when theplots of the wicked are brought to light.
I have told this tale without the art of the playwright. I have shownyou exactly how things happened, though we only discovered the truthlong afterwards. For instance, you know already what was the fullexplanation of the marriage which I witnessed; you know the surprisewith which the bridegroom discovered the truth, and you know besidesthe impudent use which, by the advice of the Reverend Benjamin Purdon,was made of that discovery. Also you know the reason of thepersonation and the person by whose indiscreet chattering it becamepossible.
I have now to tell you how we ourselves discovered the truth.
After the arrival of the letters already described, nothing new waslearned for some months. That is to say, Colonel Lanyon wrote no more;the Reverend Mr. Purdon, though he continued to write letters whichthreatened concealment and offered exposure, alternately; though hisdemand for money dropped with every letter until he had become a merebeggar, offering to reveal the whole in return for the relief of hispresent necessities; gave no hint of the nature of the exposure hedesired to sell. But he had received, so far, no reply to any of hisletters.
Between January and June my ship made another voyage to Lisbon andback. When I landed, what I had to learn was the continualsolicitation of Mr. Purdon, and the continual waste of the fortune.The demand for money never ceased. "Send up more money--moremoney--more money. His lordship is in urgent want of more money."
By this time a whole year had passed since the pretended marriage andour submission. Never was a magnificent property so destroyed anddiminished in so short a time. Farms, lands, houses were sold for whatthey would fetch--at half their value--a quarter of their value. Allthe money out at mortgage had been called in--all the money receivedat the quay and the counting-house had been sent to his lordship'sattorneys. In one short twelvemonth the destruction had been such thatin June there was actually nothing left--nothing out of that princelyfortune, except the fleet of ships and the general business. "And now,Mr. Pentecrosse," said the manager (lately clerk and accountant) "theend draweth nigh. A few more weeks or months and this great shippingfirm, near a hundred years old, which hath sent its ships all aboutthe world; the most important house outside London and Bristol, willput up its shutters and close its door. Alas! The pity of it! The pityof it!"
"But," I said, "this spendthrift lord, this waster and devourer,surely will not destroy the very spring and fountain of this wealth."
"I know not. He seems possessed with a devil." Here the manager waswrong, because he was possessed of seven devils. "His waste is nothingshort of madness. It seems as if he was unable to look before him,even in such a simple matter as the origin of the money, which he hasobtained by marriage--if he is married--and is now wasting as fast ashe can."
It is in no way profitable, unless one is a divine, to search into theheart of the wicked man. The psalmist, who was continually troubled byconsidering the ways of the ungodly, supplies us with sufficientguidance as to his mind and his thoughts. In the case of LordFylingdale, I would compare him with the highwaymen and common thievesin one particular, namely, that they seem to have no power of thriftor of prudence, but must continually waste and devour what theyacquire without honest labour. It is as if they understood that theirway of life being uncertain, and the end at any time possible, theironly chance of enjoyment is the present moment. Now, Lord Fylingdalewas using the proceeds of an enormous robbery obtained by a fraud ofincredible audacity. I think he felt the uncertainty of his hold. Itdepended on the silence of two persons. Should these two persons unitein revealing the conspiracy he would at least be able to rob nolonger. Now, he had already alienated both of them. The one he hadfilled with a passion for revenge; the other ... but you shall hear. Ithink, moreover, that he found a gambler's joy in the handling oflarge sums and playing with them; that he kept no account of the moneyhe lost; and that, with his companions, he kept a kind of open houseat certain taverns
for the debauches over which he presided, withoutcondescending in person to join the drunken orgy. Did he find astrange enjoyment in the debauchery of others? Men have been known--Icannot understand it--to delight in torturing other men and inwitnessing their agonies; men might also--I know not how--take adelight in witnessing orgies and in listening to the discourses ofdrunken rakes. But it is not profitable, as I said, to dwell upon themind of such a man.
It was on the 15th of June--I remember the date well--and shall alwaysremember it. _The Lady of Lynn_ had arrived two days before, and wewere moored off the quay. At ten o'clock, or thereabouts, one of thestable boys from the house came aboard bringing a message for me. Alady, lodging at the "Crown," desired to see me immediately. The ladyhad arrived in the evening in a post-chaise, having with her a maid.She had given no name, but in the morning had asked if my ship was inport, and on learning that it was she desired that a boy from thestables might carry this message to me.
I landed at our own quay--I say our own, but it was no longer ours,that is, Molly's quay. At the door of the counting-house stood themanager in conversation with the captain of one of our ships. Hebeckoned me to speak with him. When he had finished his discourse withthe captain he turned to me.
"Mr. Pentecrosse," he said, "the worst has now begun. Tell CaptainCrowle--I should choke if I had to tell him. Alas! poor man! It seemsas if the work of his life was ruined and destroyed." So saying hehanded me a letter to read. It was from my lord's attorneys, Messrs.Bisse and Son. "I suppose," said the manager, "that they are reallyacting for his lordship. Their power of attorney cannot be denied, canit? Mr. Redman says that there is nothing for it but obedience."
The letter was short:
"We have noted your information conveyed in the last schedule. You are now instructed to proceed with the sale of one of the ships. Let her be sold as she stands on arriving in port with so much of the cargo as belongs to your house. My lord is urgently pressed for money, and begs that there may be no delay. Meantime send a draft by the usual channel for money in hand.
"Your obedient servants,
"BISSE AND SON."
"A draft for monies in hand!" cried the manager. "There are no moniesin hand! And I have to sell without delay a tall ship, cargo and all,as she stands. Without delay! Who is to buy that ship--without delay?"
I returned him the letter and shook my head. My ship, perhaps, was theone to be sold. She was the latest arrival; she was filled with wine;the cargo belonged altogether to the house. So I should be turnedadrift when just within hail, so to speak, of becoming a captain. Icould say nothing in consolation or in hope. I walked away, my heartas heavy as lead. Never before had I felt the true meaning of thisruin and waste. All around me the noble edifice built by Molly'sgrandfather and her father, and continued by her guardian, had beenpulled down bit by bit. But one felt the loss of a farm or a housevery little. It was not until the ships, too, were threatened, thatthe full enormity of the thing--the incredible wickedness of theconspirators, was borne in upon my mind. It threatened to ruin me, yousee, as well as Molly.
Therefore, I walked across the market-place to the Crown Inn moregloomy in my mind than I can describe. Hitherto, somehow, a shipseemed safe; no one would interfere with a ship; like Lord Fylingdalehimself, I was ready to ask whether a ship could be bought and sold.That is to say, I knew that she was often bought and sold, but I neverthought that any of Molly's ships--any other ships as much as youplease, but not Molly's ship--could be brought to the hammer.
The lady sent word that she would receive me. Imagine my surprise! Shewas none other than the Lady Anastasia. She was greatly changed in sixmonths. I had seen her last, you remember, in January, when I met herin the park. She was then finely dressed, and appeared in good case,what we call a buxom widow--in other words, a handsome woman, with awinning manner and a smiling face. This she was when I met her. When Ileft her on that occasion she was a handsome woman marred with aconsuming wrath.
Now, I should hardly have known her. She was plainly attired, withoutpatches or paint, wearing a grey silk dress. But the chief change wasnot in her dress, but in her face. She was pale, and her cheeks werehaggard. She looked like a woman who had recently suffered a severeillness, and was, indeed, not yet fully recovered.
"Jack," she advanced, giving me her hand with her old graciousness,"you are very good to come when I call. It is the last time that youwill obey any call from me."
"Why the last time, madam?"
"Because, Jack, I am now going to make you my bitter enemy. Yes, myenemy for life." She tried to smile, but her eyes grew humid. "I cannever be regarded henceforth as anything else. You will despiseme--you will curse me. Yet I must needs speak."
"Madam, I protest--I know not what you mean."
"And I, Jack, I protest--know not how to begin. Do you remember lastJanuary, when we talked together? Let me begin there. Yes; it will bebest to begin there. I do not think I could begin at the other end. Itwould be like a bath of ice-cold water in January."
"I remember our conversation, madam."
"You told me--what was it you told me? Something about a certain box,or case of jewels."
"Molly's jewels. Yes, I told you how his lordship seized upon them atthe first when he claimed control over Molly's fortune."
"You told me that. It was in January. He had seized upon them sixmonths before. The thing surprised me. He had always told me that hecould not get those jewels--and Jack, you see, they were my own."
"Yours, madam? But--they were Molly's."
"Not at all. Molly, after her marriage, had nothing. All became mylord's property. The jewels were mine, Jack--mine by promise andcompact."
I understood nothing.
"I have seen in France, the women kneeling at the boxes where theyconfess to the priest. Jack, will you be my priest? I can confess toyou what I could never confess to Molly--though I have wrongedher--Jack! Oh! my priest----" Here she fell on her knees and claspedher hands. "No--no," she cried. "I will not rise. On my knees, on myknees--not to ask your pardon, but for the shame and the disgrace andthe villainy."
"Madam--I pray--I entreat."
I took her by both hands. I half lifted her and half assisted her. Shesank into an armchair sobbing and crying, and covered her face withher hands. She was not play acting. No--no--it was real sorrow--trueshame. Oh! there was revenge as well. No doubt there was revenge. Ifshe had been wicked, she had also been wronged. Presently sherecovered a little. Then she sat up and began to talk.
"I am the most miserable woman in the world--and I deserve my misery.Jack, when you go back to your ship, fall on your knees and thank Godthat you are poor and that Molly has been robbed of her fortune and isalso poor. Oh! to be born rich--believe me--it is a thing mostterrible. It makes men become like Lord Fylingdale, who have nothingto do but to follow pleasure--such pleasure! Ah! merciful heaven! suchpleasure! And it makes women, Jack, like me. We, too, follow pleasurelike the men--we become gamblers--there is no pleasure for me like thepleasure of gambling; we fall in love for the pleasure and whim ofit--till we are slaves to men who treat us worse than they treat theirdogs--worse than they treat their lackeys. Then we forget honour andhonesty; then we throw away reputation and good name; we acceptrecklessly shame and dishonour. My name has become a byword--but whatof that? I have been a man's slave--I have done his bidding."
"But how, madam"--still I understood very little of this talk, yetbecame suspicious when she spoke thus of the jewels--"how came Molly'sjewels to be your own?"
"I tell you, Jack. By promise and compact. I must go back to anotherdiscourse with you. It was on a certain evening a year ago. You hadmade the fine discovery that Lord Fylingdale was a gamester and therest of it. You told me. You also told me that Molly would not keepher promise, and would certainly not be at the church in the morning.Do you remember?"
"I remember that we talked about things."
"We did. Go back a month or two earlier. By a most monstrous decep
tionI was brought here. I was told first that it was in order to furthersome political object, which I did not believe; next, to help him ingetting the command of this money--some women, I said, easily losetheir sense of honour and of truth when they want to please theirlovers. As for marriage, he declared for the hundredth time that therewas but one woman in all the world whom he would marry--myself. Now doyou understand? He had deceived me. Very well, then I would deceivehim. At first my purpose was to await in the church the coming of thebride and expose the character of the man. Since she was not coming Iwould take her place."
"What? It was you, then--you--you?"
"Yes, Jack. I was the woman you saw at the rails. I had a pink silkcloak like that of Molly; I am about the same height as Molly. I worea domino as had been arranged. You took me for Molly."
"But--if you were the bride----"
"I was the bride. I am the Countess of Fylingdale--for my sins andsorrows--his wretched wife."
"But you would be revenged, and yet you suffered this monstrousfraud."
"I was revenged. Yet--why did I say nothing? Did I not say that youcould never forgive me. Well, I have no excuse, only I said thatwomen, like me, with nothing to do, sometimes go mad after a man andfor his sake cast away honour and care nothing for shame andill-repute. I say, Jack," she repeated, earnestly, "that I make noexcuse--I tell you nothing but the plain truth. Lord! how ugly it is!"
I said nothing, I only stood still waiting for more.
"When I took off my domino in the vestry, my lord, with the manPurdon, only being present, he was like a madman. That I expected.After raging for a while and crying out that he was now ruined indeed,and after cursing Mr. Purdon for not destroying the registers, helistened to Mr. Purdon's advice that we should consider a way out ofit. Accordingly, in my lodgings, the man Purdon, who is the greatestinventor and encourager of every evil thing that lives, set forth theease with which this marriage could be claimed, unless there was anyobstacle such as sudden illness which might be proved to have madeMolly's presence impossible. In other words, we were to assure theunfortunate Molly that she was already married, and we were to act asif that was the fact. We ascertained without trouble that she had notleft the house that morning. How? We sent the music to congratulatethe bride, and the captain sallied forth in his wrath and drove themoff."
"And to this you consented, out of your passion for the man?"
"Partly. There is always more than one reason for a woman's action. Inthis case there was a bribe. I confess that I have always ardentlydesired jewels. I cannot have too many jewels. He promised, Jack, thatI should have them all. Perhaps--I do not know--the promise of thejewels decided me. Oh! Jack, they were wonderful! No such bribe wasever offered to a woman before."
I gazed upon her with amazement. Truly, an explanation complete! Yet,what a confession for a proud woman to make! Love that made hertrample on honour and truth and virtue, and a bribe to quicken herfootsteps!
"And now," I said, "you are willing to make this story public."
"I have thought about the business a good deal. It has caused me moreannoyance than you would believe." ("Annoyance!" She spoke of"annoyance!") "Besides, I have been cruelly abused. I have been thecause of that poor girl losing a great part--perhaps the whole--of herfortune. I have been robbed of the jewels. He swore to me, a dozentimes, that he has never had them. I may by tardy confession savesomething from the wreck for that poor girl. He has wronged me inevery way--in ways that no woman will, or can, forgive. I revenge mywrongs by making him a beggar a few weeks, or months, before he cancome to the end of his money."
So in this distracted way she talked till one could not tell whethershe was most moved by the thought of revenge, or by pity for Molly, orby a wholesome repentance of her sin.
"Jack," she said, "your honest face is pulled out as long as my arm. Icould laugh if I were not so miserable. Tell me what I should do next.Mind, I will do exactly what you bid me do. I have lived so long amongkites, hawks, crows, and birds of prey, with foul creatures andcrawling reptiles, that merely to talk to an honest man softens andsubdues me. Take me in the humour, Jack. To-morrow, or next day,should the idea of the man possess my soul again; if he should standover me and take my hand, I know not--I know not what would happen.Perhaps, even for Molly's sake, I could not resist him. I am but apoor, weak, miserable woman. And he has led me hither, and sent methither, and made me his slave so long, that he has become part of mylife. Quick, then, Jack! Tell me what to do."
"Come with me," I said.
So she wrapped herself in a long cloak--not of pink silk--and she puton a domino and I led her to Mr. Redman's office. And here I beggedher to let me set down in writing what she had told me but in fewerwords, while Mr. Redman stood over me and read what I wrote and as Iwrote it.
"The story, your ladyship," he said, "is the most remarkable that Ihave ever heard. You will now, in the presence of witnesses--my clerkand one whom he will bring from the customhouse will serve. So--theywill sign without knowing what the paper contains."
So she signed in the same bold running hand that we had seen in theregisters.
"What next?" she asked.
"Why, madam, we have to consider the next step. It is obvious that theconfession removes the whole of the difficulty, and explains what hashitherto seemed inexplicable. How, it was asked, could the place ofthe bride be filled at the last moment, and without previous knowledgethat it would have to be filled? And who was the woman thus dulymarried and actually, though under a false name, made Countess ofFylingdale, who did not step forward and claim her rights? Now, madam,the question is answered. You knew, but my lord did not know, that thebride could not come to the church. You were there, therefore, to takeher place. You joined in this conspiracy, and kept silence for thereasons contained in this document."
"Quite so. And now, sir. What next? Will you bring my lord to justice?Shall I have to give evidence against him?"
"Madam, I know not. You have done your best, not so much to repair agreat wrong as to stop further wrong. If I understand matters arightit will be impossible to recover anything that has been taken."
"You might as well hope to recover a sack of coals that have beenburned."
"Therefore, what we have to do first, is to stop further pillage.Next, I apprehend, we must make it clear that your signature in theregister was false."
Lady Anastasia rose and put on her domino again.
"I am going back to London, sir. Mr. Pentecrosse knows my house whereI am to be heard of for the present. It was a bad day's work when Iwas married in that pink silk cloak. It may prove a worse day's workwhen I confessed."
"Nay, madam," I said quietly, "can it be a bad day's work to stop acruel and unfeeling robbery?"
"I have done my part, gentlemen, for good or for ill. In a few weeksor months the man would have beggared himself as well as that poorgirl. Now he is beggared already. I know not what he will do, norwhither he will turn."
So I led her back to the Crown and that same day she took herdeparture and I have never seen her since. One letter, it is true, Ihad from her of which I will tell you in due course.
Then I returned to Mr. Redman.
"Jack," he said, "I am going without further discussion to warn themanager not to send any more money to these attorneys and to disregardtheir orders. I shall write at once warning them that we have now inour hands clear proof that my client is not married to LordFylingdale, and that we are considering in what manner we shouldproceed with regard to the large sums that have been remitted to hisorders. This, Jack, is the way of lawyers. We write such a letterknowing that we shall not proceed further in this direction, for thescandal would be very great and the profit would be very small.Besides, there is the awkward fact that we made no protest, butsubmitted. Yet sure and certain I am that the other side will not dareto go into court, being conscious of guilt, yet not knowing how muchwe have learned."
"It seems a tame ending that villainy should get off unpunished."
> "Not unpunished, Jack. You young men look to see the lightning strikethe wicked man. That is not the way, believe me. He never goesunpunished, though he may be forgiven. I look not for the flash oflightning to strike this man dead, but I look for the vengeance of theLord--perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow."
He read over again the paper signed by Lady Anastasia. "It is astrange confession," he said. "There is the wrath of a jealous womanin it. He might have beaten her and cuffed her; he might have robbedher; and she would have forgiven him. But he has followed afterstrange goddesses. She spoke about the jewels. I suppose that he haslong since given them to these strange goddesses. Hence herrepentance. Hence her revenge. Jack, I think we ought to have theother confederate's confession--that of the man Purdon. He wantedL12,000 for it at first. He then came down to L6,000; he now offers itfor relief of his present necessities. I will send my attorney to seehim. The vicar refuses to have any dealings with scoundrels. In thiscase, however, it might be politic to traffic with him. We will offerhim L100 for a full confession. I will instruct my attorney whatparticulars to expect."
My story is nearly finished. Molly recovered her freedom with the lossof by far the greater part of her fortune. She had, indeed, nothingleft except her fleet and the trade carried on by the firm in whichshe was sole partner. Still she remained the richest woman in thetown.
There was no difficulty in procuring from the Reverend Mr. Purdon afull statement of the conspiracy. It was, of course, to be expectedthat he should represent Lord Fylingdale as the contriver and theproposer of the abominable design. However, he gave under safeguardsof witness and signature a plain recital of what had happened, inwhich he was borne out by the other confession in our hands.
And here follows the letter from the Lady Anastasia.
"My dear Jack," she said, "news reaches Lynn slowly if it gets thereat all. Therefore I hasten to inform you that an end has come--perhapsthe end that you would desire. My lord is no more. I am a widow. Yet Imourn not. My husband in name during the last twelve months has actedas one no longer in command of himself. I cannot think, indeed, thathe has been in his right mind since he entered upon that great crimeof which you know. He would have gone from bad to worse, and I shouldhave suffered more and still more. He killed himself. He placed themuzzle of a pistol within his mouth and so killed himself.
"It was yesterday. I went to see him. I had to tell him what I haddone. I expected he would kill me. Perhaps it would have been betterhad he done so.
"I found him with his attorney, a man named Bisse, whom I have seenwith him frequently.
"'Pray, madam, take a chair. I am your humble servant. You can go, Mr.Bisse,' said my lord. 'You have my instructions. Order the manager toproceed with the sale of the ships.'
"'With submission, my lord. We can send him orders, but we can onlymake him obey by proceeding according to law. He finds excuses. Hemakes delays. He talks of sacrificing the ships to a forced sale.'
"'You will not proceed according to law, my lord,' I told him.
"'Why, madam?'
"'Because I have been to Lynn myself, and have explained certainpoints in connection with the marriage service in St. Nicholaschurch.'
"My lord looked at me in his cold way, as if neither surprised normoved.
"'Mr. Bisse,' he said, 'I will communicate again with you.' So theattorney left us. Then he turned again to me.
"'My lord,' I repeated, 'I have made a statement of all the facts.'
"'I thank you, madam. I thank you with all my heart. Let me not detainyou.'
"He said no more, and I rose. But the door was thrown open, and Mr.Purdon walked in without being announced.
"'Ha!' he said, seeing me, 'we are all three, then, together again. Mylord, I will not waste your time. I have come to explain that sinceyou have refused to perform your compact, you cannot complain if Ihave broken up the whole business.'
"'I thought I had ordered you out of my presence, sir.'
"'So you did. So you did. I have only come to say that I have this daydrawn up a full confession of the conspiracy into which I was drawn byyour lordship, deceived against my better judgment by the promise of alarge sum of money.'
"Lord Fylingdale pointed to the door. 'You can go, sir,' he said. Sothe man Purdon obeyed and went away.
"Then he turned to me. 'Anastasia, we were friends once. I treated youshamefully in the matter of the jewels. Things have gone badly with meof late. I seem to have no luck. Perhaps I have, somehow, lost myjudgment. That money has done me no good. Curse that scoundrel, SamSemple! It is all over now. The game has been played. I have lost, Isuppose. But every game comes to an end at last.' He talked unlikehimself. 'You can go, Anastasia. You had better leave me. You have hadyour revenge. Let that consideration console you.'
"I said no more, but left him. It was in the afternoon. An hour laterhis people heard an explosion--they ran to find the cause. LordFylingdale was lying dead on the floor.
"So, Jack, we are all punished, and none of us can complain. For myown part I am going into the country where I have a small dower house.The solitude and the dullness will, I dare say, kill me, but I do notcare about living any longer.--ANASTASIA."
She did, however, pass into a better mind. For I heard some time afterthat she had married the dean of the neighbouring cathedral, not underthe name of Lady Fylingdale, which she never assumed, but that of herfirst husband.
As to the other confederates, the poet, the colonel, and the parson, Inever heard anything more about them. Nor do I expect now that I evershall.
The rest of Molly's history, dear reader, belongs to me and not to theworld.
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Transcriber's note:
Minor spelling and typographical errors have been correctedwithout note.
Dialect spellings, contractions and inconsistencies have beenretained as printed.
The Lady of Lynn Page 44
