As Tanner spoke he signed to Mr Clayton, who swung round suddenly and faced Douglas.
The latter had seemed very much mystified by the whole proceedings. His eyes had followed Tanner’s gestures as each member of the party had been mentioned, and he had made each a slight bow. But when he saw Mr Clayton’s face he remained as if turned to stone. At first for a moment he seemed puzzled and doubtful, then his eyes fixed themselves in a tense stare on the other’s features, his face grew slowly pale and drops of sweat formed on his forehead. Then, as if some second thought had passed through his mind, an expression of something like relief showed in his eyes. So he sat, staring, motionless.
But if the effect of the meeting on Douglas was disconcerting, it was as nothing to that produced on Mr Clayton. On first seeing the newcomer, he too looked puzzled and doubtful. Then gradually an expression of utter astonishment spread over his features. He literally gasped, and seemed so overwhelmed with amazement as to be bereft of the power of speech.
The surprise on the countenances of the two chief actors in the scene was reflected faintly on the faces of Lois Drew and the solicitor. But on Tanner’s there was triumph. If the girl and her cousin had not realised what was happening, he had. His plan had succeeded. That these two knew each other was established beyond any possibility of denial. It was as if each had shouted his recognition of the other aloud. He spoke quietly to the suspected man.
‘So you really are Edward Dale?’
The words seemed to restore the power of movement to Mr Clayton.
‘No,’ he almost shouted in his excitement. ‘It’s not Edward Dale. It’s Tom!’
Tanner jumped as if struck in the face.
‘What?’ he stammered. ‘What’s that you say? Tom? But—but—I thought—’
His voice trailed away into silence as the meaning of this discovery began to penetrate into his mind. Tom Dale was lost in the Numidian disaster thirty-five years before—so he had been told, and so every one had believed. But every one must have been wrong. If this were Tom, he must have escaped from the wreck. He must have escaped and he must have concealed his escape. Why? Why should he conceal it? Why, to get rid of his wife, of course. It was a case of desertion. He had had all her money; he hated her. Of course that was it. He would take the opportunity to change his name and make a bid for freedom. But his wife—And then Tanner gasped in his turn as he saw the further consequences involved. His wife had married Sir William Ponson, thinking her first husband was dead. But now it was clear that had been no marriage at all. Lady Ponson was Lady Ponson no longer, but Mrs Tom Dale—the wife of the drunken ex-clerk and suspected blackmailer! Sir William was not married. Austin and Enid were illegitimate! No wonder Sir William submitted to blackmail rather than allow such a scandal to become public. As innocent in the matter as the babes unborn, Sir William and the woman he had considered his wife, as well as his son and daughter, would have had to pay as dear as if the whole affair had been deliberate.
Tanner glanced at Mr Clayton. His excitement had subsided, and a look of fierce indignation against Dale was showing on his face. Tanner spoke.
‘I suppose there can be no mistake?’
‘Mistake?’ the other burst out. ‘Man alive, look at him. By heaven I wish there was a mistake!’
‘We had better bring him up to Gateshead, and see if anyone else will confirm your identification.’
There was an interruption from the prisoner.
‘You needn’t trouble,’ he said sadly. ‘I admit it. I am Tom Dale.’
‘You escaped from the Numidian?’
‘I escaped. I was picked up by a fishing smack and taken into Gloucester. I was on board four days before we got in, and I had plenty of time to make my plans. I don’t pretend I wasn’t wrong, but I wasn’t so bad as you think. I dare say you won’t believe me, but I did it for Ethel’s sake. She was tied to me, and I knew I was a bad egg and had all but ruined her. And what’s more, I knew I would ruin her outright if I went back to her. So I deserted her. But all I rid her of was trouble. I thought I would give her another chance with her life, and I did. I swore she would never know. And if I did go wrong, she at least has had her life happy since because of it.’
The man spoke simply, and with a certain dignity which impressed his hearers.
‘How did you conceal your identity?’ Tanner asked.
‘Very easily. I had made friends on the voyage with another passenger. He had told me he was alone in the world. I saw him drown. I took his name.’
‘And then you came here and blackmailed the man you had injured?’
Dale nodded his head slowly.
‘I admit that too,’ he said sorrowfully. ‘I most bitterly regret it, but I must admit it. I do not want to make any excuses for that, but here again the facts are not quite so black as they look. When I had been out there about thirty years I got a longing for the old country. I had made a little money in the States, and I left my job and came over to England. I was afraid to go back to Gateshead, so I looked around and took that cottage in Devonshire. Then one day in London I met Ponson—I didn’t know he had a handle to his name then. He recognised me, and there was a scene. I thought he would have killed me in the street. Then I got him into a bar, and we took a private room and had it out. I understood he had a right to have a down on me for deserting Ethel, but at first I couldn’t understand why he was so absolutely mad. Then I learnt. I hadn’t known what had happened to Ethel, for I was too much afraid of arousing suspicion as to who I was, to go back to Gateshead or make any inquiries. He threatened me so wildly I got afraid for my life, and then I saw how I could turn the tables on him. I told him that so far from me being in his power, he was in mine. I told him I would make the affair public myself, and that if I could be punished I would take it, and he could have the scandal. He blustered at first, then gradually he saw his position, and then he crawled. He offered to make the thing a business proposition. He would pay for my silence. He pressed his offer on me, and I accepted it at last. And I have at least kept my word. Not a whisper of the affair has passed my lips. But I admit taking the money. I was very hard up, and it meant a lot to me. You don’t understand, gentlemen, how much a few pounds means to a poor man. And with all his thousands he didn’t miss it. Not any more than you would miss a penny if you dropped it. I took it and I admit I pressed him for more.’
‘Was that what you went to the Luce Manor boathouse for on the night of the murder?’
Chief Inspector Edgar moved suddenly.
‘Come, Tanner, that won’t do,’ he advised, and then to Dale: ‘You needn’t answer that unless you like.’
Dale hesitated. To the others it seemed as if he was on the verge of a confession. Then he bowed to Edgar.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I had perhaps better consult my solicitor first.’
Tanner looked annoyed, but he controlled himself and again addressed the prisoner.
‘Then you don’t wish to make any statement?’
‘No. Not at present, at any rate.’
Tanner nodded and rang his bell. The same sergeant re-entered and signed to Dale to follow him. Then, including the whole party in a slight bow, the latter rose from his chair and the two men left the room.
The silence which fell when the door was closed lasted a full thirty seconds, and then Daunt broke it.
‘Well, Inspector, this has been very interesting, but I’m hanged if I can make head or tail of it. Maybe you’d explain to Miss Drew and me what it’s all about.’
Chief Inspector Edgar rose.
‘I think that’s all I’m concerned in,’ he said, and turning to Mr Clayton, he invited him to smoke a cigar in his room.
When Tanner was left alone with the cousins, he realised that he had an extremely unpleasant task to perform. Miss Drew, as the affianced wife of Austin Ponson, was personally interested in the story. Though from his knowledge of her he thought she would not place so great importance on the unfortunate occurrence as might a
shallower and more conventional woman, yet the news could not be otherwise than a shock to her. He wished someone else had the telling of it.
But no purpose would be saved by delay. The sooner he began, the sooner the unwelcome job would be over.
Asking Miss Drew’s permission, he passed his cigar case to Daunt, then drew forward his chair and began to speak.
‘I am afraid the story I have to tell you will come rather as a shock to you,’ he said, as he examined the end of his cigar. ‘This man Dale had been blackmailing Sir William Ponson for the last four years. There was an exceedingly unfortunate secret in Sir William’s life—unknown to him until he learnt it from Dale at that time, four years ago. Sir William was in no wise to blame for what had taken place. So far as I can learn, he had acted with scrupulous honour all through. The fault was Dale’s and Dale’s only. But to make it clear I must tell you from the beginning.’
The cousins remained almost motionless while the Inspector related the details of his journey north, and the facts he had there learnt; the family history of the Dales; how the brothers came across Sir William in the Eagle Ironworks; the rivalry between Ponson and Tom Dale for the hand of the pretty Ethel Osborne; Tom’s success in the contest; the unhappy married life of the young couple; Tom’s mission to Canada; the loss of the Numidian, and his presumed death; Sir William’s marriage with Mrs Dale, and the birth of Austin and Enid; Tom Dale’s return to England; and finally the blackmailing, culminating in the presumed negotiations for the purchase of the annuity.
‘But the murder?’ asked Daunt when at last the Inspector paused. ‘What about that?’
‘The murder unfortunately remains as great a mystery as ever,’ Tanner answered slowly; ‘indeed, even more so,’ and he explained his difficulty about, as he expressed it, the wrong man having been killed.
The two men discussed the affair for some minutes further, Miss Drew remaining silent. When they got up to take their leave her eyes were very bright, and there was an expression on her face the Inspector could not quite fathom.
‘Mr Tanner,’ she said as she held out her hand, ‘I would like to thank you for the way you told your story.’
Outside the Yard she dismissed Daunt.
‘I am going to write to Austin,’ she announced. ‘I shall leave the letter at your office shortly after lunch, then, like a dear man, you will take it to him immediately, and bring me the answer.’
‘Of course, I will, old girl,’ Daunt answered her as they parted.
CHAPTER XV
IN THE LUCE MANOR BOATHOUSE
THAT same evening Daunt paid his promised visit to Austin Ponson. He found his client seated despondently in his cell, his head resting on his hands. Like Dale, he had aged since his arrest. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes weary, and as he moved his head a suspicion of grey showed at his temples. His manner had lost its old ease and lightness, and it was evident that the crisis through which he was passing would leave its mark on him for many a day to come.
‘I have something for you, Mr Ponson,’ the solicitor said as he sat down and felt in his pocket for Lois’s letter. ‘You are to let me have an answer.’
Austin’s eyes lit up as he saw the handwriting, and he seized the note with eagerness. To let him read it in peace, Daunt drew some papers from his pocket and began to study them. But he hadn’t done so for many seconds when an exclamation drew his attention back to the other.
Austin Ponson had risen to his feet and was excitedly pacing the cell. He was a transformed man. A smile was on his lips, his eyes were shining, and his face had a rapt and beatific expression, like that of a man who sees a vision of angels.
‘My Heavens!’ he cried, ‘What a girl! She’s beyond anything I could have imagined. One in a thousand millions! I can hardly realise it. I tell you, Daunt, if I never get out of this hell again, it’s been worth it. It would be worth any suffering to get such a letter. Tell her—But you can’t tell her. Nor I. No one could ever tell her what I feel.’
He paused and looked at the other, then resumed his hurried pacing.
‘I swear that if I get out of this place, I’ll make it up to her. I’ll live for her day and night, and for nothing else. She’ll never regret what she has done—that is,’ he sank into his chair and the dejected look returned to his face, ‘if I ever do get out.’
‘You forget, Mr Ponson, that I don’t know what’s in your note.’
Austin stared.
‘You don’t?’ he queried in surprise. ‘Why, she tells me the whole thing’s out—that Tom Dale has been found, and that she knows about my father’s marriage and my birth. And’—his face lit up and he spoke triumphantly—‘she says she doesn’t mind—that it will make no difference to’—he paused as if for a word, then concluded—‘her feelings towards me. What do you think of that?’
‘I congratulate you very heartily, Mr Ponson,’ Daunt replied, though with a mental reservation. ‘But I can assure you that so far as I am aware, the whole thing is anything but “out”. It is true the identity of William Douglas with Tom Dale has been discovered, and the effect his existence has on the validity of your father’s marriage is known. But that is all. No explanation of the murder has yet come to light. And, after all, that is really what matters.’
‘Has Dale admitted his identity?’
‘Yes.’
‘And has he made no statement about what took place in the boathouse?’
‘None. But, Mr Ponson, that remark implies to me that you were there yourself and know.’
Austin looked sharply at the speaker.
‘I didn’t say so,’ he answered dryly, ‘but—stop, let me think a moment.’
For some minutes silence reigned in the gloomy cell. To Daunt it had seemed as if his client was on the verge of a confession, and he wondered if one more sordid story was to be added to the list of those to which the grey walls of this grim apartment had in all probability listened. Austin sat motionless, his mind evidently engrossed with some problem, the solution of which eluded him. But at last he seemed to find it. Straightening himself up, he faced the solicitor.
‘This news you have brought makes a tremendous difference to me,’ he said. ‘From my point of view there is no longer any reason why the events of that tragic night should not be known. I have remained silent for two reasons. First, because of my mother. The thought of her learning that she was still the wife of that drunken scoundrel was more than I could bear. You’ll understand my feelings—the whole thing is so painful I hate to speak of it. Then there was another reason. I made the unforgivable blunder of being afraid to tell Miss Drew. I have paid for that already, and every bit of that payment I deserve ten times over. I distrusted her. I thought if the circumstances of my birth came out she might have nothing more to do with me. And I just couldn’t risk that. You see, it was not as if there had been any deliberate evil on my parents’ part. Both were utterly innocent, and even ignorant that anything was wrong. Therefore I could not see that I was called upon to chance the wrecking of my happiness on what was after all a mere technical matter only. God forgive me, I did not intend to tell that angel. I feared the stigma would remain. Well, I have suffered for it. As I ought to have known, she was above a petty feeling of that sort. I should have told her the moment I knew of the matter myself. I should have told Tanner everything at the start. Much trouble would have been saved. And now it may be too late. I may not be believed.’
‘I don’t know, of course, what you propose to tell,’ said Daunt as the other paused, ‘but as your legal adviser I should warn you to be very careful of what you say to anyone. If you care to tell your story to me, I shall be pleased to advise you as to what, if any of it, should be made public.’
‘I suppose that would be wisest,’ Austin returned, ‘but I have quite made up my mind. From the first I decided to tell all I knew if the secret of my parentage came out. That was the only reason for my silence. Indeed, I was coming to the conclusion I must tell in any case, even i
f I myself had to reveal it. I appreciate your offer and under other circumstances would gladly avail myself of your advice, but whatever the consequences, I am going to tell. But I by no means wish the affair to be made public. I want most of all to tell Miss Drew, I would like to tell you, and I must tell Tanner. If you will help me by making this possible, I will be for ever your debtor. One other thing, I should like Cosgrove to know my decision. It is only due to him. Can you arrange these matters?’
‘I think so. But I cannot but feel you may be making a mistake in not first taking, I don’t say my advice, but the advice of some legal man. I cannot move you on that point?’
‘My dear fellow,’ said Austin warmly, ‘there is no one whose advice I would take more readily than yours. But in this case we need not discuss it. If you will not help me to the interview I want, I will send for Tanner and tell him here.’
Daunt saw there was no more to be said. He waited till Austin had written his reply to Lois—a lengthy and complicated proceeding—then, promising he would see Tanner without delay, he left the cell.
Inspector Tanner was keenly interested by the news.
‘At last!’ he exclaimed in a satisfied tone. ‘We shall get the truth this time. He’s getting frightened. He’ll not bluff us any more.’
‘I don’t see that you’ve any right to say that,’ Daunt returned hotly. ‘It will be time enough to accuse him of lying when you hear what he has to say.’
Tanner smiled.
‘Very good, Mr Daunt. I’ll not say a word—till then.’
It was arranged that the proceedings of that morning should be repeated next day. Austin would be brought to Scotland Yard, and there in the presence of Lois, Daunt, Tanner, and a stenographer, he could make his statement.
At eleven o’clock next day Lois and Jimmy Daunt drove up to the Yard, and were shown without delay to Tanner’s room. There they met the Inspector and his Chief, Mr Edgar, who had expressed a wish to be present on this occasion also. At the desk was a shorthand writer.
The Ponson Case Page 24
