It was on perfectly plain paper, with no address, but giving careful instructions as to how the money was to be paid in Paris.
Even then I did not grasp the full meaning of what I read. The note had come by hand, straight from Collins but within a few moments I received a letter by hand from the Duke, containing the note I was expecting from Collins, which, he said, had evidently been sent to him in error. There could be only one explanation, however improbable it appeared. The two letters had come from the same person.
I went at once to the Duke, and in strict confidence told him of what had happened. He told me the whole dreadful story.
This man Webb—Julian Webb—had been draining him like a cask.
Of course, I could have called in the police, but such terrible issues were at stake, and the scandal would have been so profound, that I chose the other course.
I knew the risk and counted the cost. I sent for Collins, and faced him with the letter, and the situation. He tried to bluff, and of course denied the whole thing. I told him quite plainly that if I put the matter into the hands of the police, as it was my duty to do, it would mean disgrace and a long term of penal servitude for him; but that I was willing to save a scandal, to let him leave the country after he had handed over the incriminating documents. I informed him that when he had gone I should place the whole thing in the hands of Scotland Yard. He asked me for a week to consider the matter, and make his arrangements.
He is coming to see me tomorrow in Town, and has agreed to bring the documents with him.
I feel that, to such a man, the disgrace and flight will not appeal, and my life is now in grave danger. I have promised, perhaps somewhat rashly, not to reveal anything till I have seen him, so I can take no steps, but I am writing this and hiding it where you only will know, and if you come back, you will know what has happened to your father.
If all is well, I shall myself destroy this when this danger is past.
I can write no more. If you should ever read this you will know how to act.
Goodbye my boy, and think kindly of your father, who treated you harshly, but has always loved you.
Look after Mabel. If I am dead it is my wish that she marry Eric, who is a good boy. I have been very selfish in this matter.
Well, here it was at last.
Every one of the listeners remained lost in his own thoughts.
Ronald buried his face in his hands.
Allery broke the silence. Leaning across to Sinclair, he took his hand, and said, “I apologise. You were right and we were wrong, but who would have suspected it?”
“Please don’t apologise, Mr. Allery,” said Sinclair. “It was a terrible shock to me, and as I told you, it was only last evening that I could make up my mind.
“I think everything is clear now. Collins had no intention of going abroad. He got round Sir James to give him that week to mature his plans for as cunning and clever a murder as was ever planned.
“The visit in the afternoon, with all its precautions, was absolutely necessary, so that he could drug him, though how he managed to get him to take a whiskey and soda I cannot think. Probably he promised to agree with everything, otherwise Sir James would have immediately sent to Scotland Yard. Sir James’ promise then held good, and Collins would say he would bring all the necessary documents. After he had gone, some misgiving must have come to Sir James. Perhaps he was feeling drowsy, and suspicion of evil was growing in his mind.
“Anyway he wrote that letter, which did not break his promise, as you see.”
“There is a possibility, which is like the man’s daring,” said Allery.
“Collins may have gambled on Sir James taking a whiskey after he had gone. There are tasteless sleeping drugs which could have been put in the glass. You remember the room was in partial darkness.”
“I will go and break it to Mabel. She must know the truth. It is better that I should tell her,” and he glanced at Sanders.
Without another word he went out.
“What are you going to do about the whole thing?” said Ronald, turning to Sinclair.
“I shall have to lay the matter before Boyce, and of course Jackson must be exonerated, but I hope that nothing will be done. It would rake up the whole scandal which Sir James gave his life to hide, and the man is beyond the reach of the Law. I see no point in a sensational disclosure.”
“I am glad,” said Watson. “I would rather have it so.”
Mabel came into the room with Allery. She held her head proudly, and was dry-eyed, though very white. She walked straight to Sanders.
“Eric,” she said. “I have had a terrible lesson, and I do not suppose I shall ever forget it. I have misjudged you, and you were right in your opinion. If you wish our engagement to be announced, I am willing. And please forgive
