Whymper made no reply and French, recalling his theory that the secret concerned Ruth’s parentage, decided on a bluff.
“Well,” he said, quite sharply for him. “If you won’t speak I shall have to get the information from Miss Averill. I shall be sorry to have to force her confidence about her parents, but you leave me no option.”
The bluff worked better than French could have hoped. Whymper started forward with consternation on his face.
“What?” he cried. “Then you know?” Then realising what he had said, he swore. “Confound you, Inspector, that was a caddish trick! But you won’t get any more out of me in spite of it.”
French tried his bluff again.
“Nonsense,” he answered. “It would be far better for Miss Averill that you should tell me than that she should. But that’s a matter for you. If you like to tell me, well; if not, I shall go straight to her. Look here,” he leaned forward and tapped the other’s arm, “do you imagine that you can keep the affair secret? I’ve only got to trace Mr. Simon Averill’s history and go into the matter of Miss Ruth’s parentage and the whole thing will come out. It’s silly of you.” He waited for a moment, then got up. “Well, if you won’t, you won’t. You’ll come along to the station first and then I’ll go to Miss Averill.”
Whymper looked startled.
“Are you going to arrest me?”
“What else can I do?” French returned.
Whymper wrung his hands as if in despair, then motioned the Inspector to sit down again.
“Wait a minute,” he said brokenly. “I’ll tell you. I see I can’t help myself. It is not that I am afraid for myself, but I see from all you say that I have no alternative. But I trust your word not to use the information if you can avoid it.”
“I give you my word.”
“Well, I suppose that is as much as I can expect.” He paused to collect his thoughts, then went on: “I have already explained to you about Roper meeting me when I reached Starvel and his saying that Mr. Averill was too ill to see me, and you have seen the letter that I took to be from Mr. Averill, stating that he did not wish to put the matter in question in writing, that Roper was his confidential attendant, that he understood the affair in question and had been authorised to explain it to me. Of course on receipt of that letter I was prepared to believe whatever I heard, and I did believe it.”
“Quite natural,” French admitted suavely.
“Roper began by saying that his part in the affair was very distasteful to him, that he felt he was intruding into a family and very private matter, but that he had no alternative but to carry it through as Mr. Averill had given him definite instructions to do so. He added that he was particularly sorry about it, as the matter was bound to be very painful to me. It was about Miss Averill.”
Whymper was evidently very reluctant to proceed, but he overcame his distaste after a moment’s hesitation and in a lower voice continued:—
“He went on to ask me, again with apologies, whether Mr. Averill was correct in believing I wished to marry Miss Averill. If I did not, he said the information would be of no interest to me and he need not proceed with the matter. But if I did wish to marry her there was something I should know.
“As a matter of fact, I wanted the marriage more than anything else on earth, and when I said so to Roper he gave me the message. He told me that, a few days before, Mr. Averill had received a letter which upset him very much and, Roper thought, had brought on his illness. But before I could appreciate the significance of the letter he would have to explain some family matters.
“Mr. Simon Averill had a brother named Theodore—I shall call them Simon and Theodore to distinguish them. As a young man Theodore had all the promise of a brilliant career. He had gone into business in London and held a very good position as French representative of his firm. He had married a French lady of old family and great beauty. One child was born, a daughter, Ruth.
“But unfortunately he was not steady, and as time passed he grew wilder and wilder and his relations with his wife became more and more strained. At last when Ruth was four years old and they were living in London, there was some fearful trouble which finished him up.
“Roper did not know the details, but it was a scandal in some illicit gambling rooms in London. Theodore was caught cheating. They were all half drunk and in the row that followed a man was killed. It was never known who actually fired the shot, but Theodore was suspected. At all events he disappeared and was never heard of again. It was the last straw for his wife and she collapsed altogether. She brought Ruth, a child of four, to Simon, begged him to look after her, and then committed suicide.
“Nothing more was heard of Theodore Averill and everyone concerned believed him dead. Simon’s surprise may be imagined
