“ ‘But why do that?’ interrupted Cosgrove. ‘If you pay the lump sum you lose your hold on him.’
“ ‘I think not,’ returned my father. ‘It is part of my scheme that he should have a strong temptation to fall in with our wishes, and the annuity will provide that.’
“Cosgrove nodded, and my father went on with his explanation.
“Dale was to be told to get further figures from the insurance company, giving the cost of annuities for smaller annual amounts. At the same time another meeting would be arranged at which the matter would be settled and the money paid. My father was to explain to him that he didn’t want to make any more mysterious visits to town, and that Dale must therefore bring the information to Luce Manor. To keep the visit secret he was not to come to the house, but was to be at the boathouse at in the evening, where my father would slip out and meet him. Owing to the fact that my mother and sister were going away on a visit on the following day, , the meeting was provisionally fixed for .
“Without letting Dale know, Cosgrove and I were also to be at the boathouse, and with our support my father was to take a strong line with Dale. The following proposition would be made him. My father would recognise the value of the secret, and would pay Dale, through some agency which would conceal his identity, a sum to the insurance company which would bring Dale in an annuity of about a pound a working day—say £320 per annum. This he would do on condition that Dale would give us an incriminating weapon against himself, which would take the value out of his secret, but which would not be used if he held his tongue. He was to sign a document stating that he was Edward Dale, not Tom; that he admitted having blackmailed my father by falsely representing himself as Tom; that he further admitted my father’s power and right to send him to penal servitude, but that he begged that on this full admission of guilt, coupled with an immediate and total cessation of all annoyance, my father would refrain from ruining and embittering the closing years of his life.
“ ‘He’ll never sign,’ Cosgrove interrupted again.
“ ‘Wait a moment,’ my father answered, and he went on to explain that if Dale refused to sign, he was to be threatened with immediate death by being tied up, gagged, and drowned in the water basin in the boathouse, it being explained to him that, after being unbound, his body would be sent down over the falls, whereby his death would be put down to accident.
“I was amazed at my father seriously suggesting such a proceeding, and I felt strongly opposed to it.
“ ‘No, no,’ I cried, ‘we can’t do that,’ and Cosgrove nodded his agreement.
“ ‘Why not?’ my father queried, and set himself to overcome our scruples. He argued that if our objection was to making the man sign a false statement, we must remember it was only a bluff, and said that for the sake of my mother and sister we must be willing to do what we might otherwise reasonably object to. If, on the other hand, we were considering Dale’s feelings, we should not forget we were suggesting no harm to him—on the contrary we were about to offer him a large sum of money. The intention was not to injure him, but to prevent him injuring us.
“ ‘It’s not that,’ said Cosgrove. ‘I don’t give a fig for the false statement, nor the man’s feelings either. As you say, he more than deserves far worse treatment than what you suggest. Nor do I care if the thing brings us within reach of the law—I would risk that for my aunt, and so would we all. But I don’t like your plan because it will not work.’
“ ‘Why not?’ asked my father.
“ ‘Why not?’ Cosgrove repeated. ‘Because Dale has only to inform the police of the whole affair. He would be believed. How would we account for our meeting here, to take one point only?’
“ ‘Ah,’ my father rejoined, ‘you always go too fast. I meet that difficulty in two ways. If Dale informed, I would say he signed the confession when I saw him in London—I shall see him this afternoon—under my threat of otherwise immediately exposing his blackmail to the police. Secondly, alibis are easy to fake. Each of the three of us must work out a false alibi, so that we can deny the meeting in the boathouse in toto.’
“ ‘No, no, I don’t like it,’ Cosgrove demurred.
“ ‘None of us like it,’ answered my father, ‘and I admit my plan is far from perfect. But can you suggest anything better?’
“I was even more strongly against the whole business than Cosgrove, and both of us began raising objections to it. We argued that even if we obtained the false confession, it would not ensure our immunity from annoyance. To this my father replied that that was where Dale’s cowardly nature came in. The man would not be sure how the confession would affect him if it fell into the hands of the police, and he would be afraid to risk its becoming known.
“We discussed the matter at great length, but neither Cosgrove nor I had an alternative proposal to offer, and at last my father persuaded us against our better judgment to fall in with his.
“I need not weary you by telling you all the arguments used, but at last the details were settled and we turned to the consideration of the false alibis.
“In my father’s case it was considered sufficient that there should be no evidence of the visit, lest overmuch proof of our statements should show an element of design. Owing to my mother and sister being from home, he would in the evening be left alone in his study, from which he could slip
