Then at last Ellery said goodbye, and Joan went to get the sleep she badly needed.
XXV
Raising the Wind
Walter Brooklyn’s release was arranged more quickly than anyone had expected, and, while Ellery and Joan were still engaged in the conversation just reported, he came out of Brixton Jail a free man. At the gate he said goodbye to Thomas, and, hailing a taxi, ordered the man to drive to his Club. The porter at the Byron met him as he entered with an incredulous stare; for he was a firm believer in the theory that Brooklyn was guilty, and had for days past been telling all his friends, and those of the Club members who would listen to him, of the important part which, he himself had played in bringing the murderer to justice. Walter Brooklyn was not popular in the Club; and, by members and servants alike, the assumption of his guilt had been readily accepted.
Brooklyn passed the porter without a word, and went straight up to his room. As he passed by the door leading to the kitchen stairs, a discreetly faint smell of cooking floated up to him, and he thought how pleasant it would be to see a good dinner before him again in the comfortable Club dining-room. But a second thought gave him pause. Could he face his fellow-members just yet? He could pretty accurately guess what they had been saying about him; and he was not at all sure what his reception would be. It would be better to give time for the news of his release, and the convincing evidence of his innocence, to get round the club before he made a public reappearance. But a good dinner was indispensable. His first act on regaining the privacy of his apartment was to take up the house phone which connected with the kitchens, and to order dinner to be sent up to his room. The start of surprise which the chef gave on hearing who was speaking to him he could visualize over the phone as clearly as if the man had been standing before him in the same room. He was all the more careful for that reason in ordering his dinner, discussing the merits of one course after another at length with the chef. He meant to do himself well, and he meant the servants to understand that he was back quite on the old footing.
But Walter Brooklyn had other things to consider besides his reinstatement as a more or less respectable member of society. He was literally almost penniless, and he knew that his release from prison would merely reopen in a more insistent form the long struggle with his creditors. He must have money, and he must have it at once. His attempt to get money from Prinsep had completely failed, and Woodman had very decisively refused to give him an advance. But a great deal had happened since then. Now both Prinsep and George Brooklyn were dead; and, in more ways than one, that meant a change in his own situation. Prinsep had been the main obstacle between him and Sir Vernon, and there was at least a chance that, if he could see his brother, he would be able to get a substantial loan. He knew that Sir Vernon was very ill; but, if only he was not too ill to be approached, that might make the job all the easier. Could he not persuade the sick man to back a bill for him, or better still, write a cheque in his favour? That was one possibility. But there was another. Now that George and Prinsep were out of the way, who was there to whom Sir Vernon could leave his wealth? Only Joan and himself. Marian Brooklyn would doubtless get something, and Mary Woodman; but the bulk of the property would hardly go to them. Walter knew well enough Sir Vernon’s strong sense of family loyalty; and he was fairly sure that, in the changed circumstances, he would profit heavily when his brother died. Might it not be better, instead of risking the giving of offence to Sir Vernon by asking for a loan, to try to raise the money on the strength of his expectations? From that point of view, Sir Vernon’s illness would make the chances of success all the greater.
Walter Brooklyn had no positive knowledge of Sir Vernon’s will. Some time back, however, Sir Vernon had written to him, enclosing one of the many “last cheques” which he had given to his brother, to tell him that, “except in a very remote contingency,” he could expect no further assistance, “whether I am dead or alive.” Sir Vernon had added, “I may as well tell you that I have left the bulk of my property to my two nephews; and, as long as they live, you will receive only a comparatively small legacy. You have forfeited all claim to my esteem, and, as long as I have other near relatives to whom I can leave my property, I feel under no obligations to place any of it in your hands. I know too well what you would do with it. I tell you this in order that you may not deceive yourself by any false expectations.”
Little had Sir Vernon expected, when he wrote his letter, that the time would come when it would positively encourage his brother to look forward to a big legacy. Walter had seen Sir Vernon after receiving that letter; and, while his brother had told him nothing positive, he had come away with a shrewd idea that he could expect nothing except in the unlikely event of
