IX. Miss Rankin’s Rival
“If it is as I suspect, I will not marry him. You must use your utmost endeavours to find out the real state of the case, for it would drive me mad to discover that after all my care, I had become the dupe of a mercenary hypocrite.”
Such was the concluding portion of a communication made to me by Miss Iris Rankin, only child and sole heiress of the late John Graham Rankin, shipowner and millionaire.
The visit she paid me had its origin in a conversation which had taken place in her own drawing-room on the previous afternoon. A friend had paid her a call, and had regaled her with some gossip which had upset her considerably. This friend, Miss Cloudy, to wit, related how she, in the capacity of district visitor in connection with a very fashionable church, had met with a surprising experience.
“I was never so astonished in my life,” said Miss Cloudy, “as when I saw Mr Harold Gilbertson pass the open door of the room in which I was sitting talking to old Mrs Tweedy, one of the vicar’s parishioners. The old lady saw how surprised I was, and asked who had passed the door. In order that no mistake might be made I merely remarked that a young gentleman had gone upstairs, and that I thought it was somebody I knew.
“‘That is likely enough,’ said the old lady. ‘For though the Hansons are poor now, they haven’t always lived in a neighbourhood like this, and some of their old friends come to see them yet.’
“‘Who are the Hansons?’ I asked. ‘Do you know anything about them?’
“‘Nothing,’ I was told ‘except that they became poor when their father died. They are two very pretty young ladies, and I don’t mix much with the people hereabouts, though they have always a pleasant word for me. I’m not surprised that Mr Gilbertson is smitten, and that he comes to see them nearly every evening. I rather fancy that he is engaged to Miss Beatrice.’
“You see, Iris, it seems rather a cruel thing to tell you. But I know how you dread fortune-hunters, and I know also that you would be miserable with a man whose heart was given to another. It is much better to stop the mischief before it has become irrevocable.”
Miss Rankin fully endorsed the opinion thus expressed, although it was a bitter experience for her to be told that the man to whom she had in all confidence given her heart was merely courting her fortune, while his love was bestowed elsewhere.
Still, she never doubted the honesty of purpose of her friend, but was wise enough to subject her to a series of searching questions ere she was fully convinced that there was apparently a mistake. Even then she determined to have additional testimony before she decided upon condemning and humiliating the man to whom she was to have been married in one short month.
He was very handsome and very clever. But his income had hitherto not kept pace with his apparent popularity as a journalist, and his profession afforded him an easy excuse for spending his evenings away from his fiancée.
“I imagined him always to be hard at work every evening,” she said sadly, when consulting me. “But if my friend has really made no mistake, Mr Gilbertson has been spending his evenings in more congenial fashion than in working at his profession, or in visiting me. I cannot condescend to pursue further investigations myself. But it will not be a very difficult matter for you. You will lose no time over the business?”
“None whatever,” was my prompt assurance. And I kept my word, for that very afternoon saw me, very soberly attired and wearing my most philanthropic expression, wending my way towards the very quiet bye-street in which Mrs Tweedy lived. I was armed with all sorts of particulars, and was made aware of Mrs Tweedy’s particular foible. She only needed to scent a possible donation to become the most servile and plausible of individuals. She had always been poor, but not of the poorest, for she contrived to divert a great many gifts from indiscriminate philanthropists to herself that ought really to have been bestowed elsewhere. As I carried a neat parcel of groceries by way of make-weight to the bundle of tracts I was supposed to be distributing, I felt pretty sure of my position, and was soon chatting quite affably with the cunning old lady.
I was diplomatic enough to pave the way for the tract I had to offer by the gift of a quarter of tea and a tin of salmon, after which I might have learnt all there was to tell of the whole neighbourhood if I had wanted. We were soon chatting quite sociably together, and it was of course quite natural that, next to herself, the old lady should find her neighbours her readiest medium of gossip. As the sisters Hanson were the most interesting of these neighbours, it was equally natural that the conversation should be easily brought round to them.
I had carefully studied a photograph of Mr Gilbertson with which I had been supplied by Miss Rankin, and I purposely say opposite the open door as I chatted, in order that I might have a fair look at the Mr Gilbertson who visited the sisters every evening.
My visit was well timed, and I had not long to wait. The Misses Hansons’ Mr Gilbertson passed before my view, and I had not the slightest hesitation in judging him to be also Miss Rankin’s Mr Gilbertson. I was sorry for this, for he looked so frank and honest that anybody might have trusted him; and it is sad to have one’s ideals shattered, even if one be a detective, and, as such, already somewhat inured to the depressing influence of treacherous natures.
But my task was by no means finished. I had only seen and heard enough to corroborate the truth of Miss Cloudy’s statements, and there was too much at stake to permit any chance of blundering to survive. So when Mr Gilbertson went upstairs, I terminated my visit to the old lady, and stationed myself where he could not emerge from the house without being seen by me.
I had to wait above an hour, but it was not at all cold, and I was rewarded by seeing the gentleman come forth with one of the sisters, who certainly looked quite worthy of a man’s love. The couple walked slowly towards Hammersmith-road, followed unobtrusively by myself, who, in the gathering dusk, noticed that they appeared to be waiting for some one, as they sauntered backwards and forwards for awhile in the vicinity of St. Mary Abbott’s-terrace. Presently they were joined by another girl, who came out of a neighbouring house, carrying a music roll in her hand, and who was sufficiently like Mr Gilbertson’s companion to make me conclude that she was her sister.
Then the three retraced their step homeward, and I had no difficulty in deciding that the music teacher was the sister to whom Mr Gilbertson was supposed to be engaged. I was surprised at the openness with which he carried on his clandestine connection, for he seemed not to care who noticed him, and it was certainly running an apparent risk to show himself out of doors with Miss Rankin’s rival.
I will own to being very tired before I got to bed that night. But I was thoroughly satisfied, for I had traversed a great deal of ground, and learnt a great many important particulars of the case I was investigating. Next morning at eleven o’clock I called to see Miss Rankin at her sumptuous flat in Albert-gate Mansions, and induced her to write the following note to her fiancée: -
“I cannot see you before half-past eight this evening. But as it is absolutely necessary that I should see you then, I must ask you to put your work on one side for once, and be here at the time indicated without fail. “Iris.”
At eight-thirty that evening, having donned orthodox evening wear, I was sitting with Miss Rankin, waiting for the development of my little plot. The poor girl looked very pale, and I could see that the great anxiety was almost killing her. But I knew that it could not last much longer, and a little thrill of excitement ran through me when Miss Hanson and Mr Gilbertson were announced.
As they entered the room both looking somewhat mystified, the heiress sprang to her feet, and an angry flush suffused her face as she murmured: “This is too much!”
But in a moment she recovered her presence of mind, and haughtily addressed Mr Gilbertson: “I see you have brought your intended with you. But don’t you think you might have been off with the old love before you were on with the new?”
I am not sure who was the more astonished at this outburst, Miss Rankin herself, or the man whom she addressed. He, too, looked angry, and, bowing with studied politeness, replied, “There seems to be some mistake here. We have evidently come to the wrong house, and will wish you good evening.”
“Mr Gilbertson!” announced the butler, and, lo! the mystery was explained. There were two Romeos in the field, and Miss Rankin saw at a glance how the mistake had arisen.
The two men were actually twin brothers, and had been estranged for some time through an unjust will which had left the presumably younger son penniless, while the other had a large income. Wounded to the quick, Harold declined his brother’s friendly offers, and sought to make a name for himself in the world of letters.
I had discovered, on following the music-teacher’s admirer to his residence, that his Christian name was Gilbert, not Harold, and had arrived at a correct conclusion as to their relationship. My next proceeding was to plan a meeting of all the parties, feeling sure that it could have none but good results, and I requested the attendance of Mr Gilbert Gilbertson and Miss Hanson at Albert-gate Mansions, “to meet Mr Harold Gilbertson and his fiancée.”
As I expected, they did not fail to put in a punctual appearance, with the result that there was happiness and reconciliation all round.
Both weddings came off some time ago, and I hear that Miss Evelyn Hanson has become engaged to a very nice American, who is a millionaire – in dollars.