The next morning the daily papers announced that during the passage of the Dover-Calais boat a lady passenger had been missed. The unclaimed luggage left behind proved her to have been Eulalie, Lady Madeley.
Some six weeks later, Tempest received a letter:
“Dear Mr. Tempest,—In thinking things over quietly, I have come to the conclusion that you probably knew a great deal more than you made public at the trial. If I am right, I am grateful to you, though you left me no alternative but to leave England at once. If you will do one generous action, you will do another. Evangeline I never knew or cared about; Consuelo is and was the delight of my life. Will you, whatever happens, whatever comes out, please do everything that is possible for her? She has no one to guard her now, for, as an illegitimate child, she has not inherited the property, and so the trustees who have been acting are not really her trustees at all. Will you please do what you can to straighten out the tangle I have made? You will never hear of me again. I am going to Australia, to earn my living, and start again, if I can. If I cannot, then in reality I shall end it, as the world already thinks I have done. Please don’t try to find me.
“Now, for the last time I sign myself by the name to which I have no right.—Yours, Eulalie Madeley.”
Sometimes things straighten themselves out without much outside interference. Billy Fitz Aylwyn preferred to waive his own claims in view of the realisation of his great desire. Let the Times tell the conclusion of the story.
“Fitz Aylwyn—Madeley.—On the 17th inst., at St. Peter’s, Eaton Square, Wilbraham Plantagenet de Bohun, only son of the late Sir Brabazon Fitz Aylwyn, G.C.B., to Consuelo, Baroness Madeley.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.