Mr. Capt was a very superior servant, but like most servants he was innately curious. The little red morocco box, which he had never seen opened, which had always accompanied his deceased master on his numerous journeys, and which was habitually kept in his master's iron safe, had always puzzled him. It's not very much to be wondered at, then, that when Mr. Capt saw the box upon the table in Mrs. Haggard's boudoir, with its key standing invitingly in the lock, he should seize the opportunity to take a peep at its contents. When Capt saw what those contents were, being an unscrupulous man, he hesitated not an instant in becoming their possessor. With men such as Capt, chantage, as the French call it, is a favourite mode of obtaining wealth. We know how Capt had blackmailed Lucy Warrender for years, and how he was a past-master in the art. We know, too, that Capt meditated a still grander coup. The secret he possessed had been a little fortune to him during poor Lucy's lifetime, and, like the shares of a successful mine, Mr. Capt's secret had developed in value with astonishing rapidity. But Capt was a timid as well as a cautious man; he had a holy horror of the terrors of the law. The secret he had to sell was a valuable one, it is true, but the chain of proof was incomplete. Capt could show that the ladies had gone to Auray in a mysterious manner. Capt could swear that Miss Warrender, under the threat of exposure, had made no secret to him that she was the mother of the boy Lucius; but who Lucius's father was, had been to Mr. Capt an impenetrable mystery. And as Mr. Capt rubbed his hands at the thought of the disclosures he could make and their great pecuniary value, his smile of delight would fade at the reflection, that though all he swore might be perfectly true, yet, like the inspired Cassandra, he might fail to find anybody to believe him. Great then was Capt's delight at getting possession of the miniature which represented Lucy Warrender in her Watteau costume, for it opened up to him the means of placing his own evidence beyond a doubt, by adding to it the probably unwilling testimony of Lord Spunyarn, a witness who would be above suspicion. His master's monogram upon the portrait case, followed by the single word "Rome" and the date, brought back all the facts distinctly to his mind. He remembered actually looking on with his own eyes, disguised as he was as a Roman warrior, upon the fracas between Haggard and the unfortunate Mons. Barbiche at Papayani's ball; he had seen the blue domino upon Haggard's arm, and he had gazed with curiosity, striving to penetrate the secrecy of the very mask which was now in his possession. Probably, he thought, Lord Spunyarn was Haggard's confidant in the whole matter, but when he read the packet of letters all doubt was set at rest, and Mr. Capt felt that the honour of a noble family was his to traffic with, and that all that remained was to look out for the best bargain. Mr. Capt then secreted his prey at once. Secure now in the possession of the power of proving what he had to tell, he had but to take his merchandise to the best market and dispose of it to the highest bidder. Unfortunately for the valet, there were only a few possible purchasers for the valuable commodity he had to sell. There was the old lord, but Capt doubted whether Lord Pit Town might feel disposed to invest his money in proving the eldest son of his own deceased heir to be a bastard. As for Mrs. Haggard, dealings with her were out of the question, for she was prostrated by the stroke of paralysis. Then Capt's mind reverted to old Warrender, but he thought with horror of the collection of antiquated horsewhips which hung in the entrance-hall of The Warren, and he remembered that Squire Warrender, though a very old man now, had a vigorous arm, and that he was a justice of the peace. The other possible purchasers that remained were the two young men, but unfortunately both were under age, and, therefore, comparatively penniless; so Mr. Capt, reluctantly enough, was compelled to defer negotiations to Lord Pit Town's death, or, at all events, until Lucius Haggard's majority, and he determined whichever of those events might happen first, that he would then realize his property at once.
Capt had reluctantly made up his mind to wait; he carefully packed up the contents of the little box which he had purloined, including the brilliant earrings, for he feared to dispose of them, though they were very valuable, lest he might be accused of, and punished for, a robbery. Besides the earrings were a part of the proofs. It was quite a neat little parcel he made, and he carefully covered the whole with waterproof canvas, lest the valuable contents of the packet might be damaged by weather. Mr. Capt had determined to place his property in a temporary hiding place, for he argued rightly that Lord Spunyarn, as soon as he was aware of the robbery that had been committed, would leave no stone unturned to regain possession of the deposit he had so carelessly guarded.
Nature had provided Mr. Capt with a hiding-place suitable in every way to his designs. In the most secluded portion of the park, whither he was accustomed to resort to meditate and smoke his master's cigars in secret, was a very picturesque beech. At about the height of a man in the trunk of this vigorous young tree was a hole some eighteen inches deep, just large enough to admit a man's hand. Into this natural hiding-place Mr. Capt remembered to have once himself thrust his fingers from curiosity. It was not without some hesitation that he placed his property in the cavity, and to make assurance doubly sure he covered the packet with a few dead leaves and closed the mouth of the hole with a big stone, upon which he artistically placed a little layer of living moss, carefully smoothing down the edges of the tuft with his fingers. And then Mr. Capt became once more a waiter upon Providence.
The explosion which Mr. Capt had expected took place. The sudden summoning of the family lawyer, and the striking down of Mrs. Haggard by paralysis, had sufficiently informed him of the fact. He felt certain that a vigorous perquisition would ensue, and it was with considerable satisfaction, that he reflected that he had been beforehand in the matter, and that he had placed, what he looked upon as his property, in safety.
The interview between Lord Pit Town and his solicitor was a long one. The old lord was naturally much agitated. As was to be expected, he placed himself unreservedly in the hands of his legal adviser, and he determined not to move in the matter.
"You seem to think, Brookes," he said, "that there is nothing to be done in this thing."
"Certainly not, my lord," Mr. Brookes replied. "The late Mr. Reginald Haggard's widow, should she recover possession of her faculties, which her medical adviser has informed me is extremely doubtful, would be able assuredly to give us the solution of the mystery; till then, or till her death, it is my opinion that we can take no action whatever. It is certainly not for us to throw any doubt upon the legitimacy of the young man, whom you must perforce continue to look upon as your lawful heir. Of Lucius Haggard's silence for his own sake, we may be certain. Lord Spunyarn we may trust, while Mrs. Haggard herself will assuredly reveal nothing until her health is in some measure restored, and then only probably under considerable pressure from you, if you should, under the circumstances, consider such a course advisable. If there really was a secret, Lord Pit Town, we can rely upon the discretion of a woman who has kept it for twenty years. But after all it seems to me that it is only the distant branches of the family who suffer in losing a remote contingent succession; even if the extremely unlikely history which Lord Spunyarn gave me is a fact, and true in all its details, Lucius Haggard is still Reginald Haggard's son. It seems to me that it is not for us to stir up the question of his legitimacy. Possibly your lordship might feel inclined to put pressure upon him, and make him covenant not to marry in his younger brother George's lifetime, and so the title and entailed estates would eventually pass to George Haggard or his heirs."
"That is, of course, supposing the story to be true," quavered the old lord.
"It is impossible, my lord, in the absence of the documents, for us to take any notice of the story. I may attempt, if you wish it, to obtain information. I might sound the late Mr. Haggard's valet, though I think it would be extremely bad policy to do so. As for George Haggard, my lord, he is his father's heir, and you and I, my lord, know that the present disposition of your lordship's property will amply compensate him for the loss of the Pit Town title and the Walls End estates, even if they were really his by right."