The Lost Parchment: A Detective Story

by Fergus Hume

[CHAPTER XXI]

A FINAL SURPRISE

At the inquest, held on the body of the unfortunate Carrington, the whole story of the events connected with the will of John Hendle was related in detail. This was done by the advice of Inspector Lawson, so as to avert further trouble. As the officer wisely pointed out, it was necessary that the characters of all those implicated in the affair should be cleared once and for all. This could only be done by the truth being made public. And this course of procedure greatly recommended itself to Rupert, who was tired of underhand doings. He was of a frank nature, and the idea of hiding this and concealing that, annoyed him exceedingly. He therefore made a clean breast of the matter when called upon to give evidence regarding Carrington's death, and insisted that everyone else should do the same. Consequently, the whole amazing story appeared in print, and read like a romance.

Mallien was inclined to hold back from giving evidence, as, of course, he should have communicated with the police the moment he became cognizant that a murder had been committed. But both his cousin and Lawson insisted that he should come forward to state what he knew, and, notwithstanding his reluctance, he was compelled to do so. He escaped better than he deserved, as it was seen how difficult his position had been, and the majority of people argued that the man could scarcely have been expected to incriminate himself by drawing attention to the crime at the time when he discovered it. Mrs. Beatson also contrived to elude reproof, as she cleverly stated that, when in possession of the will, she had intended to hand it over to the Squire. Of course, Rupert knew that she had never meant to do this, but for the sake of Kit he did not contradict her statement. And, because of Dorinda's feelings, he was glad to think that Mallien had got off so lightly. The two plotters themselves were much relieved that their characters had not suffered to an appreciable extent, and retired into the grateful shade of obscurity as speedily as possible. Things had turned out better than they had expected.

Carrington's conduct, of course, was condemned, since he had behaved so basely, but not so severely as it would have been had he been alive. Having met with a violent death, it was felt that he had paid for his trickery, and as little as possible was said about him. Kit, of course, was exonerated with regard to the accident, as Lawson proved that the young man had sounded his horn when turning into the park. But Carrington, anxious only to escape before the Inspector could take him in charge, had either not heard the warning of the horn, or had not attended to it. But be this as it may, there was no doubt that he had ran on blindly and thus had fallen under the cruel wheels of the car. Remembering Carrington's two premonitions about walking over his grave in the avenue, Rupert thought it quite uncanny that he should have met his fate on the very spot. But he only remarked on the matter to Dorinda, who was wise enough to hold her tongue. Enough had been said about Carrington and his disreputable doings in the newspapers, so there was no need to say more.

Mr. Leigh did not appear at the inquest, as he lay dying in a comfortable bed under the hospitable roof of The Big House. But he signed a written statement detailing the events of the night when he had been struck down, and this satisfied both Coroner and jury. After all procurable evidence had been sifted a verdict of "Death by Misadventure" was brought in, and the matter ended in the only way it could end. Carrington's sole relative, a clerk in the War Office, came down to take charge of the body, but expressed little surprise at the smirched reputation of the dead man. Carrington had always been a black sheep, and his relative grimly said to Rupert that he was glad things had turned out as they had. Carrington, he observed, would sooner or later have come to prison or the gallows had he lived, being one of those unfortunate creatures who could not run straight. So that was the end of the Squire's old school-friend, who had chosen evil instead of good; and bad as he had been Hendle was kind-hearted enough to regret the man's miserable end. Afterward, he always tried to remember Carrington as he had been at Rugby, rather than as the despicable plotter of his more mature years.

With the departure of the barrister's body in charge of his relative from Barship departed all mystery. It is now known who had struck down the vicar, and why the blow had been delivered. That Leigh had escaped death was not Carrington's fault, and the dead man was practically a murderer. But the villagers, in the excitement of finding their vicar alive, began to overlook Carrington's share in the matter. The question most frequently asked was whether Leigh would resume his charge of the parish seeing that his successor had been appointed. But all talk on this point was ended when it became known that the shocks inflicted on the unfortunate man, both by being struck down and by being buried alive had so shaken his system that he was not likely to live. Tollart was attending to him, and did so in an entirely sober state, as his narrow escape from trouble kept him away from the drink. Sophy, indeed, regarded the whole matter as a blessing in disguise, and hoped that her father would reform. He had every reason to do so seeing what a lesson he had received. With regard to his giving a certificate of death, Tollart's fellow-physicians held that he was perfectly justified, since the vicar had been in a cataleptic trance. But the villagers, headed by Titus, held that Dr. Tollart had been drunk at the time when he examined the body, and this opinion was not favorable to Tollart's reputation. However, when it was seen that he had turned over a new leaf, his conduct was considered more kindly and the doctor began to hope that he would weather the storm. But it had very nearly wrecked him, and the escape he had had greatly improved his character. In time by acting judiciously and keeping strictly sober, he managed to reëstablish his position.

A week later, when everything in connection with the catastrophe was quite settled, Mallien made his appearance at The Big House. He was more subdued than usual, as he also had learned a lesson, but there remained something of his old blustering manner when he entered the library and produced John Hendle's will from his pocket. Rupert guessed that his cousin had come to demand a settlement, and braced himself to face a disagreeable future. It was not pleasant to become a pauper, but there seemed to be nothing for it but to accept the inevitable. Yet it was not so much the loss of the money which the young man regretted as the probable loss of Dorinda as his wife. Rupert knew his cousin well enough to be sure that once in the possession of the estates and income he would not be inclined to permit the marriage to take place. And seeing that he was likely to be poor, it was useless for the girl to insist upon the fulfilment of the engagement. It was with a sad face and a weary heart that Hendle asked Mallien to take a seat.

"I suppose you have called to discuss matters regarding the will," he said, leaning his head on his hand and speaking quietly.

"In a way, though I don't see that there is anything to discuss," retorted Mallien, who was rapidly regaining his former bullying ways. "All you have to do is to clear out and allow me to come here."