"I did meet that man you name, but I can't understand how you came to know it so soon," Ralph said. "A tiger, if I ever saw one, Slight. And he let me know pretty clearly that he had more than a passing claim to a deal that other people are enjoying. Is Mr. Vincent Dashwood pretty well known to people here, Slight?"
"Not to anybody but her ladyship and myself," Slight replied. "Mind you, I can't make out whether he's an impostor or not; at least, I was very uncertain in my mind until you came along, sir. He claims to be the son of the late Ralph Dashwood and he has proofs that would satisfy any court in England; and anyone except me. As yet he can't produce the certificate of marriage of his mother and father. But he has any number of private papers,--letters from her ladyship to her son and all the rest of it, to say nothing of being familiar with the place. He didn't want to make a fuss about his claim; he wanted to have it quite plain first. He's been here for a long time."
"Blackmailing Lady Dashwood, I suppose? The fellow is too cowardly to claim the property out and out. In that case he would either have to substantiate his claim or run the risk of a long term of imprisonment if he failed. And, meanwhile, Lady Dashwood displays a weakness that is almost criminal. She half doubts this rascal, and yet at the same time she allows him to take the proceeds of the disposal of the family jewels. Half of the weakness is dictated by the dread of Miss Mary finding out the truth. If there are other reasons----"
"Ay, there are other reasons, Mr. Ralph," Slight said in a broken voice. "If you only knew everything, you would pity her ladyship. She has kept this secret as well as she has kept the rest. Miss Mary knows nothing; she was meant to know nothing."
"And now she will know everything, everybody will know everything. The story of the matchbox will have to be told, and the owner will have to explain how it came here and who he is. You should have known better, Slight, than try to keep a secret like this. Sooner or later the explosion was bound to come. What are you going to do about it now?"
"I'm not going to do anything, sir," Slight said bluntly. "It is not for me in my position to push myself forward. Let the police hunt the matter up for themselves. If Mr. Vincent Dashwood likes to lie low it makes no difference to us."
Ralph smiled at the suggestion. It was so like the policy of the house to leave things to chance like this. In a vague way, Ralph began to see that Fate was playing into his hands. He would let the rod fall. He would be cruel to be kind. As to the rest, it was in Mary's hands; all would depend upon how she behaved for the next day or two. It all stood out clearly in Ralph's mind now like the thread of a connected story.
"I'll go as far as the dower house," he said thoughtfully. "I should like to say a few words to Mr. Vincent Dashwood. Am I likely to find him there?"
"You are that, Mr. Ralph," Slight snapped. "When he isn't spending the money that does not belong to him, he is generally to be found not far from her ladyship. And this game has been going on for the last two years. I'm an old man, and hope I know my position in the place to which God has called me, but I've come very near to shooting that man more than once. Calls himself a Dashwood, and he has all the papers to prove himself a Dashwood, and yet he is no more a chip off the old block than I am. And yet you can't trip him up in anything, only in one way."
"And what is that?" Ralph smiled.