He sat for a moment in silence, his eyes fixed on the closely written sheets before him. When he spoke, his voice was as coldly dispassionate as though he were telling a story in which he was in no way concerned.
“As you have no doubt guessed,” he began, “the whole thing dates from the year of my visit to Paris. How you got onto that, I don’t know. You will remember that Gerald Lee and three other men were killed by a shell in the first year of the war. Identification was impossible, but his disk was found close to the spot and it was taken for granted that he was one of the victims.
“The first intimation I had that he was alive came from Mrs. Draycott, almost a year after my marriage to Sybil. She wrote from Paris, enclosing a copy of the snapshot you showed me this morning. It appeared that she had been staying with friends in Germany and, so far as I could make out, had had an affair with a doctor out there. It was like her, with her morbid love of sensation, to persuade him to take her over the local lunatic asylum. She had known Gerald Lee slightly in the days before the war and she recognized him at once and, with characteristic acumen, realized that she might make use of the discovery to her own advantage.
“I found out afterwards that he had been picked up unconscious by the Germans, badly wounded in the head, and that he had been passed from one hospital to another, never once recovering his sanity, until he eventually drifted to the municipal asylum at Schleefeldt. By that time he was in civilian clothes and all efforts to identify him had been in vain. All the authorities could find out about him was that he was an Englishman. They were much interested when Mrs. Draycott recognized him and did all they could to help her, one of the doctor’s taking a snapshot of him for her to send to England.
“On receipt of her letter, I went at once to Paris and we had several interviews. I need hardly say that I had to offer to buy her silence, but I went to Schleefeldt myself and satisfied myself that she was speaking the truth before paying her the money she demanded. I also ascertained from the doctor in charge of the asylum that not only was Lee incapable of recognizing any one, but that he was considered absolutely incurable. Apparently there was some pressure on the brain which could not be removed. I may say that this diagnosis was confirmed after his arrival in England by three of our own brain specialists. So that, however much at fault I may have been, I have robbed Lee of nothing. There, at least, my conscience is clear. I confess that, taking into account Sybil’s state of health, I do not see how I could have acted otherwise.”
He unlocked a drawer at his elbow and, taking out a bundle of cancelled cheques, tossed them onto the table.
“That is what I found I had let myself in for,” he went on bitterly. “For Sybil’s sake, I did not dare appear in the matter, and, going on the principle that the fewer people involved, the better, I left the whole affair in Mrs. Draycott’s hands, and I must say she proved both practical and efficient. Pretending to recognize him as a relation of her own, she had him brought to England and, in the capacity of her legal adviser, I was able to visit him and see to his installation in the best private asylum I could hear of. And then the game began. Mrs. Draycott had only to threaten to go with the story to Sybil and she had me absolutely at her mercy.”
He picked up the packet of cheques and balanced it in his hand.
“Every one of these is made out to ‘self,’ ” he said. “I was absolutely helpless and she was too clever to accept anything but cash. For six years I have been trying to trap her, in vain. And then, last January, I succeeded. Until then she had steadfastly refused to accept a cheque or give a receipt for anything I paid her. All the payments were in notes and I had no evidence that she had ever attempted to blackmail me.
“Then, last January, I caught her. She was at Nice and had been gambling heavily at Monte Carlo. When she wrote to me she was desperate and in such a hurry for the money that she accepted the cheque I sent her. As soon as I ascertained that she had cashed it I knew that I had a hold over her at last. On her return I went to see her and offered her a lump sum down, on condition that she did not molest me again, pointing out that, if she went to Sybil, I was prepared to take the matter into the courts and, on the evidence of the Nice cheque, she would not stand the ghost of a chance if she were sued for blackmail. She had begun to realize that Sybil might die and that I might then prefer exposure to the constant drain on my purse. Anyhow, she gave in, but for nearly a month she haggled over the terms and in the end agreed to accept seven thousand pounds down.