“I need not go into the reasons for my leaving England. Allery here, I know, thought I had done something criminal—in fact, forged my father’s name. But I think I have convinced him that it was only a youthful outbreak, which I sincerely regret.” Allery nodded, gravely.
“I wandered about in the South American States. I found I could not settle down to any definite occupation, and after a time I got mixed up with a pretty little revolution. Partly through pride, and partly because I was not carrying out the conditions my father imposed, I stopped communicating with the lawyer at Monte Video, and then I was in prison, and nearly executed for my part in the revolution which failed. When I got out, I had had enough of plots, and was only released on my agreeing to leave the country. I knew a man who was a merchant, and he gave me a job to come to England in charge of some freight for his firm which required some one to travel with it, largely bullion. It was a responsible job, though an easy one, and with a strong letter of recommendation from the firm I got a position in the London office, where my knowledge of the other end was useful. I had intended to go to the old man, and tell him the whole thing, but it savoured too much of the prodigal son, and I delayed doing so. I soon got sick of the office work, and as I had always had a taste for detective stories, I got the idea that I would try and get into Scotland Yard. My father was not then Home Secretary, or I would not have risked a chance meeting. As Sinclair here knows I got in as a clerk on the recommendation of my good merchants. Only the head of the firm knew where I had come from, and he died soon after, so my past was hidden.
“I believe I discharged my duties satisfactorily, and was promoted to be right-hand man to Superintendent Sinclair. I might even have become an Inspector in time.
“All this time I had held no communication with my father or sister, though I couldn’t resist the temptation of coming down here and looking at the old place, and saw them both without being seen. This was only three weeks before the death of my father.” He paused and steadied his voice. “It got on my nerves and I had almost made up my mind to come and tell him the whole story. On the very day of the terrible occurrence, I had made up my mind to go to him, and as you know now, I had spoken aloud on the subject. I went out with the intention of doing so, but wandered round in a state of uncertainty, and then returned. Would to God I had gone!”
“Wait a moment,” said Sinclair. “Then you were not the man who called on Sir James on that afternoon?”
“No; I never saw him again,” he answered sadly.
“You can imagine the awful shock I had when you sent for me and told me of the telephone message, although I hoped it was, as you thought, a hoax. When you asked me to go into the house, I was so upset I felt I could not do so, and made an excuse. I wandered out in a terrible state of anxiety till the evening papers came out with an account of the affair. I didn’t know what to do, but I felt I must get in touch with Mabel and declare myself. I was really half off my head, and so I settled up at my old lodgings and left London. I did not go back to the office, as already I had the idea of disappearing as Lewis and coming back as myself. I suppose it was pride. I thought somehow it would not look very well that I had been a clerk in Scotland Yard. Then next morning the papers came out, and I saw to my horror that I was ‘wanted’ in connection with the crime. You can imagine my feelings. I could see the frightful construction that would be placed on my actions—the most awful accusation that can be brought against any man.
“It was dreadful. Of course I knew I could clear myself, but there would be that nasty suspicion which always hangs round a man who has been accused and that damnable saying ‘there is no smoke without a fire.’ I had arrived the night before, and not wishing to go to the house at once, I had spent the night in the old tower near the chapel, where I used to go birds-nesting when I was a youngster. I came on here in the early hours of the morning, and roused Mabel up. She came down and let me in, and we had a very long talk. We could not decide what to do. It seemed difficult for me to get out of the country, and equally difficult to stay.
“Mabel had to go up to the inquest, and there was no one to advise us. So we decided to take Allery into our confidence. He came down here and we told him the whole story.”
All eyes were turned on the old lawyer.