“I quite understand. And you are positive that, although she knew about the blackmailing and the disposal of your jewellery and the fraud of Archie Brookes, she was ignorant of the robberies?”
“Quite positive. They were very particular about that. I think they were a bit afraid of what she might do, if she had an inkling. She is a strong-minded woman in many respects, and she might have determined to go to Mr. Morrice and tell him the whole truth to save me from becoming an actual criminal.”
There was nothing more to be said. The confession was signed. Lane, punctilious in everything he did, gave her a copy and left the flat. Shortly before dinner-time he went to Deanery Street to communicate the result of his interview to the financier. He found him and Rosabelle together, and was invited to speak before them both, Morrice having no desire to keep anything from his pretty niece in a matter in which her interest was as keen as his own.
Of course, both had guessed that the pseudo Archie Brookes was, in all probability, Mrs. Morrice’s son, and that there was some shameful secret connected with the relationship. But they were not prepared for the terrible disclosures now made by Lane. It was a great blow to the proud man to learn that the woman who had borne his name and done the honours of his house with such a calm and gracious dignity, was the widow of a convicted felon, that she had involved him in her disgraceful past.
He turned sternly to his niece. “From this day, never let her name be mentioned between us. Let us think of her as one dead to us.”
Presently Lane spoke. “This winds up the mystery so far as I am concerned, Mr. Morrice. I shall pay a formal visit to Mr. Croxton and acquaint him with these results; he must, of course, be made aware of them.”
Morrice nodded. “Of course. I have no wish to hide my disgrace from him.”
“Your reflected disgrace,” said the detective gently. “Well, there is a little thing I wish to mention. I am not at all sure that this scoundrel of a baronet has not got some of those French francs left. They would be awkward things to get rid of in bulk. Depend upon it he is peddling them out as occasion offers. If you would give me the necessary authority to act, I do not think it impossible for me to frighten out of him what he has got left, if any, with the threat of criminal proceedings. Of course we know you will not take these, for obvious reasons, but he cannot be sure.”
“No,” said Morrice, “I shall certainly not take proceedings. I have no desire to wash my dirty linen in public, to show how I have been made a dupe and a fool. There will be plenty of conjecture as it is; let it stop at that. But if you feel keen about this, you have my full permission to do what you think advisable.”
Pretty early the next morning, Lane made his way to Sir George’s flat. He chuckled inwardly as he recalled that memorable evening when he and Simmons the valet had been surprised there by the so-called Archie Brookes. He remembered how he had been puzzled by the smallness of the baronet’s banking account and the somewhat contradictory statements made by Simmons with regard to his actual financial position. Of course, now it was all quite clear. That banking account was a blind, Sir George had other depositories in which he placed the moneys he made by his nefarious schemes.