CHAPTER XXX
In the circumstances, Derrick was not uncomfortably lodged. The lock-upwas an ancient, knock-down affair, and the Inspector had arranged thatDerrick should occupy one of the rooms in the adjoining police-station.Here, Mr. Jacobs and Mr. Clendon found him, if not altogether resignedto the situation, at any rate not cast down or despondent.
"Well, here we are," said Mr. Jacobs, cheerfully. "I hope they've madeyou as comfortable as possible, Mr.--Green. I've brought a friend ofyours with me, and I have a message from another friend of yours, MissGrant. She says she will pay you a visit whenever you like to see her."
Derrick shook his head. "I don't want her to come here," he said. "ButI'm very glad to see Mr. Clendon."
"By the way," cut in Mr. Jacobs, "I ought to introduce this gentleman byhis right name, or, rather, title. You will be very much surprised tohear, Mr. Green, that Mr. Clendon is the Marquess of Sutcombe. It's along story, but, with your permission, I will put it into a sentence.His lordship is the elder brother, who was thought to be dead, but hasturned up--if his lordship will allow me the phrase."
"It is true," said Mr. Clendon, as we must still call him; and he madethe admission with an air of resignation and a gesture of regret. "Butwe have come to talk of your affairs."
"Quite so, my lord," said Mr. Jacobs. "Now, Mr. Sydney Green--or shall Icall you, Mr. Derrick Dene?"
Mr. Clendon started slightly and bent his piercing eyes on Derrick, whocoloured and bit his lip.
"Yes, that's my name," he said; "but I don't know how you know it."
"My dear Mr. Dene," said Mr. Jacobs, blandly, "we people in ScotlandYard know a great many things. Just as an instance, let me tell you whatI know about you. You were placed at an early age in the care of aworthy couple named Jackson, who brought you up and started you in theprofession which I am sure you will adorn. Owing to a--well, let us say,a misunderstanding--you left England--er--somewhat abruptly, and wentwith a travelling circus to South America; in South America you left thecircus and found employment on a ranch, owned by a lady named DonnaElvira----"
Derrick, frowning, stared at him and did not notice that Mr. Clendon hadquietly sunk into a chair and, with his hands leaning on his stick, waslooking fixedly at Derrick.
"You want to know how we came to know all this?" said Mr. Jacobs,cheerfully. "Well, we had the little affair of the forged cheque placedin our hands, and were following it up when a Mr. Brown, the Sutcombefamily solicitor, stepped in and stopped us. You see, the bank refusedto prosecute and we couldn't move without it. But, in the course of ourinquiries into the business of the forged cheque, we naturally tracedyour antecedents, and it seemed to us--well, to put it shortly, thatyour history was so interesting it was worth following. I have all thenotes here." He tapped a little book he had taken from his pocket. "Youwill want to know why I brought it down with me, when I was engaged uponanother case and had little reason to expect that you would be arrestedon this charge?"
"The question was in my mind," said Derrick, gravely. "Perhaps you'llexplain."
"With pleasure," replied Mr. Jacobs, and his tone corroborated hiswords. "But perhaps this packet which we have, in the discharge of ourduty, taken from you, will explain better than I can."
He took the packet from his pocket and laid it on the table. As he didso, he glanced for the first time at the old man, who was sitting soquietly, so immovably.
"Will you allow me to open it--or perhaps we will ask his lordship to doso?"
Derrick looked from one to the other and bit his lip.
"That packet is a confidential one," he said; "but"--moved by an impulsehe could not understand--"I am willing that Mr. Clendon shall open it.It has passed out of my hands. I suppose I have no right to it," headded, rather bitterly.
"I made the proposition to save time," said Mr. Jacobs. "There is thepacket, your lordship."
With a glance at Derrick, the old man took it and broke the sealsslowly. There was no surprise on his face as he read the enclosures.Perhaps he had foreseen that which the packet contained. He read, inabsolute silence, the two men watching him; Mr. Jacobs with a cheerfulcountenance, Derrick with an anxious regard; then presently, Mr. Clendonlooked up. Now his face was working, his eyes were moist as he breathed,"My God!" and there was remorse, as well as a kind of solemn joy in thecry.
"You do not guess the truth contained in these papers?" he asked, in avery low voice, as his gaze met Derrick's.
"No, sir," said Derrick.
Mr. Clendon turned his eyes to Mr. Jacobs, but Derrick felt that the oldman was addressing him.
"The lady who writes this letter, Mr. Jacobs, the Donna Elvira of whomyou have spoken, is--my wife. We have been separated for years. Thecause? Nothing that can cast a shadow of dishonour on her. I waswandering in South America when I met her; we fell in love, were marriedin haste. I was then a headstrong, hot-tempered, unreasonable youth;she--well, she was Spanish, and with a temper and disposition thatmatched mine. After many quarrels, we parted in anger. I went my way, awild, desperate way; needless to tell you whither such a way leads.Wrecked in character and prospects, I decided to be quit of the world. Ihad thought of suicide--but God held my hand. Suffice it that Idisappeared, that I concocted a false report of my death, and so maderoom for my younger brother, Talbot, to take the place in the worldwhich I had rendered myself unfit to fill."
There was a pause, during which the old man strove for composure.Derrick began to tremble. He remembered Donna Elvira's strangetenderness to him, his strange tenderness towards her; and somethingvague and nebulous was growing out of the Marquess's words, a hope that,in its intensity, was more painful than joyous.
"I did not know," went on the Marquess in a lower voice, and withobvious difficulty, "that, when I left my wife, she was about to becomea mother. I did not know that a child was born to me--a son. If I hadknown--well, the whole course of my life would have been altered fromthat moment. I should have gone back to her, should have claimed mychild; perhaps it is because she knew that I should have done so thatshe concealed the fact from me. Be that as it may, I was kept inignorance until this moment; and even now, she does not tell me,but--her son."
He raised his eyes to Derrick with something in them that made Derrick'sheart leap, the tears spring to his eyes.
"Yes; you are my son," said Mr. Clendon, and he held out his hand.
Derrick, moving as if in a dream, took the thin hand and grasped it inboth of his.
"Oh, is it true?" was all he could say, huskily.
"It is quite true," said Mr. Clendon. "The certificates are enclosed;there is a minute account of the way in which your mother placed you inthe charge of these people; there are even periodical receipts for thesums she paid for your maintenance. As to your identity----"
"No doubts about that," murmured Mr. Jacobs, cheerfully. "Proved up tothe hilt. Marquess, I congratulate you--and you, too, Lord Heyton."
Now, indeed, Derrick started.
"Do you mean that I----?" he stammered, overwhelmed by the significanceof the title by which Mr. Jacobs had addressed him.
Mr. Jacobs nodded, as cheerfully as before. "Quite so," he said. "Yourfather being the Marquess of Sutcombe, you are, of course, Lord Heyton."
Derrick sank on to a chair, still holding his father's hand; and he wassilent for a moment or two; then he looked up.
"This charge?" he said, almost in a whisper. "You--both of you--knowthat I am innocent?"
Mr. Jacobs nodded, and the father's hand closed tightly on his son's.
"Then," said Derrick hoarsely, "who--who is guilty?"
"Ah!" said Mr. Jacobs, with a shake of the head, his eyes fixed on thecarpet. "Very difficult to say. I'm afraid it will turn out to be one ofthose undiscovered crimes with which the newspapers are always tauntingpoor Scotland Yard." He rose as he spoke, and reached for his hat. "NowI'll leave you two gentlemen together. By the way, Mr.--I beg yourpardon, Lord Heyton!--I'm afraid you'll have to remain here for anotherhour or two; there a
re certain formalities which must be endured. Forinstance"--he smiled--"I shall have to take you before a localmagistrate. Of course, we shall produce no evidence, throw any quantityof ashes on our heads, and apologize for the cruel mistake we have made;and the local magistrate, if he knows his business, will read me asevere lecture on my stupidity and set you free with an apology from allconcerned. Now I'll leave you. You two gentlemen must have a great dealto say to each other. And I beg you to believe"--he spoke with deepfeeling--"that I should not have intruded on this interview, if I hadnot considered my presence necessary."
He opened the door, but closed it again, holding the handle, and said,in a casual fashion,
"By the way, I am sorry to say that Lord Heyton--tut, tut!--thegentleman who was Lord Heyton--has been called away on importantbusiness. I am afraid he will be away some time; in fact, I have advisedhim to go on a long tour, when his business is finished. He requireschange of air, a _long_ change; in fact, I don't think England will eversuit him."
He spoke the last words over his shoulder and disappeared.
The father and son were engaged in a conversation that moved them bothdeeply; and a knock had been repeated on the door twice, before theyheard it and Derrick said, "Come in!"
A policeman stood on the threshold.
"A lady and gentleman to see you, sir."
"I can see no one," said Derrick, trying to keep his voice steady; buthis father made a gesture with his hand and Derrick nodded reluctantly.
There entered Lady Gridborough and Reggie Rex, who had obtainedpermission from Mr. Jacobs. Lady Gridborough was much agitated, and shewas going with outstretched hand, straight to Derrick, but stopped atsight of the old man who had risen from his chair.
"Oh, I came at once!" she said, tremulously. "I couldn't stay away. Oh,Derrick, I am so sorry, so sorry. I might have known that you couldn'tbe so bad, so wicked as they all said! Will you forgive me? Oh, do sayyou'll forgive me for so cruelly misjudging you."
Derrick took the fat hand and looked, with a grave smile of more thanforgiveness, at the good-natured, agitated face.
"Don't say any more, Lady Gridborough," he said. "It was my fault. Iought to have spoken--I see now what a fool I have been! My mistakensense of honour has caused all this trouble; and grieved you very much,I see, dear Lady Gridborough. But how did you learn the truth--I meandiscover that I had not wronged poor Susie?"
"It was Mr. Rex here," said Lady Gridborough, her face all smiles now."He's an extraordinary young man, and has succeeded in doing that atwhich we had all failed--opening Susie's lips. How he managed it, I donot know! Perhaps he can tell you."
Derrick had got hold of Reggie's hand by this time, and was regardinghim with a half-smiling interrogation; and Reggie was also smiling withthat air of omniscience and supreme acuteness which sat so curiously onhis boyish face.
"A future wife should have no secrets from her future husband, as youwill be the first to admit, dear Lady Gridborough."
"'Future husband!'" echoed Derrick, with a surprise that was onlymomentary.
"Yes," said Reggie, quietly. "I have won my angel. I don't deny that itwas difficult; but this last business of yours settled it. You see,Susie felt that, if she told the truth, and showed up the right man--or,rather, the wrong one; for, if there was ever a 'wrong un,' it is----;but we won't mention names--Susie knew that she would be doing Celia aservice; besides, Susie felt that she could face the world much moreeasily, if she had a great, hulking man beside her. And," he addedmodestly, "there were--ahem--other reasons."
"I am sure there were," said Derrick, warmly; and he wrung Reggie'shand. "I congratulate you--both."
"But how about this dreadful business of the robbery at the Hall?" saidLady Gridborough, suddenly growing pale.
"So far as my son is concerned, madam," said Mr. Clendon, in his gravevoice which had grown very gentle, "you will be glad to hear that it hasended satisfactorily; he has been proved innocent of the crime laid tohis charge."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Lady Gridborough, delightedly."But"--suddenly--"your son? You are his father? I didn't know--I thoughthis father was dead."
"So I was, madam; to the world; but I have returned from the grave tofind my son," said Mr. Clendon.
"Well, I am glad!" cried Lady Gridborough. "You must both come and staywith me. Now, you won't refuse, Mr. Dene, will you?" She looked at Mr.Clendon pleadingly, and then with confusion and embarrassment, as theyboth remained silent.
"My father's name is not 'Dene,'" said Derrick, who felt that theexplanation would have to come sooner or later. "He is Lord Sutcombe."
Reggie did not start; but, for the first time in his life, the young manlooked nonplussed and discomfited; he regarded the father and son with apuzzled stare, then, with an exclamation, he cried,
"Of course, the _elder_ brother! Then--then _you_, Green, are LordHeyton?" He smiled as if he himself had conferred the title of nobilityon Derrick. "Well, this knocks me out. No more detective novels for me!Realism is my line for the future. And yet, what a novel it would make!"
"You shall write it some day, Reggie," said Derrick, with a smile.
"Some day?" retorted Reggie. "I'm going to write it at once! Come away,Lady Gridborough! This is no place for us," he added tactfully, and,taking her hand, he led the bewildered old lady out of the room,nodding, with a smile of intense gratification, over his shoulder atDerrick.