Part 12 (2/2)
I looked puzzled, and my companion smiled.
”I'll tell you how it is, if it won't bore you,” said he.
”On the contrary, I should be exceedingly interested.”
”I think, after your kind attention to me, I cannot do less than relieve any curiosity that you may feel. You must know that my father was Stanislaus Stanniford, the banker.”
Stanniford, the banker! I remembered the name at once. His flight from the country some seven years before had been one of the scandals and sensations of the time.
”I see that you remember,” said my companion. ”My poor father left the country to avoid numerous friends, whose savings he had invested in an unsuccessful speculation. He was a nervous, sensitive man, and the responsibility quite upset his reason. He had committed no legal offence. It was purely a matter of sentiment. He would not even face his own family, and he died among strangers without ever letting us know where he was.”
”He died!” said I.
”We could not prove his death, but we know that it must be so, because the speculations came right again, and so there was no reason why he should not look any man in the face. He would have returned if he were alive. But he must have died in the last two years.”
”Why in the last two years?”
”Because we heard from him two years ago.”
”Did he not tell you then where he was living?”
”The letter came from Paris, but no address was given. It was when my poor mother died. He wrote to me then, with some instructions and some advice, and I have never heard from him since.”
”Had you heard before?”
”Oh, yes, we had heard before, and that's where our mystery of the sealed door, upon which you stumbled to-night, has its origin. Pa.s.s me that desk, if you please. Here I have my father's letters, and you are the first man except Mr. Perceval who has seen them.”
”Who is Mr. Perceval, may I ask?”
”He was my father's confidential clerk, and he has continued to be the friend and adviser of my mother and then of myself. I don't know what we should have done without Perceval. He saw the letters, but no one else.
This is the first one, which came on the very day when my father fled, seven years ago. Read it to yourself.”
This is the letter which I read:
”MY EVER DEAREST WIFE,--
”Since Sir William told me how weak your heart is, and how harmful any shock might be, I have never talked about my business affairs to you. The time has come when at all risks I can no longer refrain from telling you that things have been going badly with me. This will cause me to leave you for a little time, but it is with the absolute a.s.surance that we shall see each other very soon. On this you can thoroughly rely. Our parting is only for a very short time, my own darling, so don't let it fret you, and above all don't let it impair your health, for that is what I want above all things to avoid.
”Now, I have a request to make, and I implore you by all that binds us together to fulfil it exactly as I tell you. There are some things which I do not wish to be seen by any one in my dark room--the room which I use for photographic purposes at the end of the garden pa.s.sage. To prevent any painful thoughts, I may a.s.sure you once for all, dear, that it is nothing of which I need be ashamed. But still I do not wish you or Felix to enter that room. It is locked, and I implore you when you receive this to at once place a seal over the lock, and leave it so. Do not sell or let the house, for in either case my secret will be discovered. As long as you or Felix are in the house, I know that you will comply with my wishes. When Felix is twenty-one he may enter the room--not before.
”And now, good-bye, my own best of wives. During our short separation you can consult Mr. Perceval on any matters which may arise. He has my complete confidence. I hate to leave Felix and you--even for a time--but there is really no choice.
”Ever and always your loving husband,
”STANISLAUS STANNIFORD.
”_June 4th, 1887._”
<script>