Part 13 (1/2)

”Oh, nothing!” replied Mrs. Summers. ”He occupied himself, as I tell you, while he was here, and finally he went away in the car in which he had come, saying that he had greatly enjoyed his stay, and that we should see him again sometime. No--he never said anything about himself, that is.

But he asked me several questions; I used to talk to him sometimes, of an evening, about the present Lord Ellingham.”

”What sort of questions?” inquired Mr. Pawle.

”Oh--as to what sort of young man he was, and if he was a good landlord and so on,” replied Mrs. Summers. ”And I purposely told him about the disappearance of thirty-five years ago, just to see what he would say about it.”

”Ah! And what did he say?” asked Mr. Pawle.

”Nothing--except that it was extraordinary how people could disappear in this world,” said Mrs. Summers. ”Whether he was interested or not, he didn't show it.”

”Probably felt that he knew more about it than you did,” chuckled the old solicitor. ”Well, ma'am, we're much obliged to you. Now take my advice and keep to your very excellent plan of saying nothing. Tomorrow morning we will just have a look into certain things, and see if we can discover anything really pertinent, and you shall know what conclusion we come to.

Viner!” Pawle went on, when the old landlady had left them alone, ”what do you think of this extraordinary story? Upon my word, I think it quite possible that the old lady's theory might be right, and that Ashton may really have been the missing Lord Marketstoke!”

”You think it probable that a man who was heir to an English earldom and to considerable estates could disappear like that, for so many years, and then reappear?” asked Viner.

”I won't discuss the probability,” answered Mr. Pawle, ”but that it's possible I should steadily affirm. I've known several very extraordinary cases of disappearance. In this particular instance--granting things to be as Mrs. Summers suggests--see how easy the whole thing is. This young man disappears. He goes to a far-off colony under an a.s.sumed name.

n.o.body knows him. It is ten thousand to one against his being recognized by visitors from home. All the advertising in the world will fail to reveal his ident.i.ty. The only person who knows who he is is himself. And if he refuses to speak--there you are!”

”What surprises me,” remarked Viner, ”is that a man who evidently lived a new life for thirty-five years and prospered most successfully in it, should want to return to the old one.”

”Ah, but you never know!” said the old lawyer. ”Family feeling, old a.s.sociations, loss of the old place--eh? As men get older, their thoughts turn fondly to the scenes and memories of their youth, Viner. If Ashton was really the Lord Marketstoke who disappeared, he may have come down here with no other thought than that of just revisiting his old home for sentimental reasons. He may not have had the slightest intention, for instance, of setting up a claim to the t.i.tle and estates.”

”I don't understand much about the legal aspect of this,” said Viner, ”but I've been wondering about it while you and the landlady talked.

Supposing Ashton to be the long-lost Lord Marketstoke--could he have established a claim such as you speak of?”

”To be sure!” answered Mr. Pawle. ”Had he been able to prove that he was the real Simon pure, he would have stepped into t.i.tle and estates at once. Didn't the old lady say that the seventh Earl died intestate? Very well--the holders since his time, that is to say, Charles, who, his brother's death being presumed, became eighth Earl, and his son, the present holder, would have had to account for everything since the day of the seventh Earl's death. When the seventh Earl died, his elder son, Lord Marketstoke, _ipso facto_, stepped into his shoes, and if he were, or is, still alive, he's in them still. All he had to do, at any moment, after his father's death, no matter who had come into t.i.tle and estates, was to step forward and say: 'Here I am!--now I want my rights!'”

”A queer business altogether!” commented Viner. ”But whoever Ashton was, he's dead. And the thing that concerns me is this: if he really was Earl of Ellingham, do you think that fact's got anything to do with his murder?”

”That's just what we want to find out,” answered Mr. Pawle eagerly. ”It's quite conceivable that he may have been murdered by somebody who had a particular interest in keeping him out of his rights. Such things have been known. I want to go into all that. But now here's another matter. If Ashton really was the missing Lord Marketstoke, who is this girl whom he put forward as his ward, to whom he's left his considerable fortune, and about whom n.o.body knows anything? I've already told you there isn't a single paper or doc.u.ment about her that I can discover. Was he really her guardian?”

”Has this anything to do with it?” asked Viner. ”Does it come into things?”

Mr. Pawle did not answer for a moment; he appeared to have struck a new vein of thought and to be exploring it deeply.

”In certain events, it would come into it pretty strongly!” he muttered at last. ”I'll tell you why, later on. Now I'm for bed--and first thing after breakfast, in the morning, Viner, we'll go to work.”

Viner had little idea of what the old solicitor meant as regards going to work; it seemed to him that for all practical purposes they were already in a maze out of which there seemed no easy way. And he was not at all sure of what they were doing when, breakfast being over next morning, Mr.

Pawle conducted him across the square to the old four-square churchyard, and for half an hour walked him up one path and down another and in and around the ancient yew-trees and gravestones.

”Do you know what I've been looking for, Viner?” asked Mr. Pawle at last as he turned towards the church porch. ”I was looking for something, you know.”

”Not the faintest notion!” answered Viner dismally. ”I wondered!”

”I was looking,” replied Mr. Pawle with a faint chuckle, ”to see if I could find any tombstones or monuments in this churchyard bearing the name Ashton. There isn't one! I take it from that significant fact that Ashton didn't come down here to visit the graves of his kindred. But now come into the church--Mrs. Summers told me this morning that there's a chapel here in which the Cave-Gray family have been interred for two or three centuries. Let's have a look at it.”

Viner, who had a dilettante love of ancient architecture, was immediately lost in admiration of the fine old structure into which he and his companion presently stepped. He stood staring at the high rood, the fine old rood screen, the beauty of the cl.u.s.tered columns--had he been alone, and on any other occasion, he would have spent the morning in wandering around nave and aisles and transepts. But Mr. Pawle, severely practical, at once made for the northeast chapel; and Viner, after another glance round, was forced to follow him.

”The Ellingham Chapel!” whispered the old solicitor as they pa.s.sed a fine old stone screen which Viner mentally registered as fifteenth-century.