Gordon Craig Part 2

"The administrators," he went on, as though uninterrupted, and repeating a set speech, "endeavored to locate young Henley, but failed.

Then Mr. Neale was sent here to make a personal search. He came to me for aid, and legal advice. Finally we found the flat where the young couple had lived. It was deserted, and we learned from neighbors that they had quarreled, and the wife left him. We have been unable to discover her whereabouts. She did not return to, or communicate with, her own people in the West, or with any former friends in this city.

She simply disappeared, and we have some reason to believe committed suicide. The body of a young woman, fitting her general description, was taken from the river, and buried without identification."

"And young Henley?" I asked, as he paused.

"Henley," he continued gravely, "was at last located, under an a.s.sumed name, as a prisoner in the Indiana penitentiary at Michigan City, serving a sentence of fourteen years for forgery. He positively refuses to identify himself as Philip Henley, and all our efforts to gain him a pardon have failed."

"But what have I to do with all this?" I questioned, beginning to have a faint glimmer of the truth.

"Wait, and I will explain fully. Don't interrupt until I am done.

Here was a peculiar situation. The administrators are all old personal friends of the testator, anxious to have the estate retained in the family. How could this be accomplished? Neale laid the case before me. I can see but one feasible method--illegal, to be sure, and yet justifiable under the circ.u.mstances. Someone must impersonate Philip Henley long enough to permit the settlement of the estate."

I rose to my feet indignantly.

"And you thought I would consent? would be a party to this fraud?"

"Now, wait, Craig," as calmly as ever. "This is nothing to be ashamed of, nor, so far as I can see, as a lawyer, does it involve danger. It will make a man of Henley, reunite him with his wife if she still lives, and give him standing in the world. Scattered about among charities the Lord knows who it would benefit--a lot of beggars likely.

We are merely helping the boy to retain what is rightfully his. Don't throw this chance away, hastily--ten thousand dollars is pretty good pay for a couple of months' work."

I sank back into my chair undecided, yet caught by the glitter of the promise. Why not? Surely, it would do no harm, and, if the administrators were satisfied, what cause had I to object. They were responsible, and, if they thought this the best course, I might just as well take my profit. If not they would find someone else who would.

"But--but can that be done?" I asked hesitatingly.

Vail smiled, confident of my yielding.

"Easily," he a.s.sured. "Young Henley has been away five years; even before that he was absent at school so much as to be practically unknown except to the older servants. These have all been discharged, and scattered. The wife is entirely unknown there. Anyone, bearing ever so slight a resemblance, would pa.s.s muster. All you need do is read the father's letters over, post yourself on a few details and take possession. We will attend to all legal matters."

"Then you consider that I resemble Henley?"

"No," coolly, "not in any remarkable manner, but sufficient for our purpose--age, size, general appearance answers very well; nose, eyes and hair are alike, and general contour of the face is similar. There is not likely to be any close scrutiny. Here is young Henley's photograph."

He picked it up from among the papers, and handed it over to me. There was a resemblance, recognizable now that my attention had been called to it, certain features being remarkably similar, although the face in the picture wore a hard, dissipated look utterly at variance with my own. I glanced at the endors.e.m.e.nt on the back.

"He was going to send this photograph to his father."

"Yes, but never did. Apparently there is no flaw in our plan."

CHAPTER III

I ACCEPT THE OFFER

I do not know how others might have looked upon such a proposition as this, but it never occurred to me at the time to doubt the honesty of Vail's statement, nor could I perceive any great wrong in the action so calmly proposed. This was Philip Henley's property; his father undoubtedly intended he should inherit it, and the poor devil was utterly unable to comply with the terms of the will. The very fact that he possessed sufficient pride to part with the inheritance rather than openly reveal his disgrace, appealed strongly. That sort of fellow must have a strain of manhood in him. If I could serve him, save the property for him, at almost no danger to myself, and make a tidy sum of money doing it, why shouldn't I consent? I saw no reason for refusal. To be sure the method was not lawful, yet was advised by a lawyer, and agreed to by the administrators. Besides, the keeping of a few promiscuous charities out of such a gift did not seem especially wrong--I knew nothing, cared nothing for their loss. They were but names of no significance. Vail, watching the expression of my face in the light, seemed to divine my thoughts.

"Evidently you are recovering your good sense," he remarked easily.

"There is no use acting like a fool in a matter of this kind. You are lucky to fall into such a chance. You 'll act, I take it?"

"Yes," the word was out almost before I was aware of speaking.

"Sensible decision, my man," his face lighting up. "Now there is no need of our meeting again, or being seen together. The more quiet we can keep our plans, the better it will be for all concerned. Neale, hand Craig your copy of the articles of administration, and of the will."

I took these and read them over carefully, yet without fully comprehending the legal phraseology. They were apparently genuine, and I gathered from them that the facts were exactly as stated. Peter B.

Neale, of Birmingham, was named one of the administrators. The two men watched me read, and when I laid the papers down Vail was ready with others.

"Here is a small packet of letters from Judge Henley to his son," he said, in a business-like way, "which you had better read, and so familiarize yourself with local names, and conditions. I have also drawn up, and had typed, a brief sketch of young Henley's life, which will aid you in playing the part. You will need a new outfit of clothes, I presume?"

"This is my best suit."

"I thought it probable. Now, if you will sign this paper, I will hand you a liberal advance."

I read it over slowly, but it appeared innocent enough. Of course they would require some guarantee that my work would be performed. Yet certain questions arose to my mind.

[Ill.u.s.tration: I read it over slowly, but it appeared innocent enough.]

"As soon as the property is legally in my possession I am to deed it over to you?"

"Certainly; I represent the administrators, and the rightful heir."

"That will involve forgery on my part."

He waved his hand, as though brus.h.i.+ng away an insect.

"Technically, yes; but under legal advice, my dear boy, and agreement of the officials interested in proper settlement of the estate. There is no danger whatever."

I was not a.s.sured as to this, and yet the man's easy manner, and smooth speech, served to ease my conscience.

"And the ten thousand dollars?" I asked.

"A thousand will be handed you tonight; the remainder may be retained at the final settlement, together with the compensation of the woman.

You make your own terms with her; so you see you cannot lose. Sign here."

"I had forgotten the woman. Is she necessary?"

"It will be better to have one, as they know down there young Henley was lately married. Any good-looker, with an easy conscience, will do.

You could coach her on the train."

"But I don't know a young woman in town," I admitted soberly, "except my landlady's daughter, and she 's the limit."

Vail and Neale both laughed.

"You 're slow, Craig," the former said good-humoredly. "I thought better of you than that. However, you will have all day tomorrow. Get on your new clothes, and look around. There 's plenty would jump at the chance."

I shook my head.

"That's altogether out of my line," I averred. "I 'd rather go alone."

"Well, we 'll not war over that. You can leave your wife North if you wish. I tell you what you do. Think it over, and call me up by 'phone about three o'clock tomorrow--here's the number. If you decide on taking a woman along I know one who will answer, and will have her at the train."