The address supplied him was that of a firm of lawyers in Gray's Inn Square, in whose employ Kirby Griggs had been at the date of his interview with Mr. Matthew Thursby.
Fortunately for Everard's purpose, Griggs proved not only to be alive, but still in the service of the same firm--a third-rate clerk on a very limited salary. He was a thin, timid, nervous man, with an anxious, hungry sort of look, as though he rarely had as much to eat as he could have done with. When told the reason which had induced Everard to seek him out, he at once expressed his willingness to give him all the information that lay in his power; but as he was too busy to do so during office hours, he requested Everard to call upon him between seven and eight o'clock the same evening at an address in the suburbs which he gave him.
There Lisle found himself at half-past seven and was at once ushered3 into the clerk's little parlour, in which sacred apartment--hardly ever entered between one Sunday and another--a fire had this evening been lighted in honour of his visit.
There proved to be no reticence4 on Griggs' part in discussing in all its bearings that strange episode of twenty years before, in which his sister had played so inexplicable5 and, ultimately, so tragical6 a part.
It appeared that she had always been of a romantic and flighty turn of mind, and an insatiable devourer7 of impossible romances and outrageous8 love-stories of the very commonest type of penny fiction. She had gone out to the States as maid to a wealthy elderly lady who had died there shortly after her arrival. The next news from Martha had been to the effect that she was on the eve of returning to England by the clipper-ship Pandora, and her brother was requested to meet the vessel9 on its arrival in dock. Why she had booked herself under the fantastical name of Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane her brother could not imagine, unless it were a name she had picked up in the course of her reading, and had taken a fancy to. Just as little could he understand why, in the presumed state of her finances, she should have chosen to travel as a saloon passenger. As for whence and from whom his sister had obtained the child which she had passed off on board ship as her own, and what possible object she could have had in view in perpetrating such a hoax10--if hoax it could be called--was to Kirby Griggs still as much an enigma11 as it had been at the time; nothing had occurred in the interim12 to throw even the faintest ray of light on the affair.
Everard's heart sank within him. It was evident that the lawyer's clerk had nothing of consequence to relate beyond what was known to him already.
After musing13 awhile, he said: "I presume that nothing was found among your sister's luggage--no letters, or papers, or anything else which, if placed in the hands of anyone who was willing to devote both time and patience to following it up, might ultimately furnish a clue to the mystery we have just been discussing."
"There was nothing--nothing whatever found of the kind you mention," replied Griggs with a shake of the head. Then, after a pause, he gave a little deprecatory cough and added: "As I have no wish to hide anything in connection with the affair, it may perhaps be as well to mention that my sister's boxes contained a quantity of wearing apparel such as seemed, both to me and my wife, far above her station in life, and the only conclusion we could come to was, that it had most likely been a present to her from the lady who had died. After keeping it for three or four years in case any inquiry14 should be made about it, my wife gradually used it up in the manufacture of garments for our numerous olive branches."
Although Mrs. Griggs made a third at the interview, as yet she had not spoken more than a dozen words, but in the pause that now ensued she suddenly said: "The ring, Kirby--have you forgotten the ring? That might perhaps supply the gentleman with the clue he is looking for."
Griggs started, and his pale face took on an unwonted blush. "I had indeed forgotten the ring," he said, "but that it will in any way help to clear up the affair, I don't for one moment believe." Then turning to Everard, he added: "The ring to which my wife refers is a quite plain hoop16 of gold, in fact, just like a wedding-ring, except that it is about four times as massive. It was the only article of jewellery found among my sister's luggage, although she was said to have been wearing a gold watch and chain and several dress rings at the time she fell overboard. Unfortunately, about four years ago I was very much pressed for money and was compelled to put the ring in pledge, obtaining on it an advance of thirty shillings. I am sorry to say that I have never since been in a position to redeem17 it, but it has not been lost, because I have been careful to pay the interest as it fell due."
"As you say," replied Everard, "there is not much likelihood of a ring such as you describe this one as being helping18 me in any way to discover what I am in search of. Still, I should very much like to see and examine it, and if you will allow me to pay the cost of taking it out of pledge I shall be greatly obliged to you."
"Truth to tell, sir," answered Griggs with a shrug19, "I haven't money enough of my own to spare to enable me to do so. But in any case, nothing can be done in the matter till to-morrow."
So Everard left money for the redemption of the ring and went his way.
At half-past seven the next evening he was again at the house of Kirby Griggs. The ring had been redeemed20 in the interim. It was what the lawyer's clerk had described it as being, a plain massive hoop of gold, but on the inner side Lisle's keen eyes detected what seemed to him like a faint tracery of some kind, but apparently21 so worn that without the help of a magnifying glass it was impossible to make out what it was intended to represent. Griggs, who admitted that he had noticed the marks, but without attaching any value to them, volunteered to obtain the loan of a lens from a working watchmaker who lived close by, and accordingly did so. With the aid of the lens and the exercise of some patience, Everard was enabled to make out that what to the naked eye had looked like so many meaningless scratches was in reality an engraved22 inscription23 which ran thus: "J. A. C. to G. R. Pour tout24 temps."
Scarcely had he succeeded in deciphering the inscription before it flashed across him that the words, "Pour tout temps" formed the somewhat arrogant25 motto of the Clares of Withington Chase, as also that the letters J. A. C. were the initials of John Alexander Clare.
By the time he got away from the house, taking the ring with him, it was too late to think of going down to the Chase before next morning. So he wandered about some of the quieter streets till a late hour, turning over and over in his mind his discovery in connection with the ring, but nowhere finding an adequate solution of the singular problem which was thus put before him. From whichever point of view he looked at the matter, it still remained as much a tangle26 as at first. Out of a dozen questions which he asked himself, there was not one he could answer. He turned into his hotel a little before midnight and went to bed, but sleep came to him only by fits and starts, and all through the dark hours the same series of questions kept ringing their changes in his brain.
After an early breakfast he caught the eight-thirty train for Mapleford. A fly took him and his luggage from the station to Elm Lodge27, from whence, a few minutes later, he walked across the park to the Chase.
Sir Gilbert had lingered over breakfast, talking to his son, and in the corridor Everard met him face to face, looking a dozen years younger than when he had seen him last. The change in him was indeed marvellous.
"What! back already?" he said beamingly. "I thought you were going to take a few days' holiday in London. Why didn't you, eh? Why didn't you? But we'll have no work to-day, that's certain. The best thing you can do will be to have the dog-cart out after luncheon28 and take your sweetheart for a drive--lucky dog that you are, to have won the love of such a girl!" Then his voice took on a deeper tone. "What a happy chance for me was that which brought you and my son together at Liverpool and so gave Alec back to me weeks before I should otherwise have had him! I cannot help feeling as if I somehow owe it all to you. Well, well"--laying a kindly29 hand on his shoulder--"when your wedding-day is here you will find that I have not forgotten you." And with a smile and a nod he passed on.
Everard's most pressing object was to secure a private interview with Mr. John Clare--as he was henceforward to be known to the world, although to his father he would never be anything but Alec. Not till he should have recounted to the latter the history of the ring and put it into his hands, would he go in search of Ethel and surprise her by his unexpected return.
Presently he found John alone in the library, hunting up some of the favourite authors of his youth, from whom he felt that he had been too long parted. Sir Gilbert was closeted with one of his tenants30 in the study.
John Clare greeted Everard with a smile and a cordial grip of the hand. The liking31 he had conceived for him during the few hours they had spent together in Liverpool had not been, in any degree lessened32 by what he had heard about him since, both from his father and Lady Pell.
"I thought you were about to give yourself a holiday," he said, "and that we need not look to see you at the Chase for some days to come." He had already had his grizzled beard and heavy moustache carefully trimmed, and certainly he presented a much more civilised appearance than before.
"I was able to finish the business which took me to London in much less time than I expected," replied Everard. "The affair, however, has taken a turn wholly surprising and unexpected--one that seems to bring you, Mr. Clare, into connection with it, although as to the mode in which the connection in question originated I must confess that I am entirely33 in the dark."
"You excite my curiosity, Lisle. I hope you will not refuse to gratify it."
"Is there any place where we can secure half-an-hour to ourselves without fear of interruption?"
"Perhaps we had better go upstairs to my own room. No one will intrude34 upon us there."
"May I take the liberty of asking whether you have ever seen this ring before?" said Everard as soon as the two were seated opposite each other in John's dressing-room.
John took the ring and looked at it for a moment or two, as one in doubt. Then all at once a flash of recognition leapt into his eyes and every nerve in his body responded with a thrill. "Yes, I have seen this ring before--many years ago," he said slowly. "Have you any objection to telling me by what strange chance it came into your possession?"
"It was with that purpose I sought this interview. But the story is a long one, and at the beginning will doubtless seem irrelevant35 to the question you have just put to me."
"You shall tell it in your way. So long as the end of it furnishes me with an answer to my question I shall be satisfied."
"Some nineteen years ago," began Everard presently, "a certain clipper ship named the Pandora left New York for London having on board a number of passengers, among them being a certain Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane (that being the name by which she had booked herself), who, although she was dressed as a lady and wore a quantity of jewellery, had neither the manners nor the appearance of one. With her she had a child, a little girl only a few months old, to attend upon whom during the voyage, her own nursemaid having deserted36 her in New York--so her story ran--she engaged a woman from among the steerage passengers. Unfortunately, one dark night, Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane fell overboard and was lost.
"Among other passengers on the Pandora were two maiden37 ladies, sisters, of the name of Thursby, who, together with their brother, an elderly bachelor, were returning home after a brief visit to the States. The forlorn condition of the lost woman's infant touched the kind hearts of the sisters, and they made it their business to look after the child's welfare during the remainder of the voyage, naturally expecting that some relations of its mother would be there to meet the ship on its arrival in dock. However, there proved to be no one there to inquire for Mrs. Montmorenci-Vane, but, instead, a lawyer's clerk of the name of Griggs, who had come to meet his sister, the latter having written to inform him that she would take passage by the Pandora. Well, in a photograph of the so-called Mrs. Vane the clerk at once recognised his unmarried sister Martha, who had gone out to the States a few months before in the position of lady's-maid. There could be no possible mistake about the photograph. The captain and the whole of the cabin passengers were prepared to affirm that it was a likeness38 of Mrs. Vane, who had fallen overboard, while Griggs was prepared to swear an affidavit39 that it was the likeness of his sister. The poor man was terribly puzzled, as well he might be. He could not in the least comprehend why his sister had chosen to call herself Mrs. Vane--whence she had obtained the fine clothes and the jewellery in which she had flaunted40 on board ship--and, above all, what possible object she could have had in passing off the child of some one else as her own offspring. In the result, he declined to have anything whatever to do with the child, whom he left on the hands of Mr. Matthew Thursby and his sisters to be dealt with in whatever way they might choose.
"What the Miss Thursbys chose to do, was to adopt the child and bring her up as their niece. As such she grew up, never suspecting that the sisters were other than her aunts in reality, and not till her nineteenth birthday, when a letter was put into her hands addressed to her by Mr. Matthew Thursby, who had died many years before, with instructions that it should be read by her on that day--were the facts of her early history, so far as they were known, revealed to her. That the revelation was a great shock to her cannot be doubted, but it made no difference whatever in the relations which had subsisted41 for so long a time between herself and the sisters. The secret was still kept to themselves, and to this day, the waif of the Pandora passes as the niece of the two Miss Thursbys. A little later she became companion, pro2 tem., to Lady Pell, and accompanied the latter on her visit to Withington Chase. Doubtless you have already met Miss Thursby at luncheon and dinner, and so on, Mr. Clare."
"I have both met and noticed the young lady; indeed, when she and I are at table I find it difficult to take my eyes off her. She affects me in quite a singular way, the like of which I never experienced before. But that is not to the point just now. Pray proceed."
"The next fact needful for me to mention as bearing on my narrative--in what way you will presently understand--is, that Miss Ethel Thursby and I are engaged to be married." He spoke15 with a heightened colour and an added sparkle in his eyes.
"Ah! is that indeed so? I congratulate you with all my heart, Lisle."
"When, a few days ago," resumed Everard, "Sir Gilbert Clare placed in my hands a letter addressed to you at Pineapple City, with a request that I would at once proceed to America, search you out and give it into your hands, finding myself with a day to spare prior to the sailing of the steamer, I journeyed down to St. Oswyth's, where the Misses Thursby reside, with the object of putting certain questions to them. It seemed to me that there was just a faint chance that, while in the United States, I might be able, as a consequence of the inquiries42 I intended to set on foot there, to find the clue to the mystery surrounding the birth and parentage of her whom I hope shortly to call my wife; but I was desirous, first of all, to make myself thoroughly43 acquainted with every feature of the affair that had come under the cognisance of the sisters. As it fell out, however, they had nothing of any consequence to tell me which I did not know already. The only scrap44 of fresh evidence I brought away with me was the address of the man Griggs, who, in the portrait of Mrs. Vane, had recognised his sister. You know already, why I never got any farther than Liverpool on my way to the States. After parting from you, I went to London and was fortunate enough to find Griggs without difficulty; but, as in the case of the sisters, he had nothing to tell me which would in the least help to further the end I had in view. I was on the point of giving up the whole business in despair, when Mrs. Griggs happened to mention that among the luggage which had been claimed by the lawyer's clerk as his sister's property, there had been found a plain gold ring of very massive make. On expressing my desire to see the ring, I was told that circumstances had compelled Griggs to pledge it. But the following day saw it redeemed and placed in my hands. Perceiving that the inner side bore an inscription of some kind, I procured45 a lens and by its means was enabled to make out that part of the lettering represented the motto of the Clares of Withington Chase, and another part your own initials. Hence my reason for bringing the ring to you."
"I am glad, Lisle--very glad indeed that you have done so. For the present I will ask you to say nothing to anyone about what has passed between us this morning. You know, of course, that the Mrs. Clare who occupied Maylings for a short time was my wife?"
"She was known to everyone in the neighbourhood as Sir Gilbert's daughter-in-law."
"Can you tell me where to find her? It is requisite46 that I should see her with as little delay as possible."
"I have no knowledge of Mrs. Clare's movements; but her nephew, Luigi Rispani, left me an address at which a letter or message would at any time find him. It would be no trouble to me to run up to town by the next train, hunt up Rispani, and obtain from him the address of Mrs. Clare, with which he is pretty sure to be acquainted."
"If you will do that for me, Lisle, I shall be infinitely47 obliged to you."
"I will start at once. There is a train at twelve-thirty. If I have good luck, I ought to be back by seven o'clock."
John Clare held out his hand. "Bring me the address at any cost," he said.
The ring thus strangely recovered had been a present from him to Giovanna Rispani during the period of their brief courtship.
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1
futile
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| adj.无效的，无用的，无希望的 | |
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pro
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| n.赞成，赞成的意见，赞成者 | |
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3
ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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reticence
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| n.沉默，含蓄 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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6
tragical
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| adj. 悲剧的, 悲剧性的 | |
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7
devourer
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| 吞噬者 | |
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8
outrageous
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| adj.无理的，令人不能容忍的 | |
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9
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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10
hoax
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| v.欺骗，哄骗，愚弄；n.愚弄人，恶作剧 | |
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11
enigma
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| n.谜，谜一样的人或事 | |
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12
interim
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| adj.暂时的，临时的；n.间歇，过渡期间 | |
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13
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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14
inquiry
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| n.打听，询问，调查，查问 | |
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15
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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16
hoop
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| n.（篮球）篮圈，篮 | |
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17
redeem
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| v.买回，赎回，挽回，恢复，履行（诺言等） | |
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18
helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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19
shrug
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| v.耸肩(表示怀疑、冷漠、不知等) | |
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20
redeemed
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| adj. 可赎回的，可救赎的 动词redeem的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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21
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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24
tout
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| v.推销，招徕；兜售；吹捧，劝诱 | |
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arrogant
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| adj.傲慢的，自大的 | |
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tangle
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| n.纠缠；缠结；混乱；v.(使)缠绕；变乱 | |
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lodge
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| v.临时住宿，寄宿，寄存，容纳；n.传达室，小旅馆 | |
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28
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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29
kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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31
liking
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| n.爱好；嗜好；喜欢 | |
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32
lessened
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| 减少的，减弱的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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intrude
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| vi.闯入；侵入；打扰，侵扰 | |
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35
irrelevant
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| adj.不恰当的，无关系的，不相干的 | |
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36
deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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38
likeness
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| n.相像，相似（之处） | |
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affidavit
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| n.宣誓书 | |
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40
flaunted
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| v.炫耀，夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 )；有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
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41
subsisted
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| v.（靠很少的钱或食物）维持生活，生存下去( subsist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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42
inquiries
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| n.调查( inquiry的名词复数 )；疑问；探究；打听 | |
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43
thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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44
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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45
procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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46
requisite
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| adj.需要的，必不可少的；n.必需品 | |
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47
infinitely
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| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
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