The Lost Heir

"Yes, except myself; but I am not an owner, as I have sold the Mary Ann."

"There is no other owner now," she said, "that I know of, of that name. The barge is yours. It is bought as testimony of our gratitude for the kindness that you have shown Walter, and you see it is named after him."

"It is too much, miss," said Bill huskily, while his wife burst into tears. "It is too much altogether. We only did our duty to the child, and we were well paid for it."

"You did more than your duty," Hilda said. "The money might pay for food and shelter and clothes, but money cannot buy love, and that is what you gave, both of you; and it is for that that we now pay as well as we can."

"Miss Covington should say 'I,'" Netta broke in, "for it is her present entirely. Walter's trustees could not touch his money for the purpose, and so she has done it herself."

"Hush, Netta! You should have said nothing about it," Hilda said; and then, turning to Nibson, went on, "I am his nearest relative – his only relative, in fact – besides being his guardian, and, therefore, naturally I am the most interested in his happiness; and as, fortunately, I am myself very well off, I can well afford the pleasure of helping those who have been so good to him. Please do not say anything more about it. Now we will go on deck for a few minutes, and leave you and your wife to look round. We will show Joshua his cabin."

So saying, she and Netta went on deck. Joshua, led by Walter, was just crossing the plank. He had not received a special invitation, and he felt too shy to go on board with these ladies present. Walter, however, had run across to him, and at last persuaded him to come.

"Well, Joshua," Hilda said, as she reached him, "what do you think of the barge?"

"She is as good a one as ever I seed," the boy said.

"Well, Joshua, she belongs to Mr. Nibson."

"To Bill?" Joshua exclaimed. "You don't mean it, miss."

"I do mean it," she said; "this is his barge."

"Well, I shouldn't have thought that Bill was that artful!" Joshua exclaimed almost indignantly. "Fancy his keeping it from the missis and me that he had been and bought a new barge! But she is a fine one, there aint no doubt about that."

"Come forward and look at your cabin, Joshua. I think you will say that it is more comfortable than usual."

"Well, I am blowed!" the boy ejaculated, as he followed her down the ladder and looked round. "Why, it is a palace, that is wot it is; it is more comfortable than the master's cabin aft in most barges. And what a bed! Why, it is soft enough for a hemperor."

"There are no sheets, Joshua. They told me that the men never use sheets in barges."

"Lor' bless you! no, ma'am. We mostly stretch ourselves on the locker and roll ourselves up in a blanket, if we are lucky enough to have one. Why, I don't know as I shan't be afraid of getting into that bed, though I does take a header in the water every morning. There are lockers on both sides, too, and a basin. Who ever heard of such a thing as a basin? Why, miss, we allus washes in the pail on deck."

"Well, I should think that it would be a good deal more comfortable to wash down here in a basin on a cold morning."

"Well, I suppose it might, miss; it be sharp sometimes outside. Why, there is oilcloth all over the floor, and a mat to wipe one's feet at the bottom of the ladder, and a rug by the side of the bed! I never did see such things. Bill must have gone clean off his chump. Well, I am blessed!"

"It is Miss Covington who has given Bill the barge and seen to its being fitted up," Netta said, "and she has done her best to make your cabin as comfortable as possible, because you have been so kind to Walter."

"And I hope to do some more for you, Joshua, when I can see my way to do it. You will find two or three suits of clothes for your work in those lockers. I do not know that they will quite fit, but I dare say if they don't Mrs. Nibson can alter them for you, and you will find shirts and warm underclothing, and so on, in that cupboard."

Joshua sat down suddenly on a locker, completely overpowered with what seemed to him the immensity of his possessions.

There the girls left him, and they went up on deck again.

Going aft, they sat down and talked for a few minutes, and were then joined by Nibson and his wife. The latter still bore traces of tears on her cheeks, and there was a suspicious redness about Bill's eyes.

"We won't try to say what we would like to say," the man began, "'cause we could not say it, but we feels it just the same. Here we are with everything man or woman could wish for, ready to hand."

"As I have said before, Nibson, please do not say anything more about it. It has made me quite as happy to get this barge for you, and to make it comfortable, as it can do you both to receive it. And now we will go ashore."

In the house they found that tea was ready, save pouring the water into the pot. A ham and a couple of cold chickens were on the table, and jam and honey were specially provided for Walter. Joshua did not make one of the party. After recovering from the contemplation of his own cabin he had gone aft and remained in almost awe-struck admiration at the comfort and conveniences there, until summoned by Bill to take his place and help to get the new boat into the water, and to row the ladies down to Hole Haven.

CHAPTER XXV.

A CRUSHING EXPOSURE

The case of the application by John Simcoe for an order for the trustees of the will of the late General Mathieson to carry its provisions into effect was on the list of cases for the day. Tom Roberts was walking up and down in Westminster Hall, waiting for it to come on, when he saw a face he knew.

"Hullo, Sergeant Nichol, what brings you here?"

"Just curiosity, Roberts. I happened to see in the list of cases one of Simcoe against the trustees of General Mathieson. 'What,' I said to himself, 'Simcoe? That is the name of the chap who saved General Mathieson's life.' I remember their being both brought into cantonment, as well as if it were yesterday. I was with Paymaster-Sergeant Sanderson, the fellow who bolted a short time afterwards with three hundred pounds from the pay-chest and never was heard of afterwards. We heard that Simcoe was drowned at sea; and sorry we all were, for a braver fellow never stepped in shoe leather, and there was not a man there who did not feel that he owed him a debt of gratitude for saving the brigadier's life. So when I saw the paper I said to myself, 'Either the man was not drowned at all, or he must be some relation of his. I will go into court and have a look at him.'"

"It is the same man, but I am sorry to say that, though he may be as brave as a lion, he is a rogue. But you can see him without going into court. That is him, talking with the man in a wig and gown and that little man in black, who is, I suppose, his lawyer. He knows me, so I won't go near him; but you can walk as close as you like to him, and take a good look at him."

Not content with looking once, Sergeant Nichol passed him backwards and forwards three times. When he rejoined Roberts the latter saw that he looked flushed and excited.

"What is it, sergeant?"

"I don't believe it is Simcoe at all," the sergeant said. "It is that man Sanderson I was speaking about just now. Several of us noticed how like he was to Simcoe, but the expression of their faces was different. Simcoe was five or six years younger, and had a pleasant expression; Sanderson had a hard face. None of us liked him, he was a man one could never get friendly with; you might be in the same mess for years and not know more about him at the end than you did at the beginning. Of course, they would both be changed a good deal by this time, but I don't believe that Simcoe would have grown so as to be like this man; and I am sure that Sanderson would. He had a mark on him that I should know him by. One day when he was a recruit his musket went off, and the ball went through his left forearm. It was only a flesh wound, but it left a blackened scar, and I will bet all that I am worth that if you turned up that fellow's sleeve you would find it there."

"That is very important, sergeant. I will go and tell my young lady; she is talking with her lawyers and Colonel Bulstrode at the other end of the hall."

Hilda clapped her hands.

"What do you say now, Mr. Pettigrew? I was right, after all. Bring your friend up, Roberts, and let us hear his story ourselves."

Sergeant Nichol was fetched, and repeated the story that he had told to Roberts.

"Thank you very much, sergeant," the barrister said. "Please remain here while we talk it over. What do you think of this, Mr. Pettigrew?"

"It would seem to explain the whole matter that has puzzled us so. I did not tell you, because it was not in my opinion at all necessary to the case, that Miss Covington has always maintained that the man was not Simcoe, and so positive was she that her friend, Miss Purcell, went down to Stowmarket to make inquiries. It was certainly believed by his friends there that he was Simcoe, and this to my mind was quite conclusive. But I am bound to say that it did not satisfy Miss Covington."

"May I ask, Miss Covington, why you took up that opinion in the first place?"

"Because I was convinced that he was not the sort of man who would have risked his life for another. After Miss Purcell came back from Stowmarket we found out that just before he called on my uncle he advertised for relatives of the late John Simcoe, and that the advertisement appeared not in the Suffolk papers only, but in the London and provincial papers all over the country; and it was evident, if this man was John Simcoe, he would not advertise all over England, instead of going down to Stowmarket, where his family lived, and where he himself had lived for years. He received a reply from an old lady, an aunt of John Simcoe's, living there, went down and saluted her as his aunt, at once offered to settle a pension of fifty pounds a year on her, and after remaining for three days in her house, no doubt listening to her gossip about all John Simcoe's friends, went and introduced himself to them. There was probably some resemblance in height and figure, and an absence of twenty years would have effected a change in his face, so that, when it was found that his aunt unhesitatingly accepted him, the people there had no doubt whatever that it was their old acquaintance. Therefore, this in no way shook my belief that he was not the man.

"It turns out now, you see, that there was another man at Benares at the time who was remarkably like him, and that this man was a scoundrel and a thief. When he deserted no doubt he would take another name, and having doubtless heard that John Simcoe was dead, and remembering the remarks made as to his likeness to him, he was as likely to take that name as any other, though probably not with any idea of making any special use of it. When in England he may have heard General Mathieson's name mentioned, and remembering that Simcoe had saved the life of the General, may have thought that the name and the likeness might enable him to personate the man. He first set about establishing his identity by going down to Stowmarket, and after that it was easy. I have thought it all over so many times that although it never struck me that there might have been at Benares some man bearing a striking resemblance to John Simcoe, all the rest is exactly as I had figured it out to my mind. Now I will leave you, gentlemen, to decide what use you will make of the discovery, while I go and tell my friends of it."

The seats allotted to the general public were empty, as a case of this sort offered but slight attraction even to the loungers in the hall, but a large number of barristers were present. It had been whispered about that there were likely to be some unexpected developments in the case. The counsel engaged on both sides were the leaders of the profession, who could hardly have been expected to be retained in a mere case of a formal application for an order for trustees to act upon a will.

"The facts of the case, my lord," the counsel who led for John Simcoe commenced, "are simple, and we are at a loss to understand how the trustees of the late General Mathieson can offer any opposition to our obtaining the order asked for. Nothing can be more straightforward than the facts. The late General Mathieson, early in March, 1852, made a will, which was duly signed and witnessed, bequeathing, among other legacies, the amount of ten thousand pounds to Mr. John Simcoe, as a mark of his gratitude for his having saved him from a tiger some twenty years before in India. The act was one of heroic bravery, and Mr. Simcoe nearly lost his own life in saving that of the General."

He then related with dramatic power the incidents of the struggle.

"There is, then, no matter of surprise that this large legacy should have been left to Mr. Simcoe by the General, who was a man of considerable wealth. The bulk of the property was left to his grandson, and in the event of his dying before coming of age it was to go to a niece, a Miss Covington, to whom only a small legacy was left; she being herself mistress of an estate and well provided for. Two months afterwards the General, upon reflection, decided to enlarge his gift to Mr. Simcoe, and he, therefore, in another will named him, in place of Miss Covington, who was amply provided for, his heir in the event of his grandson's death. I may say that the second will was not drawn up by the solicitors who had framed the first will. Probably, as often happens, the General preferred that the change he had effected should not be known until after his death, even to his family solicitors. He, therefore, went to a firm of equal respectability and standing, Messrs. Halstead & James, who have made an affidavit that he interviewed them personally on the matter, and gave them written instructions for drawing up his will, and signed it in their presence.

"I may say that in all other respects, including the legacy of ten thousand pounds, the wills were absolutely identical. The trustees, after waiting until the last day permitted by law, have, to our client's surprise, proved the first of these two wills, ignoring the second; on what ground I am at a loss to understand. As my client is entitled to ten thousand pounds under either will it might be thought that the change would make little difference to him; but unhappily the circumstances have entirely changed by the fact that the General's grandson was lost or stolen on the day before his death, and in spite of the most active efforts of the police, and the offer of large rewards – my client, who was deeply affected by the loss of the child, himself offering a thousand pounds for news of his whereabouts – nothing was heard of him until two months after his disappearance, when his body was found in the canal at Paddington, and after hearing evidence of identification, and examining the clothes, which all parties agreed to be those of the missing child, the jury returned a verdict that the body was that of Walter Rivington, and that there was no proof of how he came by his end.