The Stolen Statesman: Being the Story of a Hushed Up Mystery

“That young woman was a friend of mine, who knows nothing about the general circumstances. I simply made use of her for this particular purpose.”

There was a long pause. Wingate was the first to break it. He had no kindly feelings towards this woman who was ready to betray her old associates when it suited her own interests. Still, he could dissemble better than Sheila.

“You have cleared up all except one thing, Mrs Saxton. What of the Italian who died at Forest View, and the man Whyman who disappeared after Smeaton’s visit to him at Southport?”

“They were both members of a rather wide fraudulent partnership which included Stent and Bolinski. Roselli was evidently seized with remorse on his deathbed, and, much to Stent’s chagrin, conveyed a message in Italian which the young man Franks in his turn conveyed to Smeaton. Had Stent guessed the nature of that message, he would have found some means to keep Franks out of the house. In consequence of my information, the police are searching for Whyman now.”

This extraordinary woman was, by now, perfectly calm and collected. What her inmost feelings were, it would be impossible to guess, but apparently she felt no shame in avowing that she had betrayed her old friends.

There was an embarrassing silence till she spoke again. “I have now concluded my story. If there is nothing more you wish to ask me, I will go.”

Sheila rose, her face cold and hard. “Nothing more, Mrs Saxton. My father will, of course, reward you for the help you gave him, as you have put it yourself, at the eleventh hour. He has no doubt arranged that with you already. You will understand that now I want him to myself.”

“I quite understand.” Without another word, she bowed and left the room, her bearing not devoid of a certain dignity, which might, or might not, have been the result of callousness.

Left to themselves, Sheila breathed a sigh of relief. “The air is sweeter for her departure,” she said simply.

Then she knelt down again, and laid one hand tenderly on her father’s shoulder. The other she extended to Wingate, and drew him towards her.

“Father, dearest,” she said in her sweet, low voice, “I have a secret to tell you, and I could not tell it on a better night than this. Austin and I love each other. You do not know what he has been to me during this terrible time. You will let us be happy?”

Very gentle and kindly was the smile that met her upturned face.

“My darling, you are the dearest thing on earth to me. Could I refuse you anything on such a night as this?” He turned to the young man. “Austin – give me your hand.”

He placed it in Sheila’s, and drawing his daughter to his breast, kissed her. “Dearest, I wish you to follow where your heart leads you. And I think you have chosen well.”

Three Months Later

Reginald Monkton, restored to his normal health and strength by the devoted ministrations of his daughter, resumed his place in the House. And six months after that happy event the wedding bells rang for Sheila and Austin Wingate, heralding the dawn of a bright future for these sorely tried lovers.

Of the other personages in the story but little remains to be told. Stent and Bolinski, with their accomplice, Whyman, were tried at the Old Bailey and found guilty of extensive and far-reaching frauds, and condemned to a long term of penal servitude.

Mrs Saxton, enriched by the handsome reward bestowed upon her by Monkton, left England for abroad. Farloe disappeared also, and doubtless rejoined his sister under another name. Varney still retains his penchant for the detection of crime, but so far has not achieved any notable success.

The beautiful Lady Wrenwyck was speedily relieved from the yoke that had galled her for so many years. A few months after the failure of his diabolical scheme to revenge himself upon his hated rival, her husband’s mind, already tottering became unhinged. He developed symptoms of homicidal mania, and was placed under restraint. The doctors pronounced it an incurable case.

Caleb Boyle, thanks to the kindness of Wingate, who had taken a great fancy to him, fell upon his feet. He was offered and accepted a post in the big aeroplane works, at a salary that placed him far above the reach of want.

For, reviewing all the efforts made by himself, Varney, and the trained detectives of Scotland Yard, Austin felt that some reward was due to the man, erratic and ill-balanced as he might be, who had come nearest to the solution of the mystery of “The Stolen Statesman.”

The End