By Conduct and Courage Part 44

They chatted for some time, and then Will said:

"Are you quite sure, John, that the bundle the clergyman handed over to me contained every single thing my father left behind him?"

"Well, now I think of it, Will, there is something else. I never remembered it at the time, but when my old woman was sweeping a cobweb off the rafters the other day she said: 'Why, here is Will's father's fiddle', and, sure enough, there it was. It had been up there from the day you came into the house, and if we noticed it none of us ever gave it a thought."

"I remember it now," Will exclaimed. "When I was a young boy I used to think I should like to learn to play on it, and I spoke to Miss Warden about it. But she said I had better stick to my lessons, and then as I grew up I could learn it if I still had a fancy to do so."

He got on to a chair, and took it from the rafter on which it had so long lain. Then he carefully wiped the dust off it.

"It looks a very old thing, but that makes no difference in its value to me. I don't see in the least how this can be any clue whatever to my father's ident.i.ty. Still, I will take it away with me and show it to my lawyer, who is endeavouring to trace for me who my father was."

"And do you think that he will succeed, Will?"

"I rather believe he will. At any rate he has found a gentleman, a baronet, who has the same name and bears the same coat of arms as is on the seal which was in my father's bundle. We are trying now to trace how my father came down here, and where he lived before he started. You see I must get as clear a story as I can before I go to see this gentleman.

Mind, I don't want anything from him. He may be as rich as a lord for anything I care, and may refuse to have anything to do with me, but I want to find out to what family I really belong."

"He must be a bad lot," John said, "to allow your father to tramp about the country with a fiddle."

"I would not say that," Will said; "there are always two sides to a story, and we know nothing of my father's reasons for leaving home. It may have been his fault more than his father's, so until I know the rights and wrongs of the case I will form no judgment whatever."

"That is right, my boy," the old woman said. "I have noticed that when a boy runs away from home and goes to sea it is as often his fault as his father's. Sometimes it is six of one and half a dozen of the other; sometimes the father is a brute, but more often the son is a scamp, a worthless fellow, who will settle down to nothing, and brings discredit on his family. So you are quite right, Will, not to form any hard judgment on your grandfather till you know how it all came about."

"I certainly don't mean to, mother. Of course I have so little recollection of my father that it would not worry me much if I found that it were his fault, though of course I would rather know that he was not to blame. Still, I should wish to like my grandfather if I could, and if I heard that my poor father was really entirely to blame I should not grieve much over it."

"I can't help thinking that he was to blame, Will. He was a curious-looking man, with a very bitter expression at times on his face, as if he didn't care for anyone in the world, except perhaps yourself, and he often left you alone in the village when he went and wandered about by himself on the moor."

"Well, well," Will said, "it matters very little to me which way it is. It is a very old story now, and I dare say that there were faults on both sides."

Will spent a long day with the old people and then returned to Scarborough, taking the violin with him. When he told how he had found it Mr. Archer took the instrument and examined it carefully.

"I think really," he said at last, "that this violin may prove a valuable clue, as valuable almost as that coat of arms. That might very well have been picked up or bought for a trifle at a p.a.w.nshop, or come into the hands of its possessor in some accidental way. But this is different; this, unless I am greatly mistaken, is a real Amati, and therefore worth at least a couple of hundred guineas. That could hardly have come accidentally into the hands of a wandering musician; it must be a relic of a time when he was in very different circ.u.mstances, and may well have been his before he left the home of his childhood."

"Thank you very much for the information, Mr. Archer! I see at once that it may very well be a strong link in the chain."

Two days later he returned to London. Mr. Palethorpe was greatly pleased to hear that he had found so valuable a clue.

"I don't care a rap for family," he said, "but at the same time I suppose every man would like his daughter-" Here he stopped abruptly. "I mean to say," he said, "would like to have for his son-in-law a man of good family. I grant that it is a very stupid prejudice, still I suppose it is a general one. You told me, I think, that your lawyer had found out that this Sir Ralph Gilmore had only two sons, and that one of them had died suddenly and unmarried."

"That is so, sir."

"Then in that case, you see, if you prove your ident.i.ty you would certainly be heir to the baronetcy."

"I suppose so, sir. I have never given the matter any thought. It is not rank I want, but family. Still, I might not be heir to the baronetcy, for even supposing that my father was really the other son, he might have had children older than I am who remained with their grandfather."

"That is possible," Mr. Palethorpe said, "though unlikely. Why should he have left them behind him when he went out into the world?"

"He might not have wished to bother himself with them; he might have intended to claim them later. No one can say."

"Well, on the whole, I should say that your chance of coming into the baronetcy is distinctly good. It would look well, you know-Captain Sir William Gilmore, R.N."

"We mustn't count our chickens too soon, Mr. Palethorpe," Will laughed; "but nevertheless I do think that the prospects are favourable. Still, I must wait the result of the search that my lawyer has been carrying on."

"Well, you know my house is your home as long as you like to use it."

"Thank you, sir! but I don't like to intrude upon your kindness too much, and I think that I will take a lodging somewhere in the West End, so that I may be within easy reach of you here."

"Well, it must be as you like, lad. In some respects, perhaps, it will be best so. I may remind you, my boy, that it is not always wise for two young people to be constantly in each other's society." And he laughed.

Will made no answer; he had decided to defer putting the question until his claim was settled one way or the other.

In a few days he again called upon his lawyer.

"I have found out enough," the latter said, "to be certain that your father started from London with his violin and you, a child of three. I have considerable hopes that we shall, ere long, get a clue to the place where he lived while in London. The runner has met a woman who remembers distinctly such a man and a sick wife and child lodging in the house of a friend of hers. The friend has moved away and she has lost sight of her, but she knows some people with whom the woman was intimate, and through them we hope to find out where she lives."

"That is good news indeed," Will said. "I had hardly hoped that you would be so successful."

"It is a great piece of luck," the lawyer said. "I have written to my other agents to come home. It will be quite sufficient to prove that he journeyed as a wandering musician for at least fifty miles from London. Of course if further evidence is necessary they can resume their search."

"I have found a clue too, sir," Will said; and he then related the discovery of the Amati, the possession of which showed that the minstrel must at one time have been in wealthy circ.u.mstances.

"That is important indeed," the lawyer said, rubbing his hands. "Now, sir, if we can but find out where the man lived in London I think the chain will be complete, especially if he was in comparatively good circ.u.mstances when he went there. The woman will also, doubtless, be able to give a description of his wife as well of himself, and with these various proofs in your hand I think you may safely go down and see Sir Ralph Gilmore, whom I shall, of course, prepare by letter for your visit."

Four days afterwards Will received a letter by an office-boy from his lawyer asking him to call.

"My dear sir," he said as Will entered, "I congratulate you most heartily.

I think we have the chain complete now. The day before yesterday the Bow Street runner came in to say that he had found the woman, and that she was now living out at Highgate. Yesterday I sent my clerk up to see her, and this is his report. I may tell you that nothing could possibly be more satisfactory."

The doc.u.ment was as follows:

"I called on Mrs. Giles. She is a respectable person who lets her house in lodgings. Twenty-five years ago she had a house in Westminster, and let the drawing-room floor to a gentleman of the name of Gilmore. He was rather tall and dark, and very variable in his temper. He had his wife with him, and two months afterwards a child was born. It was christened at St. Matthew's. I was its G.o.d-mother, as they seemed to have very few friends in the town. Mr. Gilmore was out a good deal looking for employment. He used to write of an evening, and I think made money by it.

He was very fond of his violin. Sometimes it was soft music he played, but if he was in a bad temper he would make it shriek and cry out, and I used to think there was a devil shut up in it. It was awful! When he came to me he had plenty of money, but it was not long before it began to run short, and they lived very plain. He had all sorts of things, whips and books and dressing-cases. These gradually went, and a year after the child was born they moved upstairs, the rooms being cheaper for them. A year later they occupied one room. The wife fell ill, and the rent was often in arrears.

He was getting very shabby in his dress too. The child was three years old when its mother died. He sold all he had left to bury her decently, and as he had no money to pay his arrears of rent, he gave me a silver-mounted looking-gla.s.s, which I understood his mother had given him, and he said: 'Don't you sell this, but keep it, and one day or other I will come back and redeem it.' "

"This is the gla.s.s, sir," the lawyer said. "My clerk redeemed it after telling her that her lodger had died long ago. He went round to St.

Matthew's Church and obtained the certificate of the child's baptism. So I think now, Mr. Gilmore, that we have all the evidence that can be required. Mrs. Giles, on hearing that the child was alive, said she would be happy to come forward and repeat what she had said to my clerk. She seemed very interested in the affair, and is evidently a kindly good-hearted woman. I fancy the silver frame is of Italian workmans.h.i.+p, and will probably be recognized by your grandfather. At any rate, someone there is sure to know it. Now I think you are in a position to go down and see him, and if you wish I will write to him to-day. I shall not go into matters at all, and shall merely say that the son of his son, Mr. William Gilmore, is coming down to have an interview with him, and is provided with all necessary proofs of his birth."

The next morning Will took the coach and went down to Radstock, in Somersets.h.i.+re. He put up at the inn on his arrival, and next morning hired a gig and drove to the house of Sir Ralph Gilmore. It was a very fine mansion standing in an extensive park.

"Not a bad place by any means," Will said to himself; "I should certainly be proud to bring Alice down here."

He alighted at the entrance and sent in his name, and was immediately shown into the library, where a tall old man was sitting.

"I understand, sir," he said stiffly, "that you claim to be the son of my son, William Gilmore?"

"I do, sir, and I think the proofs I shall give you will satisfy you. You will understand, sir, please, before I do so, that I have no desire whatever to make any claim upon you; I simply wished to be recognized as a member of your family."

The old man looked him up and down, and then motioned him to take a seat.