Foul Play by Dion Boucicault (snow like ashes .TXT) 📖

“Ah!” she cried, “he is here. Only one man in the world could have brought that letter. I left it on the island. Robert is here. He gave you that letter.”

“You are right,” said the expert, “and what a fool I must be! I have no eye except for handwriting. He had a beard; and such a beard!”

“It is Robert!” cried Helen, in raptures. “He is come just in time.”

“In time to be arrested,” said Burt. “Why, his time is not out. He’ll get into trouble again.”

“Oh, Heaven forbid!” cried Helen, and turned so faint she had to be laid back on a chair, and salts applied to her nostrils.

She soon came to, and cried and trembled, but prepared to defend her Robert with all a woman’s wit. Burt and Undercliff were conversing in a low voice, and Burt was saying he felt sure Wardlaw’s spies had detected Robert Penfold, and that Robert would be arrested and put into prison as a runaway convict. “Go to Scotland Yard this minute, Mr. Burt,” said Helen, eagerly.

“What for?”

“Why, you must take the commission to arrest him. You are our friend.”

Burt slapped his thigh with delight.

“That is first-rate, miss,” said he. “I’ll take the real felon, first, you may depend. Now, Mr. Undercliff, write your report, and hand it to Miss Helen with fac-similes. It will do no harm if you make a declaration to the same effect before a magistrate. You, Miss Rolleston, keep yourself disengaged, and please don’t go out. You will very likely hear from me again to-day.”

He drove off, and Helen, though still greatly agitated by Robert’s danger and the sense of his presence, now sat down, trembling a little, and compared Arthur’s letter with the forged document. The effect of this comparison was irresistible. The expert, however, asked her for some letter of Arthur’s that had never passed through Robert Penfold’s hands. She gave him the short note in which he used the very words, Robert Penfold. He said he would make that note the basis of his report.

While he was writing it, Mrs. Undercliff came in, and Helen told her all. She said, “I came to the same conclusion long ago; but when you said he was to be your husband—”

“Ah,” said Helen, “we women are poor creatures; we can always find some reason for running away from the truth. Now explain about the prayerbook.”

“Well, miss, I felt sure he would steal it, so I made Ned produce a fac-simile. And he did steal it. What you got back was your mother’s prayerbook. Of course I took care of that.”

“Oh, Mrs. Undercliff,” cried Helen, “do let me kiss you.”

Then they had a nice little cry together, and, by the time they had done, the report was ready in duplicate.

“I’ll declare this before a magistrate,” said the expert, “and then I’ll send it you.

At four o’clock of this eventful day, Helen got a message from Burt to say that he had orders to arrest Robert Penfold, and that she must wear a mask, and ask Mr. Wardlaw to meet her at old Mr. Penfold’s at nine o’clock. But she herself must be there at half-past eight, without fail, and bring Undercliff’s declaration and report with her, and the prayerbook, etc.

Accordingly Helen went down to old Mr. Penfold’s at half-past eight and was received by Nancy Rouse, and ushered into Mr. Penfold’s room; that is to say, Nancy held the door open, and, on her entering the room, shut it sharply and ran down stairs.

Helen entered the room; a man rose directly, and came to her; but it was not Michael Penfold—it was Robert. A faint scream, a heavenly sigh, and her head was on his shoulder, and her arm round his neck, and both their hearts panting as they gazed, and then clung to each other, and then gazed again with love unutterable. After a while they got sufficient composure to sit down hand in hand and compare notes. And Helen showed him their weapons of defense, the prayerbook, the expert’s report, etc.

A discreet tap was heard at the door. It was Nancy Rouse. On being invited to enter, she came in and said, “Oh, Miss Helen, I’ve got a penitent outside, which he done it for love of me, and now he’ll make a clean breast, and the fault was partly mine. Come in, Joe, and speak for yourself.”

On this, Joe Wylie came in, hanging his head, piteously.

“She is right, sir,” said he; “I’m come to ask your pardon and the lady’s. Not as I ever meant you any harm; but to destroy the ship, it was a bad act, and I’ve never throve since. Nance, she have got the money. I’ll give it back to the underwriters; and, if you and the lady will forgive a poor fellow that was tempted with love and money, why, I’ll stand to the truth for you, though it’s a bitter pill.”

“I forgive you,” said Robert; “and I accept your offer to serve me.”

“And so do I,” said Helen. “Indeed, it is not us you have wronged. But oh, I am glad, for Nancy’s sake, that you repent.”

“Miss, I’ll go through fire and water for you,” said Wylie, lifting up his head.

Here old Michael came in to say that Arthur Wardlaw was at the door, with a policeman.

“Show him in,” said Robert.

“Oh, no, Robert!” said Helen. “He fills me with horror.”

“Show him in,” said Robert, gently. “Sit down, all of you.”

Now Burt had not told Arthur who was in the house, so he came, rather uneasy in his mind, but still expecting only to see Helen.

Robert Penfold told Helen to face the door, and the rest to sit back; and this arrangement had not been effected one second, when Arthur came in, with a lover’s look, and, taking two steps into the room, saw the three men waiting to receive him. At sight of Penfold, he started and turned pale as ashes; but, recovering himself, said: “My dearest Helen, this is indeed an unexpected pleasure. You will reconcile me to one whose worth and innocence I never doubted, and tell him I have had some little hand in clearing him.”

His effrontery was received in dead silence. This struck cold to his bones, and, being naturally weak, he got violent. He said, “Allow me to send a message to my servant.”

He then tore a leaf out of his memorandum-book, wrote on it: “Robert Penfold is here; arrest him directly, and take him away”; and, inclosing this in an envelope, sent it out to Burt by Nancy.

Helen seated herself quietly, and said, “Mr. Wardlaw, when did Mr. Hand go to America?”

Arthur stammered out, “I don’t know the exact date.”

“Two or three months ago?”

“Yes.”

“Then the person you sent to me to tell me that falsehood was not Mr. Hand?”

“I sent nobody.”

“Oh, for shame! for shame! Why have you set spies? Why did you make away with my prayerbook; or what you thought was my prayerbook? Here is my prayerbook, that proves you had the Proserpine destroyed; and I should have lost my life but for another, whom you had done your best to destroy. Look Robert Penfold in the face, if you can.”

Arthur’s eyes began to waver. “I can,” said he. “I never wronged him. I always lamented his misfortune.”

“You were not the cause?”

“Never!—so help me Heaven!”

“Monster!” said Helen, turning away in contempt and horror.

“Oh, that is it—is it?” said Arthur, wildly. “You break faith with me for him? You insult me for him? I must bear anything from you, for I love you; but, at least, I will sweep him out of the path.”

He ran to the door, opened it, and there was Burt, listening.

“Are you an officer?”

“Yes.”

“Then arrest that man this moment: he is Robert Penfold, a convict returned before his time.”

Burt came into the room, locked the door and put the key in his pocket.

“Well, sir,” said he to Robert Penfold, “I know you are a quick hitter. Don’t let us have a row over it this time. If you have got anything to say, say it quiet and comfortable.”

“I will go with you on one condition,” said Robert. “You must take the felon as well as the martyr. This is the felon,” and he laid his hand on Arthur’s shoulder, who cowered under the touch at first, but soon began to act violent indignation.

“Take the ruffian away at once,” he cried.

“What, before I hear what he has got to say?”

“Would you listen to him against a merchant of the city of London, a man of unblemished reputation?”

“Well, sir, you see we have got a hint that you were concerned in scuttling a ship; and that is a felony. So I think I’ll just hear what he has got to say. You need not fear any man’s tongue if you are innocent.”

“Sit down, if you please, and examine these documents,” said Robert Penfold. “As to the scuttling of the ship, here is the deposition of two seamen, taken on their death-bed, and witnessed by Miss Rolleston and myself.”

“And that book he tried to steal,” said Helen.

Robert continued: “And here is Undercliff’s fac-simile of the forged note. Here are specimens of Arthur Wardlaw’s handwriting, and here is Undercliff’s report.”

The detective ran his eye hastily over the report, which we slightly condense.

On comparing the forged note with genuine specimens of John Wardlaw’s handwriting, no less than twelve deviations from his habits of writing strike the eye; and every one of these twelve deviations is a deviation into a habit of Arthur Wardlaw, which is an amount of demonstration rarely attained in cases of forgery.

1. THE CAPITAL L.—Compare in London (forged note) with the same letter in London in Wardlaw’s letter.

2. THE CAPITAL D.—Compare this letter in “Date” with the same letter in “Dearest.”

3. THE CAPITAL T.—Compare it in “Two” and “Tollemache.”

4. The word “To”; see “To pay,” in forged note and third line of letter.

5. Small “o” formed with a loop in the up-stroke.

6. The manner of finishing the letter “v.”

7. Ditto the letter “w.”

8. The imperfect formation of the small “a.” This and the looped” o” run through the forged note and Arthur Wardlaw ‘s letter, and are habits entirely foreign to the style of John Wardlaw.

9. See the “th” in connection.

10. Ditto the “of” in connection.

11. The incautious use of the Greek e. John Wardlaw never uses this e. Arthur Wardlaw never uses any other, apparently. The writer of the forged note began right, but, at the word Robert Penfold, glided insensibly into his Greek e, and maintained it to the end of the forgery. This looks as if he was in the habit of writing those two words.

12. Compare the words “Robert Penfold” in the forged document with the same words in the letter. The similarity is so striking that on these two words alone the writer could be identified beyond a doubt.

13. Great pains were taken with the signature, and it is like John Wardlaw’s writing on the surface; but go below the surface, and it is all Arthur Wardlaw.

The looped o, the small r, the 1 drooping below the d, the open a, are all Arthur Wardlaw’s. The open loop of the final w is a still bolder deviation into A. W. ‘s own hand. The final flourish is a curious mistake. It is executed with skill and freedom; but the writer has made the lower line the thick one. Yet John Wardlaw never does this.

How was the deviation caused?