Gordon Craig | Page 5

never extended an invitation to return home. Consequently
Philip remained in the North, and led his own life. He became
dissipated, and a rounder, and drifted into evil associations. Finally,
about six months ago, he married a girl in this city, not of wealthy
family, but of respectable antecedents. Her home, we understand, was
in Spokane, and she had an engagement on the stage when she first met

Henley. He married her under his assumed name and they began
housekeeping in a flat on the north side."
He paused in his recital, took a drink, his eyes turning toward Neale;
then resumed in the same level voice:
"The Judge learned of this marriage in some way, and began to insist
that the son return home with his wife. Circumstances prevented,
however, and the visit was deferred. Meanwhile, becoming more
eccentric as he grew older, the father discharged all his old servants,
and lived the life of a recluse. When he died suddenly, and almost alone,
he left a will, probably drawn up soon after he learned of his son's
wedding, leaving his property to Philip, providing the young man
returned, with his wife, to live upon the estate within six months;
otherwise the entire estate should be divided among certain named
charities. Three administrators were named, of whom Neale here was
one."
I glanced back at the man referred to; he was leaning forward, his
elbow on his knees, and, catching my eyes, drew a legal-looking paper
from his pocket.
"Here is a copy of the will," he said, "if Craig cares to examine it."
"Not now," I replied. "Let me hear the entire story first."
Vail leaned back in his chair, a cigar between his lips.
"The administrators," he went on, as though uninterrupted, and
repeating a set speech, "endeavored to locate young Henley, but failed.
Then Mr. Neale was sent here to make a personal search. He came to
me for aid, and legal advice. Finally we found the flat where the young
couple had lived. It was deserted, and we learned from neighbors that
they had quarreled, and the wife left him. We have been unable to
discover her whereabouts. She did not return to, or communicate with,
her own people in the West, or with any former friends in this city. She
simply disappeared, and we have some reason to believe committed
suicide. The body of a young woman, fitting her general description,

was taken from the river, and buried without identification."
"And young Henley?" I asked, as he paused.
"Henley," he continued gravely, "was at last located, under an assumed
name, as a prisoner in the Indiana penitentiary at Michigan City,
serving a sentence of fourteen years for forgery. He positively refuses
to identify himself as Philip Henley, and all our efforts to gain him a
pardon have failed."
"But what have I to do with all this?" I questioned, beginning to have a
faint glimmer of the truth.
"Wait, and I will explain fully. Don't interrupt until I am done. Here
was a peculiar situation. The administrators are all old personal friends
of the testator, anxious to have the estate retained in the family. How
could this be accomplished? Neale laid the case before me. I can see
but one feasible method--illegal, to be sure, and yet justifiable under
the circumstances. Someone must impersonate Philip Henley long
enough to permit the settlement of the estate."
I rose to my feet indignantly.
"And you thought I would consent? would be a party to this fraud?"
"Now, wait, Craig," as calmly as ever. "This is nothing to be ashamed
of, nor, so far as I can see, as a lawyer, does it involve danger. It will
make a man of Henley, reunite him with his wife if she still lives, and
give him standing in the world. Scattered about among charities the
Lord knows who it would benefit--a lot of beggars likely. We are
merely helping the boy to retain what is rightfully his. Don't throw this
chance away, hastily--ten thousand dollars is pretty good pay for a
couple of months' work."
I sank back into my chair undecided, yet caught by the glitter of the
promise. Why not? Surely, it would do no harm, and, if the
administrators were satisfied, what cause had I to object. They were
responsible, and, if they thought this the best course, I might just as

well take my profit. If not they would find someone else who would.
"But--but can that be done?" I asked hesitatingly.
Vail smiled, confident of my yielding.
"Easily," he assured. "Young Henley has been away five years; even
before that he was absent at school so much as to be practically
unknown except to the older servants. These have all been discharged,
and scattered. The wife is