THE DECISION

I had had time to think, swiftly to be sure, yet clearly enough.  Surprised as I was by her statement, yet the truth as thus revealed failed to startle me seriously.  Vaguely I had suspicioned the possibility before, not really believing it could be so, and yet struck by the similarity in circumstances of the two women.  Consequently the shock of final discovery was somewhat deadened, and I retained the pose of thought.  Moreover, to know her identity was an actual relief.  Before, I had half doubted the righteousness of my cause, at times almost felt myself a criminal.  Now that I could openly associate myself with Philip Henley’s wife, in a struggle to retain for her what was justly her own, all feeling of doubt vanished, and I became grimly confident of the final result.  Perhaps the relief I felt found expression in my face, for the woman exclaimed: 

“I believe you are actually glad; that it pleases you to know this.”

“It certainly does,” I replied swiftly, “for now I can work openly, knowing exactly what I ought to do.  I have felt like a rat skulking in a hole.  I believed what those men told me; they convinced me with proofs I could not ignore, but they must have lied.  In some details, at least, they must have deceived.  Now would it be possible for Philip Henley to be in a penitentiary convicted of crime?”

“It would not be,” she returned firmly.  “There was no time after I left him for an arrest and conviction.  That alone is sufficient to convince me of fraud and conspiracy.  More than that, Philip Henley was not one to commit a crime of that nature, and there was no reason why he should.  His remittances were amply sufficient.  Under the influence of liquor he might commit assault, or even murder, but never forgery.”

“Then what do you think has occurred?”

“Either one of two things,” she said soberly.  “He is dead, or helplessly in the power of those men who sent you here.  There is no other conclusion possible.  They had possession of his papers—­even his private memoranda.  They knew more of conditions here than I had ever been told.  In my judgment, he is dead.  Otherwise I cannot conceive it possible they would dare attempt to carry out such a conspiracy.  The very boldness of their plan convinces me they believed no one lived to expose them.  They knew he was dead, and believed, if I still lived, that I knew nothing of this inheritance.  The telegram announcing the Judge’s death I never saw.  It must have arrived while Philip was too intoxicated to grasp its meaning.”

“You know nothing then of the two men, Neale and Vail?”

“No; there is a Justus C. Vail, a lawyer in the city.  I found the name in the directory, and called at his office.  He was away making political speeches; had been gone two weeks.”

“Then the fellow assumed that name, thinking I might be familiar with it, and thus be impressed with the legality of the transaction.  As to Neale, I will go to the courthouse in this county, and find out about him.  Only first of all we must understand and trust each other.  We have got some shrewd villains to fight, men capable of resorting to desperate measures.  You have told me the whole truth about yourself now?”