The Strange Case of Cavendish Page 3

  CHAPTER III: MR. ENRIGHT DECLARES HIMSELF

  One month after the Cavendish murder and two days after he haddespatched a casual, courteous note to John Cavendish requesting thathe call, Mr. Patrick Enright, of Enright and Dougherty, sat in hisprivate office on the top floor of the Collander Building in CortlandtStreet waiting for the youth's appearance. Since young Cavendish hadconsulted him before in minor matters, Mr. Enright had expected that hewould call voluntarily soon after the murder, but in this he wasdisappointed. Realising that Broadway was very dear to the young man,Enright had made allowances, until, weary of waiting, he decided to getinto the game himself and to this end had despatched the note, to whichCavendish had replied both by telephone and note.

  "He ought to be here now," murmured Mr. Enright sweetly, looking at hiswatch, and soon the expected visitor was ushered in. Arising to hisfeet the attorney extended a moist, pudgy hand.

  "Quite prompt, John," he greeted. "Take the chair there--and pardon mea moment."

  As the youth complied Enright opened the door, glanced into the outerroom, and gave orders not to be disturbed for the next half-hour.Then, drawing in his head, closed the door and turned the key.

  "John," he resumed smoothly, "I have been somewhat surprised that youfailed to consult me earlier regarding the will of your late cousinFrederick."

  "His--his will!" John leaned forward amazed, as he stared into theother's expressionless face. "Did--did he leave one?"

  "Oh! that's it," the attorney chuckled. "You didn't know about it, didyou? How odd. I thought I informed you of the fact over the phone thesame night Frederick died."

  "You told me he had called upon you to prepare a will--but there wasnone found in his papers."

  "So I inferred from the newspaper accounts," Enright chuckled dryly,his eyes narrowing, "as well as the information that you had appliedfor letters of administration. In view of that, I thought a littlechat advisable--yes, quite advisable, since on the night of his death Idid draw up his will. Incidentally, I am the only one living awarethat such a will was drawn. You see my position?"

  Young Cavendish didn't; this was all strange, confusing.

  "The will," resumed Mr. Enright, "was drawn in proper form and dulywitnessed."

  "There can't be such a will. None was found. You phoned me shortlybefore midnight, and twenty minutes later Frederick was in hisapartments. He had no time to deposit it elsewhere. There is no suchwill."

  Enright smiled, not pleasantly by any means.

  "Possibly not," he said with quiet sinister gravity. "It was probablydestroyed and it was to gain possession of that will that FrederickCavendish was killed."

  John leaped to his feet, his face bloodless: "My God!" he mutteredaghast, "do you mean to say----"

  "Sit down, John; this is no cause for quarrel. Now listen. I am notaccusing you of crime; not intentional crime, at least. There is noreason why you should not naturally have desired to gain possession ofthe will. If an accident happened, that was your misfortune. I merelymention these things because I am your friend. Such friendship leadsme first to inform you what had happened over the phone. I realisedthat Frederick's hasty determination to devise his property elsewherewas the result of a quarrel. I believed it my duty to give youopportunity to patch that quarrel up with the least possible delay.Perhaps this was not entirely professional on my part, but the claimsof friendship are paramount to mere professional ethics."

  He sighed, clasping and unclasping his hands, yet with eyes steadilyfixed upon Cavendish, who had sunk back into his chair.

  "Now consider the situation, my dear fellow. I have, it is true,performed an unprofessional act which, if known, would expose me tosevere criticism. There is, however, no taint of criminal intent aboutmy conduct and, no doubt, my course would be fully vindicated, were Inow to go directly before the court and testify to the existence of awill."

  "But that could not be proved. You have already stated that Fredericktook the will with him; it has never been found."

  "Quite true--or rather, it may have been found, and destroyed. Itchances, however, that I took the precaution to make a carbon copy."

  "Unsigned?"

  "Yes, but along with this unsigned copy I also retain the originalmemoranda furnished me in Frederick Cavendish's own handwriting. Ibelieve, from a legal standpoint, by the aid of my evidence, the courtwould be very apt to hold such a will proved."

  He leaned suddenly forward, facing the shrinking Cavendish and bringinghis hand down hard upon the desk.

  "Do you perceive now what this will means? Do you realise where suchtestimony would place you? Under the law, providing he died without awill, you were the sole heir to the property of Frederick Cavendish.It was widely known you were not on friendly terms. The evening of hisdeath you quarrelled openly in a public restaurant. Later, in a spiritof friendship, I called you up and said he had made a will practicallydisinheriting you. Between that time and the next morning he ismurdered in his own apartments, his safe rifled, and yet, the onlypaper missing is this will, to the existence of which I can testify.If suspicion is once cast upon you, how can you clear yourself? Canyou prove that you were in your own apartments, asleep in your own bedfrom one o'clock until eight? Answer that."

  Cavendish tried, but although his lips moved, they gave utterance to nosound. He could but stare into those eyes confronting him. Enrightscarcely gave him opportunity.

  "So, the words won't come. I thought not. Now listen. I am not thatkind of a man and I have kept still. No living person--not even mypartner--has been informed of what has occurred. The witnesses, I amsure, do not know the nature of the paper they signed. I am a lawyer;I realise fully the relations I hold to my client, but in thisparticular case I contend that my duty as a man is of more importancethan any professional ethics. Frederick Cavendish had this willexecuted in a moment of anger and devised his estate to a number ofcharities. I personally believe he was not in normal mind and that thewill did not really reflect his purpose. He had no thought ofimmediate death, but merely desired to teach you a lesson. He proposedto disappear--or at least, that is my theory--in order that he mighttest you on a slender income. I am able to look upon the whole matterfrom this standpoint, and base my conduct accordingly. No doubt thiswill enable us to arrive at a perfectly satisfactory understanding."

  The lawyer's voice had fallen, all the threat gone, and the younger manstraightened in his chair.

  "You mean you will maintain silence as to the will?"

  "Absolutely; as a client your interests will always be my firstconcern. Of course I shall expect to represent you in a legal capacityin settling up the estate, and consequently feel it only just that thecompensation for such services shall be mutually agreed upon. In thiscase there are many interests to guard. Knowing, as I do, all theessential facts, I am naturally better prepared to conserve yourinterests than any stranger. I hope you appreciate this."

  "And your fee?"

  "Reasonable, very reasonable, when you consider the service I am doingyou, and the fact that my professional reputation might so easily beinvolved and the sums to be distributed, which amount to more than amillion dollars. My silence, my permitting the estate to go tosettlement, and my legal services combined, ought to be held as rathervaluable--at, let us say, a hundred thousand. Yes, a hundred thousand;I hardly think that is unfair."

  Cavendish leaped to his feet, his hand gripping his cane.

  "You damned black----"

  "Wait!" and Enright arose also. "Not so loud, please; your voice mightbe heard in the outer office. Besides it might be well for you to becareful of your language. I said my services would cost you a hundredthousand dollars. Take the proposition or leave it, Mr. JohnCavendish. Perhaps, with a moment's thought, the sum asked may notseem excessive."

  "But--but," the other stammered, all courage leaving him, "I haven'tthe money."

  "Of course not," the threat on Enright's face changing to a smile."But
the prospects that you will have are unusually good. I am quitewilling to speculate on your fortunes. A memoranda for legal servicesdue one year from date--such as I have already drawn up--and bearingyour signature, will be quite satisfactory. Glance over the items,please; yes, sit here at the table. Now, if you will sign that therewill be no further cause for you to feel any uneasiness--this line,please."

  Cavendish grasped the penholder in his fingers, and signed. It was theact of a man dazed, half stupefied, unable to control his actions.With trembling hand, and white face, he sat staring at the paper,scarcely comprehending its real meaning. In a way it was a confessionof guilt, an acknowledgment of his fear of exposure, yet he feltutterly incapable of resistance. Enright unlocked the door, andprojected his head outside, comprehending clearly that the proper timeto strike was while the iron was hot.

  Calling Miss Healey, one of his stenographers, he made her an officialwitness to the document and the signature of John Cavendish.

  Not until ten minutes later when he was on the street did it occur toJohn Cavendish that the carbon copy of the will, together with therough notes in his cousin's handwriting, still remained in Enright'spossession. Vainly he tried to force himself to return and demandthem, but his nerve failed, and he shuffled away hopelessly in thehurrying crowds.