6. Alfred Nugent, stenographer (of Messrs. Castle's office, 21, Bream's Buildings, W.C.).
When the Will had been read, Mr. E. H. Melton asked the value of theestate left by the testator, which query I did not feel empowered orotherwise able to answer; and a further query, as to why those presentwere not shown the secret clauses of the Will. I answered by reading theinstructions endorsed on the envelopes of the two letters marked "B" and"C," which were sufficiently explanatory.
But, lest any question should hereafter arise as to the fact that thememoranda in letters marked "B" and "C," which were to be read as clauses10 and 11 of the Will, I caused Rupert Sent Leger to open the envelopemarked "B" in the presence of all in the room. These all signed a paperwhich I had already prepared, to the effect that they had seen theenvelope opened, and that the memorandum marked "B. To be read as clauseten of my Will," was contained in the envelope, of which it was to be thesole contents. Mr. Ernest Halbard Melton, J.P., before signing,carefully examined with a magnifying-glass, for which he had asked, boththe envelope and the heading of the memorandum enclosed in the letter.He was about to turn the folded paper which was lying on the table over,by which he might have been able to read the matter of the memorandum hadhe so desired. I at once advised him that the memorandum he was to signdealt only with the heading of the page, and not with the matter. Helooked very angry, but said nothing, and after a second scrutiny signed.I put the memorandum in an envelope, which we all signed across the flap.Before signing, Mr Ernest Halbard Melton took out the paper and verifiedit. I then asked him to close it, which he did, and when the sealing-waxwas on it he sealed it with his own seal. Sir Colin A. MacKelpie and Ialso appended our own seals. I put the envelope in another, which Isealed with my own seal, and my co-executor and I signed it across theflap and added the date. I took charge of this. When the others presenthad taken their departure, my co-executor and I, together with Mr. RupertSent Leger, who had remained at my request, went into my private room.
Here Mr. Rupert Sent Leger read the memorandum marked "B," which is to beread as clause 10 of the Will. He is evidently a man of considerablenerve, for his face was quite impassive as he read the document, whichconveyed to him (subject to the conditions laid down) a fortune which hasno equal in amount in Europe, even, so far as I know, amongst the crownedheads. When he had read it over a second time he stood up and said:
"I wish I had known my uncle better. He must have had the heart of aking. I never heard of such generosity as he has shown me. Mr. Trent, Isee, from the conditions of this memorandum, or codicil, or whatever itis, that I am to declare within a week as to whether I accept theconditions imposed on me. Now, I want you to tell me this: must I wait aweek to declare?" In answer, I told him that the testator's intentionwas manifestly to see that he had full time to consider fully every pointbefore making formal decision and declaration. But, in answer to thespecific question, I could answer that he might make declaration when hewould, provided it was _within_, or rather not after, the week named. Iadded:
"But I strongly advise you not to act hurriedly. So enormous a sum isinvolved that you may be sure that all possible efforts will be made bysomeone or other to dispossess you of your inheritance, and it will bewell that everything shall be done, not only in perfect order, but withsuch manifest care and deliberation that there can be no question as toyour intention."
"Thank you, sir," he answered; "I shall do as you shall kindly advise mein this as in other things. But I may tell you now--and you, too, mydear Sir Colin--that I not only accept my Uncle Roger's conditions inthis, but that when the time comes in the other matters I shall acceptevery condition that he had in his mind--and that I may know of--ineverything." He looked exceedingly in earnest, and it gave me muchpleasure to see and hear him. It was just what a young man should do whohad seen so generously treated. As the time had now come, I gave him thebulky letter addressed to him, marked "D" which I had in my safe. As Ifulfilled my obligation in the matter, I said:
"You need not read the letter here. You can take it away with you, andread it by yourself at leisure. It is your own property, without anyobligation whatever attached to it. By the way, perhaps it would be wellif you knew. I have a copy sealed up in an envelope, and endorsed, 'Tobe opened if occasion should arise,' but not otherwise. Will you see meto-morrow, or, better still, dine with me alone here to-night? I shouldlike to have a talk with you, and you may wish to ask me some questions."He answered me cordially. I actually felt touched by the way he saidgood-bye before he went away. Sir Colin MacKelpie went with him, as SentLeger was to drop him at the Reform.
_Letter from Roger Melton to Rupert Sent Leger_, _endorsed_ "_D. reRupert Sent Leger_. _To be given to him by Edward Bingham Trent if andas soon as he has declared_ (_formally or informally_) _his intention ofaccepting the conditions named in Letter B._, _forming Clause_ 10 _in myWill_. _R. M._, 1/1/'07.
"_Mem._--Copy (sealed) left in custody of E. B. Trent, to be opened ifnecessary, as directed."
_June_ 11, 1906.
My Dear Nephew,
When (if ever) you receive this you will know that (with the exception of some definite bequests) I have left to you, under certain conditions, the entire bulk of my fortune--a fortune so great that by its aid as a help, a man of courage and ability may carve out for himself a name and place in history. The specific conditions contained in Clause 10 of my Will have to be observed, for such I deem to be of service to your own fortune; but herein I give my advice, which you are at liberty to follow or not as you will, and my wishes, which I shall try to explain fully and clearly, so that you may be in possession of my views in case you should desire to carry them out, or, at least, to so endeavour that the results I hope for may be ultimately achieved. First let me explain--for your understanding and your guidance--that the power, or perhaps it had better be called the pressure, behind the accumulation of my fortune has been ambition. In obedience to its compulsion, I toiled early and late until I had so arranged matters that, subject to broad supervision, my ideas could be carried out by men whom I had selected and tested, and not found wanting. This was for years to the satisfaction, and ultimately to the accumulation by these men of fortune commensurate in some measure to their own worth and their im
portance to my designs. Thus I had accumulated, whilst still a young man, a considerable fortune. This I have for over forty years used sparingly as regards my personal needs, daringly with regard to speculative investments. With the latter I took such very great care, studying the conditions surrounding them so thoroughly, that even now my schedule of bad debts or unsuccessful investments is almost a blank. Perhaps by such means things flourished with me, and wealth piled in so fast that at times I could hardly use it to advantage. This was all done as the forerunner of ambition, but I was over fifty years of age when the horizon of ambition itself opened up to me. I speak thus freely, my dear Rupert, as when you read it I shall have passed away, and not ambition nor the fear of misunderstanding, nor even of scorn can touch me. My ventures in commerce and finance covered not only the Far East, but every foot of the way to it, so that the Mediterranean and all its opening seas were familiar to me. In my journeyings up and down the Adriatic I was always struck by the great beauty and seeming richness--native richness--of the Land of the Blue Mountains. At last Chance took me into that delectable region. When the "Balkan Struggle" of '90 was on, one of the great Voivodes came to me in secret to arrange a large loan for national purposes. It was known in financial circles of both Europe and Asia that I took an active part in the _haute politique_ of national treasuries, and the Voivode Vissarion came to me as to one able and willing to carry out his wishes. After confidential pour-parlers, he explained to me that his nation was in the throes of a great crisis. As you perhaps know, the gallant little Nation in the Land of the Blue Mountains has had a strange history. For more than a thousand years--ever since its settlement after the disaster of Rossoro--it had maintained its national independence under several forms of Government. At first it had a King whose successors became so despotic that they were dethroned. Then it was governed by its Voivodes, with the combining influence of a Vladika somewhat similar in power and function to the Prince-Bishops of Montenegro; afterwards by a Prince; or, as at present, by an irregular elective Council, influenced in a modified form by the Vladika, who was then supposed to exercise a purely spiritual function. Such a Council in a small, poor nation did not have sufficient funds for armaments, which were not immediately and imperatively necessary; and therefore the Voivode Vissarion, who had vast estates in his own possession, and who was the present representative a family which of old had been leaders in the land, found it a duty to do on his own account that which the State could not do. For security as to the loan which he wished to get, and which was indeed a vast one, he offered to sell me his whole estate if I would secure to him a right to repurchase it within a given time (a time which I may say has some time ago expired). He made it a condition that the sale and agreement should remain a strict secret between us, as a widespread knowledge that his estate had changed hands would in all probability result in my death and his own at the hands of the mountaineers, who are beyond everything loyal, and were jealous to the last degree. An attack by Turkey was feared, and new armaments were required; and the patriotic Voivode was sacrificing his own great fortune for the public good. What a sacrifice this was he well knew, for in all discussions regarding a possible change in the Constitution of the Blue Mountains it was always taken for granted that if the principles of the Constitution should change to a more personal rule, his own family should be regarded as the Most Noble. It had ever been on the side of freedom in olden time; before the establishment of the Council, or even during the rule of the Voivodes, the Vissarion had every now and again stood out against the King or challenged the Princedom. The very name stood for freedom, for nationality, against foreign oppression; and the bold mountaineers were devoted to it, as in other free countries men follow the flag.
Such loyalty was a power and a help in the land, for it knew danger in every form; and anything which aided the cohesion of its integers was a natural asset. On every side other powers, great and small, pressed the land, anxious to acquire its suzerainty by any means--fraud or force. Greece, Turkey, Austria, Russia, Italy, France, had all tried in vain. Russia, often hurled back, was waiting an opportunity to attack. Austria and Greece, although united by no common purpose or design, were ready to throw in their forces with whomsoever might seem most likely to be victor. Other Balkan States, too, were not lacking in desire to add the little territory of the Blue Mountains to their more ample possessions. Albania, Dalmatia, Herzegovina, Servia, Bulgaria, looked with lustful eyes on the land, which was in itself a vast natural fortress, having close under its shelter perhaps the finest harbour between Gibraltar and the Dardanelles.
But the fierce, hardy mountaineers were unconquerable. For centuries they had fought, with a fervour and fury that nothing could withstand or abate, attacks on their independence. Time after time, century after century, they had opposed with dauntless front invading armies sent against them. This unquenchable fire of freedom had had its effect. One and all, the great Powers knew that to conquer that little nation would be no mean task, but rather that of a tireless giant. Over and over again had they fought with units against hundreds, never ceasing until they had either wiped out their foes entirely or seen them retreat across the frontier in diminished numbers.
For many years past, however, the Land of the Blue Mountains had remained unassailable, for all the Powers and States had feared lest the others should unite against the one who should begin the attack.
At the time I speak of there was a feeling throughout the Blue Mountains--and, indeed, elsewhere--that Turkey was preparing for a war of offence. The objective of her attack was not known anywhere, but here there was evidence that the Turkish "Bureau of Spies" was in active exercise towards their sturdy little neighbour. To prepare for this, the Voivode Peter Vissarion approached me in order to obtain the necessary "sinews of war."
The situation was complicated by the fact that the Elective Council was at present largely held together by the old Greek Church, which was the religion of the people, and which had had since the beginning its destinies linked in a large degree with theirs. Thus it was possible that if a war should break out, it might easily become--whatever might have been its cause or beginnings--a war of creeds. This in the Balkans must be largely one of races, the end of which no mind could diagnose or even guess at.
I had now for some time had knowledge of the country and its people, and had come to love them both. The nobility of Vissarion's self-sacrifice at once appealed to me, and I felt that I, too, should like to have a hand in the upholding of such a land and such a people. They both deserved freedom. When Vissarion handed me the completed deed of sale I was going to tear it up; but he somehow recognized my intention, and forestalled it. He held up his hand arrestingly as he said:
"I recognize your purpose, and, believe me, I honour you for it from the very depths of my soul. But, my friend, it must not be. Our mountaineers are proud beyond belief. Though they would allow me--who am one of themselves, and whose fathers have been in some way leaders and spokesmen amongst them for many centuries--to do all that is in my power to do--and what, each and all, they would be glad to do were the call to them--they would not accept aid from one outside themselves. My good friend, they would resent it, and might show to you, who wish us all so well, active hostility, which might end in danger, or even death. That was why, my friend, I asked to put a clause in our agreement, that I might have right to repurchase my estate, regarding which you would fain act so generously."
Thus it is, my dear nephew Rupert, only son of my dear sister, that I hereby charge you solemnly as you value me--as you value yourself--as you value honour, that, should it
ever become known that that noble Voivode, Peter Vissarion, imperilled himself for his country's good, and if it be of danger or evil repute to him that even for such a purpose he sold his heritage, you shall at once and to the knowledge of the mountaineers--though not necessarily to others--reconvey to him or his heirs the freehold that he was willing to part with--and that he has _de facto_ parted with by the effluxion of the time during which his right of repurchase existed. This is a secret trust and duty which is between thee and me alone in the first instance; a duty which I have undertaken on behalf of my heirs, and which must be carried out, at whatsoever cost may ensue. You must not take it that it is from any mistrust of you or belief that you will fail that I have taken another measure to insure that this my cherished idea is borne out. Indeed, it is that the law may, in case of need--for no man can know what may happen after his own hand be taken from the plough--be complied with, that I have in another letter written for the guidance of others, directed that in case of any failure to carry out this trust--death or other--the direction become a clause or codicil to my Will. But in the meantime I wish that this be kept a secret between us two. To show you the full extent of my confidence, let me here tell you that the letter alluded to above is marked "C," and directed to my solicitor and co-executor, Edward Bingham Trent, which is finally to be regarded as clause eleven of my Will. To which end he has my instructions and also a copy of this letter, which is, in case of need, and that only, to be opened, and is to be a guide to my wishes as to the carrying out by you of the conditions on which you inherit.
And now, my dear nephew, let me change to another subject more dear to me--yourself. When you read this I shall have passed away, so that I need not be hampered now by that reserve which I feel has grown upon me through a long and self-contained life. Your mother was very dear to me. As you know, she was twenty years younger than her youngest brother, who was two years younger than me. So we were all young men when she was a baby, and, I need not say, a pet amongst us--almost like our own child to each of us, as well as our sister. You knew her sweetness and high quality, so I need say nothing of these; but I should like you to understand that she was very dear to me. When she and your father came to know and love each other I was far away, opening up a new branch of business in the interior of China, and it was not for several months that I got home news. When I first heard of him they had already been married. I was delighted to find that they were very happy. They needed nothing that I could give. When he died so suddenly I tried to comfort her, and all I had was at her disposal, did she want it. She was a proud woman--though not with me. She had come to understand that, though I seemed cold and hard (and perhaps was so generally), I was not so to her. But she would not have help of any kind. When I pressed her, she told me that she had enough for your keep and education and her own sustenance for the time she must still live; that your father and she had agreed that you should be brought up to a healthy and strenuous life rather than to one of luxury; and she thought that it would be better for the development of your character that you should learn to be self-reliant and to be content with what your dear father had left you. She had always been a wise and thoughtful girl, and now all her wisdom and thought were for you, your father's and her child. When she spoke of you and your future, she said many things which I thought memorable. One of them I remember to this day. It was apropos of my saying that there is a danger of its own kind in extreme poverty. A young man might know too much want. She answered me: "True! That is so! But there is a danger that overrides it;" and after a time went on:
"It is better not to know wants than not to know want!" I tell you, boy, that is a great truth, and I hope you will remember it for yourself as well as a part of the wisdom of your mother. And here let me say something else which is a sort of corollary of that wise utterance:
I dare say you thought me very hard and unsympathetic that time I would not, as one of your trustees, agree to your transferring your little fortune to Miss MacKelpie. I dare say you bear a grudge towards me about it up to this day. Well, if you have any of that remaining, put it aside when you know the truth. That request of yours was an unspeakable delight to me. It was like your mother coming back from the dead. That little letter of yours made me wish for the first time that I had a son--and that he should be like you. I fell into a sort of reverie, thinking if I were yet too old to marry, so that a son might be with me in my declining years--if such were to ever be for me. But I concluded that this might not be. There was no woman whom I knew or had ever met with that I could love as your mother loved your father and as he loved her. So I resigned myself to my fate. I must go my lonely road on to the end. And then came a ray of light into my darkness: there was you. Though you might not feel like a son to me--I could not expect it when the memory of that sweet relationship was more worthily filled. But I could feel like a father to you. Nothing could prevent that or interfere with it, for I would keep it as my secret in the very holy of holies of my heart, where had been for thirty years the image of a sweet little child--your mother. My boy, when in your future life you shall have happiness and honour and power, I hope you will sometimes give a thought to the lonely old man whose later years your very existence seemed to brighten.
The thought of your mother recalled me to my duty. I had undertaken for her a sacred task: to carry out her wishes regarding her son. I knew how she would have acted. It might--would--have been to her a struggle of inclination and duty; and duty would have won. And so I carried out my duty, though I tell you it was a harsh and bitter task to me at the time. But I may tell you that I have since been glad when I think of the result. I tried, as you may perhaps remember, to carry out your wishes in another way, but your letter put the difficulty of doing so so clearly before me that I had to give it up. And let me tell you that that letter endeared you to me more than ever.
I need not tell you that thenceforth I followed your life very closely. When you ran away to sea, I used in secret every part of the mechanism of commerce to find out what had become of you. Then, until you had reached your majority, I had a constant watch kept upon you--not to interfere with you in any way, but so that I might be able to find you should need arise. When in due course I heard of your first act on coming of age I was satisfied. I had to know of the carrying out of your original intention towards Janet Mac Kelpie, for the securities had to be transferred.
From that time on I watched--of course through other eyes--your chief doings. It would have been a pleasure to me to have been able to help in carrying out any hope or ambition of yours, but I realized that in the years intervening between your coming of age and the present moment you were fulfilling your ideas and ambitions in your own way, and, as I shall try to explain to you presently, my ambitions also. You were of so adventurous a nature that even my own widely-spread machinery of acquiring information--what I may call my private "intelligence department"--was inadequate. My machinery was fairly adequate for the East--in great part, at all events. But you went North and South, and West also, and, in addition, you essayed realms where commerce and purely real affairs have no foothold--worlds of thought, of spiritual import, of psychic phenomena--speaking generally, of mysteries. As now and again I was baffled in my inquiries, I had to enlarge my mechanism, and to this end started--not in my own name, of course--some new magazines devoted to certain branches of inquiry and adventure. Should you ever care to know more of these things, Mr. Trent, in whose name the stock is left, will be delighted to give you all details. Indeed, these stocks, like all else I have, shall be yours when the time comes, if you care to ask for the
m. By means of _The Journal of Adventure_, _The Magazine of Mystery_, _Occultism_, _Balloon and Aeroplane_, _The Submarine_, _Jungle and Pampas_, _The Ghost World_, _The Explorer_, _Forest and Island_, _Ocean and Creek_, I was often kept informed when I should otherwise have been ignorant of your whereabouts and designs. For instance, when you had disappeared into the Forest of the Incas, I got the first whisper of your strange adventures and discoveries in the buried cities of Eudori from a correspondent of _The Journal of Adventure_ long before the details given in _The Times_ of the rock-temple of the primeval savages, where only remained the little dragon serpents, whose giant ancestors were rudely sculptured on the sacrificial altar. I well remember how I thrilled at even that meagre account of your going in alone into that veritable hell. It was from _Occultism_ that I learned how you had made a stay alone in the haunted catacombs of Elora, in the far recesses of the Himalayas, and of the fearful experiences which, when you came out shuddering and ghastly, overcame to almost epileptic fear those who had banded themselves together to go as far as the rock-cut approach to the hidden temple.