Chapter XXXVII: Contains the Conclusion

THUS far the treasure was ours. That same night we all three returned to London by the last train, the big black van containing the treasure being coupled with us at the rear, while just before two o’clock next morning I had the satisfaction of seeing the whole of it safely placed in my sitting-room at Keppel Street, much to Mrs. Richardson’s wonderment as to what the heavy sealed packages could contain.

Usher constituted himself guard of the treasure, and early next morning I went to Cornwall Road and informed Dorothy of our success and of her good fortune.

“It is true, Paul, that I was fond of Charles Wooton, not knowing that he was my brother, and it is equally true that I induced him to accept the invitation to supper at Kilburn which Bennett gave him. But I never dreamed that those men intended to kill him until Martin made me enter the room against my will, and I saw the poor fellow lying dead—stabbed to the heart. But I see it all now! I see why Bennett and Purvis were constantly declaring that I was morally responsible for his death. It was because Purvis intended to compel me, by threats of exposing my secret, to marry him.”

I quite agreed with her that she had been the victim of a most clever and ingenious conspiracy, which had only failed because of our constant perseverance in the pursuit of the treasure; and then, as I bent to kiss my love upon the lips, I told her what was the absolute truth, namely, that I had all along believed in her innocence.

“I love you, Dorothy,” I repeated. “I have loved you ever since that night when by the intercession of Providence you saved my life. Therefore, do not think that Franklin’s revelations influence me in the least.”

“Ah, Paul, you are indeed generous!” she cried, springing up and clinging to me. “I—I feared that you would think ill of me—that you would believe I invited Charles there knowing that he was to be their victim.”

“I am well aware that such was not a fact,” I said seriously, bending to kiss her ready lips again. “You met him, but did not know he was your brother—you knew nothing of the careful and ingenious plan of that man Purvis who posed as your guardian, and who intended to marry you if occasion demanded.”

“They killed my brother,” she remarked reflectively, as though speaking to herself. “My poor brother, of whose very existence I was in ignorance!”

“They constituted you heiress on purpose!” I said. “But we shall be even with them before long, never fear. When did you see them last.”

“I saw Bennett a week ago,” was her reply. “I met him quite accidentally in St. Paul’s Churchyard.”

I had previously related to her all that the rascally solicitor had told me regarding the fresh plot against my life, and she now urged me to be wary.

“I am only awaiting their appointment,” I said laughing. “It will be the last they will make outside a gaol.”

“But do be careful, Paul,” she, urged, with all a woman’s solicitude for the safety of her lover. I told her, however, to have no fear.

Two hours later she was at Chelsea assisting us to open the great chests and examine their dazzling contents.

I had called at a famous dealer’s in Piccadilly, and in confidence obtained the assistance of an expert, who now stood with us absolutely bewildered at the magnificence of the jewels. Some of the gems, he declared, were without equal—the finest he had ever seen.

But I may, I think, pass over that morning spent in examining our find. Let it suffice to say that the expert went back to Piccadilly, declaring that the collection was worth a very considerable sum, and hoping that his firm might have the offer of purchasing a portion, if not the whole of it.

At three o’clock, after Dorothy had lunched with Usher and myself in Mrs. Richardson’s sitting-room, my own being filled to overflowing, the servant handed me a telegram, which read—

“Miss Drummond has met with accident. Wishes to see you immediately.—Clark, 76, Lavender Road, Battersea.”

It was the invitation into the fatal trap! I showed it to Dorothy and to Usher, and while the former grew serious and apprehensive, the latter laughed outright.

* * * * *

At four o’clock, accompanied by Usher, Reilly, and two police officers in plain clothes from the Chelsea Station, I reached the corner of Lavender Road and York Road, where I took leave of my companions and went in search of No. 76. It was a small, eight-roomed house, one of a long row of similar dwellings, and when I knocked and inquired for Mr. Clark, the rough-looking lad who opened the door at once invited me inside.

The moment, however, that I stepped within the small hall I found myself seized by two men, who sprang from a room on the left; but almost before I had time to realize my situation I heard a scuffle behind, and saw that the detectives had entered behind me before the lad could close the door. An instant later Reilly and Usher were also on the scene, while Bennett and Harding, who had seized me, let go their hold and rushed to the back of the premises. It was an exciting moment.

We had taken the ruffians completely by surprise, yet Bennett, with his usual cunning, tried to make good his escape. While Harding ran out into the back yard and was captured by Reilly and Usher in the act of climbing the wall, Bennett with fierce determination rushed up to the top of the house and out on the roof, followed by the police officers.

Over the roofs he ran for a long distance as nimbly as a cat, followed closely by the detectives until they came to where two houses were divided by a narrow lane a few feet wide. Then Bennett, finding himself hard pressed and seeing the gulf before him, took a flying leap. His feet touched the gutter on the opposite side, and for a moment we thought he had escaped.

A second later, however, we heard a crack, and saw him clutch wildly at air as the gutter gave way beneath his weight, and he fell backwards to the ground, striking his skull heavily upon the paving.

The neighbourhood is thickly populated, and ere we could reach the spot a great crowd had collected. Very soon, however, the truth was plain. I examined him quickly, and found his neck broken. Death had been almost instantaneous.

Hurriedly we returned to No. 76 amid great local commotion, and found that although Purvis, who had been concealed in one of the upstair rooms, had succeeded in escaping, my friends were holding Harding prisoner. An inspection of the house showed that preparations had been made to assassinate me—indeed, there was a large air-tight travelling chest already prepared to receive my body! They evidently intended to dispose of me in the same manner as Charles Wollerton.

Harding was taken to the police station, and search among the left luggage at Euston resulted in the discovery of the trunk with its gruesome contents, as Franklin had confessed. Purvis has, up to the present, successfully eluded the police, but is believed to be abroad. Harding was eventually tried at the Old Bailey for being implicated in the murder and sentenced to ten years’ penal servitude, while the last heard of Franklin was that he had been arrested a year ago in Glasgow and sent to prison on a charge of forging cheques.

As for Black Bennett, the just hand of Heaven had fallen swiftly upon him, rendering man’s justice unnecessary.

* * * * *

Every fact that Franklin had related we discovered to be true. The proofs held by Mr. Burrell at Oundle proved most clearly that Dorothy was the youngest descendant of old Clement Wollerton, hence none could dispute her splendid inheritance.

A few days after that exciting chase in Battersea Reilly, Usher, and Mr. Staffurth assisted me to go through the treasure and check it by the long list written in the vellum book. We found, to our satisfaction, that it was intact.

Within a month, with Dorothy’s authority, we had disposed of all of it save a few of the most valuable ornaments, which she kept for her own use. The firm in Piccadilly were the principal purchasers of the coins and diamonds, but much of the remainder was sold by auction at Christie’s and other sale-rooms and realized very high prices, while a quantity of it has now found its way into the British Museum and other similar institutions.

The chestful of gold coins bequeathed to me as finder realized a little over £1,000, and out of this I paid for the dilapidations at Caldecott Manor—which is, by the way, now reoccupied by a highly respected gentleman and his wife—and made presents to my friends, Job Seal included, augmented, of course, by Dorothy herself.

* * * * *

And the rest? Need I tell you? I think not. All I shall say further is that within two months of our sudden fortune Dorothy, whom I had loved long before I knew her to be heiress of the treasure, married me at Hampstead, where we now live—in Fitzjohn’s Avenue, to be exact—leading an idyllic life of peace and love. If you pass up the thoroughfare in question you will probably notice the name, “Mr. Pickering, Surgeon,” upon a brass plate, for although the sum realized by the sale of the jewels has provided us with a comfortable income for life, yet I am not by any means an idle man.

So careful have we been to preserve our secret that to those who know us and may chance to read this narrative, the truth will come as an entire surprise. Our love is perfect, for surely no couple could be happier than we are. When at evening I sit at the fireside gazing at the sweet, smiling face of my devoted wife, I often reflect upon those dark days of anxiety and despair—the days of my love’s thraldom and of my own desperate endeavour to solve the mystery. Before me there hang, in black frames, the parchment with the seven signatures and the ancient diploma with leaden seal which I discovered with it, and whenever I look up at them my memory runs back to the potency of that simple number three—that numeral scrawled in faded ink which revealed to us “THE TICKENCOTE TREASURE.”

THE END.

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THE COTTAGE IN THE CHINE.

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THE RACE OF LIFE.

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A BID FOR FREEDOM.

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A TWO-FOLD INHERITANCE.

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MY STRANGEST CASE.

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FAREWELL, NIKOLA.

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LONG LIVE THE KING.

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THE RED RAT’S DAUGHTER.

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LOVE MADE MANIFEST.

THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—“One of those tales of exciting
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PHAROS THE EGYPTIAN.

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ACROSS THE WORLD FOR A WIFE.

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‘Dr. Nikola’ in the list of Mr. Boothby’s novels.”

THE LUST OF HATE.

THE DAILY GRAPHIC.—“Whoever wants dramatic interest let
him read ‘The Lust of Hate.’”

THE FASCINATION OF THE KING.

THE BRISTOL MERCURY.—“Unquestionably the best work we
have yet seen from the pen of Mr. Guy Boothby.”

DR. NIKOLA.

THE SCOTSMAN.—“One hairbreadth escape succeeds another
with rapidity that scarce leaves the reader breathing
space.”

THE BEAUTIFUL WHITE DEVIL.

THE YORKSHIRE POST.—“A more exciting romance no man
could reasonably ask for.”

A BID FOR FORTUNE.

THE MANCHESTER COURIER.—“It is impossible to give any
idea of the verve with which the story is told. The most
original novel of the year.”

IN STRANGE COMPANY.

THE WORLD.—“A capital novel. It has the quality of life
and stir, and will carry the reader with curiosity
unabated to the end.”

THE MARRIAGE OF ESTHER.

THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—“There is a vigour and a power
of illusion about it that raises it quite above the
level of the ordinary novel of adventure.”

BUSHIGRAMS.

THE MANCHESTER GUARDIAN.—“Intensely interesting. Forces
from us, by its powerful artistic realism, those choky
sensations which it should be the aim of the human
writer to elicit, whether in comedy or tragedy.”

SHEILAH McLEOD.

MR. W. L. ALDEN IN THE NEW YORK TIMES.—“Mr. Boothby can
crowd more adventure into a square foot of canvas than
any other novelist.”

DR. NIKOLA’S EXPERIMENT.

Illustrated by Sidney Cowell.

THE MAN OF THE CRAG.

ARTHUR W. MARCHMONT

IN THE NAME OF THE PEOPLE.

NORTH DEVON JOURNAL.—“A novel of absorbing interest.
The plot is developed very cleverly, and there is a
delightful love theme.”

IN THE CAUSE OF FREEDOM.

THE DAILY TELEGRAPH.—“A well-sustained and thrilling
narrative.”

THE LITTLE ANARCHIST.

THE SCOTSMAN.—“A romance brimful of incident and
arousing in the reader a healthy interest that carries
him along with never a pause.”

AN IMPERIAL MARRIAGE.

SCOTSMAN.—“The action never flags, the romantic element
is always paramount, so that the production is bound to
appeal successfully to all lovers of spirited fiction.”

BERTRAM MITFORD

SELMIN OF SELMINGFOLD.

FINANCIAL TIMES.—“A combination of sentiment and love
interest with the more practical and serious side of
life unite to make this novel of a singularly
interesting nature, and we are confident that it will
meet with great popularity.”

THE RIVER OF UNREST.

SCOTSMAN.—“Mr. Mitford brings forward with excellent
effect his knowledge of nature, customs and tradition.
The product is a tale rich in incident and character,
set against an effective background of savagery and
mystery.”

A DUAL RESURRECTION.

READING STANDARD.—“The novel reader who loves a really
good novel full of desperate adventure will never be
disappointed when Mr. Mitford’s books are in question.
This is a strong and clever piece of work, the plot is
ingenious and the characterization uncommonly well
done.”

SEAFORD’S SNAKE.

MADAME.—“If you like well-written stories of adventure
you should get Mr. Mitford’s latest novel. The
characters are well portrayed, the story written in a
brisk, virile style that proves very attractive.”

HEATH HOVER MYSTERY.

TIMES.—“A capital mystery and detective story, with
some exciting scenes in India.”

JOSEPH HOCKING

THE PRINCE OF THIS WORLD.

THE FINANCIAL TIMES.—“A strong knowledge of human
nature, for which Mr. Hocking is famous, is well
portrayed in the pages of this novel, and this, in
conjunction with the interesting nature of the plot,
renders it particularly successful. The book will be
appreciated by novel readers.”

ROGER TREWINION.

T. P.’S WEEKLY.—“It is a foregone conclusion that Mr.
Hocking will always have a good story to tell. ‘Roger
Trewinion’ can stand forth with the best, a strong love
interest, plenty of adventure, an atmosphere of
superstition, and Cornwall as the scene.”

THE COMING OF THE KING.

THE GLASGOW HERALD.—“Mr. Hocking’s imagination is
fertile, and his skill in the arrangement of incident
far above the average, and there is an air of reality in
all his writing which is peculiarly charming.”

ESAU.

THE OUTLOOK.—“Remarkable for the dramatic power with
which the scenes are drawn and the intense human
interest which Mr. Hocking has woven about his
characters. ‘Esau’ is sure to be one of the novels of
the season.”

GREATER LOVE.

THE NEWCASTLE CHRONICLE.—“Though of a totally different
character from ‘Lest We Forget,’ Mr. Hocking’s latest
story is entitled to take rank along with that fine
romance.”

LEST WE FORGET.

PUBLIC OPINION.—“His story is quite as good as any we
have read of the Stanley Weyman’s school, and presents
an excellent picture of the exciting times of Gardiner
and Bonner.”

AND SHALL TRELAWNEY DIE?

THE WEEKLY SUN.—“An engaging and fascinating romance.
The reader puts the story down with a sigh, and wishes
there were more of these breezy Cornish uplands, for Mr.
Joseph Hocking’s easy style of narrative does not soon
tire.”

JABEZ EASTERBROOK.

THE ROCK.—“Real strength is shown in the sketches, of
which that of Brother Bowman is most prominent. In its
way it is delightful.”

THE WEAPONS OF MYSTERY. 3s. 6d.

“Weapons of Mystery” is a singularly powerful story of
occult influences and of their exertion for evil
purposes.

ZILLAH: A ROMANCE.

THE SPECTATOR.—“The drawing of some of the characters
indicates the possession by Mr. Hocking of a
considerable gift of humour. The contents of his book
indicate that he takes a genuine interest in the deeper
problems of the day.”

THE MONK OF MAR-SABA.

THE STAR.—“Great power and thrilling interest. . . .
The scenery of the Holy Land has rarely been so vividly
described as in this charming book of Mr. Hocking’s.”

THE PURPLE ROBE.

THE QUEEN.—“It is exceedingly clever, and excites the
reader’s interest and brings out the powerful nature of
the clever young minister. This most engrossing book
challenges comparison with the brilliance of Lothair.”

THE SCARLET WOMAN.

THE METHODIST RECORDER.—“This is Mr. Hocking’s
strongest and best book. We advise every one to read it.
The plot is simple, compact and strenuous; the writing
powerful.”

ALL MEN ARE LIARS.

THE CHRISTIAN WORLD.—“This is a notable book.
Thoughtful people will be fascinated by its actuality,
its fearlessness, and the insight it gives into the
influence of modern thought and literature upon the
minds and morals of our most promising manhood.”

ISHMAEL PENGELLY: AN OUTCAST.

THE ATHENÆUM.—“The book is to be recommended for the
dramatic effectiveness of some of the scenes. The wild,
half-mad woman is always picturesque wherever she
appears, and the rare self-repression of her son is
admirably done.”

THE STORY OF ANDREW FAIRFAX.

THE MANCHESTER EXAMINER.—“Rustic scenes and characters
are drawn with free, broad touches, without Mr.
Buchanan’s artificiality, and, if we may venture to say
it, with more realism than Mr. Hardy’s country
pictures.”

THE BIRTHRIGHT.

THE SPECTATOR.—“‘The Birthright’ is, in its way, quite
as well constructed, as well written, and as full of
incident as any story that has come from the pen of Sir
Conan Doyle or Mr. Stanley Weyman.”

MISTRESS NANCY MOLESWORTH.

THE SCOTSMAN.—“‘Mistress Nancy Molesworth’ is as
charming a story of the kind as could be wished, and it
excels in literary workmanship as well as in imaginative
vigour and daring invention.”

FIELDS OF FAIR RENOWN.

THE DUNDEE ADVERTISER.—“Mr. Hocking has produced a work
which his readers of all classes will appreciate....
There are exhibited some of the most beautiful aspects
of disposition.”

GOD AND MAMMON.

THE LITERARY WORLD.—“The hero of Mr. Hocking’s latest
novel is a clever young country lawyer. The story is
vigorously told, his struggles, his success and his love
affairs are vividly described, while a strong religious
tone pervades the book.”

* * * * *

Transcriber’s Notes:

Spelling and hyphenation have been left as in the original. A few obvious typesetting errors have been corrected without note.

[The end of _The Tickencote Treasure_ by William Le Queue]

End of Project Gutenberg's The Tickencote Treasure, by William Le Queux