"Oh--ah!--well, his real name was Martin Andrius, but he'd another name
for the stage," replied Addie. "We gave him the papers and arranged for
him to go down to Scarhaven to my father. Now I want to assure you all,
right here, that my father never did really know that Martin was an
imposter. He began to suspect something at the end, but he didn't know
for a fact. Martin went down to him at Scarhaven, just a week after the
real Marston Greyle had died. He claimed to be Marston Greyle, he
produced his papers. My father told about the Marston Greyle he'd
buried. Martin pooh-poohed that--he said that that man must be a
secretary of his, Mark Grey, who, after stealing some documents had left
him in New York and slipped across here, no doubt meaning to pass
himself off as the real man until he could get something substantial out
of the estate, when he'd have vanished. I tell you my father accepted
that story--why? Because he knew that if Miss Greyle there came into the
estate, she and her mother would have bundled Peter Chatfield out of his
stewardship quick."
"Proceed, if you please," said Sir Cresswell. "There are other details
about which I am anxious to hear."
"Meaning about your own brother," remarked Addie. "I'm coming to that.
Well, on his story and on his production of those papers--birth
certificates, Greyle papers of their life in America and so on--everybody
accepted Martin as the real man, and things seemed to go on smoothly till
that Sunday when Bassett Oliver had the bad luck to go to Scarhaven.
Pages:
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303