# The Lost Mr. Linthwaite/Chapter 20
### CHAPTER XX
#### THE FEMININE INSTINCT

Brixey's look of inquiry showed Gaffkin that he did not wholly comprehend this suggestion, and he leaned across the table, tapping the papers which still lay there.
"You don't quite see what I mean," he said. "I mean this. Bring the money question right to the front, at once—to-morrow. Raise the question, publicly, as to the rights of Mrs. Byfield and her son in the Byfield estate. If that wouldn't pretty quickly solve the mystery about Mr. Linthwaite, then I don't know, at present, what would."
"How can we raise it?" asked Brixey. "We aren't concerned."
Gaffkin jerked his thumb towards a wall of the sitting-room behind which, as they both knew, lay Brackett's private parlour.
"There's somebody in there, or generally in there, who can," he said significantly. "Miss Georgina Byfield. She could raise a hornets' nest round the whole matter very quickly if she liked."
"How?" demanded Brixey.
"Well," replied Gaffkin, "roughly speaking, in this way. If my theory is correct as to Mrs. Byfield's marriages, the girl in the next room is certainly the rightful owner of the estate of the late Martin Byfield. Therefore, through legal channels, she can apply to the court for an order which would prevent Mrs. Byfield, as admimstratix, from doing anything with the assets of the estate until the whole affair has been gone into and decided.
"She'd have to prove, of course, that Mrs. Byfield is really the wife of Cradock Melsome, that her marriage to him has never been dissolved, that he's still alive, and that, accordingly, Mrs. Byfield is not and never was Mrs. Byfield, legally."
"We couldn't prove all that straight off," objected Brixey.
"No," assented Gaffkin, "but I think there's sufficient prima facie evidence in what we know from these papers and this book to warrant an application to the court. A smart solicitor would put the matter in shape and get such an_application made at once, in time to stop the handing over of his share to Fanshawe Byfield on Tuesday, when he comes of age.
"Only, if would have to be done at once—immediately. If Miss Georgina Byfield would give her consent, I'd engage to run up to town to-night and find a man who'd take it in hand and make an application to the court first thing to-morrow morning."
"That, means," said Brixey, slowly and thoughtfully, "that we should have to tell her all about it?"
"She's' an Intelligent young woman," answered Gaffkin, "Above the average, from what I've seen of her. It wouldn't take long to explain matters."
Brixey reflected for a while in silence.
"How would that help me to find my uncle?" he asked.
"It would force the other side to show its hand," replied Gaffkin. "My own notion is that if Mr. Linthwaite has been put away somewhere, as you feel sure he has, it’s because they want to keep him out of the way until Fanshawe Byfield has come into legal possession of his fortune, which will happen, automatically, by his coming-of-age on Tuesday.
"Now, if my theory about Mrs. Byfield's marriages is a good one, she would have to reveal the truth, and the additional truth about Mr. Linthwaite would necessarily come out.
"Money, Mr. Brixey, is at the bottom of all this—that money, the Byfield money; and when the secret about the money is solved, all the rest will be solved."
"I don't know, if she's the sort of girl who'd like all that publicity," remarked Brixey, after another thoughtful pause.
"It's the quickest and surest way that I can see," said Gaffkin.
"And supposing your theory's all wrong?" suggested Brixey.
"No harm' done," answered Gaffkin. "You often hear of questions being raised as to this sort of thing, especially in the case of intestates' estates. Put into a nutshell, it's this.
"We say that, legally, the woman calling herself Mrs. Martin Byfield is not Mrs. Martin Byfield at all, but is Mrs. Cradock Melsome, and therefore not entitled to administer Martin Byfield's estate nor to benefit in it.
"She'd have to prove the contrary. And, in my opinion, in whatever proceedings, even in their initial stages, resulted, Mr. Linthwaite would have to emerge. But any proceedings would have to originate from this young lady. If I'm right, she's next of kin."
Brixey, after thinking in silence for several minutes, got up and made for the door.
"I'll get her to come here, and well tell her," he said.
He went round by the deserted bar parlour to the private sitting-room which opened out of it. The door was slightly open; he looked in. Brackett, comfortably seated in his favourite easy chair, with a large silk handkerchief spread over head and face, was indulging in a Sunday afternoon nap.
In the old-fashioned window-seat, which looked out on the garden behind, Georgina Byfield was disposed in equal comfort, reading a novel. She glanced towards the door as Brixey put his head inside, and, laying aside her book, tiptoed out to him, with a warning glance in the old landlord's direction. Brixey motioned her into the bar parlour behind him.
"Can you give me ten minutes?" Brixey asked. "I want you to hear something that Gaffkin has to say. Something that's to be kept to ourselves, if you please, for the present, not to be mentioned to Mr. Brackett, for instance—just yet, anyway."
Georgina nodded in silence and followed him into his room, where he seated her at one end of the table, with Gaffkin and himself on either side of her.
"Mr. Gaffkin," said Brixey, indicating the papers and the book, "has made a discovery at Mr. Linthwaite's rooms in London which may affect you.
"Don't be alarmed!" he continued, as Georgina started in surprise."There's nothing really alarming in it. But, if Mr. Gaffkin’s right, this discovery does concern you, and it may help me to find my uncle. Now, in confidence, just let Gaffkin tell the whole story and explain the whole thing. Then we want to hear what you have to say."
Georgina sat quietly by, a model of attentive patience, while Gaffkin, for the second time that afternoon, unfolded his story and explained all its multifarious details. And Brixey, who knew if all, watched her carefully as she watched Gaffkin.
She showed no particular emotion or interest at any part of the story; her whole attitude and the expression of her eyes and lips denoted nothing but keen and almost cold attention. She might, indeed, thought Brixey, have been a judge, impartial and observant, listening to the opening address of counsel.
The theoretical revelations which had startled him did not seem to startle her; the suggestions which, if proved, would secure a complete reversal of her fortunes, seemed to arouse no excitement in her. But as the unfolding went on, her face grew graver and graver, and Brixey saw that she was putting facts together and weighing evidence, and bringing her instincts of feminine intuition and logic to bear.
But to what end he could not tell; her face, taking it altogether, was as sphinx-like at the end as at the beginning.
"So that's all!" concluded Gaffkin at last. "I've explained every things that I've already told Mr. Brixey. You understand it, Miss Byfield?
"Very well, then, as I've said to Mr. Brixey, if you like to move in the matter, on the evidence that these papers and so on seem to afford, then, in my opinion, there'll be some revelations. How do you feel about it?" he asked, glancing at Georgina with a professional curiosity. "There's a great deal to play for, you know!"
Georgina had for some minutes been slowly twisting an old-fashioned ring—a man's ring—round and round her finger, keeping her eyes steadily on it. Another minute or two passed before she looked up from this.
Then she looked straight at Gaffkin and from him to Brixey.
"No!" she said. "That's final. No!"
The two men looked at each other; then Brixey turned to Georgina.
"That means—what?" he asked.
"It means that I won't do anything against Mrs. Byfield and Fanshawe," she answered. "Supposing all that Mr. Gaffkin thinks is true—and perhaps I've reasons, and good reasons, for thinking it may be—I'm not going to do a thing in the way you suggest.
"I've no reason to like Mrs. Byfield, and as for Fanshawe, I've scarcely ever spoken to him since we were children. But Mrs. Byfield was a very good wife to my Uncle Martin—I do know that-and Fanshawe is his son, and—and—if there are any flaws in the affair, well——"
She paused for a moment and then, as both men watched her, went on swiftly.
"I should think it a great shame if she were done out of her rights, and if Fanshawe were done out of his," she said, showing some spirit at last. "It would he abominable! I'll have nothing to do with it—nothing!"
Brixey smacked the table.
"By Gad, you're right!" he exclaimed. "Good! You're right, all through. It would be just that—abominable! Gaffkin—that's clean off!"
Gaffkin smiled and shook his head.
"Sentiment, you know, Miss Byfield!" he said. "Sentiment, Mr. Brixey. But, of course, if Miss Byfield feels like that——"
"I do," said Georgina, and made for the door. Brixey followed her out. In the hall she paused and looked at him. "Don't go on with that!" she said. "I'd rather scrub floors all my life than try to turn those two out!"
"I shan't do anything," Brixey hastened to say. "No, indeed! I—the fact is, I feel as you do about it. I agree with you. It would be a shame. But, I say, there’s my uncle to consider, you know."
"Mayn't it be that your uncle's disappearance has nothing to do with Mrs. Byfield?" suggested Georgina. "If all that Mr. Gaffkin says is true, Mr. Mesham is a pretty bad lot. Doesn't it seem as if he might be the real culprit in all this—he and perhaps others?"
"It's a queer mix-up altogether," said Brixey perplexedly. And when Georgina left him he went back to Gaffkin and shook his head. "That won't do," he said. "You see—she'll have nothing to do with that line!"
"It may be taken up, all the same, though," observed Gaffkin. "My own opinion is that whoever takes it up it'll come out. I'd stake my professional opinion on this—there's something in it."
That evening, Gaffkin having gone out for a solitary stroll, Brixey remembered that he had promised to call again on Mr. Semmerby, and so went round to the old solicitor's house. And there, in Semmerby's parlour, evidently interrupted in a confidential talk with him, he found young Fanshawe Byfield.