• CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR •
Dear Father:
At last it is me who is writing to you. This, though I am leaving, is not a letter of goodbye. A time comes when every son must leave his father’s house.
I know that, even though I will not be far away, they will use my leaving against you. They will say, no matter what I say, that I am leaving because I no longer believe that you and I made it to the pole. Whatever they say, no matter what happens, I shall not abandon you. I think you are right that Peary did not reach the pole, though it seems absurd to say so. Like saying that I think you are more entitled to fake that accomplishment than he is.
I shall never speak again to anyone but you about the pole, though I must tell you that I have told Lily and Kristine everything. You have nothing to fear from them.
It is not because of Peary that I will keep your secret. I have decided simply to turn away from Peary. Whether, in your circumstances, I could do so is something I will never know. It would therefore be presumptuous of me to judge you, or even to offer you advice.
All I can offer you is love and gratitude. You gave me life. Before we met, before you knew that we would ever meet, before I had even heard of you, you saved my life.
I will have more, much more, to say when we meet again, which will be very soon.
Love,
Devlin
He and Mrs. Cook departed the day after I left the letter for him on his desk. I got up and went to his study, intending to say goodbye, to tell him I would be leaving the house that day, but he was not there. The doors of the drawing room were open, the fireplace cold, the sofa empty. There was a letter from him on my desk.
I hoped that he was still in the Cooks’. I went to their half of the house and found only empty rooms until I came upon a maid throwing dust covers on the furniture in the front parlour.
“They have gone away,” she said when she saw me. “No one knows where. No one knows how long. He left some money for you.” She handed me a thick sealed envelope.
They had left very early in the morning, dismissing all the servants on the spot, giving each of them an envelope like mine, which contained their pay.
“He asked us not to wake you,” she said. “He told me to wait for you so that the house would not be empty when you woke up. I am sorry, Mr. Stead.” She covered another chair. Soon the whole house would be like the Dakota.
It would later be discovered that, with their two children, Dr. Cook and Marie had sailed for South America, where they travelled under the pseudonyms of Dr. and Mrs. Craig.