CHAPTER CLXVIII.

THE NOBLEMAN AND THE LAWYER.

On entering into the presence of Mr. Heathcote, the handsome visitor tendered his card; and the moment the lawyer cast his eyes upon it, a cloud passed hastily over his countenance--for he knew that Lord William Trevelyan, whose name appeared on that card, was an intimate friend of Sir Gilbert. He however composed himself in an instant, and, pointing to a chair, said, “Be seated, my lord.”

The young nobleman accepted the invitation, and then observed, “I have to apologise for intruding myself upon you----”

“Not if you come on matters of business, my lord,” interrupted the lawyer, in a tone which was intended to imply that his time was nevertheless very precious.

“I fear that you will scarcely consider my visit to be connected with business in the sense you would have me infer,” said Trevelyan, courteously: “at the same time, you will give me credit for the best intentions----”

“Pray, my lord, come to the point,” exclaimed Heathcote, impatiently. “I have a vast amount of work upon my hands--several appointments to keep--and my toilette not yet performed.”

“In one word, sir,” said Trevelyan, “may I inquire if you have received any tidings concerning your brother, who is a dear and valued friend of mine?”

“I have heard that my brother is absent, my lord,” answered Heathcote, coldly: “but I have no control over his movements--and he is not in the habit of consulting me respecting his actions.”

“At the same time, sir----”

“Pardon me, my lord: I have answered you--and I have not a moment to spare.”

“But as your brother’s friend, sir--his intimate friend----”

“I do not know you, my lord: neither do I trouble myself with my brother’s friendships.”

These last words were uttered so rudely--almost brutally, that the young nobleman’s countenance became the colour of scarlet, and he felt that were the lawyer a man less advanced in years, he would have knocked him down for his insolence.

“I am aware, sir,” he said, subduing his indignation as well as he was able, “that I have no claim upon your courtesy, beyond that which social conventions establish: but I regret to find that you should think it necessary to treat with such extreme incivility a person who has never offended you.”

“Then wherefore does your lordship force yourself into my presence, and persist in remaining here, when I tell you that I am occupied with serious matters?” demanded the lawyer, rising from his seat, while his brows were bent in such a way as to render his countenance particularly displeasing and sinister at that moment.

“Serious matters, indeed!” ejaculated Lord William, also rising; “is it not a serious matter that your brother--your own brother--has suddenly disappeared----”

“I have already told your lordship that I have no control over the actions of Sir Gilbert Heathcote,” said the lawyer; “and I am not to be forced into a discussion on any subject with one who is a complete stranger to me.”

“I repeat, sir, that I am your brother’s intimate friend,” cried the young patrician, indignantly.

“But I repeat, on my side, that you are no friend of mine--nor likely to be,” responded Heathcote. “Will your lordship, therefore, leave me to those pursuits which have better claims upon my time and attention?”

“Better claims! And yet you must surely have some of the ordinary feelings of human nature,” urged the nobleman, in a tone of mingled remonstrance and earnest appeal. “One word more, if you please, sir,” he continued, seeing that Heathcote was again about to interrupt him: “this matter is becoming serious! For eight days has your brother been missed from his place of abode and from the circle of his friends: an investigation into so mysterious an occurrence must necessarily take place--and without delay, too. What will the world think of you, sir--_you_, the nearest living relative of one who may perhaps be no more--if you refuse your co-operation in this endeavour to ascertain what has become of him? I will even go farther, sir, and declare that a certain degree of odium will attach itself to you----”

“Young man, by what right do you thus insult me?” demanded the lawyer, completely unabashed, and measuring Lord William Trevelyan from head to foot with his keen, searching eyes. “Do you for a single instant dare to assert that if my brother should have met with foul play--as your words just now implied such a suspicion,--do you dare to assert, I ask, that the world would couple the slightest imputation with my good name? Though not of an aristocratic rank, my social position is an honourable one; and such as it is, my own talents--my own energies--my own hard toils, have made it. But because I can see nothing extraordinary in the absence of a man who has no domestic ties to bind him to one place, and who, acting upon a sudden caprice or fancy, may choose to depart from the metropolis, perhaps,--because I behold nothing remarkable in all this, am I to be reproached, vituperated, and even insulted by you, who adopt another view of the matter? Why, my lord, you are far more intimate with Sir Gilbert Heathcote than I, even though he is my brother;--and what would you say, were I to repair to your house--force myself into your presence--refuse to leave when solicited--and actually level the most injurious language, amounting almost to positive imputations, at your head? I appeal to your good sense, if you possess any, to consider the impropriety of your conduct here this morning, and to take your departure at once, before you irritate me more deeply than you have already done.”

“I have listened, sir, with respectful attention to all you have said,” returned Lord William Trevelyan; “and I declare emphatically that I am not satisfied with your reasoning. I impute nothing to you--because I know not what suspicions to entertain in the case. I frankly confess that I am bewildered, not only by the fact of my friend’s unaccountable disappearance, but also by the manner in which you treat that circumstance. You declare that you cannot bring yourself to look seriously on this disappearance: surely it ought to alarm you, when I, who am so well acquainted with your brother, solemnly aver that I have particular reasons for knowing that he would _not_ leave the metropolis in obedience to any sudden fancy or whim, without previously making a communication in a certain quarter.”

“To you, I presume?” said Heathcote, fixing his eyes searchingly upon the patrician.

“No--not to myself,” was the reply: “but to another.”

“And that other?” observed the lawyer interrogatively: for he now began to fear that Trevelyan alluded to Mrs. Sefton, in which case he might repair straight to her abode after quitting that office--he might there meet the clerk whom he had seen on his arrival just now--and he might mar the entire scheme that had been concocted for the purpose of inducing the lady to leave England.

“Unless you yourself are acquainted with _that other person_ to whom I alluded--or at least have some knowledge to whom I could so allude--I am not at liberty to make any revelations,” observed Lord William.

“Oh! this is admirable!” ejaculated the lawyer, reseating himself and appearing no longer in a hurry to break off the conference: for he now perceived the necessity of detaining the nobleman as long as possible, so as to afford Green ample time to carry the deeply-concocted scheme into effect.

“You are pleased to be jocular at something, sir,” said Trevelyan, biting his lip with vexation at an insolence which he could not chastise: and leaning against the mantel-piece, he surveyed the attorney with mingled anger and aversion.

“Yes--I am jocular,” exclaimed the latter; “and I again declare that your conduct is admirable! You come to me to aid you in investigating what you are pleased to denominate a most mysterious occurrence; and, by way of inducing me thus to co-operate, you yourself start fresh mysteries, and make enigmatic allusions to unintelligible matters, concerning which you refuse to enter into any explanations.”

“There may be certain circumstances, sir, which a man of honour dares not reveal,” said Lord William, sternly; “and such is the case in the present instance.”

“You have therefore a positive proof that Sir Gilbert’s friends were more in his confidence than his own brother,” replied the lawyer, in a sarcastic tone; “and this is tantamount to what I told you just now.”

“Yes, sir--but the circumstances to which I allude have no reference to the mysterious disappearance of Sir Gilbert Heathcote,” rejoined Trevelyan; “nor do they in any way relieve you from your responsibility as a brother.”

“But, since you yourself are acquainted with some mysterious and unmentionable circumstances connected with my brother,” said the lawyer, still in a tone of bitter sarcasm, “I have much more reason to accuse you of possessing a clue to the causes of his disappearance, than you have to level the same charge at me. Now, from your words--for I am a man of the world, my lord--I naturally infer that the _other person_ to whom you so emphatically alluded, must be a lady----”

“I did not say so, sir--I gave you no reason for entertaining such an opinion,” exclaimed Trevelyan fearful of now compromising a matter of great delicacy.

“But I choose to think so,” said the lawyer, elevating his brows to an extraordinary degree, while a malignant light gleamed in his restless eyes: “and is it strange--is it unusual in the world, for a man to absent himself suddenly and even mysteriously, in order to break off a connexion of which he is wearied, and which no longer has any charms for him?”

“One word, sir,” interjected Trevelyan, annoyed with himself for having made any allusion to his friend’s connexion with Mrs. Sefton: “your brother has undertaken no sudden journey--of _that_ I am well assured. Would he quit his residence without leaving even a message behind him? Would he depart without even so much as a change of raiment--without the necessaries of the toilette?”

“Pooh! pooh!” ejaculated the lawyer, now throwing an expression of sovereign contempt into his tone. “A man with money can purchase a carpetbag or a portmanteau at the first town he stops at, and can stock it well, too, with linen and hairbrushes for a few shillings. Really, my lord, you compel me to treat you as an inexperienced child, who, having got some wild or romantic notion into his head, is determined to maintain it by any argument, no matter how preposterous or far-fetched.”

Trevelyan bit his lip again: for he saw that the lawyer had really the advantage of him now; and he more than ever blamed his own indiscretion in having alluded to the affair of Mrs. Sefton.

“Come, my lord, be reasonable,” proceeded Heathcote, in a conciliatory tone; “and I will pardon you the rudeness--or I will rather call it the _brusquerie_, of your first proceedings with regard to me. You cannot deny that there is a lady in the case: I am far-sighted enough to have made that discovery. Well, my brother is tired of her, or has quarrelled with her--or something of that sort; and he has therefore taken a sudden trip, heaven only knows where. Do you really imagine that if I had any serious fears, I would refuse to co-operate with you in instituting the necessary inquiries? Depend upon it, Sir Gilbert will re-appear again shortly amongst his friends; and he would not be over-well pleased if he found on his return, or if the newspapers wafted to him the fact, that a terrible hubbub had taken place in consequence of his sudden departure. I am a much older man than you, my lord,--and I look at these matters more calmly--more deliberately.”

Trevelyan knew not how to reply to these observations. Though they did not dissipate the alarm which he experienced at the absence of Sir Gilbert, yet he began to think that the lawyer was really sincere in giving utterance to them. He, on one side, was disposed to view the affair seriously: Heathcote, on the other, put his own interpretation on it;--and, in the same way that Trevelyan could not resist the impressions made upon himself, he felt bound to allow the merit of equal conscientiousness on the part of the attorney.

At all events, there was no utility in protracting the discourse; and the young nobleman accordingly resolved to take his leave, suspending for the present any opinion relative to the conduct of Mr. James Heathcote.

“I am sorry, sir,” said he, “that I should have intruded so long upon your valuable time: I am likewise sorry if, at the commencement of our interview, I should have been hurried by the excitement of my feelings into anything uncourteous or rude.”

“Now that you speak in the manner that best becomes a nobleman and a gentleman,” observed Heathcote, adopting the part of one who has something to forgive and overlook, “I am most anxious to welcome you as my brother’s friend. Will you step up into the drawing-room, and honour my humble abode so far as to partake of such refreshment as at the moment I can offer you?”

This proposal was only made with a view to gain as much time as possible: for the lawyer in his heart had cordially hated the young nobleman from the instant that he had read his name upon the card.

“I return you my best thanks, sir,” said Trevelyan; “but I am compelled to decline your hospitality on the present occasion.”

Thus speaking, the young nobleman bowed and retired; and the moment the door closed behind him, the lawyer’s countenance assumed an expression of such malignant triumph, that it seemed as if he were suddenly animated with the spirit of a fiend.

“Green has got her off by this time--there can be no doubt of _that_,” he muttered to himself, as he rubbed his mummy-like hands gleefully together. “The woman loves my brother--and she will start away directly. Even her vanity will not induce her to tarry to pack up all her things, unless they are ready to hand; for the love of a woman who is sincere in her passion, rises superior to every other consideration. Oh! I know the human heart well; I know all its intricacies--its ins and its outs--the ravellings and unravellings of its smallest, most delicate fibres! It has been my business to study my fellow-creatures, in order that I might make them my instruments--my tools--my slaves. And I have succeeded!” he continued, with a chuckling laugh, while his brows were elevated with joy. “Otherwise I should not be the rich man that I am now. But if my wealth be already great--it must be greater. I must possess countless treasures--riches beyond computation; and until I have gained _them_ I shall not be satisfied--neither shall I cease from toiling. That young aristocratic fool who was with me ere now--he affected to bully me, did he? I got the better of him. He affected to reason with me: I beat him with pure sophism,--and he has gone away entertaining a better opinion of me than when he first entered my presence. But I must examine these abstracts thoroughly,” he added, still in a muttering tone, as he bent his eyes upon the documents which he had been studying; “I must note every point in these copies of the titles by virtue of which my brother holds his estates--for the management of these estates is already as good as in my own hands: and who knows--who knows how soon they may be mine altogether--yes--lands, messuages, tenements--aye, baronetcy and all?”

And as these last thoughts passed through his brain,--for he had not dared to give audible utterance to _them_,--there came such a diabolical expression--an expression of dark menace strangely mingled with the confidence of approaching triumph--over his countenance, that had any one been by at the time, the beholder must have dreaded lest that terrible man were about to throw off the mask of humanity and reveal himself in all the horrors of a demoniac nature.

We must however take leave of him for the present, and return to one whose generous and noble character forms such a striking contrast with this bad, designing man.