Part 11 (1/2)
CHAPTER XVII.
THE LAWYER AT HOME.
If Mr. Clode, when he stepped forward to open the door for Lord Dynmore, had any thought beyond that of facilitating his departure--if, for instance, as is just possible, he had set his mind on having a little private talk with the peer--he was disappointed. Lord Dynmore, after what had happened, was in no mood for conversation. As, still muttering and mumbling, he seized his hat from the hall table, he did indeed notice his companion, but it was with the red angry glare of a bull about to charge. The next moment he plunged headlong into his brougham, and roared ”Home.”
The carriage plunged away into the darkness of the drive, as if it would reach the Park at a leap. But it had barely cleared Mrs. Hammond's gates, and was still rattling over the stony pavement of the top of the town, when the footman heard his master lower the window and shout ”Stop!” The horses were pulled up as suddenly as they had been started, and the man got down and went to the door. ”Do you know where Mr. Bonamy the lawyer's offices are?” Lord Dynmore said curtly.
”Yes, my lord.”
”Then drive there!”
The footman got upon the box again. ”What has bitten him now, I wonder?” he grumbled to his companion as he pa.s.sed on the order. ”He is in a fine tantrum in there!”
”Who cares?” retorted the coachman, with a coachman's fine independence. ”If old Bonamy is in, there will be a pair of them!”
Mr. Bonamy was in. In that particular Lord Dynmore had better luck than he perhaps deserved. Late as it was for business--it was after seven--the gas was still burning in the lawyer's offices, illuminating the fanlight over the door and the windows of one of the rooms on the ground floor--the right-hand room. The servant jumped down and rapped, and his summons was answered almost immediately by Mr. Bonamy himself, who jerked open the door, and stood holding it ajar, with the air of a man interrupted in the middle of his work, and bent on sending the intruder off with a flea in his ear. Catching sight of the earl's carriage, however, and the servant murmuring that my lord wished to see him on business, the lawyer stepped forward, his expression changing to one of extreme surprise.
The Dynmore business had been hitherto monopolized by the London solicitors to the estate. In cases where a country agent had been necessary they had invariably employed a firm in Birmingham. Neither Mr. Bonamy nor the other Claversham lawyer had ever risen to the dignity of being concerned for Lord Dynmore, nor could Mr. Bonamy recall any occasion in the past on which the great man had crossed the threshold of his office.
His appearance now, therefore, was almost as welcome as it was unexpected. Yet from some cause, probably the lateness of the hour, though that seems improbable, there was a visible embarra.s.sment in the lawyer's manner as he recognized him; and Mr. Bonamy only stepped aside to make way for him to enter upon hearing from his own lips that he desired to speak with him.
Then he opened the door of the room on the left of the hall. ”If your lords.h.i.+p will take a seat here,” he said, ”I will be with you in a moment.”
The room was in darkness, but he struck a match and lit the gas, placing a chair for Lord Dynmore, who, fretting and fuming and more than half inclined as he took it to walk out again, said sharply that he had only a minute to spare.
”I shall not be a minute, my lord,” the lawyer answered. He retired at once with that, closing the door behind him, and went, as his visitor could hear, into the opposite room. Lord Dynmore looked round impatiently. He had not so high as opinion of his own importance as have some who are no peers. But he was choleric and accustomed to have his own way, and he thought that at least this local man whom he was going to patronize might receive him with more respect.
Mr. Bonamy, however, was as good as his word. In less than a minute he was back. Closing the door carefully behind him, he sat down at the table. ”I am entirely at your lords.h.i.+p's service now,” he said, bowing slightly.
The earl laid his hat on the table. ”Very well,” he answered abruptly. ”I have heard that you are a sharp fellow, Mr. Bonamy, and a good lawyer, and that is why I have come to you--that and the fact that my business will not wait and I have a mind to punish those confounded London people who have let me into this mess!”
That it was rather impatience than anything else which had brought him he betrayed by getting up and striding across the room. Meanwhile the lawyer, golden visions of bulky settlements and interminable leases floating before his eyes, murmured his anxiety to be of service, and waited to hear more.
”It is about that confounded sneak of a rector of yours!” my lord exclaimed, coming to a stand before the table.
Mr. Bonamy started, his visions fading rapidly away. ”What rector?” he replied, gazing at his client in great astonishment. ”Our rector, my lord?”
”The man who calls himself your rector!” the earl growled. ”He is no more a rector than I am, and pretty fools you were to be taken in by him!”
”Now that is odd!” the lawyer answered. He spoke absently, his eyes resting on the peer's face as if his thoughts were far away.
”Odd or not,” Lord Dynmore replied, stamping on the floor with undiminished irritation, ”it is the fact, sir! And now if you will listen to me I will tell you what I want you to do.”
The lawyer bowed slightly again, and the earl proceeded to tell his tale. Pa.s.sing lightly over his own forgetfulness and negligence, he laid stress on all the facts which seemed to show that Lindo could not have accepted the living in good faith. He certainly made out a plausible case, but his animus in telling it was so apparent that, when he had finished and wound up by announcing his firm resolve to eject the young man from his cure, Mr. Bonamy only shook his head with a doubtful smile. ”You will have to prove guilty knowledge on his part, my lord,” he said gravely.
”So I will!” quoth the earl roundly.
Mr. Bonamy seemed for a moment inclined to shake his head again, but he thought better of it. ”Well, you may be right, my lord,” he answered. ”At any rate--without going further into the matter at this moment, or considering what course your lords.h.i.+p, could or should adopt--I think I can do one thing. I can lay some information on this point before you at once.”
”What! To show that he knew?” cried the earl eagerly.
”Yes, I think so. But as to its weight----”
”What is it? What is it? Let me hear it!” was the impatient interruption. The earl was on his feet in a moment. ”Why, gadzooks, we may have him in a corner before the day is out, Mr. Bonamy,” he continued. ”True? I will be bound it is true!”
Mr. Bonamy looked as if he very much doubted that, but he offered no further opposition. Begging Lord Dynmore--who could not look upon him with sufficient admiration, so much was he struck with this strange preparedness--to excuse him for a moment, he left the room. He returned almost immediately, however, followed by a man whom the earl at once recognized, and recognized with the utmost astonishment. ”Why, you confounded rascal!” he gasped. ”What are you doing here?”
It was Felton. Yet not the same Felton whose surrept.i.tious visit to the rectory had been cut short by Mr. Clode. A few weeks of idleness and drinking, a month or two at the Bull and Staff had much changed the once sleek and respectable servant. Had he gone to the rectory for help now, his tale could not have pa.s.sed muster even for a moment. His coat had come to hang loosely about him, and he wore no tie. His hands were dirty and tremulous, his eyes s.h.i.+fty and bloodshot. His pasty face had grown puffy and was stained with blotches which it was impossible to misinterpret. He had gone down the hill fast.
Seeing his old master before him he began to whimper, but the lawyer cut him short. ”This man, who says he was formerly your servant, has come to me with a strange story, Lord Dynmore,” he said.
”Ten to one it's a lie!” replied the peer, scowling darkly at the poor wretch.
”So I think likely!” Mr. Bonamy rejoined with the utmost dryness. ”However, what he says is this: that when he landed in England without a character he considered what he should do, and, remembering that he had heard you say that Mr. Lindo the elder, whom he knew, had been appointed to this living, he came down here to see what he could get out of him.”
”That is likely enough!” cried the peer scornfully.
”When he called at the rectory, however, he found Mr. Lindo, the younger, in possession. He had an interview with him, and he states that Mr. Lindo, to purchase his silence, undertook to pay him ten s.h.i.+llings a week until your return.”
”Phaugh!” my lord exclaimed in astonishment.
The servant mistook his astonishment for incredulity. ”He did, my lord!” he cried pa.s.sionately. ”It is heaven's own truth I am telling! I can bring half a dozen witnesses to prove it.”
”You can?”
”I can, my lord.”
”Yes, but to prove what?” said the lawyer sharply.
”That he paid me ten s.h.i.+llings a week down to last week, my lord.”
”That will do! That will do!” cried the earl in great glee. ”Set a thief to catch a thief--that is the plan!”
Mr. Bonamy looked displeased. ”I think you are a little premature, my lord,” he said with some sourness.
”Premature? How?”
”At present you have only this man's word for what is on the face of it a very improbable story.”
”Improbable? I do not see it,” replied the peer quickly, but with less heat. ”He says that he has witnesses to prove that this fellow paid him the money. If that be so, explain the payment if you can. And, mark you, Mr. Bonamy, the allowance stopped last week--on my arrival, that is.”
The man cried eagerly that that was so; the earl at once bidding him be silent for a confounded rascal as he was. Mr. Bonamy stood rubbing his chin thoughtfully and looking on the floor, but said nothing; so that the great man presently lost patience. ”Don't you agree with me?” he cried irascibly.