Part 38 (1/2)

A hansom cab, on its way to the East India Club rattled through the square, and, under cover of the noise, I stole out from behind the screen, and stood in the middle of the room, looking down at the unconscious worker. If for a minute I felt the desire to raise my hand and give his lords.h.i.+p such a surprise as he had never in his life experienced, any other man might have felt the same; and as it was I put it away and only looked quietly about me. Some rays of suns.h.i.+ne, piercing the corner pane of a dulled window, fell on the Wetherby coat of arms blazoned over the wide fireplace, and so created the one bright spot in the bare, dismantled room; which had once, unless the tiers of empty shelves and the lingering odour of Russia lied, been lined from floor to ceiling with books. My lord had taken the furniture; my lord had taken the books; my lord had taken--nothing but his rights.

Retreating softly to the door by which I had entered, and rattling the handle, I advanced afresh into the room. ”Will your lords.h.i.+p allow me?” I said, after I had in vain coughed to gain his attention.

He turned hastily and looked at me with a face full of suspicion. Some surprise on finding another person in the room was natural; but possibly also there was something in the atmosphere of that house which threw his nerves off their balance. ”Who are you?” he cried in a tone which matched his face.

”You left orders, my lord,” I explained, ”with Messrs. Duggan and Poole that a clerk should attend here at eleven. I very much regret that some delay has been caused.”

”Oh, you are the clerk!” he replied ungraciously. ”You do not look much like a lawyer's clerk.”

Involuntarily I glanced aside, and saw in a mirror the reflection of a tall man with a thick beard and moustaches, grey eyes, and an ugly scar seaming the face from nose to ear. ”Yet I hope to give you satisfaction, my lord,” I murmured, dropping my eyes. ”It was understood that you needed a confidential clerk.”

”Well, well, sir, to your work!” he replied irritably. ”Better late than never; and after all it may be better that you should be here and see it executed. Only you will not forget,” he continued, with a glance at the papers, ”that I have myself copied four--well, three--three full folios, for which an allowance must be made. But there! Get on with your work. The handwriting will speak for itself.”

I obeyed, and wrote on steadily, while the earl walked up and down the room, or stood at a window. Upstairs sat Mrs. Wigram, schooling herself, I dare swear, to take this one favour that was no favour from the man who had dealt out to her such hard measure. Outside a casual pa.s.ser through the square glanced up at the great house, and seeing the bent head of the secretary and the figure of his companion, saw as he thought nothing unusual; nor had any presentiment--how should he?--of the strange scene which the room with the dingy windows was about to witness.

I had been writing for five minutes when Lord Wetherby stopped in his pa.s.sage behind me and looked over my shoulder. With a jerk his eyegla.s.ses fell, touching my shoulder.

”Bless my soul!” he exclaimed, ”I have seen your handwriting somewhere! And lately, too. Where, I wonder?”

”Probably among the family papers, my lord,” I answered. ”I have several times been engaged in the family business in the time of the late Lord Wetherby.”

”Indeed.” There was both curiosity and suspicion in his utterance of the word. ”You knew him?”

”Yes, my lord. I have written for him in this very room, and he has walked up and down, and dictated to me, as you might be doing now.”

His lords.h.i.+p stopped his pacing to and fro, and on the instant retreated to the window. But I could see that he was interested, and I was not surprised when he continued with transparent carelessness. ”A strange coincidence. And may I ask what it was upon which you were engaged?”

”At that time?” I answered, looking him full in the face. ”Upon a will, my lord.”

He started and frowned, and abruptly resumed his walk up and down. But I saw that he had a better conscience than I had given him credit for possessing. My shot had not struck where I had looked to place it; and, finding this was so, I turned the thing over afresh, while I pursued my copying. When I had finished, I asked him--I think he was busy at the time cursing the absence of tact in the lower orders--if he would go through the instrument. And he took my seat.

Where I stood behind him, I was not far from the fireplace. While he muttered to himself the legal jargon in which he was as well versed as a lawyer bred in an office, I moved to it; and; neither missed nor suspected, stood looking from his bent figure to the blazoned s.h.i.+eld, which formed part of the mantelpiece. If I wavered, my hesitation lasted but a few seconds. Then, raising my voice, I called sharply, ”My lord, there used to be here----”

He turned swiftly, and saw where I was. ”What the deuce are you doing there, sir?” he cried in astonishment, rising to his feet and coming towards me, the pen in his hand and his face aflame with anger. ”You forget----”

”A safe--a concealed safe for papers,” I continued, cutting him short in my turn. ”I have seen the late Lord Wetherby place papers in it more than once. The spring worked from here. You touch this k.n.o.b.”

”Leave it alone, sir!” he cried furiously.

He spoke too late. The s.h.i.+eld had swung outwards on a hinge, door-fas.h.i.+on; and where it had been, gaped a small open safe lined with cement. The rays of suns.h.i.+ne, that a few minutes before had picked out the gaudy quarterings, now fell on a large envelope which lay apart on a shelf. It was as clean as if it had been put there that morning. No doubt the safe was air-tight. I laid my hand upon it. ”My lord!” I cried, turning to look at him with ill-concealed exultation, ”here is a paper--I think, a will!”

A moment before the veins of his forehead had been swollen, his face had been dark with the rush of blood. But his anger died down at sight of the packet. He regained his self-control, and a moment saw him pale and calm, all show of resentment confined to a wicked gleam in his eye. ”A will?” he repeated, with a certain kind of dignity, though the hand he stretched out to take the envelope shook. ”Indeed, then it is my place to examine it. I am the heir-at-law, and I am within my rights, sir.”

I feared that he was going to put the parcel into his pocket and dismiss me, and I was considering what course I should take, when instead he carried the envelope to the table by the window, and tore off the cover without ceremony. ”It is not in your handwriting?” were his first words. And he looked at me with a distrust that was almost superst.i.tious. No doubt my sudden entrance, my ominous talk, and my discovery seemed to him to savour of the devil.

”No,” I replied unmoved. ”I told your lords.h.i.+p that I had written a will at the late Lord Wetherby's dictation. I did not say--for how could I know?--that it was this one.”

”Ah!” He hastily smoothed the sheets, and ran his eyes over their contents. When he reached the last page there was a dark scowl on his face, and he stood awhile staring at the signatures; not now reading, I think, but collecting his thoughts. ”You know the provisions of this?” he presently burst forth, das.h.i.+ng the back of his hand against the paper. ”I say, sir, you know the provisions of this?”

”I do not, my lord,” I answered. Nor did I.