Part 49 (2/2)
Jasper Lamotte moves about, giving short orders in a low tone. He is pallid and visibly nervous. If it were his own son who lay there in their midst, stiff and cold, and saturated with his own blood, he could scarcely appear more agitated, more shocked and sorrowful. He is really shocked; really sorry; he actually regrets the loss of this man, who must have been a constant crucifixion to his pride.
This is what they whisper among themselves, as they gather in knots and furtively watch him, as he moves about the bier.
It has been a shock to Frank Lamotte, too, although he never had seemed to crave the society of his brother-in-law, and always turned away from any mention of his name, with a sneer.
Two men, who withdraw quickly from the crowd, are Lawyer O'Meara and Ray Vandyck. As they come up out of the cellar and go out from the hateful place, Ray breaks into bitter invective; but O'Meara lays a firm hand upon his arm.
”Hold your impulsive tongue, you young scamp! Do you want to be impeached for a prejudiced witness? You want to help Heath, not to hurt him; and let me tell you, he will need strong friends and shrewd helpers, before we see him a free man again.”
Ray grinds out something profane, and then paces on in wrathful silence.
”You are right, of course,” he says, after a moment's pause, and in a calmer tone. ”But, good G.o.d! to bring such a charge against Heath, of all men! O'Meara,” suddenly, ”you must defend him.”
”I intend to,” grimly. ”And in his interest I want to see you as soon as the vicinity is quiet; we must think the matter over and then see Heath.”
”Heath puzzles me; he's strangely apathetic.”
”He'll puzzle you more yet, I'm thinking. I half think he knows who did the deed, and don't intend to tell.” He pauses, having come to the place where their ways diverge. ”Come around by dark, Vandyck, we can't lose any time, that is if the buzzards are out of the way.”
”The buzzards will follow the carrion,” scornfully. ”I'll be on hand, Mr. O'Meara.”
He goes on, looking longingly at Clifford Heath's cottage, as he pa.s.ses the gate, and the little lawyer begins to pick his way across the muddy street, not caring to go on to the proper crossing.
”Mr. O'Meara.”
He turns nervously, to encounter the gaze of a large gentleman with a rosy face, curling, iron-gray hair, and beard, and a blazing diamond in his s.h.i.+rt front.
”Eh! sir; you addressed me?”
”I did,” replies the gentleman, in a low, energetic tone, strangely at variance with his general appearance, at the same time coming close and grasping the lawyer's hand with great show of cordiality, and before the astounded little man can realize what he is about. ”Call me Wedron, sir, Wedron, ahem, of the New York Bar. I must have an interview with you, sir, and at once.”
O'Meara draws back and replies rather frigidly:
”I am glad to know you, sir; but if your business is not too urgent--if another time will do--”
”Another time will _not_ do? my business concerns Clifford Heath.”
”Then, sir, I am at your service.”
CHAPTER x.x.x.
AN OBSTINATE CLIENT.
”There, sir; I think we understand each other, sir.”
”Humph! well, that's according to how you put it. My knowledge is sufficient unto the day, at any rate. I am to visit Heath at once, taking young Vandyck with me; I am to insist upon his making a strong defence, and to watch him closely. Vandyck is to add his voice, and he'll do it with a roar, and then we are to report to you. Is that it?”
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