Part 61 (1/2)

Two hours later a rough, uncouth looking man appears at the servants'

entrance, and asks to see Mr. Lamotte.

”I'm one of his workmen,” he says, very gravely, ”and I want to see him particular.”

Jasper Lamotte is in no mood for receiving visitors, but he is, just now, in a position where he can not, with safety, follow the dictates of his haughty nature.

He is filled with suspicion; surrounded by a mystery he can not fathom; and, a man who begs for an audience at such an hour, must have an extraordinary errand. Reasoning thus, he says, crustily:

”Show the fellow here.”

A moment later the man shuffles into the room. Mr. Lamotte glances up, and his brow darkens ominously.

”Brooks!” he exclaims. ”What the mischief--” he checks himself, then adds, ungraciously: ”What do _you_ want?”

”Mr. Lamotte, I beg your pardon, sir,” says the man, a trifle thickly.

”I came back to W---- last night, and heard of the awful things, as has happened here. Now, I always liked Burrill, in spite of his weakness, for _I_ ain't the man to criticise such failin's. I've been down among the factory people, and I've heard them talk; and, thinks I to myself, there's some things as Mr. Lamotte ought to know. You've always paid me my wages, sir; and treated me fair; and I believe you've treated all the hands the same; but--there's _some_ people as must always have their fling at every body, as the Lord has seen fit to set over their heads; and--there's some of them sort in Mill avenue.”

During this harangue the countenance of Jasper Lamotte has grown less supercilious, but not less curious.

”Explain yourself, Brooks,” he says, quite graciously, and with some inward uneasiness. ”I do not comprehend your meaning.”

”If I had come to your servants and asked to see the body of my old chum,” begins Brooks, with a knowing look, and drawing near Mr. Lamotte, ”they would have ordered me off, and shut the door in my face; so I just asked to see _you_ on particular business. But if you was to ring your bell, by and by, and order one of your servants to take me in to look at the corpse, I could explain to them what an old friend I was, and that would settle the curiosity business.”

”Doesn't it strike you, Brooks, that you don't cut much of a figure, to appear as the friend of my son-in-law?” questions Mr. Lamotte, looking some disfavor at the _ensemble_ before him.

Brooks buries his chin in his bosom, in order to survey his soiled linen; looks down at his dingy boots; runs his fingers through his shock of coa.r.s.e red hair.

”I ain't much of a feller to look at; but that's because I ain't been as lucky as Burrill was; though I ain't anxious to change places with him now. I'll fix the friends.h.i.+p business to suit you, sir, and be proper respectful about it. Say Burrill was my boss, or something of that sort.

I shouldn't like to have certain parties know my _real_ business here, and I _should_ like to take a look at Burrill on my own account.”

There is a ring of sarcasm in the first words of this speech, and Mr.

Lamotte reflects that he has not yet learned his errand.

”Very good, Brooks, you shall see the body, and manage the rest as delicately as possible, please. You know we want no ill spoken of the dead. Now, then, your real business, for,” consulting his watch, ”time presses.”

”I know it does, sir, and I won't waste any words. You see, sir, beggin'

your pardon for mentionin' of it, Burrill has got another wife, a divorced one, I mean, livin' down at the avenue. She works in Story's mill now, but she used to work in yours before--”

”Yes, yes,” impatiently. ”Get on faster, Brooks.”

”Well, you see, sir, since her husband--I mean since _Mr. Burrill_ was killed, she has been cuttin' up rough, and lettin' out a many things as you wouldn't like to have get all over W----. She ain't afraid of him no more (he did beat her monstrous), and when she gets to takin' on, she lets out things that would sound bad about your son-in-law. If it was a common chap like me, it wouldn't matter; but I thinks to myself, now, Brooks, this 'ere woman who can't hold her tongue will be hauled up as a witness for Doctor Heath. I ain't got nothing against Doctor Heath, but I says, it will be awful humblin' to Mr. Lamotte's pride, and powerful hard on his pretty daughter; so I jest come to say that if Nance Burrill could be got to go away, quiet like, before the other parties could get their hands on her, why, it would be a good thing, Mr. Lamotte.”

Considering the tender solicitude he feels for ”Mr. Lamotte's pride,” he has given it some pretty hard knocks, but he looks quite innocent, and incapable of any sinister intent, and Mr. Lamotte, after gnawing his lip viciously for a moment and favoring his _vis-a-vis_ with a sharp glance of suspicion, says, with sudden condescension:

”Brooks, I've always been inclined to believe you a pretty good sort of fellow, but really this singular disinterestedness almost makes me suspect your motive. Stop,” as Brooks elevates his head and suddenly faces toward the door. ”Hear me out. Brooks, don't be ashamed to confess it. Did the thought of a reward stimulate you to do me this--favor?”