Chapter Seventeen.
Legal Advice.
“Hullo! What do you want? Never sent for you.”
“No,” said Doctor Lawrence gruffly, “I came without,” and he seated himself in one of the old, worn, leather covered chairs in the lawyer’s private room at Lincoln’s Inn.
“But I’m right as a trivet, Lawrence, and if I was not, I should not consult you.”
“I know that. You never did.”
“Well, you never came to me about your legal affairs.”
“Of course I did not. If I had we should never have remained friends.”
“Humph! Then you think I should have ruined you.”
“Well, you think I should have poisoned you.”
“There! get out. What’s the matter, Lawrence?”
“I’ve come to consult you.”
“You have? Then hang it all, old chap, I’ll have jaundice or gout next week.”
“About The Mynns’ affairs.”
“Oh! Then I’ll keep quite well. What’s the matter now?”
“Sit down, Hampton, and let’s talk quietly, old fellow, as friends.”
The old lawyer sat down, took a penknife from a drawer, and throwing himself back in his chair, began to pare his nails.
“Well, what is it?” he said.
“I’m very uncomfortable about the state of affairs down yonder.”
“So am I, and I get no peace of my life.”
“How’s that?”
“The wife!”
“Oh! Shouldn’t have married.”
“Too late to alter that now.”
“But what do you mean?”
“Mean? Why, of course, situated as we were, the wife agreed to poor little Gertrude’s wishes, and stayed at The Mynns to play propriety till those two were married; and now I want to get home to my own fireside, but we seem regularly stuck, and the worst of it is, we are unwelcome visitors.”
“Yes, I saw that.”
“Then can you imagine a more unpleasant position for a well-to-do old chap like myself; staying at a house where your host always shows you that you are not wanted?”
“No. It is hard; and for unselfish reasons.”
“I wouldn’t stop another hour with the rowdy Yankee scoundrel, only Mrs Hampton says I must.”
“For Gertrude’s sake, of course.”
“Oh, hang your of ‘course,’” cried the lawyer angrily.
“Call yourself a friend! Why don’t you advise me to go?”
“Can’t,” said the doctor, putting his hat upon the top of his cane, and spinning it slowly round.
“Don’t do that, man. It fidgets me.”
The doctor took his hat off the cane meekly, and set it on the table, after which he laid his cane across his knees, and began to roll it slowly to and fro, as if he were making paste.
“I say, Lawrence,” cried the old lawyer querulously, “don’t do that. You give me the creeps.”
The doctor meekly laid his stick beside his hat, and put his hands in his pockets.
“Look here,” he said, “what about that poor girl?”
“Well, what about her?”
“Are we to standstill and see her throw herself away upon this wretched man?”
“Can you show me a way out of the difficulty? If so, for goodness’ sake speak out.”
“Your wife! Cannot she influence her?”
“No. She has done everything. The poor girl looks upon it as a duty to the old man, and to his grandson; and she has made up her mind.”
“Tut—tut—tut—tut—tut!”
“She believes that she can bring the fellow round to a better way of life.”
“I don’t, Hampton.”
“No more do I.”
“Think she loves him?”
“No. Not a bit. She doesn’t dislike him though, for he can make himself agreeable when he chooses.”
“Then she will marry him?”
“Not a doubt about it, doctor.”
There was a pause, broken by the lawyer doubling his fist and striking the table so heavy a blow that there was a cloud of pungent dust directly after in the doctor’s nostrils, and he sneezed violently again and again.
“Oh, you old fool!” cried the lawyer.
“I beg your pardon,” said the doctor, blowing his nose upon a great yellow silk handkerchief. “It was your dust.”
“I don’t mean that. I mean for not letting the brute die when you had him in your hands. It would have been a blessing for everybody.”
“Saul Harrington included, eh? I wonder what he would have given me to have let him die.”
“Five thousand at least!”
“Don’t talk nonsense, man. Let’s see if we cannot do something.”
“We can do nothing, sir. The wedding-day is fixed, and the poor little girl is going to swear she will love, honour, and obey a scoundrel, who will break her pretty little heart while she sees him squander away that magnificent estate.”
“It’s very, very terrible,” said Doctor Lawrence thoughtfully; “and I came here this morning in the hope that as co-executors we might do something to save the girl, even if we cannot save the estate.”
“There’ll be nothing to save in half-a-dozen years, if he goes on as he’s going now. In the past three months there are ten thousand pounds gone spang!”
“Spent?”
“Heaven knows! Gambled away, I suppose. I have to keep on selling stock, regardless of losses, and I do the best I can for him. If the applications were made to some shady firm, they’d plunder him wholesale.”
“It’s very sad,” said the doctor, meekly.
“Sad, sir! It’s criminal. I don’t know what he does with it all, but, between ourselves, Lawrence, I’ve a shrewd suspicion that he is remitting a good deal to the States.”
“What for?”
“How should I know, sir? To pay old debts, perhaps. Ah, it’s a sorry business.”
“But surely we can do something.”
“Bah!”
“Now, don’t be angry, Hampton. If it was a leg or a wing diseased, I should know what to do, but in these legal matters I am a perfect child.”
“You are, Lawrence, you are.”
“Well,” said the doctor tartly, “knowing that, I came to you, as a legal light, to give me your opinion. Do you mean to tell me that we, as old Harrington’s executors, cannot interfere to stop this man from wasting his substance and wrecking the life of that poor girl?”
“Yes, sir, I do, plump and plain. Our duties were limited to seeing that, after all bequests were paid, this gentlemanly young fellow from the Far West had all the money his old lunatic of a grandfather left him.”
“But—”
“There, butt away till you break your skull, if you like, against the stone wall of the law. I, as a lawyer, can do nothing, but perhaps you can—as a doctor.”
“In heaven’s name, then, tell me what, for I feel heartbroken to see the way things are going.”
“Kill him.”
“What?”
“I mean as you nearly did before, and blamed the chemist.”
“My dear Hampton, surely you acquit me of that business.”
“Oh, yes, if you like, but if I were you I’d get him into such an awful state of health that he should not want to spend money, and, as to wedding, that’s the last thing he should think of.”
“Absurd! absurd!” cried Doctor Lawrence angrily. “You non-professional men get the maddest notions into your heads.”
“Very well, then, try that.”
“Try what?”
“That which you were hinting about—madness.”
“What?”
“Can’t you contrive to make it appear that the man is non compos mentis. Then we lawyers could come in and get some one appointed to administer the estate—I mean a judge would do that.”
“My dear Hampton, I came to you for good advice, and you talk trash to me.”
“I’ve told you—trash or not—the only way of getting out of the difficulty, and I can do no more,” said the lawyer pettishly. “There, Lawrence, old fellow, we will not quarrel over this unfortunate affair. We can do nothing but look on and advise. George Harrington will tell us to go to Jericho if we say a word; and as to the lady, when a good, pure-minded young girl takes it into her head that it is her duty to do something or another, the more you preach at her, and try to get her to think as you do, the more she looks upon you as a worldly-minded old sinner, and persists in going her own gait. I can only see one thing to do.”
“Yes? What is it?” cried the doctor.
“Ram a lot of legal jargon into the scoundrel, and frighten him into making ample settlements on the poor girl, tying it down so that he can’t touch it, nor she neither, except as payments fall due. Then she’ll be safe when he dies of delirium tremens, or gets killed in some drunken brawl.”
“You think you can manage that, Hampton?” cried the doctor eagerly.
“Yes, I fancy I can contrive that, but if he proves to be obstinate, you must help me.”
“In any way I can.”
“That’s right. Well, then, you’ll have to bring him nearly to death’s door.”
“What?”
“Not near enough to make your conscience uneasy, but just enough to make him soft and workable. Sick men are the ones to make their wills, I can tell you. A hale, hearty man is as obstinate as a bull.”
“Look here, Hampton, if you expect me to degrade my noble profession by aiding and abetting in any dishonourable act, you are confoundedly mistaken, sir, and I wish you a very good morning.”
The doctor seized his hat and stick, put on the former with a bang which threatened injury to the skin of his forehead, and was going out of the room when he received a slap on the back, and faced round fiercely, to find the lawyer smiling as he held out his hand.
“What a confounded old pepper-box you are, Lawrence! Hang it, man! who wants to do anything dishonourable? Do you think I do? Now, after knowing me all these years, do you think it likely?”
“No,” cried the doctor, slapping his hand loudly into that of his friend; “but you shouldn’t look so serious when you are cracking a joke.”
“That’s the perfection of joking, my dear boy. Seriously, though, I shall try and force him into making heavy settlements upon that poor girl.”
“By all means do; and I’d give something if we could break off the match.”
“What do you say to forging a new will, forbidding the banns—eh?”
The doctor looked into the dry and mirthful countenance before him, shook his head, and went to the door.
“See you at dinner at The Mynns on Wednesday, I suppose?”
“Oh, yes,” said the lawyer, “for certain. We live there now, and if it was not for poor little Gertrude, I should be very glad when emancipation day came.”