Chapter Thirty.
Why Saul Came Back.
Saul Harrington went down one day from his chambers, and walked up to The Mynns from the station with his arm in a sling.
“You, Mr Saul!” said Denton.
“Yes, old lady. Who did you think it was? Anybody at home?”
“Yes, sir, Miss Gertrude is upstairs. But what’s the matter with your arm?”
“Mere nothing; slipped on the ice inflamed. The Hamptons still here?”
“Oh, yes, sir.”
“Shall I fasten the gate? There you are. One moment, though: Master Bruno was never very fond of me. Dog had his teeth in me twice. Is he chained up?”
“Poor Bruno,” sighed Denton. “I dare say it was only in play.”
“Poor Bruno! What do you mean? Not dead, is he.”
“Oh, dear no, sir. Getting quite strong again.”
“Indeed,” said Saul drily.
“Yes, sir; somebody tried to kill him, but Miss Gertrude has nursed him back to life.”
“Poor dog! Somebody tried to kill him. What for? Biting?”
“I don’t know, sir. He crawled in one morning half dead; and, for a long time, I thought he wouldn’t get over it. But he’s nearly well now.”
“And chained up?”
“No, sir; but shut up in the stable. We can’t have him in the house, he howls so.”
Saul Harrington made no answer, for they were at the top of the steps; and directly after he was shown into the drawing-room, where every eye was fixed upon his arm.
“Ah, Gertrude! my dear,” he cried, shaking hands. “Mrs Hampton, too. Glad to see you.”
“It’s a big story,” said the old lady below her breath, as she shook hands in the most cold and limp manner ever perpetrated by woman. “Is your arm bad?” she said aloud.
“Slipped on a glacier. Nothing very much. Got your letter, Mr Hampton, and came on at once. Nothing wrong, is there?”
The old lawyer coughed.
“Rather a mysterious document. ‘Come on at once; important business.’ Why, hang it all, sir, you haven’t found a later will, have you?”
“No, sir,” said the lawyer coldly, “it is not that.”
“Well, I am on the tip-toe of expectation. What is it? But where’s George?”
There was no reply, and Saul looked from one to the other wonderingly.
“Not been up to his games, has he? Another touch of DT?”
“No, sir; there has been nothing of that kind, unless it was unknown to us, and it prompted him to behave as he did.”
“Great Heavens, man, what is it? He has not injured anyone in a mad fit, has he?”
“Neither am I aware of that,” said the lawyer gravely. “The fact is, Mr Harrington, your cousin has disappeared.”
“My cousin has what?” cried Saul, laughing aloud.
“There is no cause for mirth, sir. I sent for you because the day after you were here your cousin George went away.”
“What, for a day or two?”
“And he has not been seen since.”
“Good heavens! But, by Jove, that’s too bad. Had he any money?”
“Yes, sir; I believe he had quite a large sum.”
“Then that’s why he would not go with me. He had some plan in his head. Oh, it’s nothing. He’ll soon be back. Just a farewell bachelor trip, Gertie. Don’t take any notice of it.”
“We thought he had joined you,” said Mrs Hampton sharply.
“Oh, dear no; I haven’t so much as heard from him. But he’ll be back soon.”
“It is a long time now since he disappeared.”
“Went out,” said Saul, with a peculiar laugh.
“Have it that way if you like, Mr Harrington,” said the lawyer coldly—“went out; and has not returned.”
“Well, he is not a child, sir. George Harrington is a young man, full of life and energy; he has just come in for a large fortune, and we all know he likes to enjoy life. Besides, his ways have not been as ours. Those from the Far West do not study the conventionalities. He’ll soon settle down. Well?”
“Well, sir.”
“Is that all?”
“No, Mr Saul, that is not all. There are several little matters into which I will not enter.”
“But surely you have not fetched me back from Switzerland, sir, because my cousin has gone off somewhere on the spree?”
“There are very grave considerations in connection with this matter, Mr Saul,” said the old lawyer; “and I deemed it my duty, seeing how near a relative you are, to send for you back.”
“But surely you will explain; give some stronger reason for dragging me here?”
“Well, sir, I will; and, as everything is known to Miss Bellwood, here, and my wife, I will speak out at once.”
“Then for heaven’s sake do, sir; and pray don’t dole out your words as if they were those of a letter, at a shilling a line.”
The old lawyer took no notice of the last words, but said quietly:
“There has been a suggestion, sir, that the missing man had collected together a large sum, and has gone off with no intention of returning.”
“For the present,” said Saul, with a quick glance at Gertrude.
“At all, sir.”
“Oh, rubbish. Who has dared to insinuate that? Bah! preposterous. Collect a few hundreds, and leave behind this fine estate. My dear Mr Hampton, are you serious?”
“Ideas, these, sir, which sound strange; but to which colour is given by the assertion now made that the person in question is not the true George Harrington, but an impostor.”
Saul Harrington leaped from his seat with a horrified and startled look in his eyes, and then sank back, grasping the arms and staring wildly at the old man, his jaw dropping, but no words coming from his lips.
“Yes, I surprise you, of course,” continued the old lawyer, in his calm, unruffled, legal manner.
Saul Harrington uttered a gasp, as he seemed to make a tremendous effort to master his emotion.
“Yes, yes, of course,” he cried, “you surprise me terribly. Then—then—if he is an impostor the property would naturally fall to me.”
“No,” said the lawyer, as Saul sat back in his chair, with his teeth set and a peculiarly rigid aspect in his face, “the property only comes to you in the event of George Harrington’s death without issue.”
“Yes,” said Saul, in a hoarse whisper.
“And we do not know that George Harrington dead.”
“No, no; of course not,” said Saul hastily. “I begin to see now why you summoned me back. But—impostor—my cousin—the man I left here, accepted by you all?”
“Yourself included, Mr Saul,” said the lawyer gravely.
“Yes, of course—of course—his proofs of identity—of course.”
“They were very strong, Mr Saul, and upon the strength of them he has obtained from the estate ten thousand pounds in hard cash, and he has disappeared.”
“But it is impossible! An impostor?” said Saul hoarsely. “No, no, no; you do not think so.”
“My position forbids me to offer an opinion. At least, I consider it does, sir.”
“But what proofs have you?” cried Saul, who seemed to be recovering himself. “You are keeping something back. Who says that George Harrington is an impostor?”
“I say the man who called himself George Harrington is a rank impostor, sir,” said a firm voice at the doorway; and all turned to see the speaker standing there, a little in advance of Doctor Lawrence.
“You!” cried Saul, springing up, and looking so ghastly pale and drawn of countenance, that he seemed to have aged ten years.
“Yes, I do, sir.”
“And—may I ask—who—you are?” said Saul, speaking with terrible effort.
“Yes! I am George Harrington, come here to claim my rights.”