Chapter Thirty Four.
Mr Blank’s Theory.
Mr Hampton was seated in his dingy office in Lincoln’s Inn one morning, when the clerk announced Doctor Lawrence and another gentleman, who were shown in, the old lawyer frowning as he found who the other gentleman was.
“You, sir?” he said rather shortly.
“Yes, my dear executor,” said the young man laughing. “I am sorry to be such a nuisance to you, but I am growing impatient.”
“Very well, sir; very well; and so am I; and as you have called this morning, let me tell you that you have rewarded my friendly disposition towards you by taking a mean advantage and going down to The Mynns, again and again, like a spy upon the camp.”
“Gently, my dear sir, gently. I confess to going down to The Mynns partly by design, but it was by accident I met Miss Bellwood.”
“Accident?” exclaimed the old lawyer.
“Yes, sir, accident; and even if it had not been, please have a little mercy. Put yourself in my place. I came over here eager to succeed to my estate, and to see the lady I was to marry. I saw her and I need not say was charmed with my grandfather’s choice. There, I say it openly, I love her as the sweetest, most innocent girl I ever met; but instead of all going well, I am greeted as an impostor, and told that the young lady betrothed to me is engaged to another gentleman, my alter ego.”
“Yes, yes, yes; we know all that, sir, ad nauseum,” cried the old lawyer.
“Humph! quotation for quotation,” muttered Doctor Lawrence.
“You must wait, sir. You must wait.”
“My dear Hampton,” said the doctor, “don’t you think that we might sympathise a little more with our young friend?”
“I do not acknowledge that this gentleman is our friend,” said the lawyer sternly.
“No, sir; and it does not seem to me that you are in any hurry to acknowledge me,” said the young man laughing.
“Indeed, sir,” said the lawyer tartly. “I can only repeat my words—you must wait.”
“Can’t wait any longer, sir. You could not if you were in my case.”
“I only ask you to wait till Mr George—”
“Till this man comes back,” interposed the other. “He will not come back.”
“What authority have you for saying that?”
“Never mind, sir. I have been having a chat with Doctor Lawrence this morning, and he agrees with me.”
“I am not going to allow myself to be influenced by what you and Doctor Lawrence have agreed to,” said the lawyer sharply.
“Don’t be angry with me, old chap.”
“But you make me angry, sir. Once more, you must wait.”
“I cannot afford to.”
“Then I shall consult with Doctor Lawrence and take steps which will be very unpleasant for all parties, especially for you, sir, if your story is not genuine.”
“You mean call in police aid?”
“I do, sir.”
“Detectives,” said the young man thoughtfully. “Well, they would, or should, run this man down, and put an end to the uncertainty. But it would be terribly unpleasant for Gertrude.”
“You mean Miss Bellwood, sir.”
“No, I do not. I mean for Gertrude Bellwood, my affianced wife. No; I don’t like the detective proposition, with its publicity.”
“Indeed!” said the lawyer, looking at him searchingly.
“Not on my own account, old gentleman. I am not at all afraid of being imprisoned as a rogue and a vagabond for making impudent pretensions; but you know how unpleasant police interference would be, and the matter getting into the papers.”
“Quite right,” said the doctor.
“I know all that, sir,” replied the lawyer; “and therefore I advocated waiting.”
“And I tell you I must act. Look here, sir, I’m in a very awkward predicament. I have had back this morning a refusal from San Francisco to honour a draft. The way in which this man has forestalled me makes me seem to my agents an impostor.”
“Hum!”
“A hum?” said the young man laughing. “Well, call it so if you like.”
“I never make jokes, sir. That was an ejaculation.”
“Good. Then here is what I propose. I will be my own detective, and see if I cannot run this man down. I want to stand face to face with him.”
“That is quite right,” said the doctor, who was fidgeting about like one who feels himself out of the conversation.
“And to do this I want a sufficient sum of money placed in my hands for current expenses.”
“I could not for a moment tolerate such a proposal, sir,” said the lawyer shortly.
“I will place the necessary funds in your hands,” said the doctor.
“Thank you. And if I turn out to be a swindler?”
“Well,” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders, “I shall lose.”
“No, you shall not, sir,” cried the young man warmly, as he held out his hand. “You know that I am no cheat, Doctor Lawrence.”
“Well, if you are,” said the cheery old doctor, wringing the proffered hand, “you are the cleverest one I ever met. Now, tell Mr Hampton what you mean to do.”
“One moment,” said the lawyer quickly. “Look here. I have been speaking so far as James Harrington’s executor. Not one penny will I consent to advance out of the estate; but if you will allow me, Mr Blank—”
“Mr George Harrington, sir.”
“Mr Blank,” persisted the lawyer.
“George Harrington, sir.”
“When you have proved yourself to be he. You are to me now Mr Blank; and I say that I shall not allow my old friend Lawrence to bear this expense alone. As a lawyer and executor I will not stir a step, but as a friend, who has some slight belief in your story, I shall share with him.”
The young man laughed.
“You’re a rum old fellow, Mr Hampton, and some of these days we three will have some hearty laughs across the walnuts and the wine over all this worry.”
“Yes, that we will,” said Doctor Lawrence. “Over a glass of port.”
“You see, gentlemen, I must get to work; for I find that, besides the pseudo George Harrington, I have another enemy to fight.”
“Another?”
“Yes, gentlemen. Mr Saul Harrington—the next heir.”
“I do not quite understand you,” said the lawyer.
“I am sorry to say I do,” said the doctor. “Saul Harrington is next heir, and there can be no doubt about his being strongly attached to our young friend Gertrude.”
“Even if this be so,” said the lawyer, “it does not strengthen your case, Mr Blank.”
“Well, for the present, agreed then,” said the young man smiling. “Mr Blank be it so. But it does strengthen my case. Now, gentlemen, I am going to be my own detective and I am fighting for a large stake.”
“Yes, it is a big estate,” said the lawyer drily.
“Hang the estate, sir. I was happy enough as a man without it, and I could be again. But I am fighting for my honour; and there is a greater stake still,” he added with his eyes flashing, as he recalled his last interview with Gertrude.
“Well, sir, what do you propose doing?”
“I am in the enemy’s camp, sir. Why should I reveal my plans?”
“No, you are not in the enemy’s camp, sir,” said the old lawyer sharply. “You are with those friends who are going to find you in the sinews of war to carry on your campaign.”
“True. Well, then, I’ll speak out: I am going to run down this man who called himself George Harrington. We must meet.”
“Good.”
“He has disappeared for one of two reasons.”
“Yes, sir; go on.”
“He is an impostor.”
“Not proven,” said the doctor.
“Not yet. But his actions show it. He has disappeared with all the money he could get together, because, by some means, he heard that I was alive.”
“Yes, that seems probable,” said the doctor, as Mr Hampton turned the table into a piano and played upon it dumb tunes.
“Probable, but only my first idea, and I don’t think it is the true solution.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe he could have had a suspicion that I was alive.”
“Then why did he go away?” said the lawyer sharply.
“That we must find out through Saul Harrington.”
“Mr Saul Harrington is seriously ill,” said Doctor Lawrence. “I saw him this morning at his request.”
“What’s the matter?”
“The injury to his arm. It seems he had a nasty fall upon one of the ice slopes in Switzerland, and the doctors there treated it wrongly. It’s a nasty case, and is giving me a deal of anxiety.”
“He’ll get well soon enough,” said the lawyer roughly. “Go on, Mr Blank. Let’s have the rest of your theory.”
“My theory is, sir, that during one or other of the drinking bouts they had together the pseudo George Harrington let his tongue run rather fast, and Saul Harrington was too clever for him; he nailed him at once.”
“He would have denounced him.”
“He either would had I not come forward, or he has some reason for keeping it back.”
“Not plausible, Mr Blank,” said the lawyer shortly. “You are spoiling your own case.”
“Perhaps so, sir, but I shall work it out my own way. What I feel sure of is this: my impersonator has gone never to return. Saul knew of his departure—of that I feel sure; and he was satisfied that he was all right as successor to the estate, when, to his dismay, he found me in the field.”
“Humph?” ejaculated Doctor Lawrence, patting the young man on the arm. “I don’t think we shall want a detective.”
“Don’t flatter him, Lawrence,” said the lawyer tartly. “It’s all moonshine. I don’t like Saul Harrington; never did. But he would not have acted as our young frien— as young Mr Blank suggests.”
“Perhaps not, sir. But I can say no more. My ideas are in a state of chaos at present. Still I am sure the case is somewhere in his tangle, and I mean to find it out.”
“When do you begin?” said the doctor.
“I have begun, sir; and I am going on now.”
“Down to The Mynns?”
“Perhaps. But I shall not try to see Miss Bellwood. I devote myself from this hour to the discovery of the mystery which means so much to me.”
“Then you want money. How much do you require?” said the lawyer, the corners of whose mouth dropped as he spoke—“a hundred?”
“A hundred! No. I only want ten or fifteen pounds for the present. If that is not enough, I can ask for more. Give me ten.”
The old man’s mouth assumed its natural curve as he unlocked his table-drawer, exchanging glances with the doctor before taking out a little canvas bag, part of whose contents he counted into his hand.
“This is not the lawyer acting,” he said drily; “but the—no I won’t say friend—the seeker for justice. I would not do such a thing as this from the legal point of view, for the world. There, sir, twenty-five pounds in sovereigns. If you want more when that is gone come, or write.”
“Thanks,” said the young man, rising and taking the money, which he carefully counted as far as ten, returned the fifteen pounds, and took up his hat. “I’ll send if I want more. Good-day, gentlemen; I shall wire or write.”
The door closed; they saw him pass the window, and then the eyes of the two old men met.
“That’s the man, Lawrence,” said the lawyer, replacing the fifteen pounds.
“I haven’t a doubt about it,” was the reply.
“But he has only found a mare’s nest yet.”
“Humph! I don’t quite know,” said the doctor. “Well, I’ll be off.”
“Going?”
“Yes, to see Saul Harrington again. I don’t like his condition.”
“I never liked anything about him, Lawrence. But this is the man.”